Why Can't I Be Still?
"God, save me from coping.
God, help me to join, not separate.
Help me to be with and in, not apart from.
Show me the way of savoring, not controlling.
Dear God, hear my prayer.
Make me forever cope-less."
Gerald May
“We all have this place, a place in the heart,
where we hold all that is most precious and sacred to us.
From that place, our own kisses issue forth, as do our tears.
It is the place we most guard from others,
but the place where we would most want others to come into;
the place where we are the most deeply alone and the place of intimacy;
the place of innocence and the place where we are violated;
the place of our compassion and the place of our rage.
In that place we are holy.”
Ronald Rolheiser
I'm having a hard time. I'm having a hard time stilling myself in the place that holds my kisses and tears. That place of holy intimacy, alone with God and compassion. Are you? Just yesterday I was in a group text among long-time, treasured friends. In the span of six hours, we celebrated the healthy birth of a first grandchild. And then we buckled under the news of a mother's deadly diagnosis.
How do we hold all these things in our already anxious hearts? The whiplash of life's highs and lows are now exponentially experienced because of today's circumstances. It's so hard to quiet myself. Why am I resisting stillness when I need it the most?
My unhealthy coping mechanisms that distance my heart are still readily available. (As far as I can tell, online shopping and gummy bears are not closed or quarantined.) In my heart of hearts, I know I want to be "with and in, not apart from" myself, God and others. It's not easy.
So, I try again today. I practice again today:
I find my comfortable chair. I light a candle. I take three deep breaths.
I close my eyes.
I remind myself that I am in the presence of my good, kind and generous Father.
I feel my feet on the floor. I feel my bottom and back against the cushions.
I ask, How do I come to my Father today? What do I desire?
I simply notice my responses. I don't judge them.
When I get distracted, I gently return by listening to my breath.
What else am I feeling? I simply notice my feelings.
I remind myself again that I am in the presence of my good, kind and generous Father.
I remain in His presence, anchored by my breath. And I wait with expectation.
And I wait in stillness for the voice of my good, kind and generous Father.