It’s near the deadline for these questions in anticipation of the retreat and I think the “trenches” of my peacemaking are linked to my delayed response. My weeks of late have been filled with carpools, house management, organizing volunteers, being asked to volunteer, family viruses, keeping up with friends and family in various states of crisis and celebration, 11th birthday planning, dog sitting and guiding smaller humans into adulthood, and fighting for some kind of sabbath or at least taking in a deep breath of the changing autumn air. Oh, and I have a paid job as a chaplain and trying to keep alive my heart for theological art.

I don’t what it’s like for others to read that sample catalogue of my daily load. It speaks of privilege, opportunities, many relationships, possible boundary issues and vague areas for ordinary, everyday peacemaking, if I can be present to see it. However, if I zoom out, I of course see larger crises locally, domestically and globally that make the mental load of my days feel inconsequential. Jer and Osheta talked recently of the question “What is mine to do?” Perhaps that is the area of most distress for me as I lose sight of what I bring to the table, what of these is my work as peacemaker, amidst needs that seem to call in every direction. I talk with others in my sphere burdened with the problem of “too many good things” and opportunities to get involved. I don’t JUST mean busy kids sports schedules, it’s non-profits, community engagement and spiritual retreats. What is mine to do, and how do we collectively encourage one another to being deeply invested in the work of the Kindom, while having margin enough to even be present to it? So my anxiety resides around those questions and curiosity for myself and my community that seem in a cultural state of too-much-good-ness. All the while, I feel like I am on the sidelines of what really counts, whether its showing up for a friend or showing up for a cause. I need to examine more of where that anxious feeling comes from.

But some areas of hope reside as well. Ben and I are hosting a church gathering in the slow work of Dr. Gushee’s ARC study. People at our church said we were “brave” to do a “faith and politics” study at all. Most people who showed interest are too busy to attend, but we have a few dedicated folks and after each gathering I come away glad to have shared our reflections, even if its just a few of us. I don’t know what will come of this study, but I am trusting it is not wasted time.
Additionally, my siblings have been in conversation around our family of origin, some of which has addressed some long-festering wounds. In this however, I am reminded that each of our experience of growing up was different, even memories or interpretations around the same shared event can vary greatly. It is only in holding loosely my version of what happened and being curious that insight is gained for both parties and we come away feeling closer from taking the risk. I think there is a larger lesson for me in this.
Lastly, I am given hope in play; with my kids, my friends, myself. In play I take myself less seriously and somehow get in touch with a part of my Imago Dei that I too often leave at home in the “important” work of the world.