Self-compassion grounds us
This weekend, Abbot emeritus Francis Benedict of St. Andrew’s Abbey in Valyermo, breathed his last breath here on earth. For my years through seminary and into the early years of my ministry, Francis was my beloved spiritual director and friend. This Sabbath Moment is for him.
In my early clergy years, let’s just say that I was wound a wee bit tight, moving fast, making things happen. You know, working on that long list we carried; what we hoped—no, planned—to accomplish.
I lived in Southern California and my friend from seminary, Paul Ford, introduced me to St. Andrew’s Abbey in Valyermo, a Benedictine monastery and retreat center in the high desert.
It became my “go-to” sanctuary for renewal, where I would spend three days a month on retreat. But, let’s just say, unplugging and renewal takes some rewiring.
On my first visit, I meet my spiritual director. At lunch we talked, and I told him I would be there for three days, on a “Sabbath Retreat”.
And then, outlined my plans. (You know, you can get a lot done in three days. I had sermons to write, editing on a book, and of course, books to read… I smile still remembering it all.)
We spoke again right after Vespers. And he asked, “How’s your Sabbath Retreat going?”
“I think I failed my Sabbath,” I told him.
He laughed and laughed. A laugh I gratefully carry with me to this day. And it is what spiritual directors are good for, to remind us not to take ourselves too seriously.
“How did you fail?” he asked.
And I told him that after lunch I went back to my room and laid down, for “just a minute”, and the next thing I knew, it was five p.m.
He laughed, and said, “I’m so glad you slept. You rested. You needed that. And while you slept, you’ll be glad to know you were held in the arms of God’s love.”
My Oh My. We’ve missed the point if we don’t see that unplugging and refueling is a laboratory for forgiveness, which begins with self-forgiveness. An invitation to befriend our scattered and wounded self.
Yes. Grace, indeed, is WD40 for the soul.
And the permission to let go of the strange measurements we lug around for self-worth. Here’s the bottom line: When I lose sight of who I am (or where I am grounded), I forget to be here now. The gift of enough in the sacrament of the present. As long as I’m preoccupied with apprehension of where I need to arrive, I’m unable to pause, or care, or give, or weep, or mourn, or heal, or contribute, or laugh, or savor.
And this heartfelt story comes to mind. Glenn Adsit and his family spent years as missionaries in China. During the Communist regime change, they were under house arrest. One day a few Chinese soldiers came to their house, and said, “You can return to America.”
The Adsit’s were celebrating, when the soldiers told them, “You can take only two hundred pounds with you.” Well, they had been in China for years. Two hundred pounds? They found the scales and started the family arguments. Each—wife, husband and the two children—had an opinion. Must have this vase. Well, this is my new typewriter. What about my books? What about my collection? And they weighed everything, took each item off the scales, weighed and re-weighed until finally, right on the dot, they had two hundred pounds.
The soldier asked, “Ready to go?” “Yes.”
“Did you weigh everything?” “Yes.”
“You weighed the kids?” “No, we didn’t.”
“Weigh the kids.”
And in a moment, the special vase, the new typewriter, the collections, all of it, became “trash.”
Secondary. Just stuff.
Using this story to nurse regret is a waste of time. But the story (and its permission to hit the pause button), invites me to hear the crucial question for me (and for us) today: “Did you weigh the kids?”
Which begs the question: How do we measure—to carry and honor—what really matters?
We begin here: Our wellbeing—befriending our scattered and wounded self—is not about our reactions to life, but about choices we make from the inside out. About where we tether our identity and worth.
And this I know: it cannot be in stuff that we buy, collect, store or carry. Or, in the “stuff” of productivity and accomplishments. Or, in the “stuff” we clutch in the lines on our resume.
For this I am grateful: Fr. Francis encouraged me to know that it helps to ask, and to honor, the right questions. This week, we’ll be making space to do just that.
You see, as long as success is measured by keeping score (weighing or honoring the wrong stuff), we lose track of our well-being that comes from the inside—the self-compassion that makes us human and therefore, glad to be alive.
As I often say, this isn’t an assignment or a strategy.
We forget (in the words of John O’Donohue), “To have a reverence always for the immensity that is inside of you. The wild flow of energy in the well of the soul. It is impossible to stop the well of energy and the well of light and the well of life that is inside of you. You might calm it and quell it, but it will still rise up within you.”
You are a child of God, and it wouldn’t hurt to cut yourself some slack.
Self-compassion grounds us.
And, with this gift, there is healing in beauty. Now we see the sacred in the ordinary of our everyday.
“We teach children how to measure, how to weigh,” Rabbi Abraham Heschel reminds us. “We fail to teach them how to revere, how to sense wonder and awe. The sense of the sublime, the sign of the inward greatness of the human soul and something which is potentially given to all men, is now a rare gift.”
And this is important: self-compassion doesn’t ask for closure or resolution. This grounds me. Allows me to be present savoring beauty (the sacred in the ordinary), and not distracted. To spill what I have. To share and not cling. To live from a light heart and spirit even in a what feels like a dark and heavy world.
My garden here in Port Ludlow is smaller, but still with wonderful treats, including a cherry tomato plant, offering a dozen fresh ripe treats tonight for the supper salad. But the first one, from vine straight to my mouth.
And Rest in Peace, Fr. Francis. And thank you.
Quotes for your week…
Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable–if anything is excellent or praiseworthy–think about such things. The Book of Philippians
Notes: The Adsit story is adapted from Fred Craddock’s book Craddock Stories.
BULLETIN BOARD
Today’s Photo Credit: “Terry, The glory of God in the everyday! California sunrise this morning was hidden by a cloud layer then a break in the clouds and the glorious sun breaking through.” Rose Wyeth… Thank you Rose… And thank you to all, I love your photos… please keep sending them… send to terryhershey.com
Yes, your gift makes a difference… Donation = Love…
Help make Sabbath Moment possible. I write SM because I want to live with a soft heart; to create a place for sanctuary, empathy, inclusion, compassion and kindness… a space where we are refueled to make a difference. SM remains free.
(NEW address by check: PO Box 65336, Port Ludlow, WA 98365)
NEW Audio SM… Enjoy — The light we can spill
Join us every Wednesday… Audio Sabbath Moment
Letters that do my heart good…
–Dear Terry, I cannot thank you for enough for your daily reflections. I look forward to them Tuesday through Friday and they stay with me all day. May the grace of God and the blessings of the Holy Spirit be with you every day in every way. Roselene
–Good morning Terry, I just love starting my mornings, right after meditation and prayer with your Daily Sabbath. Thank you for your uplifting and contemplative reflections! We eagerly await our lotus blossoms to bless our patio garden each summer. Their luminous center is a great reminder of our inner Light. Blessings of love and light, Colleen, Roanoke VA
–Hi Terry, I guess I’m not subscribed on the emails. I read your posts daily on Facebook and share a good number of them. Thank you for all the positive messages. Kaye
–Terry Your words are such a balm to my heart. What a kind, loving heart you have. Thank you for sharing it (your heart) with all of us. What a precious gift Abba has given us in and through you. With much love and gratitude to you and the Lord. Be blessed. Betty
–Terry… thank you for the permission to trust sufficiency, embrace wounds, and heal. Indeed, I can do this-because Grace is alive and well. I really needed to hear this; I’ll be carrying it with me all day. Your words are such a gift, and I’m extra grateful for them today. Deb
POEMS AND PRAYERS
Giving Thanks
For the expanding grandeur of creation, worlds known and unknown, galaxies beyond galaxies, filling us with awe and challenging our imaginations:
We give thanks this day.
For this fragile planet earth, its times and tides, its sunsets and seasons:
We give thanks this day.
For the joy of human life, its wonders and surprises, its hopes and achievements:
We give thanks this day.
For our human community, our common past and future hope, our oneness transcending all separation, our capacity to work for peace and justice in the midst of hostility and oppression:
We give thanks this day.
For high hopes and noble causes, for faith without fanaticism, for understanding of views not shared:
We give thanks this day.
For all who have labored and suffered for a fairer world, who have lived so that others might live in dignity and freedom:
We give thanks this day.
For human liberty and sacred rites; for opportunities to change and grow, to affirm and choose:
We give thanks this day.
We pray that we may live not by our fears but by our hopes, not by our words but by our deeds.
We give thanks this day.
O. Eugene Pickett
