Queen of Refuse

This place is brimming in vomit and other forms of nastiness. The washer has been going for days though I am doubtful of its germ warfare capabilities.
Of course I have the dread illness as does everyone else in the house. It really ticks me off because I still have to drag my sorry carcass around the house cleaning up all the ka-ka. It’s like battling the R.O.U.S.es in the Fire Swamp.

Meanwhile, the other adult in the house gets to go back to work in the outer world where he is expected neither to wipe people’s butts nor clean the privy after they are done using it. All this while I am trying to cram in a self-directed study of Early Childhood Education, Phonics, Classical Education & How to Keep the Home Organized While Teaching at Home. There have been moments when I’ve thought that what I’m doing at home as a mother is not important. (Shame on me!) Now that I am finally beginning to catch my stride I challenge anyone to get their regular job done and manage children at the same time. (Unless they are a teacher) I don’t have a personal assistant. I don’t have a bookkeeper or a management team. I don’t even have a team of volunteers. I do have some help with house cleaning and that was a step in the right direction.

Sometimes you just need an epic tale to lift your spirits and remind you that there are worse things out there than copious amounts of puke and potty chairs filled with stinky goo. There’s no shortage of worse things out there as we all know.

So I am finding inspiration from an old classic: The Princess Bride.

Nestled among its clever script are such gems as:

“Life is pain. Anyone who says otherwise is selling something.”

“Get some rest. After all, if you don’t have your health, you don’t have anything.”

“So Bow to her… Bow to the queen of slime, the queen of rubbish, the queen of putrescence…”

Voting, Schmoting: Who to Vote For & Why

Some of need a little help when it comes to voting. For instance, many people do not have time to listen to all the political speeches or to do research on every candidate. Further, how can we be sure that what we are reading is accurate? We know that every candidate has speech-writers and spin-doctors. This makes it very difficult to separate truth from fiction. So, I've decided to help everyone out by telling you who I am voting for and why. If you want to vote for this person, I guarantee that if he gets into office he will not mess things up any more than they already are. In fact, I feel quite certain that things will improve under his direction.

What I want in a leader is: Integrity, Wisdom, Maturity, Experience, Compassion, Love, Strength & Humor. (sounds like an ad for e-harmony) While this is not an exhaustive list, these are the most important qualities.

I happen to know two men who fit the bill. Either one of them will do a cracker-jack job of running this country which is more than I can say for any of the current candidates. These men possess all of the above character traits as individuals. If one could be President, and the other Vice President, that would be even better. Between the two of them, one has served our country in the military; the other has vast experience overseas and is fluent in several languages. One has run several successful businesses of his own. The other has served in high-ranking positions within the organization that he works under. Both have spent time teaching and counseling. Both men are respected within their communities and have put in hours of volunteer work with people of all ages. Both men are straightforward and honest. Both are adept at managing conflict and mediation. Both are highly intelligent, self-motivated, hard-working individuals.

In short, I believe that we should all vote for these two men. You can write it in on your ballot:

VOTE FOR DAD!

SMACKDOWN!

My kid hit her teacher a couple days ago.
Smacked her.

I'm not gonna lie to you - I was fairly dismayed when the "Children's Director" pulled me aside to inform me of my child's misdeed. (I go to a non denominational Bible study where they have a children's program)

Now, I have not gone out of my way to give people the whole low-down on being a pastor's wife - and I think all of you know by now how I feel about that whole issue. So it wouldn't surprise me if someone had a few snarky things to say about the hellions on wheels that PK's (pastor's kids) can be. **I love it! Do you see that?! They are called pastor's kids, not pastor's wives kids! what a delightful discovery just now!**

Well, I've been a goody-two-shoes PK and a hellacious MK (missionary kid) and I can tell you that it only gets worse in proportion to the amount of preachy religious people that a kid has to put up with but doesn't know enough to tune them out. A few of my pals and I took to chain smoking down by the river (literally) although not in a van as in Chris Farley's SNL skit. (Having the van would’ve made all the difference!) We also took to writing heinous poems about hell and suicide. That was some of my very worst writing. How original is the F--- word after its fiftieth time in verse? I know, I know, the angst of it all.

This was not the first time that my child has created a disturbance in her class but it was the first time that she hit someone. Apparently it's "the first time this had ever happened" (that a kid hit a teacher there). I'm wondering if that should go in the scrapbook under "Firsts"?
Since it was a first, the nice director lady asked,
"What do you want us to do?"

You're asking me??

"Enforce some consequences? Like a time-out?" I ventured, uncertain if this was her polite way of saying, "We're not sure we want your kid here."

Spank her in front of the whole class? (That actually happened to me and now I cannot do math as a result)
Smack her back?

So, being the decent parent that I am, I had a good chat with the child, asking her what happened and what she could have done differently and how did she think the teacher felt about being hit and was she ready to apologize? I also mentioned that being mad doesn't give her the right to hurt people or misbehave. She felt badly about it and apologized to the teacher. Later we talked about things some more and she said that she hit the teacher because she didn't want to be there. I informed her that not being there wasn't one of her options and that she was going to have to find a way to make it work. Far be it from me to allow my child to think she can dis authority figures even if I may not agree with their methodology. I was a pathetic people pleaser as a child so I am relieved to have a child who stands up for herself and speaks her mind even though it comes across poorly at the age of 4 3/4. She is no pushover with children or adults and that is a good thing so long as it can be properly channeled.

I told her Dad what happened and he laughed, not surprisingly, since he is the type who cheers for the underdog. He said that he hit his 1st grade teacher.
Only she smacked him back.

Bubbicious

Getting away from the Christian bubble is so liberating. I have to say, I hope never to return to said place except for brief visits to those still inside. I don't belong there anymore and every step I've taken to get out has opened up more and more freedom. There are so many things that bubble-dwellers make issues of that simply do not matter outside of the bubble. Now that I am out I find it amazingly depressing how bound up I felt in there and how little interest I had in anyone's life who was "on the outside". I say "depressing" because there are so many who are still stuck in there struggling with the same things that I struggled with. Wow, did I have my head in the sand, to use a well-worn cliche. I have been doing better. I am still struggling on and off with depression but also sensing that it's hold has been progressively lessening. Even now I don't know all of the causes but I think there have been a myriad of factors involved which seems reasonable to me.

Having unrealistic expectations has been one of the causes; both my own and those belonging to others. When we first jumped into this venture some one who goes to our former church was talking with me and informed me that "being a senior pastor's wife is a lot different than being a high school pastor's wife" (not that this person had been either one, ironically) Anyway, this person's near-lecture seemed to be more about keeping up appearances that about caring for others. Nonetheless, it was like a bitter pill that gets lodged in the throat and did nothing to arm me for what was to come. I allowed myself to fall into a trap of being anxious about those type of things for quite some time after our arrival in our new town: Will people think I'm a good parent even though I scream at my kids sometimes? What if I don't know how to help this person who is in front of me? What if someone I know sees me drinking a glass of wine with dinner? And on and on it went. The truth is, the person who said all that stuff to me is a fearful person who hasn't been able to let go of unrealistic expectations when it comes to "being in leadership". I am a real person with real issues and I'll be danged if I am going to suffer alone in those. At a team meeting I went off about something that is an issue in my life and just being able to admit that I can be a jerk about some things is a good thing for me because I have spent my whole life trying to be good and hiding all my stuff because I thought I was supposed to be this spiritually mature person. I tried to make that happen in my life by following all those asinine how-to steps that people fueling the Christian machine like to pump out. You know, like "Five Steps to Knowing God Better" and other stupid sermon or book titles. How about a sermon titled "Keeping Up Appearances and other Horse s---"?!

I went from pastor's kid to missionary kid and it only went from bad to worse because it seemed like the stakes kept getting higher. Now here I am, a "senior pastor's wife" (gag me, like, totally with that title) and if I can't be authentic than I don't want to be at all. I couldn't take the whole stupid leadership persona any more - it was killing me. I don't have all the answers and there is no one who does. As for being in leadership, we are equally important in the "body". Leaders only exist to help bring continuity to what is going on within the body and to help facilitate spiritual growth. There is nothing special about leaders beyond that. I have been doing well, l and feel more like a real person than I have in years.

Now more than ever I think that delving into one's doubts is the best place to begin when it comes to one's faith. If I don't ask the hard questions then how will my faith ever be called into account? Blind faith seems illogical to me. Even Jesus said to count the cost before choosing to follow Him. That, to me, says that He knows we have questions as well as brains. He wasn't some cheese-ball salesman so why should we behave that way when it comes to our faith?

There are plenty of Christians who get really irritated by those who express doubts and tend to offer reproach. It seems like a lot of these people are motivated by fear - perhaps because their own faith has never been called into account. It's easier just to follow a formulaic approach than it is to ask whether or not God is real and if He's worth following. Is He worth following? Only if He is real. How do I know He is real? I keep asking Him to reveal Himself to me. How will I reach the maturity level of the apostle Paul unless I am first convinced that God is real? It isn't possible! Paul staked his life on the fact that he knew God was real. Paul had a personal experience with Christ that changed his entire outlook.
Sure, people might ask, "Well how long are you going to keep asking if God is real; at some point you just have to believe!!"
"I will keep asking God as long as it takes." That is my response.
No, I don't have to just believe. That is foolish and naive. People who "just believe" are people who join pyramid schemes and cults and drink the Kool-Aid given to them. God is OK with me asking questions in order to try to gain more understanding. It's like a four-year old who is constantly asking, "Why?" Four-year olds don't ask questions to be annoying, they ask questions because they want to understand the world around them and to understand their place in that world. Do we expect a four-year old to know how to drive a car? No, we expect that they barely know how to wipe themselves after using the toilet. The difference is, most four-year olds do not have a problem admitting that they need help wiping whereas many of us would like to pretend that we possess the skill when, in fact, we need help wiping also. At some point there are the inevitable skid-marks on the ole under-roos and the evidence of our inability is undeniable.

Pride, fear, pretense, self-absorption, lusts, contempt - these are the spiritual silicone parts that we add on until our true selves become unrecognizable. They become the ties that bind. "Therefore... let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. ....Therefore strengthen the hands which hang down, and the feeble knees, and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be dislocated, but rather be healed. " (Hebrews 12:1,2,12)

I want to see the bubble filled with that kind of wisdom; especially my own bubble.

light.

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate, our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be?"
–Nelson Mandela


It's easy to be "nobody". I struggle with nobody-ness all the time because I am afraid of the ramifications and responsibilities of being somebody. I want to know my true self; the self that God created me to be. And then I want to be that person. I suppose it is my mistake to think that is a destination where I can arrive... someday.

What am I passionate about? What are my strengths? What are my talents and gifts? What is the life that I hope to create?

There are a lot of things that I want to do but the real question is: Who do I want to be?

What is the light that frightens me? What will happen if I embrace it?

Happy Hour

It's Valentine's Day already. Seriously, I live on Hawaiian Time but it doesn't seem to matter because Regular-People-Time just keeps flying by. Why can't I just hang loose while the rest of my countrymen scurry around like rats on a wheel? Who needs all the stupid deadlines and timetables anyway? Once I am stopped up in an urn I'm not gonna care that I made it to the church on time or anywhere else for that matter. I mean, who eulogizes about how dear Josephine was the most punctual person she'd ever met and it really touched her how on-time Josephine always was? Really now. Old Josephine was a real stickler about being punctual. That is the wry truth that everyone will bemoan. Secretly they are all glad that the old nag is pushing up daisies because now she can't make them all feel harried and rushed and guilt-ridden.

Every time I go to write a serious post on here I am seized by boredom of all such things. I don't want to yammer on and on about faith, churchy stuff and depression. Sometimes I feel like I eat, breathe and sleep such things and I will scream if I have to hear another dumb conversation about it. For Pete's sake, just live it already or shut-up. What good is empty philosophy to the rest of us? It's like my friend's friend who claims self-absorption like it's a disease that he, or she, catches from time to time.
"Duh...sorry I haven't called in, like, a month... I caught a bad case of self-absorption and couldn't make it to the phone..." The funny thing is, I've been there. It's so dang easy to live in a microcosm of self. I had to laugh when I heard the charming yet idiotic message that this person left on my friend's phone about the whole thing.

I think I am going to start another blog about the more humorous things in life. We could all use a little more humor, right?

So what's humorous right now? Well, for starters my two-year old looks like a Kewpie doll. That's funny.

Another funny sight is my four-year old wearing only tights and a turtleneck: the crotch on the tights is sagging way down by her knees. Plus she is wiping snot on her sleeve. I wish I could get away with such things.

Thirdly, some girlfriend's and I went out for Happy Hour and they were regaled with tales about the truth about childbirth and it's after effects by the two of us who've been through it. Can anyone say, "Oops, I crapped my pants?" (a skit from SNL) with a straight face? It's probably funnier after a few sips of a beverage. (It doesn't take much, trust me)

The fact that I'm even writing any of this is funny because there is probably someone out there who doesn't think it's funny at all and they are going to blow the alleged whistle on me. That's funny.

"You be an optimist, I'll be a realist!"

"No pessimist ever discovered the secret of the stars or sailed an uncharted land, or opened a new doorway for the human spirit."

~ Helen Keller

Yeah so I said that I was going to get back to where I am with J.C. and still haven't. I will, I will, just not today. We don't even have our tree decorated for Pete's sake.

A friend posted something funny so I thought I would relay it to you. There is a website called despair.com, which does not surprise me considering the Gen X perpetual state of angst - rage against the machine, stick it to the man - not to mention the turmoil that the world is in nowadays. My fave so far is the mug that reads, "this glass is now half-empty". Suh-weet! Maybe I will get myself one except that I have enough junk already and that in and of itself causes me to despair.

I hate that stupid glass half-full analogy with a passion. The glass is half-full? Who says that? No one that I know! Not unless they read Norman Vincent Peale, Zig Ziglar, Robert Schuller and listen to their tapes. kooky. Your head is half-full is what I'd like to say! I'd tell you what else is half-full but I am a lady so I won't mention it here. (whatever that means!) My diaper pail is half-full, does that count? It reeks enough to be all the way full.

Now that I am on "serious drugs" as my Auntie Leilani likes to call her meds, I'm thinking that I shall become one of those dang Pollyanna types. ha ha ha I love Pollyanna though. She is a cool kid. My friend likes to tease me by saying that I am the crabby hypochondriac woman on Pollyanna who told Pollyanna that she was an impertinent child. This friend of mine can be a little obnoxious at times, as you can see, and I am not being negative, I am merely telling the truth. I love him anyway so that proves that I have a positive side. ha ha

In closing, I offer that whoever can tell me who said, "You be an optimist, I'll be a realist!" will win a prize. Maybe I'll send you a half-empty mug. Just tell me what you want it half-full of.

Not A Moment Too Soon!

I know I left ya hanging and still have not been able to encapsulate my thoughts to write a decent post.

It's snowing outside! I love to watch snow falling; it's very soothing. I am rocking in my chair, needing the peacefulness of the setting. I hear Eeyore in the background, "I could use an umbrella to keep the snow off my house - not that it matters if I don't get one." My mental state, summed up by Eeyore's bleak outlook! After nearly two years of debilitating depression I finally asked my medical professional for anti-depressants, a move that I was sore afraid to make. But when a friend intervened, saying," This is me stamping my foot: I want you to call the Dr., and I want you to do it by Tuesday because I'm going to ask you to make sure that you've done it!" Well, I could hardly refuse without getting drop-kicked into the Dr's office so I made the phone call.
Another friend emails, urging me to call an acquaintance who is a counselor. My friend hopes that I don't mind her being bossy. Au contraire, it's high time that some steps toward progress were taken!
I will say, so far so good. The meds are working already; hopefully getting my thinking realigned will soon follow. It's true what they say about being able to take life on once the medication begins helping. It's amazing how hopeless a person can become when mired in deep depression.

Who knows?! I may even get some Christmas cards sent out to more than 20 people this year!

Radio Silence

We apologize for the temporary lapse in our regular programming... the station seems to be experiencing technical difficulties... Please standby until further notice... Possible snowstorm and icy road conditions...

Lip Balm?

It seems that I have made the transition from being "Pastor's Wife Barbie" to being a "Chatty-Cathy Doll". You know how it is - we go through those giant pendulum swings as we're working things out in our lives. I know there will be a middle ground one of these days.

We've been facing a tremendous amount of discouragement lately and it's been coming at us from many directions. I think that last Thurs. night was one of of our darkest. You know it's bad when not just one, but both of us, are discouraged at the same time. Yeah, not so good. We must have spent at least an hour last night praying: yelling at God; pleading with God; asking Him WHY?! and WHAT?! and WHO?! and most of all, HELP!?! HELP!! NO, REALLY, HELP!?! On that note, we went to bed.

At 7:30 AM, the phone rang and there was John B. - the head of the church-planting organization that we are under - speaking word after word of encouragement. Let me tell you, we were so parched that it felt like someone giving us water after we'd been dumped in the in the desert - much unlike Chevy Chase's character in The Three Amigos who only offered, "Lip balm?"

I feel like a cat in a bag these days, panic-stricken, pawing around in there trying to find the way out. When I was a kid, my sister and I slept downstairs on the hide-a-way bed, in our sleeping bags, due to the high wasp population upstairs in our rooms. We had these army surplus sleeping bags that were practically airtight. One night we were goofing around and I hid in the bottom of my bag and the opening of the bag somehow got folded underneath me. At first I just sort of felt my way around to get out but when I couldn't find the opening I began to panic. My super military quality sleeping bag did not have one of those little air holes in the bottom by the zipper - it zipped all the way to the end. And it was getting hot in there. It was stiflingly hot and I was freaking out. I was old enough to have some notions as to suffocation and death so I started yelling for help.
"Get me out of here! I can't get out! I'm stuck in here! Somebody please! I'm gonna suffocate to death! HELP!!!!" Finally one of my parents came and untangled the sleeping bag so that I could get out. My sister must have slept through it all or was too little to know how to help.

The remembrance of the sleeping bag distress came to me the other day because it parallels my life. In the past year and a half I've been realizing that I'm stuck in the bag and can't find my own way out. As I've reevaluated my priorities lately it's become apparent that I've run out of my own resources to excel within the various roles of my life. All of those roles, not just one or two of them. I can't magically make myself communicate better or resolve conflict more effectively; or parent with grace and humor that I do not possess. I need help finding my way out of the bag. Most of us come to these places in our lives sooner or later and it's very humbling. I happen to be a person who is very motivated to change, grow, and deal with things even though I also happen to be a person who struggles against high levels of negativity and perfectionism.

I can't run out on my family as much as I want to some days because I feel like a failure. I am not a failure but I get sucked into believing that when I have mere moments of failure. (Who knew?! I'm not perfect?!?) I am reminded that idols come in many forms and that many of us have some ugly gargoyles named "Feelings" that sit enshrined in special alcoves; we scrape and bow to them all throughout the day and we lend them the power to control our minds and actions, and we give them permission to set the mood in our very environments. Are we gonna do anything about it? If we need help will we ask for help? Will we admit that these are gods that we have brought into power - not someone else's gods?

For me, I have to seek the help I need so that I am equipped to make the changes that I need to make. In that I also have to differentiate between who is offering lip balm and who is offering water - on so many levels. It was not likely that I would die of suffocation in my sleeping bag and it's not likely now that I won't find my way out of whatever this is with some help - if I am willing to receive it, that is.

Next time, the latest on where Jesus and I are in all of this.

Here's to Handel - and My Life Coach

So, I spoke with my personal Life Coach and she told me to quit being a martyr and to quit being involved in children's ministry. (Strains of the Hallelujah Chorus are playing in background) I picture Jeremy Piven (the actor) characteristically holding his head in his hands, looking up at John Cusack and shouting, "Man, you're like my oracle and s---!" (From the movie Serendipity) This is what this friend is to me, an oracle. We are that for each other - we are both oracles. My other "processing" friend is a healer. I'm into those old world terms lately.

Anyway, she walked me through a very logical process to find out who I really am and what I'm really called to. It boiled down to this: I am a Christ-follower, a wife, a mother, a homemaker, and when needed, a friend/relative. That's it. I am not called to anything else; I have no other openings at the current time, including children's ministry. (Again with the Hallelujah Chorus...) These are the specific things that I am called to at present. She asked me why I was trying to add more responsibilities beyond the ones God has already called me to. She told me that the things God has called me to are the same things forming the lens that I need to filter life's other stuff through: "If I add X,Y,Z is it going to make me a better wife, mother or homemaker? Will it fit anywhere into the existing picture without causing harm in those areas?"

It's amazing how a paradigm shift can create some breathing room. She may not realize it but I feel like she rolled a giant oxygen tank up into my space and now I am getting my color back. It makes me cry just thinking about it. She said a bunch of other stuff about boundaries and not being a whiner, and to you-know-where with the whole "pastor's wife" crap, as only a friend who really loves you can say.

Later that night I read some powerful words that a wise man said to his son, Ralph Moody, nearly a hundred years ago:

"You know, a man's life is a lot like a boat. If he keeps his sail set right it doesn't make too much difference which way the wind blows or which way the current flows. If he knows where he wants to go and keeps his sail trimmed carefully he'll come into the right port. But if he forgets to watch his sail till the current catches him broadside he's pretty apt to smash up on the rocks."

All I know is that I had a mouthful of gritty sand and that I was a long way off the course. Once I got my little boat off the rocks and back on course it was very apparent to me just how far off the course I had been. My boat must have been careening willy-nilly all over the lake, crashing into other water craft, dragging bottom across rocks and who knows what else.

As I focused my myopic eyes looking through my newfound lens I was disheartened to see the level of neglect in my "wifering", mothering and "householdering". Good thing I am married to a strong and independent individual with a sense of humor because he seems the most intact of the three.

As for the children, where is Nanny McPhee when you need her? It's like the children who live in our home have either lost their hearing a.k.a. Helen Keller's difficult early years; or they no longer speak English - seriously, "Do you not understand the words that are coming out of my mouth?!?" as Chris Rock hollered at Jackie Chan. It is also possible that they have become characters from the book "Lord of the Flies". Because of my sailboat detours, this week at our house has been Baby Boot Camp only I don't get to cuss anyone out or call them derogatory names to make them feel like certain kinds of ants. There is no barking, "Drop down and give me 50!!" You know, that would be waay easier than trying to discipline in love - hopefully including patience - along with the giving of encouraging words while trying to keep the lectures and yelling to a minimum (that's where the duct tape across my mouth comes in). The poor little tykes have needed a lot more direction than I had been giving them and it's been a long week for all of us. Those drill sergeants don't even know the meaning of boot camp. I now understand the words, "This hurts me more than it hurts you."

As for the home, it looks like a bunch of hogs live here - not that it's a new look or anything - but now I feel like I have permission to focus on some care and keeping of it instead of the bunch of frenetic add-on activities that I usually succumb to.

And last but not least, the following of Jesus. Well, we're working things out. I felt emboldened enough to asked Him the same question his cousin, John the Baptist, once asked of Him, and you'd think John would know his own cousin better than this, "Are you the Christ or should we look for another?"
True to form Jesus reminded me of His miraculous signs from then and now and asked,
"Who do you say that I am?"
So that's where He and I are at but that's a post for another late night.

Twist of Lemon with That?

I wish I could say that I am the quintessential pastor's wife who is full of wisdom and grace and able to singlehandedly create - and lead - amazing ministries out of the miry clay. The truth lately is that I spend more time in the miry clay than I do outside of it.

I'm not gonna lie to you, my faith is on the rocks. Too bad "faith on the rocks" does not contain alcohol because at least that would numb my senses. It's not because of the miscarriage - I actually felt this way before that happened, although experiencing that loss did not help. Depression, compounded by grief, compounded by the relentless pressures of the church plant, compounded by emotional unhealth: in case you were wanting the recipe for the drink. If you mix it correctly it should come out in a perfect Barbie doll pink.

Basically my spiritual life isn't amazingly great and I don't want a bunch of moronic Christianese cliches as to how to "get back on track". I'm not off the track. I still think God is real but I am extremely frustrated with all of this crap and the feeling that I am missing something spiritually. The cliches only serve to infuriate me anyway. If there was a punching bag that spouted cliches I would have pulverized it by now. (If I were really honest I would include all the expletives that are involved in the alternate conversation in my head.)

"God is in control" *POW*
"This is all part of God's perfect plan." *WHAMMO*
"Let go and let God." *BLAM-BLAM-BLAM"

Yeah, whatever. None of those things mean anything to me. All the rotten things that happen in this world aren't part of God's plan. Why the hell would God's perfect plan include murder, rape, mutilation, abuse, war, AIDS, starvation, disease, and all the other hard or heinous things in this world? It's just bad theology to suggest such a thing. GOD IS GOOD NOT EVIL. God doesn't inflict evil things upon us to "teach us a lesson" or "build our character" - if He did that He would be abusive, not loving. People make choices to participate in some of these heinous acts and God is not in control of that; He allows humans to choose whatever they will. God is sovereign but that is another matter.

So what is my problem? I'm tired. I want to go live in a cabin in the woods for a month where I can be still and know that God is God. I often hear of others who go on pilgrimages to Buddhist monasteries or Ashrams and this seems like a good idea to me. (I know that I said hiding out in a monastery is cowardly in a previous blog. I am not contradicting myself. I am suggesting the value of going there for restoration purposes rather than to hide from life's problems for an indefinite amount of time like Sister Maria tried in The Sound of Music.) The closest thing we have in Christendom is a Catholic monastery; however, I am not Catholic and some of our beliefs would differ. Many churches host so-called retreats; I have yet to find any rest or restoration on one of these seminar-filled, activity-packed venues. Going to a cabin in the woods sounds more realistic since there ain't much else to choose from. Many Christians don't seem to value mystery or mystics much; a jam-packed seminar will keep our little minds off the greater mysteries of our existence. However, these mysteries have become a deafening part of my existence and there is no drowning them out. As I say to my husband, "I'm not a typical pastor's wife - I am the kooky-mystic-writer person who doesn't fit the profile and doesn't do any of the expected pastor's wife things." (This may be why I feel like a crazy person. What's with those perfect go-getters?!)

Jesus specifically talks about doing the impossible with God's power. How does that work exactly? And if my faith is too small will God make it bigger? I really want to know the answer to this question and my heart hurts for the not knowing. What about seeing people healed? What about my own healing? I have so many questions for God and some of them need answers here on earth, not just in the hereafter. There have been human beings who knew God on a whole other plane than the one that I am currently on and I need to be where they were in their understanding of God and in their relationship with Him.
What I really long for is restoration. I long to have a clear picture of the health vs. the unhealth in my life so that I can make better decisions. I am weary of making bad decisions based on guilt or pride or just plain pigheadedness and then hating my life because of it. Right now I am helping co-lead children's ministry. For anyone who knows me well, you know that this is neither a gift nor a passion area for me. I have never dreamed of doing this. I have never wanted to do this. I have dreaded doing this. So, basically, I am an idiot right now that I am even doing this and then wailing, "But if I don't do it who will?!" Doesn't exactly sound like a decision made by a healthy person, right? Maybe what's on the rocks is all of this cliched, guilt-inducing, perfect-pastor's wife nonsense that is ruining my life, not my faith. I dunno. It's hard to differentiate.

When life hands you lemons...
slice them up and garnish your drink with them.
Instead of the little umbrellas, serve with a Barbie head on a swizzler stick.

Being Present

Sometimes I think we suffer too much alone during these things and it sure does help to have friends and people who offer encouragement and love and prayers and it really doesn't matter if you are hundreds or thousands of miles away because I still feel your support somehow. The older (and hopefully, wiser) I get the more I want to reach out and be present for other people and have them be present for me. Hopefully this is a safe place.

A Grief Observed

"I thought I could describe a state; make a map of sorrow. Sorrow, however, turns out to be not a state but a process." -C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

C.S. Lewis wrote these words in a book I will soon read because those few thoughts resonated with me. A friend of mine uses the word "process" in conjunction with the word grieving, as in "processing through it".

Where am I in the process?

Well, yesterday I felt very alone in the process. Not only that, I felt lost. I felt as though what had happened was a blip on the screen; life went on and we had to move forward in the pursuit of other happenings. Some of you know that our first "official" gathering for the church plant is this Sunday. Needless to say, life goes on whether you are ready for it to go on or not. In this case, I don't feel ready and instead feel rushed in my grieving to scurry ahead and to shelve my grief over the loss of our baby so that I can do all the things that I need to do on Sunday. In the past, this would include me being unnaturally cheerful and "strong" in the face of my circumstances. But, no, that is not who I am. Nor is it who I want to be. There are too many plastic people walking around out there with perky Barbie doll expressions that no one can relate to as it is. But guess what? I'm just finding out that most people don't relate to grief either. My "processing" friend observed that she had almost no one to walk with her through her own grief when a friend of their family died in a tragic accident that they witnessed. There was almost no one to talk it through with in the months afterwards and she struggled through much of it alone and feeling unheard.

Why is it that we have education up the wazoo - degrees, certificates, licenses - but when it comes to healthy communication skills, healthy conflict resolution skills, and healthy relating-to-others-and-engaging-in-their-lives-skills we are woefully unequipped??
Why are we so afraid of being present in the suffering of others? Why do we draw back when others shed tears or voice their hurts, or rage, or doubts or fears?

"Grief is like a long valley, a winding valley where any bend may reveal a totally new landscape." That is how Lewis describes it. It is a journey in and of itself, not an event to get over. I suppose that if we have never experienced grief then we may observe it to be a process which ought to be gone through in an allotted time span. It doesn't work that way though. In some respects, life is a series of losses and our hearts never forget those losses. I was at the San Diego Zoo a couple years ago and I passed by the aviaries containing the Bird of Paradise birds. When I heard their particular bird-calls, I was flooded with sadness and a sense of loss and I literally began to cry right there in front of their cages. I had not heard their calls for over 13 years, back when I lived in Papua New Guinea where I had heard those same mournful cries from the rainforest surrounding our home in our village and our home at our regional centre. My mind could not have recalled their call if it had tried but my heart knew it instantly.

Grief is held in our hearts even though it is our minds that try to make sense of it.
I suppose that processing through another's grief with them requires that our hearts engage their hearts.

These are my preliminary observations.

Bitter/Sweet

Conversation in the bathroom between my four year old daughter and I regarding the loss of our baby:

HER: (perplexed look) "Why is your potty red, Mommy?
ME: "It's not red; it's blood."

She goes to bed. Later she comes back to use the toilet. I am in the bathtub.

HER: "Mommy, why do you need to get clean in the bathtub?"
ME: "I don't feel very well so it's helping me to feel better being in the nice warm water."
HER: "Why don't you feel very well?"
ME: (deep sigh, look of indecision) "Well... we were going to have a baby but now we're not because the baby died."
HER: (sighs, sounds sad) "MMM-mmm... What baby? Where was the baby?"
ME: "It was in my tummy. it was only about this big (holding up fingers to measure about an inch) but it died."
HER: (face lights up) "I have an idea, Mom! I have a mouse! It can swim! The mouse can go down the toilet and get the baby out!"
(we had been listening to the story of Stuart Little, the mouse, on CD earlier)
ME: "That's a good idea, honey, but it's too late - the baby already died."
HER: (sadly) "Oh-h!" (pausing to think) but why do babies die, Mommy?"
ME: "I don't know, honey."
HER: (contemplative) "Sometimes that's just the way it is, Mom."
ME: "Yep. That's true."
HER: (lighting up again) "But, Mom, my mouse can swim! It can swim down there - it's a girl one, not a boy one - and it can swim down there and take care of the baby!"
ME: "Okay, honey!"
HER: (scampers out of the bathroom) "Good night, Mommy!"
ME: "Good night, sweetheart. I love you!"

These are the best days of my life and the sweetest moments, regardless of the pain.

Poet Life

"Draw forth the sword of success from out of the iron of circumstance"

"If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it, blame yourself. Tell yourself that you are not poet enough to call forth its riches. For to the creator there is no poverty and no poor, indifferent place." -Ranier Maria Rilke

Going Retro

Yeah, what does motivate us to "minister to" those people on "the other side of the tracks"? If you ask me, humans have a lot of pride. I read a quote recently that, "If Jesus were on earth you'd find him in a gay bar in San Francisco. He'd be working with people suffering from AIDS. These people are the new lepers. If you want to find out where Jesus would be hanging out it'll always be with the lepers."

If that's true then I must be a leper because He hangs out with me and I know that He hangs out with several of my friends and they still have all of their body parts intact. It seems like those who make a religion out of social causes like to put the "Jesus-stamp-of-approval" on what they are doing because it makes them seem more spiritually mature or aware. No doubt many of them care deeply, as do I, about people who are suffering. I believe wholeheartedly in caring for others, for sure, but what is our motivation when we help the "lepers" of society?

Jesus did not, in fact, "always" hang out with the lepers. He actually spent much of His time with a motley band of 12 men. He also hung out with every type of person imaginable: blue-collar stiffs, federal workers, desperate housewives, religious leaders and religious nut-balls, military men, average Joes, his family, the wealthy elite, social climbers, the handicapped, the "mentally" ill, and the terminally ill; three groups of people who were usually homeless. He was not exclusive about who He spent time with. Jesus hung out with anyone who wanted to hang out with Him. If someone indicated that they didn't want to spend their time with Him then He politely went on His way. He wasn't out to peddle himself to people. He also wasn't trying to make Himself look better by hanging out with all these people.

We forget this but we are all broken. There isn't a soul out there who does not have some level of brokenness. If Jesus is the standard and being like Him is the standard, I am here to tell you that none of us can ever reach that standard. We might as well try to fly to the moon. Even if we practice jumping all day long we will never build up enough muscle to get ourselves up there. If we climb the tallest building we are still millions of miles away. A few people get on board airplanes and claim to be pretty close but they haven't even broken the earth's atmosphere. So is my only option is to go to Kennedy and steal a space shuttle? The problem is, I would need millions of dollars to pay the highly-skilled burglers who would do the job for me and I still wouldn't have a clue how to fly the darn thing. I'm too old to be chosen for the NASA program - not that I would have ever been chosen to begin with - I don't possess the right set of skills to "get in". There is just no getting me on the moon.

Even if I do hang out with the "lepers", it ain't gonna make me any more perfect. (And, oh, how they love being referred to as "the lepers"!!!?)
The only way that I can achieve the standard is to allow God to take my broken self and adopt me into His family and then to see me forevermore as one of His own. There is no ladder to climb or set of rules to follow perfectly. There is no hiding out in some monastery like a coward, trying to avoid the evils of this world so that I can attain more perfection. Perfection is such a futile goal because it is absolutely not possible by any of the standards out there.

The amazing thing is that God sees me as if I am on the moon not as if I am still gravity-bound by earth. There is a tremendous amount of mystery in that for me; I don't comprehend it but it does give me a peace and sense of reassurance that I cannot duplicate through any of my own notions of "spiritual disciplines". No matter how many disciplines I were to practice it would not get me to the moon and that is where I wish to be when it comes to God. I am just going to trust Him on this one even though it sounds totally nuts. (See Ephesians for further insight)

I always thought moon boots were cool anyway.
And what about the Moonwalk, baby? Way cool.
Guess I am going retro.

Official Statement

That's all I have to say.

People-People, Part Deux

My computer has been away for a couple weeks so I have not been writing or checking email much.

I meant to write "People-People, Part Deux" awhile ago but it turned out that I didn't get a chance to. Recent adventures, while rife with humor, gave me pause for thought...

The other night my friends "Molly" and "Jill" had a hankering to go sing Karaoke. In our two-horse town there are only a couple places to do this: in the Bar/Lounge of one of the hotels and at this - shall we say - quaint little dive where I fully spent the whole two hours expecting a bar-fight to erupt at any moment. Not to mention that "Jill's" observation of the bar-folk was that they all seemed to have some sort of nervous system disorder due to the way they were dancing.

How does this relate to engaging in community, you ask? Let me tell you. When we walked into the dive, my pal "Molly" felt right at home. "Jill" did not necessarily feel quite so much at home but she was friendly and down-to-earth nonetheless - it also helped that some of her family reunions resembled the crowd we were mingling amongst. And then there was me - the designated driver who did not have any of the advantages of alcohol to carry me through. I was hooked at the hip to "Jill" and let me just say that I was as stiff as a board. It was not helping that we were being flanked by short, googly-eyed guy who was making lewd references to sex, something about nipple-twisting, and Lynyrd Skynyrd (the band). It was a good thing his speech was too slurred for us to understand the full scope of his hopes for the evening. We finally managed to elude him - only to later find ourselves faced with gangly tattoo guy whose lewd references included mention to genital size as well as a high level of f-word usage as an attempt to impress us with his sexual prowess and wishes for the near future with either of us. I could not have imagined a night of ecstasy with either of these hapless fellows even if I had imbibed upon an entire bottle of any sort of alcoholic beverage. It is beyond my creative powers to envision such a thing.

It was actually a blessed relief to sit and chat with Kyle - the young fellow who first introduced us to the quaint dive. At least all he did was show me pictures of his three boys and then tried to give me his phone number to which I kindly demurred that I was married, and thus he said that he was sorry for trying to give me his number and that he had been married but that his ex-wife was a "f-ing, cheating whore *sorry* but she cheated on me." All this, and he could not have more than 23 years old. Poor guy.

I realized something about myself though, and it is that I am a snob. When I described my impression of the place I used some unfavorable words about a certain neighborhood, I am ashamed to say, and it's made me realize that no amount of saying that I have nothing against those people is true if I can say something like that. It's like when people make references to those people who live "on the other side of the tracks". I don't want to be someone who refers to others in a derogatory manner and these were the words that came to me at the realization of my snobbery:

"No good tree bears bad fruit, nor does a bad tree bear good fruit. Each tree is recognized by its own fruit. People do not pick figs from thorn bushes, or grapes from briers. The good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart, and the evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart. For out of the overflow of his heart his mouth speaks."

You can probably guess who said those words. (Jesus, in Luke 6:43-45) I can't deny the truth of those words. That was the overflow of my heart and it was contempt. Granted, most of my contempt was aimed at being treated like a piece of meat which is something that I utterly despise; I cannot stand the user/consumer approach when it comes to sex. My contempt would be just as great for a Manhattan-ite, or a Londoner, or any guy, anywhere, treating me like a conquest. On the other hand, I was at a bar at 1:30 in the morning amongst a bunch of people so blubbering drunk that the bartender was refusing to serve some of them drinks. In other words, if I actually expect to be treated like the lady that I consider myself to be when in that scenario then I am completely out of my gourd.

The whole thing made me realize that it is absolutely essential to separate the behavior from the person. Yes people are responsible for their choices; however, a person's worth is not based upon their behavior. It is a broken person who pursues others in such a way as to not even care who they are but to only want sex from them. It's a broken person who tells you more than once how "f-ed up" he was as a kid and how much trouble he got into, and who is now alone, without much support as the father of three small children. I don't need to go on but I can say that I saw a lot of loneliness and misplaced longing in the eyes of some of those people.

We are all broken at some level; we are each in different places as far as healing and restoration go. Some people are only in for more brokenness due to their inability to make better choices. I found out that I don't want to engage in community with someone who is that broken because I know that I can't trust that person. Even if there is prudence in that, it still shouldn't stop me from behaving in a compassionate manner,at the very least, instead of behaving like a snob.

It would also help not to go to bars at 1:30 AM when people are at their worst but are thinking it is their best.

Being People-People

I've been thinking a lot about community. You know me, I dislike any word that has become a buzz-word. "Being in community," "Doing community," "Having community," "Creating a sense of community"..... and other such buzz-wordish phraseology.

This is always what happens. Always: Someone "gets it" and goes out and lives it and it is genuine and brilliant and beautiful and then the herd of sheep absently munching grass in the field get all excited about what the one sheep is doing and try to turn it into a formulaic concept. We have all done this. You have, I have - even the two-steps-ahead sheep has done this before. We are liars if we say we are exempt from buying in to great ideas at times.


Being part of a community is tough. We live in the most individualistic society in the world. (It is so true that I can write it and you will nod your head in agreement even though neither of us has done any research to see if there are any other countries that compete with our level of individualism.) And we have continued on in our pursuit of individualism. Futurist Faith Popcorn predicted in the 1990's that we would see a trend she called "Cocooning" in America. Cocooning being that our homes would be our sanctuaries - we would shop from home, eat-in at home, go to movies at home. Now we have the internet and movie theatre seating and elaborate sound systems and food delivery services galore. We need to stop this terrible trend toward self-seclusion because it is really just self-absorption to the extreme. We have actually bought into Burger King's motto, "Have it your way" as a lifestyle.

In direct contrast, those who are mature operate from a place where they ask these two questions:
Is it the right thing to do?
Does it express ultimate love and truth?
The mentality "having it your way" doesn't even come close to asking these questions.

All of my buzz-word prejudices aside, I'm beginning to understand what living within community is about. John Donne understood it long ago when he penned the words, "No man is an island." Being in kinship with others provides strength and hope and love and protection. However, it also requires something of us. It requires that we engage in the lives of others and that we offer strength and hope and love and protection. Being part of community requires that we develop a cooperative spirit.

Now, more than ever, I believe that functioning well within community is something that we learn to do, it is not something that is inherent to our natures. Learning to engage in people's lives is a process that calls for our participation. Initiating contact with others is a maturity issue not a personality issue. Being extroverted or introverted merely means that we have different limits as to our level of interaction with others and our ability to process what went on during our times of interaction. We say, "I'm not a people person," or "he is a people person" to excuse ourselves for the fact that we do not begin conversations with others, waiting instead for them to come talk to us. If community is the sum of who we are as individuals then it is going to be pretty pathetic if we all sit by on our park benches waiting for others to approach us. Ironically, it is usually those who are spectators of community who do the most whining about how they don't feel connected or how they feel lonely and misunderstood.

I was given some insight regarding feelings recently while talking to my four-year-old. She tries so hard to express herself but unfortunately the sum of her expression is, "I'm MAD!" I've been trying to figure out how to give her more words to express her feelings. Then it came to me: talking about how we feel is only the beginning. The next step as we mature is to express what we need or want. The feeling itself is not the end; it is the beginning of the process. For instance, all children go around whining that they are hungry or thirsty. My response to that is, "Thanks for the information - are you making a statement or asking a question?"
Feeling hungry for what?
Food? Companionship? Entertainment? Intellectual stimulation? Good music? A trek into the wilderness? A way to express yourself artistically?

When we are in relationship we have to identify what we need or want from others - which is often based upon our feelings - and then express it:

"I'm mad; I didn't get what I wanted and I need to know that I can still hope for good things in the future."
"I am feeling hurt. I could really use a hug and some encouraging words."
"I am so excited about this. I would love for you to share in my excitement."
"I am feeling lonely. Would it be possible for us to hang out and just talk?"
"That really made me feel rejected. I need to know that I am valued by you."
"I feel unloved. I want to hear that I am lovable. I need to know what you see in me. I need to know that you care... I want to hear about my potential and about God's potential for me."

If all we do is sit by and expect others to know what we are wanting or needing then community will never seem to work because we will have never engaged ourselves in the process. We cannot mistakenly believe that we are entitled to have community our way or that we are somehow exempt of law of "reaping and sowing". St. Francis of Assisi illuminated these simple concepts of creating effective community:

...Oh Divine Master, grant that I may not
so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand; to be loved
as to love; for it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned...

Our growth within community is about the ultimate good for others, not just for ourselves. Beyond that, it is about the ultimate good for for everyone, not just for the individual. That is the sum of what Jesus lived and died and rose again for. He sure wasn't living down here in our messy world so that His own wants - or even needs - could be met. Talk about being misunderstood. Nobody got what He was about while He lived on earth. Even now we struggle to get what He was about - it's a learning process; spectators will never be satisfied and nor should they expect to be:

It's not about "having it your way". It's not "all about me".

It's about US. We have to become "People-People".