Shampoo-Rinse-Repeat

When this is over, may we never again take for granted
A handshake with a stranger / Full shelves at the store
Conversations with neighbors / A crowded theater
Friday night out / The taste of communion
A routine checkup / The school rush each morning
Coffee with a friend / The stadium roaring
Each deep breath / A boring Tuesday / Life itself.
When this ends/ may we find
that we have become / more like the people
we wanted to be / we were called to be
we hoped to be / and may we stay
that way — better / for each other
because of the worst.
        —“When This Is Over” by Laura Kelly Fanucci

Lately, I have heard a lot of people reflect on the blessings of the past year and a half. And certainly, while there have been blessings and learnings that we will inevitably need to find ways to carry forward, these types of hyper-optimistic and cheerful reflections seem largely out-of-touch to me. This year has pushed me to my limits. It has felt sticky. It has been painful. It has created and revealed much vulnerability and gaps in our social infrastructure. More than relishing the blessings, I have wanted to wash the residue of this year down the drain.  
 

And as we start to reemerge into communities once again, I have found a new mantra: shampoo-rinse-repeat. I have been focusing on rinsing off the stickiness, the painfulness, the anger, the fear, the loneliness, the trauma, the grief, the loss, the longing. Shampoo-rinse-repeat. There has been so much that has hurt us. Shampoo-rinse-repeat. And once all of it is mostly rinsed off (and it may take a while), I may be ready to consider the learnings—and maybe even the blessings. But the spiritual life, teaches us to do things one step at a time. And the first step for me is to shampoo-rinse-repeat. This is how I will find the ground beneath me and find authentic ways to grow forward into more loving and hopeful community. I look forward to doing this work in partnership with you.

See you in (zoom) church,  
Christy

More Blooming

Consider the liles of the field,
the blue banks of camas opening
into acres of sky along the road.
Would the longing to lie down
and be washed by that beauty
abate if you knew their usefulness,
how the natives ground their bulbs
for flour, how the settlers’ hogs
uprooted them, grunting in gleeful
oblivion as the flowers fell?
And you—what of your rushed
and useful life? Imagine setting it all down—
papers, plans, appointments, everything—
leaving only a note: “Gone
to the fields to be lovely. Be back
when I’m through with blooming.”
Even now, unneeded and uneaten,
the camas lilies gaze out above the grass / from their tender blue eyes.
Even in sleep your life will shine.
Make no mistake. Of course / your work will always matter.
Yet Solomon in all his glory / was not arrayed like one of these.
        —“Camas Lillies” by Lynn Ungar
 

When I first read this poem by Lynn Ungar, it took my breath away. What would it truly mean to set it all down—all of it—and go to the fields to be lovely? What would it mean to believe that even while I’m sleeping, my life shines? If you are anything like me, you know the pressures of being productive, checking things off a to-do list, trying to remember and accomplish the things on your calendar. Sometimes it feels like a whirlwind, and at the end of the day, I am completely spent and exhausted even with many things unfinished. And this year of COVID lockdown has only made it harder. Where has my calling to be lovely gone? Where did I forget it along the way? Surely, there is more blooming for me to do. Surely, there is more blooming for each one of us to do. Surely, there is more blooming for us to do together as God’s church. So, I pray that we—that you and I and all of us together—don’t get lost in the busyness of it all. The decisions.The protocols.The procedures.The schedules. The daily operations. I pray that we become more than useful—that we become more than productive—that we become more than industrious and accomplished. The work, of course, will always matter. But so will the beauty. So will the loveliness. So will the blooming. So now, while there is still so much to do, set it down. Even for a few moments. And let yourself breathe and be lovely.  

See you in (zoom) church,  
Christy