Looking back now on my Return to Joy experience with the Clergy Renewal Program, I feel like it was a deep pruning.
After 20 years of ministry fruiting, the Gardener said, “It’s time to prune that branch.”
Of course, pruning has happened in different seasons of my life, but never like this. The Lilly Renewal Grant afforded me the possibility to literally be cut off from my work. For 14 weeks straight, I didn’t think about or do anything related to my work. Not even email.
Instead of work, I played.
I gave myself to things that make my heart sing. I cycled coast to coast.
I traveled Europe. I spent undivided time with my family.
I said yes more than no.
Instead of work, I rested.
I slept well. I ate well. I had new conversations with my boys.
I set my mind on the pleasant; not the urgent.
At first, the pruning was difficult.
There’s a lot of me invested in my work.
Who am I when the work part of me is cut off?
As the pruning began, I encountered some pain.
A conflict in a close relationship.
Pangs of a certain kind of loneliness.
Tendonitis in my ankle.
I remember thinking: This is not a good start.
But the Gardener persisted.
In the first few weeks, he cut away the dead wood in me.
Splinters of my identity fell to the ground.
He gently exposed the tender green shoots of my heart.
And then…He revealed His.
JOY
Over the course of the next months, my heavenly Father revealed His favor for me.
Lavishly.
Deeply.
Joyfully.
Each endeavor
Every environment
Echoed with the Father’s hearty laughter and eternal YES.
Yes, I want you to rest from your work.
Yes, I know exactly what you like—even the quirky and seemingly silly things unique to you.
Yes, do that!
Yes…do it again! Here, have another helping of my joy in who you are.
Yes, it’s true—I delight in you, not the work you do.
Yes, enjoy my favor for you.
FRUITFULNESS
I’m grateful for this pruning.
The Great Gardener has pared with precision and grace
The parts of my identity that needed cut away
So that a new level of fruitfulness might emerge.
In the right season, I’m confident this fruitfulness will come
While not at this particular restaurant, Steph and I did some fine dining on our own just the two of us and I caught these foodie smiles on my low res iPhone. Happy.
With only a few days to explore what we could of Paris, we had to make choices. One day was given to the Tour de France. Using my 1992 trip as a general guide, we used the other days to explore the art and architecture of Paris; visiting as many sites and museums as possible. Like Notre Dame, for instance.
The old cityscape is like no other.
At the Louvre...
In the evening we saw the City of Lights in all her glory.
Attempting to take a family photo in front of the tower was no easy task with thousands of others trying to do the same. We asked a kind bystander to photograph us. The good news is that she got the shot--only with our Asian neighbors too.
No trip to Paris is complete without seeing the Eiffel Tower up close and personal. We added to our European stair climbing count another 690 steps up to the 2nd floor observation area. Great weather, great views, great family.
Jean Christophe Peraud is an old man like me. Despite this fact, the frenchman took 2nd place in this year's Tour de France next to Vincenzo Nibali; beating out his 24 year old countrymen, Thibaut Pinot, by a little more than minute. The day before the Tour arrived in Paris, Peraud overcame an ill-fated flat tire on the time trial course to narrowly retain his 2nd place position--a truly gutsy performance that makes men in their 40's proud.
And so it was that on his largely ceremonial ride into Paris and around the Champs Elysee circuit, he crashed when the Peloton waved out to avoid a bottle on the course. Had he been seriously injured or required more time to get back on bike, he could have lost his podium position. However, his teammates came to his rescue and pulled him back into position with the peloton; ensuring his place. Steph shot these photos as Peraud and Team AG2R Modial race him back to the peloton. Peraud is the beleaguered, bloody and slightly out of focus one on the end (see last photo).
On the next lap when they fully reached the peloton, we caught a classy Alejandro Valverde from Team Moviestar welcoming Jean Christophe and Team AG2R back to the pack. We heard later that the whole peloton slowed to allow his re-entry. Chivalry is not dead.
The Yellow Jersey and overall winner Vincenzo Nibali heads for the finish.
Rich Porte makes a courageous move with one lap to go.
But by the next lap the sprinters move to the front to position themselves for the final kilometer. Notice Team Giant coming on quick getting their man Marcel Kittel to the front. The second photo just has his face coming into view to the far left.
But just as quickly his competition rounds the last corner. Peter Sagan (green Cannondale) and Alexander Kristoff (red Katusha). Interestingly, Kristoff is Norwegian and the boisterous crowd of characters on the corner in the background are his. They marked their territory by lining it with many kegs of beer which they drank all day. I found out later that for the last few years this crew has followed him throughout the tours grabbing the best corner spots along the way. Go Viking spirit!
Alas, Kittel would just edge out Kristoff and Sagan in a spectacular sprint finish, which we heard but could not see since we were 1.5 kilometers from the finish. Even so, the crowds, the competition, the spectacle--what a joy!
Without having actually planned it and to our delight, the Tour de France and the Tour de Johns ended the same weekend in Paris. Accordingly, we ventured out to Rue de Rivoli and staked out a corner spot on the barricade across from the Tuileries Palace and the Louvre where the riders would pass us 9 times on the Champs Elysee circuit to end the Tour. It was a long, hot wait, but the tour did not disappoint. We passed the time by sending the kids to get food and water and by getting know the delightful British couples next to us who left their teenagers back home so they could come to Paris for the tour! (hmm, they may be on to something).
Steph loved the two photos I shot of Nicolas Roach (green Tinkoff jersey) passing by and catching sight of the Arc de Triomphe down the course just beyond Place de la Concorde. It's like he was in his own world for one delightfully candid instant. We happened to capture that moment and share his joy.
We spent a couple hours at the American Cemetery overlooking Omaha beach. We wandered through the exhibition hall which both contextualizes and personalizes D-Day within WWII. Then we meandered through the cemetery grounds full of the iconic white memorial crosses over each grave. We all found the experience very moving, and in a certain way, necessary. I don't want to give the impression that our Normandy Experience was rueful and somehow inconsistent with a Return to Joy. In fact, it wasn't. Having an opportunity to look intently at these hard things gave way not to grimness, but gratitude. Joy rises out of gratitude for the good things around us. It is a good thing Hitler's rule did not continue unabated for another decade. Such visits help us access the joy that comes through finding the seed of good amid the horrors of war.
The Omaha Beach landing was more fierce and bloody than was Utah beach. More than 2400 lives were lost as resistance was stronger and the landing was off-target due to tidal currents; causing men and machines to be lost at sea. Even still, the American led force captured the beach, pushed inland toward their objectives, and engineered harbors and roads to supply the troops as the allied liberation force moved inevitably toward Germany and its surrender 11 months later.
On the beach, we contemplate this place on June 6, 1944. As this sand absorbed so much blood, so we try to absorb the impact of the Omaha beach landing on the world as we know it.
We build a small rock memorial to mark the moment.
We leave the beach and ascend the same bluff as did the allied forces many years ago, toward the American Cemetery which now sits atop it--the final resting place of 9000 American soldiers.
Pont du Hoc is a high cliff between Omaha and Utah beach. The Germans fortified it as a part of their "Atlantic Wall" with guns that could hit both beaches. The task of taking this cliff and neutralizing the weapons there was given to several battalions of Army Rangers under the command Lt. Col. James Earl Rudder. The success or failure of their mission meant a great deal to the landings at Omaha and Utah, to say the least. As it turned out, (against the odds) these men took the cliff under great hardship and spent several days enduring withering counter-attacks by the 914th German Grenadier Regiment before they achieved victory. 225+ Rangers began the assault. When reinforcements arrived only 90 were alive or could bear arms. In 1984, President Reagan gave a memorial speech to the survivors here that is regarded as one of his finest.
The Pillbox (gun casement) as it looked in 1944 and as it does today.The boys exploring the underground bunkers and tunnels in the dark, wondering what if must a felt like to be a German soldier enduring the bombardment and knowing Allied forces were scaling the cliffs to attack your position.
Like many memorials we visited, the serenity and beauty today belies the horror and suffering of D-Day+. Of all the memorials we visited, Pont du Hoc has a very tangible connection to the past. The vast top of this cliff area is like a lunar landscape. Massively steep and deep bomb craters pockmark the plateau. All the remains of the concrete embankments and casements are still there albeit battered and broken. Only the brambles and brush growing out of the them remind one of the years that have passed and the normalcy that eventually arises even after a war of this sort.
Inspecting a German gun positioned over the beach-head.Utah Beach landing site. Below, an old WWII era truck rumbles across the beach much as it might have after the landing in 1944.
We were one of 3 million people this year who will visit the Mont Saint Michel monastery in northwestern France. This World Heritage site has seen pilgrims come and go since the 8th century. The structure is set on an island 600 meters from the mainland and for centuries was only accessible during low tides when pilgrims could walk across the mud flats. It so happened that the week we visited was unprecedented in Mont St Michel's long history. A controversial bridge connecting it to the mainland was just opened for visitors after 3 years of construction. The views below are from the approach to the island. An amazing site that just appears on the horizon.
Pont du Raz is virtually the western-most point of France and its rocky outcrop is a popular destination not unlike that of "Lands End" in Britain. Apparently, it's one of the most visited sites in France. We enjoyed nearly a whole day hiking around the area and cautiously making our way out to the point--or least as far as we dared high above the rocky cliffs.
The amazing azure sky and sea were breath-taking. Even more, somehow under a clear blue sky, an isolated bank of fog rolled in while we there. We waited it out before heading farther out toward the point on the rocks.
In the fog...In the clear...Looking back...Our rhythm is to travel out to see a sight each day...or not. Then we make our way back to Quinquis sometimes stopping for dinner and sometimes making our own meal at home. On this night, we ate at a small cafe and returned home full and fully sunburned.
Here, Steph inadvertently steps out into my shot; ready to go to the market. Most every morning begins with a walk down to the Boulangerie to buy our freshly baked bread for the day. Happily, we've discovered on Wednesdays they also make some wonderfully addictive Beignets (donuts) which I've not had since my first and only visit to New Orleans several years ago. People are generally patient with our lack of language, but they do tend to keep speaking anyway as if we might understand. We do best with numbers and pointing-please-and-thank-you type of conversations. My high school German classes don't do much for me here.
If a picture is worth a 1000 words, this one probably best describes our nearly 2 weeks stay in northwestern Brittany "Breton" France. A beautiful maison, village farmers markets selling fresh products and time to sit around the table under a canopy and enjoy the goodness together when not reading or playing. Très bon.
