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i’m coming home…

I admit, it’s been tough coming back home after the intensity of my week in St Louis. On the one hand, there was the wonderful experience of being heard. Granted I spent the largest part of the week with people who either are, or are studying to be Spiritual Directors; it kind of goes with the territory that they are good listeners. On the other hand, there was the weekend with my sister. We did a lot of talking about the past – some of it was pretty awful stuff. It was good to get the perspective of someone who shared many of my past experiences. It was also interesting to see that we remembered differently.
I felt transformed by the educational and spiritual happenings of the week. I felt put back in my place by my older sibling. No matter what we do, will our birth family always see us through the lens of having grown up with us? Will I forever be the klutzy, geeky little sister who was always a bit too concerned with matters of the soul? Actually, as I write that, I’m okay if that is the case. I could do much worse.
When I got home, my husband excluded, I figured I get about a minute and a half to talk about my trip. I was kind of depressed at that prospect. In real life, I got more along the line of 30 seconds before people’s eyes glazed over. Quite a few people have been avoiding me altogether, or so it seems. It’s been isolating, to say the least. I’ve been a bit down. I’ve doubted my experience, and I’ve missed my new colleagues and friends.
I’ve spent much of my time going through a shedding of an old skin. I’ve been cleaning out closets and cabinets and decluttering. I’ve given away things that no longer seem very important but have been admired by others. I even spent an afternoon with my husband clearing away dead branches and undergrowth from beneath two large live oak trees on our property, and have immensely enjoyed just sitting under their protective boughs. They are like a duo of sylvan rooms redolent with the possibility of Divine inspiration.
I’ve been moved by introspection most of my life, and it’s not completely lonely in my solitude. Still and all, I miss my friends. I wonder if they miss me. I also wonder if that question is more existential than I originally intended.

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