(Re)Learning to Breathe

 

“My grace is enough; it’s all you need.  My strength comes into its own in your weakness.

            Once I heard that, I was glad to let it happen.

I quit focusing on the handicap and began appreciating the gift.

            It was a case of Christ’s strength moving in on my weakness. 

Now I take limitations in stride, and with good cheer, these limitations that cut me down to size—abuse, accidents, opposition, bad breaks. 

            I just let Christ take over!

And so the weaker I get, the stronger I become.”  

2 Co 12:9-12 * 

                                                

Lying in the uncomfortable hospital bed, jerked awake by a sudden burst of overhead light, I first hear the words, “spinal cord injury”.  

                        Wait…  

                                    What?  

My mind jolts alert, despite the hour (morning rounds come early here in-hospital) and I’m stricken by loss, laid low in a bed of hot pain, lying here, unable to move.  Fixed in place by pillows behind my back, between my legs, under my arms, I am almost crazy with a need—

to move, 

            to run, 

                        to fight, 

                                                to fly.  

Instead I am 

frozen,  

            frightened, 

                        hurting, 

                                    helpless.

Mortified, tears scald my cheeks and I’m grateful I can reach for a tissue --- thankful the damage to my spinal cord is only — (only?? gratitude slips a bit) — only below my ribs, leaving functionally normal shoulders, arms, hands, fingers.  Embittered by shooting pins and needles of pain in my back, hips, legs and feet— an aching girdle of pain clenching my mid-section— muscular spasticity uncontrollably wracking my legs —

            I cry again  

                        and pray some more  

                                    and fall blessedly asleep.

Spirit breathes, 

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion?  Come to me. 

Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. 

I’ll show you how to take a real rest. 

Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. 

Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. 

I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. 

Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” 

                                                Matthew 11:28-30 *

This, my touchstone in days, weeks, months, years to come, when I feel undone, overwhelmed, utterly disabled:  

God is my Comfort and Strength

And Fernando Ortega sings me sleepy each night, “Grace and Peace.  Grace and Peace.  Grace and Peace to you from God our Father.”  Long-high-wide-deep is the spectrum of ambivalence I inhabit — gratitude to anger— fear to empathy—- joy to disappointment— embarrassment to pride — frustration to gratification— where footholds of pain (or fear or anger or envy or... love) propel me into the next emotive response.  I learn new life — inside-out and upside-down and oh-so-often lying-low.  Repeatedly, I lose my way and find GodWay to Trinitarian shalom.  

S-l-o-w rhythms of GodGrace bless me with re-found identity, of being loved as one of God’s BeLoved.

I’m learning to breathe… 

            again and again… 

                        and again.

Amen.

(from an essay written during graduate school, circa 2019)

* Scripture quoted from Eugene Peterson's, "The Message" translation of the Bible

Tuesday-Weds, July 11-12, 2017

Upon awakening and thinking to catch the tail-end of SunRise, I was surprised to find it already high in the sky!  Memory jogs and I recall the northern axis-tilt that calls forth SummerSun early-early here.

          

  

(Fleeting) disappointment was replaced by anticipatory excitement as I prepared for the coming day.   

Soon driving north (amidst detours!), I was headed to meet Cindy who I'd met online a couple of years prior.  We had become friends and, with my Birth Work background, had “virtually” shared her pregnancy, birth and breastfeeding experience.  Approaching the Hartford suburb where her mom lived, I felt a growing curiosity and excitement-- and maybe a bit of apprehension as we’d never actually met face to face.  Cindy greeted me at the front door and by the time I'd been introduced to her mother, husband and 5 month old Richard, I felt so welcome that any awkwardness soon dissipated.   

Following a delightful brunch (shout-out for that kale and quinoa casserole!), and our (too short) visit, I took my leave as I had a plane to meet and another Cindy to greet!  Longtime ForeverFriend, Cindy Gray, was flying into Bradley Intl Airport from the Keys to join me on the northernmost leg of my trip.  

After retrieving Cindy and her luggage, we headed back south to Milford, our route again, circuitous -- ahem, scenic!  Connecticut's Road services department has many projects and we seem destined to discover every one as we wound our way back to David’s Place.  

Catching up on each other's lives became the order of the day and, as we gazed out over Long Island Sound (a highly recommended LongView, btw), afternoon became evening became night and, amidst earplugs, white noise and strategically placed pillows, we retired to bed and slept a good night’s sleep!

                                    *          *          *           *          *          *          *

Wednesday:  Wherein Our DrivingTour through Milford and Near By Fills Our Cups of Happiness!

 

 

BoardWalk-walking at WhiteSands Park showed us the northern Atlantic's version of a sandbar -- a bit odd to us of the more Florida Bay and Gulf of Mexico pursuasion.   Dubiously, we watched the braver-than-we generations of Milford's swimmers splash happily about in the (brrrrrrr cold!) waters.  We received our own refreshment later on a leisurely drive-about, when a “Rita’s Ice” sign promised us “Ices, Custards and... Happiness”...  

... Irresistible that, so a quick U-ey directed us back for our own cup of enjoyment in the Milford Arboretum under the shade of a giant oak tree.  

 

Replete we headed back, the views beckoning, promising rest and recharge.  

                                    

Later that evening (finally hungry!), we visited a local eatery... 

                                

... where ServerDave regaled us with table-talk on proper lobster-opening (😳😅) as he served our Maine lobster dinner with his own personal version of NewEngland know-how... 

Fully receptive, we donned our lobster-bibs and dove in!

(the following to be appreciatively murmured with gusto in a southern vernacular...)

"Yeah.  MmmmHmmmm!"

Lobster + Potato + CornOnCob, sans adornment save butter, salt, pepper... a sublime exampling of simplicity, indeed. 

“Home" again, perchance to dream of tomorrow's AdventuresNorth.