Looking Forward to a Year of Wonders

The worst cold I’ve had this century kept me out of circulation for most of two weeks. Much of December has been taken up with breathing, and with avoiding contagion to those around me.

As soon as I was fully recovered, I worked my annual Christmas Day shift as chaplain at the local hospital. It was a quiet day, but in the afternoon, as sometimes happens, at the same moment I was paged for two unrelated needs: to see a lonely patient on the cardiac floor, and to attend an unexpected death at a satellite facility. I went at once to meet the newly bereaved family, and later spent a companionable half-hour with the lonely patient.

What does my daily practice have to tell me about this?

• The Voice of Clarity says it’s a blessing, in a very literal way, to have the gift of serving our patients and at the same time to allow all the Christian chaplains to be home with families or at church on this High Holy Day of their tradition.
• The Voice of Truth says I love being in the hospital, even when it’s hard (which is wasn’t, this time).
• The Voice of Intuition tells me that I learn as much from what doesn’t work as from what does, that I receive as much from sitting with a bereaved family as I am able to give to them, that the sooner I recognize there is nothing for me to ‘do’ or ‘fix’, the more useful I am.
• The Voice of Wisdom tells me that all that is important about my days, this decade, is that they be filled with meaning and value, and that I be giving my attention to whatever is present.

This has been a season of choices and decisions. Do I want another fulltime job? No, probably I don’t; maybe this year was my last one. Do I want a part-time job? Maybe, it depends; but anyway, not yet.

Since my chaplain residency ended in September, I’ve been culling my apartment.

When we sold the house, I let go of everything I could stand to let go of, and kept only things to which I had a great attachment. Now that I’ve lived here three years and more, I can see that some of those ‘attachments’ are to the idea of a thing, rather than to the thing itself; or to the notion that someday I might need it, rather than any actual need.

I don’t want to be my grandmother, saving bits of string in case they would come in handy, drowning in a sea of broken objects and partial sets, just in case someone would need them. I also don’t want to be my mother, buying things at auctions and garage sales and taking them straight to the attic “because somebody will use them.” So that when we emptied her house, we had to find “somebody” to give them to.

Besides, at this stage of my life, most things I think I have to hang onto can be readily replaced at one of our local thriftshops, for a fraction of their original cost, as well as a fraction of the actual cost of keeping them now. (Consider that a second bedroom to use as a junkroom has a cost; and that the storage unit I decided to get instead also has a specific, finite lower cost).

Today I cleared out a box of seashells (!) collected from my last serious beach visit. I washed them and laid them out to dry. And when I went to put them in the drawer with the Water tools I discovered … that they very nearly duplicated the collection that was already there, amassed over several previous beach trips.

That made me look at the drawer of Fire tools, and the ones for Earth and Air, just to make sure I wasn’t carefully saving duplicates for them. (Mostly I wasn’t; whew!)

Yesterday I was looking through crowded cupboards in the kitchen … and realized I own an entire set of mugs that have not been touched since I unpacked them, even though they occupy an entire shelf. My attachment to them seems to be that, at a moment a dozen years ago when I was hosting a huge party, I found them at the thrift store and was relieved. Same thing, exactly, with a stack of glass bowls, bought in haste for the same party.

They were both wonderful finds, and a nice save, at the time. But really: my everyday collection of mugs and bowls is already more than I can possibly use, as this living room wouldn’t support a party of even half that many people (even if I got rid of some of the furniture).

Other things I’ve let go of, this season:

• Business cards for jobs I no longer hold;
• Musical instruments that I haven’t played in three years or more – including one that I bought five years ago because someday I would learn to play it (and haven’t);
• Books I bought because I used to love their author, but somehow I’ve outgrown them;
• Clothes that will never fit again.

Last year I did a good job of letting go of ‘things I saved because they were important to my mother’. The year before that I was able to let go of things I saved because they were important to me in childhood (even though I could not now remember why).

But this apartment is still a bit overcrowded and cluttered.

As has been true all my life, if I could resist buying books until I’d read what I already own … well, maybe next life.

The year in review.

• Attended the funeral of an important mentor and was reminded that all life is sacred … and all life ends.
• Learned a valuable lesson in transparency, and why it’s never a good idea to wait for a perfect moment to tell someone information they may need immediately.
• Signed up for a Farm Share and learned that even a quarter of a share is too much for one person who barely cooks.
• Moved from a 20+ year old coven to a brand new one, becoming one of its founding members.
• Attended the first CUUPS Convo in the new series.
• Completed a chaplain residency.
• Began training to do Advance Care Planning in Gundersen’s Respecting Choices model.
• Sang in a large group for a new recording of chants.
• Helped build a sweat lodge.
• Wove a lovely shawl.

What does my daily practice tell me tonight?

• The Voice of Clarity tells me to husband my strength, to honor my commitments, to seek and nurture friendships, and to continue speaking honestly about myself and my own future.
• The Voice of Truth tells me I still have plenty of Work to do, Wisdom to share, and Service to give, Knowledge to study, Skill to hone.
• The Voice of Intuition tells me courage is needed, and will be rewarded. And that love shared openly can be returned, but love hidden will be ignored.
• The Voice of Wisdom tells me there is plenty of time, and I must use it wisely.
• The Voice of Spirit bids me attend to the work of chaplaincy and resist any tendency to let it become dormant. The Voice of Spirit tells me to attend to my own daily practice and allow it to take root.

May 2017 be a Year of Wonders for you and yours. May we learn what we need to learn, practice what we need to practice, dare what we need to dare, and enjoy everything we can.

So mote it be.

Late December 2016