Several years ago I attended a weekend “retreat” of sorts for women. It was not so much a retreat as it was a rite of initiation. It was called the “Woman Within” and it was a formative time for me. While not “christian” by design many of the principles were right in line with my faith and that was important. At the same time I was also moved by a number of the principles which were not strictly “christian.” I’ve long been drawn to Native American thought lines and this weekend borrowed strongly from this at times. I didn’t feel that it was against my religion to listen for God in the middle of this. It felt right. It was a safe place and I did some very good, strong and deep “work” there. God led me to that place and it’s set the stage, honestly for the deep moments of joy I have shared with Him since that time. It has made me a stronger follower of Jesus and for that I am eternally grateful.
The hard part came after the work. I was led to a soft, warm place where a very nice woman awaited. I had just gone through a very tough piece of soul work and this was a place apart from the “carpet work” room where I was meant to just…I dunno…emote, I guess. It was called the Nurture Corner although it wasn’t in a corner at all…more like a hallway. It was laden with soft comforters and tissues and bottled water and this nice mature lady presided over it all. It was all very….um, nurturing. Sadly, I was not able to really engage this part of me. I had not yet discovered this very good truth that to be vulnerable in safe places meant that I was restored, rather than humiliated. I didn’t know what “nurturing” in it’s very best context meant.
I did know that I could not be coerced into being nurtured. I had to actually allow that to happen. I had to submit to it. At that moment, I chose not to submit. I just sat there in the near dark with this nice person I did not know and waited til it seemed as though it had been “long enough” to be nurtured. Then I high tailed it out of there and moved on to the next thing.
When I returned home I felt some regret for this. I felt that I really ought to have given my full attention to that process and given myself over to it. In retrospect though, now 14 years later I understand this more deeply. I know now that my choice was probably a good one. It was the right choice at that moment.
As a mother of 4 now, I’m faced with this again, daily. What does it mean to be nurtured and to nurture. I muddle through. I think I do alright but there does seem to always be this sort of wall made of jello that comes between me and whomever I come into contact with. I press through and it presses back. I think, I am still not aware to the feminine, nurturing face of God. I’m always shocked at how adverse we Western Christians are to this idea…the idea that God is not “male” by default but rather a perfect mix of both masculine and feminine.
When I have spoken of this to fellow travelers on this Jesus road, especially FEMALE travelers from my era or earlier I am greeted with a lot of quizzical looks and downright suspicion. I wonder why it is that we cannot embrace the nurturing feminine from God? I suppose centuries of the male dominated mindset will do that to us but still, it is a shame that I feel so outside the circle and so unable to find mentoring in this.
Ironically, I hear the best stuff about this from a couple of male, theologian type friends of mine. This is comforting (read: nurturing) to me and at the same time it brings me sadness. I have prayed for many many years for God to bring a strong woman of God who sees things from all sides to mentor me and so far, I have not recognized anyone. I say, recognized because it is entirely possible that she stands before me and I have not had eyes to see or ears to hear. So, recently I’ve changed the prayer to my being ready and able to submit to this mentoring. In this way, perhaps I will see this tremendous woman when I meet her and I will recognize her through the dust when she opens Scriptures to me as on the road to Emmaus.
