I have set aside a little time tonight for some low-level wallowing. I just recently cut off a short-lived, almost-but-not-quite relationship with one of the finest fellows I have ever met. It was necessary, but necessary doesn't keep the melancholy away. So tonight I shall be wearing a shirt that smells like him and drinking the last remaining bottle of the root beers he cleverly procured for me—the special brand that's only available in my hometown. And during this time, I will reflect somewhat gloomily upon the sad truth that sometimes things don't work, even when someone only wants to love you in all the best possible ways.

If the men in my family were here to see me penciling melancholy reflection in for 10 p.m., they would be baffled, but not surprised. I have a reputation in my family for this sort of thing . . . for seeking out the emotions deep within me and dragging them to the surface so I can see them more clearly and feel them more acutely. I myself had always chalked this up to Drama Queenism, until my rollercoaster teen years rolled away and I found that—even in my more balanced adult years—I am still prone to scheduled emotional examination. And now I finally see myself for what I truly am: a Ritual Junkie.

In the Lutheran Church, adolescents go through Confirmation, which is a period of spiritual study followed by a public profession of our faith. Confirmation is a young Lutheran's opportunity to examine what her faith means, consider where it has taken her, and finally confirm who she is because of it by publicly taking vows. Confirmation Day marks a spiritual coming of age.

This is how I see my life: a series of Confirmations. Each new experience is a new opportunity to examine who I am, to honor God's presence in my life, to confirm that I am committed to my path. And each new Confirmation calls for a ritual that gives me no choice but to look upon these new experiences with reverence . . . a ceremony that reminds me to see God standing beside me.

This is why I need to wear an oversized t-shirt and drink root beer tonight. So I can notice where I am. So I can confirm both my understanding and my confusion. And so I can bring myself back to the center, where I will see God sitting beside me, guiding me through this and on to the next true thing.

 

Ritual

First, I will clear the space that surrounds us.
I set aside the clutter of my day
so the chaos does not obstruct my view of You.

Then, I will clear myself.
I breathe out the weight of my ego
so my heart is opened to you.

Then, I will open my eyes.
I find you at my side,
waiting for my frantic mind to settle finally on You.

Now we meet,
joined in the sacred ceremony of our routine,
in the quiet motions that tell my wild heart
it's time to be still . . .
in this moment I am with You
and nowhere else.

-Abigail Wurdeman