I've been on sabbatical. A gift - a month of time to myself, to use however I've deemed fit. An acknowledgment of hard work, of the weight of stressful situations. An acknowledgment that life in intentional community can be intensive and after 10 or so adult years of it, some space and time to stretch out might bring a little light and life - put more poetically, an acknowledgement that "absence makes the heart grow fonder." And a concrete financing of such fondness-growing is astounding, I think.
Since when do we Americans, concerned with productivity and bottom lines, fund the growth of fondness? We financially support growth of many other sorts - but fondness?? Well, yes, some people and organizations financially support the growth of fondness. And L'Arche Atlanta is apparently one of them.
And fondness it has increased. Whew. That was a close one. When one leaves, there's always the risk of one being woo'd to stay where one has gone, of realizing that one is very dissatisfied with one's everyday, the choices and commitments they've made for their work-a-day lives. And of course what a gift when one has the gift of time and space to make those kind of deep realizations too.
But for me, fondness has increased. The time and space has been a shot in the arm, the distance has offered me perspective for more deeply appreciating my community, my way of life.
Now I wouldn't say that I was in a non-appreciative place before I left. I did just re-commit to L'Arche Atlanta, in my role as Live-in House Coordinator, for another year. I've been in a wholehearted "yes" place - after an admittedly turbulent discernment. And the sabbatical idea came out of the turbulent discernment. Yes, I appreciated and loved L'Arche, but yes, I was also tired. And especially after some go-go weeks of preparation for being absent for 5 weeks (sabbatical, plus a week of professional time), I found myself "letting go" in very tangible ways.
I've been grateful to be feeling the waves of sabbatical-feelings that I would hope to have, at the times I'd hope to have them. I felt myself "letting go" just before I'd yet gone. And then I "let go" pretty much totally.
I had a week of professional time at the Tennessee Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church, of which I am clergy. I let go of Atlanta for that week while in Nashville, so much so that a call from someone in Atlanta was a bit disorienting - hold on, what's that name? Oh yes, I go to your house every week - but - not now, because I am gone. I have let go of Atlanta for right now. It was an "on" time, trending toward over-stimulation and restlessness (lots of people time, sitting time, lots of information and words, and a bit of concern for political positioning). But it was a time of beautiful connections, of worship and singing too.
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And then I drove to Green Bough House of Prayer in Scott, Georgia - I've lovingly referred to it as "the middle of nowhere, south Georgia." There, I had no cell reception and limited internet. I could connect when I needed or wanted to, but not out of default or habit or in response to a general cloud of obligation. I was able to "let go." I was welcomed into a small community of 2 monastic Methodists and another long-term resident - a community which holds prayer at its heart, keeps lots of silence, and hosts retreatants. It's a beautiful life, and I felt so privileged to get to be welcomed into this shared life for 3 whole weeks - a life full of delight for each person and of savoring of each moment. A life full of awe, and cultivated intentionally that way.
Now, when this notion of a month of time was offered up, I naturally thought of many ideas for this time. Is this the time to go to France? Is this the time to visit my friends who are scattered in many places, and I never get enough in-person time with? And I finally realized - if this is to truly be sabbatical, if I'm to truly rest for the most of that month, I ought to minimize travel. I decided to go to one place and settle into some practices. My hope was to farm, pray, and write.
And so that's what I did. I "farmed" a bit - not at any crazy pace or concern for major productivity. There were tasks and projects to help complete, but no sense of pressure or urgency. I helped do things like plant seeds, mix compost, water, shovel horse manure, pick berries. And I was invited into other farm/garden-related projects - but again, kind of "just for fun," because I was around and some things are easier to do with 2 people, or because I was interested to learn. I helped make jam and jelly, fermented pickles, soap - and I did some flower pressing on my own.
I prayed a fair bit. I was invited into a rhythm of morning, evening, and night prayer. And I'd been encouraged by the spiritual director there to cultivate a more intentional practice of personal prayer, so I brought some of my recently acquired "tools" for prayer and played around with those a bit. I brought the L'Arche Jubilee prayer, my anniversary prayer beads, meditation cushion, Mary statue - and borrowed a Bible (eek - how do I manage to always forget that key element?). I did a bit of yoga too. I met with Fay, the spiritual director, at the beginning and ending of my time.
And I wrote. I journaled and wrote cards. I thought I might blog, I had that intention. But I haven't until now. I am still on sabbatical though - I'm in my "incognito in Atlanta" week. I may transfer some of my journaled thoughts to blog. We'll see. I brought a book with me about writing as practice and thought I might set a daily practice of writing creatively. I found myself writing almost daily, but not because I sat down to do so. It flowed a lot at the beginning, then ebbed and flowed again through my time.
I also went on walks, read a fair bit, took naps, chatted with folks, helped prep meals and tidy the bookstore, explored neighboring towns a bit, and participated in the nightly "entertainment hour" of the residential community. Main highlight - watched the 2 seasons of "Forsyte Saga" all the way through, one episode each night (except for the very end, when we watched 2 back to back, because I was going to be gone when it was going off of Netflix).
I've said it felt a bit like being retired. I usually had some intentions written down about things I hoped to accomplish on different days, but generally, I took each day as it came, setting plans at that pace - and sometimes changing them. Do I want to go for a walk now? Or read? etc.
Next post, I want to offer a quote and a reflection from the main book that "accompanied" my stay at Green Bough. But for now, this is plenty about my time at Green Bough.
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This time was lovely of course. But, as I said, my heart has also been growing in fondness for my L'Arche community. I would sometimes consider, maybe life in a place like Green Bough would feel right for me at some point? And I would think, no, not yet anyway - I so love the chaos, the delightful surprises, the delightful personalities - and I have so many hopes for our little community. And I would miss it. At other times, a memory would just float into my mind, and I would miss it again.
So, I found myself both cherishing my time at Green Bough and missing L'Arche at the same time. When I was preparing to go away for a weekend for L'Arche celebrations - saying goodbye to Curt and affirming our mandate and new community leader Tim - I again found myself feeling all the predictable-enough feelings at all the hoped-for times. I felt this tension of love for Green Bough and cherishing sabbatical, and love for L'Arche and my everyday. I felt myself missing L'Arche, but wishing I could just keep missing everyone from afar, from Green Bough. I felt myself glad to be able to return to Green Bough for another week, and to have yet another week "off" in Atlanta after that. And when imagining that rhythm, it felt supple, like I would be ready when it comes time to re-enter life back at L'Arche.
And I've had other feelings in regard to all of our transitions happening at L'Arche this summer, and largely while I'm away. I've felt the disorienting feeling of lots of change happening while I'm away. Tim moved out while I was away, and Megan moved into his room. I knew this (intellectually) before I left. But these things hit the heart in waves when you don't necessarily expect them. A 3rd new Assistant, Andrew, was confirmed while I was away, he has moved into my room for a week until I get back - and I haven't met him in-person yet.
I've felt a sense of abandonment and sadness about departures - not only is "everyone leaving!", but a feeling that "everyone's leaving me!" Tim already moved out, though transitioning into his new role. Chelsea, our live-out Assistant, leaves this week. Curt will have his last official "work" day a couple days after I get back. Laura, who's stepped in to hold down the fort while I'm away, with many of the responsibilities and the authority role, will leave after I've been back a week. Sara leaves after I'm back for a week.
I'm also feeling, along with Terry, a certain sense of solace and excitement, though (excitement has actually been a major theme these past few months!), with this delightful new team we have, as we move forward. I've been hearing and observing little bits of Terry's (core member) dis-ease with all the transition happening - all these departures - but when he realized that I would be returning and that 2 other Assistants would also be arriving, all he can talk about is helping move boxes and that new people are coming. These things hit us in waves.
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So, I've been on sabbatical. And I've been carrying transition as one of my companions on this sabbatical journey. I've been carrying sadness and joy, peacefulness and excitement. And amidst all of this, I've also been growing in fondness. How delightful is that.
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