make a new one

make a new one

A few weeks ago, I envisioned writing my In Between Sundays reflection ahead of time, slowly and intentionally, paying it heart and mind when the mood struck.  After all, I really do prefer to do things when I’m in the mood. Anyway, that possibility (or was it more of a fantasy?) didn’t come to pass. Instead, I opened a Google doc, wrote three sentences of loose, semi-related notes, and never paid it one single mind until 4:07pm yesterday. Hey, that’s how it goes sometimes. And this somehow feels on brand for this time of year. 

March, especially early March, feels all over the place to me in disorienting and mutable ways. There are still plenty of lingering brown leaves from autumn, and the trees still look bare since their buds are still so tiny. Amidst the brown and lack of foliage, there are daffodils — such sunny spring soldiers. And the grass is slowly moving from brown to green with the rain this week. Some days the weather makes us wonder when winter will end, and other days we get a big blue sky and it’s just so dreamy outside. With the seesawing weather, it’s also fun(ny) to see how people decide to dress — some still rocking winter gear, others walking around in t-shirts. We’re all over the place.

If asked what my favorite season is, I’ll always, probably too passionately, explain why it’s fall. However, I’m also sweet on spring. Once the trees and flowers start budding and blooming, I mean, c’mon, it’s so good. And I’m likely also sweet on spring because Shepherd and Griffin, my creative and tender twins, have their birthday on March 16 (somehow they’ll be 9 this year!) I love that their birthday coincides with springtime and its themes of renewal, awakening, growth, etc. I know we are set here in thinking that the new year begins January 1, but I think we missed the mark. If we look around, it’s clear that the new year should begin in spring; not January 1st when we are staring down the dark and cold of full-on winter. How does that ambiance lend itself to representing beginnings and newness? How bizarre.

Anyway, this week, against this fluid Piscean seasonal backdrop, I had this thought, which I keep circling back to: let go of your old story so you can make a new one. It’s been making me think about how I/we must practice expanding our self-awareness so we can be mindful of what continues to serve us and what does not as time moves on. This way we can let go when needed, in order to make space for new growth and possibility, and new personal narratives. 

We are approaching several upcoming transitions, including a nerve-racking presidential election, a vote on Article II at this June’s UUA General Assembly, and an emotion-filled farewell to Rev. Paige. As we learn to live into UUCC’s new mission statement, as we explore as staff members and congregants what it means to do church by considering how we might move from consumers to citizens, and as modern spiritual leader Adrienne Maree Brown challenges us to to consider what it means to be in a time of new suns, I wonder what possibility might lie ahead — amidst all the transitions — if we can intentionally let go of what no longer serves us. What new personal and collective narratives might arise?

With love,
Sara (they/she)

One Comment

  1. Kathleen Parker

    Very interesting, Sara. I am making a change in my life. Giving up the journal I edit. What will come next? I’m not sure, but you have helped me think about how I can move forward on this.

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