Monday, April 22, 2013

A hermeneutic of exhaustion

The last few weeks have been draining — for the most part unbloggably so.  I have a half-dozen blog posts sitting in "draft" mode, all languishing not such much because of what I say but because of what I don't say.  There is something about trying to write around the various elephants that have taken up residence on my desk, are calling me on the phone, and stomping around my family that I find siphons energy and life away from my words.  That, and my clear sense that despite all the mess my pachyderms are making, my life hasn't in anyway been upended in the ways that many others' have been this week — or even that my life has been in past Aprils.

The ability to see consolation in times of chaos is one grace I find in the Examen.  It's not the grace of a pair of rose colored glasses, it is a set of spectacles that bring both joys and difficulties into clear focus.  There is something about being able to delineate both the joys and difficulties of a day one by one, laying each before God with gratitude or with the request for healing and solace, that keeps the two in proper tension.  Chaos does not swamp out the joys, but neither does joy tuck the chaos under the rug.

One thing I see clearly at the moment:  I'm tired.  Time to take off my rose spectacles and go to bed.


  1. Michelle, I appreciate this reflection very much as I have been accused of seeing life through rose-coloured glasses by various people. I don't think I'm unrealistic but I do think that it is a grace given to us by God - to be able to put things into perspective with gratitude, knowing that God is in all things and all circumstances.

  2. I like the wisdom of this post. I think being at peace means recognizing that we are going to always have both -- joys and difficulties.

  3. Grace. Peace. Prayers.