Emotions

Last weekend I preached at my home church, that is seminary speak for the church that I grew up in, which is also the church that has endorsed me through this school and ordination process. I was so excited to preach at home. I was also really nervous,  it would be the first time my mentor of nearly 14 years would hear me preach. I knew with out a doubt that he would give me honest and constructive feed back, if it went well no worries, if it went poorly I worried I would be a terrible disappointment. Even with some of my family present, my mentor was the only person I was nervous about. It went well better than I imagined it would.

There were several things though that I didn't expect. As our time of worship began the thought occurred to me that the next time I worship in this place will likely be my ordination. I sat with that in the quiet empty church after worship for awhile. This is the church that welcomed me at 15 when I didn't know what church was. This is where I was confirmed, ordained a ruling elder, married, prayed for, commissioned, where our daughter was baptized, this is home. I learned to be a church leader and a teacher here. I sat in the quiet I shed a few tears. As I enter in to this time of transition, it seems many moments are becoming bitter sweet. These tears were relief that this process is nearly over and the nervousness about what comes next. They were happy but unexpected tears. 

During worship something else happened, toward the end of my sermon, something I can only call the Spirit came over me. Later my mentor asked me about the energy in the end of the sermon, it was only then that I realized it was evident to other people. This was my first preaching experience where I was aware of the Spirit moving in me as I was preaching, it is hard to describe, but it was certainly full of life giving energy.

I still wasn't done with the unexpected emotions. My Aunt came that morning to hear me preach, my dad's sister. She has been incredibly supportive and encouraging as I have taken on seminary, something I find myself regularly grateful for. It was great to look out and see her as we worshiped. After church she told me how proud of me she was and motioned that she had to wipe away a tear during the sermon. Now as an aunt myself I get being proud of your niece or nephew.  She has always been as supportive as possible and shows up when ever she can. On this day though it was something more for me. Most of my readers know my dad passed away after a long illness in my late teens, he had been sick most of my life. As I processed all that had happened that morning as we rode home, I realized  I was gifted with what I can only call a place holder. She was standing where her brother could not, she was proud for both of them, her affirmation for me was the closest thing that I will ever have to affirmation from my Dad. Perhaps I understand this differently now because after the sudden passing of my sister in law, I find myself trying to be at the important events in the lives of my niece and nephew, to show extra support for them as the navigate this messy life. I cannot replace the presence of their mother but I can hold the holy space that is for their mother. When you loose a parent at a fairly young age, you get used to not having them there for the big life events like graduations, weddings, the birth of children. These places though also open us up to the tender wonder, what would my dad think? Would he be proud? So in this tender moment, I am happy to accept the closest thing I have to his voice, his sister's affirmation. 

While we are on the topic of place holders, I am forever grateful for my mentor, who has consistently been willing to hold the dad space for me. I don't think he became my mentor because he thought I needed a dad but he hasn't been afraid to help me work through some of those dad issues that come up. All I will say is that we shared tender moments where I was able to see for the first time what holy work it is to hold the place for one who can't be there. When your mentor beams with pride there isn't much more you need in the world. 

Today I am grateful for the people in my life who have taken on the holy work of being a place holder for my dad. Who have through their commitment to me have allowed me to hear his voice, know his love, and continue to grow. May you be blessed with such love and support from the place holders in your life.

My Health Care Secret

Maybe my title should say "and other little secrets" that I am about to make public. Recently many of my colleagues participated in the "SNAP challenge" where they would live on the allotted amount of money a food stamp recipient or their family would receive. I did not participate, mainly because we lived on foodstamps when we first moved here. Our meager savings depleted quickly, we moved during the "end" of the economic down turn, it was difficult for my husband to find full time work that actually offered full time hours each week. He was sent home early more often than not.I have been taught by my culture that being on food stamps is shameful, for losers who want a free ride. Let me say clearly, I have never believed that. I believe that food stamps and other public assistance programs are needed in any culture.  Then there I was in line at the food store with my food stamp card. Most of the time they kept it discrete but not always, "I need help with food stamps over here" has been yelled across the check out lanes when my little card had an issue. I was so ashamed that we needed food stamps, I didn't talk about it, except with a select few people who I deemed safe. Our time using food stamps was just a few months, eventually the hubs found full time work, and we were able to buy food.

Then the health care problem arose. While we were doing much better financially we had to find a way to get health care. Sounds simple right? Wrong. To be a full time student, I must carry at least minimal health coverage. We have a child, I have a family history, I know it is not wise to go uncovered. So, we have found ways in which to get coverage. Coverage offered by my husband's employer is not affordable, it would take half his pay check each month. Buying coverage on our own, also out of the question, he has a preexisting condition, I have one that some count as such. Either way we were risky which made our premiums through the roof. We settled on the student insurance offered through our denomination. Last year we paid $700 a month for coverage that didn't really kick in until we met our high deductibles, so even though we were paying $700 a month, any illness meant that we were facing bills. And where on earth does a student come up with that kind of money every month? Well, I had to take student loans, I will be paying for that insurance for a very long time. Again we know the wisdom or the lack there of in taking on this sort of debt. We simply could not afford insurance and rent with one pay check. I was too far in to quit and if I dropped to half time so I could work and study I would loose my financial aid and our childcare costs would double. It was a rock and a hard place. Then the notice came our premiums would be going up to $805 a month. There was no wiggle room in the budget, panicked we researched options. We still couldn't afford comparable coverage through an employer.

What were we going to do? I found our state's healthcare website for the Affordable Care Act. We will not refer to this as Obamacare on this blog, because it takes the very important, affordable out of the name, something I believe was strategic. I learned that we were at the very least eligible for assistance. I signed up early and fell victim to a computer glitch. One that took me hours to undo and got us coverage just under the wire for 2014. I do not blame the President or a political party for this glitch. I doubt that either was personally responsible for programing software. It turns out our daughter is eligible for free healthcare through the state. The hubs and I are eligible for discounted insurance. I tried to pay for my daughter because it is simply easier to all be on the same plan but it doesn't work like that, so for now we have two different plans. It took some work on my part ... but lets just say this year our insurance will cost less than our rent and utilities combined, which we couldn't say about 2013.

We narrowly avoided a healthcare disaster at the end of 2013. Our kiddo broke her arm, badly. It required two different ERs, a two night hospital stay, surgery, pins, stitches, a cast, slings, a "magic mitten" for showering. Our insurance premium was late (so irresponsible, right?)because if we had paid it we wouldn't have been able to feed said kiddo. Things had gotten tight a few months earlier when I paid tuition thinking that I had a reimbursement coming, that actually wasn't.  Luckily we got the payment in two days after the injury and it was covered. We had to basically empty our bank accounts to pay it and survive the month. Now we will recover from this, but I can easily see how one broken arm could bankrupt a family.I haven't even mentioned the time I would have had to have taken off of work had I not been a student. Do you see how quickly this cycle could swallow a family that was just barely making it?

We have benefited greatly from the new health care. We have been strong believers in health care for all people, especially children. While I certainly think there are flaws in the Affordable Care Act, I think it is a step in the right direction. Here's the thing though, I haven't told many people about how we have benefited. Even though I might have cried a little when I saw how much money we would be saving, and that feeding our kid healthy food might not be so much of a challenge in the coming months. It feels a lot like another dirty little secret. I do not think social media is the place to push our political agendas, our belief systems, in little snippets and conversation that allows for us to cowardly hide behind our screens. I wonder if this blog post is any different. This week though I have been pushed over the edge, too many people have posted about those benefiting from health care, are getting a free ride they don't deserve. Let me say, this is not a response to a single post, article, or blog, but rather a response to a group of voices. 

Here's the thing, I don't feel like my husband and I are lazy people taking a free ride on the backs of our hard working friends. Risking sounding like I am completely self absorbed, I am kind of a highly driven person, I have to be to do what I do. Maybe you feel differently about us, if so then perhaps we weren't friends at all. If you say oh no but you are different, I want to challenge you on that. Are we really? The only thing that I see that makes us different is that we, in theory, will have a chance to raise our income when I finish school. Our "poverty" is because of my education. We do not live in poverty, we know that, I want to make that clear. I understand though that for those who do live in poverty it is an endless cycle, it isn't about being strong enough to pick yourself up and better yourself. Issues of poverty are not black and white, cut and dry. They are complex, no two situations are the same. I spend some of my internship working in a food pantry in a low income neighborhood, I do so humbly, knowing that one missed pay check, would change which side of the counter I stand on.

There you have it, our little health care secret. We are the free loaders clinging to your hard working back. We are the people who didn't go to the doctor before when we should have because we couldn't afford our co pays, so essentially we are the ones that are going to be making it harder to see your doctor. Sorry about that waiting. Thanks for the free ride. Don't worry, in a few years when we have two incomes and I am paying for all that health insurance in loan payments, and my taxes are higher than I have ever seen, I won't be complaining. I will happily pay taxes toward health care coverage because no one's first thought when they see their little girl screaming in pain as her arm flops about, should be "Oh God, the insurance is late, how are we going to afford this?" It wasn't my best moment, but it happened people, we didn't delay getting her care, we took her in minutes to the ER, not knowing how we would pay for it. Luckily it has worked out.

Remember, I am not earning these degrees so that I can get personal gain, I know I likely will not be a millionaire. I am gaining this crazy education so I can serve people. If my tax dollars help pay for someone else's broken arm, cancer, check up, I am OK with that. My tax dollars paying for war is another story and another post.

Today I am grateful for health coverage that isn't putting me in debt, for the privilege of pursuing higher education, and the platform to express my views.

Santa.

I read parenting blogs from time to time. I shouldn't because they just make me mad. I am not angry that parents want to share their opinions, heck I do that too. I am angry because no matter what blog you read there is only one right way to raise a kid, the way this particular parent is doing it. I don't believe that's true, I think there are many "right" ways to raise a kid. Mostly it has to do with the decisions you make for your family, are they healthy, do they work for you? If so great, if not well you can always make new decisions, I know we have to reevaluate from time to time.

I am not setting out to write another blog post justifying why I am right in my (our) parenting choices. I fear that may be exactly what I do. Christmas time is upon us, we call it Advent in the church. It's only December 3 and the posts for and against the Elf on a Shelf have popped up, followed by the ones about Santa. They kind of make my skin crawl, how can these Christmas traditions be SO polarizing?

First I will come clean, Santa comes to our house, last year Garfleshnickle the elf joined us for the month of December. I am well on my way to being an ordained teaching elder, so you guessed it, we talk a whole lot about Jesus too. You should also know that I grew up with Santa, so did my husband. I'm in seminary, so clearly Jesus is still important to me. My hubby may not be in seminary but I assure you he follows Jesus.

Christmas morning was magical in my house as a child. The glittering tree lights, the anticipation of what would be in the wrapped packages, and cookies were allowed for breakfast. It was also one of those special days for us when we didn't think about anyone being sick, we were just a family. We weren't a family with a pediatric cancer patient, we weren't a family with a terminally ill dad or Pop Pop (grandpa), we weren't a family eating government surplus peanut butter; no on Christmas morning the worrying took a back seat. For that one day, we were kids, there was hope in the midst of those less than ideal circumstances. The first year my father was sick, folks from his work showed up with huge bags of presents so that on Christmas morning my mom would have something to give us. I learned so much about the spirit of St. Nicholas that year. Santa Clause is more than just a guy in a red suit who employs elves and flying reindeer. There is something about that moment, that day, that has stuck with me, that has made Santa forever "real" to me. I see in the Santa story a narrative about generosity, the depth of goodness in people, and the change one person can make in the life of another.

Thus far, our daughter hasn't had to eat surplus peanut butter, no one in her life is terminally ill, and since she doesn't have a sibling we aren't living with a pediatric cancer patient. Then again all those things were true for me at 4 years old too, but by 7 my story changed. I want her to experience the wonder, the magic, the anticipation, while she is little. I know I only get a few years of her being this open to it, 5 years from now the world will have started to teach her to question things, to appreciate the "real" things and brush off childish things.  Remembering those Christmas celebrations, gave me hope in the darkest days, that things would be OK. Even now I remember them with great joy, I tear up remembering my dad's coworkers showing up with the presents because now as a mom, I can understand what that must have felt like to my mom. Perhaps relief, perhaps joy, or perhaps love. I don't know what beliefs were held by my dad's coworkers, but looking back, those bags seem a whole lot like an expression of God's love, or perhaps love for the neighbor.

So I am not worried about Santa and Jesus coexisting in our house. I am not worried about the day when little L figures out that Santa is more about a spirit of giving than a man in a red suit. I am not worried about her never trusting what we say again, actually I hope at some point she questions everything we have ever told her because it means she is learning to think critically for herself. (I know I will regret that statement in about 10 years.) I am not worried about her not understanding the "true meaning of Christmas", she has that birth narrative down. I will spare you all of my thoughts about how Santa actually can be a tool to explain the anticipation and hope of Advent.

Here is what I am asking of you, if you don't "do" Santa in your house, could you try hard not to spill the beans to my kid? We only get to experience this excitement and wonder for a few short years. I won't try to convince your child Santa is real, you don't tell mine he isn't, fair enough? Both beliefs are OK and we can live together with both.

Now, for what I am worried about. No matter who your family's presents come from on Christmas morning, parents or Santa, there is something that is bothering me. The toys, the clothes, the electronics, it doesn't matter if you have the 1 gift limit or if your tree is barely visible from the stacks of presents surrounding it. All Advent we will anticipate the coming of a savior, a savior who breaks free the chains of bondage, a savior who brings peace, a savior who brings hope for a better world, a savior who will call us to love with God's love. We will celebrate the birth with gifts that represent God's gift to us. The problem lies in the oppression and unjust treatment of the people who have made our gifts. How can we celebrate Jesus birth with piles of things that were likely made by people who are subject to unjust labor practices? Is there a child somewhere that is suffering, so that on Christmas morning my beloved child can have a new toy? My stomach turns at the answer, because I know that likely the answer is yes. Is it just that children around the world will go hungry on Christmas day, while my kid gets to play with her brand new toys, wearing her brand new clothes, her well fed belly in our warm home? It is not just.

I am guilty of contributing to this injustice.

This Advent, this Christmas, I will not wrestle with the idea of Santa Clause or the Elf on the Shelf. I will wrestle with how we can work as a family, as a church, as a society, to make Christmas day and everyday one that brings justice to the way in which we consume. Know this is a deep struggle for me, I just told you about the joy of Christmas morning. I have to find a way to teach my child about the injustice in the world while preserving her innocence. The damage is done for this year, my shopping is nearing completion, Christmas morning will be just like it always has. How do I change that next year? Can I preserve the magic and seek justice? There are no easy answers and I suspect I will wrestle with this for a long time.

Today I am grateful for the space to process this. I am grateful for my healthy little girl. I am grateful for my dad's coworkers who showed us God's love over 25 years ago. 

May you be blessed this Christmas with a little magic and a heart that seeks justice. 

I Can't Just Cry Anymore

On December 14, 2012, it was my nephew's birthday. I was done with the Fall semester and L and I were out running some Christmas errands. I was happy almost giddy, buying gifts, the semester's pressure behind me. Between stops I heard a blip on the radio about Newtown. We went into Barnes and Noble and as L played at a toy on display I stood behind her and looked up what happened on my phone. Standing there in public I began to cry, I started to feel unsafe. I drove us home and waited for L to go to bed and then watched the news. I won 't expose her to it, not yet, I want to teach her all the beautiful things of the world first, so when she sees the overwhelming pain of the world she can know that there is hope and beauty to be found in the same world.  I cried for days and then I slowly resumed my normal life.

Before that I watched super storm Sandy rip up my home town from 700 miles away and after I watch the horror of the Boston marathon bombing. I watch and I cry and I write and I pray. Then Saturday I heard the verdict, well read it on Facebook. I hadn't followed the Trayvon Martin case closely. I remembered the outrage I felt when Trayvon was killed. I remember watching it all unfold and I remember the lump in my throat that comes every time injustice rears its miserable, life sucking, ugly ass head. It was the same lump that came late Saturday night and again Sunday morning.

This week I have the great privilege of being at the Samuel Proctor Institute at the Children's Defence Fund's Haley Farm. Let me tell you there is no better place to be the days after such a heart breaking verdict. This week I am sharing life not only with amazing classmates and a favorite seminary professor, I am learning from Ottis Moss Jr, Jim Lawson, Marian Wright Edelman. These are the people that Martin Luther King Jr was changing the world with. MLK has always been inspiring and essentially I somehow have found myself hanging out with his friends the day after the law, the courts failed a black boy who was shot dead. Let us take comfort in the humanness of the law and knowing that the human word will never be the last word.

I am not here by accident, God brought me here. I don't say that lightly, God brought me here. God brought me here so I could be reminded I have a loud and passionate voice, that needs to do more than just cry itself to sleep after each tragedy, each injustice, each natural disaster. God created me with a deep love of children. God created me with a heart for equality, especially in education and opportunities for education. God allowed me to have empathy for the poor, the suffering. God has called me to ministry, likely with children. God gave me a thirst for justice. God let all my little worlds collide right here in TN.

As I sat listening today, I had enough, I had enough of just crying, weeping, wailing, for our children.  I can not longer respond only with tears and prayers. It's time to take action. It's time to raise this voice that God gave me. So what am I going to do? I have no idea, I just know that the God who created me, the God who brought me here, is moving in me and I am taking notice. I am noticing the radical gospel is the only gospel that speaks to me.

Today I am grateful for these tender days, for finding my voice, for the law not being the end all be all.

July 13, 2013

The day that I realized the civil rights movement isn't over. I'm embarrassed it took me this long. I cried. I cried because a young boy is dead. I cried because there is no comfort for his mother. My heart broke for my friends who have black children. Last night they didn't go to sleep feeling like their kids could be safe. They went to bed with the reality that their child could be targeted for the color of their skin, something not one of us has chosen. I realized that there is even more injustice in the world than I recognized. I learned that I too have been blind to my own privilege.

Let those of us with a voices that gets default privilege use those voices to fight, to change, to bring God's dream for the world to a reality.

Moms, Moms-to-be, Babies and Bodies

Is it just me, or are we in a season of pregnancy? It seems I can't sign into a social media site with out a pregnancy announcement. One day about 3 weeks ago, there were 3 in the same day. Both near and far it seems like fertility is in the air and pregnant bellies are popping up all over the place. Perhaps part of it is that I am noticing it more because Paul and I have reached a point where we would both like a second child. Paul was ready for another shortly after L was born, I wasn't so convinced that I wanted to go through delivery again, her birth was, lets just say traumatic. It took me a long time to become OK with having another biological child, I swore for years that any more would be adopted.

If you have been following along here for awhile you know that it isn't easy for me to conceive a child and if I do conceive, my risk of miscarriage is high well into the second trimester. When L was conceived we were a combination of excited and scared, I had conceived with no intervention which was to be celebrated, the risks were still high. I had an amazing OB who assured me that getting pregnant was the hard part and I would be fine. This relaxed me a lot and we had a very uneventful pregnancy, other than a chicken pox scare and a heart monitor issue around week 35. I was a little down at the beginning but once I felt like the baby was here to stay I felt better.  We waited a long time to tell more than very close friends and family because we were nervous. I personally don't often talk about the struggle to get pregnant in a deep way, I just say it's hard for us and leave it there. It feels personal and I don't want to tell you all about my ovaries unless, A. You ask and B. We are fairly close.

L's birth was traumatic for me to say the least even if routine for the hospital staff. I didn't get to hold her until she was a few hours old because I was shaking so badly I had to stay in c-section recovery for much longer than normal. I had labored for 24 hours with out progressing, opted for the c-section because I was bone tired. I was terrified of the c-section to begin with and then they missed the right spot in my spine several times for my spinal block which set the nerves in my left leg on fire, I could still probably trace their tree like structure on my thigh. I was hysterical crying, my husband just outside the door was freaking out because I don't cry often. It was disappointing, a little traumatic and it turns out L was stuck in my oddly turned pelvis. I had nightmares for almost a year where I would wake up drenched in sweat. A side effect of my spinal block was that from time to time my spine would get all tingly.

Breastfeeding, didn't go much better. Try as I might L only latched once in 6 months of breast feeding, I never produced enough milk so I had to constantly formula supplement. I spent six months with my little hand pump "milking" myself as my very comical younger brother put it. It didn't amount to much but I felt that I was trying and that was what mattered. That's when unhelpful comments started, you need to just stick with it, try harder or just give up my  kids had formula and they are ok. Then when I finally got up the nerve to talk about my nightmares the response was at least you have a healthy baby or my personal favorite it's a good thing you didn't try home birth like you wanted to you would have been a statistic. Then one day desperate and in tears I googled away at my keyboard during nap time. I learned a few things, first of all it's normal to have some signs of trauma even after the "best"of births. Second, that c-section moms sometimes have a harder time getting their milk in and on top of that women with my hormone condition often have a very difficult time with breastfeeding. After 8 months feeling like a failure at motherhood from the start and a wimp because I was so upset about my birth process, blaming my body and essentially myself, I learned that I was in fact... normal.

So now maybe you can see why I have been a little hesitant about the second. Paul and I haven't been preventing pregnancy for a long time, we aren't exactly trying but we aren't exactly stopping it either. We just recently talked about actually trying. You know what happened, all those feelings of betrayal about my body came back. Now back to all that fertility that is surrounding me in both the virtual world and in the "real" world.

First let me say, whether it is your first or tenth pregnancy I am happy for you. I just want to take a moment to talk about this. Today I was researching VBAC births, vaginal birth after cesarean. I read that most unhelpful comment, just have a c-section a healthy baby is all that matters. It mad me mad, it made me want to scream. All this birth, breastfeeding, parenting stuff, is so personal and as women we should be supporting each other even when we make different decisions.

Someone said to me recently well you know when you are "that" pregnant everything bothers you, remember? I just shook my head, I don't remember because after my initial worry, I was mostly just grateful. I didn't find pregnancy to burdensome at any point. So let's not assume we all have the same experience and I will continue to be gracious when you tell how miserable you are.

Next, I think it's fantastic that you are still breast feeding your four year old, I don't know that I would have done that until four, but if it works for you great! Just remember when you are standing with your megaphone on the corner yelling (maybe that is a slight exaggeration) about how wonderful breastfeeding is, some of us have boobies that don't make enough milk. Those boobies are attached to full human beings with feelings and even though you don't mean it sometimes it feels like you are rubbing your engorged, milk filled boobies in our faces.

Your giving birth in a pool in your living room? Awesome! It's a birth center for you? Fantastic! You are going with a scheduled c-section? Good for You!. Natural birth in the hospital with hypnosis, Bradley method etc etc? Great! Hospital birth with as many drugs as they can give you as soon as they can give them to you? Wonderful! If you are about to have a baby, you go girl! I will support you in any decision you make (even when I disagree). I promise I won't belittle you, make you feel like less because your birth process is different than mine was (or will be). Now can you promise me to start considering that a pool on the living room floor isn't safe for some of us? That some of us can't afford birthing centers? Or that perhaps our partners get a little sick at the site of blood so they need to be in a place where they can keep their eyes focused on ours?

You are shocked at a pregnancy you weren't planning? I get that. Perhaps you should think twice before complaining because someone might be silently wishing they could be pregnant and would give their right leg to have peed on a stick and gotten a positive. Same goes when you are walking through a store with your kids and loosing patience, there is a woman a few aisles over that has been praying for a baby for months or years and wishes you could see how blessed you are. Motherhood is stressful, we all loose patience but try to be grateful even in those chaotic and mortifying moments.

We need to stick together, lift each other up. Raising our kids isn't about out doing the lady next door. It isn't about touting about how you are making only best decisions, do any of us make a decision we don't feel is best? Your kid goes to daycare, cool. Mine doesn't, also cool. Public School, Private School, Home School? Great you know what works for your family! Guess what, we have chosen not to use spanking in our family, if you do or did it's your decision, don't ever tell me I should hit my kid. You share a bed with all 3 of your kids? Wow, I am impressed! Your kids sleep through the night in their own beds? Also impressed! I made my own baby food, you didn't? It's fine with me!

A last thought on fertility, when we do open up about it there are some unhelpful things to say, for me personally, well you need to loose weight, not helpful, I know I am a big girl, its part of my disorder and my constant battle with my body. You can find lists of other things that aren't helpful to say, just google. When Paul and I talk about adoption, saying things like "You might get a crazy one, like that lady on that show..." NOT HELPFUL. Well at least you got to have one, also not helpful. Don't even get me started on the way some moms talk to women who don't have children by choice or circumstance.

Here is what I think we can do... let's encourage each other, pray for one another, set our differences aside and walk this road together, motherhood/parenthood is hard and we need each other. Let's remember when we make our big announcements that we aren't all in the same place. If and when we conceive our second baby and we make the big announcement, I will be mindful that not everyone celebrates a pregnancy like I do, that someone may have lost a baby recently, that someone might be desperate to have a baby, that someone might not be able to afford some of the things I can. Most of all I will try to support you in your journey as a parent or a hopeful parent.

Today I am grateful for my child and those amazing people who support the choices we have made in raising her! The ones who say you are doing a good job when she throws a fit, the ones that say I am proud of you, the ones who give you a knowing smile.

May you be blessed with wonderful support systems, by the journey of watching children grow and allowing yourself to grow into the form of parenting that works for you.

Moving Up?

I had to attend a Presbytery meeting tonight at "home" or what ever you want to call this place that I am, because while I feel it will always be home, it isn't quite home anymore. I was moving from inquirer to candidate in the ordination process, which I did manage to do, but we will get to that. We got a bit turned around on our way and I was worried about being lost and flustered, I mean I did dream that I got lost gave up and went swimming instead and we were very close to the water tonight. We made it with time to eat and ample time to settle into our pew for the long night of Presbytery ahead. As I sat in worship, I reflected upon how many parts of my life were represented in that room. There was the row full of women from various stages of my life in the church and of course my mentor/pastor, who we have no word for in our language to describe that relationship. There was a woman behind me who I think was in the throws of dementia or the like, she was muttering to herself and her caretaker would say shhhhh, just go to sleep. I believe it may have been a daughter caring for her mom but I am not sure. I do know the woman whose words I could not make out most of worship, I could understand clearly when we would say Amen, she would echo AMEN. It was really beautiful, Amen, familiar and enough for if even a moment to allow her some recognition. It reminded me of the depth of ministry but also of where I have come from. It reminded me of afternoons spent in nursing homes, with muttering residents all around, never really understood, longing to be heard.

A teenage boy rushed in and sat next to me, I shared my bulletin with him as if he were one of the kids I had known for years, and there with a stranger, I was reminded of all the kids and families I have loved and been privileged to serve so far. The small church building with a congregation who knows what it means to struggle reminded me of the church where I serve now, the resilience in both congregations is amazing. It reminds me of where I can and have found my strength in times that feel impossible. There was a commissioning for Triennium, which reminded me of two of my dear friends from seminary who are going to work there. The music was played by a Latin praise band, it reminded me of one of my favorite professors and his last sermon at my current institution of learning. It also reminded me of some good times we have spent celebrating life with friends. The church was there with all it's brokenness... reminding me that in accepting this call, I am at least partially accepting the call to help heal some of that brokenness. In those moments of worship I was grateful for all the people along the way who have cheered me on, ran a mile with me, or just plain told me when I was being stubborn.

As I reflected upon what I would say when it was my turn to talk about myself, something I really dislike doing (I know hard to believe if you read this blog since it's all I write about), I thought about how pivotal relationships are in my faith journey. From my parents, to teachers, friends, guides and even a few "precious teachers" as Barbara Brown Taylor put it her graduation address for this year's graduates.

Maybe it was because I wrote a paper on the relationality of faith and the Trinitarian God. It hit me, that is why I don't like talking about my faith journey, writing statements of faith or anything of the sort because they become all about me and on a good day about me and God and most of the journey has been about me yes, but in relationship to the people around me. I am rarely going it alone and at every key point there was someone there with me. As I thought more what I really wanted to say was something about all the amazing people I have met along the way. I didn't want to talk about me, I wanted to tell about how people shaped me, taught me things. When to talk about "my faith journey" it sounds so well, self centered, and really can I really proclaim Christ and be focused all on me?

I'll leave it there for my grand reflection. As far as what I said, I couldn't tell you I was slightly nervous and feeling unprepared. I am not sure it's ever the sort of thing you are prepared for. When I finished I felt I could have done better.  I didn't come out of the night completely unscathed but I did make it to the next step in the ordination process and I suppose that is what counts. The funny thing is I told my husband last night that I was worried that I would cry because I have been a bit more emotional since the semester ended and I have time to have feelings, I didn't, but I feel like I could and it is certainly not for the reasons I anticipated. For as much as I have felt how much I have changed in the last few days, somethings are still the same.

In these wee hours of the morning I am so grateful for those people who have brought me this far, walked with me, wept with me, encouraged me and so on. 

Be blessed by ALL the relationships you have in your life.