And you may say to yourself "Well, how did I get here?"
The Talking Heads, Once in a Lifetime
I am sitting in my new office. My first sermon for Good Samaritan Presbyterian Church is written and ready for tomorrow. I am slowly getting my life in the new place put in order.
But it's still a little hard to wrap my mind around.
Less than a week ago I was in Pennsylvania, where I had lived and worked for ten years.
No matter how good and right your reasons are, moving still puts something out of joint.
One of my long term goals is to establish healthy patterns in life and so I'm trying to start out that way.
This whole week has been like watching one of those computer animated sequences where something flies apart and then snaps back together. I don't know when the feeling of being whirled around is going to stop for more than a few moments, but this is one of those moments.
It's a breezy, sunny Saturday morning in Southern Maryland. I know that somewhere to the north people are digging out after a big old blizzard, but the world of snow and ice seems rather far removed, but it wouldn't have last Saturday, and I guess that's what's strange, that so much has changed in such a short time. It's not just the weather either, it's a whole different feeling to life.
It's been rather a long time since I did something new, because mostly, I don't like new.
New things can bedazzle you with their shininess, but they haven't stood the test of time. I think of all the things we threw away in the process of moving. All the junk we had accumulated, all the stuff that weighed us down, that we really didn't need.
Life gets like that sometimes, you just start to take on baggage, whether you want to or not, and before too long you start to feel smothered. But you're comfortable with your baggage, you're attached to your stuff, it seems rather hard to let go. Then you land in a new world and it's got some challenges to be sure, and maybe they're not that different than the old challenges, but you've left some baggage behind, you've gotten rid of some of the clutter and you feel different.
For any of the Plumville/Atwood folks who might read this, you are not the clutter or the baggage, what I'm talking about here is a spiritual condition that crept up on me. It was my fault, and it probably made me less effective as your Pastor. It has actually taken the move for me to see it clearly.
Here's to new beginnings.
It's a breezy, sunny Saturday morning in Southern Maryland. I know that somewhere to the north people are digging out after a big old blizzard, but the world of snow and ice seems rather far removed, but it wouldn't have last Saturday, and I guess that's what's strange, that so much has changed in such a short time. It's not just the weather either, it's a whole different feeling to life.
It's been rather a long time since I did something new, because mostly, I don't like new.
New things can bedazzle you with their shininess, but they haven't stood the test of time. I think of all the things we threw away in the process of moving. All the junk we had accumulated, all the stuff that weighed us down, that we really didn't need.
Life gets like that sometimes, you just start to take on baggage, whether you want to or not, and before too long you start to feel smothered. But you're comfortable with your baggage, you're attached to your stuff, it seems rather hard to let go. Then you land in a new world and it's got some challenges to be sure, and maybe they're not that different than the old challenges, but you've left some baggage behind, you've gotten rid of some of the clutter and you feel different.
For any of the Plumville/Atwood folks who might read this, you are not the clutter or the baggage, what I'm talking about here is a spiritual condition that crept up on me. It was my fault, and it probably made me less effective as your Pastor. It has actually taken the move for me to see it clearly.
Here's to new beginnings.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Please comment on what you read, but keep it clean and respectful, please.