The last seven weeks of my life have been like no other, and they have included unearthing treasure among other things. On Good Friday we began the process of taking over finances, legalities, and material stuff to support my parents with their lives. They let us know that they found a place, and they were ready to move to assisted-living.
We’ve been living a multi-chaptered story with daily surprises over these last seven weeks. I do luuuuv one of those stories where someone buys a house or rents an apartment and finds a hidden treasure. But this is not exactly one of those stories. Although in truth we found a some bits of 14 karat gold and some silver that we didn’t know existed. So there has been a bit of fun.
But I would say more of the treasure I’ve found has been in my own psyche and heart. When you dig through your parent’s attics, basements or garages, you’re also digging through your own unconscious history. The same could be said for people who find themselves unearthing treasures at the church house, school library, or an archaeological dig.
History… Again with Feeling
History comes floating up in the form of letters from old girlfriends and report cards with unexpected grades. From pictures of your great great grandparents and other relatives. You may even find treasures from your relatives’ Southern Baptist churches, in the ledgers of carefully kept expenses, or in scrap books about the Queen of England. I’ve seen all of this and much more. I could fill up ten more blog posts with lists of all the history that has passed through my hands in the last seven weeks.
But let me return to my own psyche and heart. This digging through the boxes and bags and closets and chests produced every possible emotion. Sadness and joy. Disgust (see also bugs, mold, and one black snake), but also delight in the treasures my parents saved that my brother and I gave to them. Photos of my own child on the day of her birth. A letter from an angry pastor who totally neglected all wisdom and pastoral imagination to exact harm. So many feelings.
One surprise was the 1/4 measuring cup I’ve been missing for several years. It was a great mystery: Why did I have two 1/3 cups at home and NO 1/4 cup? Mystery solved. Measuring cup found. Now the set will be reunited. It’s the simple things sometimes that are easiest to treasure.
Many of the feelings rising out of this history have been free-floating. Easy to grab out of thin air. On days when I leave the house, which we are preparing for an estate sale, I find myself yelling at traffic and occasionally being short with my own beloved child or husband. The free floating anger is the biggest and most pervasive feeling.
Determination
I am also stricken by a sense of determination to go home and throw away things I don’t need or want. Stuff that inertia has just left languishing in boxes. Conference papers and notebooks from classes not ever consulted again, Christmas cards by the box full. Travel mementos and fodder for scrapbooks I will never make. These things should bring joy in the moment and then be left to the recycling bin. But I tend to hang onto sentimental things. Do you relate?
What does my learning in this situation of digging through history and free floating feelings have to say about the practice of ministry? Are there any gems or gold among the dust and boxes?
Pastoral Treasure
First, I would say there is a pastoral treasure in these last seven weeks. Something like this reminder: The people you encounter in your ministry are so much more than what you see on the surface. I know that sounds obvious or maybe even trite. But when you dig through and unearth the treasures of someone’s life you see just how complex, multi-dimensional, tragic, and delightful they are. They are people who experience successes and traumas. Excruciating pains and isolation along side of joys, wins, romance, and celebrations. To remember this when we approach the people in our care makes us better pastors to them.
Heart Treasure
The second treasure is a theological truth about contemplative practice. The stuff — or as I called it once for Passport Camps following the lead of my friend and founder of Passport, Colleen Burroughs — the “katundu” (“baggage, junk, stuff” in Chichewa) of our lives which can weigh us down. When we hang on to lots of things, they literally take up physical space. And when we store our treasures in the attics, basements, and garages of our minds and hearts, they can take up mental and emotional space that weighs us down spiritually.
Jesus said, Where your treasure is there will your heart be also (Luke 12:34). And when we put our heart in the garage or the attic or the basement instead of in the living room, kitchen, or dining table of our lives and our homes, we become distracted and burdened rather than present and free to respond to the moment. To accumulate wisdom does not always mean to have more things. It certainly means to have some important and treasured things. But not perhaps ALL the things.
Future Treasure
The final treasure is a family one. As you make a life, think about what you are accumulating not simply for yourself but for the generations that come after you. Try to imagine at least three or maybe seven generations beyond yourself. What will they do with these things? How will it impact their lives? How will it impact the earth itself? Will it be a treasure or will it be a burden or will it be nothing at all? This is a hard question to ask ourselves. But when we can ask in love not judgment, we extend compassion beyond our immediate life into the lives that follow ours.
One of my favorite concepts to teach to my seminary students, and a concept I address in Pastoral Imagination is future stories. I learned about them reading the work of my friend and fellow pastoral theologian, Andrew Lester. We are certainly shaped by our past and the stories we tell to ourselves about the past and what we think they mean. Yet we are also shaped by the stories we tell to ourselves about the future.
What future story can you tell yourself about your family and the treasures you will leave for them? Might you consider an ethical will that leaves values, beliefs, and stories rather than more things? That might be the real treasure. Unearthing and sharing the treasure that lasts, the love, mercy, joy, compassion, and grace that is ours already? Yes, that might be what we all could use a little more of these days.
