This time last year

This time last year it was sunny in California and warm. I spent July 2009 at Mercy Center doing an internship in the Art of Spiritual Direction with people from all over the country and from several countries around the world. I loved it. Loved it. It was the most life giving month. I felt so at home and unfastened, so cared for and exposed. I miss it. I miss the people and the place - the labyrinth, the oak trees, the wooded paths, the creek, the birds, the chapel, the dining room, the little rooms, yoga before breakfast on the outdoor patio, looking out my bedroom window to the eucalyptus trees and the sunrise, looking down at the patio and seeing Jim drying his clothes outside, the runners coming to breakfast sweaty, Sister Mary Ellen sitting alone at a table with her eyes intensely closed at our silent breakfasts (I think she was praying for us), singing, laughing at meals with Brother Mark, walking outside in the sun, swimming in the afternoons, nervous pulse rates during fish bowls, rushing to type daily verbatims during the home retreat week, meeting Theresa in the hallway after said rushing for our daily supervision appointments and exchanging pieces of chocolate and a hug, praying a hundred different ways, Eucharist, shedding quite a few tears, and filling journals.

I've felt achey in my body a couple times this past week when I've remembered being there and what I was doing everyday and who I was being this time last year. That's kind of a crazy sentence, as if I could be anyone other than myself. But, I did feel more like myself and utterly living to the beat of a different drum. Especially when the suns out, I can almost feel being there.

Who wouldn't love having their meals prepared for them everyday and no bathrooms to clean? It was a charmed month. I don't think I could type it all here. All the things I learned, all the precious people I met, and precious, old friends that I spent time with on the weekend breaks. I might write more about it in the coming weeks if it remains on my mind.

Last summer on the Friday of my birthday weekend we sat outside on the dining patio and shared our evening hours before the weekend break telling birthday stories and laughing really hard and sighing a little bit too. A couple of my new friends took a white table cloth of a nearby table and wrapped it around me, a makeshift cape after hearing that I wanted a cape like Batman.

Lest I recreate the month to be all sunshine I was looking a picture of me this morning at the beach close to the end of the Mercy Center month wrapped in a towel because I was cold, just like today.

I came home high on Mercy Center and high on a weekend with my best friend. Shell pulled back. Still. Hopeful. Full of feelings. Full of Vitamin D. I received 3 prescriptions from the Holy Spirit that month.

One of them was beat me over the head clear the other two were nudges that I resisted for awhile. I realize today that I did fill them, all three.

1. Find a worshipping community. All that singing, praying, and Eucharist softened me to the point that I realized it's essential place in my life. Enter Liberation. I didn't need to shop around I knew where I wanted to go and the kick in the ass from the Holy Spirit finally got me there.

Pause for months of slug slow ass motion and resistance. "I'll just do it on my own and think about it for awhile." And then,

2. Find a therapist - check.

3. Visit Seattle U's School of Theology and Ministry - check. No decisions made, but I'm glad I went. I know for sure that I won't be doing the MATS degree and got some clarity about what I would do if I went there and some new options. Told my friend Kelly last week maybe I was inching my way towards seminary and she said "I wish you would just plow your way there." It's good to have exhausted of my process friends in my life to give me a loving shove once in awhile. Currently seeking ways to get there without a $100k price tag.

It's a process not an event. R. loves to remind me that I love this phrase and maybe I should think about it for my own life instead of craving relief and escape.

Working on my willingness to take suggestions and my willingness to leave what I know for the unknown. It's time.

It's been quite a year, an amazing year. When I reflect on all the things I've been invited to do and surprised with since last July I'm almost tearfully thankful - retreat leader, retreat co-leader, wedding officiant, spiritual director, jury member, best friend, godmother, friend, daughter, sister, girlfriend, lover, volunteer, witness, participant, communion celebrant, prayer, singer. I learned what it is to set love free and experience it coming back to me with no guarantees. I've been invited to be me over and over again, every single day, moment by moment.

Strangely, but not surprisingly, I'm not feeling like myself this past month. Again, crazy sentence, this is me, this is my life. Now that the deadline has passed, but the work that remains to be done hasn't, I sit at my desk and find myself just staring at my computer monitor with adrenaline fatigue. Surveying the piles of paper around me and needing to rev up for the next push and waiting for the cliffs edge that we keep hearing about where the work falls off drastically. Wishing that I could share the work with all of my architect friends who NEED work and a paycheck, who'd give anything to have some meaty work to bite in to. Thankful to have today off from work. I was hoping the sun would be my date for the day, but alas it's a sweater and coffee shops instead. Not too bad at all. And praying for the energy and focus to dive in and finish what needs to be done instead of wasting time whining about it.

Miss you Kelly and Anita. Miss you Sisters and Priests, nurses and teachers, Brothers and Jesuits, miss you quiet Buddha in the garden, miss you Heather and San Francisco, miss you Glenda, miss you warm bright sun, miss you, Emily. Come home soon. I'll keep my eyes open for you on the yoga mat and in the pews, at the parks and in the coffee shops, with your friends and in the quiet times.

Don't be afraid.

God's heart is as big as the ocean.

Lie back.

Let go.

Thanks for the pictures, Julia. Remembering our sweet days in San Francisco at the end of the month and the day that we found this labyrinth in particular. I know we were pinching each other.