Devotion for Being Apart -
June 17
We will share a devotion Sundays, Mondays, and Wednesdays through Fridays.
- Kara
- Kara
I saw a fleeting headline today that Americans' happiness measure is the lowest it's been in over 50 years. I am not surprised. I feel it in myself. I had a burst of rally at the beginning of the pandemic - kicked it into productivity mode and met the challenge head on. Then it went on, and on, and on, and still there is no conceivable end in sight.
Then the collective trauma swept in from another angle, as our city cried out about the death of George Floyd, and the issues of systemic racism and police brutality that we've circled around for decades were thrown into the open and are now being talked about with more honesty and clarity possibly than ever before. It's feeling like an open wound we're really eager (and perhaps a bit impatient) to heal. But this too has gone on a long time, centuries, and the pain of it will continue, even as the healing happens. Healing is a painful and slow process, and this thing is deeper and more pervasive than we've often let ourselves acknowledge. There's going to need to to be prodding and poking, and exposing infection and cutting out death, and cleansing and tending to this, for a very long time. Truthfully, there is no end in sight.
And the future continues to be on hold. Things continue to get canceled. The economy continues to teeter. Stability continues to feel like a shaky prospect. And making even little plans is getting more complicated instead of less - because it feels like we're in it on our own to figure out how to navigate things without cohesive guidance or mutual agreement about what that should look like. And the virus rages on - it's not done, even though we are so done with it.
So unknown remains the biggest factor of life right now. We just keep living, day after day, in the unknown. With no end in sight. Kind of hard to feel "happy." Thank God for the moments we do, but much of the time we're too busy feeling all sorts of other muddled things. And rightfully so.
It's ok to not be happy.
That's not a very modern American thing to say. We think being happy is the highest goal in life. But it's not.
Other goals might be: to be real. To be connected. To be awake to this life. To share in it. To contribute. To take it in with gratitude. To leave it having helped somewhat. To know God and each other and ourselves. To uphold each other as human beings.
I feel generally kind of rotten. It feels important to say that. There's no shame in being tired, worn out, discouraged, or depressed, depleted or weary or anxious. It's an anxious time. I am trying to recognize and have compassion for myself in the anxiety, (the "squeezing" - we said back in March that anxiety was a reasonable response. It still is.).
I'm reminding myself that I can trust that new life comes out of these times, and it's not because we put on a happy face and power through.
I am not pretending things are fine. I am not throwing myself into the fray, ignoring my sadness or fatigue. And bonus: I am exposing the idol of happiness in my life. That allows me to refocus my aim on being present and true.
How are you today? What are you feeling and needing today?
I hate coming back to this again and again, but I think again my need is for mourning. At least, it eases my tension and anxiety when I realize that's a need I can meet. And I am meeting it anyway - whether it's by being short and irritable with my family and pretending it's their fault, or letting myself sit down and have a good cry. I can choose how I want to meet the need to mourn. And I can let others in my home meet the need for mourning too, without trying to make them be "happy," when happiness doesn't make a ton of sense right now.
One gift of trying hard to stay honest in this time and not hide it, is that we get to receive care. I'm not super good at this - I would way rather give care than receive it. But to be human is to do both. We are all ministers, after all, made in the image of the Divine Minister. We are created to give and receive care with each other. I do believe that's the whole purpose of this life - we're here to care for one another and receive each other's care. It's how we experience what's real: that we belong to God and we belong to each other - with no end in sight.
Today my friend Lilly Lewin sent me a text:
"Sending you a bit of beauty in the midst of all the messiness of life!"
She attached this photo, and the following prayer and scripture.
It was just what my soul needed; she brought me back to my belonging to God and others by showing me care.
Perhaps it is what your soul needs today too?
(It's ok if it's not. If it's not - what does your soul need today? How can you be honest with yourself about that need, and maybe even share that need with another?)
O Holy Spirit, give me stillness of soul in you.
Calm the turmoil within, with the gentleness of your peace.
Quiet the anxiety within, with a deep trust in you.
Heal the wounds of sin within, with the joy of your forgiveness.
Strengthen the faith within, with the awareness of your presence.
Confirm the hope within, with the knowledge of your strength.
Give fullness to the love within, with an outpouring of your love.
O Holy Spirit, be to me a source of light, strength and courage
so that I may hear your call ever more clearly
and follow you more generously.
- William Browning, CP, "An Anxious Person's Prayer"
Come to me all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls."
- Matthew 11:28-29
Then the collective trauma swept in from another angle, as our city cried out about the death of George Floyd, and the issues of systemic racism and police brutality that we've circled around for decades were thrown into the open and are now being talked about with more honesty and clarity possibly than ever before. It's feeling like an open wound we're really eager (and perhaps a bit impatient) to heal. But this too has gone on a long time, centuries, and the pain of it will continue, even as the healing happens. Healing is a painful and slow process, and this thing is deeper and more pervasive than we've often let ourselves acknowledge. There's going to need to to be prodding and poking, and exposing infection and cutting out death, and cleansing and tending to this, for a very long time. Truthfully, there is no end in sight.
And the future continues to be on hold. Things continue to get canceled. The economy continues to teeter. Stability continues to feel like a shaky prospect. And making even little plans is getting more complicated instead of less - because it feels like we're in it on our own to figure out how to navigate things without cohesive guidance or mutual agreement about what that should look like. And the virus rages on - it's not done, even though we are so done with it.
So unknown remains the biggest factor of life right now. We just keep living, day after day, in the unknown. With no end in sight. Kind of hard to feel "happy." Thank God for the moments we do, but much of the time we're too busy feeling all sorts of other muddled things. And rightfully so.
It's ok to not be happy.
That's not a very modern American thing to say. We think being happy is the highest goal in life. But it's not.
Other goals might be: to be real. To be connected. To be awake to this life. To share in it. To contribute. To take it in with gratitude. To leave it having helped somewhat. To know God and each other and ourselves. To uphold each other as human beings.
I feel generally kind of rotten. It feels important to say that. There's no shame in being tired, worn out, discouraged, or depressed, depleted or weary or anxious. It's an anxious time. I am trying to recognize and have compassion for myself in the anxiety, (the "squeezing" - we said back in March that anxiety was a reasonable response. It still is.).
I'm reminding myself that I can trust that new life comes out of these times, and it's not because we put on a happy face and power through.
I am not pretending things are fine. I am not throwing myself into the fray, ignoring my sadness or fatigue. And bonus: I am exposing the idol of happiness in my life. That allows me to refocus my aim on being present and true.
How are you today? What are you feeling and needing today?
I hate coming back to this again and again, but I think again my need is for mourning. At least, it eases my tension and anxiety when I realize that's a need I can meet. And I am meeting it anyway - whether it's by being short and irritable with my family and pretending it's their fault, or letting myself sit down and have a good cry. I can choose how I want to meet the need to mourn. And I can let others in my home meet the need for mourning too, without trying to make them be "happy," when happiness doesn't make a ton of sense right now.
One gift of trying hard to stay honest in this time and not hide it, is that we get to receive care. I'm not super good at this - I would way rather give care than receive it. But to be human is to do both. We are all ministers, after all, made in the image of the Divine Minister. We are created to give and receive care with each other. I do believe that's the whole purpose of this life - we're here to care for one another and receive each other's care. It's how we experience what's real: that we belong to God and we belong to each other - with no end in sight.
Today my friend Lilly Lewin sent me a text:
"Sending you a bit of beauty in the midst of all the messiness of life!"
She attached this photo, and the following prayer and scripture.
It was just what my soul needed; she brought me back to my belonging to God and others by showing me care.
Perhaps it is what your soul needs today too?
(It's ok if it's not. If it's not - what does your soul need today? How can you be honest with yourself about that need, and maybe even share that need with another?)
O Holy Spirit, give me stillness of soul in you.
Calm the turmoil within, with the gentleness of your peace.
Quiet the anxiety within, with a deep trust in you.
Heal the wounds of sin within, with the joy of your forgiveness.
Strengthen the faith within, with the awareness of your presence.
Confirm the hope within, with the knowledge of your strength.
Give fullness to the love within, with an outpouring of your love.
O Holy Spirit, be to me a source of light, strength and courage
so that I may hear your call ever more clearly
and follow you more generously.
- William Browning, CP, "An Anxious Person's Prayer"
Come to me all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls."
- Matthew 11:28-29
CONNECTING RITUAL:
Perhaps tonight before bed, whatever time that is in each of our homes, we can pray in this way, and so join our souls with each other and the people of the whole earth:
God, another day is ended, another day begins.
Still me in your rest.
Quiet me in your strength.
Sustain me through the unknown.
May I surrender now to sleep,
entrusting myself to you,
just as I am.
When I awaken to a new day,
give me courage to feel what I am feeling,
to be right where I am.
Give me opportunities to care for others,
chances to receive care from others,
and grace to care for myself.
Thank you for this day that is ending,
for the healing happening,
and the hope taking root,
for the disorientation of the unknown,
that drives me to seek you,
and for the ways our shared pain
connects us more deeply
to you and each other.
Thank you for your presence with me
still
always,
right now, and
in the day I will wake up to tomorrow,
God, another day is ended, another day begins.
Still me in your rest.
Quiet me in your strength.
Sustain me through the unknown.
May I surrender now to sleep,
entrusting myself to you,
just as I am.
When I awaken to a new day,
give me courage to feel what I am feeling,
to be right where I am.
Give me opportunities to care for others,
chances to receive care from others,
and grace to care for myself.
Thank you for this day that is ending,
for the healing happening,
and the hope taking root,
for the disorientation of the unknown,
that drives me to seek you,
and for the ways our shared pain
connects us more deeply
to you and each other.
Thank you for your presence with me
still
always,
right now, and
in the day I will wake up to tomorrow,
Your love holds me,
and holds this world,
with no end in sight.
Amen.
Amen.
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