I have been thinking tonight, and it occurs to me after a very strange fashion, that this may be the darkest time of the year. Yes, in terms of the Earth's trip around the sun, we are now on our way back to long daylight hours and short dark nights. In the dusky hollow between Christmas and the new year though, many of us grow introspective, reflective, retrospective. We turn and look behind us at another 12 months gone by... slack-jawed, agape at the swift passage of time which has taken no notice of us as it dashes by, save perhaps to gray a hair, deepen a wrinkle, or add inches to young frames. It can make us melancholy, thinking of things left undone or unsaid. Wrongs not righted... goals not met... old times gone by. Meant-tos and should-haves. This is the time of year when we self-evaluate, make resolutions and simultaneously flog ourselves for falling short in the current year, while puffing ourselves up with great hopes for how spectacular we will be in the year ahead.
How do we get to this place every time? Well, to start with... it IS darker and colder. Our souls (and our bodies) would really appreciate it if we could make like a bear and crawl into a cave and wait for spring. (Goodbye Christmas, wake me when it's Easter!) We've all come off this family-friends-food-fun high that kicks us in the teeth when we find that it is over... our spirits seem to be in some sort of detox from the drug of conviviality and community. We've run ragged to every party, gathering, family function, school show, parade, company Christmas, reunion, potluck and shindig we can possibly cram into a month. We've shopped til we drop, or madly baked, cooked, created and crafted our gifts. We have compromised our health, our sleep, our waistlines and our wallets in the name of one big party that is increasingly lost on the celebrants. We've spent lots on things that maybe don't matter as much as the one thing we all need more of but can't ever get... time. We're tired of everything and thirsty for something more all at once. We are too much time out of joint, too much of the time.
The sense of the liturgical calendar is gone from our lives too, it seems. I know so many people that couldn't wait to get their Christmas decorations out before Thanksgiving... now, just a few days into the "Twelve Days of Christmas", they are all bemoaning what a chore it is that they must be taken down. Everyone is dreading the return to work, to school, to ordinary life. For them, the star in the East has already set. The shepherds have returned to the fields and flocks... the magi have gone home by another route. We get so caught up in preparing for the big party at the manger for weeks ahead of time, that we don't spend most of the 12 Days actually celebrating it. We don't wait for Epiphany to reveal the visions of the three kings. I have my guilty moments too... I used to leave the tree up somewhat unintentionally, but fairly consistently until February or March. Now I set a strict January 5th deadline. I know that the modern, progressive church does not necessarily set much store by a lot of seasonal/liturgical hoopla. Nor does the modern Christian very often either I suspect. That's okay... but I'm a bit of a medievalist on this score. I adore the changing seasons of the church calendar, and the natural calendar. I continue to the think about the words from Ecclesiastes, reminding us that there IS a season for everything, and a time for every purpose under heaven. I think about how that might benefit us, to reserve a little time for each part of our lives... the mundane, the extraordinary. The holy, the profane, the profound. The sacred and the secular. Some will disagree... but for myself, it gives meaning to things to think about them each in their own context, and as part of a cycle of continuation. It gives me hope in the dark days of winter... it gives me something else to look forward to, and a new season in which to dwell, reflect, and revel. I'm still celebrating Christmas, and you can't stop me!
My big resolution for 2010? To live a very full and rich life, with time set aside for each thing after it's own needs... including time for God... so that this time next year I'm feeling blessed and fulfilled, instead of wondering what I've done with another year.
Showing posts with label blathering. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blathering. Show all posts
Monday, December 28, 2009
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Get Out Of The Way...
I'm pondering how much, and how often, we get in our own way.
I think about all the times we're asked to do something, something that will be really good for us, or for those around us, and we get all tangled up in doubt and second-guessing ourselves and the circumstances. We make excuses that become self-fulfilling prophecies. I wonder if Noah would have had as much trouble moving on faith as many of us do, whether we would even be here to talk about it.
God, I suspect, has more patience with us than we often rightly deserve. Like a parent who can calmly and capably repeat themselves 100 times until their child gets it right, until they understand. I hope that I, and others, are listening to what is being said to us, and through us. I hope that I have the faith to keep trying as long as God will keep repeating those instructions, to do what is asked of me.
In this time of year when we're busily making way for all the trimmings and trappings of a 21st Century Christmas... and hopefully also for that precious Christ-child, I pray that we all remember that we are on assignment. We're on a mission to make a highway through the desert... through the barren places of our own spirituality, and the desolate places in the world... make a road that will take us right to the source of love and light if we let it. Each of us, one voice, crying in the wilderness. I believe that voice is one, but not alone. It was never alone. This path has been walked countless times by numberless souls. Prophets, shepherds, servants, magi, brave young girls, wise old men, fools, saints, sinners, dreamers... and maybe even Jesus himself. And the voice of God, there the whole time, was and is patiently, gently guiding us.
Listen. Try it again. Don't give up. This work can be done... you can make this path, though the hills, the valleys, the curved places. God does not give up on us. God does not grow weary. Stop. Redirect yourself. Get out of the way so that you can make God's way. In the wilderness of our souls then, the road will be straight, and the desert will bloom.
I think about all the times we're asked to do something, something that will be really good for us, or for those around us, and we get all tangled up in doubt and second-guessing ourselves and the circumstances. We make excuses that become self-fulfilling prophecies. I wonder if Noah would have had as much trouble moving on faith as many of us do, whether we would even be here to talk about it.
God, I suspect, has more patience with us than we often rightly deserve. Like a parent who can calmly and capably repeat themselves 100 times until their child gets it right, until they understand. I hope that I, and others, are listening to what is being said to us, and through us. I hope that I have the faith to keep trying as long as God will keep repeating those instructions, to do what is asked of me.
In this time of year when we're busily making way for all the trimmings and trappings of a 21st Century Christmas... and hopefully also for that precious Christ-child, I pray that we all remember that we are on assignment. We're on a mission to make a highway through the desert... through the barren places of our own spirituality, and the desolate places in the world... make a road that will take us right to the source of love and light if we let it. Each of us, one voice, crying in the wilderness. I believe that voice is one, but not alone. It was never alone. This path has been walked countless times by numberless souls. Prophets, shepherds, servants, magi, brave young girls, wise old men, fools, saints, sinners, dreamers... and maybe even Jesus himself. And the voice of God, there the whole time, was and is patiently, gently guiding us.
Listen. Try it again. Don't give up. This work can be done... you can make this path, though the hills, the valleys, the curved places. God does not give up on us. God does not grow weary. Stop. Redirect yourself. Get out of the way so that you can make God's way. In the wilderness of our souls then, the road will be straight, and the desert will bloom.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
In the Hub of Circle of Life...
I sit here tonight,(well, really, this morning, in point of fact) filled with a strange sense of the vastness, the miraculousness, and the fragility of life as we know it. In just a short few hours this evening, I have word that my cousin should be delivered of her daughter any moment, and that my friend's sister, who has been battling cancer for maybe 10 years now, and who had been in pallative care, has died. Here we live, on the needle-fine precipice, as soft as the breath in our nostrils, as fleeting as shooting star. Yet that space is filled with the immenseness of a lifetime's experiences. I have been in this place before... a juxtaposition of life and death that makes your head whip around with awe. How can it go so fast? There is a beauty in the realization of how delicate the balance is... each moment moves another grain through hourglass, a pennyweight from one side of the scale to the other... more beautiful still that we have no notion of the total amount being measured. We can only mark what is passed, and guess and hope at what is yet to be. We have to relish the now, and embrace these small hours because as I am being reminded tonight; the little space of our lives, the gift of it, and the joy of it, is in the uncertainty of it. That is what makes the gift precious. Yes, how strange it all is, and how frightening, and how perfect.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
An Inspiration...
Edit: I needed to preface this with "an Inspiration" ... to finally contribute to this blog I'd been invited to. Without further ado, then.
A conversation with a friend who lives far away, but is in a relationship unlike any she's ever been in before. She is a person who was raised in a strict Christian home, but rebeled against it. Suffice it to say she has lived a VERY wild life. He is a person who was raised in a religiously ambivilant household, but who, after his own wild period, 'got saved' by the same denomination she was raised in, but no longer adheres to. Got it? These two folks are really at cross purposes (ha).
So, she calls me all the time for relationship advice, and my husband too. I guess because we are a couple who's spiritual paths are somewhat divergent. Or maybe because she doesn't have anyone else to call. Who knows? Yesterday we were having this conversation specific to some disagreements they've had about a whole variety of things, many of them small. They, in their relationship building, have been doing a lot of talking about the "what-ifs" in their future. It sort of hit me like a bolt from the blue, in the midst of offering some sort of comforting words about it... I stopped and changed direction. It occured to me that she and he were really worked up about a lot of tiny details, and a lot of very unlikely what-ifs. I wondered "Did our grandparents have these kinds of conversations?" I don't know if it's the sanitized screen through which we view our ancestors, but I think not. In this age we live in, so full of technology, consumerism, and fear, we (and I mean most everyone in my peer group) build relationships in very funny ways. We are writing Disaster Recovery Plans for our relationships... but we aren't working on key components. We want to know what happens if there's a tiny blip in our relationship data, and how to fix it, but we don't understand any of the hardware or the software. We don't even account for the human element anymore. We want a plan, something to guide us and fall back on if there's an error. We want to know what it will cost and how long it will take and what the steps are. We don't even worry about not having the skills or equipment to deal with it. We want the plan, we want the guarantee. But relationships aren't about guarantees. Life is not about guarantees. Humans are fallible (just like the technology we turn to every day, created by us in our feeble attempt at godlike control) and so while we hope and pray for the best every day, sometimes it doesn't happen. We're not wired like a network, or a rack full of servers. We're NOT logical. We stumble, we make mistakes, we second-guess, step back, start over. Life throws us curves when we don't expect them. Things change, jobs change, people die, babies are born, and time marches on. We write those Disaster Recovery Plans for 100 scenarios, and the 101st, one that we never considered, comes in and completely destroys our hard drive.
Our culture of fear and consumerism and technology has brought us to a terrible impass with the very nature of mortal existance. There is no money-back guarantee on life. It doesn't come with instructions for assembly, or an FAQ that's easily understood. And while I believe that God is as present in our lives as we allow God to be, and while I pray regularly in times of doubt, or trouble, and in times of joy and upliftedness, very, VERY rarely is it like calling tech support:
"Oh, just push that big OFF button on the left side."
"Thanks God, I feel like an idiot for not thinking of that!"
"No problem, that's My job."
We just have to figure out, often by trial and error, what does and doesn't work. We have to look to our parents, grandparents, peers and experts for examples of what *might* work. (or in some cases, what definitely doesn't) There is no Disaster Recovery Plan for life. There isn't one for relationships either. Just focus on loving each other, on communicating with each other, on looking forward, on moving forward. I don't know what else to tell her. Until you have a server to store it on, stop focusing on the data.
I'd like to hope that one day, we'll all have the courage to face life, and build relationships by talking about our dreams, and our desires and our hopes... ...and stop talking about all our fears and wants and the minutiae of what might happen IF this one thing goes wrong. I think we all, on some level, want beauty. I want for the human heart to see the future like an impressionist painting... full of swirling color and fuzzy detail... it should be bright and alive and not completely rigid or 100% clear. It should NOT look like an architechtural drawing. I think there is beauty and hope in not knowing everything. Stop listening to sources that tell you otherwise.
A conversation with a friend who lives far away, but is in a relationship unlike any she's ever been in before. She is a person who was raised in a strict Christian home, but rebeled against it. Suffice it to say she has lived a VERY wild life. He is a person who was raised in a religiously ambivilant household, but who, after his own wild period, 'got saved' by the same denomination she was raised in, but no longer adheres to. Got it? These two folks are really at cross purposes (ha).
So, she calls me all the time for relationship advice, and my husband too. I guess because we are a couple who's spiritual paths are somewhat divergent. Or maybe because she doesn't have anyone else to call. Who knows? Yesterday we were having this conversation specific to some disagreements they've had about a whole variety of things, many of them small. They, in their relationship building, have been doing a lot of talking about the "what-ifs" in their future. It sort of hit me like a bolt from the blue, in the midst of offering some sort of comforting words about it... I stopped and changed direction. It occured to me that she and he were really worked up about a lot of tiny details, and a lot of very unlikely what-ifs. I wondered "Did our grandparents have these kinds of conversations?" I don't know if it's the sanitized screen through which we view our ancestors, but I think not. In this age we live in, so full of technology, consumerism, and fear, we (and I mean most everyone in my peer group) build relationships in very funny ways. We are writing Disaster Recovery Plans for our relationships... but we aren't working on key components. We want to know what happens if there's a tiny blip in our relationship data, and how to fix it, but we don't understand any of the hardware or the software. We don't even account for the human element anymore. We want a plan, something to guide us and fall back on if there's an error. We want to know what it will cost and how long it will take and what the steps are. We don't even worry about not having the skills or equipment to deal with it. We want the plan, we want the guarantee. But relationships aren't about guarantees. Life is not about guarantees. Humans are fallible (just like the technology we turn to every day, created by us in our feeble attempt at godlike control) and so while we hope and pray for the best every day, sometimes it doesn't happen. We're not wired like a network, or a rack full of servers. We're NOT logical. We stumble, we make mistakes, we second-guess, step back, start over. Life throws us curves when we don't expect them. Things change, jobs change, people die, babies are born, and time marches on. We write those Disaster Recovery Plans for 100 scenarios, and the 101st, one that we never considered, comes in and completely destroys our hard drive.
Our culture of fear and consumerism and technology has brought us to a terrible impass with the very nature of mortal existance. There is no money-back guarantee on life. It doesn't come with instructions for assembly, or an FAQ that's easily understood. And while I believe that God is as present in our lives as we allow God to be, and while I pray regularly in times of doubt, or trouble, and in times of joy and upliftedness, very, VERY rarely is it like calling tech support:
"Oh, just push that big OFF button on the left side."
"Thanks God, I feel like an idiot for not thinking of that!"
"No problem, that's My job."
We just have to figure out, often by trial and error, what does and doesn't work. We have to look to our parents, grandparents, peers and experts for examples of what *might* work. (or in some cases, what definitely doesn't) There is no Disaster Recovery Plan for life. There isn't one for relationships either. Just focus on loving each other, on communicating with each other, on looking forward, on moving forward. I don't know what else to tell her. Until you have a server to store it on, stop focusing on the data.
I'd like to hope that one day, we'll all have the courage to face life, and build relationships by talking about our dreams, and our desires and our hopes... ...and stop talking about all our fears and wants and the minutiae of what might happen IF this one thing goes wrong. I think we all, on some level, want beauty. I want for the human heart to see the future like an impressionist painting... full of swirling color and fuzzy detail... it should be bright and alive and not completely rigid or 100% clear. It should NOT look like an architechtural drawing. I think there is beauty and hope in not knowing everything. Stop listening to sources that tell you otherwise.
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