Sacred Spaces
I grew up in a tradition that valued sacred spaces. There are small chapels scattered all over Greece; there are proper rituals in the Greek Orthodox tradition for entering a church, and leaving. I have always been drawn to sacred spaces--since my mid-20s, I've taken retreats at least once a year and chosen places where I could sit or walk in spaces that were set aside as sacred. And, I've always tried to create sacred spaces in my home--but as the house gets more and more crowded and life more and more hectic, it's difficult to keep these spaces set apart (not to mention clean and uncluttered). I have an image of the last supper over our kitchen table--but it is often piled high with random belongings, and we rarely eat on it, opting instead for the larger table in the main room of the house (also sometimes piled with junk, but easier to clear). I have an icon of each of our patron saints, and Mary and Jesus, in our sitting room, but I have to admit I don't always remember to show them any respect. And my bedroom has a shelf of icons of all the saints I love, as well as sacred images from other traditions; in the old days, I used to actually use that space in prayer time, but life has gotten too hectic for that, or so I've reasoned.
This year we opted to stay in the small town where we live for the holidays. We did so because we were both bone-tired from a very eventful year, and neither of us could fathom another trip after the many trips we'd taken in 2012, and after such an immense celebration over the summer of S's graduation. Also, we made the decision because I am working hard on not spending money I don't have--trying to develop new habits in this area as I have, finally, in terms of my eating and exercise. Last but not least, T, my significant other, was coming for the holidays, and at this juncture in our growing relationship, it felt important to be together for the holidays, and to spend some time with her family to make plans for her graduation and move back to the state this summer, which will involve all of us.
I missed my family terribly--they are a wild bunch, and so much fun to be around, and I have always looked forward to spending the week between Christmas and New Year's with them. Some years I've been able to stay until the end of Christmas--all the way to the 7th--when the season officially comes to an end.
But, it was a blessing that I had a chance to observe other family traditions, to do Christmas and New Year's with my partner's family--and to create our own traditions, too. This holiday season--which, for me, started at the start of Advent and went all the way to yesterday, my 42nd birthday--was an experience of revisiting and honoring sacred spaces and rituals.
We started by really enjoying the first weekend in December, which is when several churches, our local history and arts centers, and our local senior center host their bazaars. We took our time shopping at these events this year, choosing gifts for the people we loved, then traveling to the nearest larger small town 45 minutes away, where we continued shopping--not hurried, not overwhelmed, enjoying the lights in both downtowns, as well as those that were already up at the farm places in between.
We set up an advent wreath, which is not a Greek tradition, but one that is observed at the United Church of Christ where we attend. I found second hand brass candleholders and a secondhand wreath, and bought candles from a local store. It was beautiful. We proceeded to light the candles not only each Sunday, but every night at breakfast or supper. We read devotions each evening and took the time to reflect on them. Our table became a sacred space, and supper had new meaning. I won't pretend it was all fairy tale--there were still discussions about how much or how little S was eating, still some misunderstandings and hurt feelings--but our conversations had, at least, a framing now, our meal time a spiritual and physical coming together.
We decorated slowly over Advent, and waited until T had arrived and finals were graded to get our tree. We cut down our own and decorated it with decorations from my childhood that I'm always excited to see every year. I bought a garland for the staircase that a friend had made and put the stockings there. And, I made an altar with images of the Nativity in our main room downstairs.
T and I took time every night to sit in front of the lit tree and talk. Ever since we got together, we've had this ritual of talking after S goes to bed, whether in person or over the phone. "I don't ever want to stop doing this," I said one night, and she agreed. T was the one to remind me some days when I felt overwhelmed to light the advent wreath, to put aside everything else at night and really look at the tree. I am grateful to have met someone who appreciates miracles and sacred spaces as much as I do--and who is committed to growing in faith with me. I've been in only two other serious relationships, and this aspect of my life was an issue in both of them. I feel as if I've finally found a partner who understands the importance of the sacred it my life, and in the process of building a family.
We made cookies and delivered them to people who had been especially kind to us over the last year. We worked together on my family's traditional holiday stuffing, which we ate along with her family's traditional foods on Christmas Eve and Christmas day.
On Christmas Eve, we ate with her immediate family, opened gifts, then went to midnight mass at their Catholic Church. Given the Pope's Christmas message and a recent story a friend told me about her priest talking about gay marriage during a sermon and somehow connecting it to the need to preserve traditional families in light of the advent season, I was nervous--but the mass was moving and beautiful, and afterwards, T's mother led us to the small chapel where the church holds 24 hours eucharistic adoration. She participates by praying every Friday morning for an hour there.
I couldn't believe how at peace I felt there--how welcomed. There were Orthodox icons I recognized from childhood on the walls, and the space smelled like an Orthodox church--wax and incense. I couldn't get that space out of my mind. I wished that the church I attend now had such a space--wished that there was a place like it where I knew I could go at anytime, day or night.
The next morning, I was touched that T's mom had made S and I stockings, and filled them. We had a meal with her extended family, and stayed for the day, taking our time together. The weekend before, we'd celebrated in a more raucous way with her extended family on the other side--so it was nice to have a more quiet Christmas day.
We had an amazing week, slowly opening our gifts over a couple days, enjoying the tree, and, finally, making the traditional Basilopita on New Year's Eve day and delivering loaves on New Year's to families we love. We got to deliver one loaf to a family with a brand new, less-than-one-day-old baby; we held her and stared into her face and felt all the wonder that such moments create.
And then, the holidays were winding down, and T went back to school. Saying goodbye was hard, even though it's the last time--both S and I were in tears at the airport. But, even after she left, we managed somehow to continue to hold our meals sacred. And, we created a house blessing ritual on Epiphany--not exactly the Orthodox version, but similar with our own spin. S loved going around the house with incense and holy water, blessing each room. We gave the house a good cleaning, and I dusted my icon shelf in my room which had been neglected for far too long. I took my time saying a prayer to each saint as I placed each one, dust-free, on the shelf again. S was in the room with me, so I taught her about each of them.
After that official end to the Christmas season, S said, "I loved all the rituals we did this Christmas." She hugged me hard. "Mama, can we make sure we do stuff like this even after the semester starts and you get really busy?" I teared up. Yes, I said. Yes, we can make sure of that. If that isn't a worthy New Year's resolution, I don't know what is. Since that day, S has been asking for devotions at supper, asking to light a candle before we eat. I am hopeful that we can continue to hold moments and spaces sacred in our lives.
My birthday always comes at the tail end of the holiday season, before students have returned for the first day of classes but after I'm back at work trying to prepare, some years more frantically than others, for a new semester. Since I moved into my own home after my partner and I split up some seven years ago, I've made a ritual of taking my birthday off of work and doing something reflective to mark the new year. This year, I had a grant proposal due the day after my birthday, so taking the whole day off wasn't possible--but I had a series of strange, blessed moments all day long.
I decided I would wake up at my normal time and do my normal morning work out, then decide where I wanted to work. I had told those in my office that I would be working from somewhere else for the day, but that I'd be available via phone and e-mail.
But, my morning routine was interrupted first thing. When I reached to turn off my alarm, I knocked over a glass of water--all over my icon table, and, worse, all over S's senior photos, which for some reason were in a bag between my bed and the table. I spent about an hour drying off and pulling the photos apart, frantically trying to save as many as I could. I thought to myself, "This better not be a bad omen for the year to come." I can't help it--I'm more superstitious than I want to admit! Nearly every night I've taken a glass of water to bed, and this was the first time I'd ever spilled it.
As I dried off the photos, I felt my mind beginning to spin into negativity. I thought with shame about how I still had not distributed the photos to family and friends as I'd intended to do. I thought about how I so often neglect these kinds of tasks, how hurried and overwhelmed I feel. I may be calm now, I reasoned, but just wait until the semester starts. I won't be able to keep this up.
But then, for some reason, I found myself staring into my daughter's eyes in one of the photos I didn't even particularly like--one I would probably not have printed at all if she had not chosen it. I saw that she was looking directly into the camera--a little unsure, but also a little amused--a look she gets when I say something she knows is supposed to be funny even though she doesn't get the joke. That's her, I thought, and then I looked carefully at the next one, a glamour shot in which she fails at trying to look mature--but you can see how hard she's trying. That's her, too, I thought, and laughed at how different she is from me in so many ways. The photo that is both our favorites in which she is clutching her dog and cat, both of whom look less-than-excited, was next. I thought about how, if it hadn't been for her, I would have these animals in my life, would probably still not like animals all that much. I thought about how she has changed me in much deeper ways, about how far she's come. I got teared up remembering how hard it had been to get through her last year of high school, and how well she's doing, all things considered, right now, even if she's not on a "normal" life timeline.
Inevitably, she woke up before I had left the house, and I could read the anxiety in her body--she knew something had gone wrong. "Why are you still here?" she asked, panicked. I thought about not telling her, but then I did. She was too sleepy to be particularly upset--and anyway, I had saved most of the photos, and in this day and age it's easy to print more. I told S, "At first, I was upset, but then I thought how lucky I was to have a chance to look carefully at each one of those beautiful pictures again."
She smiled, wide, authentic. "I love you, mom," she said. Then, she added, "Happy birthday." I wasn't sure if she had remembered.
I left when her caretaker arrived and took my time working out. Then I decided to drive to the larger small town 45 minutes away, intending to spend at least some of the $50 my aunt had sent me that otherwise would have ended up going toward my debt and to listen to my new Bruce Springsteen CD on the way--a Christmas gift I had not yet enjoyed. I was determined to spend my $50 frivolously and to really listen to Bruce's new songs. I decided I would work from a coffee shop there, where I could still get the grant proposal done but wouldn't be interrupted by people I knew, and where I would still feel like I was having a day off, in a way.
On the way out of town, though, I made two stops, both of which turned out to be small moments of blessing I'm glad I got to experience. First, I stopped at the bank to deposit a check--and ended up talking to the teller, a friend from church, about S. She asked genuine questions, wanting to know how she was doing and what her future held. She really listened, rather than imposing her ideas about what S should or should not be doing, or making pat statements about how lucky she is to have me, or minimizing how challenging it can be to live with her--reactions I get far too often. It was an authentic conversation, and those are rare, frankly.
I then stopped on a whim at the second hand store--I'd had a pair of jeans in my car that I'd meant to drop off there forever, and it was across the street. I saw a sweater I liked--then three more. I have spent a lot of money on clothes in the last year out of necessity because I've lost more than 60 pounds and needed a new wardrobe, and this particular store had been a lifesaver for me. I have just enough clothes now to get me through a full week at work in each season--but I reasoned that I had the $50 gift, and that it would be OK to purchase these sweaters. I got to the counter to pay for four sweaters that would have cost about $30--and ended up getting them for free! As it turned out, enough of the clothes I'd dropped off there on earlier trips had sold, and I had some credit.
I had a similar experience when I got to the other town. I stopped, again on a whim, at my favorite bookstore, one of those rare, continuing-to-make-it, old fashioned, local bookstores. I decided I'd buy myself a new book--never mind that I have six on my shelf that I've not had time to read, not to mention a long list of books I want to get out of the library or through interlibrary loan. I read the first four pages of the new Barbara Kingsolver book and was immediately drawn in--but I couldn't justify buying it in hard back. I wandered through the store, browsing, but nothing else pulled me to it quite as dramatically. It's my birthday, I told myself, and I have this $50 gift. Why not treat myself to a hardback book? I went to the counter and, again, learned I had purchased enough books over the last couple years to have earned a $15 reward--so the book cost less than the soft cover would have.
I got to the coffee shop having spent only $20 of the $50. When it was finished, I decided to stop at that little chapel at the Catholic Church, the one T's mom had shown us. I knew that at least one person would be there for adoration, and that the door would be unlocked. I felt sure that would feel nurtured there. I spent an hour there with others who no doubt were there every week for that hour. I sat in silence, then wrote in my new journal, prayed for a good new year.
The end of the night involved a harrowing drive on very icy roads--which I could have read as another bad omen, but I chose instead to simply drive slowly--and supper and a couple glasses of wine with S and her godmother, and a beautiful gift of handmade stationary from S, and a long conversation at the end of the night with T. The tree is still up, at least until tomorrow, so I put on the lights and really looked at it while talking to her about my day, about each small blessing I'd encountered, and about my even stronger resolve to honor the sacred in 2013.
This year we opted to stay in the small town where we live for the holidays. We did so because we were both bone-tired from a very eventful year, and neither of us could fathom another trip after the many trips we'd taken in 2012, and after such an immense celebration over the summer of S's graduation. Also, we made the decision because I am working hard on not spending money I don't have--trying to develop new habits in this area as I have, finally, in terms of my eating and exercise. Last but not least, T, my significant other, was coming for the holidays, and at this juncture in our growing relationship, it felt important to be together for the holidays, and to spend some time with her family to make plans for her graduation and move back to the state this summer, which will involve all of us.
I missed my family terribly--they are a wild bunch, and so much fun to be around, and I have always looked forward to spending the week between Christmas and New Year's with them. Some years I've been able to stay until the end of Christmas--all the way to the 7th--when the season officially comes to an end.
But, it was a blessing that I had a chance to observe other family traditions, to do Christmas and New Year's with my partner's family--and to create our own traditions, too. This holiday season--which, for me, started at the start of Advent and went all the way to yesterday, my 42nd birthday--was an experience of revisiting and honoring sacred spaces and rituals.
We started by really enjoying the first weekend in December, which is when several churches, our local history and arts centers, and our local senior center host their bazaars. We took our time shopping at these events this year, choosing gifts for the people we loved, then traveling to the nearest larger small town 45 minutes away, where we continued shopping--not hurried, not overwhelmed, enjoying the lights in both downtowns, as well as those that were already up at the farm places in between.
We set up an advent wreath, which is not a Greek tradition, but one that is observed at the United Church of Christ where we attend. I found second hand brass candleholders and a secondhand wreath, and bought candles from a local store. It was beautiful. We proceeded to light the candles not only each Sunday, but every night at breakfast or supper. We read devotions each evening and took the time to reflect on them. Our table became a sacred space, and supper had new meaning. I won't pretend it was all fairy tale--there were still discussions about how much or how little S was eating, still some misunderstandings and hurt feelings--but our conversations had, at least, a framing now, our meal time a spiritual and physical coming together.
We decorated slowly over Advent, and waited until T had arrived and finals were graded to get our tree. We cut down our own and decorated it with decorations from my childhood that I'm always excited to see every year. I bought a garland for the staircase that a friend had made and put the stockings there. And, I made an altar with images of the Nativity in our main room downstairs.
T and I took time every night to sit in front of the lit tree and talk. Ever since we got together, we've had this ritual of talking after S goes to bed, whether in person or over the phone. "I don't ever want to stop doing this," I said one night, and she agreed. T was the one to remind me some days when I felt overwhelmed to light the advent wreath, to put aside everything else at night and really look at the tree. I am grateful to have met someone who appreciates miracles and sacred spaces as much as I do--and who is committed to growing in faith with me. I've been in only two other serious relationships, and this aspect of my life was an issue in both of them. I feel as if I've finally found a partner who understands the importance of the sacred it my life, and in the process of building a family.
We made cookies and delivered them to people who had been especially kind to us over the last year. We worked together on my family's traditional holiday stuffing, which we ate along with her family's traditional foods on Christmas Eve and Christmas day.
On Christmas Eve, we ate with her immediate family, opened gifts, then went to midnight mass at their Catholic Church. Given the Pope's Christmas message and a recent story a friend told me about her priest talking about gay marriage during a sermon and somehow connecting it to the need to preserve traditional families in light of the advent season, I was nervous--but the mass was moving and beautiful, and afterwards, T's mother led us to the small chapel where the church holds 24 hours eucharistic adoration. She participates by praying every Friday morning for an hour there.
I couldn't believe how at peace I felt there--how welcomed. There were Orthodox icons I recognized from childhood on the walls, and the space smelled like an Orthodox church--wax and incense. I couldn't get that space out of my mind. I wished that the church I attend now had such a space--wished that there was a place like it where I knew I could go at anytime, day or night.
The next morning, I was touched that T's mom had made S and I stockings, and filled them. We had a meal with her extended family, and stayed for the day, taking our time together. The weekend before, we'd celebrated in a more raucous way with her extended family on the other side--so it was nice to have a more quiet Christmas day.
We had an amazing week, slowly opening our gifts over a couple days, enjoying the tree, and, finally, making the traditional Basilopita on New Year's Eve day and delivering loaves on New Year's to families we love. We got to deliver one loaf to a family with a brand new, less-than-one-day-old baby; we held her and stared into her face and felt all the wonder that such moments create.
And then, the holidays were winding down, and T went back to school. Saying goodbye was hard, even though it's the last time--both S and I were in tears at the airport. But, even after she left, we managed somehow to continue to hold our meals sacred. And, we created a house blessing ritual on Epiphany--not exactly the Orthodox version, but similar with our own spin. S loved going around the house with incense and holy water, blessing each room. We gave the house a good cleaning, and I dusted my icon shelf in my room which had been neglected for far too long. I took my time saying a prayer to each saint as I placed each one, dust-free, on the shelf again. S was in the room with me, so I taught her about each of them.
After that official end to the Christmas season, S said, "I loved all the rituals we did this Christmas." She hugged me hard. "Mama, can we make sure we do stuff like this even after the semester starts and you get really busy?" I teared up. Yes, I said. Yes, we can make sure of that. If that isn't a worthy New Year's resolution, I don't know what is. Since that day, S has been asking for devotions at supper, asking to light a candle before we eat. I am hopeful that we can continue to hold moments and spaces sacred in our lives.
My birthday always comes at the tail end of the holiday season, before students have returned for the first day of classes but after I'm back at work trying to prepare, some years more frantically than others, for a new semester. Since I moved into my own home after my partner and I split up some seven years ago, I've made a ritual of taking my birthday off of work and doing something reflective to mark the new year. This year, I had a grant proposal due the day after my birthday, so taking the whole day off wasn't possible--but I had a series of strange, blessed moments all day long.
I decided I would wake up at my normal time and do my normal morning work out, then decide where I wanted to work. I had told those in my office that I would be working from somewhere else for the day, but that I'd be available via phone and e-mail.
But, my morning routine was interrupted first thing. When I reached to turn off my alarm, I knocked over a glass of water--all over my icon table, and, worse, all over S's senior photos, which for some reason were in a bag between my bed and the table. I spent about an hour drying off and pulling the photos apart, frantically trying to save as many as I could. I thought to myself, "This better not be a bad omen for the year to come." I can't help it--I'm more superstitious than I want to admit! Nearly every night I've taken a glass of water to bed, and this was the first time I'd ever spilled it.
As I dried off the photos, I felt my mind beginning to spin into negativity. I thought with shame about how I still had not distributed the photos to family and friends as I'd intended to do. I thought about how I so often neglect these kinds of tasks, how hurried and overwhelmed I feel. I may be calm now, I reasoned, but just wait until the semester starts. I won't be able to keep this up.
But then, for some reason, I found myself staring into my daughter's eyes in one of the photos I didn't even particularly like--one I would probably not have printed at all if she had not chosen it. I saw that she was looking directly into the camera--a little unsure, but also a little amused--a look she gets when I say something she knows is supposed to be funny even though she doesn't get the joke. That's her, I thought, and then I looked carefully at the next one, a glamour shot in which she fails at trying to look mature--but you can see how hard she's trying. That's her, too, I thought, and laughed at how different she is from me in so many ways. The photo that is both our favorites in which she is clutching her dog and cat, both of whom look less-than-excited, was next. I thought about how, if it hadn't been for her, I would have these animals in my life, would probably still not like animals all that much. I thought about how she has changed me in much deeper ways, about how far she's come. I got teared up remembering how hard it had been to get through her last year of high school, and how well she's doing, all things considered, right now, even if she's not on a "normal" life timeline.
Inevitably, she woke up before I had left the house, and I could read the anxiety in her body--she knew something had gone wrong. "Why are you still here?" she asked, panicked. I thought about not telling her, but then I did. She was too sleepy to be particularly upset--and anyway, I had saved most of the photos, and in this day and age it's easy to print more. I told S, "At first, I was upset, but then I thought how lucky I was to have a chance to look carefully at each one of those beautiful pictures again."
She smiled, wide, authentic. "I love you, mom," she said. Then, she added, "Happy birthday." I wasn't sure if she had remembered.
I left when her caretaker arrived and took my time working out. Then I decided to drive to the larger small town 45 minutes away, intending to spend at least some of the $50 my aunt had sent me that otherwise would have ended up going toward my debt and to listen to my new Bruce Springsteen CD on the way--a Christmas gift I had not yet enjoyed. I was determined to spend my $50 frivolously and to really listen to Bruce's new songs. I decided I would work from a coffee shop there, where I could still get the grant proposal done but wouldn't be interrupted by people I knew, and where I would still feel like I was having a day off, in a way.
On the way out of town, though, I made two stops, both of which turned out to be small moments of blessing I'm glad I got to experience. First, I stopped at the bank to deposit a check--and ended up talking to the teller, a friend from church, about S. She asked genuine questions, wanting to know how she was doing and what her future held. She really listened, rather than imposing her ideas about what S should or should not be doing, or making pat statements about how lucky she is to have me, or minimizing how challenging it can be to live with her--reactions I get far too often. It was an authentic conversation, and those are rare, frankly.
I then stopped on a whim at the second hand store--I'd had a pair of jeans in my car that I'd meant to drop off there forever, and it was across the street. I saw a sweater I liked--then three more. I have spent a lot of money on clothes in the last year out of necessity because I've lost more than 60 pounds and needed a new wardrobe, and this particular store had been a lifesaver for me. I have just enough clothes now to get me through a full week at work in each season--but I reasoned that I had the $50 gift, and that it would be OK to purchase these sweaters. I got to the counter to pay for four sweaters that would have cost about $30--and ended up getting them for free! As it turned out, enough of the clothes I'd dropped off there on earlier trips had sold, and I had some credit.
I had a similar experience when I got to the other town. I stopped, again on a whim, at my favorite bookstore, one of those rare, continuing-to-make-it, old fashioned, local bookstores. I decided I'd buy myself a new book--never mind that I have six on my shelf that I've not had time to read, not to mention a long list of books I want to get out of the library or through interlibrary loan. I read the first four pages of the new Barbara Kingsolver book and was immediately drawn in--but I couldn't justify buying it in hard back. I wandered through the store, browsing, but nothing else pulled me to it quite as dramatically. It's my birthday, I told myself, and I have this $50 gift. Why not treat myself to a hardback book? I went to the counter and, again, learned I had purchased enough books over the last couple years to have earned a $15 reward--so the book cost less than the soft cover would have.
I got to the coffee shop having spent only $20 of the $50. When it was finished, I decided to stop at that little chapel at the Catholic Church, the one T's mom had shown us. I knew that at least one person would be there for adoration, and that the door would be unlocked. I felt sure that would feel nurtured there. I spent an hour there with others who no doubt were there every week for that hour. I sat in silence, then wrote in my new journal, prayed for a good new year.
The end of the night involved a harrowing drive on very icy roads--which I could have read as another bad omen, but I chose instead to simply drive slowly--and supper and a couple glasses of wine with S and her godmother, and a beautiful gift of handmade stationary from S, and a long conversation at the end of the night with T. The tree is still up, at least until tomorrow, so I put on the lights and really looked at it while talking to her about my day, about each small blessing I'd encountered, and about my even stronger resolve to honor the sacred in 2013.
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