In the last few days, I have been clearing out my home office. I have lever-arch files full of resources I haven't looked at in years and enough half-used tea lights to hold a number of Taize services. A clear out is well overdue! This has been spurred on by the fact that I am commencing a new position today. Today marks the transition from working for the Uniting Church in Western Australia to beginning my role as Director of Pastoral Theology and Ministry Studies with Uniting College for Leadership and Theology in Adelaide. My home office will be getting a lot of use in between trips to Adelaide and I need it to be uncluttered and have space for new books related to the topics I will be teaching.
As I have been sifting through the many files I have become aware of the many things I have held on to - not only physically but also emotionally and spiritually. I have been surprised at how easily I have let go of years of orders of service, sermons, liturgies, notes from workshops, thank you cards - the list goes on. As expected, there has been the occasional item that I have decided is worthy of keeping and some of the material is on my computer. However, there is something about this transition that has brought out the ruthless declutterer in me.
Although my choice of "clearing" as my word for 2026 is related to these two physical acts, there is a deeper more profound reason for my choice. Early last year, my supervisor gifted me a poem during one of our sessions. I say gifted because it remained with me throughout the year and continues to speak in profound ways despite its brevity.
Clearing
by Martha Postlethwaite
Do not try to save
the whole world
or do anything grandiose.
Instead, create
a clearing
in the dense forest
of your life
and wait there
patiently,
until the song
that is yours alone to sing
falls into your open cupped hands
and you recognize and greet it.
Only then will you know
how to give yourself
to this world,
so worthy of love.
The first three lines speak into my obsessive need to do, achieve, try the next new thing. The rest of the poem speaks of my desire for my life - to be more open, more patient, more attentive, more discerning. I particularly love the image of the song that is mine alone to sing falling into my open cupped hands. That is not going to happen as I rush from one thing to another. My desire in my new role, which I also expressed to the interviewing panel, is to have more space to go deeper - a deepening in relationships, a deepening in knowledge and research, a deepening in my own relationship with God, a deepening in my contemplative life of being present and attentive.
In the last couple of years I have been attempting to do this amongst the busyness of my roles. I have been trying to do build this "home" without clearing any trees. I have been trying to "work in an office" cluttered with things from the past. I now have an opportunity, as I commence a new role, to be intentional about how I want to live my life. I am fully aware this won't just happen with the flick of a switch. I have been working with my spiritual director and supervisor on this for the last six months. I am determined and I am nervous. It is all too easy to slip back into well worn patterns of seeking value and affirmation. And, just like the clearing of our block and my office, the clearing will undoubtedly be accompanied by some grief for the things I want to continue grasping.
2026 will be the year to create a clearing in the dense forest of my life. I know what I need to do and must face the resistance. For those close to me, hold me accountable in my clearing and help me not to be too eager to fill the space. May 2026 be a year when we witness each others songs falling into our open cupped hands.

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