Writing, Parenting, and Working in the Mess: Authentic Spirituality and Social Justice

I spent much of a full week of Advent in bed, sleeping sometimes fitfully and sometimes restfully. It has been years since I was this sick, and I don't remember the last time I went to a doctor and left the pharmacy with medications. While I am aware of how blessed I am (compared to so many others I love) to know this bout of pneumonia, as awful as it felt, would heal if I just got rest, it took awhile to fully accept this. Some things, of course, still had to get done. I had to get up and get everyone off to school and daycare--then I would sleep until it was time to make supper, then sleep again until the next morning. I would read only the briefest updates on the terrible state of our country and world--and I may have made one angry call to a certain congressperson in a raspy, rambling series of words I don't remember--but mostly I disengaged. I needed rest, even from being present to the world's news. I did the only thing I absolutely had to do for work, grade my stud...

Advent showed up, and I wasn’t ready. It was the second Sunday of Advent before I got the Advent wreath out. The third Sunday before I got the house decorated.  Our Lego Advent calendar has barely been touched (though I’ve made a practice of turning over the other two each day--and this has caused more anxiety than peace).  I’ll be meeting all my work deadlines two days before Christmas--if I’m lucky.  I’m battling bronchitis/possible walking pneumonia, which doesn’t help. I finally went to the doctor today after several weeks of feeling terrible--then rallying--then feeling terrible again. Then I slept until I had to get littles from daycare, to piano, etc.  And now, at almost 1 a.m., I am wide awake. My spouse has long abandoned our bed due to my coughing--the last few weeks, it’s been me leaving, but this time I was too tired to move.  And, don’t even ask me about shopping for Christmas. There have been other challenges, too, t...

When I left town for an inpromptu retreat after weeks of not having been alone for more than ten minutes, I was worn thin. These days, I'm adjusting to a new, expanded role at work and caring for more people than ever before. There is no good time to get away. But there were three days that my spouse wasn't working, and she said, "Yes, go," because she could see I wasn't myself. All of my adult life--even when I was living alone--I have gone on two retreats a year. I know myself well enough to know I can't be present, authentic, whole without doing so. I got out of the habit when I began my spiritual director program; those two years of monthly weekends felt like mini-retreats, with lots of space for breathing, even though they were structured in a way my earlier retreats had not been. Then Petalouda House, our family's work to welcome folks who don't have housing and support their emotional growth and practical skills, took off, and there was no g...