Unexpected Love
I never really shared about my trip to Assisi, Italy back in July. I didn't post about it or share pictures because it was 100% not what I expected-mostly because it included my biggest tragedy of the year. But as I reflected over the past year, I realized that it was one of the most pivotal moments I experienced in 2019.
I went to Assisi for a meditation retreat. I'm a Christian and I pray regularly, but I really didn't practice meditation until the end of 2018. And I sucked at it. Sitting still and trying to get my brain to cooperate was like trying to tame a spider monkey who'd had 30 espressos. It just wanted to jump sporadically all over the place, grabbing onto any and every thought I had. SO. I decided I wanted to get better at it and what better way to work on it than in Italy!? Granted, I'm pretty sure I'd love learning anything as long
The retreat was meant to be a partial silent retreat, which I was also fascinated to try. I like putting myself in VERYdifferent circumstances just to see what happens. As the long-winded individual I am, I couldn't think of anything more difficult than having to shut my mouth for long stretches of time.
I arrived in Assisi after an easy flight and blissful 3 hour train ride. Assisi is a city on a hill-and the birthplace of St. Francis. There is a certain peace that winds through the steep, cobblestone streets that I felt immediately. I got in a taxi and headed straight to the first meditation, which I ended up being late for. I walked into 14 smiling, silent faces and we settled in for our first group meditation, which led right into a silent dinner. It was glorious. A heavenly view with white doves (literally!) swooping all around us at sunset. Slowly, people drifted off to bed as they finished their meals.
The next morning, our first full day in Assisi, we started with meditation that led to a silent, meditative walk to the birthplace of St. Francis. After that, we were supposed to have free time where I would've gotten to finally meet some of the people on the retreat. As we were concluding our time at St. Francis's childhood home, my phone pinged and I saw it was a text from my mom that just said "Call me. It's urgent." Adrenaline immediately surged through my body. Was it my grandparents? My dad? My siblings? An accident? I called her as we all walked out to the piazza and she told me that my sweet Aunt Laura had passed away the night before. Death is never easy, but this was completely unexpected. She was 54--so young! She has an 18 year old son! Laura??? MY Laura???? It had to be a mistake. I was completely unaware that in the process of hearing the news, I’d lowered myself to the ground and was now sobbing pretty hard in the middle of the piazza.
I couldn't think straight as I got off the phone. I had no idea where our hotel even was, as I'd assumed I'd just hang out with people afterwards. I stood half trying to wander in the right direction and half trying to pull up the address on my phone, when I hear, "Alright, love?" in a British accent. It was one of the women from the retreat. I shook my head and tried to explain, but I was still gulping sobs. She immediately wrapped an arm around me and directed me back to the hotel. Once there, she got me water and a banana as I called more family. She then went and found the leader of the retreat for me so I could figure out how to get home.
Word spread through those 14 strangers. I was the only American and the rest were from all over the world-England, Norway, Africa, Australia...and these complete strangers took care of me. I've never experienced a tragedy that far from home and I can't explain how wrong my body felt that I couldn't hug my grandma and grandpa or dad and mom or comfort my siblings. I had to settle hearing their voices break over the phone-and I couldn't even talk to them for the first half of each day because of the time difference. Yet these strangers stepped in. This is going to sound weird, but they gave me so much eye contact. Not in an intense or weird way, but in a way that I noticed and felt every single time I was with any of them. A way that said "I see you. You are suffering. I am here for you. Take your time. It's ok to be right where you are, feeling all this pain."
For the rest of my time there I was met by pure acceptance. Acceptance that looked like a reassuring squeeze on the arm or a hug, a gift of a lavender filled pillow for comfort, a gelato, an ear for an hour or two so I could talk about how beautiful my Aunt Laura was. Remember, these people were *complete* strangers. As in, I was surprised by whichever accent came out each time someone came to me with words of comfort. It was a tragic, beautiful, bizarre, overwhelming few days.
When I was finally able to catch a flight and return home, I realized how profound the experience I'd just had really was. It made me reflect on how we typically respond to people who don't look like us or sound like us. Our natural inclination is to gravitate towards those who match our race, age, and socioeconomic status. What I'm finding is the more different a person is from me, the more dazzling I discover them to be. The more I engage with them, the more light they cast on who I am and how I can grow. In a world where we seem to move quickly away from the unknown, unrecognizable and uncharted-what if we drew closer? Opened our hearts, hands, eyes and lives and made space. The truth I'm walking into 2020 with is that making space in my life for people who don't look like me adds more to my life. More joy. More perspective. More beauty. Who among us wants to miss out on that?
