At home in my own skin
A great Rabbi died. He had been revered and loved by his congregation. After his death, it was decided that the Rabbi’s son, himself a Rabbi, would take his father’s place.
This pleased the congregation, for the son would be “just like his father.” But after some time, there was surprise and grumbling. The son gave himself fully, heart and soul, to the synagogue, and began to make changes that displeased some of the people.
“You are not at all like your father,” they told him, obviously disappointed.
“Oh, but I am,” he replied. “For my father was one of a kind. He imitated no one. Neither do I.”
One of a kind.
You are able to give your self—heart and soul—when you lovingly accept the humanity entrusted to you.
What an invitation; the gift to be at home in my own skin. Whole and undivided.
It is good to be back in Washington state. But I confess, I do miss the Camino. (Although, it is okay if I don’t carry my backpack for a wee spell.) But I do heartily carry memories, visuals and aha moments with me, throughout each day.
And the best gift, the most healing gift of the pilgrimage for me was (is) the permission to be at home, in this skin. Not the together Terry, or the Terry who has arrived. The Terry who can be seeking and discovering, and accepting and embracing this Terry, yes, even the in parts, broken Terry.
This is an invitation fueled by the liberating expansion of grace.
In a book I am reading, I smiled at this sentence, “she was reclaiming herself, alive in her own skin.” Yes, that’s it. Unabashed in a skin (a self) that feels, values, honors, esteems, loves, fears, desires, hopes for, believes in and commits to. With nothing to earn or prove, because life isn’t a race or a contest or a beauty pageant.
And please know this: it is from this self—the broken or wounded self—that compassion and kindness and tenderness and empathy and healing and reconciliation can flow to the world around us.
We spill light from those places in our life.
Here’s the deal: “The plain fact is that the planet does not need more successful people. But it does desperately need more peacemakers, healers, restorers, storytellers, and lovers of every kind.” David Orr
Today, I enjoyed listening to the lyrics from an Over the Rhine song,
“All my favorite people are broken
Believe me, my heart should know
Some prayers are better left unspoken
I just want to hold you and let the rest go
All my friends are part saint and part sinner
We lean on each other, try to rise above
We are not afraid to admit we are all still beginners
We are all late bloomers when it comes to love”
This is why I have always resonated with the Gospel story of the Good Samaritan. A man is laying in a ditch, having been beaten and left to die. Two pious men pass by, a priest and a Levite, seeing the man, but they continue to walk, without stopping.
The Samaritan stops. Why? Because he knew what it was like to be wounded too.
“He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him.” (Gospel of Luke)
You see, once we are open…
…to giving up our expectations and demands,
…to having our stereotypes contradicted,
…to embracing our brokenness,
…we find “There is a light in this world, a healing spirit more powerful than any darkness we may encounter.” (Mother Teresa)
When we see with our heart, we are grounded. We are conscious—present—no longer numbed. And tender hearts create sanctuaries for those left out. So, if ever there was a time for tender hearted, courageous men and women to step forward, it is now.
I like Thomas Merton’s take, “Our job is to love others without stopping to inquire whether or not they are worthy. That is not our business and, in fact, it is nobody’s business. What we are asked to do is to love.”
Jesus made it simple, “Let your light shine.”
Not, when you get your act together.
Not, when you feel noble.
Not, when you find a specific vocation.
Not, after you’ve chased all the gloom away.
Just let it shine. Because the light is already there. Inside of you. Now.
So. What does it mean to embrace (to lovingly accept) this new beauty?
On the days when public opinion or an internal gremlin pesters, I keep this Parker Palmer quote close by. “It is a strange gift, this birthright gift of self. Discovering vocation does not mean scrambling toward some prize just beyond my reach but accepting the treasure of true self I already possess. Vocation does not come from a voice ‘out there’ calling me to become something I am not. It comes from a voice ‘in here’ calling me to be the person I was born to be, fulfill the original selfhood given me at birth by God.”
In my heart I know that vocation is not just my job or calling, but the mark I leave and the place I take in this world.
True, living into this authentic self is neither easy nor managed by a checklist. But this much is certain: living into our authentic self begins with a whole heart.
And at home, I have a self to give and light to spill; to be an anchor, a listening ear, a hand to hold, a hug to keep the heart alive.
On this Second Advent Sunday, we light the candle of Peace (sometimes called the Bethlehem Candle), which symbolizes peace and preparation, reflecting Mary and Joseph’s journey to Bethlehem and the peace that Christ’s birth brings. And yes, buoyed by peace on a journey filled with uncertainty.
Driving home from SeaTac airport on my first day back in the US, Mt. Rainier stunningly consumes the skyline and horizon. Majestic, yes. And magical, as clouds halo the mountain top. And I learned something. These halo looking clouds are call Lenticular clouds (Altocumulus Standing Lenticular). They form when stable, fast-moving air is forced to rise over a barrier, like a mountain range, and creates standing waves in the atmosphere. So, let’s call them halos, born in atmospheric uncertainty.
I write this on my 70th birthday. Round number birthdays, the kind that make you pause and give thanks and reassess. All while savoring a really good red wine, sitting by the fireplace, enjoying the Christmas tree lights while serenaded by Sarah McLachlan singing Silent Night.
Quote for our week… “It means a gradual process of coming home to where we belong and listening there to the voice, which desires our attention. Home is the place where that first love dwells and speaks gently to us.” Henri Nouwen
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Today’s Photo Credit: Mt. Rainier crowned by halo looking clouds. They are called Lenticular clouds (Altocumulus Standing Lenticular)… Thank you to all, I love your photos… please keep sending them… send to terryhershey.com
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Letters that do my heart good…
–To experience the Camino has to be one of great joy for you. Once accomplished, you don’t throw it away and say, “What’s next?” This is a time to savor the experience, think about what it means to you, how what you have learned to be rolled into your life. My advice, keep that journey always in your thoughts. Build from it. It is not something that asks the question, “What’s next?” Ray
–Happiest of Birthdays to you and what a special date… the Feast of the Blessed Mother. I know she watches over you in a special way. She and her Son are thrilled that you have shared your Camino with us, sharing your thoughts, your lighting of candles and prayers, touching the ancient walls, all helped us tag along with you in spirit. I pray you will hold all your memories (even your sore feet and blisters). God always has a plan. His was to give you the strength and grace to complete your Camino. You had your own special reasons but you didn’t hesitate to remember
that “We are all walking each other home” God bless and keep you on your 70th Birthday and always, Elaine
–Terry, I’m so delighted to read this and follow in your footsteps as an observer. And as I mentioned in my last email, only a week ago we were in Santiago square on a tour. And to be pleasantly surprised to welcome those entering this destination in that particular hour was pure joy. Blessings to you as I’m sure you embraced each divine moment within your eyes and heart. Donna
–¡Ay, Terry, fenomenal! What memories that photo brings! I walked the “French” Camino in stages from 2005 – 2012 and loved every minute, even the exhausted ones. I studied in Santiago de Compostela 2 summers and fell in love with it and Galicia from the first moment I walked to the “casco viejo” (old town) and heard Celtic pipes and flutes. Oh, my! I hope all continues well for you. Hug the Saint (James) for me! Bendiciones, Patty
–Blessings, dear Terry, for your 70th birthday this Sunday, the second of Advent and the Feast of the Immaculate Conception of Our Blessed Mother, Mary! It was great to travel with you in spirit as you walked the Camino in Portugal! What a gift to all your readers who you inspire every day as we ‘walk one another home!’ Celebrate all your blessings! I will remember you at Mass on Sunday at Mary, Star of the Sea Church, Simpson Bay, Saint Maarten, where I am vacationing. Lots of walks along the beach here! Carol
–Welcome to the 70’s! Now the fun really starts! Travel safe and thanks for all your insights and stories. Sabbath moments fill my day because you helped me see them. Denise
