Buechner

I'd forgotten about Buechner until last week when I read some of his sermons. I love Buechner for many reasons - his eloquent writing, his perspective of faith. But what I appreciate most is his experience of and appreciation for the hard things that life offers us. He wears no rose-colored glasses. The world is a painful place and, according to Buechner, God can speak to us through that pain.

I am glad to have stumbled upon Buechner once again, because life is painful right now (for myself and for those whom I love, which is really one in the same), and reading Buechner is balm for the soul. There are those human beings who, in our moments of pain and darkness, can pull us back to the light. Frederick Buechner is one of those human beings to me.

This year has truly been one of pain and loss, occurring mostly in the last few months. My cats died. Friendships dispersed, or disappeared all together. Devon's mother passed away. A friend miscarried. Dave moved away. These are all sad, sobering things, the things life is made of. But, it has also been a year of growth, of blessings and joys. Spending good time with my parents. Melissa and Jacob's wedding. Visits from friends. Traveling to Portland and Costa Rica. Assuming new responsibilities. Being pleasantly surprised by a new relationship. Enjoying my friendships in l'Arche. Reading good books and enjoying solitude. Discovering my gifts and strengths and capacities. Experiencing forgiveness and kindness within my home. Maintaining friendships. Life consists of these things, too.

One of the many things I appreciate about l'Arche is the emphasis on reflection. We are consistently asked to reflect upon and process our experiences in l'Arche, through accompaniment, retreats, weekly times of sharing, nightly prayer, and personal time. I think that's why l'Arche works, because we are called time and time again to remember. We remember the hardships and the turmoil, and we realize that we survived them; in fact, we even realize that we are better because of them. We remember the anticipation and the excitement and anxiety of first moving in and stumbling around. We remember the week when, in crisis, everyone dropped what they were doing to support one another. We remember the spontaneous moments of excitement - dancing in the kitchen or laughing in the living room. We remember our story, where we have been and where we are now and where we are going. Memory is essential for our life together.

Buechner wrote an essay I really like called, "A Room Called Remember." Here is a passage that resonates.
"We have survived, you and I. Maybe that is at the heart of our remembering. After twenty years, forty years, sixty years or eighty, we have made it to this year, this day. We needn't have made it. There were times we never thought we would and nearly didn't. There were times we almost hoped we wouldn't, were ready to give the whole thing up. Each must speak for himself, for herself, but I can say for myself that I have seen sorrow and pain enough to turn the heart to stone. Who hasn't? Many times I have chosen the wrong road, or the right road for the wrong reason. Many times I have loved the people I love too much for either their good or mine, and others I might have loved I have missed loving and lost. I have followed too much the devices and desires of my own heart, as the old prayer goes, yet often when my heart called out to be brave, to be kind, to be honest, I have not followed at all.
"To remember in my life is to remember countless times when I might have given up, gone under, when humanly speaking I might have gotten lost beyond the power of any to find me. But I didn't. I have not given up. You also are survivors and are here. And what does that tell us, our surviving? It tells us that weak as we are, a strength beyond our strength has pulled us through at least this far, at least to this day. Foolish as we are,a wisdom beyond our wisdom has flickered up just often enough to light us if not to the right path through the forest, at least to a path that leads forward, that is bearable. Faint of heart as we are, a love beyond our power to love has kept our hearts alive."