Holding Onto Emptiness

These passages from Nouwen on hospitality seem so perfect that I feel like it almost takes something away from them to comment.  I think they are just wonderful.

But that makes for a pretty boring blog post.

So I'll say that the line that jumps out and touches me in this particular moment is when Nouwen says "Once we give up our desire to be fulfilled, we can offer emptiness to others."

It never really seems like emptiness is something we should be proud to offer, or that someone else would ever want to receive.  But as I take some time to dwell in that sentence and what it means, I find it utterly compelling.  It makes me think of my nun.

I have a spiritual director who is a Sister of Mercy affiliated with St. Joseph's College.  Once a month I drive out to Standish to sit in her living room and spend 90 minutes or so talking about my life.  I went and visited with her this past Friday morning, and one of the questions she asked me was why I came to see her; why did I want a spiritual director?

By now you all may have learned that I am a verbal processor, and so I tend to ramble a bit before getting around to answering questions.  Ultimately, I told her that I visit with her because she always leads me back to love.  She gently, patiently reminds me that if I center myself in the love of God, then anxieties slip away and my deepest authenticity emerges.

But as I read this sentence from Nouwen, I think I also go to see Sister Sylvia because she offers me emptiness.  Her living room, her presence is a place empty of expectations and that is an unbelievably liberating place to be.

I realized this week that when I leave Sister Sylvia's for the lengthy drive back to Portland, I never listen to the radio.  I'm an NPR addict who is always looking for something to occupy my mind, but on my drives back from Standish, my mind feels emptied out in the best possible way.  I don't want the radio to fill it back up again.  Sometimes I'll even take a long meandering drive up around Sebago Lake to try and hold onto that emptiness.

It's counter-intuitive, but true.  In my experience, emptiness is a profound gift to receive.