Just
today an article my wife, Teresa, wrote was published in a local journal. With the publication lacking an on-line presence…I
wanted to share this piece with you. Enjoy the read...
Just
last week I was watering my indoor plants and inspecting a late summer
acquisition from the bargain rack of my local nursery. I cannot resist rescuing
these orphans and trying my hand at coaxing them back to life. "This one's
doing pretty well" I noted, spying a few new green leaves. “But what is
this bump on the leaf?” I thought, and saw with closer inspection that is was a
butterfly chrysalis. After scouring my resources, I discovered that it was the
chrysalis of the Cabbage White, a rather mundane denizen of agricultural fields
and also of my garden. It is even considered a pest since its caterpillar eats cabbage,
broccoli and related crops.
The
vision of this beautifully crafted space for incredible transformation
intrigued me. How did it get here? Why on this plant? Why would the Creator
take such exquisite care to make this small green case for what some would
consider a pest? These questions lead me to wonder about the many ways that God
makes waiting palpable, possible and even beautiful in the natural world. The
bleak winter landscape seems devoid of life and color yet contains buds and
possibility for all the new growth of spring. The intermediate stages of many
insects can be appreciated for their own beauty just as I had wondered about my
little green chrysalis once I noticed and named it.
It
seems possible, at times, that our spiritual life can have the same quality of
waiting and dormancy. There are periods
of dryness, complacency or non movement in our prayers and contemplations. We
can use the lessons from the natural world to learn how to be in what can be
the difficult liminal space of waiting. In the winter of my spiritual life can
I slow down to notice all that possibility? What
about noticing the possibility in my own heart?
Winter spirituality is a time of patience and being present with the
possible and perhaps rejoicing in the "not yet": those parts of my
deepest self that have not yet been brought to my awareness. My own spiritual
practices in the dormant wintertime are quieter and more contemplative. They may include journaling, or making a midwinter retreat, or taking winter walks crunching over frozen paths or even
walking a labyrinth in my backyard made from snow. Many of these practices can
engender a quiet and patient anticipation of what is next in store for our souls.
The
dark dormancy of midwinter outside can give us a unique context to understand
how to wait for those things in our lives that are not yet seen or perhaps even
imagined. Waiting is particularly hard for us as high speed internet and data
exchange happens at the speed of light.
Is there any point to waiting?? How can we wait?
Henri
Nouwen gives us great insight into the nature and holiness of waiting in his
work The Spirituality of Waiting. Nouwen invokes the stories of Zechariah,
Mary, Elizabeth and Simeon and the Prophetess Anna from Scripture to enlighten
us about the sanctity of waiting. These figures are all waiting for the coming
of the Christ into the world. We may
think that their vigils were passive, yet Nouwen tells us:
… There is none of this passivity in Scripture. Those
who are waiting are waiting very actively. They know that what they are waiting
for is growing from the ground on which they are standing. That’s the secret.
The secret of waiting is the faith that the seed has been planted, that
something has begun. Active waiting means to be present fully to the moment, in
the conviction that something is happening. A waiting person is a patient
person. The word “patience” means the willingness to stay where we are and live
the situation out to the full in the belief that something hidden there will
manifest itself to us. Impatient people are always expecting the real thing to
happen somewhere else and therefore want to go elsewhere. The moment is empty.
But patient people dare to stay where they are. Active waiting means to be
present fully to the moment; in the conviction that something is happening
where you are and that you want to be present to it.”
There
is consequently none of this passivity in nature either. Although we think of a caterpillar as
"sleeping” in its chrysalis, in actuality, incredible transformation is
occurring. The essential cells and DNA are first breaking down and then being
rearranged into a completely different creature. The insect goes from a
creature that crawls on the earth or on the leaves of plants to a winged beauty
that can take flight and astound the observer with its luminous colors. But to
the casual observer this is not apparent.
What
then is the clue that both Nouwen and nature give us about waiting? We are to stay present in this moment even
though it seems as if nothing is happening. We are to stay actively engaged in
what God is presenting to us and surrender to the quiet work of dormancy knowing
that it is far from a waste of time. Simeon in Luke’s Gospel knew this. The gospel writer says that, “He was waiting for the
consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him.” Praying in the Temple
daily, Simeon was ready for the Christ because he had been engaged in that holy
and hopeful waiting. He was ready to
recognize the Christ when he was presented to him.
As
seekers we can cultivate the same kind of readiness that the prophet exhibited
by being present to the quiet work of winter spirituality. In the winter when
the soil is frozen and unworkable I draw inside to the garden of my heart to
till. The journaling and retreats are the compost I add to the garden of my
soul.
Just
as I let my garden rest I realize that the dormancy is just as important as the
growing and fertilizing. So it is in my
spiritual winter that I can rest in the hope that God is working the soil of my
inner soul. In the fallow fields, the earth gathers the nutrients to bring
forth nourishment and beauty in the following spring. Can it be that what may seem as quiet waiting
is actually preparation for what is yet to come?
I
believe the Creator may have placed that chrysalis on my house plant to remind
me that as I wait for the butterfly, I should not miss the beauty of the
chrysalis-- the undone piece. Just as the Creator takes such exquisite care to
craft a vessel for the common butterfly's transformation to its adult stage so
God has created the indescribable beauty of the quiet winter landscape in order to facilitate our own deep
metamorphosis.
4 comments:
Beautiful, Teresa. Thank you.
Beautiful, Teresa. Thank you.
This is remarkably beautiful. Thank you, Teresa. And thank you Jim, for publishing Teresa's words here.
What my beloved Fran already wrote plus extra kudos and admiration for your lovely writing style. Deep, yet clear and inviting...just like you!
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