Seminary ~ it seems like a dream. It's so odd; it feels as if I've dropped back into my old life after some time away, except that of course it isn't my old life anymore. Everything is encircled by, encased in, enveloped in the loss of Josh. I keep feeling that I should be able to fix that, but apparently I can't.
For the last three years, two of them under the weight of this terrible gone-ness of my child, I have been focused on preparation for ministry. And for the last eighteen consecutive months (since I took summer Hebrew, there was only a short break last August), I have concentrated intently upon the academic dimension of that preparation. Classes and meetings to attend, stacks of reading to complete and papers to write, constant deadlines. Hours and hours of driving back and forth between Cleveland and Pittsburgh. Field ed sermons and classes and worship services to prepare. More deadlines.
Suddenly it's all over, and I have no place in particular to be, no moment a few days away by which three different things must be done. And no real prospects for that changing anytime soon.
This is, apparently, a time in which to be open to . . . whatever. Just do a little of what's in front of you ~ that's what I sense I'm being called to. Clear off and organize the materials on a table or counter. Chose a paint color for the guest bedroom. Write some more thank you notes. Sort out and give away clothing. Take long walks. Listen to the silence. Try to be open to what's next.
It's disconcerting. One of my classmates is being ordained in a few weeks. Others are still working in churches where they have been for months or years, or leading summer mission trips, or . . . something. They are active, serving God and others, as they await ordination exam re-takes or the fruition of the search process.
And it seems that I am called to . . . go downstairs and go through the piles of books and papers stacked in the sunroom.
I suppose there's a sermon in there somewhere. Or, and perhaps more importantly, a prayer. Time to watch and listen.