Sometimes, in group meetings, we have a check-in where we ask each other “What are you carrying with you? Is there anything you are setting aside to be present with us?”
Sometimes, I’m ready to be vulnerable, and choose to share quite openly about a few of the things most noticeable in my heart. Sometimes, I share a toned-down, small snippet of it all. It never feels like there’s enough time to go through the whole list. Especially these days.
What are you holding right now?
On a personal level, I’m juggling many “projects” for work: coordinating co-leaders for a Reproductive Justice worship service, and follow-up gathering; planning a ceremony for the pagan late winter festival of Imbolc; preparing to facilitate an anti-racism learning circle on the book Radical Dharma. I’m planning for my next steps in ministry, processing my first 6 months in Portland. Navigating COVID scares and scrambling to access testing for myself and my loved ones. Trying to stay grounded, avoid burnout, and lean into joy as we enter what is looking like a third pandemic year.
And then there’s all that we’re holding together.
Trying to make sense of our deteriorating political system. Witnessing the struggles of our neighbors who live outside in this dark, rainy, and chilly winter. A volcano eruption signaling loss and uncertainty for a faraway island nation, with waves rippling out to us. Worshippers at a synagogue taken hostage, a reminder that houses of worship are not always safe. An ongoing crisis in our hospitals, reproductive healthcare under threat. Schooling for our young ones constantly shifting and facing disruption. The list goes on.
What are you holding right now?
And you do not have to lay it down to be present right now. I hope you find ways to name it, and name it out loud, with others.
In this time of holding so much, this time of making contingency plans for all of our contingency plans, may we seek to recognize and honor our strength. These times ask a lot of us.
When our burdens feel too heavy, may we know comfort.
When we are tempted by despair, may we insist on hope.
When we don’t know which way to go, may we be guided by love.
A song for remembering our connectedness:
“Swimming to the Other Side” by Pat Humphries.