Finally Processing Some...

 As I've blogged through my journal entries about my time in India, I've realized the first several days my journal functioned primarily as a narrated itinerary. Today a month ago, we were preparing for our final hours in Hyderabad, and because we had been on the ground for twelve days I had a glimmer of confidence in my ability to exist in this new place. It has taken this past month for me to let the experiences roll around in my body, mind and heart so I could attempt to begin articulating all that I learned and felt. To say our trip was dense is an understatement. Our first five nights were spent in a different hotel or bus (more on THAT in a bit...) so we were constantly on the move. I was intentional to take it all in - the smells of sandalwood, incense and smoke; all the sights - the colours, flowers, diverse cultural dress; the sounds of horns, voices, ambulances; the tastes of curry, rice, butter chicken, chilis; the feel of less personal space but greater welcome and the gift of growing familiarity with my travel companions. My senses were never on pause. The sensory intake alone made sleep come easy every night and made each morning begin with anticipation of the day's adventures. But the integration of all that sensory data into my being is still being done. 

According to my journal, I'm up to January 8th in my reflections - January 8th to the 9th was the hardest 24 hours for me on the trip. While it was "winter" where we were, it was warm. Locals wore winter coats while I was sweaty in my linen. We had been on the go since we landed four days prior, my ankles were still swollen from the 24 hour travel day and I'd not been by myself for more than ten minutes since I'd showered in the Qatar airport. This takes a toll on an introvert. January 8

th was Sunday and we began our day at worship in a Mar Thoma congregation in the native tongue, Malayalam.

Mar Thoma worship was a beautiful sensory overload. The sanctuary felt somewhat familiar, and I recognized the curtained off altar that was similar to the one we had seen in the Syrian Orthodox chapel the day before. We experienced the two and a half hour service in Kerala's native tongue Malayalam and stood for great lengths of time and sat a good deal as well. Men sat on one side of the church and women sat on the other. It was humbling to feel welcomed as a conspicuous outsider. I struggled with knowing when to cover my head, when to stand, when to pray. But our hosts were extraordinarily gracious - Dr. Mothy (our host in Kerala and faculty member at Mar Thoma Seminary in Kottayam) preached and kindly incorporated English phrases in his sermon so we could follow along. He spoke about our senses being windows through which we experience the world and cautioned us not to allow our sensual experiences as embodied beings to override our conscience. It was a beautiful and challenging message. 

There was a great deal of incense as part of the worship service and the man who was the incense bearer (is that even the right word? I don't know.) had 25 years experience in doing just that. It's no small matter - there are times when the censer is swung modestly and times that it is swung aggressively. There are times when the gentleman stood tall, times when he offered a slight bow and times when he was in a deep bow as he swung the censer. It appeared there was a pattern to how many times the censer was swung in different ways as well - I couldn't keep proper count because there was so much to take in. The altar was ornate and much of the service took place with the entire congregation facing east. There was a bell ringer and I jumped when the bell first tolled as I didn't expect it to happen. All the windows and doors were open to the outside and it felt like the most invitational church service I've ever attended because anyone could come and go. Children who got fidgety played in the driveway right outside the main doors, people walked forward to offer prayers, again to make our offering and again to receive communion. At one point we heard a protest outside the church making its way down the street. I have no idea what the protest was about, but holding that in tension with embodied worship of God was powerful. 

After worship we were invited into the rector's office for cookies and chai and we were able to talk about the service experience. I was unable ot form questions in the moment as I was still letting the experience soak in. We returned to the Chrysoberyl Hotel for a final lunch, only to find the hotel restaurant had been reserved for a private birthday luncheon. We deferred to our professors and they found another place to eat - we boarded the van to...wait for it...The Windsor Castle. 

At this point it is important for me to let you know that Dr. Nadella, our professor who hails from India, and whose "research interests include postcolonial biblical interpretation, migration and New Testament perspectives on economic justice," (www.day1.org), was walking into a hotel named The Windsor Castle in South India. Picture this - a group of VERY obvious tourists enter the lobby (this is real - not the actual beginning of a joke about light bulbs) and are ushered into the dining room. This group is in South India and YET we are walking into a room with red velvet chairs, brass fixtures and every piece of decor is British. There are portraits of Britain's kings and queens, an out-of-place portrait of Napoleon, and a poster size picture of Kate and William waving to their people just after getting married. The buffet was delicious and full of local flavours but we drank Coca Cola products. And we were with our professor whose passion is DEcolonization. This was dramatic irony on a Shakespearean level (pun intended)! The very best photo of the day was the one Dr. Nadella took of two classmates toasting with their Coke cans in front of a British royal's portrait (sadly I don't have that photo...you just have to trust me). 

This experience so brilliantly illustrates the myriad of juxtaposed images and realities that India shared with us. Here we were, in a nation about to celebrate only its 75th year of independence from England. A nation whose time is 10.5 hours ahead of my home because when Britain's colonization of India ended and Pakistan and Bangladesh were formed, they chose to have their time be between the time zones of the newly created nations that were part of their own until 75 years ago. We were surrounded by beautiful Indian people with varying shades of brown skin, yet there was this shrine to England in their midst and the number one selling beauty product in India is skin lightening cream. This collision of images and realities in a place I hadn't marinated in helped me better see some of the same types of juxtapositions in the US that I'd allowed to wash over me because I'd they are part of everyday reality. I think about how the US came to be - it began with colonizers and the pushing out of indigenous people, so many of our buildings built be enslaved peoples - it's complicated! My daughter now uses self-tanner to make her skin darker in a nation where darker skinned peoples' stories are riddled with violence at the hands of people who look like me. Caste in India is so pervasive and having it defined and seeing it lived helped me see that we too have similar structures that keep people neatly confined to categories they have not chosen. How do we work to dismantle the barriers that colonization and economics built while simulataneously lifting up ways to one another well? This is why processing this trip has taken (is taking) so much time. I can't take my observations of India and tie them up in a neat little package and file them away. What India taught me is to see my own reality more clearly - warts and all - and not be overwhelmed or depressed by the warts but instead to channel that energy into gracious welcome and hospitality and get to work. For ultimately, my story is bound up in the stories of others and the story I tell must be honest and make space for all the voices bound up with mine to be heard.

Travel Adventures in India Cont'd.

 "We've now been in India for 24 hours. The experience thus far has been one of overwhelming sensory overload, but has also been laced with consistently generous hospitality. I am surprised by the prevalence of images and statues of Jesus - even in our hotel lobby. Jesus is always light-skinned - even moreso than US depictions - a remant of the nation having been colonized by England for so long, I assume. Here the term 'secular' does not refer to the absence of faith as we often understand the word in western context. Instead, it speaks to the co-existence of multiple faiths - what a refreshing balm to lean into. However, that peaceful co-existence is being tested by the current Hindu Nationalist government which seeks to make all of India a Hindu nation. We are going to be learning more about that in our days here.

Today we took a 3-hour bus ride to Kottayam, still in Kerala. We visited 2 seminaries - one in the Syrian Orthodox tradition and another borne out of the Mar Thoma tradition. Our visit to the Syrian Orthodox Seminary brought the gift of a tour of the chapel and tea with students. The seminary's founder is interred inside the chapel and is from a long line of priests. We learned that family lines carry priesthood and the gentleman who shared the story of the seminary with us was a fourth generation priest. The chapel and altar had been refurbished in 2019 and it was magnificent. The colours, the ornate carvings, the images.

Painting over the arch entering the Syrian Orthodox Seminary

Various views of the Syrian Orthodox Seminary Campus

The altar remains behind the curtain until a certain point in the church service & only priests may approach the altar

The alcove to the left of the altar - behind the left hand red flag

The altar once the curtain was drawn back - look at the colours and carvings!

It should be noted that our visit, while scheduled, was simply to be a "look around" visit as the seminary was closed and most students were not on campus. However, a doctoral student noticed us and came directly to our group to offer over an hour of his time to share his story, his tradition and hospitality with us. We were, in effect, "surprise" guests and our friend, Father Mottye, had arranged for us to stop in but we were all surprised by the warm welcome since we had been prepared for just walking about. In the time it took for us to arrive, visit the chapel and learn a wee bit about the Syrian Orthodox tradition, a woman in the refectory area had prepared homemade Medu Vada (savoury donuts), fried bananas, and chai...homemade chai....

The shrine in the chapel to the seminary's founder

Our impromptu tour guide sharing with us the history of orthodoxy in India

Our spectacular tea experience - truly delicious and amazing

We were treated like royalty and were served a feast but the students and chef didn't join us to eat. From this tea, we traveled a short distance to the Mar Thoma Seminary in Kottayam. The Mar Thoma tradition is built upon the diciple Thomas' biblical teachings. We got to interact with the Mar Thoma students in a Q&A session followed by another tea - more fried bananas and homemade chai - it was lovely! Interestingly, we learned that extreme nationalism is as much an issue in India as it is in the US and we also share the same concerns around dimininished involvement of young people in the church. All students are men and they come from all over India and as well as outside the country. 

Mar Thoma Seminary

Mar Thoma - I have no photos of our hosts or our interactions because we were in conversation the whole time and photos never crossed my mind. But the campus is beautiful.

Finally, we finished our day meeting with Father Jerry - a Jacobite priest - and his wife Chris to discuss their traditions (most aligned with Catholocism but separate from Catholocism). We had frank discussion about caste, gender, and LGBTQ inclusion in the Jacobite church and we enjoyed dinner together. I took notes on what Father Jerry shared with us as his words seemed prophetic and I wanted to revisit them:

• Vulnerability sometimes leads to isolation
• Sometimes being pushed to a wall can lead to a conversation with someone on the other side of the wall, and that conversation can lead to self acceptance. But, it requires the courage to say something and not remain quiet.
• To be in the church is a struggle

It is no small thing to enter into honest dialogue with other people. To meet one another in our bare skin and share the good things and the hard things and everything in between is holy work. Father Jerry's wife, Chris, is German. She has completed seminary and is fully gifted in ministry, yet she is not ordained. It's a strange world we live in, in 2022, when people with equal education cannot achieve the same goals because of their gender. All the while, so much conversation goes on about gender identity, equality and such. We live in a world of juxtapositions that illustrate vividly the justice issues with which we must wrestle - especially as people of faith. India proved to hold contrasting images next to one another in a tangible way for me - the electrical infrastructure that is rudimentary compared to what I know in the US held against the backdrop of India being one of the most technologically inovative parts of the world. Women struggling to find a pathway to ordination in the church against the backdrop of mutual respect among various faith traditions. What I know in a new way is this - there is so very much work yet to be done.

View from our hotel room in Kottayam

Our table - where we had rich conversation and shared delicious food with one another, 

Father Jerry and Chris

The electrical infrastructure fascinated me far more than it would have if I weren't married to an engineer. Alas...Philip has impacted me in numerous ways!

Dusting off the Rust - Diary of Travel Wonders

I committeed to a Jan Term class sometime in September 2022 because it was required for graduation and because I felt really brave when I clicked the button saying I'd travel to India with seminary classmates in January. 2023 felt very far away - at least four classes away - and I was excited to go somewhere I'd never been and to be under the care of professors I deeply respect and wanted to know better. We spent the fall semester meeting periodically, reading material about gender issues, religion and politics, caste, and religious diversity in India. Our group of 11 total didn't know each other well - in all honesty, I'd never met any of my classmates in person until our first travel group meeting. I decided that was a bonus because we would spend much of our travels getting to know one another so we'd likely be on our best behaviour until we got comfortable with each other and by then it would be about time to come home. Cynical? Maybe. I prefer to think of it as an introvert's plan for existing in a very extroverted, public two week journey that caused me more stress as it approached. As the days and months passed and January drew near, my bravery began to melt away. My seminary account had been charged for the portion I was responsible to finance, my airline ticket bought, and yet still I pondered with increasing frequency ways I may wriggle out of the commitment to travel. I was intimidated by the 12 hour flight leg between New York and Qatar, I wasn't excited about being away from my family for 16 days, I knew I'd be missing work for 2 weeks and, honestly, the snarky voices of my homey comforts grew louder and more aggressive by the day. 

Our family had a lovely Christmas despite the growing cloud of anticipation laced with anxiety brewing inside me. I ordered my outlet adapter, packed up medicines I thought I may need while away, even got a new suitcase with a lock built in. Having a staff meeting the morning of my flight was a welcomed distraction from waiting all day to meet my travel group at 3pm. As luck would have it, our kids weren't scheduled to go back to school until January 5th, so the four of us struck out at 2pm to head to Decatur and meet up with my group to shuttle our way to the airport. Once Philip and the kids hugged me bye and left the parking lot, there was no option. I was India bound.

Our flight left at 7:30pm on January 4, we had a layover at JFK until 11:30pm and our next stop found us in Qatar twelve hours later but I had no idea what day or time it was. The Qatar airport was remarkable - the most impressive offering at the airport was the option to pay and take a shower. Honestly, it was the best $27 I'd ever spent. We had been travelling 20+ hours at this point and I'd been surrounded by people and that $27 got me a private suite, complete with hot water, good smelling soap and the luxury of a hairdryer. I had 25 minutes of silence and was able to wash travel weariness down the drain. Then I took some time to journal.

    "It's somewhere between January 4th & 6th of 2023 and to my list of firsts, at age 46, I can now             add:     
      - Surviving a 12 hour flight
      - Showering for $27 in the Doha, Qatar airport spa

    It is surreal to be sitting in Qatar and I've bought the family World Cup t-shirts since it was played         here a month ago. The airport here is a modern, sleek affair with a Harrod's, Hermes, Louis Vuitton     and more. The people around me are a delicious representation of God's creativity and I am enjoying     hearing many languages and witnessing different cultural traditions in people as they pass by in a        robust variety of clothing. 

Takes airport shopping to a whole new level...

This bear was taller than any human I know...and I don't understand the light in its head...

    It is a joy to have a travel group I don't know too well, but with whom I share an identity as CTS             student. I have no idea what time it is or what time zone we are in. We find out our departure gate         soon and have one more 4-hour leg to go before we reach Kochi. I suppose the current time is                 immaterial - I think when we deplane the final time it will be 8:30am and I will be walking in India.        I'm fascinated to discover the treasures of such a vastly different place and drink in the culture and         bask in the sights, sounds and smells. I'm completely anxious that an overnight bus ride awaits us at      some point, but figure it will only include our group and that is likely to beat the flight from NYC to     Doha.

    I am keenly aware this is the longest I've ever been away from Philip, Lydia and Henry and my heart     already aches to see their faces and hug them tightly. I feel deeply guilty about missing Henry's 18th     birthday and wonder how I will make that up to him. Philip is doing all manner of house and life            stuff and I know that when I get back that Henry and Lydia will look like grown adults and I may not     recognize our house. Alas, I anticipate the homecoming even in the midst of  anticipating arriving        in India."

We boarded our next flight and landed four hours later in Kerala, India. Kerala is the state - we landed in the city of Cochin. We got to Customs at about 8:30am on Friday, January 6th, local time and my travel companions and I calculated it was 10pm on Thursday, January 5th in Atlanta. We were 10.5 hours ahead but the long travel day and our immediate jump into exploration seemed to erase the time difference. 

Baggage Claim Welcome

The ceiling of our van - her name was Sharon.

Suffice it to say, a group of 10 people coming from the US to South India can be alarming to Customs agents so we split into different lines and waited our turn to share we had come to explore India as tourists. There were many light skinned people in the line ups so I didn't stick out as much as I had imagined. I learned later that Kochi is a good entry point for foreigners and it is also the place where Christianity originally entered India; being that we were coming to India on a seminary study trip, it made sense for us to enter here as well. We crossed through the Duty Free shop en route to baggage claim and immediately our being in a new place was obvious. Once we gathered our luggage, we met up with our second professor, who had arrived earlier to visit with family, and we boarded the van that would be our primary mode of transportation for the next 4 days.

We went straight to our hotel - The Grand Hotel - a 45 minute adventure ride from the airport. It seemed that lines on roads were for decoration as I observed the intricate dance that cars performed to the tune of a cacophony of horns that spoke their own language to one another. It was good that I was tired because the weariness dulled the anxiety that being a passenger in India induced. Somehow the chaos was ordered - it worked. We dropped our bags and headed straight for the coast where we experienced the redefinition of winter and toasted one another with our green coconuts that had been equipped with straws for us to drink of their water. We watched local fishermen lower their nets into the Arabian Sea and draw them back from the water with hopes they'd be full of fish. The fishermen stood poised to welcome our group as apprectices and invited us to participate in hauling in the day's catch...for a small fee. After, we walked our coconut toting selves down the street and through a lovely garden that opened up to The Seagull Restaurant. We shared a variety of Indian favourites as we dined al fresco overlooking the Arabian Sea. We were sitting on the banks of the Arabian Sea. That evening I journaled some more:

Strangely, every Jesus depiction we saw was super Anglo - and he had holes in his hands and his heart was always glowing. Kind of an ET meets crucifixion vibe...

Christmas decor still in full force - waiting for Epiphany to arrive

Fishing nets

Seminary students go fishing

]

Coconut water tastes better from coconuts than plastic bottles

    "After lunch we traveled to a Portugese/Dutch Church where Vasco de Gama originally was interred     -there was evidence of various colonial impacts to the church, most notably the facade which had         been stuccoed. There were fans inside that were designed so that people would stand outside the             church and operate by pulling ropes, so the worshippers inside enjoyed moving air. While it was a         fascinating engineering feat, the images that came to mind felt oppressive - I began to see India's         complexities beginning to emerge. 

16th Century Church

Isn't this a cool tree?

Portugese Church

History of said church - zoom in to read...

Vasco de Gama's original tomb - interesting juxtaposition - a colonial explorer hailed in a local church. His remains have now been returned to Portugal - another layer of complexity to ponder...

That fabric piece attached to the wooden beam is the fan I write about. The ropes leading to the walls actually went thru holes in the wall so people outside could pull them and force air to move in the worship space.

    Our next stop was a neighbourhood, literally called "Jew Town", because it had been inhabited by a      Jewish community up until the creation of Palestine when most of India's Jewish residents relocated.     However, there is still a synagogue in the Square and we bore witness to the ways secularism in India     doesn't imply an absence of faith - instead, it illustrates multiple faith traditions existing alongside        one another. There were lots of shops and markets that we perused and we were consistently invited        in. I found myself overwhelmed by the enormity of the current reality and could not really            absorb what all of our options were. Tiredness was setting in and we made our way back to the               Grand Hotel for a brief taste of rest before dinner. Dr. Moore-Keish led us in an Epiphany devotion        before we retired for the night. I'm sure sleep will come easy.

Shopping in Jew Town

Built in 1568 - FIFTEEN SIXTY EIGHT...this is a big deal!

Depiction of the Last Supper at a Coffee House while we shopped - we were fascinated by the imagery. There's both male and female and we were particularly interested in which hands belonged to whom on the left. Discerning what is going on made for a fun game for very tired people.

Boats on the Arabian Sea - you could rent one to take you on a tour.

One of the street markets at the beginning of Jew Town.

Winter Blahs

I definitely have the winter blahs – do you? Lately, these have looked like wanting to sleep ALLTHETIME, not feeling motivated to do much of anything but slogging through anyway. I could wear my pajamas to work and not talk to anybody – especially on the phone – I hate the phone. A piece of me wonders if having a break was helpful or if it has given me a serious case of the ‘whatevers’. I'm also convinced showing up often equates to ringing the victory bell. But I’m particularly tired of counting people’s quarantine times, wondering if every sniffle is quarantine-able and full moon tomfoolery. This being the morning after a full moon included the following before 830am (I am not a morning person):

• ·      I hit snooze 4 times (squarely on me, but I’m convinced influenced by the fool moon)
• ·         My business manager’s computer is dead. It wouldn’t turn on this morning AT ALL
• ·         Internet and phones are inoperable at our preschool – this presents a very real issue when working in a preschool
• ·         A staff member’s car broke down
• ·         Another staff member didn’t show up because they thought their class had been quarantined (it had not)
• ·         My cell phone is not working properly and its my only connection to the outside world at the moment

While these truly are little, first world issues comparatively, they add up quickly and require more energy than the Winter Blahs are wont to share. I know this too shall pass but anticipate the passage feeling like a kidney stone. So if you’re feeling down and blue, know you’re not alone. This season is heavy and dense and tiresome. Perhaps real snow this weekend may make it better? I mean even our predicted snow-pocalypse seemed weary last week. Perhaps a brisk walk will inspire endorphins (that’s just precious – it’s like the tundra out there)? Maybe a healthy kale salad as comfort food (if you choose this option, please don’t tell me)? I don’t know the answer because my heart is telling me to go home, put on my comfy, and take a nap even when my head reminds me I’m starting a new ministry internship today. What I’ve landed on is this – I’m going to be gentle with myself and everyone I meet today. For I know I’m not the only one helping carry the weight of these days and I’m deeply grateful to know we share this together in community. If anything gives you hope today, may it be the deep conviction that we aren’t in this alone and that brighter days are ahead…even if they’re further down the road than we’d like.

Reorientation

I've worn my hair in a ponytail for 10 days straight, and I've been highly irritated with the weather for the previous nine days. I am not sure what day of the week it is or what the actual date is and we're in the season of writing the wrong year for the next several weeks. I love ponytails, it's fun for a bit to forget what day/date it is and I live for the day when leggings and sweatshirts are promoted to business casual. And yet - I've arrived at the place in this 'break' where I feel disoriented - a state certainly made worse by the bizarre weather we've had. The weather apparently felt disoriented too - we went from 70 degrees yesterday to a light dusting of snow this morning - it's all gone now, but it finally feels like an authentic Sun-mon-tues-whatever-day in January. 

Here we are - reorientation season in the year 2021, I mean 2022. I'm almost ready to re-establish routine, find a rhythm and get back to it. And yet - I've just delayed the start of preschool until January 10 for students thanks to Covid. Remember the good ole days when we heard the word 'pandemic' and thought of the past? I miss those good ole days. Along with 'pandemic', I'd like to retire the following words: pivot, unprecedented, surge, masks, social distance; let's also retire the practice of having not only a Plan A & B, but plans C, D, E, F, & G. 

So friends, what even is re-orienting in these days? Are consistent rhythms even possible? I don't have answers to these questions but I am pleased to say a shift from the rhythm that emerged
August-December has fueled me to try to figure them out. May grace abound throughout the quest and may wonder and gratitude be my north star as a new year, with some leftover warts of the previous year, hits its stride. 

Auld Lang Syne

I asked Google what those words actually mean - Auld Lang Syne - I've sung it for years as this very day breaks into tomorrow and realized I've been breaking the rule we hold our children to of not saying (or singing) words we don't know the meaning of. Here's what I found out thanks to dictionary.com: the words are from the Scot tradition and literally mean "old long since" and refer to old times, especially times fondly remembered or an old or long friendship. Fascinating - especially I heard on the radio about 20 minutes ago that 2021 has decided to take America's best friend, Betty White, away from us today - talk about adding insult to injury. Yet I'll probably still sing these words when the clock strikes bedtime (which may or may not be before midnight). So this afternoon I'm pondering the fond times and old friendships of this relative dumpster fire of a year and I've landed on the fact that 2021 was a year of revelation and realization. For starters - this Christmas break has been overflowing with opportunities to truly take a break. Preschool and graduate school ended within 36 hours of each other and I'm not taking a Jan term class, so I have literally been able to unplug. It was initially a challenge, I teetered on the edge of boredom but didn't succumb, and here's what almost 2 whole weeks unplugged looked like for me:

• I've composed 2 blog posts - I don't remember the last time I did this within a week's span, but gosh it has felt like home to write creatively again
• I've swept and mopped our floors twice - if this is something you do  weekly, please don't tell me. Little gives me the simple joy like the feel of clean floors under my bare feet and rarely do I have bandwidth to mop this frequently
• I read a book for FUN - in 2 days - and didn't have to post something on Moodle (if you know, you know) or write a paper about it...more about that later...
• I've taken naps - that's plural - on more than one day of this break
• I've left my computer OFF for more than one day - JOY!
• We've had great family time - immediate and extended. There have been board games, laughs, movies and football

But the revelation part of 2021? WHOA - that fun book I read? It shone a light on some pieces of my self that need some work. I don't make New Year's resolutions because I straight up don't keep them, but now that I know some of these things about myself, the trajectory of 2022 has been defined. Here's what has been revealed:

• I have gotten so busy I haven't done the work to invest in community. When we moved to Marietta, I decided this was a pre-determined temporary stop on our path back to Vancouver. We told the kids not to get too invested in our house because we were going to sell it the minute Lydia graduated and downsize or move back to Vancouver. I told myself I could take some years of driving everywhere because we'd soon enough move back to Vancouver and be able to walk everywhere again. Do you sense a theme? I've gotnwork to do on that "bloom where you're planted" bit. This Christmas Philip gave me Indigo Girls tickets and everyone I was comfortable inviting to go with me to that concert lived out of town, except one person. And then I read Sophie Hudson's book, Stand All the Way Up: Stories of Staying in it When You Want to Burn it All Down. She wrote about a Christmas Eve when she, her husband and her son spent the evening alone eating at a Popeye's and how she realized the importance of leaning into community. I felt like I'd been hit in the face with a frying pan because my introvert really loves to be at home but I also love to have friends to share Indigo Girls with who live nearby. I know lots of people, but I haven't tried to let very many people know me - this, friends, is a growing edge and means I may have to wear a bra more in my 'off' time, engage in conversation when my words are worn out, ask for help (growing edge #2), and make some friends with whom I can spend an evening!
• In the midst of growing my education, I've let my physical self go. I immediately gained weight when we moved back to the States (see above reference to driving everywhere). See also - mac and cheese is a vegetable here, so is cornbread... See also - Moodle posts and paper writing aren't typically active engagements other than mentally. See also - perimenopause and it's trickery (at this point, I must implore you if you've ever made fun of a woman and her hot flashes in your life, stop IMMEDIATELY what you are doing, go to them, fall to your knees, beg for mercy, and apologize like you life depends on it - HOT FLASHES ARE NO JOKE). This year, I'm going to try to get stronger - would love to lose weight, but would love more to feel strong. That means moving more, looking more intently for audio books to listen to while walking, and creating opportunities for Forced Family Fun that are outside.
• 2020 + 2021 = feeling angry and frustrated a lot of the time. The goal for 2022 is to shift focus of that anger away from trying to resolve it and move toward healing it. Remembering that depression  is anger turned inward reminds me that I don't want anger to fester, I don't want to push it down or wallow in it either - it's toxic. Sophie Hudson suggested looking at our anger in a confessional style, naming that it needs redemption and I'm going to give that a whirl too. It sounds freeing just reading about it and seems like it makes better space for good times that I'll remember fondly when I sing Auld Lang Syne this time next year.

There's something scary about putting all this into the real world, but there's something liberating about it too - maybe writing the words will cement them in my being and solidify them as my intention. Maybe writing them down where I can read them again will remind me that reading books for fun and naps should be part of life even when we aren't on break. Maybe, sharing these words so publicly will make me feel more accountable. Whatever the case, I hope when we're back together in 2022 that life feels a bit more manageable, that in the next 12 months we can find other Betty Whites to look to as examples of longevity and good sense, that new friendships will have been cemented so they are able to grow into old friendships. Happy New Year, friends - may our growing edges make themselves known and may we all figure out how we can love our neighbours more intentionally and better than we have yet.

Silent Night

There were a lot of years that Christmas wasn't really Christmas unless I stood with my family in a darkened sanctuary and watched light grow as a flame was passed from candle to candle while singing Silent Night. There was something about singing those words in the glow of candles with no other sounds than voices singing that reoriented me to the space and time that is Christmas Eve. 

The Silent Night years  were followed by the chaos of family Christmas Eve services - affectionately known as Bedlam in Bethlehem - where our children participated in an impromptu Christmas pageant. I couldn't tell you the final song of those years because I was just hoping neither of my children fell down the chancel steps or pulled off Mary's headgear. The family service marked the beginning of what was sometimes a very long night of assembly and coordination.

Since the family service years, we've bobbled about looking for our place on Christmas Eve - sometimes at a chuch service, sometimes with friends, last year reading the Christmas story with friends in their home. I haven't found that same moment of reorientation that pre-dated the family service years just yet. I don't know if it's because the chaos and joy and anticipation palpably present among the children with crooked haloes and makeshift costumes imbedded itself in me more than I realized, or if it's because I find it harder to shut everything out save the words of that hymn. But the words are imbedded deep within me regardless of the noise with which they compete:

Silent night, holy night!
All is calm, all is bright.
Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child.
Holy infant so tender and mild,
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace.

Silent night, holy night!
Shepherds quake at the sight.
Glories stream from heaven afar
Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia,
Christ the Saviour is born!
Christ the Saviour is born

Silent night, holy night!
Son of God love’s pure light.
Radiant beams from Thy holy face
With dawn of redeeming grace,
Jesus Lord, at Thy birth
Jesus Lord, at Thy birth.

This is always my favourite Christmas picture - I take it every year. But it's just a snapshot in time and somehow reminds me of the power of silence and being still. Thematically, it would have been far better if this brief moment where the living room was clean and peaceful had happened at night, but it's real life. And maybe that's why I like this picture so much - real life breaks into our silence, interrupting our quest for spotless holiness, and that frustrates me but this photo captures a moment of peace and quiet. I find there's power in carving out time to be still and I think that's why singing Silent Night in a darkened sanctuary making space for light to grow on Christmas Eve is such a touchpoint for me. 

I'm reminded of how Mary and Joseph must have felt after Jesus' birth - when the chaos of the birthing process had calmed, the sun was nowhere in sight and it was just the new family of three nestled in the barn with animals watching. Holy silence on that first Christmas had to be overwhelming but they leaned into it and trusted their child's destiny. I wonder if we carve out silence for ourselves if we will hear the still, small voice that guides us on our way to who we're called to be. I wonder if we stop and really try to block out the noise of the world, if we can let all of the weight of our emotions wash through us so they don't get stuck in us and if we'll find sleep and heavenly peace.

Friends - we're living in dense times but the words of the angels still ring true - "Do not be afraid" for good news has come. May we make room for holy silence, for despair to pass through so there is room for hope. And tonight, on this Christmas Eve, may be reorient ourselves to the grace and mystery of that first Christmas knowing the greatest hope came in the form of a tiny baby. Tonight - maybe our family will go back to the family service to reacquaint ourselves with joyful anticipation and the invitation to imperfection in celebrating Jesus' birth. After all - tradition for tradition sake can be an empty shell if it makes no space for God to break in and turn things upside down.