Bad Art, Healing Art, and the In-between

On Sunday I had a frustrating day, the sermon felt really flat even though I like the content, potluck meant more time at church and less time for some visits. I did not get my usual afternoon nap as I did visits and some errands. I threw together a pot of tortilla soup in the crock pot, it smelled amazing. We took some down time to see Hidden Figures, which is amazing. After the film we came home to a house full of the smell of this soup. We started to eat the soup, we could not eat the soup, I put the whole lime in, it turns out lime rinds will make soup so bitter, nothing will counter act it. I ended up eating pop tarts, dinner of champions. Then in a move that was less than wise, I decided to work on a craft project I have been dreaming of for almost two years. Right before we moved here I saw one of those canvas signs that said in this home we do... I liked it but waited to purchase it. When I went to purchase it, it was sold out. I did some internet searches and found more words I liked. I had a picture of a sign and a few extra words to add. I had spent Saturday evening designing my template/stencil on the computer and Sunday I had "printed" it on my cutting tool. This is a tedious process. My kiddo went to bed in the middle of this process. I didn't plan to finish the project that night but I did. Once I got going I couldn't stop. The thing is I had attended a sign painting class a few weeks ago and I had the steps down. In the class we used boards at home I was using a canvas I had purchased. It turns out that canvas in addition to being too textured and pliable to really hold my stencil, also bleeds when you paint with this technique. I made a good first try but it bled and it is splotchy and not what I envisioned. I decided I would regroup and try again. I hung it on a wall to dry so we didn't get painted kitten feet.

Fast forward to the next morning, kiddo gets up sees my project on the wall and excitedly say, "Mommy is THAT your poster!" I replied, "Yes it is, but it got a little splotched up. I need to do it over." "MOMMY! There is no such thing as bad art!" (I know she hears this at home but I am pretty sure she hears it at school too.) As always she has me thinking on my toes. "Well it isn't bad but it isn't how I would like it, so I will try again." This led to a good conversation about practicing and trying again.

Now it is not lost on me that the first word on these signs is REAL and there is a chance that maybe I should leave it as in an attempt to be authentic. I told my daughter I liked the over all design and the colors but I would like to try again. She talked about how she could try again on her drawings. It felt like an excellent teaching moment. On Tuesday I remade the soup and made sure to point out, I was trying again. This weekend I will do take two on this sign to get it how I want it. She is right there is no bad art not in soup or signs. Yet, there is the idea that if something doesn't turn out how we might like we can try again, most of the time.

It would seem that there are no second chances when it comes to this past election because tomorrow the inauguration happens. I am not going to lie, this election has been hard on me, it has not only pressed on everything I hold dear in a negative way; it has made preaching the gospel with out sounding political nearly impossible. My job went from challenging to overwhelming in one day's time. I am hurting, I am a little angry, I am a little afraid. My call is to serve the people of God, the people of God are well, everyone. How do I raise my voice for the oppressed because of my call and convictions, when suddenly the love of Christ is totally political like it was 2000 years ago?

Long before I was a pastor, long before I knew this would be my life, I lived, worked, and dreamed in film production. Film was and is my art form of choice. Now I left this field, particularly live news (my last related gig) because I didn't like some of what it stood for. Lately, art has been my balm. Art has been helping me to heal and process my emotions. There is a lot out there that can be considered entertainment: music, tv, movies, books... you get the idea. Not all entertainment is art. The difference is entertainment amuses us, art speaks to the full breath of human experience. Art speaks to pain, uncertainty, oppression, joy, love, and overcoming. Art speaks to all that we experience and it stirs in us through pictures, paintings, words, songs. It hits that place of commonality we humans tend to have, it overcomes all the barriers we build to protect ourselves, hits us right in the heart. This past week I was reminded of the powerful voice of art in our lives. I am grateful for the way fearless art spoke to me this week. I am proud that in this contentious time the artists are not afraid to speak truth into the world. In this strange time we must cling to what gives us hope.

Fertility and Grief

This week we started our last allowed round of intervention on the local level for the treatment of infertility. We have other options and we have pretty amazing insurance right now which means many of those options are covered by said insurance. We need to discuss how much further we want to take things should this round fail. At this point, we are not super hopeful it will be successful, experience has robbed us of naive hopefulness. We have been through all the tests, everything is showing up as it should. The medicine is allowing me to ovulate, sometimes with multiple follicles. My Fallopian tubes aren't blocked. Paul's counts are all good. I have lost more weight (there is still more to make disappear), I now weigh almost 60 pounds less than I did when our daughter was born. We are consistently making our lifestyle healthier.

This is one hell of a roller coaster ride! First, it's emotional: my whole life I have dreamed of having a big, loud, family, that never takes themselves too seriously and is full of love, much like the one I grew up in. Don't get me wrong, my childhood was far from perfect, a perfect childhood doesn't exist, but I really love my siblings and I am glad we journeyed together toward adulthood. Every month as I lose the next round of bathroom roulette, I grieve deeply for the family I have dreamed of. For the dream of growing human life with in my own body. (Our family will grow by adoption if we have more biological children or not, it is just a hard thing to cling to.) Imagine the thing you want most in the world and you cannot do anything else to work toward that goal. I don't quit, I set goals, I reach them or I adjust. Every month there is this build up of cautious hope, every little body change is a spark of light, then there is the let down. The tears. The grief. The depression. Then there is the fact that during this whole ride I am taking medication that changes my hormones to activate my body to do what it should do naturally. It is emotional before you take the hormones, after, well lets just say GOD BLESS PAUL! He married a woman that doesn't cry all that often and didn't for 12 years, now I don't stop long enough to catch my breath some days. I can't know for sure but I doubt that is easy to deal with.

Recently I made some medication changes, maybe they will be the secret to this puzzle, maybe they won't. There is no good explanation for why our sperm and eggs won't meet up when they should. Perhaps I need to schedule them a facebook event or create tinder accounts for them.I am sad and frustrated and disappointed. I still have to lead church, to preach the good news, when I want to scream what the heck God? I could write you twenty pages on the theology of infertility and where God is in this process. Yet, that doesn't help with my own feelings and frustrations in this process. God and I have a rough relationship some days (I am probably not supposed to say that but it's true and this pastor would tell you as much in person).

This journey takes over your life. Today I walked into a local business I frequent and there was a new employee who was obviously pregnant, my heart ached a little. This week it is my daughter's week to be "star student" and tell her class about herself. I held back tears when it came to the question of how many brothers and sisters she has...0. Last week seeing all the baby stuff in the basement was like a sucker punch to the gut, I had to work to function the rest of the day. Everyday something presents itself that makes me want to lose my composure, some days I give in and I do. Seemingly innocent social media posts become like daggers in my heart and it isn't because I am not genuinely happy for people. It's like every pregnant belly, every pregnancy announcement, every birth announcement, every quip about surprise pregnancies, every complaint about multiple children... starts an unhealthy script in my head. Rationally, I know dealing with an unplanned pregnancy is hard, I know dealing with more than one kid holds it's own set of challenges, I know there is excitement to welcome new life. Irrationally, it starts that internal dialogue, you are broken, you aren't good enough, you are a bad parent to the kid you have, you are a terrible pastor, why does your spouse put up with you, you should have eaten less in childhood. These are lies, they aren't truth, I KNOW that. Some days it is really hard to remember that. To remember hormones play a huge role in my struggle with weight and health. To remember we are all broken. To remember I AM good enough. That I am not a perfect parent but I am a decent one and so on. So I fight to find my footing and it gets lonely and exhausting. I have done some really hard things in my life, some by choice and some by circumstance, this journey might be the hardest thing I have done.

I haven't been myself lately, my focus is off, my thinking is muddled, this is a huge part of the why. If you are reading this and you happen to be the kind to pray, please pray for this process. If you don't, send good vibes into the universe for us or whatever gives your life meaning and connectedness. Over the years I have prayed for God's timing not my own. Lately I just pray to accept God's will in this and I fear our wills are at odds as they often are. I pray to do the thing I least want to do and I am not alone in that, there is a long line of saints who have done the same. Recently, I found community, with a group of women who share in this struggle, I am so grateful for them and our shared experience. (Although I wish none of us had this experience.) I have found solace in their stories and their bravery.

Learning & Tears

I wanted to sit down and write today, about Opal and adventurous, nervous new dog, and to try to collect my thoughts in this post election season. Then something happened, I had an ultrasound to check my follicle growth for this month. My third in six days to be exact with a new medication we had to watch follicles slowly develop, so we know when to stimulate ovulation.

I need to tell you for a moment about my head space this morning. We adopted a dog with separation anxiety and every time we leave the house it is nerve wracking. Yesterday she pooped while I was out, that has never happened before. We can't let her out because she escapes from our yard so she gets plenty of walks, yesterday we must have had a timing issue. In addition to having a hard time being alone, she is in heat, and likes to run off. We have had her two weeks and it has been SO STRESSFUL, but we love her already. My kiddo already has the over excited it's almost Christmas attitude and demeanor. She also stayed up too late last night and I had to get her to school early so I could go get my next ultrasound. It is Advent, read pastor rips her hair out season. I had a mild stomach bug that really has slowed me down. I was also feeling a little beat up by this fertility process. I am grateful for amazing insurance that covers most of this, so very grateful. I mentioned to my doctor and his wife how grateful I was for their time over the holiday weekend as I had not one but two scans while the office was closed. I had a scan Sunday morning, before I led worship, and it was super uncomfortable. I just wanted to get this done and over with. I don't have much hope left in the realm of fertility. I am pretty sure I wasn't hiding that well today.

The doctor came in, enthusiastically saying today is the day! I laughed because when I hear any variation of this is the day, I want to respond with, that the Lord has made. My scan was good I have a good follicle (egg/ovum), I will get shot up today to stimulate the release of that egg. I had a second egg that was not far behind, so I got the twins speech again. I did not roll my eyes, because honestly at this point I would laugh and laugh and laugh if after years there were TWO babies, and I might name them both Issac. Anyhow, I sat there with my bare bottom covered in a sheet, while the doctor dictated his notes. Thinking, wow I would really like my pants on. Then he turned around and reviewed everything with me. He added, we haven't prayed, so let's pray today. I was mildly shocked but agreed obviously prayer is not weird for me. What is weird is hearing someone pray for me, I am the one who is always praying out loud for people. It was almost startling to hear someone pray for me. Honestly, I almost cried.

I almost cried because there are moments in this process where it is really easy to lose sight of faith and really hard to keep the faith. We all need someone to hold us up when we lose hope. It is not hard to do, I do it often it comes with the call. To have someone do that for me this morning was amazing. To hear someone else talk to God about God's will for me... just wow. I left feeling much better than when I arrived. I also pondered how hard it must be to balance faith in the world of medicine when you don't want to push your faith but do want to share it.

Which brings me to the next bit on learning. This is not the only doctor here who prays with their patients. If I am totally honest I am not sure before today I would have even liked the idea of praying with my doctor. That's a weird blurred place for me. I am sure there are praying doctors all over the place but I have never experienced it before now. It is something that smallish town South Dakota life offers that other places do not. I have had a lot of moments where I scoff at this smallish town life in this past year and three quarters. Yet it seems in the past week, I am being broken open to the good possibilities in this sort of life. When our dog was missing we had the real small town experience for the first time as the police helped look and the radio station announced our missing pet at no cost.

I have no doubt, that God is working in me, as I am broken open to a life that seems so foreign to me. And really that is just like God, at least the God I know.

Today I am grateful, for prayer, for insurance, for community, and God's persistence in breaking through my stubborn will. 

Flags and Idols

I have seen enough vague posts on this Colin Kaepernick character that I had to look up what exactly this person did to get such a response of alternating outrage and support. What can I say I have a diverse set of friends who sit on either side of this and many other trending stories that we will forget about next week. I didn't give the whole thing much thought because it will pass in a weeks time when we have some other person and their actions dividing us, making us feel so strongly we pull back out our soap boxes and start screaming at each other again. It seems to me that we really like to pull out those boxes and climb upon them any chance we get. But then I saw this post shared by a good a friend (I am not tech savvy enough to screen shot it with out the comments) A Steven Michael posted, "I just want to point out I didn't see anyone setting football jerseys on fire when various football players were accused of rape/sexual assault, domestic violence and murder."

I had this thought, after reading that about ten times: well dam! Then all of a sudden I was having a thousand thoughts all at once about this situation that has nothing to do with me.

I want to share some of that with you fine readers:

1. DID YOU READ THAT STATEMENT? Why is it that people are taking to the streets with fire because of someone sitting when some people deemed it inappropriate. WHY doesn't this happen when actual crimes are committed? Most of which by the way have victims that are women. Look even if some guy you will never meet mortally offends you, it is NOT a crime. Please someone tell me you were outraged about rapes, assaults, violence, and murder too? Dam you crickets.

2. I notice that only the actions of black folks during the national anthem get national media coverage. President Obama, Gabby Douglass, and in a different way Colin Kaepernick. Now I need to make a confession, if you haven't noticed I am white, I am a quasi-public figure because of my job and the region I live in. My white self does not place her hand over her heart for the playing of the national anthem. I didn't even know this was a thing until I moved from where I grew up. Over the winter I googled the flag code because this hand over the heart thing blew my mind. The code does suggest hand over the heart but does NOT require it. I have stood with my attention focused on the flag hands at my side for a year and half here. No one has noticed or if they have they haven't said a word and it hasn't been in the newspaper or on the news.

Maybe you are thinking my parents were absolutely terrible people for not teaching me to put my hand over my heart or to stand at a parade when a flag goes by. They weren't actually my dad taught me to not be distracted during the national anthem, to focus on the flag and be respectful. But that was before he got busy dying from complications of a disease he had because of the chemicals he was exposed to in Vietnam as he did his civic duty as a person who was drafted. 

3. Mr. Kaepernick's right to sit during the playing of the national anthem is protected by the constitution. The constitution many of us are touting when we want to make it a point in our own favor. We can't have it both ways the same constitution that allows you to have a gun, free speech etc is the one that gives him the right to sit when you don't want him to.

4. I have noticed the very people who are up in arms about this whole thing, the ones who are most deeply offended by this person's actions are in fact the same people who loathe political correctness. They are the ones quick to say, we need to have thicker skins and buck up and not get offended so easily. I guess that doesn't apply when they are offended. I am telling you offended people what you are feeling right now in this moment when disgusted by this disrespect is exactly what other people feel when you are saying they need a thicker skin. Your being offended is not more important than someone else who is offended by something you do. Think about that, really really think about that.

5. I do not follow football much, but I have bought gifts for people who do. Football jerseys are not cheap last I check and that was at least 10 years ago they ran $80-$150, that is a considerable amount of money. Which makes me want to ask would you burn that cash in the street? I know anger inspires us to do things we might not do otherwise. Yet you have a choice, you could take that money and do good in the world. If you have the privilege of money to burn, you also have the privilege of being able to support the cause of your choice.  If you need inspiration, there isn't a place in this fine country you are quick to demand support for, where a child didn't go to bed hungry last night. One could choose to actually make this nation better, to feed children who can do nothing to get food. Maybe that isn't your thing, I can think of a hundred ways in which good can be done. PEOPLE WE NEED TO DO GOOD!

6. Chances are if it wasn't brought to our attention, none of us would have ever seen or noticed a guy sitting during the national anthem. We didn't happen upon this, our attention was brought to it. We need to think critically about who brought it to our attention and what their motive might be.

7. We are the ones who made athletes public figures and idols.

8. The United States of America is the name of our country, it isn't America. America actually encompass all of North and South America. What we express in the US isn't the only expression of being American. This matters more than we could ever know.

9. The theological implications of this situation are ripe for consideration. Let's explore a few, shall we? Jesus says love your neighbor and love your enemy... guess what that includes Colin Kaepernick. God comes first, always. It is in the Ten Commandments, it is in Jesus teaching in all the gospels. We get in trouble when we have idols (we all have them). The flag and patriotism are certainly idols for many. If the flag gets in the way of your ability to love your neighbor, it is likely an idol. When we do not love our neighbors, we fall short of the greatest commandment, which separates us from God. We all have to work on our idols.

10. Somewhere along the way loving Jesus has become synonymous with being patriotic. This is a problem because God doesn't play favorites. God doesn't love us more because we are the United States. God loves us, but God loves Mexico, Nigeria, Iran, China, Poland too. I am going to tell you something that won't make me popular. I love God and follow Jesus before I am a US citizen. I struggle with pledging allegiance to a flag, not because I believe it isn't worth of respect or that the USA is a bad place, but because my allegiance is to God. Frequently I am confronted with situations where it is becoming clearer and clearer to me that we are worshiping a flag, that it has crossed into idolatry, and that makes me incredibly uncomfortable. My mere naming that discomfort is enough to set people off and bring on the name calling. That's ok I am going to love them.

Today I am grateful for this space to share my thoughts freely. To confront my own discomfort and to have friends who provide a safe space for me.

Making People Cry

Yesterday in a round about way I made my family cry. Not my husband and child but my brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles, my mom. Meanwhile I was experiencing the kind of joy that is life giving. My dad is dead, he has been for sometime now, this is not new but this is why people were crying. I was just barely an adult when he died after a battle with a long illness. Most of my childhood he could not live with us because of his medical issues, he lived in nursing home facilities. When he died there wasn't much of his "stuff" left. There are very few earthly possessions that were actually his, that he wore or chose before the long illness. For about ten years now hanging in a closet where ever I happened to live was his leather racing jacket. Recently, my brother, his namesake, quietly got married. I wanted to send him a wedding gift but couldn't think of what to send. Then I learned his spouse also rides motorcycles like my brother and it just so happens she took his name. One day I pulled out that motorcycle racing jacket and looked at my pre-hyphenated name on it and I knew it did not belong with me anymore.

My husband and I started cleaning and polishing it, not quite to new but made it look decent. Then we mailed it off and ordered a shadow box to hold it and had it delivered to their house. Yesterday I had a text message with a photo of it all put together and it gave me so much JOY. When I packed up the jacket I cried a little because I imagined this jacket touching his body, long gone. I imagined him picking it out, his humor, his races, or how it appears the M was first sewn on as a W and how he would have responded to that. With a few tears I sent it off to it's new home, where it has always belonged. A little while after I received the text message I had a facebook notification that I had been taggged in a photo, it was my brother thanking me for sending it and a picture of the final product. It looked amazing in the shadow box with a photo added. I was very happy to see it. The nature of facebook is that other people see what we post. Person after person who misses my dad posted how they were crying.

That is what I want to write about today, my dad has been gone since 1999, he was 50 when he died. That seemed old then but now it is not that far in my future. He wouldn't even be 70 yet. His death was tragic and it will always be tragic. It will always be that event that shaped those of us who loved him. I believe that yesterday we all longed for him so because his jacket made us remember him, our grief for him, and that very tragedy that took him from us. All these years later it doesn't make sense, it doesn't feel any better, we still miss him in our lives, and I am probably not the only one who wonders, what if Agent Orange wasn't a thing? Yet it is a thing and that thing altered forever so many lives in ways we will never comprehend beyond the pain of grief.

My mom made the comment, "Leave it to Beck to make everyone cry." She has a point, I do kind of have a reputation for making my family cry in the face of grief or tragedy, because this loss isn't the only one we have faced together. I am really rather terrible at dealing with my own emotions but I am good at naming what we would all rather ignore because it is too painful to speak. Today that is the tragic loss of a good man far too soon for reasons that will never make sense. My dad died, it was and is tragic and it always will be. Therefore there will always be a little sting for us when we are reminded of what should have been.

Today I am grateful for the joy and the tears and the life no matter how short it was cut.

What I Couldn't Do

This morning I was walking around watering all the plant life we have successfully cultivated this summer: herbs, veggies, flowers, even some accidental corn. I had a fleeting thought that turned meditation for this morning. I have tried eagerly for at least ten years to grow a garden or flowers in a variety of ways. It has only been in the last year that I have found my green thumb and it is sometimes still a little yellow or brown but hey I will take the progress. A few years ago I would have told you I couldn't garden well despite my best efforts. I was marveling at all that grew and how the metaphor of growth is really important in my life right now. I looked at our accidental corn that is growing on OUR FRONT STOOP in a flower pot with some creeping phlox. I suppose that the corn was delivered via squirrel. We grow by accident sometimes too and it is a surprising sort of growth. But really all I did was put seeds in the earth where sun would shine, then I watered them and waited. The waiting isn't always easy but it has been worth it. Another metaphor for my life right now. Hmm.. how interesting to encounter the depths of self and the Divine while watering the garden.

As I went about my morning a list of things I couldn't do formed in my head and I wanted to share it with you.

I could never read or speak in front of people, I get far too nervous. Except, now it is my job to just that every week for at least an hour if not more.

I could never sing solo in front of more than a handful of people because I am not good enough. Except, all summer I sang the kid's talks in church solo with a microphone. I won't be singing solos to sold out crowds anytime soon but I know I can sing in a microphone in front of people and not die.

I could never decorate a fancy cake. Except, I learned how to a few years ago and often challenge myself to do harder things.

I could never go back to school, I am too old for that now. Spoken when I was 21. Nearly 15 years later I have finished four degrees. Including a Master's Degree I was never going to be smart enough again. I look forward to the day when I can start my PhD. and I know I can do that.

I could never be a pastor because of all the death, especially untimely ones. Except, I am and I have lived through walking with people grieving tremendous loss.

I could never be beautiful because I don't fit the mold. A work in progress on this one.

This afternoon I am going to think of all the things I still can't do, maybe I will find some lies.

What is it you simply could never do that you might like to?

Today I am grateful for the loud and constant voices who said YES YOU CAN when I said I could never. 

Another Week

Another week is upon us as summer begins to settle down. I still cannot get used to the idea of school starting in August. We have for the next week a little bit of a slow down before we jump back into school for which I am grateful. However, I suspect it is hormones being all out of whack, I am just not myself. I spend a lot of time feeling sick or just plain out of it. Hopefully it will pass in the next few days because it is exhausting.

Today I am grateful for this slow down before we dive in to another school year.