Comin' On Moon

 
Sometimes it’s possible for two things to be happening at the same time. Perhaps it’s more accurate to say that – most times – two or more things are happening at the same time.
 
My years of seminary were some of my favorites of my life. It was the people and the conversations that jostled and nudged, that reshaped and restored me. My faculty advisor at Candler was Bill Mallard and he continues in my heart and conversations still. Dr. Mallard was a true Virginian gentle man. There was a compassionate strength about him, that time and again brought me faith and hope and love.
 
Nearing the end of his life, his lifelong best friend died. I’d heard about his loss and reached out to him. I said something like, “I’ve been wanting to see if I could be a Spiritual Director, and thought I’d try out my Spiritual Directing with you.” “Sure,” he said, and we made a date. He and his beloved, Gatra had recently moved into a great retirement place. When I got to his apartment, he said, “Let’s go outside,” so we took off meandering down the hallways to get to the courtyard. He was on a walker, but marching (of course, because it kept him looking up) and singing “Onward Christian Soldiers” (of course, because it was a marching song). I’m sure the two of us were a sight. We’d gotten to the double doors, walked outside, heard the doors shut, when Bill said, “Did you happen to bring the key?” “No,” I replied laughing and shaking my head. And then he said something so Mallard, “Good, this will be our first lesson in Spiritual Direction 101: asking for help.” So, we found a bench and sat. We talked about life and grief and baseball and music…and he continued companioning me, ever my teacher and friend. [Editor’s note – you probably figured it out that evidentially we asked someone passing by to help us back in.]
 
Over the twenty-five years I knew him, one of Dr. Mallard’s highest compliments was to say, “Lesley, you’re comin’ on.” It showed I hadn’t yet reached perfection, but that I wasn’t stuck somewhere. In his beautiful southern baritone, he was reminding me that I was going toward something.
 
Back to the notion of two things happening at once. Nature is reminding us that we can be about both/and. The truth is that our December nights continue to be longer and feel so much darker. In so many ways, our spirits are feeling darkness growing all around. AND we are now under the waxing moon. Little by little, step by step we are able to see more and more light coming on, as my friend Mallard would say. This light isn’t like turning on a switch while entering a dark room. It’s the kind of light that invites us to sit and wait. The kind of light that counts on our eyes adjusting, in time with our hearts to what’s around us. `Coming on’ takes time. It takes heart. Often it takes a good sense of humor and extra room for grace. But the light is there. It may have grown dim, but it’s never left us. Just like my lessons from Bill, I know where to find them, smack dab in the middle of my heart.  
 
Thank you, Sam for this picture
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