on accompaniment, attentiveness, and contribution
Daily silent prayer helps us arrive at a place of inner clarity.
The extended solitude of annual silent retreat also helps us arrive at a place of inner clarity.
The experience of these clarities is distinct, and both help us to see to those things in our lives that are of ultimate value and engage them with great love and courage.
After college, I moved with some other recent graduates to a fairly rural town in Eastern Uganda.
When we would meet local folks for the first time, they would not infrequently toss the word mpolampola, often translated as “slowly, slowly,” into the exchange.
“Wait, what?” I would think. “How did that make sense as part of this conversation?”
But it makes perfect sense. It is a fantastic reminder for a Westerner generally, and especially one encountering a new place and culture.
Moving too quickly, either outwardly or within our own heads, we miss the remarkableness of where and when we are living.
Moving slowly, though, we can experience the richness of the vulnerability of life, particularly at a transition.
An older priest at our parish growing up used to work the following aphorism into homilies a few times a year. He would say, “If you can spot it, you got it.”
That is, if you notice a flaw in another person, chances are, you have the same thing going on.
Not super scientific, but so often true.
This is another way into the reality that advice is autobiographical.
Today, we move to Germany, the beginning of a two-year stay.
To prepare for our move, a few days ago, I took our car to CarMax to sell.
I like to _think_ that I am a person who is generally unattached to belongings. And our car is not fancy, a little lowest-trim-level SUV, purchased in 2018, also at a CarMax. But when the nice lady handed me a check and asked for my keys, I got really sad! I was attached to our unremarkable car!
In this period of transition, I’ve been thinking that a (or maybe _the_?) central task in the spiritual life is letting go… relinquishing everything that is not of the love that is God. And we are not instinctively good at this. It takes practice… not _thinking_ about doing it – but actually doing it. Actually handing over the keys, freed for something better.
For years, when I was home full-time with our son (and then sons), I would change up how I answered the question: “So, what do you do?” One day, I heard myself answer: “Well, I am the keeper of slack in our family system.”
And, you know, I kind of liked that title! I began to use it more often and so began to take it more seriously.
I tried to be the keeper of slack *outwardly*, leaving time unscheduled so that I could be present and responsive to family.
I also tried to guard against tension *internally*, building prayer and meditation into my days, hoping to be more attentive and loving.
I must say that I do not feel necessarily accomplished at this guardianship, and definitely less so this year than in years past. But I am still trying, and would love for the “keeper of slack in the family system” to be a common term. It would certainly help me follow through more consistently on this sincere aspiration.
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