This is not going to be one of those sappy Christmas posts. In fact, I'm not entirely certain that I will be able to communicate the "epiphany" I had on the bus this afternoon. Maybe it was something just for me, for me and God, but it had me wishing for a pen and journal (of all the times to leave a journal at home in favor of an extra textbook...) so I thought I'd give a stab at writing it here for you.
I don't really remember what I was thinking about, probably the things I jotted in my previous post this afternoon, just before heading out to catch the bus and go to school to write an exam. But suddenly, as I watched the city lights twinkle against the sky, I was hit by an understanding of the advent season that is new to me.
The church calendar is full of seasons of waiting. Advent and Lent being two of the more well-known of these seasons. They are seasons that are pregnant - bursting with the promise of something important, something new. And that is what hit me. That these seasons are pregnant - that they have meaning because of their culminating event. Advent culminates in the birth of a savior, Lent in the resurrection of that same savior.
I have felt this sense of pregnancy, of urgency, of coming newness in my life this last while. I was feeling it particularly today, as I realized that I am within hours of completing the major goal of gaining a university education, and as I reflected on "mothering". I have this sense of growing newness, of something waiting to be birthed, to spring forth and amaze me. And I am annoyed that I cannot put my finger on it directly, that I cannot find words to share properly this realization of the advent season. But I am thrilled, for it promises to be something beautiful and new.
I am waiting with baited breath. Twelve hours from now I will have officially completed the requirements of my program. I will be the owner of a bachelor's degree. I don't think that moment, tomorrow morning, will be any sort of birthing - although it will be ecstatic. But that moment in the morning is only the beginning - I expect eagerly that new things will be brought to life, to light in me and in my life, and I am waiting with expectancy and what is becoming joy.
Monday, December 19, 2005
Two Funny Posts
On two completely unrelated items.
The first, from Rick Mercer, one of my favorite, truly sarcastic Canadian comics. Really and truly, you must appreciate this post. You can find it here. Remember, children are the future but beer is now.
The second, from a random link I found on one of the blogs I occasionally read. Signs the emerging church isn't for you. It can be found here.
The first, from Rick Mercer, one of my favorite, truly sarcastic Canadian comics. Really and truly, you must appreciate this post. You can find it here. Remember, children are the future but beer is now.
The second, from a random link I found on one of the blogs I occasionally read. Signs the emerging church isn't for you. It can be found here.
Lacking Motivation
I find myself somewhat tired, and lacking in motivation today. I am less than 24 hours from completing the last final exam of my undergraduate degree, and instead of buckling down to study dilligently, I have lain in bed for much of the afternoon, consuming another of Chaim Potok's novels, and feeling slightly morose.
I made a phone call last night that resulted in great disappointment. I wonder sometimes, if this time in my life, when I am caring for others, is preparation for something. A while ago I was talking about "calling" with a friend of mine, and he suggested that my calling was to "mother". I cringed at the time - there are so many issues in my relationship with my parents that mothering is a scary concept at times. Mothering also carries the sense of responsibility, of intense love, that I did not want to commit myself to.
And yet, I begin to wonder if mothering has not been what this time of caring for others is about. I feel the exasperation of a parent of a slightly rebellious child - the exasperation that expresses itself in sarcastic statements of common sense. And today, I feel the disappointment I think a parent must feel, when they have given good advice, thought that it was accepted, and later found that it had been rejected, and that the consequences had caused the child to suffer pain.
But I am here. I am not a mother, except perhaps, figuratively in the lives of a select few. And I hope it stays that way for a time. I want the freedom to be and do and see the world before settling into the responsibilities of being a wife and mother.
I am thinking a lot about responsibility and freedom these days. I am dreaming of the ways the next year will play out. Of travel plans, and financial issues. Of emotional health, spiritual freedom, and time with people I love. Of the person I hope I will become, and the person I hope I will never become.
I feel the need to reconnect with certain old friends, to build greater bridges with somewhat newer friends. There is a newness to this season of my life - a freshness that is at once invigorating and confusing and terrifying.
These last days have been days lost in thought. On Saturday night I went to spend the evening with a friend. We talked for several hours. She asked a question, and I found myself in tears for the first time in over a year. She laughed as I cried, because she knew that this was a moment of importance.
I am perhaps, hormonal. I am certainly in pain. (I saw a doctor this morning who informed me that excruciating pain in my side is a result of sprained muscles surrounding my ribs, thanks to my still lingering cough.) And yet, I hope that these feelings are more than just hormones, or painful (or painkiller) delirium. I want them to be something more. To be something that will have bearing on my next year, and not something that will disappear as my hormones regulate themselves and my painful ribs heal.
I'm planning a party for tomorrow night. My closest friends and I will travel to Banff for dinner and a trip to the Hot Springs. We're going to celebrate the completion of my bachelor's degree. There are people missing - people I wish could join us. People who have unknowingly or knowingly played roles in my journey these past years. But those who have supported me in the month since God truly showed up will mostly be there. The people who I call in the midst of one of the crises I have dealt with. The people who have prayed with me, and answered questions for me, laughed at me, and watched as I have cried.
To those who won't be there - Dana, Stuart, a few others - I wish you could join me. Because I am not only celebrating graduation, but a newness in my Spiritual life - a journey that excites and scares me, but a journey upon which I can't wait to embark. And you have been part of this, for varying lengths of time, with varying levels of involvement, but I am unable to tell you how thankful I am.
I made a phone call last night that resulted in great disappointment. I wonder sometimes, if this time in my life, when I am caring for others, is preparation for something. A while ago I was talking about "calling" with a friend of mine, and he suggested that my calling was to "mother". I cringed at the time - there are so many issues in my relationship with my parents that mothering is a scary concept at times. Mothering also carries the sense of responsibility, of intense love, that I did not want to commit myself to.
And yet, I begin to wonder if mothering has not been what this time of caring for others is about. I feel the exasperation of a parent of a slightly rebellious child - the exasperation that expresses itself in sarcastic statements of common sense. And today, I feel the disappointment I think a parent must feel, when they have given good advice, thought that it was accepted, and later found that it had been rejected, and that the consequences had caused the child to suffer pain.
But I am here. I am not a mother, except perhaps, figuratively in the lives of a select few. And I hope it stays that way for a time. I want the freedom to be and do and see the world before settling into the responsibilities of being a wife and mother.
I am thinking a lot about responsibility and freedom these days. I am dreaming of the ways the next year will play out. Of travel plans, and financial issues. Of emotional health, spiritual freedom, and time with people I love. Of the person I hope I will become, and the person I hope I will never become.
I feel the need to reconnect with certain old friends, to build greater bridges with somewhat newer friends. There is a newness to this season of my life - a freshness that is at once invigorating and confusing and terrifying.
These last days have been days lost in thought. On Saturday night I went to spend the evening with a friend. We talked for several hours. She asked a question, and I found myself in tears for the first time in over a year. She laughed as I cried, because she knew that this was a moment of importance.
I am perhaps, hormonal. I am certainly in pain. (I saw a doctor this morning who informed me that excruciating pain in my side is a result of sprained muscles surrounding my ribs, thanks to my still lingering cough.) And yet, I hope that these feelings are more than just hormones, or painful (or painkiller) delirium. I want them to be something more. To be something that will have bearing on my next year, and not something that will disappear as my hormones regulate themselves and my painful ribs heal.
I'm planning a party for tomorrow night. My closest friends and I will travel to Banff for dinner and a trip to the Hot Springs. We're going to celebrate the completion of my bachelor's degree. There are people missing - people I wish could join us. People who have unknowingly or knowingly played roles in my journey these past years. But those who have supported me in the month since God truly showed up will mostly be there. The people who I call in the midst of one of the crises I have dealt with. The people who have prayed with me, and answered questions for me, laughed at me, and watched as I have cried.
To those who won't be there - Dana, Stuart, a few others - I wish you could join me. Because I am not only celebrating graduation, but a newness in my Spiritual life - a journey that excites and scares me, but a journey upon which I can't wait to embark. And you have been part of this, for varying lengths of time, with varying levels of involvement, but I am unable to tell you how thankful I am.
Hallelujah
You should read this article. I thought that it was beautiful. Pay particular attention to the alternate ending lines of the song. They were my favorite part.
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