The things I’m missing amuse me.

It’s interesting the things I catch myself missing while we’re displaced. Earlier I intensely missed falling asleep to the smell of incense, having just finished the State Rite. I missed the comfort of ritual. I missed scheduling my life so that I get to shrine – something I thought impossible to miss!

It’s the little things. Soon we will be back home, and the shrine will reopen – with flowers and offerings and much celebration. 🙂 Ever the optimist, I am!

Bereft.

The other night I laid down to go to sleep, and a gaping hole of loss opened up inside of me. The house, my way of life – it’s gone. Normal will change forever; as part of this process, the entire structure of my house is being raised 10 feet. So even the parts that weren’t damaged will have a different view, a different feel.

My ability to go before the gods is gone, too, even if temporarily. I can do Senut, sure – but I am deeply missing the work of the priesthood. It is satisfying work, work that fulfills, work that feeds a part of me that I can barely even sense when I am not engaged in it. Even Senut is dicey, with housekeeping staff in and out of the room, sickness settling in due to cramped quarters, and the restrictions on candles and incense as if I were back in the dorms.

What can I do? I can wait. In time, the house will be finished; we will have the ability to go back and start putting the pieces back together. The journey has been troubling – we have been blocked at what feels like every turn by politics, poor communication, policies changing last minute… we have been on a merry-go-round of paperwork. I pray, with all my heart, that this change will usher in more stability in my life.

And… I can acknowledge the gods in my own small ways: seeing the sunrise, singing in the car, teaching a child, loving a friend.

Aftermath.

It dawns on me that I haven’t spent formal time in my own shrine since October. The storm took so much from me and my family; the fallout extends far beyond just damages to the structure we inhabit. We fight every day to gain the right to repair and rebuild the house. We fight every day to prove we deserve our insurance money, that we aren’t committing fraud.

The storm has given me a few things, too, though I am still sorting out what they are. Endurance, I think, and sturdiness. It is not lost on me that, following Ptah’s year, the literal foundation of my home was ripped away and needs to be raised and repaired.

I see the hands of many gods in my life these days, but I can’t seem to bring myself to reach out and touch Them.