Today's prayer is coming to you as a reflection and poem, themed on the final Fruit of the Spirit "self-control," and submitted by RfA's executive director Cameron Van Kooten Laughead.
General Synod is, to put it lightly, stressful. If you're anything like me, you don't always behave your best when under stress. Yet, for some reason, the typical definitions of "self-control" don't seem to strike me as enough for what I've learned through General Synods past. It's not just about holding back my snarky comment or keeping a level head when faced with inconsideration. Yes, these things matter at Synod (and elsewhere!) But, when I think about self-control at General Synod, in doing the work of Room for All out in the field or in my office, I think of growth.
How have the stresses or joys of General Synod taught me to behave? What have the obstacles, camraderie, allyship, and anger I've known in this work taught me about myself and what I can and can't control or what I spend my energy on? I know many across the RCA have anxiety about the conversations and meetings happening soon. I do, too. And while I'm delighted I'll get to see many friends I haven't seen in two years and I'm filled with joy that the RCA has more LGBTQIA affirming congregation than ever before, this poem by Mary Oliver spoke to my heart. Whether the stress, anxiety, or grief you live with today have anything to do with General Synod, may this poem and the time spent with these feelings help you understand what your self needs to-- and can be-- in control of.
Heavy
by Mary Oliver
That time
I thought I could not
go any closer to grief
without dying
I went closer,
and I did not die.
Surely God
had his hand in this,
as well as friends.
Still, I was bent,
and my laughter,
as the poet said,
was nowhere to be found.
Then said my friend Daniel,
(brave even among lions),
“It’s not the weight you carry
but how you carry it –
books, bricks, grief –
it’s all in the way
you embrace it, balance it, carry it
when you cannot, and would not,
put it down.”
So I went practicing.
Have you noticed?
Have you heard
the laughter
that comes, now and again,
out of my startled mouth?
How I linger
to admire, admire, admire
the things of this world
that are kind, and maybe
also troubled –
roses in the wind,
the sea geese on the steep waves,
a love
to which there is no reply?
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