Handmaiden

Here at L'Abri Canada, we eat most of our meals family style--eight to ten family members around a heavy-laden table. Lunch time is especially dedicated to discussion of questions regarding life and faith. A few days ago we were talking about what the essential qualities of a Christian are, and what distinguishes a Christian from the next person. We didn't satisfactorily answer the question; however, it inadvertantly touched on another question of mine. So I believe that the work of Jesus Christ enables (maybe even effectuates) a human being to live in right relationship to God, to self, to other humans and the world. My question is something like: what the hell is right relationship with God? In a way that has not happened for a long time, I was struck by the truth that standing in right relation to God begins with submitting to God as, well, God, and not competing for that position myself. In some ways this is a no brainer if one is spending any time reading the Bible, but the full weight of that statement, especially in contrast to some of my attitudes recently, sunk deeply into my heart.

Wrestling

What do I do with seemingly oppositional longings? I long for stability and sustainability as well as adventure and variety. Maybe those don't sound like desires that would cause tension, but when I live them out, it feels like the commitment required for one contradicts the flexibility needed for the other. It's like the eternity of longing confronts the reality of finititude and the I'm still spinning from the collateral damage. Ok, so I'm using hyperbole to paint a picture. There's a gritting discomfort with this though. Then again, there are moments of such deep, exploding pleasure that fill me with hope even though they end. And so I can't make them last for ever? That would be too overwhelming. So enough brooding and back to living. Ciao!

I really am at L'Abri

I know the last two posts were about California, but they were catching up from earlier this month. Today we had a day off from our work-study (heavily laced with mucha comida) routine. The four other girls and I went into town for hot chocolate at the Artisan Square Chocolatier's. Que rico! Then Maggie, Laura and I pulled up our hoods and stepped off to the "garden." It was actually a gravel trail, lined with cedars and pines and covered with giant maple (? I don't know, but we're in Canada) leaves. The leaves were so big!! I scuffed my feet to kick them up, but the rain weighted them and they stuck in slippery clumps. When we got to the salmon ladder, there were slippery glacier-scarred rocks, and little elven pools with maple-leaf boats. Through the mist we could see Horseshoe Bay and some unknown mountain. As water dripped off my nose, Maggie sang about "Paddlin' Madeline" and Laura snapped her fingers in time.

Once Again

I got to see my friends from school in LA at the beginning of this month. Wow! There was such a sense of homecoming. In Jerrica and Tarrah's bedroom, as I laid on the floor, it was almost like being transported back to the HOG--the bunk beds were even the same. Julie's home with themes of red (my favorite!) felt like a sanctuary, and I finally got to see her classroom! The only difference as I shared a bottle of wine with John was that I wasn't breaking contract, but the kinship was unchanged. Josh's Element still had its new car smell, and planning logistics for three-person multi-pitch climbs was still as complicated as I remembered. I couldn't see everyone and kicked myself for not having forethought to get south sooner. But even so, I could hardly take in the weight of all these friendships and found it incredibly hard to fly out (well, it was 4am when I left Whittier).

Here are some pics of those people--Sorry Tarrah, I forgot to get the camera out in the middle of my excitement to see everyone.

Growing Up a Little

Before coming up to Canada, I made a quick trip down to SoCal and Yosemite. As much as I love climbing, whenever I lead trad, I "sketch out." That is, my mouth gets dry and sticky (is that possible?). My heart races. My palms sweat. My stomach tightens. My legs sometimes shake like Elvis'. It's not really fun for me, and truth be told, I'm not very good at it. However, in order for me to climb however and wherever I want, I have to do this. I close my eyes, try to breathe deeply, check over my gear one last time and move above the protection I've placed. Sometimes I slip and flail desperately for a hold. Sometimes I end up without the particular piece I want. Sometimes I make clumsy anchors. But little by little I'm getting better. While I'm not making any brilliant strides, I think that I'm learning and practicing safe, responsible climbing. After I set an anchor or rappel off, I'm usually glad I led the route. Overcoming fear, I feel like a biggie girl.

I think this is important

So there's an essay that's been churning in my heart and mind since our last passage through Canada. (By the way, I am back in Canada at L'Abri). I have to credit Brennan Manning with much of the core of these musings. He wrote of contemplation, describing it as looking at someone/something with love. As that swirled around my heart, it touched so many places--both painful and sweet. I felt the ache of loneliness reflecting on times when those closest to me could not or did not see me. The wonder of being fully (as fully as possible) seen and gently cared for as something cherished flowered over the ache. And then it was partly blemished by the times when someone has known me and exploited that understanding, leaving me feeling used.

What do I mean when I talk about being seen? We are each so complex, that I don't know that we can ever truly, completely know one another, but I think we can learn to receive each moment with another in a way without anticipating or projecting so that the other can be as whole as possible. This means that we hide less from each other and don't shrink back from anything we behold in another. Even when what I might see is distasteful, it isn't rejected or scorned but accepted as part of the whole. It may not be a pleasant part, but if it is truly present, then it cannot be denied. Furthermore, in order to see another, we must allow each person to define herself or himself instead of putting her or him in a box labeled with a few key characteristics. Boxes are neater, but they prevent us from ever seeing more than a label and if I create a box, then I am the one who controls the identity of what's inside the box (at least in my own box-filled world)

Arghh! This is so abstract and hard for me to explain. . .maybe that's why I've put of writing. I know! Let me tell you a story of while Holly and I were baxkpacking. During the trip, we enjoyed incredible scenery, laughed at our unlikely adventures. I noticed that I spoke really critically at times, not all the time, but sometimes it slipped out like I was this perfect backpacker and we needed to have a perfect trip, and in order for that to happen I had to keep everyone in line. This of course was followed by self-loathing and regret. I apologized to Holly, and we continued on our way, but I was discouraged by what I saw of myself. A few nights later, as we began our "debriefing," Holly said something to the effect of, "I really like you, Katy." Really?? Even after you saw all that yuckiness? "Yeah, I am so glad to be on this trip with you."

There was this huge expansion in my heart. On this trip, with more intensity than everyday life, we have seen so much of each other--good and bad. And in her way, Holly did not censor or discredit what she saw, but received it all as part of me. Part of living this journey together has been cheering for each other, rejoicing in who the other is and even hoping for more for the other. The undercurrent of contentment with each other even in the truth of who we really are washed over me with grace that I sometimes cannot live towards myself. As it came from Holly and, I believe, originates with God, it seeps deeply into my soul, infusing me with courage to live who I am fully. This is the power of being seen and being cared for.