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advent’s last breath
…and I feel like I have no breath. It is now technically Christmas Eve, 2011. I am personally approaching what has been for me, the most spiritually hollow Advent and Christmas of my adult life thus far. It’s just here. No Advent wreath. No family devotions. The first time in a very long time we haven’t at least attempted to light candles and focus and pray as a family during this season. I am sad because of this. I don’t really know what to think about it. It’s not, for us and me right now, an easy thing to interpret. I’m not entirely sure how we got here – not even sure where “here” is.
This has not been a good year – not really. It has been OK. I can call it that. Working too much for not enough. Making it, though. Scattered in all kinds of directions. A growing realization of dreams and visions fading – seems like they’re fading away. I hope they are not disappearing altogether, but it feels like it. Questioning big decisions. Feeling (I know what I’m saying – “feeling”) far away from God, farther than ever. In a nearly constant state of regret, fearing what I’ve done to my children, to their faith, to the stability of their future lives. All these things.
One thing after another going somehow wrong. It feels like we’re under a curse. Where’s my Mojo hand!? I’m not serious… about the mojo thing. I think the fairy folk have taken our butter away! Any Irish folk out there? What do I do? Bury a St. Joseph statue upside down in my yard?? No wait, that’s to sell your house. Spin around three times, crossing myself while praying 47 Hail Marys??? Aaahhh, probably not.
Perhaps just continue to live as I’m able and try to simply do what I know to do. Probably that. I am not, though, going to hold out some kind of high hope that this will accomplish much in the way of making me feel better. I’m not sure about that any more. I do believe. I believe in Him. This will all be, of course, a part of continually re-figuring out what that means and how that works. Maybe some period of blindness will make my vision eventually sharper. Maybe being under water without breath for a while will make my lungs stronger. Maybe, hopefully, through this kind of death, we will, I will, come through the veil and back to life, to a more real and fuller life than before. Maybe.
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069 - 07/31/11
listen. stop. It is an act of determination to refuse to accept going into that dark night of indifference. you are not alone in your feelings. I see it everywhere . The fact that you just keep on keeping on is a wonderful thing. Courage and Joy!
Thanks, Bryan, Andy and Dana – I appreciate it. Thanks for stopping by. And thank you for the encouragement, Simonas – always good to hear from you. He is indeed in the ordinary – just very difficult to see sometimes. But we don’t need to see Him or His actions, for Him to be there or for them to be real and happening. Peace to you.
I don’t know if you know (I think you suspect), but you’ve been an inspiration. Yes, even now. I think it was you who said that Ordinary time in the liturgical year is your favorite. Hm… Any dots connecting? God is in the ordinary, in the simple, in the not so much spectacular. Think of the manger. Think of the shepherds. Think of the young mother. Think of those circumstances. Even the killings of the innocent. This is where God is in the most tangible and real way. Even now. Emmanuel. Merry Christmas, brother.
Hey man. Been a long time. But I still think of you often. Just wanted to let you know that. Peace to you and the House of Creech!
Hugs to you, Little Brother.
Dana
I can relate my friend. You’re not alone and loved by many.
The fellowship of suffering.
Thanks for the comments, guys. I certainly know I’m not alone in this kind of thing. Peace to you, Seaton and Joel, and Merry Christmas.
I’m sorry to hear this Alan and I hope that the new year will bring you new hope and encouragement. I went through a roughly 4 year period of struggles similar to this, though not the same.
Sounds like we’ve had a similar year. I feel like the image of God I had made out of all the truths I know about him is being dismantled, deconstructed. I still believe, but I’ve had to strip down “what I know” to very few things.
“Perhaps just continue to live as I’m able and try to simply do what I know to do.” puts it well.
Regardless of our feelings, here’s to the coming of the Christ, “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.”
(Romans 15:13 ESV)