The last two posts from Catalysts for Change have to do with repetition and patience. After reading them this morning, I opened the rest of my mail and found a friend had sent me a column which preached on the virtues of the monastic cell.
I opened the column with interest, because I am living a bit of a monastic life at the moment. But upon reading it, I found my hackles going up: always a good thing to explore!
I do believe that there are lessons to be learned wherever we find ourselves -- even (and sometimes especially) in a very narrowly circumscribed existence. I cannot extrapolate from that, however, that to leave that cell -- especially the particular cell of housewife and mother that he talks about -- would of necessity be bad. My suspicion is that this writer, who shall remain nameless, would also object to those of us who begin to find the church a bit confining to our growing faiths.
Repetition is good, but repetition will never make a wrong thought right, even though it may hammer resistance into hiding. Patience is also good, but sometimes it is only the mask of co-dependence, or low self esteem, enabling the continuation of constraint or abuse.
Which, I suspect, is why this photo sang to me this morning. I see the rusting ferry on the right as a sort of burned-out safe haven. It's probably very stable, and it floats, but there is nothing left to feed you, and it can no longer carry you to shore. Yes, the smaller boat is scary, and, yes, those who are sailing can probably only see the fog, not the clear sky beyond. But there may come a time when we have to embark on a solo and courageous journey if we are ever to hope of returning to home port...