Tuesday's Reflection: Rites of Passage and Test Anxiety

When you move to a new state, certain things are required. One is to register your car and get new license plates. In fact, in Minnesota you have 60 days from your move-in date to do that. I trooped off to the department of motor vehicles one morning with all the appropriate paper work--title to the car, proof of insurance, identification, and a filled-out application.  I was determined not to get frustrated and instead to be friendly and patient. Basically, that went well, even though in spite of being number two in line and having all the required documents and information, it still took over 45 minutes to complete this task. Mission accomplished.

Next on the "must do" list: take the written test for a Minnesota driver's license. That meant I needed to study the Minnesota Drivers Manual. Most of what I read seemed like common sense ("Driving faster than the posted speed limit is illegal."), or has been learned with experience, such as maneuvering roundabouts.  However, I was not familiar with the sign for a narrow bridge nor did I know it is possible to be killed in a crash when traveling at speeds as low as 12 mph. I read through the manual twice, underlining key points as I read, and then I made an appointment with myself for Test Day.

I vividly recall doing the same thing when we moved to Ohio. I studied the manual and went to a testing location and took the written test. I remember thinking when it came time to relinquish my Minnesota driver's license, "Do I really want to do this? I guess we really live here." The state employee extended his hand for the license, but I held the license  tightly, a little too tightly.  Ultimately, I handed it over, relieved at least I had passed the test. Mission accomplished.

When we moved to Wisconsin, taking the written test was not required. I wondered why that is, but I didn't argue. I breathed a sigh of relief and replaced my Ohio license with the Wisconsin one. Mission accomplished. 

Test Anxiety
I didn't need to make an appointment to take the written test, except with myself, and I didn't tell anyone that was my Wednesday morning plan. I made a lunch date with my Dad, saying I would be doing errands that morning, and in my usual morning email to a friend I didn't mention the specific "errand" I would be doing. Why? Well, what if I didn't pass and then had to admit that? I was anticipating embarrassment.

Off I went. Again, I had the appropriate documents in hand--my passport and my Wisconsin drivers license--and I had a bag full of reading material, anticipating a wait. I had meditated before leaving, and again, I was determined not to get frustrated, but instead to be friendly and patient. 

Still, I was nervous. 

How many tests have I taken over the years, beginning with the Iowa Basic Skills Tests over and over again in elementary school and later the dreaded SATs and Grad Recs and all the tests in between? Instead of accruing enough confidence to get me through yet another test, I had accumulated unconscious test anxiety, which I could feel rising as I stood in line waiting to register. 

Eventually, I was seated at the computer monitor, put on the head phones, took a deep breath, a very deep breath, and started the test.  With each answer you are told immediately if your answer is correct or incorrect. First question: correct. Yes! Second question: incorrect. Oh no! I knew 80% was a passing grade, but I didn't know how many questions there would be, and I didn't know how many questions you could answer incorrectly and still pass the test.

I took another deep breath and knew there was nothing to do, but continue. On and on and on the questions seemed to keep coming. Would this never end? I missed two other questions, becoming more nervous as I went along. Did you know a slow-moving vehicle emblem must be displayed on all vehicles that travel at speeds of 30 mph or less? I guessed 20 mph. Wrong!!!! However, one question was repeated--something about whether having a drivers license in Minnesota is a right or a privilege--and I had answered that correctly the first time, so the second time was a sweet gift. 

Relief!
Finally, the test was over, and I had passed with a score of 91%! I was elated, absolutely thrilled. I felt like I was 16 and was applying for my drivers license for the very first time. I paid my money and stood for the unflattering photo and walked out the door a little taller and lighter. Mission accomplished. 

What was that all about I have wondered in the days since then? Where does that kind of anxiety come from? After all, if I had not passed it, I could have studied more and returned to take the test again. And more importantly, I only needed to take the written test and not the road test. I am a good driver and logically, I knew I would pass the test. The idea of failing loomed over me, however. The worry I would not measure up sat heavily within. 

For the most part I am not a person who worries a great deal. I don't generally become nervous about what could happen, what might happen and what is waiting to happen. Basically, I put my confidence in preparation and then move forward, but the anxiety I felt about this test made me think about what fears I hold and about my relationship to trust. 

Re-Learning the Lessons of Trust and Courage
It seems to me that each time I feel anxiety or fear rise within me, there is an opportunity to re-learn that God is within me. Instead of discounting how my body or thoughts are speaking to me, I need to remind myself to listen closely to what life is telling me. It is through our day to day experiences, the people and situations and events that swirl around us, that there is a call to live fully, live deeply. An invitation to live with trust and courage.

Harriet Lerner http://www.harrietlerner.com ‎ has written a marvelous book about fear and anxiety, Fear and Other Uninvited Guests, Tackling the Anxiety, Fear, and Shame That Keep Us from Optimal Living and Loving. I commend this book to you no matter what anxiety lurks within you today. As a sample, here is her courage list: 
          There is courage in taking action.
          There is courage in speaking.
          There is courage in questioning.
          There is courage in pure listening.
          There is courage in thinking for ourselves.
          There is courage in being accountable.

Ultimately, every decision, every action is one reflecting love or reflecting fear. Even taking the test to get my drivers license. I love living here once again, and therefore, I needed to conquer my fear of taking the test. I am so glad I did, and doing that, I know that I have reinforced, if only a little bit, my ability to live with courage and trust.

An Invitation
What kinds of situations raise "test anxiety" within you and how do you typically respond? Where are you being invited to live with courage and trust?

Tuesday Reflection: The Great Wall of Corn

Recently, my husband and I drove out into the country. The day was warm, and we felt free. We had a destination, but it didn't matter how long it took to get there. Driving in his Mazda Miatta or the "little car," as we fondly call it, we were dwarfed by the cornfields. Great Walls of Corn towered over us. The culmination of summer's growth. Thick and tall. Imposing, impressive, and almost impermeable. Worthy of a travel advisory, "Beware of reduced sight lines at country intersections." 

Occasionally, we caught a quick glimpse of a view beyond the immediate rows of corn, but for the most part we only saw what was right in front of us. We had the Wisconsin platte book with us, guiding us from county road to county road, but rarely was there any other landmark to tell us where we were. We just relaxed into the journey. 

The Need to Relax

I haven't been doing such a good job lately of relaxing into the journey. Oh, there are moments, such as that weekend drive or when I am sitting on the front porch lost in a book, abandoning all sense of time passing, or when I am at my desk writing and studying. Or when I remind myself to close my eyes and meditate for 20 minutes. 

Most of the time, however, I want clarity. 

I want to be able to see what might be coming when I stop at an intersection. I want to know what's beyond the Great Wall of Corn. 

I want my summer to end in that same kind of fruitfulness. 

I want the harvest. 

From Spare to Bare

Cynthia the Stager's instructions were quite clear. Move back the living room chairs closer to the bookshelves. Take out the bookshelf full of cookbooks in the kitchen. A piece of furniture here and another one there. Oh, and repaint the den. Repaint the kitchen. 

I liked her decisiveness. She was nonthreatening and collaborative, but assertive.  I was surprised she didn't make more suggestions and pleased when she announced how staged the house already appears. 

That's all good, but now we are living in what feels to me like a bare house. Not spare--I've gotten used to spare-- but bare. 

I told my husband I didn't know how long I could live like this. (A bit of drama never hurts!)

And then I pulled back. Of course, I can live like this, for as long as it takes. I just don't want to!

What is hard is not that our home no longer feels like our home, it is the suffering I cause myself by holding onto my expectations and my attachments of what is supposed to happen and when it is supposed to happen.

More Lessons to Learn
During this in between time, I've been exploring my ability to wait and be patient and have been trying to grow those qualities within myself. I think I have grown.  

Clearly, however, it is time to get out the heavy machinery and dig deeper. It is time to uncover what else I need to explore. 

Several times these recent days I have sat quietly, reverently and asked Spirit to help me identify what else I am to learn. Unfortunately, when I open my eyes after meditation time, no neon sign floats down from the living room ceiling with the magic word blazing.  

And then.... One morning when I was waiting for a spiritual directee to arrive, I started thinking about how it takes trust to commit to the spiritual direction process. The directee trusts that what is said will be received with an open and wise heart, and the director trusts that what the directee needs will be offered. Both trust that Spirit will be present.  

Opening to Trust
Trust. A magic word. Do I truly trust that eventually we will be able to move forward in our plan? Do I trust that when the time is right the buyers will appear and we will sell our house and then find a new home just right for us? 

What happens if we do all this and we still don't sell the house?

Well, we'll do something else. We'll figure it out. We just need to trust that it will happen. 

My focus on patience and active waiting has been comforting, for it means I can do something. The doing, which includes all the staging efforts and the constant attending to the daily appearance of our house, is limited, however, if underneath I don't deepen my trust that all will be well. I need to broaden my trust to include a quiet awareness that I am not alone and instead, am a being in partnership with something far bigger than myself. 

Trust, it seems to me, is a form of letting go. 

Therefore, when we come to an intersection where the sight lines are limited and where it is difficult to see around and through and over, we do what we can and then we trust and move forward. 

An Invitation
Dear Reader, no doubt you are sick of reading about our house being for sale, but I hope you translate our current challenge to whatever transitions or stalemate is showing up in your life. I hope my ongoing attempt to deepen my spirituality encourages you to examine your own struggles and to harvest trust in your own life. I welcome your comments.     

Gabriel, Mary and Me, A Spiritual Invitation to Trust and The Spiritual Gift of Imagination posted by Nancy L. Agneberg

     March 25th is the day in the church year set aside to honor the day of the annunciation--the day the angel Gabriel announced to Mary the incarnation of Christ. This post is based on an  essay I wrote several years ago about that event.

First the scripture:

     The angel Gabriel was sent from God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth to a young woman named Mary; she was engaged to a man named Joseph, of the house of David. Upon arriving, the angel said to Mary, "Rejoice, highly favored one! God is with you! Blessed are you among women!"

     Mary was deeply troubled by these words and wondered what the angel's greeting meant. The angel went on to say to her, "Don't be afraid, Mary. You have found favor with God. You'll conceive and bear a son, and give him the name Jesus--'Deliverance.' His dignity will be great, and he will be called the Only Begotten of God. God will give Jesus the judgment seat of David, his ancestor, to rule over the house of Jacob forever, and his reign wil never end."

     Mary said to the angel, "How can this be, since I have never been with a man?"

     The angel answered her, "The Holy Spirit will come upon you and the power of the Most High will overshadow you--hence the offspring to be born will be called the Holy One of God. Know too that Elizabeth, your kinswoman, has conceived a child in her old age; she who was thought to be infertile is now in her sixth month. Nothing is impossible with God."

     Mary said, "I am the servant of God. Let it be done to me as you say."
     With that, the angel left her.  

                              Luke 1: 26-38, 

                                             The Inclusive New Testament, 

                                             Priests for Equality

     I've given my adult children most of their books from childhood, but in the stack of Christmas books there is one favorite I intend to keep: The Nativity, illustrated by Julie Vivas. Mary is really pregnant in these pastel drawings, and I mean really pregnant. You see and feel Joseph's effort as he helps Mary get on the donkey, just as you see the strain in the donkey's expression. I chuckle at the raggedy nature of the characters--quite the contrast to the serene, beatific look of more typical religious art. For example, there's Gabriel with his red, spiky hair and untied, oversized work boots. Gabriel, whose jaggedy, frayed wings were jet-size, compared to his scrawny body. 
     Gabriel and Mary sit at her kitchen table, drinking coffee out of cracked everyday mugs and from Mary's "Who me?" expression and Gabriel's intense leaning forward over the top of the table, you can tell this is no casual "What's happening?" conversation.
     Usually when I read or hear the annunciation story I focus on Mary, her initial shock and amazement and her ultimate faithfulness. But Gabriel intrigues me, and I want to know about the angel who was "sent from God." Gabriel is not described in the Biblical text, but the news he brings makes it quite clear that God needed a trusted colleague to do the job. 
      So who is this Gabriel?
     Many of the angels encountered in the pages of the Bible are not given names. For example, the angel who stretched out his hand to destroy Jerusalem in 2 Samuel is unnamed, as is the angel who spoke to Moses on Mt Sinai and the angels who rolled away the stone from the entrance to Jesus' tomb as told in Matthew.
     But this is Gabriel, one of the archangels, which means he is a messenger of God, a figure in all three of the Abrahamic traditions, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. He first appears in the book of Daniel in the Hebrew Bible, and later he foretold the births of both John the Baptist and Jesus in the Christian testament and Muslims believe he was the medium through which God revealed the Qu'an to Mohammed.
     This is a big deal angel.
     According to Judaism, Gabriel was also the voice that told Noah to gather the animals before the flood and was the invisible force that prevented Abraham from slaying Isaac and who wrestled with Jacob and finally, was the voice of the burning bush. Many in the Christian tradition believe that Gabriel appeared to Joseph in a dream, confirming what Mary had told him about being with child, thanks to the Holy Spirit, and then later, according to tradition, although not named, Gabriel was the angel who appeared to the shepherds telling them to follow the star and find a babe in the manger. This is an angel who is in the middle of the action.
     Gabriel's Journey 
    In this story, the story of Gabriel's meeting with Mary, it is his movements that frame the story, and I am intrigued by the phrase "upon arriving," which implies to me a journey. Gabriel traveled from the left hand of God to Mary's house. I wonder about the journey--what he saw and experienced along the way, what stops he made, what other messages, though perhaps not as momentous, he might have delivered as long as he was in the neighborhood. Did he make a wrong turn and did he need to stop and ask for directions, presuming, of course, there was not some sort of strange angel code preventing an admission of being lost? Did he get stiff and need to stretch his legs and have a cup of coffee before the last turn into Nazareth? Did any fellow travelers sense the presence of an angel and because of a smile or greeting from Gabriel feel more energy for the journey, feel less discouraged about the detour or the traffic? I wonder if Gabriel has ever been in the McDonalds line behind me at a rest stop on Interstate 80 as I drove from Ohio to Minnesota.
     How did Gabriel feel about the message he was to deliver? Did he say to God, "Whatever you say, I'm on it, even though it sounds a little strange." Or did Gabriel protest, "Oh, God, but I'm busy right now. I don't have time for this trip, and I certainly don't want to go to Nazareth." Did Gabriel need time to think about what he was going to say to Mary?
    I understand the need for time. I well remember trips to Minnesota when the 14 hour drive was just what I needed to prepare myself for what I thought might be needed from me upon my arrival. The time when my father had had a heart attack and was awaiting triple bypass surgery. The first time I would see my mother following her diagnosis of a recurrence of colon cancer, and when I went to see my dear friend Mary in critical condition in the hospital following surgery for ovarian cancer. I needed the transition those hours in the car offered me. In fact, while driving to Minnesota just weeks before my mother died I planned what I would say at her funeral. I invited words and images to come to me and through my tears, mile after mile, I spoke aloud what I might say to share my mother's spirit and my love for her. Perhaps Gabriel had slipped into the passenger seat when I stopped for gas and was my invisible listener. I can understand even Gabriel might have needed time, transition time, to think about how to deliver the news. 
     Did he consider saying, "Hi, I'm Gabriel, an angel of God, and have I got news for you. God wants you to know you are special, but that doesn't mean you get off easy. Here's the deal."? I wonder if Gabriel had a Plan B in mind, in case Mary waved her broom and said, "Shush, go away." 
     I am comforted imagining that perhaps even Gabriel felt daunted by what he was about to do, for how often have I thought, "Me? No, I can't do that. I'm not smart enough, wise enough, good enough." Perhaps other angels had been sent to other Marys who when presented with the 'good news' had said, "Not me," and slammed the door. Perhaps Gabriel himself had been on the other side of the slammed door, and he didn't want to mess up this time. He was determined to bring God news of his success. "She'll do it."
     Meeting Mary
     Gabriel did find the right Mary. This Mary agreed. Not that she wasn't amazed, even "deeply troubled," but I am rushing the story. First, Gabriel greets her, flatters her. "Blessed are you among women." Instead of being taken in with such compliments, for Mary is, in fact, no dummy, she is "troubled by these words and wondered what the angel's greeting meant." Perhaps to stir up his own courage he urges Mary not to be afraid and then tells her the news. Nope, he doesn't ask her, "Hey, Mary, how would you like to be the mother of God?" Instead, Gabriel tells her the plan, using his carefully practiced words, "You'll conceive and bear a son and give him the name Jesus. Deliverance. His dignity will be great, and he will be called the only Begotten son of God. God will give Jesus the judgment seat of David, his ancestor, to rule over the house of Jacob forever, and his reign will never end." I imagine Gabriel spilling all that out in one breath and then quickly looking down into his coffee mug and taking a long swig. "Now I've done it," he thinks to himself.
     This is amazing news. 
     The only begotten of God? Rule over the House of Jacob? Forever? But that's not what Mary focuses on. She seems to understand the result, the outcome. Her son the son of God. That she seems to get, but instead she questions the conception. She is concerned about the process. "How can this be, since I have never been with a man?" 
     And it is in the process where I get stuck so often, too. When I knew my mother didn't have long to live, I wanted to know what the steps would be along the way. How much time does she have? Will there be lots of pain? And more than that, I wanted to be reassured that I would know what to do and that I was capable of doing whatever was asked of me and needed from me. It all seemed more than I could bear. How can this be? 
     Luke says, "The angel answered her. " I love that. Gabriel actually responds to her question. Perhaps not clearly, not completely, not in a way she can fully understand, but he doesn't say, "None of your business. don't ask. Just listen and accept." In fact, Gabriel even tells her a bit about the process. "The power of the Most High will overshadow you." Not that that makes anything clearer, but there is some reassurance that Gabriel seems to know how things are going to work. "There is a way, trust me."
     Then, almost without taking a breath, Gabriel jumps into more astonishing news: Mary's kinswoman Elizabeth is having a baby , too, even though she is old, too old. Perhaps Gabriel wants to gloss over the "overshadow you" business and thinks this additional news will trick Mary into not thinking about herself. But perhaps Gabriel is saying, "Yours is not the only miracle. There are other miracles, others who are experiencing major surprises, even dilemmas in their lives. You are not the only one. Nothing is impossible with God."
    Asking the Question and Listening for an Answer
    But here's where the story really becomes Mary's. Not only does she ask the tough question, but she stayed at the table and listened to Gabriel's answer. How often do we ask a hard question, the essential question, but then before the answer is even offered, reject it, and walk away?
    It was one of those perfect summer days at the Chautauqua Institution in upstate New York, warm, but not too hot; the sun was shining, and there was just enough breeze to prevent sweat from forming on your forehead. A large group had gathered in the afternoon to listen to an Episcopalian priest talk about spiritual practices; tools to help us grow closer to God and to understand who God created us to be. The talk itself was thought-provoking and inspiring, but the question and answer period was even more stimulating. An older gentleman went to the microphone and eloquently asked about how to get through the pain, go through and beyond the pain. He was obviously suffering emotionally, spiritually, perhaps even physically, too. He took a huge risk, exposing his vulnerability in front of this large group of strangers, but the audience sat in respectful, even awesome quiet, awaiting the speaker's response. I could see the speaker physically gather herself together, having listened with the ears of her heart and wanting to offer encouraging wisdom for him. She prepared to be his Gabriel, but the man who dared to ask, did not dare to listen. As she began to respond to him and his pain, he walked away from the microphone, turning away from this angel of the moment. By the time he got to his seat, the next person was asking a question. The opportunity, the encounter, was over.
    My family dared to ask the tough questions and then to listen carefully to answers, the guidelines and markers, our hospice nurse explained about the dying process. We were grateful, indeed, but we also listened to the promptings of Gabriel, for it was in the daily miracles that we drew our strength.  The miracle of many more days of quality living for Mom than what we imagined. The miracle of the birth of her first great grandchild, Maren, bringing life as we anticipated death. The miracle of family standing together supporting and loving each other every step of the way. The miracle of Mom's last words, "I am so blessed."
    Truly, "Nothing is impossible with God."
    Mary listened to Gabriel's answer and then responded with faith and trust and strength and self-confidence, too. "I am the servant of God. Let it be done to me as you say." Can't you just hear Gabriel's sigh of relief? "Great. Check that job off the list. No need to disappoint God."  
    "With that, the angel left her."