A Milestone and Other Markers

Today I delivered my first sermon.

Sounds amazing to say that. Probably as recently as a few months ago that idea would have set me shivering with nervousness, but. . .well, like so many new things I do these days, Iona helped change that. I know deep within me now that I am loved and supported and thus that the big steps that I take are cheered on by that great cloud of witnesses in the church. As I prepared, I felt the hope and affirmation from people like Simon, Gillian, Lotte, Lauren, Moses, Sam, Mary, Hannah, Philippa, Mary III, my parents, my grandparents, and old seminary and college friends like Beth and Johanna and Bree coursing through me. . .how, with that sheer volume of positive energy, can one not feel more confident?

People liked the sermon. I'm pleasantly surprised by that. Based on how things were going last night in writing it, I thought it'd turn out bland and flat and garden-variety. Now. . .now I can better see myself in that role as a pastor, though I'm still frightened of getting boxed in to a confined space (geographically, mostly) in a small country parish and not exploring the world, learning loads of different things. I do love small country parishes, though. Maybe one of these days I'll have "settled down" and will really want those roots.

Last night was pretty rough. I was kind of disappointed with myself anyway for ending up going to bed with not everything written for today, and ended up listening to Simon's band, Icarus (for about the millionth time in a week and a half) and feeling fairly lonely. I think that I subconsciously protected myself emotionally as I traveled from Britain and in the first few days home by only feeling "comfortable" pain. Yes, there was intense sadness at missing everyone and life on Iona. Yes, much anguish and anxiousness. Last night, however, something welled up within me that--for the first time in months--resembled something like despair. (About complicated things that, bottom line, involve my own sense of self-worth). Well, I know better these days than to let something like that fester, so I immediately reached out for a lifeline: Mary. I emailed her asking for her to help me in any way she could, whether it would be to send a message back or to just think about me. (Ever get the feeling that even if someone's not particularly praying to God on your behalf, just them letting you know that they're thinking about you and your welfare really helps too?)

I received a reply when I checked my email this morning, and I felt so grateful to see that Mary understood my plea. . .she even said that if I'd only lived five hours or so away she would have gotten on the first bus to come see me, and that she'd try and give me a call when she had a chance. I just appreciate her understanding that I needed some support.

Since arriving back home, I've worried a bit that my Iona friends will see me as needy. I don't know if I am, honestly. I think of myself these days as a fairly self-sufficient person who happens to know that she needs God working through significant loving relationships in order to really live. Isolated, I am an empty, meaningless shell. Buoyed up by friends and family and community in general, I am vivacious and truly myself. I don't think I'm clingy or desperate. I think I just know what I need. I pray that the people I am most close to understand this. . .and I think they must, for they know me pretty deeply.

Well, on a lighter note. . . I helped to watch my cousins Ben and Ava today (9 and 5 years old). Yes, it's all fun and games, swimming and ice cream, laughter and board games, until somebody has an "accident." In that case, skills as a housekeeper come in handy! :)

Now that I've figured out how to use the bottle opener to extricate the cap from my leftover-from-the-picnic Newcastle Brown Ale, I think I'll slowly retire to my inner sanctum and prepare for a day of mad packing/organising.