Waiting in the dark--Spiritual Journey Thursday

 

I'm hosting this month's Spiritual Journey Thursday.

Inspired by Henri Nouwen, I chose the theme of waiting.

"To wait open-endedly is an enormously radical attitude toward life.  ...The spiritual life is a life in which we wait, actively present to the moment, trusting that new things will happen to us, new things that are far beyond our own imagination, fantasy, or prediction.  That, indeed, is a very radical stance toward life in a world preoccupied with control."

--Nouwen, "A Spirituality of Waiting", 1993.

 

Lady of the Sea statue, Anacortes, WA

Sit with me, and wait.

Wait in the darkness, 

lingering in the mornings, 

stealing our afternoons.

Sit with me, and wait.

Wait as we wrap gifts

Sing to beckon redemption

Light candles to illuminate the night.

Sit with me, and wait.

Wait as the Mother 

pregnant with Hope

content in knowing it will arrive.

Sit with me, and wait.

--Christine Margocs, 2021

*************

"There is not enough night left for us.  We have lost our true instincts for darkness, its invitation to spend some time in the proximity of our dreams.  Our personal winters are so often accompanied by insomnia: perhaps we're drawn towards that unique space of intimacy and contemplation, darkness and silence, without really knowing what we're seeking.  Perhaps, after all, we are being urged towards our own comfort.

...Over and again, we find that winter offers us liminal spaces to inhabit.  Yet still we refuse them.  The work of the cold season is to learn to welcome them."

 

--Katherine May, Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times, 2020.

I awaken long before dawn.

Night-black windows 

guard against the intrusion 

of the day's demands.

My movements are slow, 

shuffling down the hall,

remnants of dreams like spiderwebs in my hair

I treasure this time

when I can be me

beyond wife, mother, worker

When those dreams are more real

than the unseen world outside.

--Christine Margocs, 2021

************** 

And so we wait. We wait for the cookies to bake, the packages to arrive, the family to gather.  We wait for the longest night and the lengthening days beyond.  We wait for stuffed stockings and phone calls from home.  We wait, knowing that things will get better, because we have been given the Promise in Love's form, bringing Light to the darkness of Winter and weariness of Soul.

We wait in Hope.

  

 Thank you for taking this Spiritual Journey with me this December!

Tuesday Slice: COVID Diaries--Here we go again?

Oh, I was so sick two weekends ago...yet so satisfied, and dare I say it, a bit smug.

I scheduled my Moderna booster on the Friday afternoon that our district's Fall Break began, just in case I had side effects.  I planned well; within fifteen hours, my temperature started to rise, peaking at 101 before I cried uncle and took some acetaminophen.  There was joy in those feverish chills as I pictured little antibodies multiplying in my bloodstream, hoping my unmeasured numbers equalled those of my friends who participated in a state study and proudly, happily published their findings. I imagined an invisible suit of armor surrounding my body as I ventured into the not-so-sterile elementary school environment each workday.  I even dared to dream--gasp--of a maskless summer in 2022.

And then COVID-Omicron variant made the news.  Here we go again, I thought.

When the scientists have more questions than answers...that's when I start to worry.  My invisible armor doesn't seem so protective right now.  I was already a bit leery of attending an in-person statewide conference in April, but now I am fully sixty percent against going.  We went to an outdoor event with some brief indoor shopping in close quarters, and we were the only ones wearing masks in the building; outdoors, we saw only one other family in masks, out of hundreds of people.  Were they confident in being vaccinated, folks who don't believe that COVID is a problem, a mix of both?  Does it matter in the long run, as long as my family is vaccinated?  I've got more questions than answers these days, too. 

I am praying that next Christmas season, these COVID diaries will be a thing of the past.  For now, let's mask up and carry on, and pray for those researchers and medical folks in the field.  Looks like they will need our support for awhile longer.

Tuesday Slice: Downsizing

 

My father and his wife have ordered their Thanksgiving dinner premade, and will be spending this week, including Thanksgiving Day, continuing their decluttering journey towards an eventual move into a retirement community.  (There are no hard feelings here; we will be seeing each other in a few weeks for my son's graduation from college.)

In my attempts to straighten up my house a bit before the kids arrive for the holiday, I realize, yet again, that we can't wait until retirement to do the same.

I come from a family that values stuff; it is part of my DNA.  The thrill of scoring a really good sale is also inherited.  Throw in the childhood spent traversing the globe as a military BRAT, when my stuff became my sense of home, and a tendency to start creative projects and not finish them..well, you can see where this is going.

We are not hoarders, not in the truest sense (although with books, I plead the fifth; I am a librarian, after all).  I have no problem throwing away trash, recycling paper and plastic products, getting rid of clothes that are three sizes too small.  I am not someone who keeps items that spark sadness, so there, Marie Kondo.

But I can't bear to part with sentimental items.  Boarding passes to places I may never visit again, notes from grateful students, a Christmas tag with my mother's handwriting--they bring back happy memories, those I'm worried I'll forget without the physical reminders.

And there are those books I swear I will get around to reading, the projects I know I'll finish someday, those jeans that are just one size out of reach...

It's time, though, to think once again (because I know I've written about this before) about the long-term effects of having this clutter around.  

After all, this is the season of gratitude...and I have so much more to be thankful for than just stuff.

Tuesday Slice: Accurate forecast

 

I turned off the car radio

as I turned off the main highway

rolling down the windows a bit

breathing a bit more deeply

The cool, fresh air accompanied me

fresh thinking is what I sought

to clear my mind of its clutter

my schedule having a mind of its own these days

Another turn, and bright sunlight

is replaced by dappled light of piney woods

I slow way down, following the signs

my heartbeat slowing as wheels crunch on gravel

I rolled into my parking spot

rolled up the windows, turned off the car

slowly began unloading my belongings

feeling like I'm back where I belong

To mark the season's turning

breathe deeply

make a fresh start

be mindful

soak in sunlight

slow down

let tension roll away

to just...be

All photos by Christine Margocs, November 2021.

Tuesday Slice: Bright forecast

This Tuesday Slice

dares to predict the future

as it is being written

the Saturday before

the Tuesday you are reading it.

This Tuesday Slice

predicts that I will wake up this morning

in a cabin in the Piney Woods of Texas

feeling at peace, refreshed

a little sad, perhaps

that I will be leaving

in a few hours.

This Tuesday Slice

is forecasting sunshine peeking between leaves

fresh air wafting through a screened door

a night sky full of stars tucking me in

and maybe, just maybe

a s'more or two made beside a campfire.

If you haven't guessed already, I'm preparing for another Getaway, sans computer and social media  Let's see if these predictions came true!

 

Forever grateful--Spiritual Journey Thursday

Denise has given us the prompt of exploring gratitude for this month's Spiritual Journey reflection. You can find her own post here.

My current gratitude journal, like my last one, started as a blank Erin Condren bound notebook.  For years I treated myself to an appointment book each late December, prettily illustrated and already dated with plenty of space for my nightly notes.  But I also hoard blank journals, and it occurred to me a couple of years ago that I could pre-date the pages, making use of what I already possess.  

I began nocturnal gratitude journaling decades ago after reading Sarah Ban Breathnach's Simple Abundance: A Daybook of Comfort and Joy.  It was the one practice the author wished her readers to continue, above all the other suggestions she proffered in her daily musings.  The book and the practice of gratitude journaling appeared when I needed them the most--as I was grieving my mother's illness and subsequent death.  Writing five things for which I was thankful was often hard during those first dark months after her passing.  I can truthfully say that even now, "washer and dryer", "indoor plumbing", and "comfy bed" are mentioned fairly often, as is "pantry full of food" and "the health of my family".

Gratitude journaling, however mundane the details might be, makes me softer, helps me sleep better, and puts me in a state of constant gratitude.  It's not hard to think of what I'm grateful for, through that lens:

I am grateful for

the electricity that 

powered the alarm that

woke me up for quiet me time that

helped me face the challenges of the day and

the coffee maker that also woke me up and

colorful pens to write my morning page and

internet access to connect with my friends and

the colleagues who lend me support and

the students who follow library expectations with a smile and

the free Diet Coke in the teacher lounge fridge and

the PTA folks who bought us those sodas and

the mom-turned-sub who will stand in for me and

my son's graduation for college (the need for a sub) and

his sister, my daughter--the care they have for one another and

my husband, their father, who loves us through thick and thin and

this circle of Spirit-seekers who will read my words, as I read theirs, and

the glow I will get from their posts that

I will write about in my gratitude journal that

sits next to my comfy bed that

is right by the alarm

for which I am grateful.

There is a place, too, for which I am forever grateful--actually two linked places:  the hospital where both of my children were born, and the hospital which cradled my firstborn preemie until she came home.  Whenever I am near either of those two buildings, a silent thank you blooms in my heart for the people and medical miracles that made us, and kept us, a family.

Thank you, Denise, for the prompt of gratitude this Thursday.

Tuesday Slice: Routine is underrated

"Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are.

Let me learn from you, love you, savor you, bless you before you depart.

Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow."

--Mary Jean Irion

The older I get, the more I value routines.

My morning routine at home, performed alone in the quiet pre-dawn hours, sets the tone for my day.  I am able to breathe, collect my thoughts, wake up gently and prepare for work without feeling too rushed.  I plan my clothes for the week every weekend and lay them out each night, one less daily decision I need to make--decision fatigue is real among us educator-types.

My morning routine at work helps me prepare for the day ahead, too.  I turn on the lights, flat panel computer, circulation desk computer, and office laptop on the way to stowing my jacket and purse.  I scoop up my phone, reading glasses and water tumbler, leaving my tumbler by the door, as I head to the hallway to greet students, help out at the front door, and take care of library visitors.  As soon as the last bell rings, I fill up my water tumbler and get the computers logged in for the day's work.

That school routine worked, and then it was disrupted, will be disrupted for the foreseeable future with new duties to attend to most mornings.  I now need to wake up earlier, be at work earlier, to attend to library setup before heading to my new duty each day.

I would be lying if I said I didn't resent this change.  I  know I will get over the resentment, will learn to work with the new schedule.  I am hoping it benefits the teachers it will serve.

This change got me thinking about how often we have done this to students and teachers these past two years.  With so much uncertainty brought by the pandemic, shouldn't we be focusing on routines right now?  Teachers know that consistent routines go far in classroom management.  Children thrive in an environment where they know what's happening next, especially when their after-school lives may be chaotic.  We adults benefit from the same conditions, too.

Daily routines may sound mundane, but there is flexibility within that framework.  I learned that when serving fifty-seven classes a week in the library at my previous school; a weekly routine allowed for the occasional disruption (emphasis on occasional) without much to-do--or resentment--and gave me the time to serve all of my students.  I'm hoping this latest change will be the last one for a good long while.  Routine days are a treasure.