It hardly seems worth the pixels to write a summary for a year when I’ve written one and a half blog posts, at all. But it’s been like that. So like that.
Since the non-cancer diagnosis in late October, I’ve been trying to keep up with thing after blessed thing, scraped thin and having limited success with keeping all the plates spinning and not crashing violently to the floor. I can honestly say that I’m glad I don’t have cancer (at least, as far as anyone knows) but at the same time, the watching and waiting and vague uncomfortable symptoms that are the new normal are… not resting well. I want answers, and good ones, but that’s not how this goes.
The play-by-play of several weeks of congregational internship work will not be recorded here in full; best gloss that over as hit after hit of emotionally intense work on top of more emotionally intense work. One of the public parts was the disappearance of one of our congregational committee leaders, who went missing and was presumed dead in late November. His body has not yet been found and is believed to have washed out to sea.
I was unsuccessful at my denominational credentialing interview and invited to return and re-interview at a later time. I am writing that in public because I am unwilling to feed the shame that lingers around unsuccessful interviews. I knew going in that I wasn’t as fully prepared as I wanted to be – the previous three months had taken their toll – and received some valuable feedback on areas where I can continue working. But it’s still a disappointment and a frustration that leaves a lot of things up in the air.
December has been a month of trying to patch together my ragged worn-out spirit and deliver on all the loose ends of things that I have pledged to do. I need to finish my coursework in order to graduate in May. I need to pack my suitcase for one last trip to Chicago, soon, to take the last class of my MDiv. And I need to find ways to take better care of my body and my soul – more art, more music, more rest. I have been sick a lot this year, between two months of respiratory illness in the late spring and my current nemesis, a bout of asthmatic bronchitis that’s flared up in the early bitter cold weather these last couple of weeks; never mind the mysterious and unpleasant autoimmune things going on under the surface.
This flesh is not a happy comfortable place to be right now. It is hard to be present and open to experience in this body. And I have not had the strength of spirit or the depth of soul to care much about the vast sorrows of the world lately – something I need to regain connection with in order to feed my call.
But first, rest.
And tomorrow, a new calendar, and resolutions, and an honest effort to bring to fruition some of the many things I have started.