In a 'life is regular' reality, Fridays already have a heightened sense to them. End of the work week, beginning of the weekend sort of deal.
But in this space between for me, this particular Friday strikes me as unique. Poetic even.
A week ago I brought my body home.
A week later now my soul, wisps of it anyways, lingers there.
I don't rush it. Souls are not things to be hurried anyways. And what happened for me in Thailand from September up until now is too much of a cherished thing to shake it off (as if I could) and jump recklessly into all that requires muster of me now that I'm back.
'Chaah chaah'. Slowly, slowly. It's even said slow and a little breathy, to remind me that hurry is ruthless and sneaky and unnecessary much of the time.
Felt it just a little this week. Despite all my best attempts not to let Christmas be reduced to a list of things that need to be accomplished by the 25th, I let that very thought slip into my mind. The pressure mounted just a little when I looked at all the gifts (oh the blessings) and realized they still needed to be wrapped (for some reason not my favourite Christmas activity). Normally by now this would be finished, but this year the timing of my return has left it to the last. Looking at the calendar I realized how few opportunities there would be to get that done. And the jet lag, while so much less than other times, does still want its due.
Sigh.
One week until Christmas morning.
A leaving behind.
A welcoming.
Aching for beloveds.
Rejoicing in beloveds.
And God all inside of it,
Incarnate in not just this Friday-day,
but in the movement of my soul between two worlds.
So I stay here, suspended,
and let that be okay.
More, I let it be Wonderful
Worshipful
Christmas-ful.
Wondering....
What was it like for God
to do this 'between two worlds' thing?
And I ponder on that slowly.
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