When I woke up on Thursday morning, the first thing I heard was that Broward County was under a tropical storm warning. I had been very flip earlier in the week, glib about the fact that I was just as glad that high winds and squalls would keep us from doing much trick-or-treating with LoML. In fact, when it was time to go out to do the deed, LoML scared her own self enough, dressed up as a skeleton pirate, that we visited three houses, and gladly closed Halloween down for another year. Now it was the day after and I lay in bed hearing that forecast, fully aware that inertia has been powerful this year and there were all manner of possible projectiles strewed across our deck and yard. The last thing I wanted to do was yard work!
There was more though. I could hear that LoML had that very croupy cough of hers again, the one we heard a lot after she first came to us from Mexico. The one that goes with asthma. At the same time, my friend, Archangel, had had another seizure at work on Wednesday, and now his boss didn't want him back on the job--too high a safety risk. I'd promised I'd find a way to get him in to see a neurologist that day to see if he could get on anti-seizure meds and go back to work. Hanging over all that was the awareness that our Sunday School program this Fall is a complete improvisation, a faithful effort to lead a small core of families through a process of preparation to start a new Eucharist on Sunday mornings. This plan attempts to explore new ways of doing "multi-generational liturgy" The work of Caroline Fairless at Children at Worship has been great for helping me distill and then articulate what was once a vague and largely intuitive sense that our traditional liturgies at All Saints, lovely as they are, leave a lot of folks out. I still needed to get this week's lesson plan firmed up and start making plans for next week when I will be out of town--all of that while still honoring my commitment to take Friday off.
Oh...and Happy Birthday to me! Thank God we had nothing planned for this, my 48th birthday...
I had a big knot inside me all day. I got my friend to the neurologist and in the process also got some important information about a clinic that offers very reasonably-priced primary care to Latinos. My child got back on asthma meds and even got a flu shot. The lesson plans came together, at least for this week, and some new ideas for next week began percolating. I even got to have a lovely meal at our favorite special restaurant in town. But the knot was still there.
You see, at CREDO, the conference I attended three weeks ago, the time I had for silence and sorting, I was reminded of a wonderful little maxim from Colombia: "the person who tries to hug too much squeezes too little". Here I am, trying to do new church development along two different lines, with two very different sets of people, all at once. I love both sets of challenges. But I am also the mother of a child with significant special needs, and a husband who has worked incredibly hard as a priest for over 20 years and is tired. And, much as I try not to think about it these days since things have sort-of stabilized, I am the daughter of a person dying of cancer.
The knot I had been carrying all week, the one that manifested itself as a muscle spasm along my shoulder blade, would just not go away. The fibers of my being all tangled and knotted and tight kept trying to speak and I kept getting busier and busier and busier instead.
Early on Friday, I prayed and reflected on my week. When I was away, at a healthy distance from my life, when I spoke Spanish for almost the entire time, and listened to other priest's stories of doing Hispanic/Latino ministries, I was called, compelled really, to make sure that I give that ministry the nurture and tending it requires. I came back home brimming with ideas that we've even started working on--fund raising plans and an evangelism event that I'm really excited about. I had it all figured out, about what I need to do and be. But more and more kept getting added on as I "re-entered" my life. I could not sift fast enough to keep things sorted and in their proper perspective. I'm glad I did stop for that short time of quiet on Friday. I know now that I won't get there all at once, but I am determined that the work I need to do with the new liturgy on Sundays is one of calling and empowering others to bring this new ministry to fulfillment so I can respond faithfully to the sense of call to the Centro.
On Friday afternoon, Spouseman had a meeting with a member of the parish who we have hoped could make a contribution to the capital fund for the new buildings at All Saints. As he was preparing for that meeting, I finished taking care of the last details for the liturgies of this weekend. All Saints Day and the Feast of the Faithful Departed are very important in the Latino culture. At least this year, I am finding that death and transformation in faith--the essence of vocation--are inextricably linked. I found a piece to sing after communion called "Into Your Hands" that includes the phrase, "if we would live, we must be willing to die, into your hands I commend my life." Sifting, discernment, sometimes feels like dying to me, and all my instincts for survival kick into highest gear, making me more truculent, less open to light and hope and love. That piece nudged me further into trust.
Then I went off to my Pilates class, at peace with the fact that I had not had the day off that I had wanted but had experienced some renewal, nonetheless. The stretching and strength exercises I did really helped and for the first time in days, I could turn my head without pain. When I got home I found out two things. The donor made a hugely generous commitment to the new building fund. She also wrote a check for $50,000 for me to use in support of the ministries at the Centro.