Old Year Angst

from the Hubble Telescope

Woke up in the middle of the night with a gargantuan headache at the back of my neck, a runny nose, and found myself in the midst of what Anne of Green Gables called a "white night."  I wonder why she called it a white night rather than some other descriptive?  Well, whatever the reason, I lay there feeling all sorts of fear, and grief and angst!  Good heavens.  I haven't had a night like that in a while.  Self doubt ran rampant.  Insurmountable mountains loomed around me, grown from tiny molehills (well, ok, if I'm honest, they were more than molehills, but they had quadrupled in size nonetheless!)  Had I shrunk, like Alice in the looking glass?  Or had the problems become huge of their own volition? 

Morning brought a feverish weariness and so I didn't make my Sunday pilgrimage to church.  I always miss it when I don't find myself there to see friends and make new ones, to sing, to listen to a good "homily", as the Episcopalians call it.  It's interesting, the "calling" to ministry which I felt for so many years has grown silent.  It's like a beautiful calm after a summer storm.  All the years of struggle and confusion seem laid to rest here.  I don't feel any desire to serve at the altar, or preach, or dive into piles of church administration.  I've come through the most difficult year of my adult life, a kind of chaos I haven't known, though there has been plenty of painful difficulties over the years, and for some reason, that chaotic year, and a new church has simply laid to rest what once seemed like a tug of war in my heart and soul.  I may visit that calling and leave flowers at the graveyard, but there's no question in my heart, my mind, or my soul that the calling is no longer my concern.  It sits in  God's heart, and whatever may come to pass in this life or the next, is simply not something I need to wrestle with any longer.  One of my greatest passions will always be biblical interp.  I think it was inevitable that I "caught that bug," from a most astonishing New Testament professor, who put such energy and joy into teaching, who passed along such a love for scripture, that I don't think that particular part of my calling will ever disappear.  I haven't figured out exactly how to use it, but there isn't an urgency to figure it out.  Maybe I'll just always love to explore passages for their myriad of possibilities.

The ache in my head has continued, and so I'm going off to sleep, wishing you a peaceful night...or if you happen to read this during the day, a productive and happy day.