The Other Side of the Storm

Underlying the maelstrom of angst at work has continued this question: am I running from or to?

Have I been excavating to the true Ellie, or wrapping her in new duds?

I have been more at peace this week, and it has been a letting go. I have amused myself--and my husband--with "the woman who wears this jacket has decided that we need to go out to eat tonight." "The woman who wears this jacket wants some good port and ancient cheddar now."

The woman who wears this jacket screwed up her courage to ask her husband to hold off a year between his last on-line course and heading to seminary so that money might be available for her also to take courses...but the conversation became "I am going to write a letter for discernment to be established" instead. And then, her husband said, "I've been thinking that I would really like to take a year between finishing my on-line courses....."

I am standing on a hilltop now, in one of my beautiful new jackets, thinking "The woman who wears this jacket is a woman who knows she is exploring a possible future, not running from an uncomfortable present."

I am afraid in all the best senses of the word, but also relieved.

Tonight at choir practice I will give our church board chair this letter:

"Over the past few years, I have been wrestling with what may be a call to ministry in our church.

Please accept this letter as my request to the Board for a Discernment Committee to be established for me to explore this call. I know that this process within our church necessitates public knowledge, but ask that my desire for privacy be respected as far as possible.

Thank you for your time, attention, and prayers."

of Pride and Prejudice...

A perfect weekend was planned by my book club. A river-side B & B in a classic period home, lunch at a fabulous restaurant, a 4:00 pm performance of Pride and Prejudice, and dinner at an even more fabulous restaurant...an hour or two to shop in a city bookstore...

And everything in me screamed against going. I don't like sharing a bathroom; I don't have the money for these restaurants; I've already seen the perfect stage adaptation of P & P, at Stratford...as the only owner of a van, I would have to be the driver...and my daughters need their Hallowe'en costumes and the bathroom still hasn't been painted...

I kept my mouth shut with pride and held my prejudices in abeyance, created a playlist on my iPod that nestled Coldplay next to Ella Fitzgerald, Rufus Wainwright next to Joni Mitchell, the Beatles next to Louis Armstrong, and packed my suitcase.

Under cold stars in our driveway, I sipped my coffee and greeted each member as she arrived...and by 6:45 a.m. we were on our way.

I truly love to feel the highway unrolling beneath my wheels. As the miles passed, the pleasant conversations and music did their duty...I could feel my spirit beginning to unfurl.

When our book club began 8 years ago, we were, for the most part, acquaintances. Within the world we have built together through our discussions of books, we have become deep friends.

I allowed myself to enjoy my friends and the spirit of our weekend. I could feel the shell of resentment I have been building for myself over the past few months crack and break away.

The inability to find a parking spot on the street in front of the restaurant turned into the discovery of a lovely boutique; the intimacy of sharing at the B & B led to a much needed mentoring; there was nothing in the weekend that was hollow or wrong...and I write this morning with the lightness of heart that comes from the secure knowledge that I have loving friends.

(And a new, hot pink cashmere jacket that I got half-price...and since I couldn't decide between two others, chose both.)

Some much-need renovation of my self has begun.

Where am I?

Where am I?

Good question.

It is easy to explain away August--the renovations of our house that had us living out of suitcases in other people's homes when we weren't out camping in the rain in our tents...

So too September--the start up of the school year, hitting the ground running, attending and presenting workshops--and, of course, the renovations still incomplete...

But now it is mid-October. I have done almost no writing. The stresses of my job are weighing more heavily than they ever have in my 21 year career. I feel unbalanced. I have lost perspective. I am going to be 50 and I don't know what to do when I grow up.

Wrestling with the concept of being called, I thought: okay, I'll enter discernment. After all, that's a process that will help me to know what I am to do.
And at that, a great dead silence.

I said, sure, God, okay...and there was nothing.

All through September...nothing. So that is not my path--unless I am meant always and only to hear the 'no's', and never the great grand 'yes!es'.

So here I am, which is I don't know where.

Waiting. Listening. Learning to let go.