There is a farm south of Saskatoon and the name posted on the barn is risk and hope. It has been there for 110 years. I am struck by how appropriate the name is for a farm. You cannot farm, you cannot dare to plant and hope to harvest, without taking a risk. The risk of planting at the right time to get rain, or the right time to avoid a plague of insects or trusting that the frost has really past. And then watching all spring to the fall to see if the crop will make it, to see what will be present to harvest, and what weather is going to even enable you to get the harvest done.
There is a vulnerability to farming. There is a certain strength found in being vulnerable. It feels like vulnerability and strength are opposites, but I believe vulnerability is itself a strength. We have encountered others who seem to have navigated more challenges than ourselves, and who just keep putting one foot after the other and keep going. Not without pain, and not without grief. While being brave enough to witness through tears and other expressions of vulnerability as they keep moving. Even at those times when they have to stop and rest for awhile and they are honest about that too. I do not know when society decided tears are a sign of weakness instead of strength, but let us get over that.
I had to go look up the word vulnerable: susceptible to physical or emotional attack or harm. In Mariette terms it is the same as living life to the full. You cannot enter into relationships with other or use your gifts in service, without opening yourself up to pain and loss. You cannot age with integrity and embrace the challenges of life without being vulnerable.
As I serve an older population, vulnerability is a challenging concept. Are we willing to accept help, to be vulnerable, when we cannot do things ourselves like we used to? Are we willing to be vulnerable with our ego and use the things that we need like depends? Are we willing to admit how much it hurts when we lose a loved one? Are we willing to say these simple words, “I need help”? Or “can you come with me”?
Can you see another way to living life to the full without vulnerability? I am not good at it, but I see no other way.
Relationships change, at times in our lives we are the care giver, at other times we receive care. All demanding a vulnerable heart, for in that exchange is life, and whether you are the foot washer or the recipient of that washing, in that vulnerable space is real love.
Now and Then 