My summer was good and colored by the grief of saying good-bye to my old self and adopting or transforming into a new identity. This ordination track has been filled with peaks and valleys, joys and sorrows, transformation and concentration of essence. So it is just like life itself. Somehow, when I am seeking the Holy I still cling to the idea it will be set aside from life’s petty problems, which, of course, is baloney-both the setting aside and the pettiness of life’s problems. Since I have been working toward the goal of ordination, I have seen my old life recede and a new life come to the fore. With my time at St. John’s as an intern last academic year and my leaving in August for school, the shift has been sharper.
Once at a personal growth seminar, the leader posed the scenario of ‘what would be the first things you would do if plunked down with a small nest egg in an English speaking city unknown to you?’ My first thought was I would get business cards printed and then find a place to sleep and work. My work as a tax consultant and financial advisor has been central to my identity. For 35 years, I’ve had a desk filled with the tools of my trade.
Two years ago, I transferred the ownership of the bulk of my practice to my daughter, Susan. Yet the transfer of the business felt like it was paperwork primarily and the clients and I continued to work together without change. Now with me in Berkeley, Susan will move the offices around and I will no longer have my own office. I cleaned out my desk in August. It was very difficult. I am still involved in the business, working remotely from Berkeley, still talking with clients. However, at a distance, and not as my primary focus.
I wonder if it is harder to seek ordination when the life before was good and well developed. I have always loved my work even though, of course, it is sometimes hard and problematic as work often is. Why this seeking?
My life is/was good—a partner who loves me and whom I love, two children who are finding their own ways as adults, a dog of perfection to remind me of God’s love for creation—myself included, work that was of service, personally satisfying and met my economic needs, a faith community that was nourishing me and hopefully I was nourishing them. With a life so rich and satisfying, why was I called to spend so much money and so much time changing everything? Grief and fear kissed each other, and caught me in their embrace.
I’ve thought about the decision to continue on this track and what the decision means to my intimate family. In some ways, I have felt comfortable making major decisions since they would only really affect me. (Oh foolish me, as if any decisions in my life only affect me.) The results of this decision are becoming clearer. I will be of less financial assistance to my children and to the organizations I have supported. My partner, Kathleen, will work several years longer and have a less secure retirement. I will not do many things that had been part of my vision of my own retirement like learning to paint, traveling, and continuing to live in my current home. Kathleen and I will spend extended time away from each other. And for what? Will my work as a priest be worth it?
What was I thinking? On the other hand, perhaps this was one of the times I wasn’t thinking. That’s happened before.
Taking all these thoughts, fears, and concerns to God has helped tremendously. I had a chance to preach at Resurrection in Eugene in August and found that I preached what I needed to hear. I heard from God that sometimes I have more faith in my fears than in my relationship with her. I heard from the Holy Spirit that I wasn’t that person, that tax consultant any longer and part of the change was the fact that I’m older now, the fire in the belly burns for different reasons. All of us go through times of loss of identity with job changes, illness, divorce, death, and aging. It’s just hit me hard because I haven’t had much practice in big shifts that I sought out.
With time in prayer and in conversation with Kathleen, I came to Berkeley in good shape. Now with some time in Berkeley, I’m seeing the arc of the pieces of my identity that are staying with me, which, of course are the major and central pieces of who I am. I’m also now ready to set aside several identity pieces that no longer fit. Much of what I was feeling grief about is still a part of me but in a new configuration. I stayed present to the process I’ve been experiencing and I think I’ve found a newly arranged set of skills to handle this type of grieving process.
And I have a new desk in Berkeley full of office supplies and school tools and new/old friends to be my colleagues, so I am feeling more grounded.
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