A Contemplative Stance Helps Us Notice Our Invitations

12/9/20

Dear friend,

Last week, I shared that over the next few weeks we are going to settle in at the intersection of our light and our contemplative posture, exploring how they play with each other and what we can notice and learn about them.

In thinking about where to start with this conversation, my mind kept drifting back to a moment that happened in my life just over 15 years ago.

I was driving on the 91 freeway in Riverside, California, newly single after a difficult marriage, separation, and soon-to-be-finalized divorce, and I was feeling alone. I'd just left yet another voicemail on yet another friend's phone in a long string of days where I couldn't seem to be met in live time by any of the caring and nurturing relationships in my life.

It felt bizarre that no one was there each time I reached out.

Unusual. Strange. Not normal for my relationships.

I was tempted to pity myself. Here I was, back in my home state after a period of living away, going through something no one in my life saw coming and no one else my age had experienced. I felt lonely in the circumstances, but my support system was strong. I'd been met by a lot of love and friendship in my return. I was finding my way, and I felt grateful.

But now this string of days that felt . . . silent. No calls picked up. No loved ones available. Where was everybody? How had they all happened to disappear at the same time?

This was a moment when the contemplative stance had something to say.

Instead of "Fall into self-pity" or "Try harder" or "Keep calling," a different thought presented itself: "Is there something for me in this?"

Invitations can look all kinds of ways, but sometimes we know an invitation has presented itself because it has a different voice than our usual one. It has a different feel. It feels, perhaps, like our most evolved self or the God of the universe whispering in our ear.

"Is there something for me in this?" What an interesting question.

Still driving on that stretch of the 91 freeway, my attention shifted from sadness, disappointment, loneliness, and frustration to surprise, curiosity, wonder, and hope.

What could be here? Is something being invited of me? How does it want to engage me, teach me, grow me?

This particular invitation in my life gave way to a period of focused solitude. The impression came that what wanted to be offered to me in the silence and aloneness was God's presence for my healing. I spent many precious hours in the tiny guest house I rented in Riverside during that season receiving a deeper experience of my belovedness in God. The relationships were still there (they hadn't actually disappeared!), but something more wanted to be part of the full experience too.

The contemplative stance is one that notices invitations, and those invitations concern the light we're holding inside us. Sometimes the light needs tending on the inside. Sometimes it's being invited to flicker bright for others on the outside. It can look all kinds of ways.

We notice the invitations, and then we have a chance to respond. We can say yes to what might happen, or we can pause and say not yet or no.

What are some of the invitations you've noticed at odd moments of your life? How did you respond? Was a gift nestled in there, waiting for you?

Yours in the noticing,
Christianne