When the Pharisees heard that Jesus had left the Sadducees
speechless, they met together. One of them, a legal expert, tested Jesus.
“Teacher, what is the greatest commandment in the Law?”
He replied, “You must love the Lord your God with all your
heart, with all your being, and with all your mind. This is the first and
greatest commandment. And the second is like it: You must love your neighbor as
you love yourself. All the Law and the Prophets depend on these two commands.”
****
I want you to think for a moment about a time you have felt
close to God. Maybe it’s riding horseback in these hills, maybe its sitting
next your granddaughter in church, maybe it’s the solitude of a hunt, or
laughter around the dinner table. Whatever it is, I want you to think for a
moment, of a moment when you have felt close to God.
We had been thinking about this theme a lot in our
congregation, as we sought to apply for a Lilly Grant for sabbatical for the
church and myself. The grant asked, “What makes your heart sing?” and for me,
the answer came immediately, it was being with friends in water. It was being
in water. That is where I felt closest to God. Yet despite the ease of my
answer, there were often months between opportunities to become submerged. This
is because, taking time for yourself is a hard thing to do when there is so
much to do. It’s a hard thing to choose, to love yourself.
As I have preached before, I went through some of my first
major health issues, from about last fall until this summer. I menstruated for
seven months straight, was pumped with hormones, and told I may not be able to
have kids, and then that I needed to sooner rather than later. It was
heartbreaking and panic inducing.
I had been dating for about four years, and though people
say, “You never know when your going to meet someone,” I knew the statistics
here weren’t good and I was a
little odd. It made the timeline of my life become oppressive, “Katy, you have
to find someone now, and you’re never going to find someone here. You have to
leave.”
And then, with the thought of leaving, I would feel a
different kind of heartbreak. I remember riding in the car with Kate Averett
last winter under a full moon to go snowshoe Anthony Lakes, and my saying,
“This may be the most beautiful place I will ever live,” and her concurring,
and we two poets, our words dropping into the vibrant, silent light bouncing
off the snowy mountains. Similarly, I threw a party recently, and a new friend
remarked, “I looked around and saw you have created this amazing community of
people, and I thought about your job, and how, after awhile you’re expected to
go, and I how hard that will be for us all, but especially for you.” I felt
like my friend saw it, and saw me. Then, there was this church, in the same way
as that party, and in some ways more, I walk in, and see my family. I see the
people who took me on as a first-call pastor, who upheld and healed me during
my divorce, and since then had nurtured, encouraged, and continually inspired
me. This was the place I felt at home. But as much as Baker City
felt like home, and the place to which I am called, I knew even more strongly,
I was called to be a mother. But the life paths didn’t make sense. What was God
asking me to do? I didn’t understand.
And then there was this Lilly Grant, which was truly the
opportunity of a lifetime, but I felt like I didn’t have time, my biological
clock was ticking, and the grant required the pastor to stay a year after they
took the sabbatical. I knew in my head that to choose the grant was to choose
the abundant present, instead of an unknown dreamed of future. To choose the
grant was to choose to seek peace, over fear. I knew to choose the grant was to
choose love, love of this church, of this place, of this community, and
especially of myself. But it is hard to choose to love yourself, when there is
so much else to do. It’s hard to love yourself, when so much of life is out of
our control.
I figured I would at least apply. We as a church worked
together, and whenever I would be asked, “What makes my heart sing,” I felt an
overwhelming peaceful pressure, like that of sinking into warm water, and when
I submerged into that dream of the sabbatical, I found myself smiling. I found
myself, feeling like myself, something I hadn’t felt in awhile. In the same
way, when I heard different congregants share what made their heart sing, I saw
that same sense of peaceful direction from God.
We had to wait from submitting the grant in April, until
August to know if we had received the grant. In the meantime, I worked
diligently with a spiritual director, and we focused on healing. I focused on
me, on loving myself, and loving God, instead of dating and trying to find
someone to fit in a timeline. It sounds easier than it was; I needed constant
reminders to choose me. I needed those good friends, I needed afternoons in the
mountains, I needed invigorating discussions at Lectionary Bible Study. I
needed those times I sat in awe at an amazing Session and the wisdom and
compassion of our elders. I needed those moments where I was in the present
choosing to love myself.
While I was gone on Summer vacation, I got the call from
Susan, the secretary that there was a big envelope on my desk from the Lilly
Foundation and should she open it. I was in the car with my college roommate,
and when the answer was yes, acceptance, I got squealing excited. We were stuck
in traffic but all I wanted to do was jump up and down. I didn’t need any more
convincing I had made the right choice, and what convinced me was not the grant
acceptance, but the joy I felt. It was an answered prayer, or an answer to more
prayers than I can count, as I know you lifted them up too.
I went to the doctor last week, the nurse said she
remembered my name very well but couldn’t place it until she read the file. The
visits had been intense but then distant. I told her and the doctor my bleeding
had stopped being crazy, and I could see a peace in them too. I asked the
doctor what my next steps were in regards to fertility and/or freezing eggs.
She said she had just read a new study which told, that despite a lot of
research, there are just too many factors to predict fertility, that one
couldn’t really know, and then she said, I had time and I felt like I did. I
feel like I do have time. And so do you.
Love yourself. Go do that thing. Forget about your timeline.
Lean in to God. Start right now. Choose to love yourself.
