Scattered

At the beginning of the summer I began a new journal, now, ten weeks later the journal is filled with my handwritten notes, prayers, and thoughts. This summer has been one of deep spiritual work and growth--a concentrated effort to move away from the bad habits formed during the depression along with a shift in my view of God. For the past few years I have been quite skeptical of God, holding my distance, unwilling to fully give over access to my heart and trust in God's goodness. Isn't it sad that when things don't turn out how I want them to, how I expect them to I am quick to blame God, to mistrust God, and throw God's goodness into question. So this summer, I have spent time in deep prayer, journaling, writing, pondering, discussing, and engaging. I have engaged trusted friends in deep, soul searching conversations, as well as God. I have spent countless hours and pages journaling, digging into the hard work of discernment rather than running away. When things have gotten hard, I have tried to lean into the difficulty rather than turn away and I am finding that even the smallest step of progress is worth celebrating.I have always held this perception of myself as a homebody, someone who does not like to be scattered about and spread across the way. However, as I have been reflecting on this summer and the last three years, since graduating from PC, I am realizing that being scattered is a part of my life and call in this season of life. The woman who is a homebody, who loves to have roots dug deeply in a place, is a woman who has been scattered about. Bits of my heart and my self have been scattered all around this world and I am realizing that roots have grown deep in each of those places--home has been found all over.Monday I left Clinton. My internship ended on Sunday, with a beautiful church service and celebration of the holy Eucharist. I broke bread with the people that I have come to love, the community I have celebrated with and mourned with for three months of my life. It seems fitting that on my final Sunday I would be able to participate in something so integral to my call, to break bread and gather around the table that stretches wide and far to include every human in the family of humanity.On Monday, after the celebrations had ended and my bags were packed, I had one last meeting then Will and I got in the car and we drove back to Charleston. I wrote the following words in my journal: "What do you do when you have spent a period of time giving your time, your tears, your heart, your soul, and your self to a place and to so many people? It feels odd to simply up and leave, to pack all my bags, turn in a set of keys, give back a flash drive and just go. Yet, I have to go. I have to move on to the next place I am being called. I have to grapple with this experience and prayerfully reflect on what I have learned and begin to discern further this call."As I wrote the words, I realized that this has been true of my life for the past three years. I have given my whole self to so many places and to so many different people. I have tried to scatter the seeds of my love and the pieces of my heart wherever I go, even when the last thing I want to do is let those places and people in.Maybe I try to convince myself that I am not an adventurer and I resist change and transition because it is a way to protect my heart. It is a way to express some kind of "control" over my own life--yet, I am still continuously called out, called to places and people and called to open up my heart and just be. Despite my loud and obnoxious claims that I am not good with change and transition--I still answer the calls, I still go out and let God scatter me.Maybe I have been lying to myself and others, because to admit that I am called to be scattered is scary. I am indeed called to be scattered. I am called to have pieces of my heart in soul in places, corners, and people all over this earth. I am called to show up with a heart wide open, ready to give everything I have to offer. I fight God constantly over this, yet, I keep trying to answer the call--sometimes a bit more willingly than other times, but I keep trying.I am so afraid of boxes with labels on them, but I put myself in the boxes all the time. I think it is time to give myself a break, to not label, to simply let myself be and just watch and see what happens.Peace, Joy, Blessings, and All My Love,Margaret