Injured Beauty

I feel as though I've walked into a room that has been opened for the first time in a long time with the resulting accumulation of dust, cobwebs and appropriate dust bunny populations that grabs your allergies' attention full-force as soon as the first steps inside of the room are taken. Will there be footprints left behind? I'll find that out once I remember where the light switch is. In the meantime, my little flashlight will do as I go about carefully treading into this blog once more.

A lot has happened since my last entry, and a lot has changed. Reconciliation is still hoped for but I have been able to see God's wisdom in why there is this time of separation. It has been not only for my overall repentance but also my overall health as well. Yes, I have learned valuable lessons and by God's grace am applying them now with the appropriate fear and trembling as opposed to the bull in a china shop I once was. I pray now I'm simply a clumsy calf instead, but that I leave to God to determine and let me know about.

Great Lent is upon us once again and I am one of those weird ones that actually looks forward to it- even when life has me up against the wall & beating me to a bloody pulp in the process. I usually volunteer to be up against said wall anyways - all too readily, so this time is definitely needed by me. Last year I faced Lent wondering how it is Christians can be ok being unreconciled with one another, and a wise priest helped enlarge my scope to see how my limited experience is much like Christ's. Just as I had reached out in an effort to reconcile, Christ reached out to the world for reconciliation by His Passion and Death on the Cross. Just like those I was (and still do) seek reconciliation with - Christ waits for the world to bring the reconciliation cycle full-circle but doesn't force it onto us otherwise it's not truly reconciliation. That simple five minute conversation helped make Great Lent be a very healing time for me as I sought out my repentance in the focused ways that Lent encourages this and since then I have been gifted with new Brothers and Sisters that are....well, gifts.

One of those gifts is a monastic with whom I've had the opportunity to not only nurture a friendship with, but even have some adventures with as well. Yes, monastics do in fact have adventures - read their biographies! :-) There's one adventure in particular that I get reminded of every time I see my arm in the mirror. You see, I have what may be a scar from that adventure.

One weekend while visiting we actually had the time for and received a blessing from the Abbess to go on a hike. My friend had found some areas along an animal trail going up a hill on the monastery's grounds that could be transformed into little hermitages with the right simple items. We went to not only explore those, but also see what might be further up the hill.

We burrowed through underbrush, shimmied not only across but *up* shale rock, and got to forge hand and foot holds that would assist us in both climbing up and back down this hill. We found spots where the evidence of old fires remained as well as little areas where one could simply take in the new view which proved more beautiful the higher we got. You see, we were fully confident we could get to the top of this hill - after all, we could see it!

Then came the point where we had neither the time nor the energy to continue on. We rested for a while on the grassy spot that gave a spectacular view of not only the monastery, but hills and meadows that one couldn't see from a lower elevation. We even found ourselves higher than a soaring hawk which was an interesting change. After proclaiming our new spot 'the summit' for the time being, we started our descent back to the monastery.

There were parts of the descent that were easier than the climb up with the shale areas for the most part now being places where controlled slides could happen. Wee! But there were also new challenges, in particular other shale areas as well as the underbrush that had been a bit of a trick to burrow through heading up much less back down. Oh - did I mention we were doing all of this in skirts? Well, my friend in her monastic dress and me with a monastery-appropriate skirt with jeans underneath acting as insulation (but boy was I thankful for them during the hike!). Definitely *not* what I was taught about dresses growing up!

In any case, there was a spot a little more than halfway back down where we stopped to rest a bit but there was some shale. My feet slipped and I started to fall backwards (though I was already sitting). My martial arts training kicked in and my arms slapped out as I had been taught and I felt a sting on my left arm when I slapped out. Feeling the pain, I looked brought my arm back to where I could look at it and I started doing things to see if it was broken or not. Everything moved like it was supposed to, but I could feel something hurting. I lifted up the sleeve to my jacket and - WOW! I didn't have just an egg, but a goose egg of swelling with a spot where the skin had broken and there was some bleeding. I looked at the spot where my arm had slapped and I found the culprit that had caused my injury - a rock. While I was actually fascinated with this, I knew we needed to get back. My friend expressed concern and agreed that we needed to keep going.

When we got back down the hill we both looked like we were more prepared for doing something that required camouflage than the monastic/pre-monastics we are. Our shoes were filled with rocks, we had bits of brush all over ourselves and my head-covering...well, yeah - did I mention camouflage?

By that point the swelling in my arm got to the point where if I wanted to look at my egg the jacket had to come off as opposed to pulling up my sleeve. Yup, it had grown. We went inside where I was given the most untraditional means to ice my arm at a monastery: A bag of frozen meatballs that a guest had brought with good intentions but was otherwise unusable at a monastery. My friend went to go shower and I sat with my ice pack.

The appropriate treatments were given and over a period of weeks the swelling did go down and the bruising did heal and fade. However, 3 months later I still have a scar where the skin broke. It still feels weird if I put pressure on that area - but I don't think of the moment the injury happened. Instead I am reminded of the time spent with my friend, the views that we got to take in, and simply enjoy being in each others' company as well as God's. All of it gloriously beautiful by God's grace - things I couldn't have done or seen had I not been willing to try something new.

So what does this have to do with Great Lent?

Lent helps us to prepare for the Feast of Feasts - Pascha. Where Death is conquered through death and our relationship with God set right back where it belonged in the first place. However, to get there Christ willingly went up onto the Cross preceded by being scourged, mocked and oh yes - carrying the very instrument that would cause His Death. All of it voluntary on His part. So yes while we have the Glorious Beauty of Pascha - it didn't happen without injury. Granted, mine was a simple accident while Christ knew what He was getting into before His Incarnation. We mourn that it's our sinfulness that brought this about - but it's with love and gratitude we celebrate and adore His 3-day Resurrection. Injured Beauty.

So yes, while I do pray that perhaps God will grant that my scar will fade at the same time I'm ok - and even thankful - if it doesn't. While my own scar will remind me a day spent in God's Beauty it doesn't compare to the Beauty we all get to benefit from as a result of the injuries Christ took upon Himself for our sakes.

May we all be blessed during this time of Bright Sadness on our upcoming journey towards Pascha, knowing there won't be one set of footprints along the way - but two!