"A man cannot step into the same river twice. For he is not the same man, and it is not the same river."~Heraclitus
I suppose we all feel as if we've entered a very different river in 2020, what with COVID and all the unanticipated changes and losses that we've encountered. I have a penchant for reflection at year's end--especially this one with all its need to summon resilience. I am asking, "What have I learned?" "What lessons will I attempt to hold onto for 2021?"
Here are a few concepts I want to keep:
Valuing my pace: It is easy to get caught up in "covering ground," fall into the "move faster" mode. I'm accepting that "slow learning" is a good fit for me. Letting go of comparisons..."I should be at this place now," or "I need to be more like____He/she really has it together." Let me ask myself rather, "Where have I improved?" In what areas have I increased my skill?"
Anchoring into delight: I'm increasing my ability to allow what delights me into my life. No one will do that for me, or even know what areas that would entail. I will keep reading what speaks to me and watching Masterpiece Theatre. Writing about what interests me. Enjoying nature. No one can participate in what delights him or her all the time. But if there is little to delight in, or delight is put "on hold" until all the work is done (all the work will never be done, by the way), then life echoes with dread and dreariness.
An increasing awareness of God's grace: I'm becoming more more prone to being challenged by God's goodness rather than life's circumstances. I'm gaining skill in using my situations as practice ground for remaining mentally, emotionally and spiritually poised.
All of us will step into a different river in 2021. We have changed as well. What have you learned from 2020 that you plan on taking with you? I would be encouraged to hear your thoughts. And please know, dear readers, that your readership and posts over this tumultous year have added to my delight a hundred fold. Thank you. I appreciate it.
Forever, Emily Dickinson said, is composed of nows. But how do you inhabit the now you are in? How do you stop the ghosts of all the other nows from getting in? How, in short, do you live?~Matt Haig (From How To Stop Time)
I realized in that moment that others view me as old. And it's not only the silver hair. I sat in the waiting room prepared to see the optician for my annual eye exam. Due to COVID, I was the only patient. The doctor opened the door to the waiting room and when he saw me reading, asked, "Priscilla, have you returned to school? I notice you reading a book." Somewhat confused, I looked up, put my finger in the book to save my place and replied, "No, it's a library book. I always bring a book with me when I think I might have to wait." He said, "Oh, people don't usually read 'real' books anymore unless it's a text book. The screens--they're actually hard on the eyes--interfere with circadian rhythms and all that. I'm trying to go the old-fashinoned way, you know, take my kids to the library." I nodded, realizing how holding the book aged me. Placed me in the category of "vintage." "Yes," I said. "Libraries are one of the most civilized and comforting places I know." And with that, he ushered me into the low light of the exam room and began to peer into my eyes.
During COVID, the library and books have helped me to inhabit the now by taking me away. I keep a log of the books I read each year. I've read thirty books in 2020. Below I highlight my top five, though this is difficult, as I've enjoyed parts of all thirty...
A Month In Siena by Hisham Matar--A short memoir highlighting paintings the author observed in his time browsing a Sienese museum in Italy.
How To Stop Time by Matt Haig--A man who has a rare condition that causes him to age slowly confronts how to keep the desire to live intact over the centuries.
So Maybe You Should Talk To Someone by Lori Gottlieb--A psychotherapist shares her own therapy experience while simultaneously treating her own patients.
Writers and Lovers by Lily King--Follows a woman who holds fast to her desire to write.
The Psalms (The Passion Translation)--This poetry has strengthened me day after day with its beauty and comfort. Stopped the ghosts from other "nows" from getting in.
It has been a tough year. Many of you have shared your challenges...job losses and financial struggle, illness and even death of loved ones by COVID, unanticipated non-COVID health issues and accidents. Strained relationships. The grief and loss is palpable on multiple levels. Collectively, we as a world have endured much and continue to do so. I pray that as you inhabit whatever "now" you are in, you experience the freedom of knowing that it is not what you do, or what you have or what people think of you that is the most important. May you realize that you are the beloved of God. That He delights to resource you and longs as you long to fulfill your destiny.
End note: This will be my last post for the year. I am transitioning into a new season as I relocate. I hope to see you back on the page sometime in February of the New Year. Until then, love to you and yours. Merry Christmas and fresh hope for a brilliant 2021.
My sister and I had a long satisfying conversation about things spiritual. What we were learning. "You should tell the story of the Zion Maidens on your blog," she said.
Years I've spent not fully liking myself. A bent toward people pleasing and clamoring after being loved, approved of and wanted by others. An age-old longing. God's love really the only panacea. Couldn't I get it? Don't I get it? It's taken decades.
These last months I've gotten much more skilled in receiving that divine advance of love toward me. I've surrendered to the tenderness. I feel as if I've climbed a mountain. I would name the mountain MT. IDENTITY. There's a piece of me that believes the climb is merely a mirage--that there are more and higher peaks truly impossible for me to scale. That I must somehow prove something. But there's a greater part of me that knows I've arrived. I'm at that destination of I AM THE BELOVED. That's my truth. There are no more peaks for me to summit. I've got this one. My territory is here. I've put down my flag at this place. I believe that I am the beloved of God. All of my truest identity flows from this admission. It doesn't matter that I have issues of self-doubt, passivity and lack of faith at times. All that matters is that God sees me as His, approves of me, affirms me, His affection assured, no matter my weakness, no matter my circumstances.
Then I did something I don't do often. I asked for a confirmation from God. Assurance that I was on the right track. That I wasn't merely operating in magical thinking. I turned to I Peter 2:6 in the Passion Translation.
Look! I lay a cornerstone in Zion, a chosen and priceless stone! And whoever believes in Him will certainly not be disappointed. As believers you know His great worth--indeed, His preciousness is imparted to you.
Then in the footnote:
Mount Zion was once a Jebusite stronghold conquered by David who made it the capital for his kingdom. This is inside the walls of present-day Jerusalem. Zion is used in both the Old and New Testaments as more than a location. Zion is referred to as the place of God's dwelling. God's people are called Zion Maidens. Zion is the heavenly realm where God is manifest.
So, this my assurance as the beloved. His preciousness imparted to me. A Zion Maiden, no less.
Thank you for bearing with me in my process. Perhaps in some small way, my struggle to anchor down into the love of God will support you in your process whatever that may be. Please know how much I appreciate your connection. Your readership. Thank you for your comments and validation. Now may the God of all grace shelter you, keep you and assure you of His great love for you. God's peace in your hearts.
"I think it is easy to imagine there are easier paths," she said, realizing something for the first time. "But maybe there are no easy paths. There are just paths."~ From The Midnight Library by Matt Haig
She had regrets. The narrator in the book, The Midnight Library. Her life seemed too small. In her opinion, she'd made too many wrong turns. She was talented, and had multiple opportunities to be more successful. She questioned her choices. She'd disappointed people with her decisions. Then she lands in a mystical place, The Midnight Library, where there are opportunities to see what may have happened in her life if she'd taken different pathways. In the end...well, I'll encourage you to read the book to see what happens.
There I sat in my reading chair after finishing the book contemplating my own life. The different choices I could have made along my path. My reading corner is magical to me--that contemplative area I've carved out for myself, even amidst the moving boxes, where I light a fragrant candle, listen to Pandora and read and think and pray and write. I thought about my life as I held my cup of hazelnut coffee against my chest. I could feel its warmth permeate my sweater, metaphorically warming my heart. I could say that even though my life is imperfect and I don't know where this bend on the path takes me, my weaknesses often surface and I feel uncertain at times, I have no regrets. This pathway is mine. It is not easy, but it belongs to me, and that in itself is wonderfully good.
And you? What are you thinking about your life? During this time in history and living inside the peril of a Pandemic, gives us pause to think about our pathways.
As we move into a very different holiday season, I crafted a prayer (taken from Psalms 1-15 in The Passion Translation) for you (and me)...
May you rest in the hope that God enables you to bear fruit in every season of your life, that you are never dry, never fainting, that He embraces your path as you move forward. May you know in the depths of your heart that God is your Shield, the God who lifts you up when you are weary or bowed low in shame.--that He sends a Father's help.
May you be comforted that when you are in distress, squeezed by life, that you can expect His kindness, His grace. Assured that He works wonders. That you can lie down in peace and sleep.
May you be encouraged that He smooths out the road in front of you, straight and level so that you know where to walk.
May you experience His wrap-around presence, knowing He is your protector and defense. And when you feel oppressed, may you realize that He never neglects you, but rather is the perfect hiding place.
Amen.
"Respair": A 16th century term meaning fresh hope, and a recovery from despair.
We made a trek to see the pods--those square and rectangular boxes that one can rent to store earthly goods. My husband and I wanted to see if the largest pod would be adequate to hold our things--that the truck the company used to deliver the boxes would fit on our driveway. The warehouse seemed a bit surreal. Miles and stacks of pods. Lines of trucks to carry the pods. No one around. A minuscule office sat at the corner of the warehouse, but we couldn't rouse anyone to help answer our questions. We walked over to one of the trucks and made our best guess that our driveway would fit its wheels, that the size pod we chose would hold our things. Just as we were about to leave, a man appeared behind one of the trucks. "Could we ask you a question about the pods?" "Sure," he said. We posed questions about the driveway requirements, but he responded, "I"m a driver. I transport pods from one location to another, so I don't know a lot about the driveway stuff. But, hey, I'm going to the office to get my orders. Maybe that guy could help you."
That's when we met Billy. Billy Billy as it turns out. "Yeah, my name's Billy, and believe it or not, my last name's Williams. People call me 'Billy Billy,'" he laughed. There was something about him. Merry blue eyes behind glasses. A ponytail and long sideburns. Rosy cheeks. A listener. Billy answered our questions and put our minds at ease about our pod confusion. He handed us his business card. "You can see it's in the shape of a pod," he smiled.
When I stood in the pod warehouse, even with hundreds of pods stored there, the space was only partially filled. A vast amount of storage remained. A thought crossed my mind that perhaps the pod storehouse was a metaphor for how God wants to store our confusion and uncertainties, our despair, our burdens, our questions, our pain, our anxiety, our fear and worry, our cares. Our stress. I imagined Him saying, "Look at this gigantic warehouse. Such capacity. I am bigger. I can hold your vulnerabilities. Let me do that for you. You don't have to conjure up the faith, provide all the effort. Let me trade you those negatives for fresh hope and comfort, for strength and courage."
As my husband and I walked back to our car, I looked up at the sky. Blue portals shone through the gray. The pod place experience left me peaceful. In a strange way, being there felt almost like a retreat. The metaphorical exhange. Allowing God to store my uncertainty, my cares. Billy Billy's smile. Respair.
Pour out all your worries and stress upon Him and leave them there, for He always tenderly cares for you. I Peter 5:7 ( From The Passion Translation)