Angry has its own verb (anger). Judgmental also has one (judge). Doesn't it seem that gentle should have one, too? It turns out it does.
Each Friday morning this time of year Lisa and I load up our our Dagger kayaks and head for the Willamette River. She life jackets herself (to make up another verb) and Oliver while I park the pickup then we settle in for a slow paddle up a quiet river.
Today we entered the water with heavy hearts. Lisa has a dear friend of 40 years who is dying. Occasional words help comfort Lisa, but mostly she carries this profound sorrow alone, deep in her bones.
I launched into the river this morning having survived another trauma nightmare, which show up with surprising frequency these days. There is a long story there, which is best left mostly unwritten.
There are other sorrows, too. Of course there are. There's the travail a loved one currently enduring chemotherapy, the suffocating realities of aging and death everywhere we turn, political and social upheaval, the suffering of those we walk alongside in our spiritual direction (Lisa) and psychology (Mark) practices. All this settled into the Willamette with us Friday morning.
Clearly, we needed gentling.
It didn't take long. The stunning sky, the reflections on quiet water, the subtle ripples of the Willamette moving toward us... these centered our souls.
Click on the video if you want nine seconds of soul centering...
I don't think we've ever seen four Great Blue Herons hanging out together until today. Can you spot them?
Then there's the mostly-submerged tree with forehead barely sticking above the water, getting greener each week.
The tender sway softened the edges of life's pain. The breeze, the beauty, the quiet--they all brought a gentling grace.
Macrina Wiederkehr's poem, Tourist or Pilgrim?, carries a compelling phrase:
Then suddenly, overpowering me with the truth, a voice within me gentles me...
I wonder, what gentles you?
Many who read my blog are not religious, which is how I want this blog to be, but today a voice of faith entered my heart while on the water and I would be cowardly not to describe it.
Last Sunday in Quaker worship, our friend Janine led us in song called Deep, Deep Love. The lyrics have been reverberating in my mind, heart, and voice all week, and they certainly showed up on the water this morning. Lisa started singing, too:
Your deep, deep love washes over me.
Your deep, deep love fills my every need.
How I long to hear your voice call out my name.
It draws me to your deep, deep love.
Your deep, deep love cleanses all my sins.
Your deep, deep love brings a peace within.
How I long to hear your voice call out my name.
It draws me to your deep, deep love.
Lisa's friend who is dying, oh my, she embodies these words and has throughout all her days. She will leave a lifetime of gentling grace as she departs.
Lisa and I have a book coming out soon, An Invitation to Slow. Here is a brief description of the book.
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