Gracias, Henri Nouwen

I didn't make it past the first page of the introduction without bursting into tears.  I didn't expect that.  I thought I would skim right through Gracias: A Latin American Journal-- and sure, I would be appreciative of Nouwen's incredible insight, but it wouldn't rock my socks off.  You see, I read Gracias almost five years ago, during my first summer in Mexico City on the Global Urban Trek.  My roommate and I shared a bed provided by our host family, and we shared this book as well, passing it back and forth, chapter by chapter, pushing through dusty days of struggling in Spanish.  So it's possible I could have missed something that first time.  =)  Further, I found new resonance as Nouwen writes lovingly of Lima, Peru and his months spent there.

THAT, I think, is what yanked at my heart on page "ix".  A cry escaped me as I read:

"It was there that I discovered for the first time that those who are marginalized by our society carry within them a great treasure for the church.  It was in Lima that I learned that without prayer and community all my pastoral activities would end up in fruitless burnout."

Nouwen jumped right in and named this tension I've felt for years-- loving Latin America deeply, identifying the wealth it offers us in faith, hope, love, and knowledge, and yet failing to find our call in that place.

"... my desire to live and work with the poor in Latin America was not matched with a concrete call... I also started to see that niether God nor God's people was asking me to make Bolivia, Peru, Guatemala, or Nicaragua my permanent home.  My experiences there, exciting and rewarding as they were, never led me to that deep inner 'imperative' that forms the center of a true call."

Exactly!  People often ask me, when they learn I've spent 3 summers in Mexico City, if I want to work there long-term.  Of course I do!  But each time I go, my little ears perked and swiveling for hints, I see that no, there are Mexicans/ Peruvians/ others to do this work.  That's what brings me back to the land where I have an imperative. 

"I so much wish I could be with my friends again and share whatever comfort and consolation I have to offer.  But I know that I must stay where I am called to be and suffer my feelings of powerlessness in solidarity with them.  More than ever I have to be faithful to those who have been given to me and trust that my little faithfulness will bear fruit, even when I don't know how or when.  More than ever I have to claim the spiritual truth that the poor of the world-- whether in Peru, or Toronto, or wherever we may be-- are given to the church so that the church may be revitalized and so the fire of love that Jesus brought will remain ablaze in our world.
      More than ever I have to believe in Jesus, whose short life, few words, and limited actions were boundless in their radiance because of his radical obedience to God.  More than ever I have to rely on the prayer of the heart that allows me to embrace people of all times and all places even when my life will be short and my travels few.  More than ever I have to be free to love with a love that is simple, direct, and open to anyone at any time, in the unshakeable conviction that such love can cast out all fear and overcome all the powers of destruction and death."

Mixed Media

I know, I haven't posted art stuff for far too long!  (Implied confession: I haven't been adequately exercising that part of the brain and spirit.)  I was thinking about it (yeah, in which time I could have drawn SOMETHING!), and began to consider all the other, practical ways I find artistic expression.  For example:

     rearranging furniture in my room, hanging pictures, filling wallspace...

  modelling my ministry role...

       

          cutting my hair...  (all by myself for the first time today!!!  yay!)

   cooking pretty food...

                                  making home-made cards and envelopes to send...

So not all art goes in a box... or a frame.  I have to say that living with other artsily-inclined individuals definitely helps the creative juices.  I'll promise you - and myself - something more traditionally art-ful.... next week.

To the Limit

In setting out a schedule and goals for myself today, I was thinking about an observation from a CRM colleague in South Africa.  He pointed out that most Westerners operate in a crazy breakneck cycle of solid work followed by a solid escape, break(down?) or vacation. 

There's no point in my wasting even a second pretending that I haven't done precisely that on MULTIPLE occasions.  So I started wondering why?  The first thing that came to mind was a pride in knowing my limits-- just how much I can take-- and a twisted, determined frugality that doesn't want to waste that capacity.  I do the same daredevil stunt with my car's gas tank.  (Yes, daredevil in my life involves some gasoline in a hose and a debit card.)  I like to get the tank as empty as possible before I stop to refuel.  Not at a half- or quarter-tank, but plumb empty.  And after 8 years with my Corolla, I know pretty well when that is.  Stopping earlier is somehow a capitulation, a confession of weakness and uncertainty.

With my life and with my car, I calculate according to an endpoint-- a limit.  Sure, I can do 4 days with less sleep.  I can handle a nonstop schedule for a week, right?  I can keep offering to help out-- as long as I haven't hit my end yet. 

But I have a feeling that abundant life is not found at the edge of a stranded breakdown.  So I'm looking for a rhythm of frequent refueling, and I'm lifting my gaze from that bottom line.  For surely, surely, satisfaction stems from things more profound than making it to the red E.