Awake

“Everything is a gift.
The degree to which we are awake to this truth
is a measure of our gratefulness,
and gratefulness is a measure of our aliveness.”

― David Steindl-Rast

 

 

As I may have mentioned in a previous post or two, I can’t swim. It’s probably my biggest regret. It’s also embarrassing; I’m 61 years old and truth be told I don’t even like getting my face wet in the shower.

So, deciding to finally do something about it, I signed up for an adult swim class. The class meets on Tuesday evenings which is fine. It is sandwiched between two kids’ classes, which isn’t so fine. Having little kids watch as I sputter around in the shallow end of the pool is a little humiliating. The teachers are very patient, but they’re young – I have socks older than them. Even if I don’t learn to swim, I will have learned humility.

And then there’s the water. I realized at the end of the last class that I’ve always viewed the water as an enemy – an enemy just waiting for a chance to kill me! Not a very helpful attitude when you’re trying to learn to swim. I’m afraid because I can’t control the water, so I work against it, trying to hold it at bay. I never give myself completely to the water.

Then I realized something else: what if I looked at the water as a friend, as a partner working to hold me up instead of working to kill me? What if I treated this experience as a gift rather than an exercise in fear? Would I be more trusting, more relaxed?

I mentioned this thought to my spiritual director the next day and she felt it might be an idea worth pursuing, and not just in the context of swimming. How would our lives change if we could look at everything as a gift?

It’s a tall order, I know, especially in the midst of a global pandemic. But, even with Covid-19 raging, there are still blessings to be found. There has been more family time. The environment has been able to catch its breath. The pace of life has slowed, allowing more time for reflection. That’s not to downplay the devastating effects of the virus; my heart grieves for those who have lost loved ones.

But, I can’t help but be reminded of a book by Henri Nouwen, With Open Hands, where he writes about coming to God with clenched fists:

“To pray means to open your hands before God. It means slowly relaxing the tension which squeezes your hands together and accepting your existence with an increasing readiness, not as a possession to defend, but as a gift to receive.”

What gifts can we receive if we just unclench our fists? What if we unclench our fists when we encounter our “enemies”? Might we discover that those with whom we disagree are also gifts? And might we not also become gifts for them? It’s something to think about.

When I get in the water my body becomes one big clenched fist and I sink. My goal is to try and relax before tomorrow’s swim class. I’m going to try and see the water as a gift and not as an enemy. Most importantly, I’m going to try and be awake to all the gifts God puts in my life.

I’ll let you know next week how it goes.

God bless. Breathe. Open.