I sit among the libraries
the collections
the archives
and I strain to hear Your voice.
but the books are silent,
dust gathering on their crowns.
I wonder:
have they stopped speaking?
or have I lost my ability to hear?
and yet, the robin
summer-mother, her fledgelings flown,
still sings in the dying hemlock
in the early morning hours,
and in her voice I hear an ancient echo
of the song that woke the waters
and spun stars like gold
from time's wool.
On Saturday, I celebrated my 35th birthday. To me, birthdays are the perfect excuse to take stock, take a pause, think through where you are and where you want to go, and ask yourself: do they still match?
So after some gentle, soul-filling festivities yesterday with family, I sat down with a notebook and pen and wrote down a few things I’d like to focus on, to revisit, to find my way back to.
At my best, I am a very tactile person. God speaks to me through my senses; it’s just how He made me. But this also means that when the going gets tough, the first thing to disappear is my sense of groundedness, of being present and active in my body. I escape into my head and feel trapped there. And I think we can all agree that the last few years have been…interesting, in ways that are unique to each story, so I’ve found myself hiding in my head more than I’d like to admit.
Standing on the edge of my 35th birthday, I realized that there were some things—some good, fulfilling things—that I had lapsed in doing, simply because I wasn’t prioritizing them. The garden has fallen by the wayside, I’m woefully behind on harvesting and preserving what we do have, and the increasingly-untidy house reflects my own messy feelings. Overwhelmed, I have been spending time distracting myself, hoping the tasks would go away.
But, most of all, at the core of it: I have not prioritized daily spiritual practice the way I once did.
As a tactile person, I love my devotional tools. The tangible things I can hold and savor to remind me of the invisible God. But all of the prayer books, all of the devotionals, all of the prayer cards and prayer beads and illuminated art and desktop labyrinths and smooth wooden crosses that you can hold in your hand are ultimately fruitless, if you’re too overwhelmed to use them.
So. My 35th year begins with hopeful penitence, approaching my Father with hands open and empty, because I know He can fix what I’ve gotten myself into. He always does.
And I start small. With my head covered, the daily veil a symbol, a reminder of my fresh purpose, and nothing on my lips but the psalms, every morning. There is no hurry.
Yesterday, I began watering the garden again, whispering my apologies into the soil. Soon, I will pull last year’s berries out of the freezer and can them up into jam so we can harvest this season’s bounty. One task at a time, one tiny goal for each day, celebrating every one as their own victory.
Slowly, I move forward. I take the smallest steps I can, every day, to let God lead me back to the path I strayed off of.
True, it may look different now, but that’s just the beauty of getting older.
Discussion Question:
When you are struggling, what do you use to escape? And when you find yourself straying off your own spiritual path, what remedies bring you back?
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This was incredibly relatable. I've been feeling the exact same way this summer. I've let the garden go (I am grateful for the native plants that take care of themselves for the most part so there's at least a little beauty to be seen). As you stated our "increasingly-untidy house reflects my own messy feelings" ... Well said! As August progresses, and I get closer to the insanely busy season at work in October and November, I have been ever-so-slowly tackling things one at a time, trying to be patient and give myself grace as I try to ground myself in Spiritual practices again. I've found helpful to do practical things like close the YouTube tab so I'm not tempted to keep scrolling videos. Choosing stillness over noise (aka distraction) - even if just for a few moments. Most of all learning to let go of the all-or-nothing mentality I tend to have. None of this has to be perfect, there is grace in every moment. Our God is a God who orders the chaos...even the chaos we make on our own. I know I'll eventually get there with His help.
Great question. Distraction is my escape. I will bombard my senses with anything and everything to avoid confronting the struggle head on. Notes has been my recent crutch and I'm only coming around to...grappling with that? Balancing it in the scale of all things.
How I come back--one of the things I really appreciate about the Catholic tradition is the sacrament of reconciliation. I go in feeling heavy and burdened, and leave feeling light and lifted. It's a great spiritual reset, and I usually find myself with a little more spiritual resolve to undertake my devotions with a little more intentionality. From the act of contrition: "I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace, to confess my sins, to do penance, and to amend my life. Amen"--I really try to leave the confessional with that firm resolve.
The other thing that really helps me with that is that I go in full of self-accusations, and I leave full of self-affirmations. When I haven't been to confession in a while, I convince myself I am the chief of sinners, earths lowest creature, the farthest person from the grace of God. I tell myself I get the confession God wants me to have, and throughout my life as a Catholic sometimes I have been admonished, sometimes I have been uplifted, sometimes I get advice. But sometimes, when my sins weight heaviest, I go and I get...nothing at all. Christ absolves me from my sins *as if they were NOTHING*. and that's always remarkable to me. One moment I'm the worst, the next moment Christ is nonchalantly giving me absolution because there's no sin greater than God. And that is a reassuring thought, especially when I am feeling low.
Thank you for occasioning these reflections. Never a bad time to remember the mercy of God. God bless you in this new year of life!