The Power of Place…
Learning a lot about stability in this season of life, about what growth looks like here, what joy looks like and how one’s life reflects the glory of God in seasons of stability.
Taking a look through church history recently…reading about the saints and about the practices of old that were curated with such intention and how such simple practices of stability, have changed the world in significant ways. In my readings, I was struck by how saints are often introduced…. Saints always come from somewhere. Augustine of Hippo, Hildegard of Bingen, Francis of Assisi…They all are identified by the community, the place in which they come from.
Yes, if you want to become a saint, you have to be willing to submit to the smallest of all prepositions: of. Indeed, before the eternal Word stretched out his arms on the cross to take on the weight of sin and death, he took on a preposition: Jesus of Nazareth. Even Jesus didn’t try to live outside of the community that was right in front of him. Apparently, the way you make a big difference is by giving yourself over to the concerns and the constraints of a small place
Challenged by this submission this week…how can I live in the power of place by being rooted in where I come from? In a world of hypermobility, how I can choose to take root in the community that God has planted me in and see it as Holy ground? It’s a fresh call to consecrate the ground beneath your feet…how will you live as Saint __________ of ____________?
Loving this work that I have the privilege of showing up to every week and consistently challenged by it… The past month has held some significant learning spaces for me as a labor and delivery nurse. One week it was caring for several first-time moms where the beauty of their birth stories carried a bit of trauma, to the next week of caring for first-time moms who seemed to birth so effortlessly. One week I felt the trauma, trying to help my patients cope with the unexpected events of their birth, holding their hand as they sat in a silent room knowing their baby was getting intubated in the NICU, while the next week I held the hand of that 20-something as her supportive husband and mom spoke such strength into her as she pushed her baby out in minutes of arriving to the hospital. The stark contrast from week to week challenged my psyche…while one week I felt like a failure, watching so many of my high-risk patients struggle in their birth, and the next, being reminded that birth is not an emergency. All this, reminding me that my work in this field mirrors this longer journey in life…the ups and downs and in-betweens. We learn from the brokenness and work hard to protect amidst the trauma, and we find rest for our weary souls and bodies in the ease of the non-emergent.
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Love on your people & keep in perspective your beautiful legacy in light of eternity.…
Love and Blessings,