I’m working this month. Some.

I am now officially on the Diocese of Texas payroll, and they have graciously given me some time to transition. It’s a time for me to find a new home–physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

I’m spending the month reading in preparation for my new call, taking my annual Epiphany retreat in New Mexico, and doing ministry with the curates and the Iona School for Ministry.

And being the chaplain for the Diocese of Texas Junior Daughters of the King annual retreat. I realized last summer on the mission trip to the Dominican Republic how much I love chaplain ministry, and add serving children and youth, and I am over the moon.

On the Junior DOK retreat last weekend, with. the awesome music leader, Lee, I led worship in the morning, noonday, and at the close of day. I celebrated a very cold Holy Eucharist by the lake. I led the labyrinth prayer station. I hung out with wonderful girls and women.

We used plastic coffee cups and a plastic tray from the campsite for the paten and chalice.

Two Junior Daughters of the King served as Eucharistic Ministers.

There was time to talk and listen and laugh and be. With women and girls by the lake, it was community. It is something that I’m learning how to do now that my ministry is no longer in the parish.

As I reimagine Home–in body, mind and Spirit.

In years past, it’s made my heart sad to not have family around at Christmas. When I knew that I would have this time of Sabbath before beginning my new job, at the top of my list was to be with my grandboys at Christmas. It has been beyond wonderful.

Worship was lovely on Christmas Eve, and it was wonderful going to bed at a sensible hour snuggled with a grandson. However, I have been blindsighted by how I have felt not having a church family near.

I missed walking into the empty nave before worship began and feeling the fullness of a silent night. I missed my face aching at the end of Christmas Eve from smiling and greeting endlessly friends old and new. I even missed awakening with a Christmas morning worship hangover, and then driving to lead one more service and being greeted by holy quiet and the smell of incense in the nave.

What I’ve found myself missing the most was the accountability of being part of a faith community. It has been a challenge to keep the rhythm of offices and holy days.

In retrospect, I realized how much I need those faith relationships to keep myself centered in spiritual practices.

For example, it has been the custom of St. Mary’s to read the Gospel appointed for the coming year aloud in community in its entirety on an evening early in Advent. I committed to do this on my own this year but never made it through the whole of Luke. I need the encouragement of others to do what I know it is best for me to do.

Yesterday was my last day to be paid by St. Mary’s. Today I am officially Missioner of Congregational Vitality and an employee of the Diocese of Texas.

I ended my Christmas trip one day early in order to spend tomorrow looking for my new house. I’ll be working the rest of the week and needed to take advantage of the free day.

As important as it is for me to find a home with an address, this past month has shown me how important it is for me to find a home with a church community. As much as I crave my personal spiritual practices, this past month has clearly shown me how that is not enough for my relationship with Christ.

Good to know.

One of the gifts of being an Episcopalian is that Christmas lasts twelve days. In planning this trip to see my Bend family, I had all sorts of ideas of ways to celebrate each day.

At the beginning of Advent, I sent my grandboys a homemade Advent calendar, of sorts, with a card to open each day. In each envelope, there was a small card with a food item and a Bible verse. The first envelope had a one hundred bill to buy the food items. The plan was to buy the groceries during my Christmas visit and deliver them to someone who might be hungry.

Today, the second day of Christmas, was the day. My daughter-in-law suggested a local agency that serves those without homes called the Bethlehem Inn (how appropriate is that?). On their website, they had a list of items they actually needed so that became our revised list.

As we had made our plan on how to celebrate the second day of Christmas, the boys talked about sharing God’s love, and we decided to do something for someone else before we did something for ourselves.

We shopped the local Fred Meyer, and the boys used their $100 to buy two $50 gift cards. I matched their gift by purchasing the items on the list. The boys chose which specific meat, cheese, butter, cereal, paper goods and other items we would buy (the ones they would want for themselves) for our friends at Bethlehem Inn.

A quick stop at Starbucks for some personal provisions, and then we were off to the Inn.

Our outing was capped off with a trip to see the new Spiderman movie. One of the gifts of being a grandma is seeing movies I’d never choose to see myself–and enjoying myself immensely.

The second day of celebrating Jesus’ birth was full of joy. Jesus’ love shared. Given and received.

It is my first Christmas in over two decades to have no priestly Christmas responsibility. It’s a whirlwind of change as I move to a brand new place (in every sense). The other night my grandson, Austin, read from his Bible the story of Abram and Sarai traveling from their familiar home to the home God had yet to show them. It feels like I am walking with them.

Instead of writing a sermon, I made Christmas cookies with the grandboys.

We went to church early afternoon, and I sang Silent Night with my candlelit family. As we walked out of worship, the world was wrapped in snow.

Christmas Eve was celebrated with my ex-husband and his family. I was warmly welcomed. That evening ended with singing happy birthday to baby Jesus.

All of the joy is underlaced with sadness. I missed walking up the farolita-lit walk to the Eve of the Incarnation at St. Mary’s. I missed the spiritual anchor of being immersed in the preparation and celebration of liturgy. I am on a new way.

On this morning of the Incarnation, my communion bread was cinnamon rolls made by my son. My grandson was the deacon as he read the Christmas gospel as our breakfast blessing. The congregation was my Bend family joined by their cat.

In the steps of the Wise Ones in Matthew’s Gospel, it is home by a different way. Filled with the love of Christ. Finding new ways to share that love.