Pressure that'll drip, drip, drip...
Navigating self-disconnection
At the beginning of the Covid pandemic I wrote these words in The Sacred Pulse: “In the beginning, there was connection.” From the moment we were created, we were touched by the hand of the Almighty. We experienced a rush of wind into our lungs as God drew near to us. The first problem of creation—the first thing that was not good—was that there was no one just like Adam for Adam to find connection with. This was why God made Eve: because it is not good for us to go through life alone.
When I originally wrote this statement, so many people around the world were feeling disconnected. In an attempt at taking care of our neighbors and our own health and well-being, we stayed away from each other. We disconnected because we valued our connection to each other.
Even when we came back together—gathering in stores and schools and churches for the first time in months—we were divided from one another. Perhaps we felt anxious as we confronted the trauma of separation from each other. Maybe we felt angry because in our separation, we learned things about each other’s viewpoints that we struggled to deal with. Even when we were no longer physically separated, we remained disconnected from each other.
One of the most difficult parts of 2024 for me has been the growing realization that I am disconnected from myself. Many days, I live exclusively in the anxious part of my brain and am not living in my body, if that makes any sense. This disembodied lifestyle is exhausting, and it also further removes me from the connection I was created to need. The Covid pandemic isolated us from each other, but in these days and years on this side of the pandemic, I have found myself isolated even from myself. In speaking with a few close colleagues, I have discovered I am not alone in this. If you have felt this way at all, please know you are not alone.
In the movie Encanto, Luisa Madrigal—the physically strong, female family member who holds things together (quite literally sometimes)— sings the song “Surface Pressure.” This song, in my opinion, is one of the best songs in the movie. Luisa sings:
I'm the strong one, I'm not nervous
I'm as tough as the crust of the Earth is
I move mountains, I move churches
And I glow, 'cause I know what my worth is
I don't ask how hard the work is
Got a rough indestructible surface
Diamonds and platinum, I find 'em, I flatten 'em
I take what I'm handed, I break what's demanded
Luisa is strong on the outside. She can lift things that would crush others. Yet, it is the unrelenting expectation of inner strength placed on her by herself and others that is more than she can carry. She continues in the song:
But under the surface, I feel berserk as a tightrope walker in a three-ring circus
Under the surface, was Hercules ever like, "Yo, I don't wanna fight Cerberus?"
Under the surface, I'm pretty sure I'm worthless if I can't be of service
A flaw or a crack, the straw in the stack
That breaks the camel's back, what breaks the camel's back?It's pressure like a drip, drip, drip that'll never stop, whoa
Pressure that'll tip, tip, tip 'til you just go pop, whoa, oh, oh
Give it to your sister, your sister's older
Give her all the heavy things we can't shoulder
Who am I if I can't run with the ball?
Who am I if I can’t keep shouldering the weight? It’s not just that the weight is more than she can carry, it’s that she doesn’t know who she is without the weight. Carrying the burdens all on her own has become the way she defines herself. Who is she without the weight?
I am reminded of Queen Esther. Quite often we focus on the verse that says, “Who knows? Perhaps you have come to royal dignity for just such a time as this” (Esther 4:14b). We focus on Esther’s need to do the hard thing—the challenging thing that is squarely on her shoulders. We hone in on this verse and we tell each other, “If there’s a hard thing in front of you, perhaps this moment is what you were made for.” We say it to be encouraging, but interpreting the verse in this way reinforces the individualism and disconnection that is eating away at the fabric of our society, and at the fabric of the church.
Esther knows she isn’t in this by herself. She replies to Mordecai, “Go, gather all the Jews to be found in Susa, and hold a fast on my behalf, and neither eat nor drink for three days, night or day. I and my maids will also fast as you do. After that I will go to the king, though it is against the law; and if I perish, I perish.”
Gather the community. Join me in fasting and praying. Focus on this with me. Perhaps together we can carry this burden that is too much for one person. And after all is said and done, if my effort is not enough, I’m willing to accept that.
In the beginning, there was connection, but connection does start within us. I love how Henri Nouwen writes about community.
However, community is first of all a quality of the heart. It grows from the spiritual knowledge that we are alive not for ourselves but for one another.
Community is the fruit of our capacity to make the interests of others more important than our own. The question, therefore, is not 'How can we make community?' but, 'How can we develop and nurture giving hearts?'
So, how do we begin to reconnect to ourselves and then to others? I do not claim to be an expert as this is something I’m navigating in real time, but I have a couple of initial thoughts.
We have to speak the truth about our disconnection. This might look like sharing with a therapist, confiding in a trusted friend, or reaching out to someone who is going through a similar time. I know this is scary, but the answer to disconnection is connection. We have to take the risk of telling the truth. “I feel disconnected from others and from myself, and this disconnection is difficult for me.” Let people know what you need.
Make time to reconnect with your surroundings. Take a walk, but don’t just move your body; engage your senses. Go through all five senses and ask yourself which of these are activated as you walk. The sight of the blue sky. The smell of the neighbors charcoal grill. The touch of tree leaves brushing your skin as you walk by. The sound of the birds. Invite yourself to be curious. “I wonder what kind of bird sings that song?” or “I wonder if the neighbors enjoy grilling. Maybe I’ll ask them sometime.”
Lower your expectations for what you will “produce” during this time. Disconnection is exhausting. It’s OK if you aren’t reading as many books right now, or you have to ask someone for help now and then. It’s OK if you take that free afternoon and take a nap instead of crossing things off of your list. Your primary goal is reconnecting to yourself, and that means listening to your body telling you what it needs.
Friends, it took time for us to disconnect from ourselves and others; it will take time to re-connect and to heal. In the meantime, let’s be gentle with ourselves and patient with each other.
The Coffee Table
I haven’t done as much reading these days, but I’m beginning to do more writing. At the moment, I’m working on a 7-day devotional download that I’ll make available to you as soon as I finish it. During some writing time this week, I noticed my teabag was giving me all kinds of inspiration. It says: “Accept who you are in this moment, but acknowledge who you want to become.”
Out of curiosity: My last 7-day devotional download was about hope in uncertain times. What devotionals topics would you like me to consider writing about in the future?
The Communion Table
World Communion Sunday is this Sunday (October 6)! One of my favorite things about World Communion Sunday is the gathering of all the varieties of breads. People in my church bring all kinds of breads. We decorate the communion table with the breads, and then we use the breads for a sandwich luncheon after church.
In 2021, I wrote this prayer for World Communion Sunday:
A Prayer for the Weary on World Communion Sunday
O Lord,
we have gathered here on this day
in this place
to gather around your worldwide table.
We gather in weariness,
carrying burdens and griefs,
fatigue and worry,
heartache and disillusionment.
Gather us in like a mother hen.
Hold us close in your protective and tender hand.
Draw near to us, your brokenhearted people,
and mend us, Lord.
We gather in bitterness,
bringing with us grudges and resentments,
misdirected anger and ill wishes,
a spirit of divisiveness and contention.
Embrace us like a forgiving parent.
Meet our rough places with your overwhelming grace.
Offer us your water of wholeness and restoration,
and mend us, Lord.
We gather in cautious hopefulness,
longing to push beyond the cynicism and hopelessness
of endless months of struggle.
Holy Spirit, open our eyes to the places where
life springs up new,
to the hearts you are transforming,
to the gilded trees and crimson leaves on the sidewalks
reminding us that you have not given up on change,
even when we have.
Awaken our guarded hearts,
and mend us, Lord.
Invite us to your worldwide table, generous God.
Draw us in, burdens and all.
Receive us as we are, we pray,
and renew us,
fill us,
mend us.
With our siblings around the world,
we have gathered here, hungry.
Would you meet us once again?
Amen.
--written by Rev. April Fiet
Permission is given to use this prayer personally or in worship.
Or, if you’re looking for a litany for World Communion Sunday that is inclusive of all ages, this litany by Glenys Nellist may be just the thing. It goes with her children’s book Gathered at the Table.
The Dining and Craft Tables
Whew. We’ve covered a lot already in this month’s newsletter. Rather than stretch this out soooo long we all lose interest, I’ll do some bullet points.
*Picture 1: Longhorn cows at the annual Harvest Festival. This festival is so much fun as you can learn about traditional methods of harvesting crops and even harvest your own potatoes.
*Picture 2: At youth group, we made lamps! This was such a fun project. This was our inspiration, but we changed it up a little. We used plastic bowls and vases and painted with acrylic paint. Once the paint dried, we hot glued fairy lights to the inside of the dome, or we just placed the string of lights in the vase and glued the on/off switch where we could reach it.
*Picture 3: We made personal pizzas using this crust recipe for knock-off Pizza Hut crust. I topped mine as a taco pizza. I didn’t use nearly as much oil in the pan as called for. I just brushed enough oil on to keep the dough from sticking.
*Picture 4: Do you have too many tomatoes or cherry tomatoes? Try some tomato butter! You can even freeze what you won’t use right away.
*Picture 5: My garden has produced so much squash! But, there’s only so much zucchini bread I can eat. This recipe for mexican-style roasted zucchini was a hit!
Dear friends, I’m so grateful for the connection I have with each one of you. Whether you are feeling disconnected or are finding the joy of connection in your life, I hope you know how much I appreciate you reading, commenting, and engaging with my writing.
The crisp chill of fall is on the breeze today, and the first few leaves are falling off of my ash tree. As they meander their way to the ground, I’m reminded that there is beauty in changing. There is hopefulness in letting go. There is new life in the release of what’s weighing us down. And there is joy in sharing these things together.
May you be well!
Until next month,
April
Even though I wrote this 7-day devotional in the early days of the COVID pandemic, I still return to it from time to time for a breath of hope in this chaotic world. If you are looking for some hope, you are invited to check out Whispers in the Wilderness: 7 Devotions of Hope for Uncertain Times.
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