Goddeincidences

The prodigal Squiggy returned! On March 10^th!  I believe his Dad (Fred, my husband, who died on March 10^th) wanted me to celebrate on a day that I feared would bring up a lot of memories, thoughts, and emotions. And with this whole process of grief, I realize, I can celebrate and memorialize Fred’s life and his graduation date. Squiggy helped.

Side note: I never had kids – but Lord – you all who have raised teenagers need a lot of love. I freak out when my cat goes AWOL – I can’t imagine having to watch them drive solo for the first time or dropping them off at college. Prayers for you all!

My former spiritual director (she still is directing me, just from her place in heaven) used to call coincidences “Goddeincidences”, and that resonated with me. This week in breaking open A Different Kind of Fast and opening up to the request to fast from holding it all together and to embrace tenderness and vulnerability – it also resonated with me. This “lesson” in a different kind of fast was one of those “Goddeincidences”. I would say grief has been good for me. In breaking me open, it has allowed me to learn to let go of my ego and pride. Embracing grace, mercy, tenderness, and vulnerability have become a part of my life. A part that was deeply and profoundly absent before 2015.

When Christine Valters Painter wrote:

Western culture rewards us greatly for being able to pull ourselves together and carry on with life in the face of loss and sorrow. Speed, productivity, and the denial of difficult emotions are the hallmarks of our times.  In our rush to get things done, we armor ourselves even more. We build internal walls to help keep the grief from spilling over into our days.  We build external walls in our bodies that reflect this inner rigidity.

This was something I learned during a grief class I took. And I have thought a lot about the Jewish practice of sitting shiva and how amazing that gift is. To be fully present with someone in the upheaval of grief and to hold space for all that emotion without saying a word is a tremendous gift. And a blessing to the recipient. We don’t know what we want. We can’t articulate what we are feeling. Simply being present confirms we are not alone.

Until all of this happened, I had a Western approach to death and dying – denial. I have since come to realize that death isn’t an end. Each day we are all closer to our last day here on earth. Momento Mori. I think of how terrified I was of death and dying. I think of people I hurt because I didn’t follow up with, their cancer diagnoses and subsequent death, or didn’t attend a funeral because I couldn’t handle it.  Because their deaths were all about me?!  Again, ego comes before knowing – at least that was my experience.

Valters Painter went on to describe her Mom dying and her healing through the practice of Yin yoga.  I related to that. After my Dad (2014) and my Mom’s death (2016), I did my yoga teacher training as a way to help with my grief. Yoga has been one of the mainstays this past decade.  It has allowed me to be present in my body and has drawn me into meditation – both of which have helped in my healing.

I have been reading about somatic pain and somatic yoga for healing trauma. I am a proponent of the mind/body/spirit connection and that to achieve a balance, as best as humanly possible, we have to deal with our pain, in productive ways.  Healing, in whatever realm, is a process.

In taking time off, resigning from a lot of my busyness, and doing my best to be open, I realize I am processing and integrating this decade-long school of death, dying, and grief.  As a yoga teacher and practitioner, of course, my favorite part of any yoga class is shivasna.  The time of surrender, silence, and stillness at the end of practice allows for the integration of the mind, body, and spirit. It is profound and healing. It reminds me of what I feel in that quiet space of receiving Jesus and sitting in silence afterward.

This advanced degree in death and grief has changed me profoundly. I am open to my call to the priesthood, I am open to service, and I am open to show tenderness and vulnerability.  It has not been an easy road, but it has been so well worth it. As Carly Simon sang in Coming Around Again, “so don’t mind if I fall apart, there’s more room in a broken heart…and I do believe in love”.

Amen & Namaste