For a while, the elusive January has been my carrot: "Don't worry, things will get better in January." "There will be so many groups in town in January." "You'll get to lead a group trip in January." "You won't be so lonely anymore in January." And the best one of all: "You get to fly home... in January." And now January has come. It feels a bit like a personal accomplishment, as if I alone coaxed January to arrive, simply by putting one foot in front of the other and plodding through all of the long and lonely months that came before. This is ridiculous, of course, but it still feels good in an aching-muscles sort of way, that January is finally here.
But now I am a little scared. Inadvertently, perhaps, but I have built up January into this massive future highlight in my head, put this month on a pedestal, expected far too much of it. And now it is here. If I am not careful, January is going to disappoint me like a childhood hero caught red-handed. Or maybe even worse. Maybe this month will be amazing, and I will love working with our groups, and leading the trip to Erfurt and Berlin, and maybe my trip home will be absolutely fabulous and I will feel my empty places filling back up with friendship and belonging and community. And that would be worse, because after the trip is over, I have to come back.
Coming back has not been easy for me the past few months, and I think it is getting worse instead of better. After spending Christmas with my friend Jasmin, I had to come back. As I got in the train, the doors slid closed behind me with a resounding clank. My furlough was over. And then I went to this New Year's retreat, where I spent five days talking and playing games and laughing and eating and singing and celebrating with twenty other young adults and four Lutheran monks, and I recognized an energy in me that has been away far too long. And I resolved to take it with me when I left, to let it accompany me into the Promised Month. But when I got to the train station for the trip back, I felt it slipping away.
But I don't think it's gone forever. After all, January still has 24 more days...
Thursday, January 06, 2005
Coming back
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4 comments:
Meckhead is way too witty for her own good. Her answering-machine messages always make me laugh out loud. "What you, too" your retreat sounded awesome. What's the deal with Lutheran monks?
Hi Jessica,
I understand a little of what you're going through. When I first came to Japan, I only knew one person in total, and he was *permanently* at work, so most of my daily conversations were dependent on how chatty the supermarket checkout clerk was feeling.
There were some days I wouldn't speak to a single person, and I'd start to wonder if I was still capable of even making sounds, let alone forming whole sentences. Without human contact, I felt myself growing still, fading.
Sorry, I don't want to make you feel worse. I just want you to know that I went through something similar, and I survived. And you sound like a far more enduring, joyful person than I've ever been.
Loneliness can feel like an amputation, but in fact it's just a small scar. You'll carry it with you always, but it won't affect the person you are at the core. And you haven't forgotten how to be a real human being with people your own age! Looks like you did fine during the New Year's retreat. I'm glad you had a good time.
You guys are great, all of you. Thank you for engaging me in age-appropriate and even witty conversation, and for being good examples of how to deal with situations that threaten to extinguish brave flames of hope, and for being adventurous women who come out OK in the end.(Breaks into loud, off-key rendition of "I will survive".)
Rachel, I can SO relate to a dependence on the chattiness of supermarket clerks! And thank you for the new imagery for loneliness; I find it helpful already. I am not sure how great I was at chatting up the folks my age, though. The day before we left, I told the person I had been talking to the most that I thought he will turn out to be a great pastor, and that he is a good listener, etc, and he took it as a crazed declaration of love. It wasn't. Oh dear.
As for the Lutheran monks, Abba, it surprised me too when I first met them. But the monastic tradition is alive and well in Germany, in both denominations (Lutheran and Catholic) and both genders. True, many of the monks and nuns are getting quite old, but there are always a couple of younger ones ready to carry on the flame.
And to my fan club and Meckhead in particular: my tour is taking me exclusively to Lake Wobegone territory this time. I will be doing my thing (read: playing with my niece, getting consecrated, catching up with old friends and meeting my grandmother's boyfriend) in living rooms and in front of fireplaces in the Twin Cities area and in western Iowa. I will be making stops in Waverly and Des Moines, Iowa and White Bear Lake and Apple Valley, Minnesota. Unfortunately I don't have any bookings for Chicago at this point. But definitely on the Autumn or Winter 2005 tour.
Jess- we would love to attend your consecration. Mom mentioned receiving an invite- can you give me more info? I'm so excited to see you!!!
And- you don't know what TIVO is????? Wow--- really?
Ok- look for a description of how it has changed life at our home in my blog very soon. :)
Amy
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