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| Our house community in our chapel together last week. Picture courtesy of Romina! |
I
sat down in the chapel late last night when the house was quiet. I couldn’t let the day be over just yet, knowing
that the morning would bring leaving. I
opened my journal and wrote a heading for an entry: “Last Night as an Affiliate in Casa Caridad – June
11, 2013 – 11:30pm.” I sighed and looked
around, wondering how many hours I had spent cross-legged on that little floor
pillow, in prayer with my community and our loving God.
Just
before I began to write, I remembered that each page of my journal contains a
different Bible verse. I glanced to the
bottom of this so-far empty sheet to see today's nugget of wisdom.
My
jaw dropped.
“The
Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.”
(Psalm 121:8)
I
smiled through my tears. Okay, I hear You, God, I thought. You’ve got this.
I’d
been feeling as ready as I could feel for the move from El Paso back to
Cincinnati. Then last Tuesday, I had my
small obligatory pre-transition freak out as I spent probably seven hours
straight going through belongings and packing.
That physical act always gets my anxiety going. Suddenly, my somewhat settled life was
becoming fragmented into a bunch of suitcases.
I realized that soon my room wouldn’t be my room anymore. The trust I felt before was MIA.
On
Wednesday morning after my frazzled afternoon and evening of packing, I met
with my spiritual director, Veronica. Sensing
my unsettled heart, she looked me in the eyes and told me, “The Paschal Mystery
is at the center of who we are as Christians.
And you, you’re living it right now.
“Transition
involves a lot of letting go. Well, really,
this whole time of discernment has involved a lot of letting go. You’ve had to die to ideas of yourself and
your life that will no longer come true.
You’ve had to let go of control, of knowing where and how God will you
use you, of the security of a romantic partner, and many other things. Now you’re letting go of “Affiliate Tracy” or
“El Paso Tracy.” Like death, this
letting go hurts. But we know that death
is not the last word. All of this death
has made room for new life. And it’s all
been happening simultaneously. Tracy,
things are RISING in and for you!” she said.
She’s
right. In this moment, there’s mourning
happening, but there is much treasuring and rejoicing and looking forward to.
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| Loved ones at Proyecto Santo Nino in Mexico that I carry in my heart as I go |
In prayer last night, I scanned the many faces
that represent people I have loved and have loved me in my almost three years
at the border. On a walk with Janet and
Romina this morning, I tried to soak in the big Southwest sky, the sounds of
the birds, the beauty of the pecan groves and this year’s cotton crop just
sprouting up. As we drove along I-10 to
the airport, I tried to swallow up the Franklin Mountains, Mt. Cristo Rey, and
the view of the tiny houses of Mexico just beyond the border fence.
In
the same instant, I imagined that beautiful red brick building overlooking the
Ohio River that the Sisters of Charity of Cincinnati call home. I imagined all of the hellos that would
follow these stinging goodbyes. I felt
the warmth that comes from spending some time in Fairfield with my beloved Mom
and Dad who I never get to see quite enough.
As our plane landed in Cincinnati tonight, I celebrated the lush green
Midwest terrain and rivers that stretched out before my eyes.
Leaving
– somewhere, or something, or someone – always seems to show me the
expansiveness of the human heart. In
saying good-bye, we behold all of the gifts of the phase that is ending and
open ever-wider to all of the gifts that will come. We cry because we have loved deeply. We hope and rejoice because we will love deeply. How is it possible that our hearts are able
to contain so much at once?
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| A bursting heart! |
As
I shared teary-eyed hugs with loved ones before heading through security at the
El Paso airport today, I felt it all. There
was love, joy, pain, fear, excitement, gratitude, memories, faces, places,
moments, feelings, hopes, dreams, and more love. A bit like in The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, my heart swelled and throbbed and
maybe even grew. As Romina said today,
our lives are so full! These moments
help me to stand in awe at the fullness of my life. And at the infinite nature of God's love.
Tonight,
Mom and Dad picked me up and brought me back to Fairfield, Ohio. I ate delicious leftovers from the dinner Mom
cooked last night. We watched some
episodes of Seinfeld. Dad and I each had one of his home-brewed beers. Now, sitting in my childhood bedroom, I'm surrounded by pictures and trinkets from my
grade school and high school days. I feel so far removed from the younger Tracy that this room represents, but I’m not separate from it. It is all a part of me, just as these three
years in El Paso are ingrained in my soul and will be with me wherever I go.
God
is watching over us now and forever – our coming, our going, our staying, our
starting, our seeking.
As
I go to bed tonight, words that surfaced in my heart during community
prayer this morning surface again. It's an itty-bitty prayer that perhaps can sum up today’s bursting-heart experience of leaving:
“For
all that has been,
Thank you.
For all that is to come,
Yes!”
(― Dag Hammarskjöld)
