Back when the second string was still in the game, I was going to drive down with her as the second adult; I was going to drop them and head to my mother's house two hours away. When I was called off the bench and moved into the game, my mother did not take it well--to be fair she took it better than I thought she would, but she was incredibly disappointed. Because I was third string, I assumed I wouldn't be needed much during the weekend except to sleep there so to diffuse the emotional trauma, I suggested to Mama that she come over and we could see each other there. That was the plan until I looked at the schedule and heard the conversations in the Point of Arrival where I quickly deduced that was not going to be the case and I was going to have to call Mama and tell her I would have very little free time. Yep, the perfect storm was coming together from all directions--I was going to have an extremely disappointed mother; at home I had left a jet lagged tightly scheduled husband, my second son William home sick, eldest son Christopher on an overnight field trip with a tight turn around to a lacrosse tournament, youngest child Caroline (well she is her own perfect storm), and a missing dog, and I was feeling guilty, helpless and out of control. The storm was coming and I couldn't even have an emotional temper tantrum in the privacy of my own room because I had a room mate! As we left the Point of Arrival with me grumbling under my breath that I was too old to have a room mate I didn't know, I thought I left Cookie's comment behind; oh how wrong I was.
As I began getting settled into my room, the door opened and in walked "the room mate." We introduced ourselves and she said she was going to change. I noticed she had on a collar and told I her I too was a priest. "Actually," Kellie said, "I'm a transitional deacon." Immediately we began sharing our stories and it was eerie how similar they were. "Maybe this is the reason I'm here," I thought (clearly I hadn't let Cookie's comment go)..
Throughout the next few days I participated, listened, shared, and listened some more. By mid morning Friday, it was obvious to me that I was on high alert waiting for THE REASON. I kept waiting for there to be something that was extremely personal, that was meant for just me something to prove Cookie's comment right--that God wanted me there and that God was present with me there. As time went on it became more and more important to me to find it and the sense of urgency was mounting with each passing hour. Saturday afternoon as the adults sat in our session sharing camp themes--literally just throwing them out there, Emily said, "We did Daniel and the Lions Den." and then she went on to explain how they asked people to name their lions. THUNDER AND LIGHTNING--THIS WAS IT!!! Instantaneously I knew this was THE moment--this was why I was here. My mind began racing with all the ways I could use this theme not only with the youth but in a new group I was forming, Parents in Conversation. A group that has been weighing heavily on my mind. I wanted to jump up, run across the room, grab Emily's hands and do the happy dance singing,"Cookie was right, I found it; I found it; I was supposed to be here Yeah God!" I manged to contain myself--which I'm sure greatly relieves Emily. What I did do, however, was exhale. I had found it and now I could just enjoy the rest of the weekend--
Yesterday morning I woke early to get a final run on the beach. As I was running, as I often do, I talked to God. "Thank you," I said, "for helping me recognize the reason I was here--yeah lions." I have to admit I was so proud of myself a) for recognizing the "it" and b) for remembering to thank God. The problem is whenever I put a and b together I don't get c--and it dawned on me--really slapped me like a red headed step child--that while the lions may have been the big IT, there were so many other 'its' throughout the weekend. And so I rewound and thought and continued to think all the way home about how God was present with me and why I was 'supposed' to be there.
Every night at 11:00 pm, Kellie, the dreaded room mate, and I returned to our room and talked about the day--for the first 15 minutes. After that we talked about our vocations, our callings, our questions, our families, our jobs--well into the night. Lights out was supposed to be at 11:30, and while I am a type A rule follower, I believe God was in our rule breaking. I know I needed to hear Kellie and because of those hours I have found someone who has become a partner in ministry, a confidante,and a friend. I needed that, and God knew it.
Friday afternoon Cookie led a prayer where she asked us to give thanks for something. As we went around the circle I knew what I had to say, "Thank you that I have this opportunity to share a ministry weekend with my daughter and to see her leadership." In my heart I added, "And thank you God that she has such a strong faith and this community of faith." Part of my anxiety about being called in from the third string position was that I didn't want to crowd Sarah Katherine. This was her third year, and I felt like this was HER thing. She seemed to be respected and loved and I wanted her to have that without my overbearing personality pushing her aside. So I worked very hard to stay in the background--Province IV people are probably breathing a sigh of relief and thinking,"If that was the background, thank goodness SK was here!"
Friday evening I saw that University of Georgia admissions had been posted, so during a break SK and I sat on my bed (breaking yet another rule--only people who live in that living space are to be in that living space--breaking rules can be a little freeing and definitely exhilarating) and she looked it up. Sure enough, the first college acceptance was there. Now we could both exhale--I no longer have to listen to her say,"I'm never going to get in college." and she now knows she has at least one place--a place we all love. At the same time as my heart swelled with pride, I felt like I'd been sucker punched in the gut. It was real; she was leaving next year-- She called her daddy, tweeted her acceptance and ran off to be with her friends. Looking back what amazes me is that she didn't run off shouting to everyone she'd been accepted to college but rather to rejoin the group going on now--to be in the moment with the people there. This weekend was about these people and the ministry they had to do; she rarely (well at least outside of the family) tries to make things about her. Her humility inspires me. I, meanwhile, tried to ease my throbbing stomach pains by telling the world; I was completely convinced that if I faked it enough that I was thrilled she was accepted and could potentially be going to college 10 hours a way, I would believe it.
Part of staying in the background for me literally meant sitting at one of the back tables while SK sat up front; participating in the singing and energizers in the back while SK was up front; and definitely making very little eye contact; not correcting manners and only asking questions that had to be asked. Despite my best efforts, I still earned a few eye rolls. Saturday evening, I was sitting in the back listening to Diocesan reports as I needle pointed Christopher's belt. I saw SK approaching me; she reached down and moved my purse at my feet. I leaned in expecting her to need to tell me something. Instead, she sat at my feet, scooted back against me, and laid her head in my lap. No words were spoken but as I stroked her hair, I knew, this was a God moment--a comfort for me in the face of the reality of letting go, (perhaps for her as well) and we needed to be here together for it to happen.
Once again Saturday night Kellie and I stayed up until the wee hours discussing theology. (It really must have been a God thing because I was still able to make the 12 hour drive home in--11 hours-- and not fall asleep.) The next morning we went to breakfast and an assortment of other adults, clergy and lay leadership, randomly gathered at our table. We brought up our conversation from the night before. The 8 of us then discussed Eucharistic and sacramental theology. We came from different places; we used different lenses, and we acknowledged that. We acknowledged that we all struggled and were trying to understand each other. What was very clear in the conversation was that we all respected and loved each other. Most importantly what was indisputable was what united us--we loved God, we loved each other, we loved the youth, and we loved the Episcopal church. It was a life giving conversation for me; a chance to participate in a conversation with opposing views, and it felt holy. I needed that and God knew it.
As we were driving home, all these moments and more (like the connection that now exists between Patti, Beth and myself) enveloped me like a warm blanket. I was able to honor that Cookie was right; this year I was meant to be there. As I thought about that, I said a silent prayer for those going next year; I hoped at least one of my other three children would go, and to be honest I was a little sad. I would miss gathering with this group. At that very moment, Sarah Katherine, who I thought was sleeping, looked over at me and said, "You should go back next year. They liked you." Uncharacteristically for my children, she didn't mention that someone liked me with surprise in her voice. Then she added, "Amelia from Louisiana found me this morning to thank me for bringing you." I needed that too, for Amelia to say it and for SK to tell me; and God knew it.
Cookie was right--God knows who needs to be where even if it means bringing in the third string.
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| Cookie, me, and my girl |
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