Interesting week. Tuesday was the celebration of Mardi Gras, the last day before Lent begins. I have fond memories of spending the day on St. Charles Ave. in New Orleans, catching beads from the endless line of floats.
On Wednesday I made it to the church for the morning prayer time when ashes would also be offered. I'm so glad there was this alternative as it would be difficult for me to negotiate our chapel with crutches at the evening service. Plus I've missed making it to this weekly prayer time.
Thursday was the celebration of Valentine's Day. I found it interesting on facebook how many friends shared "larger ways" of celebrating beyond just couples sharing their love for one another. Considering that St. Valentine was a Christian priest who helped Christians escape the persecution, it seems like a holiday named in his honor should encourage the deeper (and perhaps more dangerous) love that was central to Jesus' ministry.
Today is Friday. The day of my Dr. appointment. Four weeks ago he told me that if the x-rays looked good I might get a walking cast today. Well, they took off my cast, took the x-rays, I got a walking boot, but I'm still not walking. I'm to continue with no weight on the left leg for another six weeks! To the end of March! That will be three months since my slip on the ice. I tried to think good thoughts as I walked out with my new boot. After all, it will be great to be able to take it off and move my toes and ankles. I'm already thinking of the ease of showering without having to put plastic around a cast. Hopefully I'll sleep better taking off the boot and not having a cast on my leg any longer. But my mind continues to return to SIX more weeks hobbling precariously on crutches. This is a Lenten journey I hadn't expected.
But I should have expected it. At my first follow-up appointment back in January I asked him about a trip I had planned to New Orleans in March. He pointed out I could be still hobbling on one foot, so I cancelled the trip. At my last appointment he did say, "if the x-rays look good." My mind heard, "the x-rays will look good." This morning I learned that everything is healing well except the bone has not regenerated enough around the lower screws to allow moving to a weight-bearing stage.
As I was thinking to myself, how can I get through another 6 weeks, I remembered the article I read last week about the Iraq soldier who lost both legs and both arms in an armored vehicle explosion. He was in the news after receiving two arm transplants. As I read the article I thought how does one deal with that - with the fact that it won't be healed in 7 weeks or 13 weeks, or any number of weeks: the arms and legs are gone. It's pretty sobering and I give this young man lots of credit for his outlook on his future. He was glad to be alive. Since the explosion in 2009 he has moved forward with his life. He learned to walk on prosthetic legs. And now he hand arms and hands. I loved his comment that was something like, "I can live without my legs, but hands, I need them for so many things - even talking! It's hard for me to imagine ever saying "I can live without my legs." I have a feeling this young man has loving, supportive people in his life. We all need loving, supportive people in our lives to help us through the difficult times, whether they are for weeks, months, or however long.
I have been surrounded by such a community, but among everyone else my husband, Richard, has stood out. Tonight as he hands me a glass of wine then heads back to the kitchen to finish up dinner, I will say a little prayer of thanks (this is the only part of my recovery that I will miss). I'm not yet to to the place that I can put both feet on the ground and help out in the kitchen, but I am firmly grounded in gratitude and humbled by those who help others each and every day. Thank you!
Friday, February 15, 2013
Thursday, January 31, 2013
A little stability... Please?
If you stand, stand.
If you sit, sit.
But don't wobble!
---- Zen Master Ummon
(quoted from The Art of Pilgrimage by Phil Cousineau)
I've been thinking about stability. My mind turns easily to the word as I catch myself leaning precariously in one direction or another or as I look at the crutches propped up on a wall just beyond me and wonder if I can make one hop over to them. Before I left the hospital I was visited by a physical therapist. First she showed me how to use a walker to move around. She thought it would be best because of its stability. Now you would think that with the four legs of a walker plus my one usable leg I'd have lots of stability. Yet I found out quickly that it's not good to lean on just one side, and it is not helpful to try to reach too far for it (as I did the first evening home and ended up on the floor).
However, the walker is starting to really hurt my hands. There is no cushion to the handles of where the walker is grasped so I got a soft winter scarf, cut it lengthwise down the middle and wrapped half of it on each grip. That helped for a while, but my wrists still need a break. So now I'm trying to use my crutches more often. Again, you would think that two crutches plus one good leg would equal some stability -- but give me two legs any day! I've been practicing with the crutches more often the past couple of days, but they are still a bit elusive, and again I've ended up on the floor. I have no idea what happened when I went down the other morning!
So it was interesting to read the words of Zen Master Ummon today as I contemplate stability. When I stand, I can stand. When I sit, I can sit. When I try to move? ...Unfortunately, "wobbly" is probably the best word.
As I think about it, pilgrimage seems to be connected to stability. We go on pilgrimage and are changed slowly but certainly inside. We get stronger physically (and perhaps improve with walkers and crutches as we [I] practice). But the real work is going on inside.
One thing that keeps us unstable is to follow another person's dream. Often our parents think we will be more stable if we are in a well-paying position as a lawyer, doctor, banker, etc. But it will only bring stability if it is our calling, our dream, our deep desire.
I remember the evening I told my parents that I was answering a call to diaconal ministry in the United Methodist Church. My mom wouldn't talk to me the rest of the night. She had never interfered with the variety of jobs I had held, but as we talked the next day I learned that she could tolerate them because they allowed me to pay my bills, to keep my life stable in her eyes. My mom had been raised as the youngest of 8 children by a single mother who divorced when mom was 3 years old. Mom was 7 when the depression hit and she knew first-hand the terror of my grandmother not having enough house-cleaning jobs, wall-papering opportunities, laundry to take care of. She knew the fear that my grandmother felt as my mother waded through flood water in the root cellar to rescue the jar with the "tax money" in it - the money gradually being set aside for taxes on the house so it would not be lost.
So when my mom heard me talk about ministry, she pictured poverty and instability. It took quite a bit to assure her that I would be okay (though I have to say, I was not really certain). I couldn't explain it to her then, I was still learning about trusting God (and of course, still am), but as I have moved through the years I have found that it is when I move towards instability, which requires more trusting in God, I have actually ended up with more stability. Of course it's that way... God just loves a paradox. Perhaps this journey with God provides a stability similar to walking on two legs. Doesn't seem like it should be more stable than a leg and a walker, or a leg and two crutches - but it is. Of course, I've practiced walking on two legs much longer than using a walker or crutches. Likewise, I continue to practice trusting in God, to feel more familiar with hearing God's call, to pray unceasingly so all in my life will be made more stable by my relationship with God. I may be "wobbly" in my standing on one leg with crutches, but hopefully I will not be "wobbly" in my relationship with God.
So if you find yourself drawn towards a instability, ask if it might not be God messing with you. May God be with you in the journey.
"So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live your lives in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness."
Colossians 2:6&7
Friday, January 25, 2013
Confessions of a Gun Buyer
I used to buy guns. Lots of them. As the hunting buyer for a wholesaler in Denver I bought everything from reloading equipment to Remingtons, bright orange hunting vests to Savage Arms, Smith & Wessons to binoculars. It didn't seem strange to be in the business; my dad had given me a 28 gauge shotgun years before and I enjoyed shooting trap and skeet with it. My dad and brother both hunted. When not using the shotguns or rifles they were stored way in the back of a hall closet.
I've been thinking about that time in my life as I hear many sides of the gun debate. I used to be a member of the NRA, but let my membership expire. Thirty years ago they seemed to be taking the same stand as today - any type of gun control might mean that individuals would no longer have the right to own guns. I never did and still do not understand that kind of thinking. It seems rather paranoid.
You can google "gun control" and get a timeline of legislation that has placed restrictions on owning guns. We've had restrictions on automatic weapons like machine guns since the 1930s. In 1968 the Gun Control Act was passed that limited who could purchase a gun and required any business selling firearms to keep records of the serial numbers of guns sold. We've had gun control for years, and as far as I can tell people can still own guns. In fact, unlike when I was in the business, most states now allow people to carry concealed weapons. Concealed weapons can even be carried into our National Parks in those states where they are legal.
I remember the moment when I knew I needed to get out of the "gun" business. I had moved to MA to head a wholesale buying co-operative (a group of 18 hunting distributors who pooled their orders so they could compete with the "big-box" retailers like Wal-Mart). One day I was proof-reading a flyer and my eye stopped on the ad for Colt AR-15s. I knew that the AR-15 was the civilian version of the M16 used by the military and for the first time I started to wonder why anyone would need or want a military-type gun. And I realized I didn't want to be part of the industry that provided these guns to individuals.
Interestingly enough, it was the hunting business that brought me out to New England, and it was in New England that God and I were reacquainted. I had been raised in the church, baptized and confirmed, but after college I drifted away from attending worship regularly. But as I was driving to Massachusetts from Colorado I heard a voice saying, "Get thee to a church." It was God, of course. I know this because the voice actually spoke in God's language, King James English. I knew it was time and found Trinity United Methodist Church in Springfield. I started to participate in Bible Studies and prayer groups. I listened to the sermons and participated in discussions. The steady work of prayer and scripture and the Holy Spirit showed itself the day I read that flyer. I had crossed a point and saw there was no turning back. It was time for me to leave.
But it was hard. I had many friends in the business; I'm still in touch with some. They were good people. They are good people. I told the buying co-operative members that I felt I was being called into ministry. One of them asked if they couldn't be my ministry. I think of the people I know who own guns. The guns are not an obsession with them, but simply a means by which they go hunting, or enjoy target shooting. It's interesting... what I don't know is which of my friends own guns for protection. Maybe they've told me and I just didn't want to know.
So I confess, I used to buy guns. I'm sure the Second Amendment will continue to protect the right to own guns. But I am 100% FOR banning automatic and semi-automatic weapons along with clips and magazines that hold more than 10 rounds. I believe there should be a waiting period so background checks can be completed and I think that there should be some definite restrictions on who can buy a gun.
Jesus did not live in a time of guns, but as I read the Gospel stories I notice something about him. Here he is living in an occupied country. I don't know for a fact, but I have a feeling the Jews are not allowed to arm themselves. But not once do I hear Jesus say, "let's work for the right to carry a sword." Or "If only we had weapons, then things would be good." Instead Jesus reminds us of the most important commandment: You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind, all your strength, and your neighbor as yourself. Loving God, loving others. In no way will an AR-15 help me to love others. Can we possibly live in a world without them? I can.
I've been thinking about that time in my life as I hear many sides of the gun debate. I used to be a member of the NRA, but let my membership expire. Thirty years ago they seemed to be taking the same stand as today - any type of gun control might mean that individuals would no longer have the right to own guns. I never did and still do not understand that kind of thinking. It seems rather paranoid.
You can google "gun control" and get a timeline of legislation that has placed restrictions on owning guns. We've had restrictions on automatic weapons like machine guns since the 1930s. In 1968 the Gun Control Act was passed that limited who could purchase a gun and required any business selling firearms to keep records of the serial numbers of guns sold. We've had gun control for years, and as far as I can tell people can still own guns. In fact, unlike when I was in the business, most states now allow people to carry concealed weapons. Concealed weapons can even be carried into our National Parks in those states where they are legal.
I remember the moment when I knew I needed to get out of the "gun" business. I had moved to MA to head a wholesale buying co-operative (a group of 18 hunting distributors who pooled their orders so they could compete with the "big-box" retailers like Wal-Mart). One day I was proof-reading a flyer and my eye stopped on the ad for Colt AR-15s. I knew that the AR-15 was the civilian version of the M16 used by the military and for the first time I started to wonder why anyone would need or want a military-type gun. And I realized I didn't want to be part of the industry that provided these guns to individuals.
Interestingly enough, it was the hunting business that brought me out to New England, and it was in New England that God and I were reacquainted. I had been raised in the church, baptized and confirmed, but after college I drifted away from attending worship regularly. But as I was driving to Massachusetts from Colorado I heard a voice saying, "Get thee to a church." It was God, of course. I know this because the voice actually spoke in God's language, King James English. I knew it was time and found Trinity United Methodist Church in Springfield. I started to participate in Bible Studies and prayer groups. I listened to the sermons and participated in discussions. The steady work of prayer and scripture and the Holy Spirit showed itself the day I read that flyer. I had crossed a point and saw there was no turning back. It was time for me to leave.
But it was hard. I had many friends in the business; I'm still in touch with some. They were good people. They are good people. I told the buying co-operative members that I felt I was being called into ministry. One of them asked if they couldn't be my ministry. I think of the people I know who own guns. The guns are not an obsession with them, but simply a means by which they go hunting, or enjoy target shooting. It's interesting... what I don't know is which of my friends own guns for protection. Maybe they've told me and I just didn't want to know.
So I confess, I used to buy guns. I'm sure the Second Amendment will continue to protect the right to own guns. But I am 100% FOR banning automatic and semi-automatic weapons along with clips and magazines that hold more than 10 rounds. I believe there should be a waiting period so background checks can be completed and I think that there should be some definite restrictions on who can buy a gun.
Jesus did not live in a time of guns, but as I read the Gospel stories I notice something about him. Here he is living in an occupied country. I don't know for a fact, but I have a feeling the Jews are not allowed to arm themselves. But not once do I hear Jesus say, "let's work for the right to carry a sword." Or "If only we had weapons, then things would be good." Instead Jesus reminds us of the most important commandment: You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind, all your strength, and your neighbor as yourself. Loving God, loving others. In no way will an AR-15 help me to love others. Can we possibly live in a world without them? I can.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Remember your baptism
Do you remember your baptism? I've been thinking about this since worship Sunday morning. We read the story in Mark of Jesus' baptism. Heard a great sermon, then the congregation had the opportunity to come forward to the baptismal font and take up water as they remembered their baptism. I was unable to go forward, but my friend David picked up a handful of water and tossed it back 3 rows, spraying my face with God's cleansing grace (and a few of my neighbors also).
I have a sketchy memory of my own baptism. My brother was born in October 1952 and was probably 3 or 4 months old which means I was about two. I think this must be one of my earliest memories. I don't remember the water of baptism - what I remember is holding onto the rail that surrounded the altar - maybe even swinging on it a little bit? All the attention seemed to be on my brother as far as I can remember.
My baptism is my first memory of church. I was baptized at First United Methodist Church in Great Bend Kansas. We had moved to Great Bend from Casper WY the summer of 1951. I remember the building with its center dome high above the sanctuary. A number of years ago my husband Richard and I were driving home from visiting my parents in Texas and went through Great Bend. We attended an Ash Wednesday service in the chapel. As I walked through the sanctuary (which I had not seen since I was 10 years old) it had a familiar feel to it. I saw the rail around the large altar area and the memory of my baptism returned. I went to Sunday School, worshiped, & attended Vacation Bible School at First UMC. It is a part of my spiritual family tree.
Last Sunday our pastor pointed out the paradox that we consider Jesus to be without sin, pure and divine, yet he steps forward and insists that John baptize him. Jesus enters into this ritual of repentance and cleansing; perhaps a reminder to us that Jesus is fully Divine, but also fully human, and in being fully human with us he too receives his baptism. I am always moved by the final verses of this story when the dove descends and a voice from heaven says, "You are my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased." I believe God says that to all of us, baptized or not: "You are my beloved son or daughter."
I felt tears rising as I watched the members of our congregation walk down the aisle to remember their baptism, to remember that God loves each one of them. They were invited to come forward, whether or not they had actually been baptized, whether or not they were Christian. They were invited to come forward and receive this reminder that each one is a beloved son or daughter of God. And then, towards the end, water splashed upon my all face and I felt that glorious cleansing power of the Holy Spirit. The water that is so necessary for life reminds me of how I thirst for God's love, and how God's love never goes away - I just need to turn my face to God.
Do you remember your baptism? Whether you do or not, whether you were baptized or not, I hope you will remember that you are God's beloved daughter, God's beloved son. May God's blessings be with you on the journey.
I have a sketchy memory of my own baptism. My brother was born in October 1952 and was probably 3 or 4 months old which means I was about two. I think this must be one of my earliest memories. I don't remember the water of baptism - what I remember is holding onto the rail that surrounded the altar - maybe even swinging on it a little bit? All the attention seemed to be on my brother as far as I can remember.
My baptism is my first memory of church. I was baptized at First United Methodist Church in Great Bend Kansas. We had moved to Great Bend from Casper WY the summer of 1951. I remember the building with its center dome high above the sanctuary. A number of years ago my husband Richard and I were driving home from visiting my parents in Texas and went through Great Bend. We attended an Ash Wednesday service in the chapel. As I walked through the sanctuary (which I had not seen since I was 10 years old) it had a familiar feel to it. I saw the rail around the large altar area and the memory of my baptism returned. I went to Sunday School, worshiped, & attended Vacation Bible School at First UMC. It is a part of my spiritual family tree.
Last Sunday our pastor pointed out the paradox that we consider Jesus to be without sin, pure and divine, yet he steps forward and insists that John baptize him. Jesus enters into this ritual of repentance and cleansing; perhaps a reminder to us that Jesus is fully Divine, but also fully human, and in being fully human with us he too receives his baptism. I am always moved by the final verses of this story when the dove descends and a voice from heaven says, "You are my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased." I believe God says that to all of us, baptized or not: "You are my beloved son or daughter."
I felt tears rising as I watched the members of our congregation walk down the aisle to remember their baptism, to remember that God loves each one of them. They were invited to come forward, whether or not they had actually been baptized, whether or not they were Christian. They were invited to come forward and receive this reminder that each one is a beloved son or daughter of God. And then, towards the end, water splashed upon my all face and I felt that glorious cleansing power of the Holy Spirit. The water that is so necessary for life reminds me of how I thirst for God's love, and how God's love never goes away - I just need to turn my face to God.
Do you remember your baptism? Whether you do or not, whether you were baptized or not, I hope you will remember that you are God's beloved daughter, God's beloved son. May God's blessings be with you on the journey.
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Going deeper, reaching farther
It's a little odd to be using a technology that I don't completely understand. For instance, when I started this blog up again I thought I'd write a couple of entries, then let people know I was writing again. I was so surprised to start hearing from people. Someone emailed me and a copy of the "Accidental Pilgrim" was in the body of the email - that's when I realized that it was being sent out automatically to those who had signed up. Someday I might learn how to change the subject line of the emails so it doesn't continue to read "Camino..."
I remember when I was planning for the Camino and the first few days of walking; I was going to memorize some of the Psalms. Well, that required pulling my attention away from the walk itself and that wasn't working. I really wanted to be present to everything I was seeing, hearing, smelling, and feeling, as I walked.
It's different when you're sitting in one place. I do try to take the time to stare out the window. In the mornings I have some quiet time looking out our bedroom window at the garden - which is beautiful when it's covered with snow. But spending all day on the couch with my computer and books and the remotes does not lend itself to being present in the same way. Instead my presence is with the book I am reading, or the person who is visiting, or the program I'm watching or the music I'm listening to -- all happening from my same seat in the living room. So I continue to practice being present, even in these new circumstances.
Last Thursday night I had my first outing - to see the dress rehearsal for the Boar's Head Festival at our church (you can see pictures and a short video at the Trinity UMC website: http://trinityspringfield.org.) It was so great to get out! On Friday morning I had another outing - to see the orthopedic surgeon for a follow-up. Staples were taken out of incisions, a new, lighter splint was put on, swelling was down - all good things. We were talking, trying to get a better sense of how this recuperation would go. Finally I asked about a trip I was planning to New Orleans in March. I wanted to hear that my ankle might be painful as I worked at walking, but it would be fine to travel. What I was actually told was that yes, I could travel, if I didn't mind using the walker, or wheelchair, and or crutches. When I asked if I would be using these aids while walking on one foot or both the Dr. told me I'd still be on one foot. Ouch!! He went on to say it was more realistic that I'd start gradually putting weight on the ankle and walking again in during the month of April.
That was a setback! I felt the same fear I'd felt at the beginning of the Camino - what if I can't really do this? As we headed home my mind started working actively: you need to start exercising again, work on strength so you can get out more and get around more easily; plan some projects; start this, start that. Oh, my mind really misses its "to do" list. We came to an agreement (my mind and I) that there are some things I can do that will help with these next months, but by the time I got home, I knew there was one thing, just one thing I needed to do with this: take it to God. For God isn't looking at just the next 3 months, God knows my whole life. God isn't counting the days until I get around again, God is asking me to live fully in every day. God doesn't really care about my time "laid up" --God just cares about me "period". God isn't about chronological time, God is about creation, being, loving. The news from the Dr. reminded me that indeed I am on a pilgrimage. There will be obstacles, but each is an opportunity to return once more to God, to trust in God, to live more deeply in God's love.
So God - I'm in your hands. Help me to go deeper that I might see how to live more fully during this chapter of my life. And in going deeper, may I learn to reach farther as I learn more about myself, about the world and about You. Amen.
I remember when I was planning for the Camino and the first few days of walking; I was going to memorize some of the Psalms. Well, that required pulling my attention away from the walk itself and that wasn't working. I really wanted to be present to everything I was seeing, hearing, smelling, and feeling, as I walked.
It's different when you're sitting in one place. I do try to take the time to stare out the window. In the mornings I have some quiet time looking out our bedroom window at the garden - which is beautiful when it's covered with snow. But spending all day on the couch with my computer and books and the remotes does not lend itself to being present in the same way. Instead my presence is with the book I am reading, or the person who is visiting, or the program I'm watching or the music I'm listening to -- all happening from my same seat in the living room. So I continue to practice being present, even in these new circumstances.
Last Thursday night I had my first outing - to see the dress rehearsal for the Boar's Head Festival at our church (you can see pictures and a short video at the Trinity UMC website: http://trinityspringfield.org.) It was so great to get out! On Friday morning I had another outing - to see the orthopedic surgeon for a follow-up. Staples were taken out of incisions, a new, lighter splint was put on, swelling was down - all good things. We were talking, trying to get a better sense of how this recuperation would go. Finally I asked about a trip I was planning to New Orleans in March. I wanted to hear that my ankle might be painful as I worked at walking, but it would be fine to travel. What I was actually told was that yes, I could travel, if I didn't mind using the walker, or wheelchair, and or crutches. When I asked if I would be using these aids while walking on one foot or both the Dr. told me I'd still be on one foot. Ouch!! He went on to say it was more realistic that I'd start gradually putting weight on the ankle and walking again in during the month of April.
That was a setback! I felt the same fear I'd felt at the beginning of the Camino - what if I can't really do this? As we headed home my mind started working actively: you need to start exercising again, work on strength so you can get out more and get around more easily; plan some projects; start this, start that. Oh, my mind really misses its "to do" list. We came to an agreement (my mind and I) that there are some things I can do that will help with these next months, but by the time I got home, I knew there was one thing, just one thing I needed to do with this: take it to God. For God isn't looking at just the next 3 months, God knows my whole life. God isn't counting the days until I get around again, God is asking me to live fully in every day. God doesn't really care about my time "laid up" --God just cares about me "period". God isn't about chronological time, God is about creation, being, loving. The news from the Dr. reminded me that indeed I am on a pilgrimage. There will be obstacles, but each is an opportunity to return once more to God, to trust in God, to live more deeply in God's love.
So God - I'm in your hands. Help me to go deeper that I might see how to live more fully during this chapter of my life. And in going deeper, may I learn to reach farther as I learn more about myself, about the world and about You. Amen.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
A Quieter Pilgrimage
I slept well that first night out of the hospital. Though I came home on New Year's Eve I didn't stay up long, and I'm sure the pain pill I took helped. A couple of trips to the bathroom using my new "push the walker, hop on right foot" technique made it clear that this was going to be a very long six weeks. Actually, I'm hoping it's only going to be six weeks - the orthopedic surgeon had mentioned being laid up that long, but another time he was talking about 3-4 months. I checked with Richard and yes, he heard the same thing. We are both hoping the longer period is just a time line for gradually adding weight to my left leg and getting back on track.
New Year's Day was nice - watched the parade, family came by the visit, watched football games. But then came Wednesday. I had a terrible night's sleep and this "push the walker, hop on right foot" thing was really getting old. I couldn't believe how tired I was arriving at the couch or back on my bed! Oh yes, this was going to be a long six weeks. I don't know how this popped into my mind, but I started looking at the similarities of this time to my pilgrimage on the Camino: I had only two changes of clothes in Spain, now I have two pair of flannel pants that will fit over the splint; I had to pack very lightly in order to carry everything with me, I can't carry anything with me as the walker is so awkward (I do now have a light pack that I use); there's lots of time set aside to think, or just be while walking, there's lots of time set aside to think, or just be while sitting; having the support of friends and family meant a lot while I was in Spain, having the support of friends and family means a lot as I heal; my feet were often burning and aching so badly, now my hands are burning and aching from pushing on the walker.
There are some big differences also: no walking, of course, and also no nightly dinner meeting new people from other countries around the world, reunions with people met earlier on the way, seeing new geography along the way. But I started to think about what made the Camino a pilgrimage -- it had everything to do with how I intentional responded to each situation. By making the decision to be on a pilgrimage, I decided to do some things differently. I tried to recognize when I was falling into my fears, not trusting God, limiting myself. As I set in my living room last week I decided that I wanted to approach this six weeks of healing as a pilgrimage also - being intentional in how I responded to my situation.
For you see, a part of me really wanted to throw a big pity party. I was so irritated with myself for having this accident and changing everything for this winter. I was so tired, uncomfortable, still with a little pain, and more than a little anxious about having day in/day out of sitting for weeks to come. When I stopped and decided to turn it over to God in prayer, I had that final connection to my pilgrimage in Spain. I realized that once again this would be a time to trust in God, stay in prayer, and make the best of this new reality.
So here I am on a pilgrimage with absolutely no planning at all! I didn't have to purchase a lot of gear (though Richard did pick up a wonderful "convoluted seat cushion" for me which is giving relief to my rather sore bum. I'm trying to keep up with the work items I can do from my lap top, but I also have copious amounts of time to read and look out the window - because I can't really do much else.
The irony is not lost on me that I went on my Camino pilgrimage to sort of lay the ground work for entering the final third of my life. I have to say I did not expect to be laid up so completely less than 2 years later and I'm thankful that it is only temporary. No, I won't be walking on this Camino, and in the shelter of my home it is much quieter. This pilgrimage will be one that includes silence in some new ways. I'm looking forward to finding out what else is in store for this accidental pilgrim!
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Ooops! Ouch! Pilgrimage.
Well, it was a week ago today that I had my accident. One minute I'm walking to church; one second later I'm sitting on my bum with the realization that my left ankle is hurt... badly. I love walking to church. While I was completing my pilgrimage in Spain in 2011 my mind turned to home and how I could continue the experience. I decided I would start walking to church every Sunday.
Now I'd walked to church often over the years. Richard and I would walk with Darcie and Gabrielle when they were kids. In the summer months I would get back into the routine for a while. But in October 2011 I decided to be very intentional about my walk. I love it! My worship begins when I say "goodbye" and walk out the back door. Sometimes it's enriched by one or more of my grandchildren joining me. Sometimes it meant really bundling up last winter. There were Sundays when my face hurt where my cold sunglasses touched my skin. On many Sundays I walked along with my scarf pulled up over my nose and hat down over my forehead. I always had a choice as to whether or not I would walk, but it did not take long to notice that others had no choice and were often out in the frigid air with minimal protection.
So last Sunday I looked outside. We'd had a fresh snowfall and it was a beautiful world of white. That was the initial enticement. I thought about ice, yeah, there will be some ice. But I figured my snow boots would help with traction. I also thought about the fact that I was preaching - not a time to take chances. But again, I thought of how I walked all last winter... what could happen? I didn't want to lose my rhythm of walking this early in the winter.
I do have to say that I was thoroughly enjoying my walk when I went down. It caught me by surprise and as I sat there it occurred to me (finally) that there was ice already under the snow from rain freezing earlier in the week. I sat there and begged my leg to not be broken - maybe just a bad ankle sprain? After unsuccessfully engaging the guy 3 houses down trying to start his snow blower (he looked at me, then went back to his snow blower), I got on all fours and headed to the little ledge around the shop and sat down. As I looked up I saw the guy behind me who had been snow blowing the business on the other side of the street. He had stopped and was looking at me. I waved at him and he came over and let me use his phone (yes, I forgot to put mine in my pack).
As I sat there for the few minutes it took for Richard to come over, I started letting things go: no, there was no way I was going to preach, no way I'd be able to participate in the Boar's Head Festival, and on and on. If I hadn't been in such pain I would have noticed the beginning of a pilgrimage right then... for much of my Camino experience was about letting go. But after a trip to the brand new E.R. at Baystate (which was so quiet!), surgery, pain meds, and finally a return home, I got around to reflecting about pilgrimage and realized that accidentally, I had become a pilgrim.
Now I'd walked to church often over the years. Richard and I would walk with Darcie and Gabrielle when they were kids. In the summer months I would get back into the routine for a while. But in October 2011 I decided to be very intentional about my walk. I love it! My worship begins when I say "goodbye" and walk out the back door. Sometimes it's enriched by one or more of my grandchildren joining me. Sometimes it meant really bundling up last winter. There were Sundays when my face hurt where my cold sunglasses touched my skin. On many Sundays I walked along with my scarf pulled up over my nose and hat down over my forehead. I always had a choice as to whether or not I would walk, but it did not take long to notice that others had no choice and were often out in the frigid air with minimal protection.
So last Sunday I looked outside. We'd had a fresh snowfall and it was a beautiful world of white. That was the initial enticement. I thought about ice, yeah, there will be some ice. But I figured my snow boots would help with traction. I also thought about the fact that I was preaching - not a time to take chances. But again, I thought of how I walked all last winter... what could happen? I didn't want to lose my rhythm of walking this early in the winter.
I do have to say that I was thoroughly enjoying my walk when I went down. It caught me by surprise and as I sat there it occurred to me (finally) that there was ice already under the snow from rain freezing earlier in the week. I sat there and begged my leg to not be broken - maybe just a bad ankle sprain? After unsuccessfully engaging the guy 3 houses down trying to start his snow blower (he looked at me, then went back to his snow blower), I got on all fours and headed to the little ledge around the shop and sat down. As I looked up I saw the guy behind me who had been snow blowing the business on the other side of the street. He had stopped and was looking at me. I waved at him and he came over and let me use his phone (yes, I forgot to put mine in my pack).
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