BREATHE :: Five-Minute Friday
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BREATHE
Has the word ever held more meaning?
In mid-September Brian and I took a four-day retreat to study and pray - an intentional time set aside to breathe, if you will, between the end of summer and beginning of a new ministry season. We've learned the hard way that this transition between summer and fall is particularly tricky. This year, the need felt wonky. After six months of living this bizarre "together but apart-ness" with our community it felt a bit strange to have to add further isolation by getting away to another place.
The solitude of the little kitschy cottage on one of New York's glorious Finger Lakes felt simultaneously welcoming and oppressive. We walked around a lot, looking at the water, trying to settle into the study projects we'd each brought along. The waves were too choppy to spend prolonged time on the boat. The weather snapped from summer to fall within twelve hours of our arrival and we took to walking along the shore with giant fluffy blankets cocooning our heads.
Like the weather swinging between summer and autumn, we ricocheted off each other - basking in each other's presence one moment and storming out of the cabin in hot tears the next.
One of those times, I sat in a camp chair huddled under the tattered hood of my favorite cold-weather sweatshirt flicking away streams of tears. Another camp guest sat about twelve-feet away and tried to catch my gaze. I offered a disguised friendly Good Morning and pulled my hood further over my face. At that moment I could only feel the weight of the past twelve months (18, really, for our family) and began to cry so hard I could hardly breathe.
Later, my husband did the same. I looked out our cabin window and saw his 6-foot-four-inch frame standing at the water's edge, buried underneath a grey fleece blanket twice his size. I couldn't see his face but his posture bent under the blanket gave him away.
As part of our intentions for the retreat, we began a 17-week guided practice of the Ignatian Exercises. One of the optional activities our study recommends is to sit under a blanket for extended periods of time and imagine the comfort and warmth as a symbol of God's love toward us. We'd expected to feel a bit silly, but without those blankets - his giant and grey, mine respectable and gingham fleece - I'm not sure we'd have survived the retreat. One night, after we'd fought and tried to escape each other while sort of stranded in this tiny cottage with the wind whipping the waves outside, we forgave each other. We slept that cold night in added layers - me under my favorite old sweatshirt. Both us huddled underneath Brian's blanket. The one that we were trying to imagine as a physical representation of God's love. It was big enough for both of us.
Each morning our guide to the Ignatian Exercises recommended we spend at least five minutes just breathing. We might open our hands on our lap, or turn them downward, depending on our need to receive or let go of whatever might be constricting our airways. I spent most of the time with my hands turned downward. There was a lot to let go.
Across the room, all I could hear was Brian in his own rhythm of inhaling and exhaling. I huddled under my gingham blanket of love, listened to him and the wind outside, and practiced my own breath a little bit longer.
Welcome back to the new weekly feature, Five-Minute Friday. For the remaining weeks of Ordinary Time, I'll be sharing a five-minute written reflection on one word I've been pondering. (I'm literally setting a stopwatch for five minutes so that I can just write already!)
Thanks for being a listening community and a safe place to offer stories from my everyday experiences and epiphanies. I'm grateful for your companionship.
I'd love to hear your reflections from this week. Feel free to respond to the word "BREATHE" or just share your own experiences and epiphanies from the week.
*This post is part of the weekly Five Minute Friday link-up! You can read all the Five-Minute Friday posts here.