Descansos

Tonight I did something strange.

A few months ago I listened to a book called, "Women Who Run with the Wolves" by Clarissa Pinkola Estes. Toward the end of the book, she introduces the idea of "Descansos." 

Descansos is the practice of marking a place where someone's journey in life had been halted. Often these crosses mark a place a person has died. Descansos, however, need not be limited to physical death, but can also mark places where we experienced a closed door, the end of a journey, or any type of loss. Estes says, "Descansos is where you take a look at your life and you see where the small deaths and the big deaths have been and you mark them with a cross." She says that regardless of what kind of trauma/loss a person has experienced, "something has to happen to recognize it, to bless it, to contain it and to leave it." We must physically do something to acknowledge the pain/death so that we can move past the pain/death.

Descansos are "resting places for the parts of you that were on their way to somewhere but never arrived. They mark the death site. They're markers of your dark time, but they're also love notes to your suffering."

Descansos are transformative.

The month of July has been a month of grieving. I've given myself space to be angry, frustrated, disappointed, sad, discouraged, hurt - and every emotion in between. I'm no where near recovered, but I've participated with the Spirit in deep, soul-work as I've dug in the soil of my garden and am slowly experiencing more peace. Today, as I was praying, God reminded me that today is the last day of July - tomorrow the calendar is flipped. 

I read "Women Who Run with the Wolves" back in April and have since been considering parts of my spirit that never grieved from the last church I left and are hurting with grief once again in my most recent departure. I remember I had two weeks of "rest" (a.k.a. chaos and detachment!) between my last two jobs - certainly no time to grieve or process anything. 

Something about the changing of the calendar and witnesses the setting sun illuminated in the clouds, hope was sparked in my heart and I thought, "Perhaps this is the evening to practice Descansos." 

I drove out to Shaw & McCall and placed my descansos - marking my journey that was abruptly halted. I sat in the weeds watching the sunset considering how different my life is today than it was five-and-a-half years ago. The bits of hurt and loss that still linger, I left on the side of the road, on my descansos.

Then I drove across town to Fresno & Bullard to place my second descansos - recognizing my time there: blessing it, containing it, and then leaving it, along with the many emotions I have been carrying. 

As I prepare for sleep tonight, I already feel lighter.

Perhaps acknowledging our pain releases our souls from captivity.

I pray that my anger, frustration, sadness, and grief will stay pinned to the cross at the places I left it. I imagine those grief waves, and other emotional currents, will overtake me here-and-there. But I pray that by God's grace, lovingkindness, and compassion (which are new every morning) I can close this chapter and begin walking into a new month guided and strengthened by the Spirit.

May God continue to make all things new bringing healing and wholeness to each of us.

Adrift ~ How is it with your soul?

*** Written July 11, 2023 ***

In Retreat 1, Session 3 of Transforming Community Ruth Haley Barton taught on the question, "How is it with your soul?"

The minute she asked the question, technically, the minute I read the title for the session, I rolled my eyes. This particular question has been asked of me nearly every month over the past two years to which I had successfully brushed it aside.

Looking back, I believe the person asking the question meant well, but I also think he was ill equip with both resources and time to listen to my honest answer. Perhaps that's why I avoided the question and did not answer, knowing deep down that my soul was not well, but also knowing he did not have the time and energy to know how to help. If I answered the question honestly, would I receive the care and support I needed or would I be marked as a used-good; a soul sucked dry from attending to too many needs of others and being on-the-run for too long? Instead of being honest, I kept my lips sealed and continued to love and serve the people in my care, despite the state of my inner-soul.

Over the last few quiet weeks, I've come back to this question and been pondering why I chose to not be forthright in my response to the question.

Was it because my deep-seeded message "I am not enough" overwhelmed me to the point I was afraid to admit my brokenness and find confirmation that I am "not enough?" Perhaps.

Was it because I didn't want to exude any sign of weakness? Perhaps. I've worked in church-circles in which pastors and staff treat one another like ravenous sharks. Any sign of blood in the water and they become savage and rip apart the one who is bleeding. I learned to show no weakness - no tears, no emotion, no humanity.

Those reasons alone are legitimate enough to not answer the question truthfully. But the more I've sat with my wondering, the more I've decided my hesitation went even deeper. 

If I answered the question honestly, I might be asked to leave. 

Rejection. There it was. 

Strangely enough, I currently feel very much adrift in the ocean, cut off from community. Since my community did not accurately know the deadening of my soul, they threw a party and sent me away to "whatever is next." Instead of walking with me, I feel like my church community put me out on a dingy, and sent me off alone to find my own healing and "rest." 

Feels a bit like rejection - loving rejection. 

They did not know I have not the strength to row nor the stamina to make it to shore.

They did not know the state of my soul was more weary than even I had imagined.

So...I drift...being at the mercy of the waves and the storms on the horizon.

I am certain they would be saddened to know this is how I am feeling. 

But for now, I continue to drift, seeking connection with the One who loves me beyond what I can do or what I can give. I am tired of going through the motions and pretending like all is well. I am disappointed with churches who do not attend to the well-being of their pastors and staff. I am sad for the many, many pastors who have gone before me and did not have adequate care in place to help her/him through this season to reconnect with their First Love, find refreshment and new-life for their souls in Christ, and establish healthy rhythms of spiritual practices, rest, and community. I'm disheartened for the many current pastors and staff who are weary, feel deprived-in-soul, and who are on the brink of throwing in the towel. We need to do better! We need to know how to guide our shepherds and care for those who care for us. Might I have received this kind of care had I been honest, I will never know. Drifting alone is now my life. The good news is I cannot run or be busy - just be still, be quiet, and move just enough to not let the boat tip. 

In Ruth's lecture, she includes specific questions to reflect upon and help assess the state of our soul. These questions give more handles on the ambiguous question, 'how is it with your soul?' and provides concrete ways to measure the state of our soul. Perhaps if the general question had been fleshed out with follow-up questions and examples I may have had an easier time talking this through.

I am grateful to be attending the Transforming Community, giving me resources, care, and support in my journey of soulful recovery. I am reading, listening, reflecting, and though I know this time of quiet and solitude is necessary, I can't help feeling like I am missing a limb - my community. I know this season is what I need for my own healing, but I still miss feeling like I have people who are "my people." My blog-writing and cups of coffee with friends will have to do for now.

As my floating continues and I gently follow the current to where the Spirit is guiding, I am a mix of sadness and anticipation. Sadness at what has been lost, but anticipating what is yet to be found. Thankfully, God is a God who is at work to redeem and restore.

I know God is with me on my raft and I know, once again, the Church did not mean to hurt me. They just didn't know what was happening within me. Thankfully, God did and already had me enrolled in the Transforming Community to keep my raft from floating too far away.

May you be encouraged that you are not alone, no matter how lonely you feel. If you're like me and on a singular raft floating away from your ship or if you're on a larger ship surrounded by people yet still feeling alone, may you hear the words of the Spirit speaking to you that you are loved and you are seen. You are not alone.

"Where can I go from Your Spirit? Where can I flee from Your Presence? 

If I go up to the heavens, You are there;

if I make my bed in the depths, You are there.

If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea,

even there Your hand will guide me, Your right hand will hold me fast." 

Psalm 139: 7-10

Thanks be to God, 

    for God's constant Presence, 

        long-lasting lovingkindness, 

            and enduring faithfulness.

                Selah

                    My floating continues...