Leaving…

Home: I’ve always been fortunate to have the sense of security that comes with one.

We owned one once, in Oldham: it was relatively small and wasn’t in an area that could be described as ‘sought after’, but it was ours and I liked the feel of living in an ethnically diverse area. When I became a minister, we sold it and embraced the excitement of moving where the church sent us: living in faith was exciting.

If it wasn’t for the church, I’d never have lived in North Wales or North Yorkshire. At first it was exhilarating, but then that began to fade with the growng realisation that the church is a very human institution and is sometimes like the little girl with the little curl: when she’s good, she’s very good and when she’s bad, she’s horrid. Towards the end, it felt more more like the latter part of that sentence…

I moved into mental health chaplaincy and for a while we faced the threat of having nowhere to live but managed to rent a place in the village where we lived; financially it was tough for quite a while, but the place we found became home. Our children grew into adolescence, then adulthood in that place and are now finding their own way in this world and moving away.

Since 1999, ‘home’ has never felt entirely secure- it has never been ours. Knowing that however good a landlord might be, you could lose your home has meant that I’ve never felt entirely settled, particularly as the distant speck of retirement looms ever closer and we’d like some security.

Through a combination of circumstances, we’ve eventually scraped together enough money to find a deposit and within a week ot two we’ll be moving to the house above. When owning a house seemed like a pipe dream, we’d thought- not imagining that it’d ever be possible- that it if we could it would be in this precise street. We’re fortunate, not only to be able to do that, but to move to a house where the current owners have put thought and care into it.

Early retirement is unlikely as is an Instagram feed full of cruises: but I never wanted to go on a cruise, so that’s a bonus. Also, the shedding of memories and possessions that once seemed vital, but now aren’t and can’t be fitted in a smaller place has led to a sense of loss that has sometimes felt overwhelming. Every change involves the loss of something: all adventures involve leaving a place that felt safe.

‘Oh, you’re moving house: you kept that quiet’ friends say, with more than a hint of irony. They are right: I do talk about it a lot.  

I cannot tell how life will turn out: I’ve worked in hospitals, conducted many funerals and heard the phrase ‘But we had so many plans’ so many times. Yet this move has an almost spiritual sense of security and a feeling of rootedness: as someone said to me ‘It’s like you’re actually committed to this village’. I guess that’s why I talk about it a lot: I’m experiencing something for the first time in a quarter of a century that most of my contemporaries have taken for granted. We’re also staying in a village that has been home for nearly twenty years.

It is #firstworldproblems but the process has felt unusually stressful, as anything new and unexplored will be; I imagine that it will be so for a while. I leave the final words to John O’Donoghue, that have helped so much at this time, with the hope that these days will return.

For One Who Is Exhausted, a Blessing’

When the rhythm of the heart becomes hectic,

Time takes on the strain until it breaks;

Then all the unattended stress falls in

On the mind like an endless, increasing weight.

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The light in the mind becomes dim.

Things you could take in your stride before

Now become laboursome events of will.

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Weariness invades your spirit.

Gravity begins falling inside you,

Dragging down every bone.

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The tide you never valued has gone out.

And you are marooned on unsure ground.

Something within you has closed down;

And you cannot push yourself back to life.

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You have been forced to enter empty time.

The desire that drove you has relinquished.

There is nothing else to do now but rest

And patiently learn to receive the self

You have forsaken in the race of days.

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At first your thinking will darken

And sadness take over like listless weather.

The flow of unwept tears will frighten you.

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You have travelled too fast over false ground;

Now your soul has come to take you back.

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Take refuge in your senses, open up

To all the small miracles you rushed through.

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Become inclined to watch the way of rain

When it falls slow and free.

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Imitate the habit of twilight,

Taking time to open the well of color

That fostered the brightness of day.

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Draw alongside the silence of stone

Until its calmness can claim you.

Be excessively gentle with yourself.

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Stay clear of those vexed in spirit.

Learn to linger around someone of ease

Who feels they have all the time in the world.

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Gradually, you will return to yourself,

Having learned a new respect for your heart

And the joy that dwells far within slow time.

—————

Amen.