Monday, November 12, 2018

6 Months On

I have to confess that I have been far behind in my posting of sermons and writings and so on.  It isn't that I haven't had the time.  There are a handful of half-finished posts and easily a dozen sermons hovering in my data. I am not sure what to call it, what is the word for having arrived and settled in and all being fine and self-care being good but still not feeling all thrilled-ness for no particular reason (and plenty of reasons).  The Ben Folds song Landed plays though my mind, and so I shall call it really-landed-ness.   Perhaps analogous to post-partum-ness, life is going on and well but hmm.  There are things of my most recent life that I miss - a constantly pulsing parish building, walking to cafe's, seeing the horizon.  Having moved and moved and moved I don't experience these missings as the end of the world, they simply are what they are.  Fall has deepened and I am still glad to wear my boots and layers, but putting away the summer clothes is still bittersweet.  I love exploring new places and have found a barkeeper who knows my name, and figured out where to find what I need, and achieved some preliminary successes.  But I haven't been posting.

I suspect that mostly this has been a tiredness of hearing myself preach, a little touch of imposter-syndrome and the above-named really-landed-ness.  (Also lack of convenient cafes with street facing barstool seats like the one I am holding right now.)  I have been a priest for 6 months and a solo pastor for 5 - between which I moved truly coast to coast.  Perhaps what I say each week sounded more interesting to me when I was hearing others more often, when I was only preaching every other week. 

Then this past weekend by blessing and by happenstance I was gifted with multiple reminders that while what I say may seem uninteresting to me, there are folks who experience it with delight and insight.  So going forward I will try harder to post more often, more texts.  Less really-landed-ness and more defying gravity.We are going to have to write this book of jubilation for ourselves.

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