In my mind 2013 was clearly divided into two parts; sane and insane. Only on the calendar it was reversed.
On this day last year, January 1, 2013, the insanity that had started my very first day back from the cottage that previous August, spilled over into the new year, stringing out into what would become days, weeks and months of non-stop, unpredictable, unrelated stresses. It's true enough that my life is intrinsically entwined with the lives of about 100 other people in a community of faith that values authenticity, and that in itself is an invitation to the unexpected messes of reality. Pastors are expected to become involved in all manner of situations without much notice. And it's often an intensive kind of involvement. Part of the territory for sure.
But in the 30 plus years I have been involved in this kind of work, both as a volunteer and otherwise, I cannot remember a time when the weirdness factor was quite so high. So much. So intense. So relentless.
Serious medical crises, conflicts over policy and practice, walking someone through a criminal investigation, and three deaths in 11 days. None of this ever showed up on the radar until it was urgent. No planning possible. At all. For months I was thrust into a zone of my least competency - flying by the seat of my pants. For months.
And then of course, there's my own stuff going on.
My daughter and two of our grandchildren, who had lived with us for the past three years, had moved out just before Christmas. And while this was very positive move, something we had been working toward together, representing strong things for our family, I found myself grieving harder than I expected at the sudden absence of their little selves in my daily life. Because they were still relatively close and we saw them at least once a week, it was hard to explain, even perhaps to myself, why I was feeling it so strongly, why the sadness was so much. I didn't talk about it too much because, well, it sounded silly.
I was nursing some grudges during that time as well. Old stuff. At least eight years old, if not longer. And I'm ashamed of it, because I know better. I preach better on this than I was living it then, at the beginning of 2013. And it's stupid. Because the energies required to hold on to past hurts, and the brain space needed to keep thinking about it and trying to figure out why you were betrayed like that, and how badly you were duped into thinking a relationship was one thing when it really wasn't, and how all that swims around in your head like a stew of disgusting leftovers, really makes grudge-nursing a truly inefficient way to live internally.
But it was there, and I was working on it, but wasn't really gaining any freedom from it.
So all this external stuff and all this internal stuff.
And I got to the cottage and laid down and thought I might never be able to get up again.
Except my first 10 hour sleep later I did. And made a cup of tea and sat out on the deck and begged my way through Psalm 91. All five, gasping, life-saving weeks of it.
She who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty, it begins. And so began a new learning. Learning to dwell, live in, God, like He is my house.
I came home and everything was different. Like, completely different. It was like the insanity quotient for the year had run out, and now I was in the sane part. I know that's not true. I have had times when the insanity just keeps coming. But 2013, totally divided.
I sat in the sunshine in August by the pond near the church and read in preparation for Christmas sermons. I completed another credit towards my MDiv, mostly sitting outside in the courtyard at the school. In leading Highview, I was able to map out weeks in advance and watch in wonder as everything got checked off my lists, almost every week.
Issues that loomed as enormous threats before I had left for the cottage came to surprising and peaceful resolutions. Our church parking lot expansion project got done - finally!!
I got to visit Thailand all by myself for two weeks in October, and came to a new appreciation for the deep synthesis of my life story with my Thai family's story in a way that feels like only God could have been part of it.
Because of the sanity, Christmas was a joy, well planned, simplified and truly worshipful. Probably the best Christmas I can remember in eight years. I am still filled up from it, in deep, deep places of my soul.
I was able to let go of what was and accept what is in regards to my grandbabies. Love them so much it scares me, and the time we had together when they were so young will forever bind us. But it's okay now that they live in a different house. And for the first time in a long time I experienced a release from the hurts I'd been holding onto. I finally gave myself permission to set them free. And it's working. And there's so much more space in my heart now for good and beautiful thoughts instead.
Life still happened, but not to the extreme. Nobody got really sick. Nobody died.
And then last night, surrounded by some of the best people on the planet, I got to dance with undignified joy and count in and pray over the New Year.
And there's no secret to this. I'm just saying this is how it went. Because that's how 2013 was. Psalm 91 was not a magic spell that changed a bad year into a good year. I could have come home to more of the same and be writing a very different ending to this blog. But I didn't, and I'm grateful.
And God is good either way.
Because either way He is my dwelling. And sane or insane, my life is His. Strange year this.
A divided year. But clearly I have God's undivided attention.
