The Endurance Race and Nomadic Rest Stops

I am sitting in the middle of potatoes and cows: Idaho, that is. Twin Falls, at Uncle Dwight's, is the latest nomadic rest stop for the Kozinskis. We're here because our house is not ready for us, and relatives were coming to stay at Orcas; so off island we went, stopping to visit dear friends in Seattle (hours with true friends, with whom you can be yourself, are little 'splashes' of joy) and to attend a Byzantine Catholic Divine liturgy: this was another splash of joy, particularly because the Divine Liturgy is oriented towards heaven.

I have always felt most at home in the Divine Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom. His feast day is my birthday, and though I'm no Golden Mouth, I love the liturgy he passed on to the Eastern Christians. It reminds me of the quiet, mysterious Greek churches of my childhood heart, and the times in Russia, when I was a young woman listening to a choir singing across the river, from inside a building that points to heaven, being almost brought there, the gold and light and very air around me singing with the human voices.

As I sat on Sunday in the Divine Liturgy, in the midst of our nomadic life, I felt as if I was in a field, in that slanting golden light, and I was looking across towards the mountains, waiting; waiting, but peaceful. After the Eucharist I found that my soul was no longer looking out, waiting, but with her Guest. I have never felt so rested except in an Eastern rite; like the sense of place, it speaks to me in unspoken ways because of who I am, the little pieces of colored glass that are my experiences, and make up my ability to receive easily--or not.

But now, as in most moments, I am in a foreign land, on a journey. A loving friend of mine and I used to talk about looking forward, someday, to 'soft landings' but I think now, more and more, that a permanent soft landing is not possible in this life.

However, the soft landings we do have are places of retreat that God provides--it can be your 'prayer hood' or that quiet place in the soul that St. Mary MacKillop went to ride out times of stress, or feasting with loving friends, or the beauty of liturgy, or a retreat house like this one provided for us in Idaho, the home that my Aunt Barbara and Uncle Dwight have made so restful, and beautiful...and we get to enjoy it alone for a week before heading back up into the mountains for more moving fun.

This life is overall, a race of endurance, a test, a means for us to choose Love or to choose Self; to choose to trust through darkness, or to scramble for comfort and oblivion. Oblivion tempts me sometimes.

I am thinking about this now, in the middle of potato fields, because yesterday I found out that an acquaintance, a family friend of mine from college, who has heroically struggled with no less than five bouts of cancer  has died. I remember Kenon when she was first married, just finished with her second battle and wearing a wig, sitting in Santa Barbara Community Church, bravely smiling, bravely embarking on a life out of death. Then years later, after she and her husband adopted three children, another battle...and she took that fight and became a comforter and advocate of kids with cancer; then recently, another bout which she lost on July 16. Kenon, saddled with the stress and pain of constant returning death, lived a more full life than many. Like Jane Austen, who was severely limited by opportunity and money and prejudice, and disease, Kenon created some Great Works of lasting beauty: not novels, but works of love. I know she would say it was all through the power of Christ. She was a walking example of endurance, of running the race with courage. She was even brave enough to face the feelings of betrayal: How can God do this to me, especially if I am trying to trust Him?

Here is a video of Kenon, a few years ago, talking about the "Barrier of Betrayal":

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R6f8Q5y0CqQ&sns=em

And here are some more recent words of Kenon:

"I am very blessed by the presence of dear friends and family in our lives as we walk a new portion of a 25 year old road. Diagnosed at age 21 with Hodgkin's Disease, 23 with a recurrence, 26 with myelodysplasia and had a BMT, and 40 with breast cancer... I thank God for my life so far. Twenty-five years later, I am enormously grateful to have more than doubled my life, been married to a truly remarkable man and had the joy of being mamma to three amazing, talented and loving children. God has shown Himself faithful in a multitude of ways. Graciously, He often lets me "peek behind the curtain" to see how His ways are working out for my best and His Glory. What a privilege!

I do not know what this season of life will hold, or how long it will last. My greatest hope is that all will be used for God's glory, that the body of Christ will be strengthened and that none will give in to "the betrayal barrier." I would be very honored if you would speak of the goodness of God and celebrate His faithfulness with me.

Thank you for your prayers as I enter battle #5. May nothing be wasted in the journey toward true life and wholeness."

Her husband, Matt, writes two days before she dies:

"As Paul writes in II Cor. 5:2 "For indeed in this house we groan, longing to be clothed with our dwelling from heaven." V 1: "For we know that if the earthly tent which is our house is torn down, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." Shedding the mortal coil is never easy, we groan and groan and groan, but GOD is building Kenon an everlasting house that will fit her beautifully."

And as we pray for a beautiful soul and her family who ran the race well, we also pray for those in Gaza who are enduring so much.

Any of that makes potatoes or perhaps cow patties of anything I'm going through; but as a weaker soul, I know the value of the example of bravery given us by those who go before.