Spiritual Mothering

         

                

I have a love-hate relationship with Spring. I love watching the earth come back to life and green up. This morning, as I was walking my back yard labyrinth, I marveled at how green our back yard was. I found simple pleasure seeing my dead, gray lavender showing signs of tender gray/green leaves coming back out with the promise of purple flowers and relaxing fragrance. I hate Spring because it sends my allergies into a tail-spin, and physically I find myself miserable. Spring is also the time when I realize the school year is coming to a close. This past week I got my daughter’s Spring school pictures and immediately it went up on the wall next to the beginning-of-the-year pictures. In that moment I was struck by just how much she has grown up in the last 9 months.

Yesterday in the midst of our church service, as I watched her sitting with her friends, standing and singing and participating in worship without my prompting, I realized how her participation in worship has also grown. And I was reminded once again of the question of “How am I doing in attending to her spiritual growth?” I wondered if I am doing enough to give her a strong foundation. Or am I pushing her too much to express her faith in ways that are reflective of me and maybe not her own unique personality?  We are blessed to be part of a church in which spiritual formation is important, and something that all are a part of, so the responsibility does not fall on my shoulders alone. However, as a clergy mother, I strongly feel the responsibility of my child’s spiritual formation.

I found myself only paying half-attention to the words of worship being spoken. Instead I was immersed in my own ponderings and reminded of some words I wrote in 2011 which were posted to my Facebook page that speaks of the place where motherhood and ministry meet in the most humbling of ways. I share some of those thoughts now, only slightly edited. 

I have been a labyrinth facilitator since 2003 and have had many neat experiences on the labyrinth, but none so moving and thought provoking as my experience of October 2011. I was doing a walk for my former church in conjunction with their Taize service. My husband and daughter went with me so that he could help me unload and set up.

Sometime after the walk had started I heard little feet coming into the room where the walk was taking place. There was my daughter asking me if she could walk the labyrinth. The numbers were small and all were on the labyrinth, so I took some time to help her with her shoes and talk her through what to do when walking the labyrinth with other people (she was used to being on the labyrinth by herself or only with me.)  She started out on her own, me watching from the side, then she came back off and asked me to walk with her. As we walked together, her going first with me behind, yet also guiding and directing to help her go around those others who were also walking, I had one of those moments where the sacred spaces of motherhood and ministry intersected. I was humbled in my remembrance of my responsibility to her spiritual growth, and how without my even really trying hard, she is coming to know and appreciate the quiet spaces with God. It reminded me that sometimes the most effective way of teaching about relationship with God is through our own quiet, yet consistent example. I also had a moment of reflection on how there are times in life where we are in the lead on the path of life's journey - confident, but maybe yet a bit unsure - we are not alone, we never are but in this time God, Christ, Spirit is there right behind us, just a step or two, just enough to help us feel secure and close enough to nudge in guidance when needed. Kind of like I was with my daughter, close enough to give her confidence and guidance when needed, yet also letting her lead, learn and gain confidence in her own walk experience. It was a good reminder for me that even when things are going great, and I seem to have it all under control, God, Christ, Spirit is there right behind me, and that I never really walk alone and I never have to walk alone.

Then she was off again, off to the art table wanting to draw - never having "finished" her walk, but then maybe the point of that walk was not for her to "finish," but for me to notice, listen and ponder, to help me reconnect with an important truth for me. For really in part that is what labyrinths do, connect us - to ourselves and to our relationship with God and others. We just need to take the time to stop and listen and be willing to trust the experience.

I really needed to remember these words, this time where I realized that I am doing enough, that she is getting it. Next Sunday we start on the next part of the spiritual formation journey as she starts discipleship class led by our pastor. I will be a part of the class as her parent and participant in her spiritual formation. I look forward to these next few weeks and seeing where our journey together in this next step of her faith formation takes us. I will journey with her, encouraged by remembering that as long as I am present to her in her faith journey and the questions she raises, then I have done my job of motherhood and ministry.

Seeing in a Whole New Way

First of the series taken on Ash Wednesday

Scanning through my Facebook feed shortly before Ash Wednesday I saw a post of a friend telling about choosing to give up color for Lent and inviting her into this journey with her by posting our own black and white photo each day. The idea intrigued me and I was still not sure what my practice for Lent was to be so I decided to join in. However, I did not have guide or plan for this, it was something that would be figured out as I moved deeper into Lent. What began as my interpretation of giving up something quickly began to transform into a deep spiritual practice. Just like other spiritual practices, this one had much to teach me. Now that Easter Sunday has passed, we have celebrated the resurrection and entered out of the darkness and back into the light of Easter season, it seems appropriate to ruminate a bit here on my experience and lessons learned.

First off, I am a planner to the nth degree; so entering into something that is with out specific instructions and without a formed plan is very uncomfortable for me. I found myself setting boundaries. The picture can’t be just anything and it must be something that has some type of deep connection to the Lent journey. I must not just post the picture, but must reflect on it a bit. These “rules” were helpful for me, until life happened in the midst of Lent. I found myself caught up in the actives of the day and rushing at the end to get something/anything up. Sometimes I had a great picture but was so tired I just could not get the reflection out. The “rules” got forgotten some days and even once I did not get a picture up. My first lesson of this practice was grace and that even when I did not follow my “rules” exactly the intention of the practice was there undergirding my engagement of it. Looking back now some of my favorites of the series of photos were the ones taken in the midst of life happening.

Second, it was a lesson in perseverance and the importance of community. About half way through, I was tired, really tired of remembering to take the photo and finding the words to write. I really wanted to just get to Easter and that last picture that would finally be in color. There were moments where I truly thought about giving it up, but instead pushed forward letting the intention of the journey carry me forward.  In this time it was the comments and likes of my posted photos that kept me engaging the practice. It was not only just me on this journey, but those who were seeing anew through my practice. Sharing my practice so publicly gave it new meaning for me, particularly when I myself felt I was just slogging through.  I am grateful for the encouragement of my Facebook community that came one like at a time.

Lastly, one cannot really fully give up color unless you are unable to see in color. Color surrounds our daily life. But looking at pieces of my life through a black and white photo with all the color striped away, I found myself seeing to the heart of the photo. I saw my family in a new way and in a deeper way; I saw to the center and deep heart of love.  Without color to distract my soul I saw in a new way and connected to my life in a much deeper way. I discovered that black and white is color. It is the color of seeing past the surface and into the depth of what is truly happening in that moment in time.

My Holy week took on a completely different meaning as I prayed each picture I took. I found myself savoring each day of the week with a slow pace to Easter instead of the rushing push to get to the happy part.

I have seen Lent and Holy Week in a wholly different way and with it came seeing my world with new eyes and at a deeper level. Because of this way of engaging my journey to Easter, the Easter colors became so much more vibrant, celebratory and meaning filled. For that and so much more I am giving thanks.

Easter Sunrise