Sacred Mystery

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Around 3:00 am this morning, I was awake and alert, having tossed and turned for hours, wishing for daybreak. I was also fasted and prepared for medical tests. But before I tell you about this day’s fasting, I need to reach back and call up some of my memories of other times. 
While wide awake in bed, I thought about some of the fasting times I have experienced, each a singular blessing making way for sacred space.

Fasting was a part of my early childhood. Being a Greek Orthodox child with a religiously devout Yiayia (grandmother), I learned early in life about fasting. Even though I was only 8-years old, Yiayia adamantly believed I was old enough to memorize prayers from the liturgy and recite them — in Greek. And a part of her plan was designed to prepare me for Holy Communion. I must give her some good-grandmothing credit — she did have a fasting experience for me that was age-appropriate, meaning it was not as long a fasting time as the adults observed and certainly not as stringent. No meat, of course, but some laxity on dairy and liquids because I was always an orange juice child that needed to drink a lot. 

Yiayia accommodated my need for plenty of juice and chocolate milk. Still, I thought I might starve before my fast was over and I received the wine and, finally, the little square of communion bread that I scarfed down. I am pretty certain, though, that I did not fully embrace this sacred mystery of prayer, fasting and the sacrament of Holy Communion. 

Years passed and young adult fasting times came in times of deep angst. There were troubled times when the only hope I thought I had came through prayer and fasting. Looking back on that time, I realize that I experienced just a glimpse of the meaning behind a fast. More awareness and appreciation of the sacred mystery would come much later in life. 

Maturity and age created in me a seeking spirit that longed for deep meaning. I remember so vividly my time of fasting for my profession of vows before entering the novitiate of the Order of Ecumenical Franciscans. The occasion happened in the desert of Albuquerque, New Mexico, quite an appropriate setting for my introduction to a contemplative life. Dry, expansive desert and big skies that went on forever captured my imagination. It occurred to me at the time that I was experiencing just a tiny glimmer of desert spirituality. This fast in the desert was really the first time I immersed myself fully in the sacred mystery of fasting. 

Now back to this day while waiting for daybreak after a night of tossing and worrying. This fasting morning was not religious at all, but necessary for information the kidney doctors needed from the 30 vials of blood The Mayo Clinic phlebotomist retrieved from my flimsy vein. 

But come to think of it, today’s fasting may be the most sacred of all because it leads to the mystery and science of a kidney transplant. When a donor comes forward willing to give a gift of life from his or her own body, that feels very much like sacred mystery. 

God orchestrated the entire experience. And by the way, God knows all about my tossing and turning in the wee hours of this morning. God understands my anxiety and fear. God understands the emotional place of anticipating a kidney transplant after five years of waiting.

I have always loved the imagery of this scripture verse written by the Psalmist. Today seems like a good day to ponder it.

You have kept count of my tossings;
put my tears in your bottle.
Are they not in your record?

— Psalm 56:8 (NRSV)

Tomorrow is the day. If all goes well, tomorrow I will get a new kidney. If for some medical reason, the transplant does not happen, I still know and understand the sacred mystery that God keeps count of my tossings and saves my tears in a bottle. And that’s enough for me.

 

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On another note, please pray for me as I look toward my kidney transplant tomorrow at Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville, Florida. I am so grateful that you are walking with me on this journey that often felt so frightening. Your thoughts and prayers mean so much. If you would like to rea the story of my illness, please visit the Georgia Transplant Foundation’s website at this link:

://client.gatransplant.org/goto/KathyMFindley

“Go Fund Me” page is set up for contributions to help with the enormous costs related to the transplant, including medications, housing costs for the month we have to stay near the transplant center, and other unforeseeable costs for my care following the transplant. If you can, please be a part of my transplant journey by making a contribution at this link

https://bit.ly/33KXZOj

 

A Balm for Hurting Souls

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On this Monday, prayer seems difficult to me. It feels as if I need it so much, yet cannot seem to connect with the holy. I need a quiet place, a place of peace and serenity. I need a personal retreat that enables me to touch all that is anxious within me. I need a place that can help me reach into the palpable anxiety just below the surface. I need a place that calls forth my tears so that, without fear, I can let them fall. I need a place that helps me to get to that lump in my throat that lingers with me. At my retreat, I need a person with spiritual insight and wisdom to gently guide me to my emotional and spiritual place of longing.

For many reasons, this kind of retreat is not possible right now, so I carry on. That’s what most of us have to do day in and day out, struggling to touch the holy and falling short of that. And then, on occasion, we are graced with a touch, a word of hope, a friend who understands, a prayer that reaches the heart. Today, I received that prayer from Anne Fraley. It is “a balm for hurting souls,” a word of hope. I hope it lifts your spirit as it has lifted mine.

Blessed One,

who colors our days with the glow of fireflies and the roar of the ocean,

carry us this day on the breath of your love.

Invite us into the nooks and crannies of delight,

where dreams are born and disappointments released.

Tend the bumps we suffer at the hands of the careless and the words of the thoughtless, and soothe the rough patches we inflict on others.

May our prayers resonate with the needs of the world, and our hearts connect to those who hunger for companionship.

May our song bear the imprint of all who seek you, and our chorus be as balm for hurting souls.

In all things, help us to weave the thread of love and light through the worlds in which we move, and raise our voices with joy to proclaim your name.

Amen

 

Anne Fraley is rector of St. Peter’s Episcopal Church in South Windsor, CT. A life-long dog-lover, she escapes the demands of parish life volunteering for animal rescue groups. She occasionally succeeds at reviving her blog at reverent irreverence. Her prayer today is published at https://revgalblogpals.org/2019/06/24/monday-prayer-214/

 

 

The Peace of God

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Anxiety overrules contentment. In fact, anxiety can easily have its way in our lives, making a shambles of all that we have accomplished. We humans spend a great deal of time building our comfortable nests, making life a positive experience.

I am expending my energy on my flower garden. It’s filled with ferns and flowers that give me positive energy. I can breathe deeply in my garden, exhaling all the cares and toils that come my way. I am happy in my garden, and it is a place of solitude and peace.

Anxiety can wreck it for me, so I do all that I can to hold anxiety at bay. There are several things that make me anxious, including my health and the possibility of a kidney transplant. But anxiety adds nothing good to my life. Instead, I work hard to fill my spirit with peacefulness. It is the peace of God that guards my heart and mind.

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Philippians 4:6-7 NIV