Spiritual Journey Thursday: How will things turn out?

 

Linda is hosting our Spiritual Journey Thursday this month.

Her theme is the word "turn"; 

you can find her post here.

I almost didn't write today.  I haven't written much this summer, save for these first Thursdays.  I usually post book musings on Mondays through the summer, and Slice of Life posts on Tuesdays throughout the year.  I just couldn't find the motivation or the muse post-May.  My half-written post for my first Monday on the work calendar languishes in the queue, my compulsion for timeliness preventing me from finishing it and posting late.  It's made me question if I should even continue those posts, and maybe just concentrate on Wednesday library updates.  My thoughts are turning, turning,...not quite turned out.  

It's been over three very long years of wondering how things will turn out.  Pandemic surges and deaths, lockdowns, remote work and school have turned into teacher shaming and shortages and delayed academic learning and stilted social skills among children.  This beginning of the school year, though better in job fillings, is still feeling the pinch.  And I just saw a commercial from Moderna reminding us that COVID is still present as a top-five cause of death in our country.  So we are still in the process of turning, turning,...not quite turned out.

I received hard news this week, and I am in a state of "and":  grateful and appreciative of the strategizing done to support me, worried and saddened by the impact the changes will undoubtedly have.  My feelings are turning, turning,...not quite turned out.

Reading back over this post, I am hesitant to publish it.  I am not wont to adding burdens to anyone's psyche, nor am I prone to toxic positivity.  I consider myself an optimistic realist, but in this moment, my outlook is turning, turning,...not quite turned out.  

I pray that when it does turn out, it hasn't been turned around. 

"No pessimist ever discovered the secret of the stars, or sailed an uncharted land, or opened a new doorway for the human spirit."  --Helen Keller

 

Spiritual Journey Thursday: The joys of summer

 

Carol is hosting our Spiritual Journey Thursday this month.

Her theme is "Rejoice in a Sunkissed Summer Season"; 

you can find her post here.

I have had to work hard

to find the joys of 

this summer season.

But they are there,

if I squint.

Unscheduled days

Book comas

Air conditioning

Episodes of "Queer Eye" on Netflix

Unhurried lunches with friends

Leisurely naps on the couch

Moments spent finding

the patterns in lake ripples

Tall pine trees 

Sun on my legs

My granddog's adoring eyes

Pizza from a local shop in a new-to-me place

Watching my adult children

share their strong connection

Summer's birds coming to my feeder

Speckled sparrows and petite wrens

A new roof on our house

A new planner for the coming year

Exuberance found 

in my newly-birthed SoulCollage card

its message, whispered in my ear--

"Martyrdom and misery

are not required in this life

in order to leave a legacy."

Spiritual Journey Thursday: What is church to you?

 

Dave is hosting this month, and has given us the following prompt:

"First, is there a physical place that has deep spiritual meaning to you?  Secondly, are there people  who have invested in, walked alongside, or that you have walked along side of in your journey?  How have they encouraged you on the way? Has your spiritual journey given your life purpose?  Does your journey have a way?  In other words, what has been your path on that journey?   In my mind the answers to those questions help constitute what church is to so many of us."

I once thought I had a complicated relationship with Church.  After all, I am a lapsed Roman Catholic, raised through all the sacraments allowed to a layperson save for Extreme Unction.  I had a personal spiritual epiphany in my late thirties that pulled me--and consequently, my family--ever so gently away from the patriarchal hierarchy of that institution.  (If ever there was proof that women are generally the keepers of religious practice, there you have it--or the absence of it, as our case may be.) 

Now that time has given me distance from that schism, it doesn't seem so complicated at all.  We were regularly practicing Catholics, and then we weren't.  We continued to say grace before meals, sing "Happy Birthday" to Jesus on Christmas Eve, do service projects, and blessed the children before bed.  It was an organic realization that our faith extended beyond religion, beyond Church, and most importantly, beyond the patriarchy.  I was simply tired of feeling less than, tired of intermediaries and dogma taking up space between me and the Divine.

I'd like to think that my mother--who was a practicing Catholic nearly all of her life--had a hand in my transition.  She was always a progressive, the parochial high school student who dared to ask the nuns "Why?" in class.  If we could sit down and talk about the pivotal moments that led to my absence from weekly Mass, I think she would nod her head in agreement that I made decisions aligned with my faith and spiritual needs.

To answer Dave's questions:  My family has been alongside me on this journey.  I have sought advice from a spiritual director, from friends, and from reading about other women's journeys, even those within the traditional guidelines of Church.  My church in the physical sense has broadened to include places that are sacred to me--the hospitals where my children were born and cared for, labyrinths I've walked, retreats I've attended, walks in nature.  The message has always been of the profound presence of the Divine, both in the surroundings and in the people near me in those spaces.  I no longer feel "less than", and when I am called to traditional prayers and practice, it is from an internal longing, not external expectations.  

This has been a though-provoking prompt, and I thank Dave and the other participants in this writing circle for sharing their thoughts this month.

Tuesday Slice: Putting the year to bed

 

I am looking forward

to wide open days

waking up an hour before sunrise,

instead of two

making personal decisions,

instead of professional ones

tending my own spaces,

instead of a public one

writing for myself,

instead of writing for others

creating for myself,

instead of creating for others

taking care of myself,

instead of taking care of others.

But first

the year must be put to bed.

Books found

numbers tallied

meetings held

plans made

spaces cleaned

reports run

accounts cleared

forms signed

and then, finally,

doors locked.

The school year

will be tucked in tight

and I will wake up

the parts of me

that were laid to rest

at the first bell.

Tuesday Slice: Inventory

One of my teachers said it best: "I thought it might be fun to be a librarian, but then I see you doing inventory, and I think no, that's not fun, that's hard."

We are in our last week of the school year.  Students finish on Thursday, and teachers finish on Friday.  My work calendar extends into next week; librarians have to compile an end-of-year report, wrap up finances, and clean up the library space after the majority of patrons are off for the summer.

Inventory is supposed to be finished this week, as final reports are run over Memorial Day weekend.  With over twenty-thousand cataloged items in our collection ranging from children's books to teaching kits, it is a daunting task that began back in February.

We are currently sitting at four hundred thirty-nine uninventoried items.  Students are still holding on to a hundred books that were supposed to be turned in on May eighth.  Six teachers still need their inventory completed.  Summer reading lessons need to be taught, and reading game sheets distributed.  I am without an assistant the last two days this week.

I want to enjoy this last week with the students, but the clock is ticking...

Tuesday Slice: Opening act

 

Fireflies at dusk

blinking at our window

The opening act

for fire in the sky

Does the rain

douse

the fireflies'

flame?

(Enquiring minds

need to know.)

Science lesson:

rain brings out the bugs

that firefly larvae feed upon--

more rain, more bugs, more fireflies.

(Thank you, Farmers' Almanac.)

Fireflies take cover

in the rain

their little flames

remaining intact

to blink once more

at my window.

Tuesday Slice: Sweat-er weather

 

'Tis the season

to be sticky

the insides of elbows

backs of necks

along waistbands

and bra-bands

behind knees

and at hairlines

'Tis the season

to be conflicted

Hot shower, 

or cool?

Catching rays, or

air conditioning?

Enjoying nature, or

swatting mosquitoes?

Beach, or

pool?

'Tis the season

of sunscreen and

extra deodorant and

heavy hair products and

swimsuit dread and

shaving daily and

craving sunlight and

cursing the sweat.