the whole is greater

“A miracle is when the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. A miracle is when one plus one equals a thousand.” - buechner

as usual, i had a revelation at yoga.

i was thinking about the process of learning 'the parts'. i was thinking about the year i spent doing yoga in atlanta and all the time i spent getting into poses- learning the alignment- slowly adjusting- understanding- remembering and wondering if this was it.  i mean it was great and i felt healthy and processed and aware- but i wondered if it would ever get all put together.  like the karate kid learning to hang up his coat or sand the floor.  he learned the same repetitive motions - did them again and again- and that trained him so when it came time to fight- his body knew what to do.  all the parts were in place- it came together in a beautiful whole.

this is how yoga feels now. it comes together.  it flows.  all those positions that i didn't even know the name of seem to mesh together into a good 90 minute work out and peace of mind.

so much of life is like this- 'part' learning.  math, spelling, reading- i'm doing it with each of my kids right now.  they get so frustrated- "why do i have to learn that?"  it seems like busy work because they are not yet able to see down the line to the synthesis of the parts.  or they want to know the whole thing- how to say the word right away "uprooted" they don't want to put together "up" "root" "ed".

this is probably a micro-version of all our lives.  we see through the glass dimly.  each event or drama or season is just a part and in isolation those parts might not make any sense- but then sometimes we'll have a revelation. sometimes we'll see a shadow of the whole - the fitting together of the pieces and parts- those moments are beautiful. like the seconds when we see a flash of the divine- a glimmering of God- a moment of His undeniable presence.  and it's in those moments when we know there is more.  something bigger.  a whole to all our parts. a peek at the miracles in life.

so i was thankful for these moments today. the stretching into synthesis.  a little reminder that the whole is greater - that the parts are worth it- even when they are hard and painful.  when the fog clears there is something spectacular.

sifting

today i awoke to the alarm clock and had no idea where i was for about 30 seconds.  looking around in the dark, i couldn't find any clues.  then i caught the early light between the curtains, the blue of their fabric and i was oriented.  i must have been in a very deep sleep.  it's amazing to me how the body needs to shut down to heal.  all systems need to rest- no extra energy to be expended- let the body do it's thing- let the mind do nothing- lie down, sleep it out. i'm so very thankful to be feeling better.  and that i have other people in my life to keep things going- namely mike and florence. blessings i know many don't have.

today is a day of reflection and wondering.

“The time is ripe for looking back over the day, the week, the year, and trying to figure out where we have come from and where we are going to, for sifting through the things we have done and the things we have left undone for a clue to who we are and who, for better or worse, we are becoming. But again and again we avoid the long thoughts….We cling to the present out of wariness of the past. And why not, after all? We get confused. We need such escape as we can find. But there is a deeper need yet, I think, and that is the need—not all the time, surely, but from time to time—to enter that still room within us all where the past lives on as a part of the present, where the dead are alive again, where we are most alive ourselves to turnings and to where our journeys have brought us. The name of the room is Remember—the room where with patience, with charity, with quietness of heart, we remember consciously to remember the lives we have lived.”
― Frederick Buechner, A Room Called Remember: Uncollected Pieces

as i knew would happen when i started at Reach Out, i feel both the desire and the need to be there more than two mornings a week.  i'm looking back and sifting through what is done and what's been left undone.  i wrestle with what God's will is for me, for zoe, for our family.  for the past two and a half years, it has seemed clear that i needed to be home with zoe- teaching her- going through that process- experiencing it- learning from it- growing in it. that has been my journey, our journey and it has been good and right- often hard- but affirming.  i did it to meet a need.  but now i'm seeing a different need and wondering what my response to that need will be.

i know it's an evolution- that in time it will become clear- that right now two mornings is enough. that climbing into that room, creating that space, sifting the past, with patience and charity and a quiet heart, will reveal what's to be next.  i love that word 'charity'. provision of help, generosity towards, forgiveness.  that is how we need to sort and sift our lives, our pasts, with charity.  we are so good at doing it critically- but there is a need for gentleness and kindness, perhaps it is there where we will discover ourselves most.

here is the world

today is my last tuesday to gallivant around town.

i woke up this morning and didn't feel like coming in to kampala after dropping the boys.  i thought about returning to mukono, back to the beautiful campus, but then i remembered that i'll be at home with zoe for the next 2 days and will be mildly stir crazy,  and i remembered that next week i start work at Reach Out clinic and will soon be craving some time alone- craving reflection.

life in kampala, at least the places i go, seems very expat-y.  very muzungu.  the coffee shop is filled half with ugandans and half with expats.  the market and the "mall" are the same.  banana boat- is all muzungu.  but getting to kampala, watching all the thousands of people walking and riding to and from town, is fully ugandan.  so the drive is much more real and much more interesting.  i love to read the matatus (as i've shared before) and attempt to translate the luganda writing some of them have on the back.  and i love the women in heels in the mud, and i love the random tee-shirts people wear.  today my favorites were:  a woman in ' i (heart) china'  and a man in ' got DSL?'

but i'm craving seeing patients again.  craving doing what i came here to do. i'm ready to stop gallivanting and be thrown in and use what i've been trained to do. i'm ready to struggle to understand luganda in real time and to understand the concrete needs and think about the best way to help meet the need.  i'm ready to live in some different 'needs of the day' and to have my feet take me back to the other parts of me. i'm ready to begin to see and feel the world- this world- here.

i've been reading buechner and thinking about these things- about need, God, our places in the world, our connectedness.  last night after the kids were in bed, we sat and discussed theology by candlelight, mike and i, his parents and our friend/visitor.  we talked about the differences in liturgy and church doctrine and the place/ role of priests versus parishioners in confession and the definition of 'the church' and the relationship between community and the individual and God.   

theology: "the systematic and rational study of religion and its influences and of the nature of religious truths" (wikipedia)

it was a good conversation, we shared, i learned some things from some very wise people.  but, i don't like talking about 'theology'.  looking around at creation and the world, i'm sure God is very systematic and things are rational, but there has been very little system, order or rationality in my experience of God.  my life has been full of beautiful messes- flowers blooming out of cracked pavement- experiencing the divine in the darkness of a hospital basement with my infant son swallowed in an MRI machine.  my experience of God has been his showing up where i wouldn't expect, his joining in the ugly of my life, finding his answer to a prayer very well disguised in a gay antique dealer, or a formerly homeless poet veteran.   so talking about theology is like watching the previews or only eating the salad.  i want the feature, the meat- the life changing realness that comes from following God in the disorder, because it's not rational, because it often bucks the system.  i crave the sharing of these things, and less an orderly discussion of which is better the 'smells and bells' or the 'Gad, we just...' forms of worship.  because really, i just don't think God cares.  He loves us whether we go to him through a priest or on our knees in the shower out of pure desperation. and for that,  i am so thankful.

my african tea is gone.  the coffee shop is half full.  the people here are all shapes and shades and languages- all made, all loved, all full of needs, all with feet taking them to the different places that they are. here is the world.

“Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don't be afraid.”
(buechner)