My last blog post was in November.  This is affirmation of the intensity of the distraction associated with preparations for moving including the packing, the ensuing journey from California to Texas, and finally the unpacking and settling into my new home.  At long last I feel all the disparate facets of my life coming together again.  I’m grateful.

I’m grateful because I find it challenging when my sacred space is in disarray.  One of the first things I had to do when the movers drove away was begin the search for the box containing my touchstones, prayer books, candles, and icons.  It took several days of searching the mountain of boxes to locate what I had so carefully packed.

I felt a sense of coming home, of relief, and return to my center when I was able to unpack and arrange my sacred space in a small corner of my office in the new house.  Now I once again have my prayer corner to retreat to in the early morning.  This is my hearth, my sanctuary, my foundational cornerstone for each day.

A lesson came with my anxiety of feeling displaced and uprooted in the midst of moving, when I was living in the “in between” of my California life and the new chapter awaiting in Texas.  Feeling disoriented and buffeted by the winds of transition and change is something that happens to most of us.

During my recent time of upheaval, I recalled something I once read that I have shared in other posts and articles over the years. Several years ago I was gifted a set of books called The City of God, the author of this 4 volume series was 17th century nun…Sister Mary of Agreda, Spain.  In Volume II, The Incarnation, she tells us about Mary, the soon to be mother of Jesus, and her journey while pregnant to visit her cousin, Elisabeth, for counsel.  She intimates that Mary was fearful about leaving her familiar surroundings, her sacred space, to venture out on her pilgrimage over the hills to Elisabeth’s door. The nun offers us this illumination to contemplate…

And as in all places She acted the part of a pilgrim on earth and of an inhabitant of heaven, and as She herself was the intellectual and most glorious heaven, the living temple, in which God had made habitation; so She also carried with Her her own oratory and sanctuary and in this respect there was for Her no difference between her own house and that of her cousin Saint Elisabeth, nor could any other place, time or occupation be a hindrance to Her in this regard.

The young girl, Mary, who would soon give birth to Jesus moved through her fears and trepidation and the perceived notion that her sacred space was a physical place, her hometown, her dwelling, her family home.  According to Sister Mary’s telling of the story… Mary carried her oratory and sanctuary within her… no matter where she traveled, God was with her in body and soul.

In my time of uprootedness and disarray, I felt an attachment to the physical accoutrements of my spiritual life…. icons, books, and other sacred objects.  Remembering the long ago writings of the Spanish nun, I am reminded to recall my oratory and sanctuary within…  the Spirit, Love, and Peace that is God’s presence.  I am reminded that no matter where I find myself on life’s journey, no matter how separated I may be from my little prayer corner and my touchstones… I am never alone or separated from the Sacred. The material world offers beauty to behold that will one day fade and crumble. But the soul offers that which is eternally present through all the transitions of this life and the ultimate transition that will come to us all.

The holiday season is beginning and for most of us this time of year invites the opportunity to add festive touches and decorations to the nooks and crannies around the house.  This holiday season is different for me.  I’m in the process of sorting, sifting, and packing for a move in February, from our current home in California to a new home in Texas.

Anyone who has recently transported all their earthly belongings from place to place no doubt appreciates the upheaval that moving a household entails.  The process of touching every item with discernment…. Does it go with me? Is it meant to be passed along to someone else? or Is it time for this thing to go to the trash bin?

While I’ve been carefully sorting and packing I’ve thinking a lot about the meaning of the words, hearth and home.  The word Hearth holds Heart.  The hearth of my home (beyond the little hearth by the fire) is the kitchen.  This is where everyone gathers, where we come to create nourishment, bake and break bread, and share nature’s bounty with our stories of the day.  The kitchen is the heart of our home where the pulse of life is palpable. Home is the sheltering container for the hearth and for the spaces that provide comfort, safety, and rest.

As I prepare to move I’m dismantling the sacred spaces of our home which will soon once again become a house until the new owners arrive to fill it with their spirits, stories, and daily living to make it their home.  Houses need people to nourish the soul of the home into being.

The heartbeat of these stucco walls is syncopated with the rhythm of our days and nights.  Our California home has been a canvas of colors and character unique to this little abode with it’s 30 year old bougainvilla that blooms every June, the hairline cracks in many of the tiles on the floor… caused by the earth tremors we have experienced through the 15 years we’ve lived here, the big black gas stove that warms the kitchen, and the tree out front that I swear has a face. Most of all it’s full of the love that has come through the door in all manner of friend, beloved, and the stranger… the angels that blessed us all.

I will miss this place.  I’m beginning to think in terms of “lasts.”  This will be the last Thanksgiving here, the last Christmas, etc. Thankfully, I love the new house in Texas.  Over time it will find it’s own heart beat and there we’ll discover a new hearth and home.  There are firsts to look forward to….. the first meal around the table, the first family celebration, the first Thanksgiving….

Ahhhh. Thanksgiving.  As I give thanks this holiday I thank God for the luxury of having a home, a roof above our heads, a warm bed and full belly.  I give thanks and pray for all those without… what I so often take for granted….. hearth and home.