Moments are simply the brief passings of time as we move through our lives. Most are here and gone, but a scattered few hold our attention. While all of living is sacred, there are those scattered brief moments that particularly speak to our hearts, enrich our lives or reveal unexpected beauty. Scattered moments. Sacred moments.
Since I last wrote in this space, critical parts of my life have changed. My beloved spouse died. He was a life partner, a loving and beautiful man who brought joy to many through his music and his kindness. Now I navigate what life will be without him. At the same time I find myself unemployed as my work contract ends. Two major losses. Endings and openings.
While it’s hard to see, I trust the sacred embedded in these moments. If Paul must die, let it be surrounded in the beauty of love and gentled by care. I slept by his side every night until the end, held his hand as his final gentle breath slipped into the universe. All he ever asked for in his last moments of consciousness was his beloved child. And Finn was there. We did nothing but be together in those last days, as our friends came and went, saying their good-byes.
Many people have commented on the bad timing of the end of the work I was doing. But I assure them with all sincerity that it is all good. It feels like God is giving me this moment to really feel the emptiness so that I can find the most life-giving way to fill it. What is it that I am truly called to be doing in this world? How can my particular gifts be used to heal brokenness, uplift beauty, bring forth justice? How do I offer myself?
It was a long winter. Snow fell like we have not seen for 20 years in this generally temperate place. After which we had months of grey days and rain. But today spring is definitely here. Clear blue sky. Buttercups and dandelions brighten the green. I can see moths fluttering through the grass. A neighbour has hung laundry out to dry. Laughter from the school yard floats through my open window.
It is not yet clear to me what I will be doing going forward. Yet I know that as sure as spring comes, life will unfold in unexpected and, I believe, beautiful ways. As Julian of Norwich reminds us, “all shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.” Not that there will never be more sorrow, never be pain or disappointment. But that the scattered, sacred moments will reveal themselves. And strung together they will uplift and cradle my one precious life.
Thanks be to God.
musings of someone spiritual and oddly religious
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