At The Water's Edge

I’ve come to believe that transformation / usually happens in solitude, when I attend
to my soul’s deep longings, allowing myself / enough room and compassion to grow in
profound ways.  It is a great help and / comfort to have others walk with me to the
water’s edge, but ultimately I have to wade / into the unknown myself, diving below the
waves and drinking from my own cupped / palms.  Processing and making meaning
usually happens when we share what we’ve / discovered, when we return to the water’s
edge with our hands filled with stones and / beach glass, describing the deep places of
shadows and light we searched to find such / treasure.

There is so much love and compassion in / the act of walking together.  There is so
much bright bravery in going far enough / alone to find the roots of our next rebirth.
There is so much humility, grace, and / redemption in sharing the story.
Bless us all when we go forth, and when we / return.  Bless those who are willing to travel
with us, and willing to wait at the water’s / edge saying “What did you find?” And “How
are things with your soul?”
—“Who Walks Us to the Water’s Edge” by Carrie Newcomer

Sabbatical allowed me time to attend to my soul’s deep longings. It was a time of discovery, releasing, wondering, and integration. It allowed my mind to sit on a rock in the middle of the river with no particular agenda. Sometimes I cried. Sometimes I laughed. Sometimes I walked with no precise destination. Sometimes I was very clear about where I wanted to go and what I wanted to do.
    
I realized through this sacred time that most of us—certainly me—are holding great amounts of trauma that have built up over time and affect the ways we move in the world. This trauma affects what we discover at the water’s edge and how things are with our soul. It affects our connecting and our responding to others. It affects our speech and our actions and our faith. It can cause tremendous pain. And it can break us open to unthought of possibilities. Walking the labyrinth helped me sort some of this out—untangle it, pull it apart, look at it closely, and wonder about what parts are helpful and what parts are not. How do we deal with all this trauma? How do we process it, release it, transform it? I certainly don’t come back with all the answers—probably even more questions. But I do come back with more tools, deeper grounding, clearer vision. I come back with an intention not to overlook the trauma that so many are walking around and carrying on their backs. I want to help release the burden. This feels like essential ministry to me. And it seems like the best place to start is through intentional presence and focused listening to one another. We all need a place where we feel seen, heard, and where we know that our very being matters. Will you join me in this sacred work?    

See you in church, 

Christy