Sealed

Seal /siːl/ noun Definition:

1. a device or substance that is used to join two things together so as to prevent them coming apart or to prevent anything passing between them. 

2. a piece of wax, lead, or other material with an individual design stamped into it, attached to a document as a guarantee of authenticity.

I have news! I have been accepted into the Center for Action and Contemplation's Living School.

I applied to this school last fall after an intense month of fasting and prayer. I spent a lot of time trying to understand my motivations, to make sure I wasn't doing this as an escape, a form of validation, or an ego boost. After a lot of soul searching, I decided that I needed to take steps toward things that would bring a greater wholeness and inner healing, rather than outward service. For a time at least, I knew I needed to learn to receive and grow. I realized that I have spent a lot of time trying to bring people a peace and healing that I have not fully received myself. If I truly want to help people and love them and bring about new life, I need to fully experience that within myself.

So I applied, unsure of whether I would be accepted (the tradition of this school generally includes folks who are older and have more life experience). I decided that if I was accepted, I was definitely going to move back to America in July of 2018 when the school began.

Now here I am. To my great surprise, I have been accepted. I am overjoyed at the opportunity to take part in this school with great spiritual teachers that I have followed for years. But at the same time, I am struggling deeply with leaving Cambodia.

Here in Cambodia I have drastically changed on a fundamental level. I was recently reading old private writings from when I first arrived, and I was shocked at how angry and chaotic my poor heart was. I used to carry so much fear, judgment, and shame. There was a disconnectedness within myself. And while I can look back at who I was with love, I also know how terribly broken she was. If I'm being honest, there is a part of me that is afraid of losing all of this growth when I leave the place that was the catalyst for my new life.

I'm still broken, but I am moving toward wholeness. I am learning to unite my spirit and my mind. Learning to be authentic and brave and full. While still struggling with the ego-driven need to explain my decision and validate my experience. In that I've been clinging to these images and analogies of what the next two years will be. I previously talked about how I was given the phrase that it will be a time of "cleaning the sacred spaces".

Yesterday I met an amazing woman who spent 16 years working in South Africa with the AIDS crisis (and a host of social issues stemming from that). She carried such an excitement and support for my journey, even after knowing me for only a few hours. She gave me the image of a seal, and said she believes that's what this journey will be for me. A time of sealing together my bond with the Divine, so that nothing threatens to separate these parts of myself. A time of bringing about unity and authenticity.

I've got to tell you guys- as scary as it is to look ahead to such a huge transition, it's also invigorating to know that there is so much more ahead than I ever could have known. I'm only at the beginning of this grand journey through life, and I am beyond amazed at all I have seen and have yet to see. All I have known and have yet to know. Thank you all for coming alongside me in this grand wilderness. 

The Hardest Part

I had a call with my grandmother this week. She told me she has been diagnosed with cancer and is beginning chemotherapy soon. I have been struggling to understand the severity of the situation. A world away I can only know what other people tell me. I try to read between the lines of their messages, hoping they hold the answer for me. Wishing they would tell me how much I am allowed to worry and how much it is okay to cry..

You see my grandma is radiant. She is the kindest, most loving and optimistic soul that ever lived. I have never once heard her speak a negative or cynical word. Even in immense pain, her words will never show it. The only thing that exposes her is the twinkling sadness in her eyes. But I can't see that from here, I can't know for certain how she is feeling in the depths of her heart. 

Just last week I was speaking to a friend here in Cambodia about my grandmother. I spent some time talking about how lovely she is, and mentioned that I have always imagined I would move to Canada with her when she gets old and sick. "That won't be for a long time though..." I said with certainty. 

Now the time is here and yet I know it's not time for me to be there. In my head I know she is in capable hands, I know she has an amazing community where she is that will care for her as she fights this. 

My whole heart is with her while she goes through these treatments. But my body is here in Cambodia. And that is the hardest part, being torn as my heart is literally a world away. 

The Time that Fear Steals

I am back home, but continuing to pray about and reflect on my time in India. As I do this, one little girl is constantly on my heart. The image of her rare, yet stunning smile is imprinted on my mind. The joy she brought me is infused with regret for the time I missed with her. 

My first day working in this orphanage of handicapped children I heard her before I saw her. She screamed and wailed from her crib. When I went to console her, she attacked me. As the helpers carried her off of me kicking and screaming, they told me to leave her alone when she cries. Unable to ignore her sadness, I later asked one of the nuns if there was something we could do. As the nun tried to help, she also was attacked. The helpers sternly told me to leave her be. 

So I did. For almost two weeks I tried my best to ignore her screams and focus on the other children. 

But eventually it became too much, I couldn't stand by while she wept anymore. So I slowly approached her. I methodically spent a few minutes only standing near her crib, praying under my breath. Then I spent a few minutes with my hand on the bed, then a few minutes with my hand gently on her back. Suddenly she jumped up and grabbed me, pulling me into her crib. Before I knew it she was sobbing into my lap with her arms wrapped around my waist. We sat there until her tears finally stopped flowing. 

Then she looked up at me with her bright eyes, hugged me and then dug her face into my lap once again. 

We were nearly inseparable for the next week and a half. The nuns told me it was difficult to get her out of the crib, so her and I began to go for walks around the room. When she was well enough to handle it, we would play. When she was too overwhelmed to play, she would again lay in my lap and cry until she was ready. 

That last week with her was amazing. Each moment felt like a second and an eternity. As our time came to a close, I mourned all of the time we had lost. I thought about how much more we could have done if I would have come to her sooner. 

My fear kept me from connecting. My fear stole the moments that could have been. 

While this was an extreme example, I realize I do this all of the time. I keep relationships at arms length because I am afraid of being a disappointment, I silence my dreams because I am afraid they will not come to fruition, I stay too long because I am afraid of who I will be when I leave. How often do I let fear win? How often do I wait far too long to follow a calling because it seems out of reach? 

Fear has stolen too much from me. So now I will protect these moments. With a padlock of bravery and openness, I will keep fear out of these decisions of the heart. 

Dear Mercedes,

I have dreamt of working with Mother Teresa's Missionaries of Charity in Kolkata since I was an 8 year old girl. Seeing this dream fulfilled makes me think of who I was then, before trauma and confusion entered my life. Also recognizing who I am now, and why that trauma was so valuable in the end. In honor of this, I wanted to write a letter to 8 year old Mercedes. 

Dear Mercedes, 

You are such a beautiful soul. It was only a year ago when you had the dream that became your calling. I know you spend the days thinking about different ways you can help others. Don't ever let that go. Your love for others is what will carry you through the most difficult parts of life. 

Keep learning with an open mind. The world is vast and you have so much to see, never let the opportunities for growth pass you by. You will find that the directions you least expected to be fruitful are the ones that will define you. 

Let yourself feel the full spectrum of emotions, even the ones that don't come naturally to you. I know anger, fear, and jealousy are uncomfortable for you. But you need those emotions to stay alive. When you close yourself off to your own feelings, you become numb. I can assure you numbness is the greatest pain. 

Never believe them when they say you are broken or defective. Your life is not a mistake or an afterthought, it's an expression of Love. The cracks you acquire are where the Light comes out, treat them with tenderness and respect. Resist the urge to cover them up and pretend they never happened. 

Always help others with a smile. At the moment you realize you're no longer smiling, step back and take the time to help yourself. You are a force to be reckoned with when you are healthy and whole, but your sickness has the potential to destroy yourself and others if you leave it unchecked. 

Thank you for being who you are- you have taught me how to love myself. 

Sincerely,

Mercy (age 23) 

P.S. You will have the curly hair you dreamt of one day. 

Clean the Sacred Spaces

Being in Kolkata has been a whirlwind of emotions. I am not only fulfilling a lifelong dream, but also coming at a time of critical discoveries in my life. I am coming to terms with what the next season holds. Coming to terms with the little girl who dreamt of Mother Teresa all those years ago, learning that she held the future all along. I walk around with joy on my face and a lump in my throat, constantly overwhelmed with paradoxical emotions. 

When those emotions become to much, I go to Mother Teresa's tomb. I cry and I pray and I learn. Her tomb is the ultimate sacred space, simultaneously exposing and healing wounds. 

Today as a few of us left mass a nun asked if we would come help her clean out the room where the tomb is. She closed the door and we began- sweeping the floors, cleaning the windows, wiping down the tomb. 

In that moment it became painfully clear to me what the next season will be- it will be a time of cleaning the sacred spaces. Doing work that is not in slums or crowds, but behind closed doors. A time to stop producing and creating, but instead gently finding order among chaos. It will be lowly, dirty and difficult- but through it all things will be made new. 

Three Crying Babies

Right now I am working with Mother Teresa's Missionaries of Charity in Kolkata. In the afternoons I am in a home for severely handicapped children who are orphans. 

These children are the epitome of beauty and authenticity. They have no concept of hiding emotions or living anywhere but the present. When I hold them and smile they smile back with all of the joy their bodies can contain. Some of them can't contain it in their bodies, and they begin to shake and shriek in excitement of the moment. 

But then I have to walk away, to change another diaper or feed another child. That's when they begin to grieve. Once again they are overcome with the emotion of the present. Those who can't move weep, those who can't cry convulse. 

I spend these hours trying to balance bringing love with the pain they inevitably feel when I walk away. 

On one of those afternoons I was struggling to balance two baby boys. Each of them would cry if I put them down and calm down once they were held. I spent some time trying to go back and forth from holding one to the other. Until I finally managed to cradle one in my left arm and the other in my right. As soon as I had soothed them both, another child in front of me began to cry. 

It took everything in me to contain my tears until I made it home. Because in this moment something I have held all my life was made clear. 

I have always felt like I was made to sit in suffering, share the burden, and alleviate it with love. But there is so much suffering in this world that I cannot hold one thing without letting another go. I want a cause to give my life to, yet I am drawn to all of the causes. I feel it all so deeply that I can't manage to hold on to any one thing. I get caught in this cycle of pouring myself out until I am so empty that I have nothing left to give.... 

So what do I do? 

Sometimes I get angry at God, I curse the universe for exposing me to suffering that I feel so deeply but cannot resolve. 

Sometimes I get angry at others, I resent them for being able to choose apathy when I am being torn apart with empathy. 

Sometimes I get angry at myself, I lie and tell myself there's no point in carrying on if I can't carry it all. 

But being here in the presence of Mother Teresa's work I am realizing that there must be another option. I think I've been drawn to her all my life because this is the lesson I must learn time and time again- that all we can do is be love and be present. The beauty of Mother Teresa's life was that she always focused on the small things, on the one person in front of her. When she sat with a leper, she gave all of her energy to that leper in that moment. She did the same with the Pope, with children, with the dying, with her sisters. Whether she was in places of joy or suffering, prestige or lowliness, honor or humility- she was always there fully. She didn't resent others or herself for being what they were. She didn't agonize over which struggle was hers to engage with. Instead she simply sat so fully in the presence of God and others that eventually she became a mirror reflecting Christ back to each person she sat with. 

Maybe I don't have to learn how to hold three babies at once. Maybe I can hold one child with all the love I have to give, and for that moment that will be enough. 

Belonging To A Tribe

Right now I'm in the Northeastern mountains of India. We are staying with tribal people called Rongmei. We climb through mountains to meet families and churches, we eat with our hands and follow other customs. Honestly it's the cliche "missionary experience" I always imagined as a child. And it's wonderful. The culture is full of rich and historic meaning, everywhere you turn there is new beauty in both the people and the landscapes. 

Hearing their stories and living their way of life has me thinking a lot about belonging and tribes. I hear a lot of authors and speakers from the States talk about "finding your tribe" or "belonging to a tribe". This beautiful practice of doing life with people who can understand where you've come from and where you're going, people you're safe with. 

I see so much power behind this. Standing alongside brothers and sisters, looking back at all you have overcome and learning through generations. Being with people where you have a sense of belonging and purpose, mantras and chants and ways of living. So many great movements begin with a tribe saying they collectively choose to live a better way. 

But with that I also see the danger of tribal thinking. I see how some are excluded because they don't follow the tribes way of doing or seeing things. I see how tribes become echo chambers in which we all become pleased with the uniformity of our war cries. 

It seems like tribal culture can give life to those who have lived under oppression, it is a foothold to reach up and find your worth as collective souls. But when that same tribe becomes those in in power rather than the oppressed, tribalism becomes a weapon of destruction. 

I'm not talking specifically about this tribe in India, I'm talking about humanity. Throughout history, so many religions, nations, and people groups have moved from belonging to each other in times of oppression to using their collective power to oppress others. Look at America-- what once was a tribe of misfits seeking new opportunity and justice is now seen around the world as a war-hungry nation of greed and ignorance. Or Christianity-- what began as followers of radical inclusion and love without limits is now seen as people with picket signs and megaphones excluding those of various gender/sexual identities and ethnic backgrounds. 

As I reflect on belonging and finding a place in the world, I'm asking myself- Do I want to belong to a tribe? And if so, what tribe? Emergent Christianity? Monasticism? Missionary life? Secular humanism and science? I love all of these things, yet claiming any one as my home tribe feels like a rejection of the others. 

Spiritual leaders I love speak about being able to "transcend and include". How do we transcend the exclusion of tribalism while including the richness of shared histories and sense of belonging? 

I don't have a grand eloquent closing for this post, so I leave you all with a paraphrased passage of Advent that I've been contemplating recently- 

Isaiah 2:1-5

It shall come to pass that the mountain of God will be established above all mountains and hills, and all nations shall flow to it. 

Many peoples shall come and say, "Come, let us go to the mountain of God. Let us learn God's ways and walk God's paths." 

For out of Zion shall go forth the law and the Word from Jerusalem. 

Disputes among many nations shall be settled. 

And they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore. 

O house of Jacob, come let us walk in the light of the Lord. 

May those of us from all tribes trade our weapons of war for tools of new life.