Wallowing in Grace

To Die...and Perchance, To Live

2011-09-25T03:39:00.001-07:00

It's hard to let a thing die...especially when that something is the product of your hands, your heart, a product of you. This perfectionist wants to just make it better, do it over, fix it. But there is a time when you stand at a crossroads and imagine the knock-off version of the thing that would come from fixing it or the truly authentic yet hard and start from nothing (again) process that comes with letting the first thing go and starting the new. Whatever the thing is, I am sure you have stood at this place I am standing, and probably with much greater, more profound somethings than mine. What I am dreaming of is a new voice, a new space to write and to fill with words and life. What I must let die is this space, this season of writing, this blog. It served its purpose, but I am on to something new, I think, I hope, I dream. I am grateful for the readers who have popped by for a visit and glad to have shared this space for a while.

Thanks for sharing this time with me, and all the best to you on your journey.

Rev. Mommy aka Pastor Robin

An Unusual Discipline

2011-03-30T06:36:00.000-07:00

When I was preparing for Ash Wednesday, I came across an article "Seize the Day: Reimagining Ash Wednesday" by Bruce Epperly.
In the article, Epperly invites the reader to observe Lent as a time of living in each moment. I interpreted this for my own life and work a little more specifically: finding the joy in each moment. For many years, I have practiced the discipline of fasting during Lent--giving up a food or behavior or activity. Theologically, I had interpreted Lent as a time that would be hard and dreary and not fun. That was the point. Getting to Holy Week should not be a pleasant experience. A couple of years ago, a church member confessed to me, "I just love Lent. It is my favorite time." And I thought she was: A. nuts B. brown-nosing C. one of those people who gets pleasure from self-denial. Because Lent just isn't fun.
Well, I can say that this year's observance of Lent has not been fun, but it has been filled with good things. And an unusual discipline. Finding the joy in each moment. This has been a good and fitting discipline for me to search for green poking through the barren limbs of this season.
At the more than halfway point, I must say that it has been an experience of God unlike any other. It has been a good Lent. It has been a holy Lent.
I have engaged in aspects of my work that I typically avoid and dislike--because they make this introvert uncomfortable-- on a more regular basis--and I have found joy here .
I have used my hands to create something--another task I avoid for fear that spending this time doing this is frivolous. I have found satisfaction here .
I have reorganized parts of my life--a task I avoid because it all feels overwhelming--and I have found peace here.
I have purged my living and working spaces of the excess--a task I avoid because having the stuff and clutter around me feels less vulnerable--and I have found contentment here.
Seizing the Day, and loving Lent.

Feeding and Being Fed

2011-03-11T07:18:00.000-08:00

When I was nursing littlest baby girl, I was having trouble producing enough food to supply her hungry little demands. So, I went into research fiend mode and found every scrap of info I could on how to solve this problem and fill my little one's belly. The most helpful piece of advice I found was to take a "nursing vacation." Basically, I needed to stay at home for an entire weekend, lose the distractions, and focus on feeding baby girl as much as possible. The more she ate, they said, the more she would want, and my body would respond accordingly. Well, I do focus on that, I thought. Hello, that's why I am doing so much research--because of my focus on feeding her. But, I wasn't tuning out all of the distractions. I wasn't setting aside extra time when she wasn't crying and upset and well past "hungry."
I am unapologetic about my hiatus from blogging recently. Because, my cyber friends, I have been taking a nursing vacation. Not in the literal sense, but rather, in the spiritual sense. I have been getting away from some distractions in my relationship with God. I was well past hungry. And I was waiting far too long to get my nourishment. And as the baby literature promised, the more I fed on God, the more I wanted to spend time with him. Here's to more regular blogging...and with a full heart.
"That you may nurse and be satisfied
from her consoling breast;
that you may drink deeply with delight
from her glorious bosom." Isaiah 66:11

Procrastinating the Project

2010-09-27T06:50:00.000-07:00

There's a story in the bible that makes me uncomfortable, though it's not the only one to do that. This particular story is that of Jacob wrestling with an angel, presumed to be God. That story makes me uncomfortable because it makes me think of all the times I have wrestled with God in my life, and to be honest, it creates this feeling of panic for the time that I will surely wrestle with God...and lose...not that that hasn't happened already. What I mean is that it creates in me this intense anxiety of God wrapping me in a full nelson, much like my older brothers used to practice on me, and getting me to cry "mercy" before doing what God is trying to coerce me to do. I don't think it really happens like that--the wrestling with God bit. I really don't. And my reading of Jacob's experience reinforces that it doesn't happen like that, but still, I can't let go of that eensy weensy suspicion that in my case it all might go down with a 10 second count. God 1. Me 0. Total Knockout. I realize I may be mixing sport lingo here, so to my one male reader (aka hubby): forgive me. Reluctant Pilgrim says that this passage might really be about wrestling with love. (http://reluctantpilgrim.wordpress.com/2010/09/04/at-first-blush/)
I'm saying all of this to really say that I've been wrestling with love on something--procrastinating out of anxiety and a host of other reasons and issues. A book. Okay, that's a big aim. The project I have finally agreed to begin is most likely not going to be a publishable work, but nevertheless, it is my dream to be a published writer. For so long, I have had this dream, but it has been more of a I wanna be a writer though I really don't know about what I would write kind of dream. I have no ideas.
I can remember being about 13 and asking my dad how to get started on a book. He said, "Well, you write what's called a synopsis, a summary of what your book is going to be about, and you send that to the publisher." So there I was in my teenage ambition with my purple feather-boa-tipped pen and my 3 pieces of torn out notebook paper, "Synopsis" scrawled across the top. And I had nothing to say.
Years later, I mentioned to a friend of mine, in passing, in one random conversation that I can't even recall now, that perhaps I would like to write a book.
A few weeks ago over lunch, her first question to me, "So how is your book coming?" "What book?" I asked, looking at her as if she had four heads.
"The book you said you would write. How is it coming?"
"Oh that," I said, even though I knew exactly what she was talking about. "I haven't started it yet. I don't have anything to write about."
"Why not write your story? You know sort-of like Richard Lischer's Open Secrets? A story about you and your journey. I can totally see you doing that."
"Who would want to read my story? It's not that interesting."
And then it occurred to me that I should tell my story, and not for other people, for me.
Not too long after that lunch came a breakfast with a church member who asked me about my writing. She occasionally reads this blog, and she said she'd like to read more of something from me...like a book. And I said to her, "It's my dream to write a book. But I'm not sure I have anything to write about."
The following Sunday at church, she handed me a copy of the movie, Julie and Julia. A woman who writes about her life. And not only that...she takes on a project--something she does for herself.
I could do that, I thought. I could take on the project of telling me story...for me. Not because anyone will read it. But because it could mean something to me. And it would get me writing.
A few months ago, I met my heroine in writing, Lauren Winner. I love Lauren Winner. Her witty, insightful, and profound works make me wish I could be her for a day. So, when she came to speak at the conference I was attending, I was beyond thrilled. Imagine my surprise to hear her talk about all the people who had written to her saying that they wanted to be writers and were looking for her advice. Drat. I thought that was just my idea. Well, I was actually going to make an appointment and meet with her in person. But I can't believe all these other people had the same idea. So, she said in her lecture, that those of us who really want to write should just get started writing. Just do it. Write. But not for a book or magazine. Not to get published. But write. For writing's sake.
So, here goes. I'm starting the project. For me. For writing's sake. From time to time, I might post some things on here, but mostly, it will just be between me and my laptop and Jacob's God and love. Wish me luck, or love, or something like that.

"Young Lady"

2010-09-02T05:35:00.000-07:00

"Young lady," he said, and I knew immediately where this conversation was going to go. I have had this conversation before. I waited for the first in the series of veiled insults (in the form of questions and snide remarks), and I didn't have to wait long.
"I hear you're a woman . . . of the cloth (that last word he whispered as if ashamed to say it in the same sentence with "woman."
I thought about bolting at that moment, not wanting to have this predictable dialogue again, but instead, something like God whispered to me, "stay." "Yes, you could say that I am a woman of the cloth" I said.
"Well, I don't see how that's possible seeing as you're clearly only about 19. You must have just decided to take up preaching and made yourself a minister, because there's no way you've been to seminary....And who's your District Superintendent? Ah, that's a girl, too....You got a husband? Is he any good? The only good preacher is the one who has a pretty wife who blends in with the congregation, sings in the choir, plays the piano, you know, makes the preacher better....You're so young, you probably got about 50 more years before you retire, right?....Oh, you went to THAT seminary--ain't nothing but a bunch of liberals down there....stupid liberals who want us to help the poor, but the poor just want my money--they're deadbeats. You don't want any more cake? What's a matter--afraid of losing your figure? You the only preacher at that church? So, you preach every week? By yourself? You ever need a week off--call me and I'll come preach."
I've had this conversation before, but in the past, my responses would be tentative, brief, and above all--polite. I wouldn't make the other feel uncomfortable. Basically, I would take all the shots, and then say, "Nice talking to you."
But not this time. That voice inside me that whispered, "stay" powered my too often silenced self, and something different happened this time. I responded. As me. Without being defensive. Just calmly, and confidently, I let him know that I knew his game, and I wasn't going to sit quietly as little young lady. Dare I say it, I even (*gasp*) evangelized a little when he began taking pot shots at the poor and preaching his prosperity gospel.
I can't believe I am saying this, but I am glad for this conversation. Because the real me finally opened her mouth--the me that is called, affirmed, loved, and empowered to be who I am made to be--a pastor. An unapologetically young and female pastor.
"Let's just go ahead and be what we were made to be."--Paul, the former Christian-hating Jew who followed Jesus

Eat, Pray, Love

2010-08-18T07:41:00.000-07:00

That's the new movie out, and it's the latest on Oprah's and New York Times' lists. I read it before it was the thing to read. I remember being in the store and being drawn in by the title. Simple, I thought. I like to eat. Praying's my business. And romance is the third charm. I loved the book. I loved the idea of the journey. Lately, it has occurred to me, though, that life isn't finding the right journey--it's more about life being the culmination of detours on the way of the journey, which all add up, in the end, to a life well-lived. In the 2nd year of my "next 30 years," I realize that in the last decade or so, I have spent way too much time stressing about finding the right journey, or the right stops along the way of the journey. Like those I hold dear in my heart, I have developed habits and patterns of living that strive to create an ordered world around me--a predictable place that I can control. This has brought me nothing but stress and frustration since you probably already learned at a much earlier age than I that life cannot be measured or controlled or ordered--if it is to meaningful and lovely, that is. So, I'm trying to learn to love life in a different way these days. I am looking for beauty in non-obvious places. I am finding contentment in the plentiful chaos of everyday. And I am discovering that this non-ordered, messy world is, in fact, as the Creator said, GOOD.

Do Over

2010-08-05T09:56:00.000-07:00

Have you ever found yourself wondering what life would be like if...? Have you ever wanted a new life? I posed that question to the hubby recently and quickly had to clarify what I meant. First, I wasn't suicidal...wondering about offing this life. Second, I wasn't contemplating leaving him or the children. The new life would absolutely include them. What I was dreaming of was a new place, a new setting in which to live the life we already have. I know it might not make much sense, but when you are a dreamer, like I am, you dream of going places and doing things that are exciting and fresh and new. Staying in the same place is comfortable, but it gets old. A blog I follow talked about the lure of looking for life somewhere else. She has some great thoughts on Eat, Pray, Love, too. That's why I wonder and wander around asking myself...what would I do if...? What would life be like in Seattle? What would life be like if instead of being a preacher I were the owner of a small bookshop in England (it's very Nottinghill of me, I note)? Why am I constantly looking for do-over? I'm not sure, but I think I like it because it helps me escape a little from reality and reminds me to never stop dreaming...because though I am content with the present state and place of my life...someday one of those dreams just might be my reality.

If I Weren't a Pastor...

2010-06-03T05:29:00.000-07:00

I'd be a hairdresser. Wow, what am I, 70? Hairdresser? Surely, nobody in the business calls herself that anymore. Unless she's doing perms and beehives. Ahem, I would be a hair stylist, hair designer, even. Yes, hair designer. That sounds fancy and fun and creative. Except for one teensy little itty bitty almost not even important enough to mention detail: I am a perfectionist. A friend of mine who is a hair designer tells me that you cannot be a perfectionist and do good hair. Good hair, she says, is not perfect. It is not M'Lynn's brown football helmet ala Steel Magnolias. It moves; it has life; it is real. Real hair does not have perfectly placed streaks and straight across bangs. I did try my hand at hair design once: I decided I would paint blond highlights through my own hair. They turned out pumpkin orange and about 5 inches wide. Because I kept painting over the spots I had already done in attempts to create the perfect streaks. And I was so anxious about ending up with the perfect color, I didn't wait for the process to be complete and the color to change from orange to blond. There are no logical reasons to affirm me as a hair designer. I have no gifts or skills in this area. But it sounds really fun...it sounds like a job that doesn't require me to be perfect or appear to be. It is a way I could honor my creative streak--that part of me that begs to be freed of perfectionist woman, the part of me that wants to break up with do-it-all-for-everybody-all-the-time lady, the part of me that wants to create something beautiful, the part of me that knows that making and doing with my hands is important but often forgets how to do that or remembers but doesn't take the time to do or make with my hands. I don't give in to hair designer wanna be, artist in disguise (very heavily disguised) girl very often, but when I do, all kinds of crazy, unplanned, imperfect, beautiful things happen. The reality is I am a preacher girl, but I think preacher girl and quirky artsy girl could be better friends.

Some Things Just Don't Get Old

2010-05-03T09:20:00.000-07:00

"I really love my pit crew, and I sometimes love my work. Sometimes it feels like God has reached down and touched me, blessed me a thousand times over, and sometimes it all feels like a mean joke, like God's advisors are Muammar Qaddafi and Phyllis Schlafly." --Anne Lamott, Operating Instructions

There are parts and pieces to every occupation that are monotonous, aspects that get old, and some scenarios that just plain suck the very life out of you. Ministry has these parts and pieces, aspects, and scenarios, too. There are days that I wonder, "Are you sure you want me for this work, Lord?" But then, there are moments and glimpses and even whole days that leave me boggled--that God would use me--and bursting with joy that he does. Yesterday was one of those days. Yesterday, I gave the sacrament of baptism to my littlest baby girl. I baptized bigger baby girl when she was 8 months old, and it was such a God-saturated time. So, I was expecting baptism #2 to be just as awesome. And God did not disappoint. I wonder how the early Christians ever sat down to write their experiences with the Holy Spirit? It's just so hard to put into words. What can I say about feeling the water drip through my fingers, feeling different than ordinary water? What can I say about touching the forehead of a child, knowing and feeling that it's a different kind of touch? What can I say about God actually showing up when I ask God to show up? I can say it doesn't get old. It isn't a routine I know like the back of my hand. It's an experience with God that is never the same twice. It is always powerful beyond measure. It never fails to move me in the deepest place of my soul. And it even blows back into me the life that gets sucked out at other not-so-moving times. "Sometimes it feels as if God has reached down and touched me."

Re-Think Food

2010-04-21T09:31:00.001-07:00

I have been on a new adventure of late. (I have been dying to work "of late" into a sentence...sounds sort-of European, no?) I digress--back to the adventure. Baby girl has a confirmed allergy to dairy, and since she is feasting on mommy's milk, that means no milk or dairy products for me, either. Those who know me well know I love cows. Literally. I once collected all cow decor like it was my part-time job. I don't do that anymore, but I still love cows. Bigger baby girl has a cow carseat to prove it. I love milk...and cheese...and chocolately, milky creations...and tiramisu...and CHEESECAKE!! When the pediatrician first mentioned me going on a dairy fast, I snickered and said, "Nah, I don't think so." When she later told me it wasn't an option, I groaned and but-but-but-ed to no avail. "Looks like we are going dairy-free," I told the hubbers. To which I received the following reply: "Yeah, right. You can do it, but I am not giving up milk. If I was going to be stranded on an island and could only bring one thing, I would bring milk. You can't live without milk. Look it up." One dreadful and small fortune extracting visit to Whole Foods, and I came home in tears. There must be something we can do. It cannot be this difficult to find things without milk products. Oh, but it is. Milk products are in bread, chicken broth, NON-dairy creamer, cereal. Even McDonald's fries are cooked in a concoction that contains milk! At first, I began by replacing my highly processed foods with dairy free options--dairy-free Oreo-like cookies, dairy-free crackers, and you know I found dairy-free burritos. But then, I began to do research, and I kept stumbling into Kosher. That's right, kosher, as in the Jewish food laws (kashrut). I was reminded how aware of what they are eating Kosher-keeping people are. Everything is scrutinized and examined. Everything that goes into a food matters. And Kosher tracks what has dairy and what does not--so that the laws of cross-contamination are kept (milk products cannot be in foods with certain other products). So, I've been reading up on Kosher and the various symbols that mark foods, and it has me thinking...What has happened to us as a society when we no longer notice what is going into our bodies? Sure, we're aware of fat and calories and recently, trans fat and whole grains. But most of this is out of a sense of protection--protecting our bodies from fat and disease. What I have found in looking at Kosher foods is that food becomes a way to honor God through the way we nourish ourselves. It is a reminder of the basic supplication, "Give us this day our daily bread." The word "kosher" comes from the Hebrew for "appropriate." Being conscious of what I have been eating has been a way of testing food's appropriateness. Is the order of fries from McD's really appropriate? Is the pizza I ordered out because I was too tired to cook appropriate? Is it fitting to eat? Is it fitting for me to eat? We Methodists have been on an appropriateness kick with re-thinking church. Is how we have been doing church appropriate to nourish the souls of people in a changing world? Is it fitting for the ones we've been called to reach, or just for ourselves?
Through this adventure, there are some who have offered their unsolicited opinion of the appropriateness of what I am eating--or not: "Just put the baby on formula. It is fine." As a mom, I know I can do better than just fine. I can be aware of what I am eating and make sure baby girl is nourished in the best way possible.
There are those in the church adventure who offer their opinions of appropriate nourishment, too: "Feed your soul in whatever way you want, but don't do it in my church. That's just not--ahem--'kosher' here." I'm just wondering if we all might benefit from some old school kosher education?

Skin

2010-04-06T11:08:00.000-07:00

During those difficult teenage years when I was blessed with acne, my mother would tell me I was beautiful and lucky. Lucky? "Lucky," she said, "because when you are old, the bad stuff will be gone, and you won't get wrinkles." So, I hoped and hoped for the day I would get "old" and the skin would work itself out: acne-free and wrinkle-free. I'm old-er, and I do have wrinkles--on my belly from the stretching of skin as my children grew within me--and around my eyes from days of squinting at a computer--and on my forehead from thinking too hard and worrying too much. What does my skin say about me? Does it say that I am perfect, that my body is free from flaw? Does it say that I have had nothing hard to deal with in life? If it's either perfection or wrinkles that I have to choose between, I choose wrinkles. People with wrinkles are interesting. They have lived. They have experienced joy and sorrow and somehow made it through both. Wrinkles are a badge of honor for a life that didn't overcome the liver. When faced with harsh realities of life, the liver, absorbed them, dug in, and held on. The very best kind of wrinkles are those at the corners of the mouth--lines that etch the good memories and laughter. These lines keep the beautiful moments alive.

Toward Newness

2010-02-25T06:50:00.000-08:00

I started this blog as a way to connect with people in the pews during the week. Since that time, I have found other ways to meet that need, I think. Lately, God has been prompting me to change the purpose and format of this blog somewhat. It has been a struggle to find things to write about at times because I have tried to make this a min-sermon type of blog. I feel now God is leading me in a different direction... and here's why... I have never had a good relationship with numbers. They mock me; the elude me; I do not like them. The written word, on the other hand, inspires me, fills me, brings me joy. And I have been neglecting that burning need within me to write--I have made this about forming the right words rather than letting the words that are already there come through me. Also, for me, writing is a spiritual discipline. Much as people sit in a quiet room and pray, I find sitting in a noisy room and finding my center through a few meaningful words to be a very prayer-filled exercise. Writing is a way I ground myself in the whirlwind of thoughts that fill my mind. On another note...for several years, I have been toying with the idea of writing a book. I haven't yet figured out the definitive form of this book--and I'm not even sure it happens that way (setting out with an idea in mind and making that idea come to life). So, this blog will now be my personal reflections, musings, ideas, thoughts, prayers, poems, maybe even some images that I find inspiring. I will not be speaking in any particular role: pastor, wife, friend, daughter. I will just be myself, speaking whatever comes to mind. I will not "censor" my thoughts to see if they are mini-sermon worthy. I will simply let the words flow through me and see where God leads me. You are welcome to come along for the ride, to eavesdrop, to ponder, to comment, but know that this is now primarily about how I feed myself. If you are able to find a morsel, as well, that's a bonus, but not my goal. Thank you for following and reading, and I invite you to continue. May you, too, find that something that burns within you and draws you closer to the divine.

If you are looking for that spiritual food, you are welcome to join the discussion group on Facebook (Center-Salem SermonTalkBack).

She

2010-02-09T06:57:00.000-08:00

This video captures what I think we all know but need reminding from time to time. God is neither male nor female, yet has characteristics we associate with being male and female. I know this, but still, I find myself picturing that old white guy with a beard. I guess I found it comforting to think of God like a protective grandfatherly figure. This God seemed safe and approachable. This God seemed knowable. But this God(the one I had created in my mind), became harder to relate to. How could I ask this old Grandfather to help me raise my children, balance my life, find rest and Sabbath, relate to my husband, enjoy my girlfriends? How could this God actually know what it is like to be stressed out in the way women are often stressed out? How could this God possibly understand all the demands on me as a wife, a mother,a woman in ministry? I found myself thinking, "Yeah, I know you are there for me. But you are one of them. You're not like me. I know you feel for me, but you've never actually been here, so I guess there's nothing to say about this." I didn't, I couldn't see God as a woman, because that would be just as bad as seeing God with a beard. So, that's where I stopped for a while. But then, I began to make some important connections. That unconditional love you have for a child who just looked at you defiantly and did something you told her was bad for her. I could see God scooping me up and embracing me even though I had broken his trust. That gut wrenching feeling when you see someone you care about in pain. I could see God weeping and wailing, frustrated and feeling helpless. The moments when your heart gets ripped open by a harsh word, an argument, someone's judgments about you, or any of the other ways people let us down or go out of their way to break us down. I can see God's disappointment, agony, feelings of betrayal. Compassion, healing, comforting, patience, trust, hope, unconditional love. Gifts we women get from the God who created us in God's image.

This Blog is On Hold...

2009-10-22T07:46:00.001-07:00

....until after baby arrives! See you in January! In the meantime, you might check out the blogs in my list to the left. They are good ones!

Friday Five (Fun New Posts)

2009-09-11T07:40:00.000-07:00

As a member of a girl preacher blog-ring (an online sharing of our blogs), I am beginning to share the Friday blog starters and my answers here each week. On Fridays, one member gives five thought provoking and light-hearted questions to which I will post my responses. Just for fun! Enjoy what you learn about me!

Today's Friday Five: Jammies
Because it is getting cooler, we are getting into PJ season.
Without going to TMI land, share with us your sleepwear memories and preferences....

1. What was your favorite sleeping attire as a child? And did you call them pjs, pajamas (to rhyme with llamas), pajamas (to sort of rhyme with bananas), jammies, or ???
Jammies is what I called them but they were actually nightgowns or the famous eighties "underoo" sets. And I had some Big Bird Slippers that I loved, too!

2. Favorite sleepwear put on your own little ones, or perhaps those you babysat? .

Sleepers with feet on them. So cute!

3. How about today-do you prefer nightgown, pajamas, undies, or au naturel?

Pj's. Actual pj's is what I prefer, but I don't have a wide selection, so often it is sweats and tees when the pj's are in the wash. And cute pj's that is--none of this wearing the husband's oversize sleepwear or granny's mumu.

4. Silky smooth or flannel-y cozy?

Either silky or cozy but never flannel or fuzzy. Eww.

5. Socks or bare feet?

Bare feet! Socks are too hot!

The Discipline of Surprise

2009-09-10T07:27:00.000-07:00

It probably comes as no shock to those of my readers who really know me that I hate surprises. I cajole my husband to open at least one Christmas gift early each year. I want to know what happens next in life. I have a plan, a dream, a goal, a vision, and I work toward it. It is comforting to know that I will not be smacked in the face with something unexpected because if I am expecting something, even if it is something negative, I have at least prepared myself for the impact, I have braced myself for the hurt or embarrassment or discomfort, and I have at least considered one or two helpful responses to whatever the thing is. But surprises are ridiculous. They have a way of showing up in your life unannounced, with no preparation, no explanation. There they are, plopped right in the middle of my ordered world, just to confound me, to throw me off my otherwise predictable course. What is it about the unexpected that gets me so worked up? I have tried so often to get to the root of my phobia, but I can't really come up with a suitable explanation. I think it's because in knowing everything I can about everything that will happen, I am hoping to create some sort of barrier against the surprises that cause trouble and giving myself an extra time of celebration for the would-be surprises that induce joy. Particularly, this latter category has dominated my thoughts lately--let's say for the last 32 weeks. With only 8 weeks to go of pregnancy, this pact that the hubs and I have for not knowing the gender is driving me positively mad. I must know. I must. You just don't understand. I have tried all sorts of reasoning techniques...I must know because it will help us to plan for the baby (there really isn't much selection in the gender neutral department, because let's face it, none of us are actually content to be surprised about anything anymore). I must know because it will help me bond with the baby--knowing whether I am talking to a baby boy or baby girl. I must know because it's like carrying around this tremendous gift for 10 months without even peeling back the wrapping paper to get a sneak peek. I must know because everyone else in my life wants to know--they won't stop asking me until I do know. Lame excuses, I know, but I have done my best to support these as my banners for pre-knowledge. I think what it really is that drives me up the wall with this scenario is the discipline part of it. Let me be totally honest and say that we had this pact 2 years ago when expecting our first child, and I cheated. I made it to the end of the ultrasound and sent the husband out of the room so the technician could tell me the gender. I couldn't take the discipline of waiting. So, this time around, I thought I would give it another go, see how the old school way worked out. But it's the discipline that's so hard. To have the ability to do something but to choose not to do it. That works in most areas of my life, but there are some places, I'll admit, that I choose to do something I have promised someone I would not....nothing huge, just the occasional new pair of shoes I shouldn't spend money on or the across-town trip to the burrito place I shouldn't make. When it comes to discipline, though, does it really matter if it is a big or small breach of discipline? Luke 16:10 says: "If you're honest in small things,
you'll be honest in big things." (The Message) I write this as I anxiously await an ultrasound this afternoon, a very big temptation to be faithful (or not) in the small things. Looking to God to help me be disciplined so that I might experience a joyful surprise.

Sometimes You Just Need a Little Magic

2009-08-03T13:09:00.000-07:00

Last week was the unofficial "babymoon" and a sort-of last minute vacation before things get really hairy around here. The destination: Happiest Place on Earth. At least, that's what the hubby calls it. He has been to Disney so many times that he could be a tour guide. While I enjoy the place, I can't say I have the same passion for the sprawling kid-town as he does. I wondered how this much needed vacay would prove to be relaxing. I was thinking crowds and heat and lines and kids everywhere (We went sans-toddler!) But, as the bus pulled up to the "Pacific Northwest," I think I finally got some of that inexplicable giddiness. There are no worries; there are no plans; there is no rush; there is no stress. There is only magic. The magic of being a kid again. The magic of enjoying each moment as it comes. The magic of new experiences. The magic of friendship. And I realized something important: sometimes we all need a little magic in our lives. While we might not get it from the same places, we all need it. We need to know that, in the midst of all the chaos and hurt in the world, surprises of grace abound, if we are willing to look at the world "just so." And if we do this, we might be surprised to find magic, even joy waiting for us to choose them.

Henri Nouwen says it best: "Joy is what makes life worth living, but for many joy seems hard to find. They complain that their lives are sorrowful and depressing. What then brings the joy we so much desire? Are some people just lucky, while others have run out of luck? Strange as it may sound, we can choose joy. Two people can be part of the same event, but one may choose to live it quite differently than the other. One may choose to trust that what happened, painful as it may be, holds a promise. The other may choose despair and be destroyed by it. . .What makes us human is precisely this freedom of choice. Joy does not simply happen to us. We have to choose joy and keep choosing it every day. It is a choice based on the knowledge that we belong to God and have found in God our refuge and our safety and that nothing, not even death, can take God away from us."

Reflections on a Year in Ministry

2009-07-17T07:40:00.000-07:00

The end of last month marked the end of the first year at this appointment. I could measure it by the calendar: days--365, months--12, hours--8760. I could measure it by tasks: hundreds of phone calls, thousands of emails, pounds of paperwork. I could measure it in connections: hospital visits, home visits, baptisms, too many funerals. But, I think the best way to measure this year of ministry together with the people of God in this place is to reflect on the glimpses of the Kingdom we saw together. Meals made to comfort families in grief--showed the comforting love of God the Father. Words of love and support expressed to families in need of hope--showed the power of prayer among the faithful. Mission teams going to serve--showed the hands and feet of Christ at work. Families invited into the family--showed the relentless love of God to continuously pursue us. Sharing the meal of the Lord--a taste of what is to come. In all of these moments, and in others we may have overlooked, God has been among us and continues to be among us as the people of God.

Changing You, Changing Me

2009-05-28T08:02:00.000-07:00

Julianne Hough More CMT Music More CMT Music Videos

Earlier in the week, I was reading an article about a seemingly secular person. It was the story of a celebrity stuggling with cancer and her faith. Sorry, but when I think Hollywood, I do not immediately think, "people of faith." In fact, I tend to think the opposite--terribly judgmental on my part--but it's the truth. So, when I read these words: "She is a firm believer in miracles and has not given up on the power of God," I wasn't sure what to make of it...considering the source. But then, I begin to think of all the folks I know who are praying for a miracle, and not just praying but hoping and believing, almost expecting a miracle. And that got me to thinking, "What exactly is a miracle anyway?" Is it God changing your circumstances? Making the pain or the cancer or the rotten situation go away? Is it God fixing your problems? I believe in miracles....but not in the traditional sense. I believe that a miracle is the power of God that transforms someone's life. In essence, believing, praying, loving, trusting God changes things. Believing changes the believer. Her outlook is different. Her joy is stronger. Her hope is centered. Her focus is clear. Her eyes are on her Savior. And that's the miracle.

Forgiveness Like a Child

2009-05-28T07:42:00.000-07:00

I realize that many of my posts involve parenthood, and that's because being "mommy" is teaching me so much about being "faithful." The innocence of a child so often speaks to me on a faith level. Last week, we moved our little one to a new daycare, which meant she had to say goodbye to her friends at the old daycare. I took her by for what I thought would be over her head--maybe she would wave bye-bye, but that would be it. So, it was a shock to see her run over and hug her friends. She understood, at least a little, that this was a bye-bye moment and that she needed to do something special. It was the first time I had ever seen her hug another person, so it didn't all compute right away. But later, when I was thinking back on it, I remembered the shocking person she had hugged. In my parental pride for her new accomplishment, I had missed a theological moment. Since she had been going to this daycare, one little boy had continuously shown aggression toward her. He scratched my precious baby's face and eyes. He was a bully. He was bigger than her, older than her, and she was not yet walking so was unable to get away from him. The workers began to separate him from her because he would go after her to release his aggression. I'll admit I am being a little overly dramatic in the description of these events--it was probably not premeditated and just an older child's way of treating someone as he had been treated, but still, it's my baby, so it's a big deal. Anyway, when I would see this child at daycare, I would think, "There's the little bully." I only assumed that my sweet girl would have the same thoughts about her classmate, that she would not want to be near him. But the day we went on our bye-bye visit, she ran up to little bully man, threw her arms around him, and they both giggled. They were friends! I didn't even notice this until the replay in my mind. And as I hit rewind, I was irked that she didn't get who he was. Why was she hugging the little bully man who hurt her? And then, I hit rewind with my "preacher's cap" on, and I realized, to her, he wasn't little bully man, he was a friend, with whom she'd had some problems, but none too big that they couldn't forgive each other and still be friends. Her heart does not carry with it the baggage that mine does. I still think of my own little bully man, and I think it may be many years before he and I shall hug, but it is my prayer that God would make my heart more like the one of a little child. Who was it that said, "To enter the kingdom, you must become like a child"?

Putting Away the Eggs?

2009-04-15T12:07:00.000-07:00

At Christmas, people like to take their trees down right away. It seems unstylish to have something out that represents something that has already happened--like you are behind the times or something. The world wants to have its Christmas and move on. The same is true at Easter. Even though the stores put out the paraphernalia the day after Valentine's Day, on Easter day itself, candies and Easter items go on sale. The stores want to move them out. I can't say that I am all that better than these--my daughter has been playing "Easter egg hunt" since Saturday. When she is presented with her plethora of toys, she chooses her basket and wanders around the house in search of eggs. It really is cute. I love that she is so enamored with such a simple thing, but a teensy bit of me, probably an unmeasurable bit, but still a minute whisper in the back of my mind thinks, "How long will she actually do this? Will she be playing egg hunt in July? And should I let her?" But that small part of me has forgotten that Easter is not a passing date on the calendar. In fact, the church celebrates Easter for 50 days...all the way up until Pentecost (in late May). The miracle doesn't stop on Easter Monday. We sing "Christ the Lord is Risen Today," only that one day, as if it was that day, as if he is not still risen today, as if he won't still be risen tomorrow. I guess what I am thinking from watching my girl play is this--we should hang onto Easter, because the celebration is always with us.

Worst Case Scenario

2009-03-25T06:28:00.000-07:00

Someone once said in a sermon (and it wasn't me): "Fear is the opposite of trust." In theory, I agree with that statement. In theory. But putting it into practice is a much different story. I don't have trust issues. I am a trusting person. I have fear issues, and I don't think the two are necessarily related. I can have all the fear I want and still trust, right? That could possibly be the most absurd thing I have ever said. Of course the two are related. Then, how can I put into practice the faith and trust I preach when I am often plagued by a fear or worry that dominates the center of my being?
There have been times in my life when I have been blindsided by something I never saw coming, hurt to the tips of my toes. I think over time, as a protective reflex, I have developed this sense of fear and worry to keep the blindsiding things at bay. I think subconsciously, or maybe even a little consciously, I have devised this method to be in control of the things around me through fear. If I worry about something, then I know what the possible outcomes are, and I cannot be caught off guard. And so, time after time, when I have been led to a situation beyond my control and have been beckoned to trust, I turn to the worry instead, the worst case scenario.
It helps me to realize I am not alone in my neurotic tendencies, that I am not the only one to struggle with fear and trust. Last week, our Bishop sent a letter to all the ministers concerning this very thing--fear and worry, and he referenced a passage from Paul's letter to the Philippians: “Don’t fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense of God’s wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down. It’s wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life.” (Philippians 4,The Message Bible Paraphrase). I am thankful for this scriptural reminder of how to put the faith into practice...let Christ displace the worry at the center of my life. And that's a best case scenario.

Shredding as a Means of Grace

2009-02-19T06:21:00.000-08:00

John Wesley, who started the small groups that led to the formation of the Methodist Church (i.e. the "founder" of the Methodist denomination) preached on and practiced the "means of grace." He gave the title "means of grace" to particular Christian practices that convey grace to the person practicing them. Among the means of grace are communion, conferencing (getting together to discuss our faith and how it relates to our lives), prayer, reading God's Word, fasting, and visiting the poor and imprisoned. By doing these things, Wesley believed that the heart would be more and more strangely warmed to loving God, receiving God's love, and sharing God's love with others. I was doing something the other day, which began as a benign office task, but was transformed into what I think was a holy event. I'll even go so far as to say it was a means of grace for me. I needed to clean and organize my office. It had gotten cluttered with junk mail and catalogs and several months worth of paperwork that needed to be filed. I broke out the shredder and got busy, getting rid of things that I no longer needed. As the zzzzzzzzchhhhhhhhhch of the shredder hummed along, I started noticing something--it seemed there was more room in my life again. There was physically more room in my office and on my desk, but there was also this strange feeling that there was also more room in my mind and heart. I started to feel the urge to get to praying and to get to studying God's Word. I was energized with the Spirit again. As I tried to come to terms with what was going on--how did God show up in this office organization task?--I realized the enormity of the "stuff" I had let clutter my life and my heart. With them gone, I had room for God again. It's funny how the physical "stuff" can come between us and God. And then I started thinking about the emotional baggage and clutter we all carry. What if we took all the hurtful words, the bruised egos, the devastating news, the humiliating events, the painful memories and fed them down the hatch of the shredder? What if we destroyed these things before they destroyed us? What if we got rid of these things before letting them sit around in our hearts? wouldn't we have more room for love? Wouldn't we have more room for forgiveness? Maybe I need a shredder for my heart, too...

Facebook has changed my life...

2009-02-10T14:26:00.000-08:00

I know, it sounds really lame...Facebook? A life changing application? A social network can do that? Well, for me, it has changed some things in my life. Not a cataclysmic overhaul but some subtle changes that have been good for me. First, let me admit for all the blogosphere to see, that I am addicted (a little) to Facebook. I have the app on my phone. I check it throughout the day. I have, on occasion (when driving alone ) fb'ed while driving. And yes, I both abbreviate Facebook using FB, and I use FB as a verb. I need help, I know.
I joined Facebook initially because my brother and sister-in-law were on it, and I wanted to keep in better touch with them. But soon, a whole world was opened up to me that I couldn't have imagined some pointing and clicking could possibly do. I found and reconnected with friends I haven't heard from in years. I have been able to learn about their lives and get to know them better now. And there are some people who have friend requested me, that I don't really know that well. We were college classmates, or we worked together for a period of time. I have found myself using Facebook as a way to be intentional with my intercessory prayer--prayer for people other than myself. I see the status updates with messages of worry, stress, lost loved ones, fear, pregnancy announcements, career successes, and on and on, and I have begun to pray for my FB friends...the old friends with whom I've reconnected, the new friends who I'm still getting to know, and the acquaintences, too. I find it a refreshing way to pray and a testament to the power of God to work in ways we could never imagine. God working through FB. That's pretty awesome, if you ask me. So, if you FB, and you add me as a friend, update your stat, and I'll pray for you (although I am probably already doing that), and when I update mine, maybe you could share some words with the Lord on my behalf.

Jesus and Grandma Laugh

2009-02-10T14:08:00.000-08:00

I've been having a hard time these last couple of weeks putting all the tumults of my emotions in words, but I have felt a tugging on my heart to say something about the loss of my Grandma. And I keep coming back to two very different, yet similar places--tears and laughter. One of the best, most lovable things about Grandma was her laugh. People say Julia Roberts has a contagious laugh, but I will tell you, and I may be biased, but she has nothing on my Grandma. When Grandma would laugh, it wasn't uncontrollable, side-splitting giggles. It was a deep and warm laugh that invited you in. It wasn't as if she had some secret joke you didn't know about. It was that she was so happy about something she just couldn't stop reliving the joy of the moment. So, she would laugh and laugh, and when you thought she was finished, she'd keep on laughing. Sounds crazy, but if you could inherit laughs, I wish I had Grandma's. It made you want to be a part of the love she had in her heart, and it made me want to spend more and more time with her. It reminds me of this art piece that I love--the one showing Jesus laughing. Though I'm not sure this is exactly what Jesus would have looked like, the features don't matter so much. It's the laugh that draws me in. I don't know why we sometimes talk and think about Jesus as if he's some lifeless, serious bore. I think Jesus was one who delighted in life and in love and invited you to share in it. Seeing this depiction of Jesus laughing makes me want to spend more time with him. May God bless us all with people in our lives who cause us to smile, who laugh with us, who share joy with us. May God bring his own joy and laughter into your heart.

Enough in '09

2009-01-13T11:37:00.000-08:00

First, forgive me for my blog-absence the last few weeks. This time, it was intentional. I needed rest and respite, and that involved giving my mind a rest, too. Second, I'll share with you something I learned over my resting period. I learned that I don't know how to rest and I don't know how to be present--and these two are related to each other and to my trust in God.

I was on day 3 of vacation. The season of Advent had ended. The craziness of the family get-togethers for Christmas had passed. I was away from work. I was away from the rest of the world. But still, I found myself saying, "I am worried about this, and I am concerned about that. And what happens if this happens? And what happens if that happens?" My husband pointed out that we were on vacation and politely asked if I could put these thoughts away until we returned home. I didn't mention them aloud again, but there they were in the recesses of my mind, nevertheless. I don't know how to rest because no matter what state of calmness and serenity, I am always looking to the "and then." I just have to----whatever it is---and then, I can relax. I just have to get the house cleaned, and then...I just have to lose ten pounds, and then...I just have to be satisfied with my life, and then...Doing this makes me unable to rest and also unable to live in the present. I am always looking beyond now to some other time in which all my worries will be gone, all my fears over, all my problems fixed.

I'm not one to make resolutions, or even to stick very well to new routines. I'm a big fan of my old habits. I love my old habits, especially the bad ones. They are the ones I want to keep. The good ones, take those. Anyone need some good habits? You can have mine. But in '09, I am hoping to make a substitution--to change out something for something better. I am hoping to purge the words "I just...and then..." and replace these with "enough." Enough. I have enough. I do enough. I am enough. Christ is more than enough for 2009 and for all of life. Happy New Year!

Mary, Were You Ready?

2008-12-21T02:41:00.000-08:00

My husband is famous for asking me brain busting questions about God and faith like a recent one: "When God created the universe, do you think he really only created life on Earth? Wouldn't he have created in other places, too? And if he did, would Jesus have come to those planets, too?" This question was one of those complex, no-real-answer-to-it questions. The other day, though, he asked me what seemed to be a relatively simple yes-or-no question: "Are you ready for Christmas?" "Yes," I said. "I am excited to see Molly's first Christmas and looking forward to spending time with family." And without saying it directly, he basically told me I had answered the wrong question. I was answering the question, "What part of the events of the 25th of December 2008 are you most anticipating?" But the question he asked was, "Are you ready for Christmas?" He then went on to explain what he was really asking, "You know, you have always wanted to proclaim the Christmas word, and now you get to do that. Now, you get to bring the hopeful word to the people, and aren't you just a little excited about that? " And so, I remind myself that it's Christmas that I am ready for, it's Christ that has me anticipating, the entrance of God into the world that makes my heart race. So I turn my eyes back more than 2 millennium, and I wonder, Mary were you ready? Were you prepared for the way that this ordinary labor and delivery would become something so much more and would profoundly change your life? Were you ready to be Mother of God? Were you ready for Christmas to come? May the joyful expectation of the Christ child and his love be yours this Christmas.

Love Actually is All Around

2008-12-12T17:11:00.000-08:00

Last Sunday, the Ladies Bible Study group decided to go Christmas caroling at Walmart....and they weren't just caroling to spread cheer. They decided that they would sing about Christ and also work for Christ by collecting money and gifts for those in need. They had a sign and a box and a bucket...and Santa hats! Anyone who knows me knows I shouldn't be allowed within ten feet of a Christmas caroling group, especially if there is money involved. But, I showed up, and donned my Santa hat, and started singing. It was incredible! People came out with bags of food to donate and dropped money into the bucket. What was especially touching was seeing the ones who seemed to have the least give the most. Later, I learned, somewhere in the bottom of the bucket was a crumpled $100 bill. But it wasn't about the money. It was about the babe in the manger. You know, the one we say it's about...the one all the songs are about. As we stood there singing "Joy to the World" and proclaiming that the Lord is King, it seemed so counter-cultural and so God-like. Let earth receive her king. Let every heart prepare him room. And there they were, those hearts preparing room. Pushing aside their wants and desires and saying, "Because of him, because he lives here, I am going to reach out to someone else." My heart was so full of true Christmas joy, my eyes started watering...darned cold wind can do that. Nah, it was the other waterworks thing....Jesus can do that! His love actually is all around. If you look for it, you'll find it. May you find it this Christmas!

Angels from the realms of glory

2008-12-04T05:30:00.000-08:00

CAUTION FOR READING...contains mature subject matter.
'Tis the season...for the Victoria's Secret fashion show. The lingerie-clad models winging their flights oer the television screen. They are dressed in festive holiday "apparel," or so I hear. Come and worship us, they beckon with their feathered wings. Your woman can look like me, too. Get her this outfit, these wings, and then worship her. I have to say, is this what Christmas has become? Is this what people look forward to? Are these the angels we want to put on high? What happened to those other angels from the realms of glory, telling the story of the Messiah's birth? And why have these ideas of womanhood become objects of worship? What about the cry of the heavenly host to come and worship Christ?
A favorite Christian author and literary hero to me is Lauren Winner. Lauren writes a great book that exposes our way of thinking about our bodies and our intimate relationships, Real Sex. In this book, she discusses the Victoria's Secret phenomenon and brings to light a telling truth about our cultural obsession with sex...she reminds us that sexual images bury themselves in our minds and in our relationships and eventually chip away at good intimacy. She says that these images teach us that real bodies aren't good enough, and that "real sex" happens only in a fantastic, other-worldly way. God, who cares enough about the people he has created, chooses to inhabit our bodies in the birth of the Christ child. And so, I'm certain, our bodies and how we approach them matter to God. I doubt these angels are what he had in mind. So, each time I am bombarded with the fluffy-winged images, I am going to remember those other angels who proclaimed a redeemed flesh--that God in our skin is here! And that he bids us choose respect and love over gratification and desire. In excelsis deo!

A Thanks-full Life

2008-11-28T17:56:00.000-08:00

A day past thanksgiving, and I still give thanks. Probably mostly because I had another "Thanksgiving" feast today, and I spent more time with family. I guess my mind's still on Thanksgiving, but is it just a holiday? Is it something that I do in late November because that's the time set aside to do it? I'll admit something about myself that is clearly not my finest feature--I am a glass-half-empty person. I am a worrier. More often than I would like, I agonize over the stressful, hard, sad, hurtful, negative things in my life--thinking about the ways life is not a thanks-full event. But I want desperately to be a person that lives in a spirit of thanking God continuously for the beauty, wonder, goodness, love, and joy that is a part of my life. So, somehow, I must get from here to there, and I know it's not just a matter of will. I can't just say I am going to give thanks again and again and expect that to actually do the trick. The pesky thing about doing this is that it will take some work on my part--a constant reminder to myself to give thanks, and continuously refocusing my gaze so that it points in the direction of hope and joy. But along the way, I think I'll be thankful for the process, too, because it will make me a better person.

I am my own pet peeve.

2008-11-20T12:45:00.000-08:00

Today is an anniversary...it marks a month since my last blog. And it is a milestone, too--a first for me. I have become that which I loathe. I am now my own pet peeve. The thing that bothers me to the point of twitching I have now done. I have a blog, and I have not updated it in a month. A MONTH. 31 days of no words. I can only imagine what devoted readers (all 3 of you!) are thinking about this lack of posts from me. On the other hand, maybe you have enjoyed the break.
Either way, it's time to get back to the blogosphere...but not because it is expected, but because it feeds my soul. It is the thing I need to connect in a real way with God. It is my jolt in faith. It keeps me awake in my spiritual life. So, why no posts? I've had this period of blogging-block. And I've decided it must come from thinking about God too much. Just like authors who can't finish a chapter because they are over-thinking the task, sometimes I find myself too much in my head when it comes to God. "Gotta think about God now. Gotta think about God now. What am I thinking about God now? Not sure what I am thinking, other than I am thinking about thinking about God. Now, what am I thinking? God, yeah, um......"
Sometimes I get God stuck in my head, and I can't get him out. I think and think and think on God, and then, when it comes to living with him, I have trouble doing it. I've learned lately that it's not the thinking that matters most (although it does matter some), but it's the being with God that matters...the opening of our lives to God...letting God bust in wherever he wants, wherever we don't want...making space for God being with us instead of God being in the jumbled mess that is sometimes my mind....letting God out of the box...allowing God to be God.
I heard this great song last week that reminded me about being God's child instead of God's editor:

STILL, YOU'RE STILL MY CHILD, BE STILL AND KNOW THAT I AM GOD; WAIT, WAIT ON MY WORD TO ANSWER QUESTIONS THAT YOU FIND SO HARD; AND REST, REST FOR A WHILE UNTIL MY SPIRIT MAKES YOU NEW; STILL, BE STILL MY CHILD, AND KNOW THAT I'LL BE GOD FOR YOU." Ed Kilbourne, "Why I'm Not Famous" Album
What a great reminder to let God be God for us and with us as I turn my heart toward Advent. Blogs are coming, but only because Jesus is coming!

Virtual Prayer

2008-10-20T09:42:00.000-07:00

The church has begun to offer the techies of the world a new way to connect with God. When Jesus says, "Go into all the world and make disciples," I think he means that we should go into all the world in all the ways possible. And if that means prayer websites offered for people to connect to God in new ways, then I think that is being faithful to our mission as God's church. We serve a living God, who reveals himself to us in ways we can understand. So, when people were drawing on caves in symbols, God revealed himself there. When people were telling the stories we now read in the Bible aloud, passing these oral traditions down through the generations, God revealed himself there. When the faithful were following Jesus and hearing his sermons and parables, God revealed himself there. When the church fathers came together to put the stories into written form, bound together in the canon, God revealed himself there. And now, as people are online all the time, delving into the virtual, God can reveal himself there. Now, just as all the things written and said in the name of God over the years didn't reflect the love of God, I don't believe that all websites offered in God's name are truly representative of the love of God. But I have added links to my blog of a few I think remain faithful to the calling, "Go into all the world and make disciples." Feel free to check them out, and send me your own picks.

I Brought You Into This World...

2008-10-20T09:18:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite old school t.v. shows is The Cosby Show. I can't find reruns on much now, but when I do, I love watching. I love seeing the family dynamics and how the Huxstable clan works out parenting and marriage. It's great! I especially love when Cliff (aka "dad") tells his kids, "I brought you into this world, and I can take you out!" It makes me laugh because I think he's saying this to remind the kids that they don't run their own world. I baptized Molly last Sunday, and in addition to the craziness that last week brought with Charge Conference preparations, it really took me a week to process what happened in that sacrament-day.

For the first couple of months that I was a mommy, for many reasons, I was discouraged in being fully a mom and fully a pastor. Some people told me I couldn't--and shouldn't--do both. And I began to believe them. I started to internalize all of this so much so that I began hiding the "mommy" part of me so that I could be "reverend." Even though all my life I had felt called to be a mother, somehow, I convinced myself that all God really wanted from me was fulfilling the calling in ministry. Then, I started to prepare to offer my daughter the sacrament, to cleanse her from her original sin. And something changed. Some might call it divine intervention, but I call it the awesome power and revelation of God. As I got myself ready to mark my little girl with God's grace, I remembered what baptism is really about.

In the Methodist Church, we have a special way of talking about baptism--we say it's the marking of the child with God's prevenient grace, and it's the initiation into God's kingdom. Prevenient grace is the grace of God that is there for us before we even realize we need it. It's God's love poured out for us in the waters of baptism, and when a child is washed in this water, the gap between God and this child is bridged, and she becomes "initiated" into his Kingdom. That means that this is the beginning of her journey of faith, and those also on the journey will nurture her and show her the ways and the love of God. In a way, God had some prevenient grace for me in all of this. When my breaking heart kept calling out to God to show me that I could be a "reverend mommy," a mom and a pastor, and still be faithful to God, God was answering me, saying, "I'm already there. I already have grace for you in that. I made you a mother, and I made you a pastor. Why do you doubt my grace?" What a life-changing perspective for me!

One of my pastor friends said to me about being the reverend mommy who baptizes her daughter, "Now you can tell her, I brought you into this world, and I washed away your original sin....and I can put it back on you!" That last part was a joke. But the first is powerful...I brought her into the world, and I brought her into the Kingdom. What a privilege and a blessing.

One of "Those" Christians and Our God

2008-10-08T13:34:00.000-07:00

I spent a wonderful day last Saturday at Carowinds with some youth and adults. It was Christian music day, so the park was filled with "good Christian folk." Throughout the day, I overheard conversations with some of these strangers (yet brothers and sisters in Christ) and I got a little perturbed. Some of these Christians tick me off. They talk about God as if they own him and say how wonderful God is, but then they talk about other people in a way I'm sure God would not. They also paint the disturbing picture of a God who is like a vengeful, evil wizard and who zaps people who sin. When I hear these Christians, I think to myself, "How dare they make God out to be like that? And do they think they are really that holy?" Much as these Christians bug me, I am often one of them. I am often a person painting an inaccurate portrait of our God. I am reminded of my own imperfect ideas of God, and I am reminded that I am not the authority on who God is. As a pastor, I am the authority on the church, in a small respect, but in the grand scheme of our faith in our God, I am no authority at all. I am simply a believer, like the rest of those Christians, God's children. I am simply loved by our God, like the rest of those Christians (and even those non-Christians, too). As evidence of my not-an-authority on the nature of God, and my own shortfalls in the faith, I recently finished a great book about God: The Shack. Without giving too much away for those of you who haven't read it, The Shack is a book that gives the reader a vivid picture of God's love for us. As I read, I found myself secretly asking, "Can God really be that good? Can eternity with God really be like that?" And there I was, one of God's children, not understanding his love and not believing in his goodness. So, the next time I go eavesdropping on conversations, I need to remember that I'm one of those children of God who misses the point, who lacks faith and understanding, but I'm one of all of God's children who is loved...anyway.

There's No "God" in Charge Conference

2008-10-08T10:43:00.000-07:00

Mrs Jarena Lee , Preacher of the A.M.E. Church, Aged 60 years in the 11th day of the 2nd month 1844, Philadelphia 1844

In the spirit of the motivational slogan, "There's no 'I' in team," I'm throwing this one out there: "There's no 'God' in Charge Conference." Literally, the word, "God," cannot be spelled out of the letters of the words: "Charge Conference." For those of you non-Methodists reading this post, bless your hearts, Charge Conference is another term for tons and tons of administrative paperwork, record-keeping, and yearly reports culminating in a meeting sometime in the fall. For many of us pastors, Charge Conference is the bane of our existence...I am only just learning what a bane it is, as this is my first official Charge Conference in which I am responsible for compiling, seeking out, and producing copies of said reports, records, and paperwork. My play on words aside, in the last month, I have really come to express my thoughts that God can't have any part in Charge Conference preparations...they are so rigid, so orderly, and well, doesn't the Bible say something about love keeping no records, and if God is love, then??...you get the picture. I am grasping at straws for some way to allow myself just a little bit of hatred for all of this business. I want God to say to me, "You know, it really doesn't matter. Don't worry your pretty little head over it." But in actuality, God has been saying something quite different. I've tried putting my fingers in my ears to drown out the words, but still God says to me:"There is something holy about this work you're doing. There is discipline there, and you need discipline in your life. There is hope in the numbers and the reports and the record-keeping, because it is in these details that we see I [God] am still at work, and that my church is still working toward my[God's] kingdom." Much as I'd like not to hear it, this work of Charge Conference is important. And, I'll go ahead and say it, there is grace in Charge Conference. Literally, the letters of the word, "grace" are there, but realistically, God's grace is there, too. In all of the details of the life of the church, there is the gift of God's love. There is the church. There is a bit of evidence for the Kingdom. There's a connection of the past and the present church, and much like this photograph of an early Methodist preacher shows, we're all a part of the connection. There's a reminder of where we have been and a looking forward to where we will someday be. Now, I'll try to remember that as I stop procrastinating and get back to the grace-filled business of Charge Conference preparations.

P.S.: For those of you saints who have helped in the completion of above-mentioned forms and records, God bless you and grant you many stars in your crowns!

Why I Want To Be a Sushi Girl

2008-09-26T11:16:00.000-07:00

I want to be a Sushi Girl. You know them. You've seen them--all svelte and glamorous, quirky and interesting, munching on their California Rolls. So, I took myself to Whole Foods the other day, and I lamely asked the sushi chef what a fish-hating, non-weird-food-eating, uncool, non-glam girl could try at the sushi counter. He suggested the Crab, but I argued with him. Yep, I argued with the sushi chef, the sushi connoisseur himself about what I should try. "I don't like crab," I said. "Not a good choice." He laughed. "How about the California Roll?" I said. "Shrimp and avocado and cucumber wrapped in rice, I can handle that."

As I opened my chopsticks and smothered the round pieces with salty Soy Sauce, I blessed my food: "Thank you, Lord, for this sushi. I hope it is delicious. But remember, Lord, I have to make a visit at the hospital after this. Lord, please don't let me throw up."

I sat there and ate my sushi feeling pretty smug, pretty cool actually. I could picture myself being photographed by the paparazzi. Just kidding on that last part. Truthfully, I enjoyed the California Roll. It wasn't my favorite thing, and I won't become a regular, but it was okay.

What I enjoyed more was The Sushi Experience. Some of us in this world are "Type A": we get stuck in a rut of how things have to be, and everything always has to happen in the way we expect. So, The Sushi Experience got me to let go a little bit, to move outside my own sense of what is comfortable, beyond my own understanding of food, and toward a little bit of quirkiness. It helped me realize that life is way more interesting if we just let go and try something different sometimes.

And The Sushi Experience got me to thinking about my faith, too. I know it sounds cheesy, but it's true. How much more interesting would my life of faith be if I tried a little "sushi" sometimes? How much more full would my faith be if I let God live in me instead of in the box I put him in? How much deeper would my relationship with God be if I just let go and let him show me something different, something quirky? But there I stand at the counter, arguing with God about what is best and what is good. I want to be a Sushi Girl. I want that very much.

What Molly is Getting for Christmas

2008-09-25T06:54:00.000-07:00

As we watch our children grow, it's very natural to think about who we wish for them to become...and who we wish for them not to become. When I think about the person--the woman--I want my daughter to become, I don't think within boundaries or stereotypes as far as what may be acceptable or politically correct. My husband and I sometimes dream about her being a brilliant scientist who cures AIDS and cancer. While these are noble occupations, I think about the person I want her to become--a kindhearted, loving, compassionate, open-minded, Christ-like person. And that makes me think about vocation--being called to something more than a job. And when Molly plays and dreams about who she will become, I want her to imagine being a Christ-like person who so loves the world.
So, that's why if I can find them, this first Christmas, Molly is going to get Clergy Barbies. When she plays with them, and when she interacts with the world, I hope she will see beyond the roles and stereotypes we have created and look toward becoming a person who loves like Christ does. I hope she'll play with them and think of me, not that I am any closer to being like Christ than anyone else, but I am a good Methodist. And we Method-ists believe that by putting love in action as a method of living, some sweet day Christ will make us perfect in his love. I hope she'll pick up Clergy Faith or Clergy Grace and think, let's do what mommy tries to do. Let's do what Jesus does. Let's love people. And that's all I could ever want for her to become.

A Purell Addict Meets the Bishop

2008-09-19T12:33:00.000-07:00

This week, the clergy and lay people in our district had the opportunity to spend a little time with our new Bishop. It was a truly enjoyable experience, except for one thing...I think I heard him say there's no room for germ-o-phobes (like myself) in the Kingdom of God. He even quoted scripture. In John 14, Jesus says: "The one who believes in me will do the works that I do, and I tell you, even greater works." The Bishop went on to talk about how Jesus was touching the untouchables, loving on the lepers, and that the church and the followers of Jesus haven't been doing that as much as we should. Ouch. He said we have to find out who the lepers are in our communities (the ones who have been labelled "unclean"), and go out and touch them. Touch them? Are you nuts? Is that even legal? Is that wise? Is that really necessary for us to follow Jesus? The Bishop reminded us that this is truly what it means to share Christ with the world--to touch a bit of brokenness and uncleanness with the love of Christ. I have a little problem with doing just what the Bishop and Jesus are instructing me to do. I hate germs and dirt...it's been that way since I was a kid sitting on the edge of the sandbox, putting only my hands in the sand. And whenever I'm confronted with things--or people--who aren't as generally "clean" as I'd prefer, I get a little antsy. And I try to pretty things up. I sanitize. I organize. I makeover. I rearrange. I change things. I try to change people, too, I confess. And I even go so far as to try to hide my own uncleanness. So, it's all a little overwhelming for me to go out there and get dirty and get to being like Jesus. It weirds me out--a lot. But shouldn't it be a little bit uncomfortable to share the Gospel? Shouldn't we get sort-of nervous about doing the work--and even greater work--than the Son of God? It sounds like if I am ever going to be a part of the Kingdom, my germ-o-phobia, and my being-like-Jesus-phobia have got to go.

A Hug for Lunch

2008-09-11T17:56:00.000-07:00

Today, I stopped for lunch at a place I rarely visit because it isn't very easy to get into during the lunch hour. Today's lunch was a late one, though, so I decided to stop in. I have a new rule about eating--no eating in the car (we'll see how long that lasts). I've decided to impose this particular rule upon myself because lately I have found myself rushing through meals while driving, while on the computer or phone, or while holding my daughter (A few times, Molly has gotten a little remnant of the meal on her head!) I decided that I need to take more time with eating for my body's well-being and for my spirit's well-being. So, with my new rule in tow, I went into the restaurant instead of hitting the drive-through. As soon as I walked in, one of the people taking orders said, "I know you!" It was an old friend from high school. I haven't seen her in many years. She was so glad to see me that she came out from behind the counter and hugged me. Then, with tears in her eyes she said, "God is so good. Sometimes I'm not sure if I'm in the right job, but then, God sends someone I care about into the store, and I am just so happy." I have to say, I wasn't prepared for such a greeting. I didn't think that my presence in restaurant at 3 pm would make anyone's day. I didn't think it would make my day either, but it did. This was a person I knew in high school, but not a close friend. I never thought of myself as someone memorable. So, today, it was good to see someone who knew me long ago,who remembers me, and who welcomed me in a warm hug. Maybe, that's a little like how it is with Jesus and me, too. He's someone who knew me long ago, and he remembers me. He's glad to see me, even when it's not my own idea. He welcomes me with a warm hug, hoping it won't be so long the next time I slow down and come inside for a visit.

Family Portrait

2008-09-04T10:39:00.000-07:00

You asked for it...here's the photo.

Yesterday the Fitzgeralds had our first family portrait made. I wasn't sure how this would turn out with an eight month old wiggling all around and a photographer trying to capture a still image. As we sorted through more than a hundred images, the ones I was drawn to were not the perfectly posed ones (there were very few of these) but the imperfect, different images where we were laughing or looking at each other instead of the camera. My favorite is one where James and I were each kissing Molly on the cheek, and she turned toward me instead of looking ahead. It made for a lipstick smeared little girl and a lot of laughs...and a real family, with all of its flaws and all of its love.

I've been thinking a lot lately about families...who is in them, what they mean to us, and how to deal with them. It's interesting that our family members are the ones who know us so well that they can push all our buttons and annoy the stuffing out of us. But then, when everything seems to fall apart and when others have turned away, they are the ones turning toward you for that kiss, letting you know that you're still connected...as imperfectly as that may be, you're connected and loved.

Somewhere in that messy kiss is the church...that place where you're family, God's family, connected imperfectly by a Great Love. In the church family portrait, things aren't perfectly posed, and we don't have to fake a smile. We can be real together, and that's a great family to have.

On what day did God create blogging?

2008-09-03T09:28:00.000-07:00

What in the world is blogging? Is this just some techie thing or a political tool? Is it an online diary of sorts? What is blogging, and what does it have to do with God, anyway?

I'm relatively new to the blogosphere myself, but I find blogging to be like snuggling up with a warm, soothing mug of tea with a good friend. For me, blogging is a way to find direction, comfort, and even grace in the small things in life. When I first started blogging, I was often plagued with "blogger's block," not knowing what I should be blogging about. How did one find a topic worth writing on? I often wondered.

Then, I took a good look at some of the old Saints' writings. I read parts of Come Be My Light, a book of Mother Teresa's personal thoughts on faith and letters to God. It was then that I realized blogging is a way that modern Saints and Sinners can reflect on their world and faith and interact with a living God. Blogging is a way of looking at our everyday life and seeing where God breaks through. It's not always that obvious...sometimes it takes a blog to bring out God's presence and have a good wallow in His grace.

It may not have been in existence from the beginning, but I believe blogging is a tool we can use to connect to our Creator. So, welcome to my blog, which I've called: Wallowing in Grace. Why have a chosen such a name? I was driving by a nearby church recently, and I was so impressed with the bold sign near the door: "Wallowing in Grace." Ever since, I can't get that image out of my mind, wallowing in grace. Rolling in and wrapping myself up in God's love. It makes God seem approachable, okay with a little messiness that is sometimes my life, and comforting like a warm cup of tea with an old friend.

I hope you'll find something to connect with as you read my posts, but beware: wallowing is messy. You might be surprised by what God shows you.