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Being Benedictine

Living SoulFully as an Oblate of St. Benedict

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spirituality

The Final Threshold: Take This Body Home

Day by day remind yourself that you are going to die.
Hour by hour keep careful watch over all you do,
aware that God’s gaze is upon you, wherever you may be.

Rule of St. Benedict 4:47-49

One of the gifts of a pilgrimage is those you connect with on the journey—greeting each other in the morning, offering small kindnesses, enjoying meals together, appreciating the sacredness of the sights, and sharing insights. On a recent Celtic Christianity pilgrimage to Ireland and Scotland, I knew only one person, my friend, SoulCollage® companion, and travel roommate, Sara, who I met several years ago at St. Benedict Center as a Benedictine Oblate.

Sara and I had decided to begin our pilgrimage four days earlier at the Cliffs of Moher, in the west of Ireland, and then travel by train to Dublin to catch up with the group once they arrived. Many pilgrims knew each other beforehand, so introductions in Zoom meetings and social media proved to be a helpful head-start to our shared time. Just a few days into our pilgrimage, I shared breakfast with one of the pilgrims, Mike, at a two-person table.

We ordered porridge and discussed the lengthy lines for fancy coffee from the European espresso machines, hoping for just a quick pot of black coffee. I was clearly more irritable about getting my first cup when Mike commented that he recently started taking a spiritual approach, a detachment from coffee, he said. If he gets coffee in the morning, all the better, but not getting coffee would not be a deal-breaker for his day. He would not allow the absence of coffee to interfere with his interior peace.

As I calmed down about the lack of morning caffeine, our conversation continued to a depth not often reached in such a short time. We shared that through the years our spirituality had changed, impacting how we experience life, especially how we respond viscerally as we witness racism, homophobia, injustice, and hateful behavior in our country. We shared our deepest grief about the estrangements in our family and the uncertainty of how healing might come.

Navigating long lines and crowds in the breakfast area, we finally achieved the goal of a cup of coffee.  Mike commented that people were not even looking at each other while getting food and drink. He was right. Mike’s comments remained in my heart throughout the day and I am grateful to have had such a meaningful conversation with him.

The gift of a pilgrimage “lies in the gaps of the agenda, in the conversations and relationships with others, and in the details of the day that cannot be planned or controlled. This is where the grace of God enters—sometimes it is in the form of discomfort and challenges and other times in opportunities that new insights and “aha moments” of new understanding bring.” (A Busload of Hospitality: A Benedictine Pilgrimage, Part 4, Jodi Blazek Gehr)

Continue reading “The Final Threshold: Take This Body Home”

The Wonder of a Broken Arm

WONDER sees the everyday as sacred.

Living with a sense of wonder, my word for 2023, is my intention. Being open to surprises, having a sense of curiosity, and having the desire to learn is important to my spiritual practice of “being Benedictine.” Wonder sees the sacred in the ordinary and is a doorway to gratitude, but seeing with eyes of wonder is a much easier proposition when our daily life is comfortable. My sense of comfort was recently challenged.

On a cold, windy February morning, my little dog Bailey did not want to do her business outside. Fourteen degrees in Nebraska, who can blame her? Worried about potentially icy roads and getting myself to school in time, I hurriedly picked up my little dog and headed out to accompany her on a potty trip. After stepping down onto our (apparently icy) landing, my feet slipped out from underneath me. It happened so fast yet every second my body met the icy ground, pain pierced through me–first on my bottom, then as I slid to my left side hitting my elbow sharply. I felt several crunches on my arm as I continued sliding on the pavement finally stopping several feet away. 

I knew immediately I had broken my arm, and later it was confirmed–a fractured ulna and a chipped elbow. The entire event was captured on our doorbell video. I watched it only one time to see if it was as I had remembered. Seeing myself fall has ruined me forever from watching America’s Funniest Home Videos again. Falls that used to crack me up (no pun intended) seem not so funny anymore. 

Wonder is the doorway to gratitude.

Making meaning out of life’s experiences and practicing gratitude is foundational to my spirituality, but much of my broken arm experience (7 weeks to date) has been spent feeling like I am not being very Benedictine. I am grateful for much, but I have also been so tired, irritable, and moody. It has been more traumatic for my body, mind, and spirit than I could have imagined. 

Despite my general crabbiness, I know my injury could have been worse–for that I am grateful. Thank God I hadn’t hit my head and been knocked unconscious. I am grateful that it was my left arm that was broken, and not my dominant right. After a week of wearing a splint, I was grateful to learn that the fractured pieces of my ulna had, amazingly, stayed in alignment. I would not need surgery and instead of needing a cast, I would wear a brace that I could easily remove to shower. A welcome reprieve from the confinement of a splint, there would be enough space to wiggle a pencil through to scratch my arm. (More things to be grateful for at the end of this post.)

Gratitude is an emotion that reflects our deep appreciation for what we value, what brings meaning to our lives, and what makes us feel connected to ourselves and others.

Atlas of the Heart, Brene Brown

I thought my attitude of gratitude would carry me through the weeks of convalescence in front of me, but I underestimated the many conflicting emotions I would have–frustration, overwhelm, disappointment, empathy, compassion, and wonder, just to mention a few. Out of 87 identified emotions (and experiences or thoughts that can lead to emotions) in Atlas of the Heart by Brene Brown, I have felt no less than 40 of them since I fell. 

Early on I had decided I would be a resilient, strong, and compliant patient. I would remain calm in the face of discomfort or pain, knowing “this too shall pass.” Spoiler alert: I have grown weary, increasingly frustrated, and borderline hysterical from the discomfort and/or pain. Betty the brace–named after my strong, steady, prayerful oblate friend, Betty–has been called many other names besides Betty (Betty, the friend, took no offense.) 

Continue reading “The Wonder of a Broken Arm”

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