July 12th was baptism day for my three kids and me. It was celebratory and light, but its meaning resonated deep within me – to be dipped into the love of God that, bidden or not, is always here. The baptism was a moment when that love was visually and sensorily represented. It also demonstrated our intention to make a new home in a religious community, articulating in front of the wider community in the pews our desire to belong.
It’s a summer of forks in the road. A new religious home, and a new physical home for my family and me as we’re preparing to move. I have so much love and gratitude for our house of nearly 10 years, a place that has held us through a pandemic, through the ups and downs of life and countless dreams, fears, and plans.
Here we’ve been held, which helped us be brave enough to grow and change. Here we’ve hosted beloved guests and had gatherings, enjoyed peace with the neighbors on our street, and supported the kids’ transformation from ages 2, 4, and 6 to ages 12, 14, and 16. Here I’ve been able to near-daily partake in the complex fragrance of a Ponderosa pine when I put my nose right on the trunk.
Spiritual people speak of “liminal times” because it sounds better than transition but they are similar. I remember transition from when I was in labor. Yikes. During labor it refers to something so intense you want to give up; you at least know you can’t do it for long.
During these times my anxiety tends to find several available on-ramps. I become more superstitious, wanting “happy” tarot cards and to glide along as if the universe is assisting my every step towards a new, better future. I can become impatient and immature in my prayers, gratitude and reflection being replaced with: “Tell me what to do.”
When I was wondering about whether to make a shift with church and whether moving was the right choice, I had fitful nights of sleep where I just wanted a straight answer. Ultimately, I did get an answer, delivered to me in a dream but with enough clarity that I can tell it to you today: “It does not matter what you do, it matters how you do it.”
What would it look like to live in a wider world where the “how” mattered more than the “what”? There would be less destructive and cruel means-to-an-end thinking and behavior. People navigating the world by what are often celebrated for it, but in my estimation there is rot at the core when we go about life that way. The what is the mask, the persona, the label that we use to divide and separate.
My wonderful law school professor, Professor Peck, told a story about early in his career when he was practicing in a small town and used some legal maneuvering to gain an advantage. A colleague approached him and asked, “Is this how you’re going to practice law, Peck?”
The question has stuck with me for years because it’s profound. (It changed Professor Peck; that was not how he wanted to practice). There are a million roles we can fill on any given day – partner, friend, fellow commuter, customer, service provider. The how is who you are on a minute by minute basis, what matters enough that you actually live it, the artful expression of your what. The how is the thing that makes the what come alive.
Navigating the world by the how instead of the what is subtle, internal process but we know it when we see it; I notice it as an increased sense of aliveness and integrity in myself and others. We need companions on the journey. My closest people understand and appreciate my how. Further, my conception of God is as one who knows and understands me completely. Who only cares about the how. During our baptism service, our prayer for illumination was to this God. The congregation said:
Holy God,
in whom no heart is hidden and no desire unknown.
You do not require our confession to learn who we are.
You invite honesty so that we might know ourselves
as you know us.
We confess that we have lived guarded lives.
We have feared being seen.
Strip away what is false,
not to shame us,
but to leave us finally able to stand
in your sight unafraid.
In Christ we pray, Amen.
Focusing on how versus what in the church and home search has ensured that it’s made sense from the inside out. When I think about how I want to treat the people I’m interacting with in these processes, I act with more integrity and experience more joy. Other people are not just a means to my goal/getting my needs met but authentic connections who are helping me through what is hopefully a sacred process of saying both goodbye and hello.
I often think of a line from the poem “Urban Law” by Alison Hawthorne Deming (please read the whole poem here!). When a stranger shows a simple gesture of kindness, “…together at rush hour that man and I redeem the whole human race.” When I focus on the how I cannot help but treat everything as a sacred opportunity to redeem the whole human race, one interaction at a time.
How you are living during this late summer time? I’d love to hear from you about this or anything you want to share with me. I send my love and care to you for whatever liminal space you’re currently occupying. And shout out to my fellow summer 1996 Wood Valley lifeguards; this song was our jam.
