Continuing Rhythms

By Tammy McLeod, Harvard Chaplain for Cru, Director of College Ministry Park Street Church, coauthor of Hit Hard: One Family’s Journey of Letting Go of What Was – and Learning to Live Well with What Is.

“We do not learn from experience…we learn from reflecting on experience.”  John Dewey

Here in Massachusetts our governor just announced phase one of reopening.

It has been a long nine weeks at home, but as I have reflected upon the experience, I have loved a couple of new rhythms that I have developed…some rhythms of life I don’t want to lose.

Midday and Evening Rhythm

During the day my husband and I started to walk, talk, and pray with each other. I have enjoyed spending time with him, hearing how he is doing, and praying through our day together. This time has drawn us closer together as a couple and has given us a new way to bring our anxieties to God in prayer.

During the evening, my husband, son and I linger a long time at the table after our meal is over. I’m not a natural “lingerer,” but I’ve come to appreciate these unrushed conversations. It has drawn our family into a deeper relationship.

Bedtime Rhythm

My most consistent rhythm is one that I started 12 years ago and carried it through being sheltered-in-place. It is the ancient Christian practice called examen. It helps me be more attentive to God’s work in my life throughout each day. I pause at day’s end and record: What was life giving today? What was life thwarting? 

Examples from yesterday’s examen:

Life Giving: walking and talking with my husband and looking at the beauty of nature—blooming trees and flowers; hearing the top leader at our university and his wife share on a Zoom event how their faith helps them during this pandemic; reflecting on how God is speaking to me through talks, books, and conversations with people.

Reflecting on life-giving moments gives me the space to say thanks to God for large and small gifts he has given me throughout the day; it enables me to see God’s in-breaking hope which helps sustain me in ambiguous loss.

Photography by Bonnie Sanders