2015... The year without worry

This is what worry-free living looks like

This morning my husband announced that 2015 was going to be the year without worries. I have already forgotten the context within which the pronouncement was made, but I have been contemplating what a worry-less year might look like. 

Overall, 2014 was a pretty good year.  I definitely have been surprised by how much I enjoy having a middle-schooler.  Most excitement around my child was positive: sports, academics, friends.  As for my husband, no news is good news.  

I try to focus on the positive year that the rest of my family had instead of focusing on me.  My year was boring, painful, or infuriating.  Too much time spent in physical pain due to endometriosis (I seem to be the poster child for auto-immune diseases) or trying to stay one step ahead of recurring depression.

I am a pessimist.  But, just as I believe that “the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice” (Martin Luther King, Jr.), I also believe that the arc of my life bends towards better-ness.  Every year of my adult life has been significantly better than the year prior.

I am hopeful that 2015 follows that trend and is better physically, mentally, and spiritually for me. Intentionally avoiding worry will be a good start.  I just wish I knew how to!  When I asked my husband how 2015 was going to be a year without worry, he helpfully answered, "Because we won't worry."

Here's praying for a worry-free year for my family and yours!

Love,

Darby 

Fight or flight

Red-in-the-face

I was recently in what might be called "a teachable moment." Not the kind where I teach my kid, but the kind where there is obviously something I should learn from the situation, even as my frustration is reaching red-faced proportions.

The question I kept asking myself, while I tried to keep my fool mouth shut, was "is this situation trying to teach me to be less sensitive or is it trying to tell me to start running and not look back?"
In other words, "toughen up, buttercup" or "get out while you still can?"

I spent that entire night alternating between sleeplessness and nightmares.  Am I really that thin-skinned?  And is that a bad thing?

I put the situation to the gut test.  As I wrote in "Discerning God's 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 talked to a friend about quitting this program, there were several instructive pieces of feedback.  First, my gut felt better about quitting the program than staying with it.  Second, my guilt about quitting yet another thing was trumped by my gut.  (I was going to link to my blog post about quitting, but it appears that post is still in draft form and I haven't published it yet.)  Third, my friend was there during the situation where I was about to come unhinged and she thought the experience was wonderful and motivating.

All that led to the answer: Get the hell out!

And in case I hadn't received the message, as I was talking to the head of the program about my need to quit, he asked me to reconsider.  He thought that maybe I should just dive deeper in.  I told him I would prayerfully consider it.  And then I spend the next 24 hours in excruciating pain due to stress cramps.

Yep, time to change course.

Secrets

I have so many secrets.  Most of them are not mine.  Any stories that are just mine are free for the taking and telling, like my struggles with depression.  And my auto-immune disease issues.  And my interfaces with God.  Those are stories I can tell freely.  They get told and blogged about (see my healing story or read other blog posts).

Most stories that are a part of me aren't mine to tell.  Even the stories that are mostly about me, if they hold enough of another person in them, I won't share them without permission.

Generally speaking, I have no urge to share stories that belong to other people.  But there are times when it is hard.  One of those times is when I'm asked what I do all day.  It is easiest to say that I'm a stay-at-home mom.  The inevitable response is "oh!  how many kids do you have?"  When I answer, "One.  He's in middle school," I get that look.  That look that conveys disdain.  What could I possibly be DOING all day while my obviously self-sufficient child is in school?

And I can't truthfully answer that question.  I could throw some jargon around about being a consultant for non-profit organizations and individuals, but that's not really it.

• "I listen to and become a part of other people's stories?"  
• "I'm healing from carrying my own physical ailments and the burdens of other people's lives?"
• "I've been discerning God's purpose for my life for almost four years now, since I quit my last 'real job', but...?"
• "I'm just being where God needs me?"

None of those statements captures the essence of what I do all day.  And they all sound a bit too kooky.

So, what do I do all day?  I won't tell.  And if you're one of the people who has confided in me, you're glad.

Doing vs. Being

I see a spiritual director about once a month.  Her role is to help me focus on my spiritual life and how I connect that with the other parts of my life. A question she keeps asking me is "what time have you spent with God recently?"   My spiritual director's point is that, just like with any human relationship, time needs to be spent together to nurture the relationship between God and me. What do I do with close friends? We go out for lunch, drink tea together, go for a walk, or just "hang out."   So, why don't I do that with God?   But I do lots of stuff!  I volunteer at church.  I volunteer at a non-profit agency that takes care of formerly incarcerated people. I take care of my family.  I try to be engaged in social justice. I try to pray and read the Bible and whatnot.   Sometimes, though, I need to just waste time with God. Hang out. Or to use more churchy language, observe the Sabbath. Just have a cup of tea with God. How do you "waste time" with God?

Laundry and Liturgy

"If only I didn't have to cook dinner, take care of the yard, wash clothes, maintain the car, vacuum, (insert other chores here), I could have the time to do what God really wants me to do!" 

 

I assume that I am not the only one to ever utter those words or something similar to them.  I always feel empathy with people who do say them, because I often have those thoughts too.  

But I have also been reading this summer, and there are many spiritual people who point out that doing those chores is actually doing the work of God.  

Kathleen Norris writes in The Quotidian Mysteries: Laundry, Liturgy and Women's Work,"The Bible is full of evidence that God's attention is indeed fixed on the little things. But this is not because God is a great cosmic cop, eager to catch us in minor transgressions, but simply because God loves us--loves us so much that the divine presence is revealed even in the meaningless workings of daily life. It is in the ordinary, the here-and-now, that God asks us to recognize that the creation is indeed refreshed like dew-laden grass that is 'renewed in the morning' or to put it in more personal and also theological terms, 'our inner nature is being renewed everyday.' Seen in this light, what strikes many modern readers as the ludicrous details in Leviticus involving God in the minuitae of daily life might be revisioned as the very love of God." 

And while Norris looks at everyday chores as a tool for contemplation, Brother Lawrence sees daily activities as uniting us with God.  In the practice of the presence OF GOD, Joseph de Beaufort writes, "the most effective way Brother Lawrence had for communicating with God was to simply do his ordinary work.  He did this obediently, out of a pure love of God, purifying it as much as was humanly possible.  He believed it was a serious mistake to think of our prayer time as being different from any other.  Our actions should unite us with God when we are involved in our daily activities, just as our prayer unites us with Him in our quiet time." 

Norris writes that "The ordinary activities I find most compatible with contemplation are walking, baking bread, and doing laundry."

What ordinary activities are most compatible for your own contemplation and prayer time?

Celebrating, when I really just want to mope

I have probably mentioned before that I throw a party once a year to celebrate the anniversary of being healed by God. I've been touched by many miracles in my life, but the healing of a chronic illness during communion is a big one.  At the time, I felt that God healed me in such a showy way so that I would tell the story and I would celebrate regularly for the rest of my life.

Although God healed me of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, I still deal with other illnesses and disorders. Depression comes and goes. It is often worst in November and December.  I was healed in mid-November.  And after ten years of grumbling about having to throw a celebration party when I didn't want to, I finally realized that maybe throwing the party and remembering the miracle in the middle of all my depression and despair was for me to remember the miracle.  To remember God's Love.

Tomorrow, I am going to The Sandbox Evening Worship because I was invited by the priest to share my healing story.  And as I was walking down the sidewalk this evening, despairing because of the pain I have in my abdomen*, God hit me over the head again.  Of course, I'm going to share my healing story tomorrow!  Of course, I'm going to celebrate healing while part of my body is anything but healed.  Why?  Because I need to hear the story again.  I need to remember God's touch and God's grace and receive a bit of God's patience.

God, grant me the patience to be fully present at this time with whatever is going on inside or outside my body, and to rest in You, in whom I live, and breathe, and have my being.  Amen.

*I was diagnosed with endometriosis during surgery a month ago.  According to the surgeon, I'm "riddled with endometriosis" and organs are attached to one another in a dangerous way.  It probably began back in my teens, but hasn't shown symptoms until recently.  I've started hormone therapy, and hope to be feeling better soon.

Anniversary of the "irregular" ordinations of women

"Philadelphia Eleven"

Back in 1988, I went through confirmation class with Mother Elizabeth.  Father Pete helped lead some of the classes too. There was nothing unusual about that in my mind. They had both been priests at my church for as long as I could remember. Therefore, I was shocked to learn that the Episcopal Church didn't allow women priests until the General Convention of 1976.

On July 29, 2014, we will be celebrating the 40th anniversary of the first "irregularly" ordained female Episcopal priests. Irregular, because it was against church law.  

It also took until 2010 (34 years after the national church voted to allow women's ordination) for a woman to be ordained in the Diocese of Quincy (Illinois).  Now at least one woman has been ordained in every diocese.  

Less than two dozen women have been consecrated as bishops in the Episcopal Church.  The Church of England just voted to allow women bishops yesterday.

Struggling to get to church in the summer

After years of figuring out how to get from the east side of Madison to Grace Church during Art Fair on the Square, Taste of Madison, IronMan, Ride the Drive, assorted races, parades, and marches, I thought I had my transportation plan down to a science. I looked online for the event map, the Madison Metro bus detours, and the city parking guides. Then I would choose the best combination of driving, bussing, biking, and walking.

That is until the Sunday that the Madison marathon brought me to tears. I had done my due diligence and decided that bicycling was the way to go. My son was in elementary school at the time and had spent the night at his grandma's house downtown. I was to meet up with them at Michaelangelo's Coffee Shop, and then we would all go to church together.

I followed the path I had set out. I was sure I knew which way the race course went around the square. I knew that there was no way to cross the course the last few blocks, and I was positive I was coming upon it from the north side: allowing access to both Michaelangelo's and Grace.

I do not remember how I ended up where I did. I only remember being blocks away from a crossing point, crowds too thick to ride my bike or even walk it, and this barrier between me and my destination.  

  

 

I can still feel the raw emotion as I stood there and, unsuccessfully, tried not to cry.

There have been other Sundays when I had my family with me while trying to navigate yet another downtown event that was making it hard to get to church. There were days when I really did not want to expend the energy or get up a few minutes earlier.

Why do I battle downtown events week-in and week-out? Because being in church every Sunday is important. Being in church when it is hard to be there is as important, or even more important, than being in church when it is easy to get there.

Communal worship is about building relationships: relationships with God, with yourself, with your family, with God's family.  Relationships strengthen and grow when they are tended to on a regular basis.

Darby

(I wrote this as I was trying to figure out how to maneuver around last weekend's Art Fair on the Square.)

Food as Prayer

I am reading The Quotidian Mysteries: laundry, liturgy, and "women's work" by Kathleen Norris. In it, Norris discusses the sacred task of everyday living within a feminist framework.

Today, I am also contemplating a question asked in the middle school health curriculum: "what are your natural highs?" When I was first presented with this question, I was frustrated. I don't know!  Exercise doesn't do it for me; although I have plenty of friends who get the runner's high. Adrenaline-producing activities don't do it for me; anything remotely exciting makes me fall asleep like a possum.

But Food!  Good food with good friends. Good food with a good book. Making food. Eating food at a restaurant. Eating at a friend's house.

As I sit in a café eating delicious food, drinking cappuccino, and reading Norris' book, I realize that I've answered more than just that one question. Food feeds me physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Appreciating the farmers who have grown the tasty ingredients, the cooks who have combined them in delightful ways, and the people who surround me at the table, I sink into the peace and fullness of God and creation.

Congregational confirmation

I've been a member of the United Church of Christ for three months now, so I still look at everything that happens at First Congregational through Episcopalian eyes.  Sunday's worship service included the confirmation of three teen boys.

I know none of the theology of the Congregational Church, other than it's congregational... A very flat hierarchy with most decisions made by the consensus of the individual congregation. So I have no idea why they have confirmation. In the Episcopal Church it was originally meant as a time for the bishop (who visited an individual church every few years) to confirm that the baptisms that had happened since he has been there last were legit.

From the sermon and liturgy Sunday, it seemed to be closer to what confirmation has become in the Episcopal Church: a time for adolescents to make their faith their own. The confirmands reaffirm their baptismal vows that were made for them as infants.

The part of the liturgy that was the most beautiful to me was the laying on of hands. Since there isn't a bishop, both pastors, and the ENTIRE congregation, lay hands on each confirmand.  As I stood there with my hand on the shoulder of the man ahead of me in the aisle, with the hand of another person on my shoulder, I prayed for the young men making this public statement of faith. I also prayed for the light of Christ to fill up every person in this physical chain of prayer.

Beautiful!

Looking for a confessor

As I mentioned in the post I'm Pretty Amazing, Right?, I have been dealing with trying to not let the ghosts from my past have too much say in my future.  While I was struggling with that particular decision, I realized that I still was carrying a massive grudge against a person that was not only upsetting, but holding me back from a potentially joy-filled and life-giving opportunity.

I want to put that grudge down.  Along with the other dozen or so ones that are sitting on my shoulders.  So, I considered finding a confessor: a person to whom I can confess my sins and receive God's absolution from.  But to whom would I confess?  I could not think of a single person.  I want to be able to name names and say swear words about the people I'm holding grudges against.  But even if the person I confess to doesn't know me or anyone that I'm complaining about, I'm still putting that negativity out there. And in as small of a city as Madison is, and as small as the circles I run in are, and the number of events I've attended or organized that involve church people are, there is no way that anyone I chose to confess to doesn't in some way know one of the people I need to forgive.

So, I sat down with a cup of coffee to chill with God this morning, and we talked about it.  Well, God mostly listened while I worked through stuff.  Why would I need to confess to a human to get absolution from God?  Can't I just rant about my grudges directly to God?  Say, over a cup of coffee?  God can deal with my crap... all of it.  No need to worry about putting negativity out there; instead, my negativity can be safely removed, like the toxic waste it is.

As I began listing the people and offenses that I don't want to carry on my back anymore, I wondered aloud:  "Do I have to do forgiveness in person, face-to-face?  Like Step 8 in the AA program?  I sure hope not.  I really don't want to talk with that guy."  I also wondered, as I contemplated a person from my past that I haven't seen in over a decade, "For the people or offenses that I've already forgiven, do I sometimes take that forgiveness back?  It's hard.  Sometimes, it seems I've moved on, but then something--a passing comment, being involved with activities around it, etc.--brings all that crap back to the surface."

Obviously, the answer is that forgiveness and letting go of grudges is on-going work.  Yuck!  I am eager for forgiveness from me and to me that gets the poison out from inside myself instantaneously and never lets it back in.

For those of you left wondering, "Has Darby forgiven those people she is holding grudges against?"  The answer is, "I'm working on it."

Cup of coffee with God

Susan asked me, "What have you been doing with God so far this Lent?"

I started to list all the events that I've gone to at church. Susan laughed and shook her head. "That wasn't my question. I didn't ask what Church things you are doing. I asked what God things.  What are you doing with God?"

Susan is the friend that I go to for spiritual direction. She doesn't like that term, because our interaction is more of a two-way discussion than anything directed. But we meet monthly for a cup of tea and some discussion, because she asks great questions and tries to help focus me on "being" instead of "doing."

I wasn't planning on a Lenten discipline this year. I wasn't going to give up a specific food. I wasn't going to stop using Facebook. I wasn't going to say morning prayer daily.

Following Susan's advice, I'm not going to "do" something for Lent. I'm going to "be" with God every day, like I'd be with a friend. Every day, I'm just going to sit (maybe with a cup of coffee or maybe not), and hang out with God. Maybe I'll talk. Maybe God will. Or maybe we will just sit in silence and enjoy each other's company.

I'm pretty amazing, right?

I am pretty amazing. I have a lot of disparate skills that make me able to see big pictures and be able to break them down into reasonable steps and goals. I'm great with people of all ages. I have a deep-rooted faith that leads me to social justice and do-goodery.

And most people see that and appreciate it. But a few don't. I know intellectually that not everyone is always going to like me, especially if I am putting myself out there and pushing for change or improvement.

The problem is that a significant percentage of the people who bully me and put me down are in positions of power. They were my boss. They were the leader of the volunteer project.

And now I'm presented with a volunteer opportunity in an organization I don't know very well. I am impressed with the organization from the outside, but I'm scared that the closer I get to the inside the more disappointed I'll be...

Writing this post has helped me think through the fear I have about saying yes, and I will say yes. Because maybe this organization is as solid on the inside as it seems from the outside; but mainly, because I shouldn't let the few bullies in my past dictate my future.

Four letter words

I admit it!  I like listening to pop music.  Sometimes as I'm singing along to a catchy tune, I will realize that the words are inappropriate and I quickly change the channel.  But other times, I hear great theology in a song (which I imagine wasn't what the artists meant, but it still works for me).  One of those songs is Counting Stars by the band One Republic.  Besides reminding me of Romans 7:15*, the song has a great line:

"Hope is a four-letter word..." 

Which I identify with.  Hope is a scary, scary concept.  Think about the statement, "Don't get your hopes up."  Being hopeful can be very hard when there is evidence of evil all around us.  Heck, being hopeful is difficult even when nothing particularly bad happens.

I often equate hope with joy:  neither are synonyms for happiness.  Both hope and joy are much deeper than that.  Hope and joy are rooted in our souls, but can easily be hidden in a heap of fear and anger.

So the scary part is allowing hope to push up through the crap that is fear and allow it to see the light of day... all the while knowing that opening our hearts like that can lead to great joy and love...and great heart-break.

Other scary four-letter words:

* I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.

Story and Community

On a snowy January morning, twenty-five people (ages 6-86) gathered in the chapel at St. Dunstan’s Church for a homemade breakfast and a Christian formation program, Growing In Faith Together (GIFT).  I had created GIFT the year before with input from dozens of parishioners, and on this Sunday, each piece of the program was led by different people.  A mother and her teenage son provided breakfast.  A fourth-grader led the prayers and worship songs.  A drama teacher led a response to the Gospel story with physical action as well as discussion.  And an elderly couple offered to clean up.

This program, exemplified in this morning, demonstrates two important parts of ministry: story and community.

As Christians, we automatically engage in storytelling during Sunday morning worship. We read our faith stories from the Christian Bible and the preacher responds to those stories in her sermon.  We also tell our individual stories during the week: to coworkers, family, friends. But we often overlook that both sets of stories are interrelated and need to interact for our faith stories to be whole. Our personal stories are built upon the stories of the community, which starts local (in time and place) and expands to all times and all places.

Each person’s story is unique, while still having similarities with other people’s narratives.  Just like each individual is unique, yet we are all equally beloved children of God.  I visualize this concept by using a Venn

diagram.  Each person is a circle that overlaps with the other circles, and is only engulfed by the enormous circle that represents God and includes all things and all people.

In a similar visual, all people’s faith journeys also overlap.  No person’s “line” is straight.  No person’s line is always headed in the same direction.  No person’s line is exactly like anyone else’s.  But the different lines cross.  They mirror each other in places.  They join each other for stretches.  Each faith journey enriches and affects other people’s faith journey.

Humans are naturally drawn to communities.  My job as a lay pastor is to create a space where genuine communities can grow and flourish.  Where a person can continue her journey for awhile with other people who love and respect her while also introducing her to disparate ideas and giving her a place to grow and change.  Where being unique can occur side-by-side with being a welcome part of the group.  

Testify

This morning, we became congregationalists.  During Sunday worship, we participated in the liturgy that made us official members of First Congregational Church, UCC.

As I was trying to describe what our part of the service would be like to our son, my husband told him that he would have to  spontaneously testify to the whole congregation. Now, that was just my husband trying to be funny and falling flat, but it did spark a discussion about what "testifying" means.

I said that there are two ways the word testify is used. One is in a court of law and means to "tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth." The other way is in a religious sense. It is also about truth telling, but the truth isn't recounting facts correctly.  It is about describing your own truth about your experience of God and Mystery.

My family has always belonged to progressive or liberal churches because of our belief that Jesus was all about social justice. But, liberal churches often also lean more toward the head than the heart. They are afraid of testifying, of unruliness, of the unknown of Mystery and the Holy Spirit.

I'm still very uncomfortable with testifying, except to safe audiences. I'm trying to overcome that.  The story of God moving in and throughout my life is much more exciting and interesting than what I did last weekend.

Repent!

A friend's church is hosting a six-week study of the biblical book Acts of the Apostles.  Like with exercise, I know that I will be more faithful to reading the Bible if I'm doing it with a group.  I love this church's pastor and the congregation's acts of social justice, so I asked my friend if I can tag along.

Today was the first day, and our discussion centered mainly on how inclusive the first two chapters of Acts are, with side-notes about how un-inclusive we as humans still are.  But what caught my attention, even though it was a passing comment, was verse 2:38.

Everyone there was reading from the New Standard Revised Version of the Bible, which says,
Peter said to them, “Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ so that your sins may be forgiven; and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit..."

But I am reading from the "Seek, Find: the Bible for All People" which is a Contemporary English Version of the Bible, which says,
Peter said, “Turn back to God! Be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ, so that your sins will be forgiven. Then you will be given the Holy Spirit..."

They pretty much say the same thing, but I was struck by the use of the phrase "turn back to God" instead of "repent".  The pastor mentioned that repent comes from the Greek metanoia and means to "turn around". He then physically showed us that it is...

• To turn from a life facing the wall, to a life facing people.
• To turn from a life of destruction, to a life of creation.
• To turn from a life of isolation, to a life of community.

The pastor continued on with verse 39, which is also pretty cool, but I sat and pondered metanoia some more.  In starting to write this blog post, I did a quick search for the definition, and I didn't find anything that quite fit with what I was looking for.  Most of the dictionaries referred to a spiritual conversion, which doesn't have the right connotation.  

I (we) don't just repent or turn around once in our lives, which is the connotation of the word conversion.  I (we) repent daily, hourly even.  I get turned away from God often, and so I often need to "turn back to God"; I often need to repent.  I probably needed to repent several times just while sitting in the Bible study inside a church.  I don't even want to think about how often I need to repent in other more profane settings.

So, I will try from now on to mentally translate the word "repent" to the phrase "turn back to God".