Tuesday's Attention #82
A Benediction of Sorts
A Benediction of Sorts
Two weekends ago, I traveled up to Rochelle, Virginia, with a friend I have known for half of my life, to a precious yellow home that stands as the welcome to acres upon acres of pastures. On the property live three humble souls who tend to the land, a garden, two cats, a flock of chickens, 6 water buffalo, and all the humans they welcome into their home. There’s an immense amount of love, care, and tending that goes into this place; it’s fitting that the name of the home and land is Benediction’s Farms.
A benediction is a blessing—an offering of care. At my graduation ceremony, each graduate received a 4x4 piece of paper with a Franciscan Benediction upon it, sending us out into the counseling field with the hope that we would be people who would choose to dive deep into the heart of the work… “May God bless you with anger at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people, so that you may work for justice, freedom, and peace.” Henri Nouwen was a writer and a minister who emphasized the value of blessings, as he saw them as a way to affirm another’s belovedness and as a reminder of belonging. The older he grew, the more he recognized the importance of benedictions upon those we come across. Kate Bowler is a professor at Duke Divinity who also hosts the podcast “Everything Happens,” inspired by her book Everything Happens for a Reason and Other Lies I Have Been Told, where she interviews people who have navigated the both/andness of life: the beauty and the suffering. At the end of each podcast episode, she shares a blessing she has written over her listeners. One of my favorites she has shared recently is a blessing for all the transitions:
Blessed are you, standing among the ruins of what was
Or the beginning of what might yet be.
In the transitions you hoped for and the ones you’ve endured.
Blessed are you when the decisions come slowly, painfully, when the voice inside grows louder and will not be ignored.
Blessed are you who trust that even when the path disappears, there is still ground beneath your feet.
May you find the courage to go when it’s time, the grace to stay when you must, and the friends who will hold you either way.
May we all be just a little more limintal-space tolerant.
Because as it turns out, this is not the end of your story.
It’s just the next day.
Like Kate Bowler, as she often discusses in her books and podcasts, my relationship to religion remains complex. I am grieved by the traditions that harm, the institutions that exclude, and the spaces where there is no room for gray. Benedictions, though, are a tradition of love, and they represent all that I behold as beautiful within religious traditions. There’s a tenderness and a warmth within a benediction. As a priest shares a benediction over the congregation, they have no idea what each individual’s days ahead hold, nor do they have any control. What they do have is an offering of care:
“May your days be…”
Filled with kindness, gentleness, and peace.
“Bless you who…”
Weeps.
“May love meet you…”
In your sorrow, questions, fear, and anger.
A benediction makes room for the grey; it speaks not to the specific circumstances, but to the individuals enduring or experiencing a vast array of circumstances. There is a vagueness to a benediction that also has the potential to meet someone specifically close to what is stirring up in their heart, mind, and world. As I read Kate’s blessing on transitions, I find great comfort that you and I can read and receive the words in profoundly different ways depending on whatever transition we are currently within throughout our days; yet, in the end, the words meet us both.
…
The whole weekend I spent at Beneciction’s Farms was an offering of care; an invitation to rest, to create, and to be. By 7:30 am, coffee was made and set for whoever rose early. By 8:30 am, Chrysee had made and set out a breakfast for 9. Before breakfast, Wade had already tended to his water buffalo. He checked on the mother and her baby calf, who were within their first few days together, and he ensured there was food for the other 4, as well. While Wade was with the water buffalo and Chrysee was in the kitchen, Joanne was with the chicken—specifically, she was with Louisa. Louisa was broody, meaning she was hoping and trying to incubate eggs. The farm didn’t have enough room for more chicks, and so Joanne had been caring for Lousia throughout her 21 days of being broody. Each morning, Joanne held Lousia in her crying out and angst about not being able to be with her eggs. She would then give her a bath to cool her body down. I got small glimpses of Wade and Joanne’s care for the animals on this land; they were most definitely leaving the beings with a benediction after each visit, if not in words than in their actions and tenderness. I didn’t know watching a man with his water buffalo could bring me to tears, but when you bear witness to the love that is shared from man to buffalo and buffalo to man, you cannot help but be deeply moved. I like to believe that the water buffalos leave him with a benediction, too, every time they walk down into the pasture and he walks up from the pasture and returns back into the yellow house. Bless you, dear one. You are beloved to me.
So with this, today, I leave you with a benediction of sorts:
Bless you, dear reader, in wherever these words find you. Bless you in this moment of pause as you take time to read. Bless you in your day ahead of loving, of working, of enduring. Bless you who are weary. Bless you in your anger, your fear, your deep grief.
May comfort meet you in the chalk drawings of a small child, in the paw of a gentle being, in the touch of a loved one’s hand, in a smile of a stranger. May love seep into your days and be the ground on which you walk. May the tears you sow grow a harvest more abundant than you could imagine. May self-hatred and shame fall beneath your feet, and may you walk into fields of grace. May you be brave enough to be soft enough to be like a child. May wonder fill your heart, and awe become a familiar state of being. May you know you are beloved.
Words I Have Been Paying Attention To:
Below is a poem by Paula Gordon Lepp that weaves beautifully into today’s attention theme.
GAS STATION COMMUNION
It was a little thing, really, this offer to fill my tire.
I was unscrewing the valve cap and heard a voice behind me,
"Here, I'll get that for you."
"Oh that's okay, I've got it," is what I normally say to such overtures, this knee-jerk reaction to refuse.
I am the one who offers to help, I am the one who serves.
Perhaps it was the eager spirit in his face or his brown eyes full of hopeful connection that caused me to say okay.
I felt the vibration of his unspoken benediction:
I can't do much for you, fellow weary traveler, but I can do this. Lay down your burden and I will carry it for a bit.
And I couldn't help but wonder how many times I have denied someone the blessing of serving
Prompts & Questions:
Write out a benediction of sorts for someone for a stranger that you crossed paths with today. Maybe you write one to the grocery clerk or the neighbor you barely know, or to the person in the car next to yours at the utterly long red light.
Go on a walk without your phone, if it is safe, and spend some time speaking quiet blessings over the birds, the tomato plant, the squirrels, and any other living being you cross paths with. Notice any tenderness that rises up within you. When you return home, create from that place of tenderness.
Think of someone whose friendship is a benediction of sorts to you. Write them a letter or send them a text letting them know the ways they bless you.
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Words for Your Week:
As you carry on into this week, may your days be filled with words that encourage you, laughter that heals you, and moments of beauty that pull your attention in and bring you to slow down.
May you know that you, yourself, are worth paying attention to.
One of the best gifts I have received is a linocut print my supervisor made me after constant conversations about blessing. It is a reminder of our need to be blessed and to bless