Friday, April 21, 2023

Marking Sabbatical Time

The cemetery at the Carlisle Residential Indian Boarding School

Today marks eleven days since beginning my three-month sabbatical. More than 10% done. 

On the third day, as I was driving through the glorious western byways of the state of Virginia with the redbud showing off in brilliant form, it occurred to me that I should document this sabbatical journey on a regular basis. Not just the highlights and summaries--the obvious stuff--but the smaller moments that help me be fully present to the moment I am experiencing. With this post I move from intention to action.

A few reflections...

Spring is a glorious season, and driving in areas abundant with blooms is a delightful way to enjoy it. The aforementioned redbud are evidence of that. I wanted desperately to capture on camera the profusion of color punctuating the brown-gray landscape that was beginning to come to life, but highway and byway shots are a challenge. I had a destination to reach, and limited daylight, so venturing off the beaten path wasn't really an option. I tried, instead, to grab hold of those sightings in my memory. This tends to work for me. I can still recall the glorious dogwood blooms of the spring of my senior year in high school as I traveled a familiar road. And I can remember sheep peering through an iron gate as we passed an estate in Ireland. This will suffice as long as my memory serves! But should the day come when memories are hard to reach, I won't know what I'm missing, so I suppose that's okay.

The light at the end of the day. I see fading daylight everyday, but the angle of light is distinctive in each place it touches at different times of the year. The angle of light on my travels south evoked memories of Melrose light. This is the time of year we would make our annual pilgrimage during our school's spring break, so I associate this light with those memories. Such nostalgia! And now, of course, without Melrose to go to, such sadness and grief. Yes, still. Blessedly, the joy and love associated with that place and all that it means to me is the overriding emotion and impression,

Landscape. Landscape is a thing for me--I love the troughs and ridges that are the identity of the Appalachian, Blue Ridge, and Smoky Mountains. I love the shadows and the variation of color that decorate the slopes and fields. I love the rivers and creeks, the cows and the sheep, and all the things that help me be mindful of the diversity of our planet, our vocations, our histories, and our stories. As I drive I scoop up impressions and deposit them in a bucket of thought that inspires imagination and gratitude. 

I am so fortunate to have this opportunity to explore, to visit, to remember, and to learn. It is all a blessing that I do not take for granted, and to which I hope I can do justice as I process and share it. 

I will try not to overwhelm these pages with photos. The one I am including here is from the first stop I made as I headed south at the former Residential Indian Boarding School in Carlisle, PA. That's a post for another day, but the pictures I took on that stop are the first of my sabbatical. More on that later.

Until next time...

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