"How would you feel about making Anglican rosaries with me?"
That's how it all started. That simple invitation on the part of Sister Linda broke something open for me, and I'm still learning the implications of what was set into motion in that moment.
I was on my aspirant visit to the Order of Saint Helena. This was a two week long visit where I stayed in the convent with the sisters (as opposed to staying in the Guest House) and I met with each of the sisters in a series of "getting to know you" interviews. Linda emailed me early on, and we set a time to meet together to make Anglican rosaries.
I should mention at this point that until this moment with Linda, I had no idea there was such a thing as an Anglican rosary. And I certainly had never made any rosaries before, whether of the Anglican variety or not. I had no idea what to expect. I tend to only try things that I sense I'll be competent enough to figure out quickly. But having never done beadwork before, I had no clue if I could pick it up quickly or easily. I was trying to make a good first impression, however, so if Linda wanted to make rosaries with me, then that's what we would do.
I showed up on our assigned morning in the refectory (dining area) and there among the supplies sat Linda with a warm and welcoming grin. She had beads of differing color, material, and size. There was wax-coated string and scissors and clear fingernail polish and grapefruit spoons, of whose purpose I was terribly confused. Finally there were two meal trays set out on opposite sides of the table from each other with hand towels draped across them. These were to be our work stations.
I took my seat with a bashful smile, but as we started, my shyness melted away under Linda's warmth. She explained what's different about the Anglican rosary. She told me about the beads and their numerical symbolism. She shared some tricks on how to make the rosaries in an easier, more efficient way. And she explained why in the world those grapefruit spoons were there! (They help you pick up the very small beads called "seed beads" and put them back in their tube containers at the end.)
With our crash course in Anglican rosaries and their creation over with, Linda helped me pick out my first round of beads and a cross. I cut my first wax-coated string, slid my cross into the center, and away we went.
That morning stands out in my mind, not only as the day I first learned about Anglican rosaries, but as the day I began the formation of what would become one of my dearest friendships in the community. You see, while I had showed up thinking I would learn about rosaries, Linda had showed up thinking she would learn more about who I am. She wanted to get to know me. The rosaries were just her avenue of doing so.
Before I knew it, as I settled into the pattern of stringing beads, I found myself opening up about my life and upbringing. Linda laughed along with me as I regaled her with stories, pausing every so often to answer a quick question or help me in whatever stage I was on in the rosary making process. We swapped stories and reminisced about our childhoods and lives outside of the convent. But mostly, we laughed. My goodness, did we laugh.
Before I knew it, I had two rosaries done and our morning was over. It was time to move on to the next agenda item for the day. As I've reflected on this morning getting to know Linda through those beads, I've made an amazing and seemingly contradictory discovery. When you slow down, when you take your time and become fully present to the moment you are in and the person you are with, time passes so very quickly.
Slowing down is hard. We tend to flit to and fro from one activity and meeting to another never really settling in one place too long. But that day with Linda making rosaries, I did just that. I settled. Physically, yes, I didn't move from my spot at the table. But I also settled mentally. I was totally present to Linda, and she was present to me. We both slowed down and matched each other's pace so that we could fully be with each other.
When I think of slowing down and being present, I think of Linda. I think of her wit and humor and kindness. But I also think of her uncanny ability to just notice. This comes through most poignantly in her walks in nature. Since joining the community, Linda and I have taken many walks together, especially down a road we fondly have nicknamed "Gooseberry Lane." I tend to watch my feet and what is directly in front of me. But Linda sees so much more. She notices the changes in the flowers and trees and makes note of how they are doing. I believe she is able to notice these things that I take for granted because she has fostered a sense of slowing down.
Slowing down is an internal practice. It is a noticing of and attending to both others and our environments. Linda does this, and I hope to continue growing in my ability to slow down too. There are things that help me to do this. I often call them prayer practices, and I suppose that they are that. But they are prayer practices that actually work for me because they foster a slowing down of my heart and mind.
So these days, I make rosaries. I paint. I make collages. I crochet. Not because I am a significantly creative individual, but because it helps me to slow down. In learning beside Linda how to be attentive, I am beginning to create an air of settled-ness that is not exclusive to these times of creating.
I encourage you to slow down. To notice what and who is around you. To be fully present. To breathe in, and out again. To feel the fullness of that breath and let go of the stress you carry in your body.
The amazing thing that you will find... or at least, the amazing thing that I am finding... is that if we slow down and become present, we just might discover that God has been there the whole time. Linda has taught me that. When she notices the little yellow flowers budding on the roadside, she notices the God who creates those flowers. When she notices the owl calling in the treetops, she notices the God who gave that bird its voice. When she notices the rainbow painting the sky in lovely hues, she notices the God who hung it there. And when she notices me, when she notices my hands fumbling with my first set of beads and my furrowed brow while putting together my first collage, she notices the God who made and keeps and loves me.
Linda isn't the only one to have fostered this practice. You and I can practice slowing down as well. So I hope that today you'll take the time to slow down. I hope you'll take the time to notice, even if only for a moment. Who knows? Perhaps you'll see God's fingerprints on that moment.
Comments