As we're taking stock of this tumultuous and consequential year, I'd like us to take a moment to reflect on our own personal lives, and what lessons, if any, 2008 taught us about ourselves and the way we live.
For myself, I find one lesson in particular stands out. I've mentioned in this space several times the bit from Julia Duin's book "Quitting Church" in which she reports that many people she's interviewed who left a good church for whatever reason (job transfer, etc.) never got over the hole in their soul, because finding a good church is so hard. This was the year that my family really came to understand what a priceless gift we have in our church. Part of it was deepening friendships there, but I think on the whole, it was a couple of job prospects I was asked to consider this year -- jobs that would have required moving out of Texas -- that made Julie and I think hard about what we had been given in the people and the liturgies of St. Seraphim parish. Without fully realizing what had happened, we found the church home we'd been longing for since the beginning -- and having found it, knowing how hard it is to find a church like this, we have become more consciously rooted in it. That was the big lesson I learned from my life this year: to love my parish more, because it is a tremendous blessing.
How about you?
(By the way, here's a good recent interview with Julia about the themes in her book.)
Add to Del.icio.us
Add to Technorati
Add to Digg
Add to Newsvine
Add to Facebook
Add to StumbleUpon
Subscribe
I don't know if any of that made any sense. Trying to communicate what it has felt like to survive the past year or so, which I spent almost entirely in Iraq, and grieving the loss of my Dad and both grandfathers, is something of an exercise in futility. But here goes:
Over the past 18 months I learned that I don't know much of anything. Everything I relied on, held to be true about myself, and counted on has been greatly discounted. Too many of the people I cared most about died. Much of what I thought was important simply doesn't matter anymore. My foundations have been shaken. I'm uprooted, I'm adrift. I've found my limits, exceeded them, and have been nearly crushed.
I feel like I'm standing on some kind of precipice. But I'm still here. And it's funny, on some elemental level, a lot of this doesn't bother me. I don't how much of that is emotional numbness, and how much of it is some kind of a contrarian freedom. All I've got is a certainty that God intervened between me and some rather dark forces, and the fact that my family still has to take me in. Other than that, I don't know much of anything anymore. And I don't much care that I don't. And it's freeing.
Ah foiled again! Didn't mean to double post. And I meant to write, I don't know if any of this will make any sense...
I dislike Beliefnet's comment system!
AnotherBeliever,
I've read a lot of your posts. You're beautiful. You're strong. I've never experienced war, but I know that it's dark and not of God. Please be patient with yourself and know that the God who intervened for you is with you and will help you to heal. I'm sorry about the loss of your father and grandfathers. Be kind to yourself and don't despair. There's light in the world.
I learned what passes for civil discourse amongst crunchy cons.
And that Beliefnet's comment system sux.
I learned that, even after years of psychotherapy, it is still hard for me to stand up for myself, and express myself when I am upset, angry, or hurt. I tend to try and change myself rather than seeing my reactions as valid. And if someone invalidates my experience, I cave in too quickly. In 2009, I am going to try not to be a patsy.
Post a Comment
By submitting these comments, I agree to the beliefnet.com terms of service, rules of conduct and privacy policy (the "agreements"). I understand and agree that any content I post is licensed to beliefnet.com and may be used by beliefnet.com in accordance with the agreements.