Communion

I'm compelled to reach out, but I don't know what to say.

I had a troubling afternoon. I faced something in my work today that is just a bit beyond me: my experience, my knowledge, even my skills I rely on to help bring about understanding. I have to confess that often when this has happened in the past, I've found a way move on, rather than face my inadequacy. (I find blaming something or someone else quite useful). But I kept trying today.

I didn't get very far, and I have to try again another day because I am on a deadline. I have to uphold my responsibility.

I'm afraid that this will happen again. That I won't be able to accomplish what needs to be done. I'm worried that my old friend "procrastination" will kick in and my anxiety will be given a chance to bloom with the extra time. I don't like the unknown-ness of that day and my ability to produce. Oh, in saner moments I know all will be well, but sanity doesn't really have a chance in the face of my fear.

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There a saying that goes "God only gives us what we can handle." I think that's a crock. Really? God gives me what I can handle?

It seems to me that we get more than we can handle on a regular basis, sometimes it's far more and sometimes it just teeters beyond our limit.

Last night, after I had a full and productive day at work, picked my son up, made dinner, and tried to have a nice conversation with my husband, I erupted because the constant drum of activity throughout my day finally crescendo-ed as my husband teased me. AHHHHHH! (I wish my yelling had been that benign). That little, loving, annoying jab pushed me right over the edge.

And then there are those awful circumstances that are far more than we can handle...I shudder to utter them. We know. We've born witness to women faced with what couldn't possibly be fair or just. Sometimes we are those women.

No. We cannot handle what comes our way more often than not. We think we do. We cope through constant worry, detailed planning, controlling who and whatever we can or conversely avoid, blame, procrastinate, and run away. And we become tired, frustrated, angry. Tied up in knots or disconnected from people and life. But by golly we managed it, didn't we?

To what end?

There are learning theories in education which define learning as a transformative process. In other words, we are not the same once we've engaged in the learning process.

When I "handle" what comes my way, am I transformed? Or am I constipated?

I just put my son to bed, and I sang to him a song that begins:
"Day by day, and with each passing moment, strength I find to meet my trials here."

"Here." I'm experiencing Communion.

A mysterious, strengthening, graceful power enters my life when I am open and when I share my life and myself with others.

That sounds trite, I think. But then again, how can I convey the mystery of connection and fellowship, especially with other women?

Or with the God of my understanding?

Communion is intimate. It is mutual. There is a baring of souls and a bearing of one another. Something transcendent occurs. We are more than our circumstances.

But we are empowered to live within them. And to live through them.

And we learn. We grow. We are ALIVE.


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So I am not alone and I am not limited to my own resources as I face my responsibilities at work this week. Hope refreshes my despondent heart, my spirit renewed.

We come from varying spiritual traditions, I'm sure. But I "stumbled" upon these words tonight as I sought something deeper and stronger than myself to face my life. They may ring true or metaphorical to you, but I offer them as a reminder to myself that the buck doesn't have to stop with me.

I cry aloud to the Lord
I lift up my voice to the Lord for mercy
I pour out my complaint before him;
before him I tell my trouble.

When my spirit grows faint within me,
it is you who know my way.


May the resources for our communion be made known to us each time we face more than we can handle. Thanks for being mine tonight.