Horses, Books, Bathing Suits, and Finding God

I drove into the driveway yesterday and exhaled as I always do

when arriving at the beach house. It's been a long year and a long, hectic, busy, fun and exhausting month. I needed this week, mostly alone, for so many reasons--they could probably all be combined together with the words, "to find myself again." And this was the place to do it--the place I love most in the world--the place I feel most at peace, most at home, most myself.

The year has been long, and somewhere during it I became unrecognizable to myself (and frankly to others who know me well). I let go of my spiritual practices; I became a sporadic exerciser; and I hadn't spent as much time in study as I want and need to (also which I vowed at ordination to do). I feel disorganized and out of control, so off to the beach I came for a week of spiritual rejuvenation and deliberate, planned study.

I slipped on my bathing suit getting ready to take Winnie for a walk after the long trip. I looked in the mirror not liking what I saw--I've gained 10 pounds this year. I'd like to say it's because I have hit the age of 50 and perhaps some of it is, but the truth that I know is it's because I have exercised less and eaten and drank more than I should. (see the above) I only brought one bathing suit--truthfully because I could only find one after scampering to remove my clothes from the boys drawers as they were coming home--and also because I don't like the way I look in them anyway.

I didn't like this one either.

I called Chris and told him I might go get another suit because I didn't like the way this felt. I'm sure he wanted to say, "Don't spend much." or even, "Is that really necessary?" but since he knows my history and since he knows where I am right now after a conversation we had just last week where he lovingly but firmly said, "You have to stop saying you're fat. Yes you're not as in as good of shape as usual, but you are not fat and it's not healthy for you to say it," he just said okay. As I talked to him I looked in the mirror again and thought, "He's right; I'm not fat." One part of my brain could say it, but the other reminds me I used to look in the mirror and think I looked fine when I didn't--more of that later.....

Winnie and I walked--with each step I felt more free. I thought about how this is the only home our children have known for their entire lives, and I began to scribe a letter to my daddy in my mind thanking him for making sure it remained in the family, thanking him for keeping this home which helped me to remember who I was and to regain myself year after year--a place where I felt confident and sure. (and I will write that letter)  I turned on Barbara Brown Taylor's book An Altar in the World and began listening as I do every summer--the comfort of routines like slapping the pier during a run ground my soul.

After our walk I sat on the beach and opened Laurie Brock's book Horses Speak of God and found my place. I have been asked to read this book and blog about it (a request that may have swelled my head just a bit). But I can't seem to get through it very quickly because it is packed with so much! In fact part of the reason I'm down here for study is because in her chapter Steadfastness she writes about the sin of stasis. She writes, "Never mind
that hearing, "Good job!" when our ease is begin affirmed allows us to stay in stasis," (p. 23) Those words convicted me and so I designed a week of studying leadership and Hebrew and Greek.


I read these words, "My default nature in life was one of apprehension and shrinking. Much of childhood and adolescence had been filled with al list of don'ts that reduced my self-confidence shred by shred." (p. 32) and "No matter how much we grow physically, our souls live eternally at all our ages at once. All the trauma, joy, and life of our younger years lives within our cells and memories. Growth physically doesn't mean we outgrow the heartache of our past. We may have more distance from what is within us or allow our present life to distract us, but the shadows of our past, especially those which cause us pain, do not disappear." (p. 34). Suddenly critical and hurtful words from my past began flooding my mind, some words which had been said on this very beach...

• "You'll never have a body that can wear a bikini"--and I didn't for years. Then when I finally did I was criticized for that
• "You are just big boned--not petite like us."
• "You shouldn't wear jeans they make your butt look big."--10 years ago I bought my first pair of jeans that I felt good in--so I bought 3 identical pairs
• "Don't spend too much on clothes. I know you've lost weight but you'll probably gain it back."--which is probably why I haven't bought a new bathing suit in 5 years
• "I know you think you're a size X but you're really not. They've changed the sizes from when I was your age."
• "Don't wear straight skirts or dresses; loose and baggy are better for your body shape"
• "Black is the best color to make you look slim"
• "I just don't understand why you parent that way."
• and the list went on....ending with this
• "you are not at all pastoral"

I put down the book furious--this was my place of refuge NOT the place these words were allowed to be, not a place where these words could come and continue to try to destroy more confidence. I closed my eyes and thought about this powerful chapter. Yes this place is a place of peace and calm, but to deny there were also times here that were hard and painful is to deny part of my existence. If I am to find myself again, I have to be willing to find all of myself--even the parts I would much prefer to leave buried somewhere in the depths of the dunes.

Brock continues, "All those disappointments, damaging experiences, wounds, and heartbreaks from our past that reach into our present yearn to be brought forth and, with time and awareness, transformed by God." (p. 35) This morning as I was running (and slapping the pier) I thought more

about Brock's words. I love this place; it will always be a place of refuge; it will always be a place of peace; but when I come here, all of myself comes--and sometimes the most broken parts of myself are closer to the surface than at other times and they might rear their ugly heads trying to invade and destroy me. But they can't. And I will no longer (or try to no longer) be afraid because as they come to the surface God does not destroy them but rather transforms them--Brock writes, "If we bring forth the fear within us, we will also find courage. We will also find God." (p. 39) 

I can't escape my past but it doesn't have to define me, and more importantly I don't have to "fix" it all right away--or alone. I have family, friends, a good therapist, God, and yes the beach house--a place of refuge.

And now I will sign off to study a little Greek...

Oh, and I did buy a new bathing suit last night....