My last blog post was reflecting on the end of my middler year in seminary. I went on to my Senior year, graduated, and was ordained a deacon in the Episcopal Church on June 25th. The toll that the pandemic and other hard life events took on us, and I mean most all of us in my class and our partners, was noticed even more as we sort of crawled our way to the finish line. I have life-long friends from our three years together, but we were all ready to move on.
In particular, 400 sq. ft. can be hard. It can be shelter and a privilege, for sure, but I really needed a door. A door is privacy, sometimes a wall, but also sometimes a necessary space for sanity. A door is an invitation, but also a protector. We now have a door, in fact several, in our new rental duplex that feels like a palace in comparison to student housing.
So, those hands were on my head, ordaining me (again, but that’s another story) to the sacred order of deacons and I just did not realize how much I’d love the full service of a deacon. I love my curacy placement in Houston. Three weeks in and feels like I’m in my skin again, it’s what I know–scrappy church. Life is hard in this community, but people are resilient, deeply faithful, and meet the challenges without first wanting to throw in the towel. Everyone has been gracious, kind, supportive, helpful, and seem to enjoy helping me improve my Spanish speaking skills. I think I’ve come along faster speaking Spanish every day for three weeks than I did in three years at seminary! Immersion is the key.
I need to write, I think it helps the pandemic-life changing-moving-worry-family-climate anxiety that has come with me from seminary. Maybe it will inspire dialogue. Maybe it will help me keep teasing out my faith journey and theological conundrums, or maybe it will be helpful to someone else. I do know, I already feel better for getting some words down.
Magdalena's Musings 