Receive what I have for you: Part 4

Of course, I forget all the time. I even posted a reminder on my computer monitor at home, a small version of "Receive what I have for you" to rein me in when I forget. But I forget to look at the reminder, of course. In the past two weeks, I became a crazy person. Instead of "receiving" life's blessings actively and gratefully, I became suspicious. I don't think God has ever said to me, "Manage what I have for you." But that's what I tried to do. It makes sense, in a crisis. But not when life is full of wonder and surprises. I almost threw away a source of complete delight because it was unfamiliar and unpredictable. I forgot to breathe deeply and be grateful. And after throwing it away and instantly regretting it, I sought stillness again. And in the stillness, I remembered this sunset, from the same trip to Hawaii as Part 2. And this sunset captured everything I had been feeling. Standing in front of this sky, I was overwhelmed. My breathing grew shallow. I felt a sense of urgency-- I can still feel it as I look at the photograph. An energy surged through me and had no outlet; the contrasts of sea and sky, light and dark, riotous color against a deepening gray sky, stillness of the ocean and shifting scenes above it. I felt that urgency these past two weeks, and was equally ill-prepared to explain it, control it, or release it. Recalling this sunset helped. I remembered returning to my breath, inhaling the beauty of the moment, letting it envelope me. And I recalled: Receive what I have for you. Inhale deeply this moment. Savor it. And so I am. :-)

Receive what I have for you: Part 3

I can only tolerate so much stillness. I'm working on that. My aunt has been trying to nurture the stillness in me for years. She used to sign all of her emails and cards to me with, "Go gently." I'm getting there. I practice.

In December 2009, I went on a semi-silent retreat at a Trappist monastery in northern California. The quarter had been a good but frenzied one until the week before my retreat. Class ended on a sour note. I learned that my mom had bladder cancer. I had a working "break" planned for myself. Discomfort was the running theme of the retreat center. The weather was foul, raining almost the entire time. My room was freezing cold. The food was unpredictable... we even missed dinner entirely one night when they put it away early. It took me a couple of days to quiet myself. To breathe. It wasn't until the second day that I learned you're not "supposed" to read on silent retreats. I realized I was pushing away the stillness with my books, filling my head instead of making room. By the middle of day 3, I was learning to appreciate the stillness. Emptiness isn't always about absence... it's about making room. That was the first lesson. The second lesson was that it was time to stop letting go. It was time to start receiving actively. To take hold of every experience, embrace it. Time to realize that whatever God has for me is already here in front of me. Whatever is. That's what I need to receive. And trust that it is right.

Receive what I have for you: Part 2

And then it was March, 2009. For a year and a half, I was letting go, until there was almost nothing left! I was depleted and needed to be filled up again, and I was ready to start dreaming again. It was past time for my first Hawaiian breezes, even if I had to experience them alone. I was so disappointed to learn that an important conference in Denver would consume most of spring "break." But those four days in Hawaii were glorious. Every night, I headed to the water's edge as the sun prepared its descent. And in this moment, when all was still and quiet and perfectly RIGHT, I did not have to remind myself to breathe. Peace came easily. The presence of God was unmistakable. Be still and KNOW. This was stage 2. After letting go, came several months of stillness. Stillness does NOT come naturally to me. Such a cure for my "doing" nature.

Receive what I have for you

This is the night I learned that God speaks to me through sunsets. It was August 2007. My parents were visiting, and I brought them to Tahoe for a few days. Life was far better than I expected, just months after starting all over. I wasn't sad or angry or hopeless. I had purpose, friends, loved ones, my home and my sweet animals. In fact, life was far easier than it had been in years. But I had spent several days with my parents and I needed some alone time. After sending them to the casinos, I walked alone to the beach. It was nearly deserted. Such strange folk, these tourists who choose casinos over sunsets.

I sat on the sand and waited. The emptiness in me, which I had hardly been aware of, expanded and almost swallowed me. But I focused on the quickly moving sun. I've never seen any sun so hurried to hide behind the horizon! And I breathed. And like a child, I said to God, "I want! I want! I want!" without even knowing what I wanted. I suppose I wanted that feeling of emptiness to recede. And I wanted to have it dissected, analyzed, processed, before the sun descended and left me in darkness. But there was no time! So I breathed more deeply. And I can't explain how I "heard" or received this message, but I distinctly knew that God was telling me, "Receive what I have for you." And I thought, "What? Receive WHAT?" And I worried. What if these things that God has for me aren't the things that I want, I want, I want? But I continued to sit, with the sand growing cold against my legs in the darkness. And I continued to breathe deeply. And I knew. I was asking the wrong question. The question wasn't "What?" It was "How?" And as soon as I asked the right question, I knew the answer, too. In that moment, the first step to receiving what God had for me was to LET GO. Let go of the old dreams, the old plans, the old ways of being. It was easy to let go of the marriage... once it broke, there was nothing left to hold onto anyway. But for a year, I had to practice breathing deeply and letting go of the certainties that came with that old life. Make space for new dreams.