I used to be a person of tremendous energy.
With Josh's death, all of that energy, that sense of vitality and propulsion forward, evaporated. How I returned to my work at seminary and in spiritual direction three months later I will never know.
These days, I would say that I'm about halfway back.
Yesterday it was my tremendous privilege to lead a workshop on discernment for a small group of UCC pastors being trained in a new process for helping individuals explore calls to ministry. I had a co-leader who opened and closed with information about the UCC framework, but I designed and led the five hours on discernment. Bases upon the evaluation comments, I would call the day an almost unqualified success. (The participants enjoyed the role-play experiences so much that we had to dispense with an entire topic. No one else minded, but I did. Next time: a firmer grip on the schedule!)
And today ~ I'm drained ~ immobilized.
When I was on retreat a couple of weeks ago, I often began my mornings with a walk down a big hill to a cemetery, and sometimes a bit further. When I walked back up to the house, very slowly as the sun rose higher and the oppressive heat descended again, I could hear a wood thrush in the still-darkened woods as I savored the black raspberries growing along the path.
I often begin my days at home with a walk. But at home I have to go from walk to tasks related to house and work, and I have already given my best time and energy to the walk itself. If I have to accomplish something urgent that day, I get started on my computer before I even get up, and postpone the walk.
Three years and I am still struggling with the matter of how to organize my life so that I can accomplish work I love without being completely depleted of energy.
I suppose there's progress to savor in the fact that I want to solve this problem.
The heat is not helping!