an old man

I have a night off. I usually work Monday nights, but here in the middle between Christmas and New Year's, there are no classes. So here I sit with a glass of wine, some candles burning, two books to choose from, and three or four notebooks (and a variety of pens!) within arm's reach. I even have a blanket and two dogs.
It's been an interesting week. I have an appointment with my therapist tomorrow, so I am doing my bi-weekly barometer check to determine if there is anything particularly pressing to talk about. And to review how much of his advice I've followed, considered, or ignored.
And what I keep coming back to is Simeon. Somehow growing up I completely missed anything about him - and Anna - in Bible stories and in church. Somewhere along the line, I had the impression of him as kind of a weird old guy hanging around the temple. I imagined Mary and Joseph being really uncomfortable when approached by Simeon and Anna. I imagined them being rather possessive of their newborn, and having to be polite while these people took their son, passed him around, and said rather scary things.
Simeon had faith. Deep faith in a promise he knew came to him from God himself. For most of my life, I have feared anyone with faith that deep. Heck - people with faith half or a quarter as deep! All those times I missed his story, i really was avoiding him. Sidestepping him like I would anyone who might try to tell me something about any faith or religion. I don't know all the reasons for that fear, that discomfort. I'm very conscious of the fact that I may resemble one of those people I would avoid, and I sometimes check my words, my actions, even my thoughts, accordingly.
And I feel lousy about it.
At one time, not terribly long ago, I saw Simeon as this guy who hung around the temple wanting to just die already. In my mind, shaped as it was (we're working on it), so much had been categorized as "good" or "bad." "Dead" fell in the "bad" category, as did fear, anger, even frustration. And doubt. Praying for courage helped me find Simeon in another place in my soul.
When the boys were small, just about the only thing I ever prayed for was patience. It took a real long while of coming just short of screaming at God that if he didn't hurry up with the patience I was going to go through the roof for me to realize that I was being given opportunities to practice patience, to hone the skill. I quit asking when I drew the conclusion that asking for patience meant that I'd have more in my life to make me impatient. And yet, when I was told "Pray for courage," I dove right in without considering where that might take me. It took a while before I recognized that I was remembering things I'd been afraid of, seeing them from different directions, opening doors into dark spaces in my heart. Last week, it occurred to me that the fear was what I was looking for - not the things that made me afraid. The fear itself was the gift. And I was less afraid. The fear is not "bad," it just is.
Simeon became a man with a dream, a goal, and a purpose. I have a unique purpose, just like Simeon. After Simeon held that newborn child, he knew his life was complete, that there was nothing else that could ever top that moment. He felt. And that's what had always made me uncomfortable - feeling; deeply and profoundly feeling anything - the "good" and the "bad." For me feeling always connected to judgement.
We're working on it.