Meandering Through the Writings of Others as a Practice of Lament: Dangerous Territory

“Love Heart, Ambleside Landing” Artist Unknown

Here are today’s explorations:

Peterson, Amy Dangerous Territory. 2017

978 words

Watching them, I remember what I’d overheard in the campus bookstore that morning. *** They seemed like hey might have chosen to live overseas because they never quite fit in America. *** He tried baptizing new Congolese converts in a river filled with crocodiles. *** I could have explained that I was relived to be going to a ‘closed’ country, where evangelism was technically forbidden . . . *** I grew up reading missionary biographies. *** No one wrote biographies of housewives. *** I wanted an extraordinary life . . . *** I couldn’t see any way for a woman to have them except on the mission field . . . *** I don’t know if I even want to be married. *** We don’t know of any other foreigners in the city. *** Belonging *** He wore a plaid button-down in earth tones . . .  *** We each had too many edges that didn’t fit . . .  *** We do not ask what happened in a city when converts were rejected by their families. *** So far I’m failing to fit my own story into the mold. *** Grandma hadn’t been thrilled that I was moving oversees. *** We believe that leaving holds some answers. *** I had found a new frontier. This was the American dream. *** In a village we stayed in a house on stilts. *** I felt the wind in my hair and realized I was smiling. *** We were out the door early every day. *** This would be home base for changing the world . . .  *** Teaching . . .  turned out to be a delight. *** On my twenty-first birthday, I was alone in France . . . Then David a new friend I had made at Taize, joined me . . . *** Hairless cat *** It’s one of the only monastic communities that has monks who are Catholic, Protestant, and Orthodox. *** Four girls from one of my classes entered shyly. *** I made it my ambition to lead a quiet life . . . *** Research: the history of short term missions *** In a country where much is silently implied and understood, she was willing to be blunt. *** You don’t dress like Britney Spears at all! *** In this collectivist culture, you owed nothing to strangers but everything to your in group. *** It makes relationships more important than tasks or efficiency. *** In the country the laws existed only for people you did not know. *** Yet I attempted to suspend judgment, to live in a kind of liminal state where I observed, and learned rather than criticizing my host culture. *** Her failure to be the daughter her parents hoped for left the underside of her forearms with pale pink scars. *** We walked hand in hand up the hill, pausing when the girls in high heels were out of breath. *** Anne asked me to pray that she would find true love. *** I missed being known and truly seen. *** I felt my spiritual wells being sucked dry. *** I’d gotten to know her a bit better through her journal writings . . . she was a deep poet and thinker. *** She wasn’t oblivious to the despair that threatened to pull Veronica under since she failed the university entrance exam two years earlier . . . *** I hardly knew what to do with all the kindness they showered on me. *** I let her take it, warning her to be careful reading it in public. *** The Spirit was already at work there just like the stories I’d read . . . *** He folded his lanky body next to mine and pulled out a novel by Zadie Smith. *** I was feeling farther and farther away from my life in America. *** I’d not only compromised myself, but every other teacher I’d sent it to. *** They were effectively disrespecting me and another group failed to pay attention as I spoke. *** My despondency faded as the sun set. *** I hated making mistakes, especially public ones . . . *** Quotidian *** I never told her that she could pray a prayer and be assured of eternity. *** Imagine that you know nothing of the Christian faith . . . and someone tells you that the biggest holiday in her country commemorates this story. *** The karaoke machine gave me a score of 93 percent. *** In Swaziland Malla Moe was evangelist, church planter, preacher, and bishop. Back home she was not permitted to speak in church. *** Which culture is more democratic? *** Can she teach brown-skinned men but not whites . . . *** They seemed awed by the integrity, devotion, and love they’d seen exhibited by the others on the retreat. *** Ten weeks seemed too long to be away from this sweet place. *** I had no idea that night I would never come back. *** Arkansas was as hot and green as Southeast Asia, but it was so clean. *** He missed rice and tofu, but was happy to be back in the land of sweet tea and porch swings. ***Politics and religion were connected in complicated ways . . .  political rebel. *** They even took the notebooks you gave us to write prayers in. *** It need a long time to rebuild my faith in people. *** Not a single person asked if I was okay. *** But here’s another thing about grief: no one else can understand yours. *** Bruised reed *** I sat on a dark wooden bench in a gazebo, surrounded by yellow chrysanthemums, delicate orchids and trailing roses, and watched shadows of the willow trees dance on the hillsides. *** Research: missionary *** You can put love where love is not. ***

Heroes

 

 

Last evening the “Women in Waiting” workshop series began with a friendly but rough start. People were stressed from difficult lives of juggling children, jobs, court cases and memories. A couple arrived late and some were no shows – or so we thought.

The contemplation part got off to a belated start with a rushed quiet time. We listened to some soft Taize music and breathed or not breathed, as was our need. I gave them the heads up that the instrumental piece was 5 minutes long. It was a good way to re-orient us from our busy lives and the long commute to get there. Amidst sisterly annoyance, hugs and ‘no you’re not late’, joie de vivre begins.

Much of the contemplation time was taken up by telling the stories of women. We imagined ourselves into the life story of Mary the mother of Jesus. She was a devout Jew. Her life was difficult too. We recognized her courage in telling the angel that she would willingly bear God’s Son. She found comfort in her visit with Elizabeth who was pregnant miraculously in her old age (as prophesied). We talked of her feelings atop that donkey at almost 9 months pregnant and finding no place to give birth right away. We see her mystified when Jesus at 12 years old teaches in the synagogue. Her grief was discussed when she was present at the cross and the strangeness and joy she must have experienced at the resurrection. We recalled that Jesus had asked John to look after her.

The conversation progressed to a recognizing of more modern heroes: Malala, Queen Elizabeth II, Gabby Giffords. The name of Anne Frank was raised and a World War II personal family story was told. I thought of Corrie Ten Boom, Teresa of Calcutta, and Teresa of Avila, Julianna of Norwich, Kim Campbell, Adrienne Clark, Alison Redford… All were women with feet of clay – some celebrated, some not so much. Our desire as women of seemingly ordinary lives is to live well, to flourish, and to be heroes if only of our own stories.

The evening continued with more people arriving and being let in on stories and instructions. The ideas of saints and collagists and the era of Dadaism filled the excited air. Our times too are filled with uncertainty and turmoil. Some have life decisions in the hands of judges, of doctors and of counselors – and some of God (if not all).

We collaged women and shadows, text and flowers, colour, paper, images all a seamless mash-up of art mixed with life. Once there, no one wanted to leave. As I drove home tired and happy they chatted in the halls and dark driveway of the church. A Dieu dear ones – until next week.