Arriving early

I am learning new ways to navigate things like Convention.  Arriving early and establishing a nest is a new thing for me. It feels pretty good.

I arrived so early

The lobby was empty;

I reveled in the silence,

The sheer space

Before the fullness

Tomorrow.

Tonight I establish a nest

To return to

From the fullness

When the respite

Calls me.

Then and only after that

I will return

To the fullness.

Room at the table

Convention was different this year.

And so

Lunch in hand

I stumbled upon

The retired clergy

Gathered at a round table

In a quiet corner

Of Convention.

I knew them all.

Come sit with us

They said

There’s room at the table

They said.

So I sat

And ate.

Honor

Figuring out new ways to engage Diocesan Convention.

Last night

I honored who I am

Not who I used to be.

I ordered room service,

Simple spaghetti and meatballs

Delivered on a tray

By a smiling woman.

I honor who I am

Now.

I will join the throng

When I am ready

To join the throng,

Not one moment

Sooner.

Back-story

This was my experience at Convention this year.  Oddly, though it may not sound like it, it was overall a positive experience.  I was made aware again of the pieces of back-story which are mine to bear, mine to attest to, mine to proclaim.  At the same time, I became more aware than ever that I will have to find new ways to do this.  The theme of Convention was "Behold! We are doing a new thing."  We welcomed new people into the diocese, but did not say farewell to others, to those who moved or are moving, to those who retired. Sometimes the old is not honored when we make way for the new.  It is possible to do both.  It is necessary to do both.  Perhaps I am more sensitive to this because I am a few years off from retirement now.  Perhaps I am more sensitive because I am part of that tail end of the first generation of ordained women whose vocational life was like unto those first farmers who moved West and had to clear land before any kind of crop could be planted.  This is part of my personal back-story.  I am a farmer.  I have cleared a lot of land.

Just home from Convention

I realize I know

So much

Of so much

Back-story

To this place.

The archives man died

This year.

I am one of many pages

Still walking around,

Still

Not recorded on official paper

Except perhaps

In sundry places

I have served.

I am one

Of many.

Some remember.

Still

There is back-story,

There is memory

Somehow

Deemed less significant;

There is the new announced

As the whole of things;

The change proclaimed

Which still ties in

With everything we have done

Before.

Somehow

We forgot.

Somehow we forget.

There is always back-story.

Nothing is ever

Completely new.

Amnesia unrealized

In truth

Does not make anything new.

Even when we say

It is so.

Home from Convention

I spent more time this year one on one.  After all, I have always been best, one on one.   Now that I am home I realize it was an amazing quilt of one on one opportunities.  I am not a big gathering sort, except that big gatherings often pull together people I care about.  Convention is one of those gatherings.  

I did the bits and pieces I could,

Found the comfy chairs,

Doled out hugs,

Words of appreciation;

Received and heard a few

Myself.

I was reminded again

It all goes both ways.

All of it.

Yes

There were elections

And resolutions.

But mostly I found out again

It all goes both ways.

All of it.

Even in the bits and pieces.

Convention

This will be my twenty-ninth diocesan convention as a priest.  I find myself grateful for a number of things: the convention has been in this location for the last four years (at least). I know where things are, so I don't need to spend energy on things like finding the bathroom.  Instead I can spend energy connecting with people new and old, just for the sake of connecting.  I am not running for any office.  I am not volunteering for anything. I may wear a collar, then again, maybe not.  I can be present, free and clear.  So I will.

This morning I thank God

For breakfast on my own,

For no small and smaller conversation

With ten people

In a restaurant,

People I enjoy at 2:30 in the afternoon

But 8:00 AM?

Almost everyone pales

At 8:00 AM.

Especially me.

This morning I thank God

For familiar spaces.

I know already

Where I will register

Where we will meet

Where the bathrooms are.

There is comfort

In familiar spaces.

I will not have to reorganize

The synapses

Of my brain

To find my way around.

I will not need the equivalent

Of a therapy dog,

Though a dog is always

A nice option.

This morning I thank God

For the choices I am blessed

To be able

To make

And the choices

I no longer need to make.

I thank God this morning

For the people I will meet,

The nametags we all

Will wear.

I can spend the synapses

Of my brain

On more important things:

Being present one to one

Then again

Being present

One to one.