The moment of true realization that I sincerely and desperately needed my upcoming Renewal Leave happened where all good epiphanies tend to land on the American population... the Target checkout lane. Don't judge me. You know it's true.
So, I
was checking out at Target one night picking up some last minutes items for
Fiona’s 1st grade field day and for whatever reason (I feel guilty and sightly embarrassed that I go there so often) I felt the need to
explain my purchase to the Target cashier.
“I’m picking up some things for my
daughter’s field day,” I said, half expecting her to come around the
counter, look me deep in the eyes and tell me what a fabulous mother I was and how
fortunate my daughter was to have such a loving and attentive mother. She did not do this. Instead,
the cashier, looking heavy and worn from her days shift, began to tell me how
much field days had meant to her and how in 3rd grade she even won a
ribbon for the long jump and she was pretty sure she still had it in her
possession.
Without saying it out loud, ("Thank you Jesus"), the thought
immediately popped into my mind, “She should save that ribbon for her funeral.” This, in retrospect, was an involuntary, yet inappropriate association. We were not planning her memorial, she was healthy and young and will probably live many more decades, possibly going on to win the Olympic Gold Medal in the Long Jump after feeling a renewed sense of calling and confidence from our conversation. However life altering this conversation most likely was for the Target cashier, it was this close call to being physically removed and prohibited from ever entering another Target store for the rest of my life however that I knew, I needed a Renewal Leave.
Obviously, I needed a break to stop planning healthy stranger funerals without their request. But I also needed a break
from the balance of motherhood and ministry. I needed a respite from tragic
news and staff transitions, from grant deadlines and moving expectations. I
needed a space to be thirty-four, to be mom, to be wife, to be me. At the point of my almost-arrest-for-an-accidental-murder-threat my Renewal Leave had already been approved and my husband and I had already begun planning it's contents. I would spend lots of time at yoga, run a half marathon, go away for a romantic couples weekend, have a margarita on a restaurant patio and take Fiona to all our favorite parks. I was looking forward to my time of Renewal as just that; time to reconnect to myself and my family in a way that would probably mirror a the-hills-are-alive type of magical.
Here is a list of things I did not do on my Renewal Leave: spend lots of time at yoga, run a half marathon, go away for a couples romantic weekend, and have a margarita on a restaurant patio. There was however a point during my Leave that a colleague, also beginning their Renewal Leave, posted on Facebook that they were "signing off so they could reconnect to their soul" and blah, blah, blah I stopped reading because all I wanted to do was punch through that computer screen in a jealous, angry rage. I know and I have an explanation. I spent the first few weeks of my Renewal Leave wondering why God wasn't showing up and rescuing me so I could follow my plan and RENEW. Instead I found myself dragging an anxious kid to the hospital, interviewing schools suggested by therapists, and learning to cook with ingredients that I'm pretty sure cost more than if you just ate plain gold. I learned that sometimes the things that make our kids special can also make the world feel like someone just opened up a 1,000 piece puzzle box and threw it on the floor and told them they couldn't come out until they put it together. And I didn't want her to be in that room alone.
Joining her in that room meant no yoga or romantic getaway or medal from a half marathon I was obviously going to win and it meant sitting and waiting and wrestling with the utter helplessness a parent feels when they can do nothing but be present. Social stress that popped up at the end of the school year had evolved into nightly migraines over the summer and nothing we did seemed to answer the why they were happening or present a how they could stop. I felt frantic and desperate and drowning under the pressure to Renew with this great gift of time that had been given to me. There was a moment, sitting on the edge of the bed watching my daughter squirm and groan with a pillow over her face, that the thought popped into my mind, "this is what God must feel like, every day, every moment, utter helplessness and constant presence, sitting in our dark rooms, waiting for storms that brew and burst in our souls to calm and pass." I imagine God wishes so much to rescue us, to save us from our pain, and instead God gives us the greatest and most valuable gift we could ever be given; a reliable presence while we live through our nights and awaken to moments of soft light and gentle breeze and reminders that this too shall pass.
Logically it makes absolutely no sense how I would have renewed over those six weeks. I didn't think God was going to show up. More like God expected me to exit from the realities of life; that God would be waiting in the quiet corner of an abandoned park and if I didn't leave everything behind and show up then God was freaking out of there. God doesn't have time for NO SHOWS(!) and wading in that deep sea with my daughter I was sure that's exactly what I was doing. Not intellectually, of course, but emotionally it felt very real that God would have much better things to do than wait around for me to turn off social media, figure out my kids health issues, and 'put God first'. Except God showed up at my door with a gluten-free casserole, a sweet puppy dog, and the Director of a new school and my heart split open and overflowed with gratitude and sorrow and joy at that mid-day visitation. In that dark room God showed up and handed me a candle and some matches, took our hands, and waited for our great departure into the new normal that is now our life.
Completely unexpectedly (and also slightly annoyingly because I like to know everything) I found Renewal in God's partnership in my own helplessness. In not being able to do anything but walk with my daughter through this time and in the rediscovery that God too works in this way; Waiting with us, Walking with us, Looking on. The beauty of God’s presence in our lives is as mysterious as it is overwhelming. It filled me up beyond what any monkish-renewal plan could have done. All it took was the reluctant and rather unwilling trust that the moment I was in is exactly where I need to be; the place where God draws us close and breaths into us so that we might stand and see exactly where we are with both acceptance and hope. There is beauty in the complicity of this present moment; the Spirit conspiring on our behalf if only we trust in the belief that God is God and we are Loved. God never walks in and turns on the lights or storms out and slams the door. To think I could have done anything but rest in the reality of all that surrounded me and know that God would renew my soul only meant the need for a leave was more real than I even knew. 