Way in the World

Wait.
This blessing does not require that you close your eyes or bow your heads.
I ask that you keep your eyes open, your head up.
Listen.
The finest blessing a meal can have is great companionship.
Look around this room. Take notice of those who sit with you.
Look around you. Look at these men and women.
Consider who they are, what they have done, and what they stand for.
Consider that you are not alone on your Way in the world.
Consider that you have the honor to break bread with such as these.
Look.
And know that this meal and each of us is abundantly blessed.
Amen.
~Robert Fulgham

This weekend, I’ve had a few people call me out of the blue, that I haven’t heard from in many months. I’m not sure how I feel about it.

I realized this morning, as I was meditating over my morning coffee, that I still harbor negative feelings about losing my last job. I just wrote to a friend that I felt as though I left tarred and feathered. I hadn’t understood that feeling until the very moment that the words flowed out of my fingers onto the screen. Now I feel the need to explore those feelings further.

What does it mean, to leave feeling tarred and feathered? Why did I feel that way, and why do those feelings still persist, more than half a year later?

I think, foremost, it was because I left so quickly, so abruptly, that there was no time for closure. I didn’t really have a chance to say goodbye. My goodbye service was also the congregation’s goodbye for the summer service, so everyone had lots more people to acknowledge. And, because it all happened so quickly, it was almost as though I left under a cloud. Did they all wonder why it happened so quickly? Did they wonder if I had done something dishonest and nasty; some secret shameful thing that would necessitate running me out of town that quickly?

It felt to me as though people were afraid to talk to me. So very many people never even said goodbye; I guess I’ll never know why. Were they sorry? Were they angry at me, that I didn’t live up to expectations and ruined all their plans? Were they embarrassed at how everything was handled? Did they just not know what to say to me, and therefore said nothing? I guess I’ll never know.

I also realized this morning that I wasn’t allowed to say goodbye to them. I never had a chance to tell all those amazing people how much they meant to me, how much I enjoyed working with them for those two years, how much I learned from them, how they touched my life in so many wonderful ways. I don’t know why I wasn’t given the chance to speak at the service to say goodbye, and I was still so stunned, so in shock, that I didn’t think to question that decision, didn’t think to ask for some time. Now I’m sorry. I would have liked to have told them how much I loved them, how I valued my time with them, and how sorry I was to be leaving them.

In my quest to live in the present, I ponder how I can release these questions; release the feelings of sorrow and dismay that have bubbled up in me this morning.

Perhaps the writing down of these feelings will do it. Perhaps the tears that have slowly trickled into my coffee have carried the last negative emotions with them, and I can be free finally to just remember with gladness in my heart my time spent there.

I will consider the men and women, boys and girls, with whom I sat in companionship, and be grateful for knowing them. I will think about who they are, what they have done, and what they stand for. I will remember that I am not alone on my Way in the world. I will know that I had the honor to break bread with such as these, and that I was abundantly blessed.

Thank you.