Viva la Resistance…

No, I have not been mysteriously transported to the French Resistance and the fight against Nazi Germany, although, internally it might feel a bit like that.  And maybe “Long live the Resistance” is not really the sentiment that I want to express, because, really, I would like it to end – it just seems to be the reality of the past few weeks, and, particularly the last 48 hours.

Resistance – you know, that gift from God that shines a light on something that needs our holy attention?  When you are in the middle of it, it certainly does not feel like a gift.

There are lots of changes all around and in me…and what am I feeling?  Resistance.  I am away trying a new thing with a new group of people.  What am I feeling?  Resistance (rather violent resistance, in fact).  I am supposedly doing something that I love, something that is part of my great calling.  Yes, you guessed it – Resistance.  Resistance to stepping out of my community; resistance, resistance, resistance. Resistance to being away from home and everything and everyone that I love, despite the fact that for weeks I have felt the need for some distance.  Again, resistance.

Not the kind of resistance that actually would make me pack up the car and go home, although that is what I desperately want to do. I feel somehow nailed to the floor, as if even though this very resistance is telling me that I have taken yet another wrong turn, that I am supposed to sit right where I am and take it like a good soldier.  That is not a usual color for me…generally if I think something is not a fit, I’m out of here.

And not the kind of resistance which renders me non-participatory and huddled in the corner like a reluctant child.  So
far, I am completely participating as my usual giggly self (which, I must confess, probably alarms some of the more serious contemplative types who surround me, although I am told that there actually is a category called the “bubbly” contemplative).

I wish that I could say that the resistance came without its usual dose of anger, but I cannot.  And I wish that I could blame the anger on the simple fact that I am spending hours in contemplation and prayer (the two have been frequently linked in my past), but I can’t even blame it on that.  This all began before the retreat even started.

And so, I am up, the birds are singing and the sun is shining, and I’m going to go walk these beautiful grounds.  And see just what I can find to resist today…

 

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