I suspect many of you have been having weird dreams, like I have, during this pandemic time. One recurring theme in all my dreams is packing—what I’ve packed too much of or what I forgot.
Our lives are sometimes compared to a journey, and the journey we’re on has taken a turn.
You know how it is when you’re packing for a trip. You have a list and you work through it: one skirt, one pair of pants, three travel undies. Shoes—how many? You wonder: Do I really need this sweater? Am I going to get so tired of hauling my suitcase around that I’ll want to throw it in a river? Should I bring the slippers or not?
Packing for a camping trip requires even more careful thought. In the Boundary Waters, you will not be able to pop into a shop for toothpaste or matches—you must bring everything you might need. But, staggering across a portage for the tenth time, will you regret bringing that camp chair?
Packing for mountain backpacking is even more extreme. Each item: how many ounces in this packet of food, this tin of fuel, this tent. Should you bring a down vest? If you don’t have a good rain suit, you might get hypothermia and die in those mountains!
During these days of global pandemic, I feel I’m being given the opportunity to consider what I’m carrying. My hair is becoming shaggy, my clothing standards lower—and I can ask myself what unnecessary items I’m lugging around.
I think of pioneer wagons passing discarded pianos, rocking chairs, and tables—all of which seemed valuable, even indispensable, but are now jettisoned to lighten the load.
What have you put to one side during these last few weeks that you realize you needn’t pick up again? Maybe there are things you had stored away that you’ve pulled out and now seem important. These may be literal ‘things’ or metaphorical ones.
All suffering invites sifting. Shaken down, we ponder what really matters, where our priorities are. Like Jesus said, “Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” Where is your heart?
Fewer errand-running jaunts. More time in contemplation and prayer. Deeper joy at the sparkles on the lake. Delight in faces when we see each other on zoom. Less irritation at small annoyances. More savoring of a slice of fresh bread.
All suffering invites sifting. Shaken down, we ponder what really matters, where our priorities are. How good our hugs will feel; how miraculous our being able to gather and share a meal.
Pay attention. What have you let go of that you probably won’t pick up again? What have you come to value more in these times? What do you realize you want to carry on beyond the end of this pandemic? This sifting may be one of the gifts of this time.
Each month a member of the Cook County Ministerium will offer Spiritual Reflections. This month’s contributor is Mary Ellen Ashcroft, Vicar of Spirit of the Wilderness Episcopal Church.
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