My friend Leon wrote an intriguing blog post today, musing about what listening to God might be—might always have been—about. He notes, “I’ve been trying to surrender my outcomes to God, to trust that God knows what God is doing, and in the midst of that struggle I know I was listening more intently.”
Me too! Me too. As the decade of my 40s has waned, I have felt driven (yes, like sheep or goats before the herder’s stick) to listen harder and keep remembering how little I control… that is, to hold the future lightly even as I continually walk into it.
Knowing the few things I do about Leon, I’m now also wondering:
what if this is the work of the (modern?) middle of life? Is this recurring focus of ours an inward sign of an outward reality? Childhood, young adulthood, those are done and gone, those lead boots shed. I have a better understanding of my center of gravity—where my weight balances—and from there I can reach, and step, and stretch with less fear of falling. Or: I know how far I can reach before I overbalance… and I can choose to trust God’s balance when I clearly see that mine won’t be enough.
Is this what we all do when we get this far, practice our balance?
The librarian for SHPC five, eight years ago (it’s an informal title; I hold it now) sponsored a seminar using Richard Rohr’s Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life. She offered it to the nearly- and newly-retired,
which is not me (and, I pray, not Leon-!), but is arguably me-adjacent.
Maybe it’s time for me to check it out from SHPC’s library.