Like Kathleen Kelly, “I like to start my notes to you as if we're already in the middle of a conversation.”
so…hi, hello.
My therapist recently suggested I try a very simple practice to experience two unique sensations — to practice with my body a different way of holding the tension of diverse experiences. And so I very unromantically filled one bowl with ice water and another with very hot water and reluctantly plunged one hand into each —at the same time— to see what would come of it.
I’m not sure that a direct parallel can be drawn between that experience and the tensions of life, but I found it interesting that after awhile, what began as two unique experiences (with my brain registering both intensities distinctly) began to blur into one. After a minute or so, my brain could only register that all my fingers were tingling and I could not have told you at that point which bowl was hot and which was cold.
If there is anything to be said for this experiment, it may be that without balance and rest from the ongoing tension of life, perhaps we run the risk of growing numb to how we experience those realities. In a union with Christ, we have, if not a buffer from the elements of the human experience, a surpassing strength from which to source our own endurance. A mentor of mine says that it is really only in tension that we have the choice for faith; which is to say that without the pull to disbelieve God’s supernatural sufficient strength, we would have no way to choose to believe God is sufficient in our weakness.
I don’t know that I am saying much here, but I’ve been chewing on this ever since my fingers stopped tingling in those bowls of water.
I do, in fact, hold many things at once — such as hope and despair in the same hands. Tension. I hold wild delight and utter discontent at the same time. Also tension.
Both/and. Best/worst. Hard/good.
I carry mustard seed conviction and outright doubt within myself.
My insides feel stretched with the breadth of all I am holding even as I know I am not meant to hold it all.
There's a line in Wendell Berry’s book Jayber Crow where the protagonist says,
"That I should give up my questioning [matters of faith] was good enough advice, which I would have been glad enough to take, except that my questioning would not give me up. It kept at me. Sometimes it seemed to me that people I walked by in the street must be able to hear the dingdonging in my head."
I felt seen.
Because I carry across the house a soft leather Bible that I haven’t opened in days and I scratch prayers into a notebook that I use inconsistently. And when I converse with the church ladies or the women in my living room, I am shocked that they don’t hear “the dingdonging in my head”, the clanging together of all my doubt and hope.
I am Jacob, wrestling and constantly limping;
and I am Hannah, wailing at the altar;
and I am David, hiding in a cave;
and I am Martha reminding Jesus he could've stopped all this if he came on time;
and I am Peter, holding eye contact with Jesus after the rooster crowed;
and I am Thomas demanding to see the wounds.
And also…
I am Miriam, singing into the promised land;
and I am Jeremiah, weeping at new morning mercies;
and I am Mary, be it unto me, according to Your word, oh Lord;
and I am that other Mary, sitting at Jesus’ feet, a student of the rabbi;
and I am the beloved disciple, racing Peter to the tomb;
and I am Paul, knowing in my bones that to live is Christ, to die is gain.
I don’t think I will ever stop marveling at the both/and of this life; I will never stop marveling at the ways I can show up in prayer and presence with my fury and my faith, my longing and my hope, and know that I am not barely tolerated by a God itching to dish out wrath, I am thoroughly welcomed and embraced by the God whose name is Love.
Wait — two things —
My son is notorious for saying, “Hey, mom! One thing! No, wait — two things!” and it is not usually literally two things, it’s as many as are in his head at that time. I am borrowing this from him for my post script.
It’s a little late to offer, but my favorite holiday gift shopping hack, which I started in September: when I find tiny joyful things I want to give my people, I work my weekly grocery budget so that I can “sneak in” an item or two. It keeps me alert to prizes I may find and keeps me intentional with the monies I manage for our home to avoid overspending the closer Christmas comes. No one will notice if we don’t have granola bars that week! ;)
Speaking of those holidays, here are a few of my favorite small businesses to patronize around gift giving times: Naomi Paper Company, Patsy Shaw Art, and Phylicia Masonheimer’s Verity Home.
And, most randomly: the nasal spray that might actually be changing my life. If you suffer from allergies, get thee to Beekeeper’s Naturals.
I’m glad you read this (presuming you did). Questions, comments, smart remarks wildly affirmative words of hope and peace welcome.
warmly,
