New Year, New Life

This is the first year in many years that I've done anything like resolutions. I find myself having returned to my city, my job, my home, my church, my spaces and places for a new beginning. My sabbatical year was a year of Jubilee. And now the clock has reset. In many ways, I am beginning again - yet not quite starting over. My resolution, intention, kavanah, is to renew my vocation and relationships in and to this place and these people and, cultivate new ones along the way.

No Place Like Home

But where is my home?
One of the joys of this sabbatical has been visiting other churches. There is one preacher in particular who really speaks to me, although she regularly challenges me - we share neither theology (in some cases) nor denomination. And that is good. For me. I don't want to belong to or even visit a church of me.
Yet I find I'm reluctant to return to my home church. I have been back once every couple of months or so. And the people are so wonderful. I miss them and they miss me. I love them and know they love me. And I still love our liturgy and traditions. But there are some things about our hierarchy and preaching (preacher) that I do not miss. At all.
I'm clear that I cannot stay in any of my host congregations. Nor would I want to. I don't belong there. Or there. Or even there.
Do I belong in my congregation? I am committed to them. It feels like a job even though I volunteer and regularly serve in other congregations. I long to return to my teaching vocation, even with the administrative work and meetings that I loathe. It's more than worth it.
But I don't want to return to my church.
I really don't want to.
But I will.
There's no place else for me here.
I guess it is home.
For now.

Born to Make Music

UPDATE!!!
My friend who I'm calling Miles - more of his story is below - has found a way to play his guitar in spite of the brain injury that has frozen his right hand. Another friend realized that Miles could hold a small disc about the diameter of the doorknob, about an inch think. He attached a vertical piece of metal on it and Miles uses it as a slide on the strings of his guitar as he learns to finger with his left hand. Miles was born to make music and is making it happen.

ORIGINAL POST:
I've been spending time with a new friend. [The photo is one I found on the 'net; it's not my friend, but he'd like it.] I'll call him Miles - I think he'd like that because he is in his own way as consummate a musician as is the eternal Miles Davis. Miles, the earthbound, was also born to make music. It is in his soul, it is his vocation. Whatever other jobs he has held, alongside his vocations as husband and father, he is a musician. His preferred medium is the guitar. I didn't know him in his guitar playing days. But I have heard of his renown.
I met Miles after he suffered a brain injury. He spends most of his days in a wheelchair, but he is not bound to it. He stands hourly to do his exercises and can take a few dozen steps at a time. His right hand, however, is curled and immobile. His guitar playing days are over.
But Miles was born to make music. It is in his soul, it is his vocation. He has had to find another medium. He has chosen the harmonica because he can play it with his mouth and left hand. On my last visit he was adjusting an old camera tripod to be a stand for his harmonica. He strapped a pillow on it, leans over and rests the harmonica and his hand on the pillow.
Last night I went over while some of his friends from his old band one some other musicians came over to play. And I heard the music in his soul.
Miles' injury did not exempt him from his vocation. He has all this music welling up in him and he had to find a way to get it out. And he did. He reminds me how hard vocations can be, even when they are joy-filled. Just because God has called you and equipped you to do something, doesn't mean it will be easy. But it will be the most fulfilling thing you have ever done. And if it seems like God has called you to an impossible vocation, don't give up because God has enabled you to do what God has called you to do, no matter how difficult the task.

I'm Also Having an Affair

I didn't mean to, but I fell in love with my sabbatical parish. It's the same old story - the one I have at home doesn't treat me like the new one. The one at home takes me for granted; the passion is gone. And this new one is so good to me and makes me so very happy.
Here, I am reveling in my vocation: the teaching and preaching is a gift and a calling. It's working; I'm appreciated. My colleague and I work well together. I feel valued, wanted, welcome. All of which throws into sharp relief how used and taken for granted I feel at home sometimes.
Why can't it always be like this? Why can't it be like this with one to whom I'm committed? Why can't I stay here? Is this just the hormonal flush of new love? If it is, I don't care!
I know this love won't last forever. I know I'll have to go home eventually. I know I'll have to go back to that other relationship. I'm not looking forward to that.
So what happens after an affair? Do you go back to your old situation with your new knowledge of how it can be? Do you leave your old love for a (another) new love in hopes of having the kind of love you had in your affair?
I'm having an affair and I intend to savor every sweet moment until we have to say goodbye.