Rough Week and a Reflection

Hi friends and family,

I wanted to write again because this week has been tough at work but I've also received lots of love. I've been pretty stressed, and I was also responsible for a fairly colossal error, which was NOT fun. I picked up the pieces by calling to cancel twenty appointments, thus disappointing that many individuals to whom I  had promised assistance with light/heat bills. Things have been a bit harder without Sandra here because there's not always someone around who has the answers I need. Still, I have a wonderful staff at work and I'm grateful for everybody at EPH. I have a lot of responsibilities, perhaps more than I should have considering I am a volunteer with just four months under my belt, and this week I just feel like I'm buried under a bunch of work. I know I'll catch up eventually, but the major emotional blow was definitely having to cancel those energy assistance appointments.

Anyway, thank you to Molly for spending an hour on the phone with me during Finals Week. Also to Jill for the belated and wonderful birthday surprise ($$ for Cafe D!) and to St. Nick who mysteriously found his way to the Gresham community and showered all eight of us with treats. I very much appreciate your long-distance love. This week has definitely had its blessings (despite my complaining). We had dinner with the Jesuits and Lindsay and I went to the Contemplative Mass at St. Ignatius afterwards, which is always nice. I had tostadas for lunch one day at work. I tackled Lindsay in the living room. We got a Christmas tree (carried it a half block home, as I mentioned) and have now made decorations for it. My ornament is pretty hideous, but some of my very talented housemates have embroidered owls and other lovely ornaments. Tonight, at Mac House in Portland, we're having an Advent gathering for current and former JVs, support people, family and friends. I would love to share with you the reflection that I'm reading this evening. It will follow this entry.

Finally, I want to clarify one thing: I AM excited to come home. It's just going to be a bit of a shock. And I am very aware of the fact that many of my clients have family in Mexico and do not have the means to go home for the holidays, so it does set me apart from them and I am trying to close that gap just a bit this year. Still, please don't get me wrong... I fear I may have hurt some of your feelings, but that was NOT my intention. I am most definitely eager to see you, hug you, and spend time celebrating Christmas with you. My heart is merely split, that is all.

Have a wonderful day. Keep me in your prayers, please, and I'll keep you all in mine. Here's tonight's reflection. Happy Advent. Lots of love.

Amanda


THE WORD "I"



Franz Wright

Harder to breathe

near the summit, and harder


to remember

where you came from,


why you came


Winter's

harder, and harder to say

the word "I"

with a straight face,

and sleep--


who can sleep. Who has time


to prepare for the big day

when he will be required

to say goodbye to everyone, including

the aforementioned pronoun, relinquish

all earthly attachment

completely, and witness

the end of the world--


harder in other words

not to love it
not to love it so much

REFLECTION (mine):
During Advent, we get the feeling that we, like the speaker in the poem, are climbing toward a summit or a “something bigger”— and we are. As we journey toward the grand celebration of Christmas, we too might find that it is difficult to breathe and to remember where we come from. Mainstream society has been telling us that it’s time for Christmas since just after Halloween and if we’re not in Christmas mode, we have fallen behind. We have been inundated with Christmas songs, Christmas sales, and the stress of the holidays. How can we resist this whirlwind of activity? Who has time these days to remember who we are and why we have come here when there are gifts to purchase, houses to clean, and cookies to bake?

It is easy to lose ourselves in this festive cacophony; it is certainly easy to overlook and even entirely skip Advent, a liturgical season that seems completely out of sync with the rhythm of our hectic lives. Yet, this time of active anticipation, against the tide of secular culture, moves us to breathe deeply and gently, examine our ways, and allow ourselves to feel not pressured and constricted but liberated and expanded. During Advent, we create room inside our hearts and our lives for reflection, service, penance, and quiet. But rather than stretching ourselves so that we can “do” Advent along with all of the other things we’re trying to do, perhaps the key to Advent is accepting that it is less about doing than about simply BEING: being attentive, being aware, and being present in this moment rather than counting down the days until Christmas.

The speaker in the Franz Wright poem struggles to reconcile a love for the world and its creatures with a sobering understanding that the end of his time on earth is fast approaching. In these fragile and finite moments, the speaker becomes aware of a profound, almost painful, attachment to this life. Despite this tension, he is able to articulate a deepening love that can only be the result of a genuine inner freedom. Perhaps in these final days, weeks, or months, he finds himself more in tune with the everyday wonders that he has, for years, been a bit too busy to appreciate. Perhaps he now sees that these simple miracles are the things he will miss the most when he has gone from this life. Perhaps he is discovering within himself a capacity for joy, gratitude, and compassion that he never thought possible. Maybe he, only after having arrived at his life’s final stages, is finally released from the rush of trying to get somewhere.

Stillness is not something that we normally associate with the busy weeks leading up to Christmas, but gatherings like this one remind us to slow down and savor, to simplify, to focus on the interior rather than the exterior, to put our energy into relationships rather than material things. As we approach the third Sunday of Advent, we might ask ourselves how we’re doing so far. Has it taken us these past two weeks just to quiet ourselves? Are we still starting Advent, even as the Advent clock ticks away? Or have we been able to take advantage of this opportunity to refresh and reflect before the jubilance of December 25th?

We prepare to celebrate the birth of Jesus, but we also prepare for the daily arrival of Jesus into our hearts. Amidst all of the noisy chaos of the season, we turn inward and listen for the peaceful voice of the Spirit within us. We ask who we are, why we are here, and where we have come from— and then listen patiently and with much hope for the still, small whisper of response. We commit ourselves to one another and to the Lord through service, community, and reflection and invite God into our lives in a special way. Like the speaker in the poem, we also prepare, each day, for the moment when we will leave this world for another. We are reminded that detachment is hard, that this world is a beautiful and incredible place, and that we have but a small period of time to let it seep in. Advent invites us to examine the ways in which we spend these precious moments and to re-dedicate our lives to the practice of boundless, Christ-like love.

This is the hard work we should be doing during Advent, and we might take a moment to consider: What is our ultimate destination, and what value does this journey hold for us? What is the opportunity that we have been given this Advent season, and how have we responded to it? Where have we seen God’s amazing work these busy days? Who or what has been a light for us during this dark winter? What have we done to allow Christ’s compassion, justice, and peace to settle in our hearts and minds? How might we breathe easier so that when the time for celebration arrives, we are rejuvenated and overflowing with joy?