A New Year

I like moving into a new year. A new year is like a fresh start, a blank slate. I like leaving the old year with everything orderly.

That is probably why I make it standard practice to take down the Christmas tree before the new year begins. It belongs to the outgoing year instead of the incoming one. We got our tree weeks ago, and by now it is beginning to drop needles. And the process of removing it generates an unwelcome host of green needles on the white carpet. All of this takes takes some effort. Things need to be tidy and put back in order.

The fresh new calendar on the refrigerator will have lots of things written on it over time. There are infinite possibilities. I like to leave old baggage behind, whenever possible, and move ahead toward new opportunities.

I do not do new year's resolutions, however. I like to think of possibilities instead, surprises yet to happen, goals to be fulfilled, new people to meet, dreams to come true.

There are some new things I am looking forward to in 2010; hopefully a new work opportunity.
A couple of family weddings. Good health. The pleasures of daily life.

And I'm sure, blessings galore!

The Universe is Speaking to Me

When I use that phrase, "the universe is speaking to me", of course I am referring to God. But not necessarily God in the ordinary sense, some religious image of ruler, triune, person, all being, creator. The phrase does speak to me of that One, plus many other possibilities. For example, the universe can speak to me when my unconscious mind breaks through into my conscious mind and I have some much needed insight, wisdom. The universe can and does speak to me through situations, scenes, and most of all, people. A beautiful rainbow or sunset that triggers a sense of wonder and mystery can bring that feeling of being spoken to. So also can being surrounded by loved ones laughing and enjoying one another.

Even when I am feeling my least worthy, which I confess is way too often, the universe breaks through to speak to me in unexpected ways, sometimes the least expected of all.

For example, I got a card in the mail today. It is from a former parishioner. Let me say that my experience of her was that she was the most demanding and difficult of them all. What I always thought was that when I was her pastor, I could never really quite please her, never do enough, never succeed enough. Of course, ninety percent of that was my own internal dialogue I am sure. And no doubt I projected that mightily onto her, but she surely projected some of those expectations onto me.

I have retired. She and her husband have moved to another state and are living close to children, and receiving care for diminishing abilities, including her husband's severe dementia. Her kind and sweet note spoke of their appreciation of my years of ministry in their church, how special those years were for them, and how much they enjoyed me and my husband Gerry. I would never have guessed that at the time. But I do recognize that the universe is speaking to me through her words, giving me a boost when I need it, an affirmation, a word of encouragement.

I try to listen when I am being spoken to.

Almost Christmas

It is almost Christmas. There is a bit of blustery snow blowing about today, and it's about eighteen degrees. Soon I'll start cooking preparations. I guess preparations are much of what Christmas is all about. Preparing for company. Preparing presents. Preparing for something special to happen.

I do not have many, or perhaps any memories from my childhood about Christmases past. I don't know exactly why that is. Most of my adult memories have to do with preparing the church for Christmas worshippers, preparing the very best message I could muster. I do vividly remember the special moment of the first Christmas Eve service with Gerry, back before I became a pastor. We got caught up in the most magical gaze, newly in love, full of hope for our future, suspended there looking into each others' eyes for what seemed like a long time. I remember that moment for sure. Not that we were young kids, by any means. We were well into middle adulthood, both of us. Still, we were overwhelmed by love and Christmas magic.

For many years, Christmas was mostly about preparing Christmas for others, both a lovely service for parishioners and occasional worshippers, and a lovely feast for family. I still do the family meal. I have the time, the space, the desire, so the family comes to our house. For the candlelight service, I'm back to sitting in the pew next to Gerry.

We're still preparing---for whatever comes. Light, love, friends, laughter, good times, bad times. We are as prepared as one can be. We can get through it, because we have each other.

A Daily Task

It is enjoyable for me to have the daily task of blogging. One starts to think about what they might write about next. One begins to think of the blog as a place to go, an old friend to visit. Not a task at all, but a daily delight. Just me and my blog!

Actually, it reminds me of how I felt when I took a Creative Writing course at the University of Maryland in 1977. Or that's my best guess at the year. I was in my glory going to that class, participating, doing my weekly assignments. Of course, at least partly, that might be because it was my only foray into the real, adult world. I had three small children at the time. Creative Writing was my intellectual occupation for a few hours a week. I remember vividly when it was over. I remember saying to my mother back then....'now if I only had a weekly assignment like that from now on!'

One has to be careful what they say, what they offer up to the universe, to the great Creator. That statement of longing must have brewed a while, a dozen years or so. In 1987 I wrote a collection of short stories, which turned out to be very mystical, spiritual, based on biblical images and stories. That was honestly the first clue that I had, letting me know my most basic, internal nature. They were stories that seemed to originate from somewhere other than me. And perhaps they did.

In 1989 I felt called to the ministry, strongly, irresistably. I would have resisted if I could have. I knew better, having lived that life as a child. I figure that some powerful angel heard my longing for a 'weekly assignment'. And for the next twenty years, I had it! I wrote sermons. Always, the sermon-writing part was the easiest part of ministry for me. The part I loved the most. In time, I began to love the preaching, delivery, part as much as the writing part.

Now, I have a daily writing assignment! Can't beat that!