Disorientation

Rev. Dr. Kate Winters

Fragments of bad dreams swirl in my head as I get up today, taunting my usually joyful morning spirit. It was a busy night, so many of my personal fears and flaws dancing before me. I am walking down Avenue L in Canarsie (the section of Brooklyn where I grew up) in a fierce storm. I call my mother to come and get me, but she refuses. Then I am in an office workplace, totally incapable of completing the simplest task, and no one will explain anything to me. Finally, I am abandoned by someone who was my friend as she goes off with someone else while nothing looks familiar around me. I am totally lost.

Upon waking I am filled with unsettled feelings – disorientation, loss, most certainly abandonment. I realize this is a new phase of my retirement. The novelty and celebration of it is over. Some wounds need to be tended to.

It is a common practice in many church denominations including my own for the pastor to fully leave their faith community upon retirement to prepare the congregation to accept and embrace the new pastor. So after nearly two decades of pouring our hearts and souls into our church, Joel and I need to find another place for all that love to go. What is it said about grief – that all it is is love with no place to go? The grief of this time is enormous and disorienting.

It would not be appropriate for me to question the wisdom of this denominational practice now except to say that I would welcome the opportunity to support the new pastor of the community I have loved. And if that means bearing this grief, then that’s what it means. I do wish there was a better and gentler way.

In the meantime, I know my calling – to keep loving. Perhaps if I didn’t have a major surgery in a few weeks, I would be seeking new ways to reach out to the Belfast community. My dreams could then be less about disorientation and more about new connections. We both will need to reorient ourselves to this place as we own a home here.

But honestly, it is already beginning. The wildlife on our land have surrounded us with welcome. Deer, turkey, various birds, even a few squirrels have worked at being entertaining. I am still waiting for the moose in the backyard. The daffodils and tulips are inching out of the ground. Finally the piles of snow have melted off the back deck and I am free to go outside to listen for the barred owl in the woods. When she calls, I know my grief will be lifted and I will be home.