In The Tent: Visitation's Way

Henri Nouwen, reflecting on the relationship between Mary and Elizabeth in his book "Sabbatical Journey", writes:

"...the two women who felt oppressed and isolated suddenly realize their greatness and are free to celebrate their blessing. The two of them become community. They need each other, just to be together and protect each other, support each other and affirm each other. They stay together for three months. Then each of them is ready to face her truth alone, without fear, willing to suffer the consequences of motherhood. I can hardly think about a better way to understand friendship, care and love than 'the way of the visitation'. In a world so full of shame and guilt, we need to visit each other and offer each other a safe place where we can claim our freedom and celebrate our gifts. We need to get away once in awhile from the suspicious voices and angry looks and be in a place where we are deeply understood and loved. Then we might be able to face the hostile world again, without fear and with new trust in our integrity."

Mary and Elizabeth, both pregnant in the most unbelievable and seemingly impossible situations, finding rest and safety and encouragement and strength in each other before the physical labor and birth of their babies. They were expectant. They prepared for their own births but also waited in expectation with each other. They honored what each had been through to bring them to this point, and sat, offering their presence and love, waiting and believing in what was to come for the other.

As I read this, I too was sitting, waiting. My best friend was in an emergency room, three thousand miles away, with severe abdominal pain. Fortunately, it was nothing too serious and she was home in a few hours. But the sitting and waiting was horrible. A fate worse than death when you're a "go-er" like I am. When you find out something is wrong with someone you care about, you go. You don't wait for a call, you don't wait to find out what's happening, you just go. But this night, I couldn't do that. So I did the next best thing, which was to sit up til all hours of the night and pray and wait for her to call. In some small way I felt like I was there, the gift of presence when you're three thousand miles away.

Mary and Elizabeth offered the gift of presence to each other as they prepared for their physical labor and birth. And then I thought about how so many I know are on a journey of a different kind. Birth, but of the emotional kind. The spiritual kind. Laboring through pain, woundedness, loss, towards something that is trying to be born. New life. Healing and freedom. Dreams. Letting go and receiving. Truth.

Labor is less painful and birth so much more joyful when it is shared. I have always believed, and do more than ever, in the gift of presence. Having a safe place for rest, shelter, comfort. Without fear or shame or guilt or judgment. I wish I could say that this is an easy gift to receive. For me, it is not. But I have learned, both the easy way and the hard way, that it is a gift to be treasured. Designed and given by God himself.

And it is priceless.

Comments

A powerful and redolent piece of writing which knowing you, and your friend, makes even more powerful for me. My prayer for you this New Year is that you will be pregnant with peace and joy and acceptance and laughter.

Posted by: Connie Knighton | January 04, 2006 at 09:14 PM