Half assed

I used to be a perfectionist. But then depression came along. And adulthood.  And parenthood.

And I realized that sometimes the options aren't good versus bad. The options are partially-done or not at all. Half-assed or no-assed.

And now, when I start to go under due to other people's expectations (or my expectations), I remind myself that half-assed is better than no-assed.

Spiritual feeding

There was a blog post awhile back that I read by clicking through one of my priest friend's Facebook posting.  I don't remember the details anymore, but I still have a very visceral response when I think of it.  The author of the post (I think she was a minister) was angry about people leaving a church because they weren't being "spiritually fed".  The author then made several cracks/points about the church not being around to "spoon feed" people and that people shouldn't be so fickle.

I agree with her that "spoon feeding" anyone is condescending.  But I disagree with the author about church not being to feed people.  That is the WHOLE point of church!  To feed people spiritually and physically.  That's what the Eucharist (communion, Mass, etc.) is ALL ABOUT!  The entire Bible is filled with humans feeding other humans; humans feeding angels; God feeding humans; Jesus feeding sinners and saints alike.

Church shouldn't be about draining people's energy and talents.  It should be about re-energizing and preparing people for their ministry in the world.

Church shouldn't be about getting your card stamped.  It should be about making real connections with other humans and God.

Church shouldn't be another civic institution with requirements for membership.  It should be a place of holy ground.  A thin place.  A place where everyone is welcome, and everyone is given the chance to encounter the divine.

Surviving the zombie apocalypse

Last night, I heard Max Brooks (author of the BOOK World War Z) speak. He was hilarious and poignant and thoughtful. Along with being the world's foremost expert on zombies, he is a history buff.  Everything in his book is based on an actual historical event.

What he's learned, and based the book on, is that humans can't make it on their own. We survive by being in societies. The folks who go off to rough it on their own, to get away from society, often die.

We are meant to be in community. The idea of one hero who saves us all (which is what Paramount changed the book into in the movie) is pure fiction. We need to be in groups where each person can specialize in what they do best for the good of the society.
As anti-religion as Brooks' talk was, his message can easily be translated into religious language. We are the body of Christ. Each person has her own role within the body.  No part is more or less important; all are needed.  And no one should be trying to do it all on her own.

Paying Attention

Today is the first day of Advent.  The worship service at the UCC church was full of light and metaphors about the coming of Jesus.  One of the Bible readings was from the Gospel of Matthew and talked about being prepared; staying alert.  The pastor's sermon included words about Paying Attention.

I began to "free style" on the term Paying Attention (ironically meaning that I was no longer paying attention to the sermon)...

I thought of a dear friend of mine who is often saying that is what we humans are here for: paying attention to one another and being careful with each other.  How are we careful with one another? By listening and watching each other carefully: by paying attention and then keeping our fool mouths shut.

I noticed a baby that was fully attentive.  It struck me that she was facing backwards, looking at all the people sitting behind her.  That baby was more engaged with the community than any of the rest of us were.  She was studying all the people around her.  She was intent on their faces and their expressions.

I kept scouring my brain for a quotation that several of my friends use, especially my yoga instructor.  It is still there at the edge of my memory.  Paraphrased: To pay attention is our only...  Google found it for me! “To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.” -- Mary Oliver

So, this will be my intention for Advent this year:  To pay attention to God and to you.

Discerning God's Voice

Is that the Voice of God or am I just hearing voices?

I think God interacts with every person uniquely, so I can only really share how I discern God's voice in my life.  

The Little Voice

I listen to my gut.  Literally.  When something is amiss, I get cramps.  When I am following my "call", my digestive tract feels fine.  Checking in with my physical reaction helps for small daily decisions (Should I return that phone call?  Should I respond to that Facebook post which upset me?), but also for larger decisions.

When I had to decide whether to let my teaching certification lapse or take a bunch of classes to renew it, I trusted my gut.  I sat with the idea of signing up for the classes and had horrible pain.  I sat with the idea of letting the certification lapse, which went against my common sense, and I felt relief.  Since letting it lapse, I have been drawn to work that doesn't require that certification.

The Big Voice

Every once in awhile...maybe once a year or so...I have an experience that actsince

 involves words.  Generally, it is a sentence that I hear.  The sentence is in my own voice and in my own head.  No one else hears it.  There isn't an external way for me to "test" it.  I know it is from God for two reasons:

1. The words said shock me.  They aren't expected.  They are orthogonal to what I had been thinking.

2. The words sit well in my gut (see The Little Voice).

I have several examples of hearing the Big Voice, and I will try to write up a few in other blog posts.  The example I'll give now is the latest one that's happened to me.

An Example
Every time I've changed churches, it has been due to external circumstances... I moved.  I was offered a job at a different church.

I thought poorly of people who jump from church to church every few years.  I wasn't going to be that person...

But this spring, following the gut test, I decided to start visiting other churches, to see if I (and my family) should stay at our current church or if we should start considering a change.  I had it all planned out.  Over a year or so, we would occasionally visit another church, and then maybe decide.  Instead, that Sunday, as I was walking out of the church we had attended for the last five years, I heard:  "Well, that's that.  You're done here."

Wait!  That wasn't my plan!  I was going to ease out!  I was going to have another church waiting in the wings first!  How would the church possibly survive if I left all my important posts so abruptly!

But then I noticed my physical reaction.  My gut was the most calm it had been in months.  My shoulders relaxed.  I realized that I could easily hand off my tasks to other competent people.

My son and I found our new church by way of his intuition... After our first Sunday worship service there, he turned to me and said, "I think we have found our new church!"

Sitting with God

As much as people seem to think I'm a great pray-er... I'm pretty horrible at routine prayer.  I can pray spontaneously for someone, if asked to.  I can remember to pray for someone at a set time (while they are at a doctor's appointment, an interview, or doing something difficult).  I can pray to God when there is something specific I want. But remembering to pray or mediate or just "hang out" with God?  Not so great.

Right now, I don't even have an excuse of being busy or having a full schedule.  I have plenty of time for daily time with God.  I can't even explain why I don't.

So this morning, I did two things.  I made up a daily "chore" list for myself.  It includes sifting the cats' litter box, doing sit-ups, and praying.  I then went through the list.  I saved praying for last.  Or maybe procrastinated prayer until last.

I sat down.  I told God my intention:  "I want to sit with you.  I want to listen to you.  I don't even really have any questions that I want answered today, although I always have questions for you.  Let's see how this goes."

The successful part of this story is that I didn't fall asleep.  I thought about sleep, and my advice to people who are just starting mediating... what would I say to someone who is just trying it for the first time if they keep falling asleep?  I would say, "Fine.  Maybe what you need now is to sleep every time you try to mediate.  It means that you're actually relaxing into God."  But, what if napping becomes the habit instead of mindful prayer?  What about the needs of the present versus the needs of the future?

Our present needs and the greater-picture needs are intertwined.  We can look at them independently, but they are connected and enmeshed.  Similarly to the prayer versus action continuum.  They work together and are both an integral part of our lives.

So, that's what I thought about as I attempted meditation or sitting with God.  Maybe next time, there will be fewer thoughts and more peaceful quiet.  Or maybe not.

Hospitality

A few months ago, I was recovering from having houseguests back-to-back for several weeks.  I mentioned to a friend that I was glad no one was going to visit us for awhile.  She responded, "Well, I guess you just don't have the gift of hospitality."

I was so surprised and hurt by her statement that I just sat there for a moment.  And then I said (hopefully calmly), "There is a lot more to hospitality than having someone spend the night in your house."

Like many concepts, the word "hospitality" has taken on different meanings over the years.  Biblically, it often meant to have someone stay with you... to provide shelter, safety, and food to the stranger.  Now, the "hospitality industry" refers mainly to tourism (people who can pay for their shelter, safety, food, and entertainment).  We throw around the word hospitality in our churches... mainly meaning welcoming newcomers or providing food for coffee hour.

For me, hospitality does still invoke inviting people into my home, but it is also much more than that.  Hospitality is about the relationship between a host and a guest.  It is about respect.  It is about inviting people into my heart, regardless of geographic location.  I can be hospitable anywhere: in a cafe, in a church, on the street, even in my friend's home.

If hospitality just meant to the people you invite into your house... how's that a spiritual gift?  How many people invite strangers into their house (not including friends of friends for parties)?  Does that only allow for people with houses to be hospitable?

The root of the matter is to treat everyone I meet like a respected guest.  It means making eye contact.  Listening.  Providing physical or spiritual nourishment.

As it says in Hebrews 13:2...
Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.

Why do I keep asking why?

My son was very, very verbal when he was little.  One of those double edged swords:  large vocabulary but also talking ALL the time.

One Thursday evening, as we were driving home from the church Eucharist and potluck, he was sitting in his car seat behind my husband and me.  As we drove down the street, my son just kept talking and talking.

"Why is the stoplight red?"
"Why is the stoplight green?"
"Why are we driving so slowly?"
"Why does the moon look so big?"
"Why do I keep asking why?"

At which point, the comic relief filled the car, as did a brief respite from all the questions.

I often retell that story.  Mainly because it is funny, but also because it is a poignant metaphor for life.  Sometimes we are all just so caught up in trying to figure out why, that we miss the what that is happening right before us.  The what of family.  The what of humor. The what of grace.

To sleep or to pee?

This morning at 2:12am, I had a dilemma.  Should I get up and go to the toilet?  Or should I try to sleep through and make it to the morning?

It seems obvious in the light of day... if your bladder says it needs to be emptied, do it!  But there are so many other considerations in the middle of the night.  I'm not totally awake.  If I get up, will I be able to go back to sleep?  Our house is really quiet at night.  If I get up, will I awaken other family members?  Will they be able to get back to sleep?  We have cats that rely on routine.  If I get up, will a cat decide that signals morning and start meowing... waking up all of us?

This morning, I chose to wake up and go to the downstairs bathroom.  And, it set off the chain of events I was afraid of.  A family member then also got up to use the upstairs bathroom.  A cat followed me back to bed, sat on my chest, and purred loudly.  But, we all managed to go back to sleep and stay asleep until the alarm went off.

Maybe this evening I will drink less fluid.

A panhandler and a Persian restaurant

Today was cold, damp, and overcast.  As I walked from the library to a new small Persian restaurant for lunch, a man approached me and asked for money to buy food.  He said he hadn't eaten in three days.  I invited him to join me for lunch, and he accepted the invitation.

As soon as we walked into the tiny, quiet restaurant with four tables, I was sure that I had made a mistake inviting the panhandler, John, to join me for lunch there.  Surely, we could have walked another block to the diner, where there would be male waiters, more customers, and a more "American" menu.  But, we were seated, and ordered our food.  John talked most of the time.  I listened politely, and attempted to give advice occasionally.  Boy, was the food taking a long time!  Man, was the place quiet.  I was starting to worry that we were bothering the four other people in the restaurant.  What had I gotten myself into?

John and I talked about being Christian.  John kept talking about the $28 that would put him and his girlfriend and their two kids back on their feet.  He never asked me directly for cash, but was very obviously hinting.  I intuited that parts of his story were real and parts were made up for sympathy; but I couldn't tell which pieces were which.

Before the food came, he almost asked me straight out for money.  I responded that I could buy him lunch and pray for him.  John looked disappointed, and to both of our relief, suddenly remembered an appointment he had to get to.

Moments after John left, the owner brought me our food (two entrees), and I proceeded to eat both of them.  She then gave me tea and dessert "on the house" for the good deed I attempted to do.  I pray that some good came out of it; but for now, I just want to take a shower and a nap!

Miraculous Healing

I had Chronic Fatigue Syndrome for four and a half years going into November of my junior year of college. I wanted it to be gone, but had pretty much resigned myself to having it indefinitely.

I was eating lunch with a friend of mine from church, Robin, and discussing my choice of lunch: roast beef sandwich, Cheetos, and juice. I said I was eating the roast beef for protein and the Cheetos for salt because a high-salt-and-protein diet helped me feel better from CFS. Suddenly, she looked at me and said, "Darby, you're not going to have Chronic Fatigue for much longer."

I thought, "Wow, that is nice of her to be thinking positively."

But then she said, "Don't ask me how I know, I just know. You are not going to have Chronic Fatigue for much longer."

I got tingles, because rarely, if ever, had I heard prophecy about myself, let alone from an Episcopalian. Her words were reinforced for me two days later as I was walking to the library, when I had a vision of me sitting in church and crying for joy. As I studied myself closer, I realized that it was because my CFS was gone.

Since the church that I had the image of was the church I attended during college, I decided I better be there the next day so I did not miss the event. So Sunday morning I made sure I was up early and dressed more nicely than I ever had before to go to church. (I was not going to have some miraculous event happen to me in jeans!)

As the service began, I prayed that this day I might be healed. I then sat and waited. Nothing was happening. Then the music began right before communion. I started to shake with excitement. I thought, "This is it! God is going to take my CFS away during communion!"

Normally, I receive communion on the right side near the wall. This Sunday I was front and center, directly under the cross. As I knelt at the rail, I looked up at the cross and thanked God for the miracle that was about to occur and stated that I was ready for it. I ate my share of the bread and wine, and my CFS was gone.

I had expected it to be like on TV when someone dies and a transparent version of themselves lifts away. But it was not like that. It was a feeling that all the fatigue and depression were gone, and in their place was joy and energy.

I went home and called everyone I could think of to tell them the news. Some people were overjoyed. Some were skeptical. But I figured that God would not have healed me so dramatically if I were not to share the story and show that not only does God exist, He is still involved in our "here and now."

What do I have to be thankful for?

Every year about the end of October, I sigh and groan and say swear words.  Not the most appropriate way to begin planning my yearly healing anniversary party.  Back in 1996, I was healed of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome while taking communion at St. Andrew's Episcopal Church in Lewisburg, PA.  (More about that in this post...)  I figured, or maybe God told me, that the reason to be healed so spectacularly was so that I would use my story to begin to talk about God with people.

I didn't realize that I would still be so reluctant to discuss my faith with people this many years after that experience.  So, I force myself to throw an anniversary party every year and tell my healing story.  I force myself to invite people that I may not otherwise ever let know that I'm a practicing Christian.

Last year, as I was moaning and complaining, I thought, "Why do I have to do this now?  Why in November?  This is such a hard season for me with my struggles with depression."  And then, I realized that November was the perfect month to force me to throw a party that was about joy and gratitude, precisely because it is such a hard time of year for me.

So, if you see me around in the months when the days are shrinking, ask me about my healing story, or just ask me about what makes me joyful today.

God is NOT the frosting on the cake

I was sitting with Susan for spiritual direction last week, and I mentioned that a lot of times families view God like icing... that they have what they're doing already and they just kind of spread God over it, or bring God along with what they are already doing, instead of letting God penetrate their lives and be the base of what they're doing. 

Susan replied that she envisions a book that is made up of little vignettes. The title is God is not the frosting on the cake. The cover has a picture of a cupcake that has a smiley face on it.  

My homework is to begin writing. So now I will begin putting together the pieces: writing stories, advice, and poetry.