That Old Woman

None of this is easy. Just keeping a focus for a day and week after is tricky. I wake up some mornings and am shocked another week has passed! Right now I am in disbelief that Lent is almost over and so is March. Not just "where did it go" but "how did it get away from me" comes to mind. A lot.
The house cleaning and packing, sorting and ALL of those things have begun in earnest. Thank goodness. I love packing a box, knowing it is going with me; part of my future. Some I pack by pitching things in saying "bye, bye" knowing it is my past to be sold or given away. Some goes in storage - to be given away after it is determined that Mt. Tabor is truly the place for me.
But so MUCH! Does everyone have 5 pairs of white trousers? 10 t-shirts to sleep in? I've decided that, in good shape or not, I'm NOT taking all this stuff with me! If I want to save some for the time when clothes wear out, I will pitch it in a storage box and find it in a couple of years to replenish my clothing line.
So, mixing it up, pitching it out, hanging on.
And reading a wonderful book before I fall asleep. I've found it reads best, then. Softly easing my mind and spirit into dreams to hang on too. The Cloud of Unknowing. I've read it before, but the translation was so rough, I honestly didn't finish it. This one is translated by Carmen Butcher and is lovely. And a dream-maker. Can not tell you how many things I've sorted out dreaming them to resolution, but I believe one can, and IF one can, if I can not remember all of them, the exact number is not known.
And so, the other night - the 22nd, actually. I was having somewhat of a pity party because although my Facebook friends were incredible, and a friend from church called me; nothing from my closest friends nor family. My mother didn't even call me. I didn't expect my sons to call, they haven't noted my birth for years. By late night, I had worked very hard at drawing myself down into the darkness of pity as much as I could. Made it just as rough as possible. Made it feel rough, because it WAS rough- so I decided it should feel that way. Even with that, I picked up The Cloud to ease myself into sleep.
She was an old woman. I could tell because she had long grey hair. Of course, I have long grey hair and I don't think of myself as being old, but I decided, she was. Old. She had on a dark blue shirt, a full skirt that came down below her knees. She sat in a straight-backed chair against a wall of windows. There was no carpet on the floor of the large room. Why we were there, I have no idea.
What she said, I have no memory. I do remember the topic. She was very confused. She was emotionally hurting and confused, not sure where she was and not sure where she was going. She felt very alone and didn't know exactly what to do. She wasn't panicked, but she wasn't happy, either. Why she talked to me about this, is a mystery. And I didn't have any magic words of advice for her. Who was I to talk with this old woman about these things? Anything I said would be platitudes.
I'd been squatting in front of her as she talked, and now got up and walked across the room. Someone I couldn't really see whispered to me, "You know she's dead, don't you?"
WHAT?
"She's dead and she doesn't know it."
Looking over my shoulder, the woman sure looked alive to me. I suddenly felt my heart open toward her, fill with words that made sense to me. You know how you feel stupid one moment and the next for reasons unknown to you, inspiration hits? I walked back to the woman and sat on the floor in front of her. Told her that she was loved and valued, just not here. That she needed to let go. And then I broke the news to her that she was dead.
I woke up, then. So, I have no idea how the old woman took the news that she was dead! I stayed in bed a few extra minutes going over this dream, marveling at its detail and also how these things are always filled with the strangest things. Then it was off to start my routine for the day.
It was when I stepped out of the bathroom into my bedroom that it came to me. I was the old woman. My life here was over. I was dead to it, in a way - and yet, my confusion came by my remaining where I no longer belonged. My new life waits for me - where I will be loved and valued. Thank goodness for that old woman visiting me in my dreams. How fascinating to have yourself come to help you in times of need.