Practice makes better

But it is so damn hard sometimes.

I've been feeling lonely. It's the sort of vague, unnamed feeling that seems to undergird my every day here on this lovely Hill. Sometimes I hate it, sometimes I rise above it, and most times I am tired enough to not do much about it.

But I decided last week to be more active in practicing positivity. Right. And since it is Easter, a specific sort of 'positivity' comes to mind, which I'll use these excerpts from Wendell Berry's The Mad Farmer Liberation Front to express:

So, friends, every day do something that won't compute.
Love the Lord. Love the world.
Work for nothing. Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.

Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.

Go with your love to the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.

Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

Practice resurrection.

Anne Lamott says frequently in her book Grace Eventually that very often the bravest and best thing we can do is get out of bed each morning.

Practice resurrection.

So here's one thing that I'll miss about St. Olaf, about Northfield, about this chapter in my life as I move into the next one: I'll miss Holy Cross Dundas. I'll miss this tiny congregation that it's taken me four years to get to know and feel a part of...these people who have been so supportive and such a down-to-earth, flawed-in-all-the-human-ways community. I have rarely been at my best here. But I have always been welcomed and loved, even when I didn't let myself notice. It's like Jacob and his dream of a ladder..."Surely the LORD is in this place, and I did not know it!"