Bittersweet: Knees or Buns

I'm just thrilled to tell you that my friend Nancy is guest blogging today on Shauna Niequist's Bittersweet (part of a series I started here and here). She's a fabulous writer (published here in the Denver post, and on her own blog, Big Harmony). Nancy has developed that rare trick of being outspoken and thoughtful, and she's a kick-- both in print and in person. It's an honor to be able to introduce you.

Bittersweet: Knees or buns?

I enjoyed Shauna Niequist’s essays in “Bittersweet—Thoughts on Change, Grace, and Learning the Hard Way”, because they reminded me of the pain and joy of being a new wife and mother. I think this is a particularly difficult time in women’s lives if they choose this path in their twenties. Formerly an independent, care-free and out-to-change- the-world girl, a new mother easily becomes weighed down, beholden to the bully twins of guilt and worry. Suddenly, instead of taking the world by storm, the world seems to be taking her for a ride. She wonders: If I am no longer that confident young woman I used to be, who am I now?

I remember feeling exactly the same way. Looking back at this time in my life, I think the greatest horrifying surprise of young adulthood is the realization that life doesn’t owe you a thing. We have no guarantees. We control very little. It is by the grace of God that we are here in the first place and in His infinite mercy that we remain.

As Tom Petty wrote in the song, “American Girl”, we females, of the American middle- class at least, are raised on promises. Adulthood in America, particularly for young mothers, is a process of realizing that these “promises” of fairness and glorious self-fulfillment we were taught as children are, more oftentimes than not, fantasy. Easy answers don’t exist. Choices evaporate before our very eyes. In early adulthood, many of the soft landing places disappear. We have to learn the hard way.

God. It’s so painful.

I remember the pain. But, having survived that turbulent time, I have learned to trust in the one true promise: Emmanuel, God With Us, is always with us. Even in the chaos— the miscarriages, the divorces, the career failures—He never leaves us. This realization has given me a confidence I never had as a younger person. The confidence of youth is akin to the proverbial bull in a china shop. In middle age, it becomes Ferdinand, the bull from the children’s classic book, simply sniffing the flowers under a cork tree while the rest of the bulls wear themselves out competing and showing off. At this point, I am finally sure that my life, with all its imperfections, is unfolding the way it is meant to.

However, I still am not always confident in me. Her chapter, “Knees or Buns”, was a wake-up call. Shauna speaks of her young son and how, as the child rearing experts have recommended, she and her husband give him a choice of how to sit at the table. He may not stand. He must either be on his knees or buns. She likens this faux “choice” to her writing process. She may write at her desk or on her bed but she must be writing. She may not surf the web. Or pick up toys. Or plan that night’s dinner.

I love to write, too, but oftentimes spend more time on Facebook leaving comments than doing substantive work. I love having a relationship with God but can’t seem to pray regularly. Like a spiritual toddler, I want to stand at the proverbial table of life and just…do what I want to do, when I want to do it.

In my heart, I know that having too many choices leads to inaction and worse yet…a self-centered life. Although I know that Emmanuel is with me, that I trust Him, I still ignore Him. He is gently admonishing me every day, “Knees or buns, Nancy!”….but, I do not want to make eye contact. I look the other way and pretend He’s not there. I get all the way to the edge of doing something important in my life and I stop short.

Why? Perhaps, I fear failure. Or success. Worse yet, I probably just lack discipline. In middle age, I do not have the constant presence of two loving parents nudging me into compliance. I no longer have two small children distracting me from the truth. I have to nudge myself to listen to that still, small voice. And then, act.

Perhaps the trials of young adulthood prepare us to surrender our false expectations of ourselves and the world. As difficult as it is to let go of something we love, to sink to our knees in defeat before reality…I am finding that, in middle age, it can be just as arduous to get off my buns and become the person I have learned, the hard way, that I am meant to be.
-Nancy B.

Bittersweet: Stories

There are two myths we tend to believe about our stories: the first is that they're about us, and the second is that because they're about us, they don't matter. But they're not only about us, and they matter more than ever right now. When we, any of us who have been transformed by Christ, tell our own stories, we're telling the story of who God is.
-Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet

I suspect that most bloggers have encountered the discreet eye-roll from time to time (I know I have, and I choose to believe it's not completely personal). Blogs are self-indulgent, pointless, and filled with oversharing. I used to feel really self-conscious about it. Sometimes I'd post, but feel too embarrassed to link to Facebook (i.e., risk larger exposure). Honesty is also vulnerability, and I've never been particularly convinced that people would like me more if they knew me better.

Any encounter with human beings (including time spent alone) can be self-indulgent and tedious. But I come back because any encounter where we're being as open as we know how to be has within it the potential to heal, to be redemptive, comforting, and life-giving. Sometimes stories are in-person, and other times they're in print, but either way they're vital.

Spiritual direction is like that, too. ABSOLUTELY it can be tedious. But what I've loved about spiritual direction is the discovery that, just by telling someone else my story, I'm able to see God in it more clearly. I sit down with V, often not knowing where to begin, and by the end of the hour I've recognized God in a place I didn't notice before. I settle into her cozy office, stuffed with books, pillows, and as many kinds of soft fabrics as can possibly belong in one room, and first we notice God in the room, and then we notice God in my life. This past month reminded me of God's humor, something I'm often too self-absorbed to notice within the bustling corridors of my own mind.

When I sit with someone, the same things happen. Sometimes I learn a new attribute of God through a directee's experience, and sometimes the feelings that arise in me call me to investigate (at a later time, mind) something in my relationship with the divine.

Above all, I'm reminded through my stories and those I'm blessed to hear, that God accompanies us through everything, though we don't always feel it. Heartache, rage, fear, joy, all of it. Hearing other people's stories makes it clearer that God isn't a stained-glass, sanitized, prudish local official, but a big, messy, protective, tender mystery. We hear so many cliches filled with really dishonest, sanctimonious theology, and it's cleansing to hear about all the dirty, broken places where God has been with us. When I was suspended during my undergrad years, my mother passed one story after story of successful people she'd met who had done the same damn thing-- it was the kindest gift she could have given me. Their stories were my hope. My story might be your hope, or at least your companionship.

Our stories matter.

Hope and Mental Health

Mental health services in this country are a hot mess (and in rural areas they're worse than that even). The New York Times published this great article on Dr. Marsha Linehan, who has been both a patient and a provider. She's been there, and she's come out the other side. Thank God for her honesty, and her hard work. The more people talk about what works, how healing happens, that healing CAN happen, the more likely people are to get well. And that has long been one of my most fervent prayers.

Maybe Leo can explain better than I can why Dr. Linehan's work and story matter:

Fresh Shoes

I love new running shoes. LOVE THEM. Like I love new notebooks and pencils, like some people love new cars.

Though I am still healing, I am getting stronger, and I have many miles ahead of me.

I love all the scenery I haven't passed on them yet; all the trees, birds, squirrels, herons, creeks, berries, and dogs I'll pass.

I love the meditative rhythm ahead, the steady pace these shoes will carry me through.

I love the fast strides still unsprinted, the half mile at the end where we'll let loose together.

I love the esprit de corps they'll facilitate, the sweaty companionship that's different from sedentary friendship.

I love the way they'll strengthen my marriage. Running together reminds us of our individual strengths, and of the efforts it sometimes takes to stay together.

Running shoes: Composition of Hope in Rubber.

Nuts

I've mentioned before how much I love squirrels-- remember? An interesting squirrel fact: if a squirrel believes someone has watched him bury a nut, he'll dig it up and re-bury it elsewhere. He assumes everyone wants to take his nut, and he's secretive and peculiar in response. He'll freeze, paw-deep in his soil safe-deposit box, cheeks bulging to triple their size, and try to look nonchalant. What nut?

I get squirrelly with God sometimes. While I was applying for the LTS/LGH Chaplaincy program, I was doing it with open paws. Whether I was accepted or not, I was in God's hands, and I didn't need to grasp at any particular outcome.

Since I've been accepted, I've gotten nervous that God might notice I've found such a delightful treat and take it away. (I bet I don't have to tell you how much this attitude interferes with gratitude.) Isn't it ridiculous? I'm just as goofy and absurd as those little bushy-tailed creatures. I don't really think that God wants to take good things away from me, any more than I want to steal someone's acorn.

I could give myself a stern lecture, but giggling and rolling my eyes is enough to make me less grasping, more open. Even if something happens to my plans, God will be with me, and there is good ahead. The mental picture of myself, cheeks full and eyes wide with faux-innocence, is enough to restore perspective. Surely, I make God laugh.

Wednesday Prayers: Taking Chances

I've got good news: I've gotten into Lancaster Theological Seminary's new Chaplaincy track MDiv. I'm really excited. I'm excited for SO many reasons:

• The interview/application process was wonderful. I felt at ease, I was able to be myself, and I met people I really enjoyed.
• I've had a small relationship with the seminary for years, and I love that I'll be able to do something new with people I already trust and respect.
• I've been murmuring about chaplaincy for years-- ever since I began the Episcopal ordination process. It got shoved in the corner for a while, and started popping back up when I resigned. This God-nudge is not a new thing.
  
• It's a brand-new program, and it's so fun for me to be there from the very beginning.

There's more than that-- honestly, there's so much more than that, and even though I've been accepted, somehow I'm afraid that by articulating how great this is, I'll jinx it.

And that's where my prayers are this week. They're half praise, and half petition. Praise for the exciting opportunity, for three years to study what I love and practice it. Petition for my fear and hesitation. I've long said that dating after divorce seems to be one of the most courageous things people can do. In the ongoing relationship analogy of vocation and discernment, I'm about to go steady.

Pray for me, y'all.

Bittersweet Introduction: Girlfriends

About a year ago (give or take), I picked up a copy of Shauna Niequist's book, Bittersweet. I don't know how to tell you about it, except to say that the whole book (even-- especially?-- the parts where I didn't see eye to eye with her) was like spending time with a girlfriend.

Now, I want to be clear: not all women friends are girlfriends. That's not to say those other relationships are unimportant. I'm grateful for mentors and colleagues, fellow hobbyists and buddies, but girlfriends are something distinct. There's a spiritual element to a girlfriend relationship for me. There's laughter, honesty, bickering, encouragement, but most of all, there's a willingness to know and love each other's souls.

Shauna's book (I know I ought to be using her last name, as she's the author, but doesn't that fly in the face of what I'm saying here?) isn't about girlfriends. It's about a holy awareness that life is bittersweet, which her introduction describes like this:

Bittersweet is the idea that in all things there is both something broken and something beautiful, that there is a sliver of lightness on even the darkest of nights, a shadow of hope in every heartbreak, and that rejoicing is no less rich when it contains a splinter of sadness.

As Shauna talks about the light and dark in her own life, intimate spiritual friendships are central to her stories. Even when her relationships aren't part of a particular chapter, the feelings and experiences she offers are exactly what we share with those special women who show us enough grace that we can grow in front of them (which generally involves being in pain in front of them).

A few months ago, I bought 5 more copies. I mailed them off to women I really like: a girlfriend from middle school, one from high school, one from college, and two women whom I've suspected for a while have girlfriend potential. Shauna's book felt like such an invitation to friendship that I wanted to use it to foster my own. Three of those five women are regular writers, and so I asked if they'd be willing to use Shauna's stories as springboards for their own. We're all having crazy summers, unexpectedly off-kilter, so I'm not sure exactly how this series will go, but it'll be an adventure.

I'm often not a good girlfriend. I'm slow to reply to email, liable to write a letter instead, making the recipient wait a good deal longer than she hoped. I get impatient, jealous, short-tempered, petty, and insecure. But I feel called to be a girlfriend. Truly, genuinely, called by God to honor those precious women that I laugh, cry and learn with.

I almost sent Bittersweet to a few of you bloggy friends, too. (There's a strong Texas contingent that nearly got a handful). If you feel so moved, pick up a copy, and join my other guest bloggers in our series. I suspect it'll go on for a while (if only because of lackadaisical planning on my part).

Wednesday Prayers: The Big C

I just finished reading what might be the finest piece of nonfiction I've ever read, Siddhartha Mukherjee's Emperor of All Maladies. Mukherjee calls it a biography of cancer, it might be more descriptive to call it a history of cancer research and treatment. Fascinating and human, it was a remarkably well-told story.

You can't swing a cat without hitting someone affected by cancer, be they survivors or loved ones. This week, I'm praying for those with new diagnoses, trying to learn their new normal. I'm offering gratitude with survivors. I'm praying for those who have lost loved ones-- like my aunt, whose best friend died of breast cancer about 10 years ago. I'm praying for patients, caretakers, doctors, researchers. I'm especially praying that, as I go about my routine, I extend as much grace as possible, because those around me may have secret struggles, cancer being just one of them.

Will you pray with me?

A New Practice: See It, Do It

A couple of months ago, I was in a waiting room and stumbled across a great magazine article. (Several Google searches later, I still can't find the piece or the writer's name, so if this rings a bell, please help me give correct attribution!)

The author was talking about people who drive you crazy-- and how, as a general rule, if we notice something aggravating, it's because we do it, too. She suggested, when someone is driving you clean out of your gourd, that you write them a letter clearly outlining the obnoxious things that they do, and why you don't like the behavior.

Don't mail it.

Scratch out their name.

Substitute your own.

I tried it recently. I felt pretty anxious when I started (no kidding, right?), but set the timer for 15 minutes (because I can do scary things if it's only for a finite period of time). I tried to be as honest as possible (despite knowing that honesty was likely to bite me in the butt in a matter of minutes).

Here's what I noticed: I definitely do some of the things that annoy me in others. BUT, reading about it wasn't the terrible flogging I anticipated. Don't get me wrong, even as I was scrawling across the page, I thought to myself, "Well, crap." But the bigger feeling was gratitude, because I can't change something until I can see it.

I don't want to live a life where I fool myself into smugness and self-satisfaction. Discomfort is hope, because it's an indication of an unseen possibility, an opportunity to become more than I am right now. Jesus's command to take the log out of my eye first is not just a reprimand, but an invitation and encouragement. It's exciting to me when someone things I can be more than I am, and God always thinks that. This exercise is a great way to stay conscious of God's ongoing invitation to be more.

Wednesday Prayers: Tuscaloosa

I got a text from my mom on Monday-- she's headed to Tuscaloosa with a church group to do some tornado relief. They'll be down there for about a month. Mom is phenomenally good in any sort of crisis (and the week I got married she was damn near a superhero). She's had all sorts of relevant training, and she's an incredibly creative problem-solver.

All this month, I'll be praying for that trip. That her church is able to serve the people in Alabama well. That my mom stays safe, and also that this is a time of peace and fulfillment for her. That both the serving and the served are blessed.

If you wouldn't mind, I'd appreciate your keeping the trip in your prayers, too. Do you have anything you'd like me to add to mine?

Waiting

For a chatterbox, I'm a fairly private person (despite what you see here). When I'm waiting for something, I'm even more so. I've been waiting on a Big Thing for about a month, and until I have a definite answer, conversation stinks. Talking about the Big Thing is not going well. My stance is one of cautious optimism (despite assurances from those in charge that caution is really not necessary). Caution from other people about the Big Thing feels condescending, and excitement feels premature and risky. (Yes, as you can imagine, I'm a delight to be around at the moment.)

So here I am, tentatively excited, but waiting. Wanting to share about what's been a very cool process, and not wanting to get bitten in the ass by it later (because hey, I've been there). I want to find a cave (with a refrigerator that magically holds all kinds of pasta salads) and camp out there until I get official notice one way or another.

What To Ask

I've been interviewing lately, and I'm happy to tell you that I've been invited to ask questions during those conversations. I like questions. In fact, I realized a couple of years ago that one of the compliments that makes me feel best about myself is, "Wow, that's a really good question!"

I have at least one more interview, and it's scheduled for Thursday morning. As I prepare for it, I'm trying to think about questions that I'd like to ask. Specifically, I'm trying to differentiate between things I wonder about, and things I need to know in order to discern well. Anything that's just a question of curiosity will be resolved in time, I can wait and watch to get those answers. I'm looking for questions that declutter, that take away all the ephemera in order to distinguish between what I can and can't live without.

I can live with weird hours.
I can live with stress.
I can live with looking at my mistakes.
I can live without an office of my own.
I can live with turnover and brief encounters.
I won't live with institutionalized meanness.
I won't live with perpetual boredom.
I won't live without faithfulness.
I won't live as someone else.

I'd love to know what you will and won't live without.

Extraordinary

Here's what I have to say about Mother's Day: Some people who are not good-enough mothers are still extraordinary human beings.

A few extraordinary points about my own mother:

• A petite, beautiful blonde, she started her career... in the military... as a welder.
• She is the most creative, optimistic problem-solver I have ever met. She always believes there's a solution, and she doesn't say "can't."
  
• Though an avid reader, she's a skilled member of the learn-by-doing camp. She loves getting her hands dirty, whether it's gardening, remodeling, or some other blend of craftsmanship and hard work.
• She cleans up exceptionally well. I realized recently I've inherited many of my sartorial preferences from her, particularly in the workplace.
• I've lost track of the number of different apartments/base housing units we lived in while I was growing up, but she made each of them beautiful. On a shoestring budget. (She was also a fiercely committed provider.)
  
• Though some mothers are very jealous of their child's affections, she was constantly putting kind, supportive adults in my life.
• She's an excellent writer, and she's a particularly faithful correspondent. She still uses paper and pen, too.
• She's very, very funny, and she laughs hard, which is great fun. (Side note: Dave tells me that our laughter in stereo can be terrifying.)
  
• She's very insightful in situations she has some distance from. She uses this both to give wise counsel, and sometimes just to give abundantly.
• She's passionate about defending justice-- whether it's poverty in Africa or a teacher being rude to a student, she's ready to lead the charge.
  

My mom had an appalling childhood, and simply didn't have the emotional resources to be a good-enough mother. She's struggled with mental health issues for years, and they've proved difficult to manage. I pray that she continues to heal and flourish, and in the meantime, I can celebrate Extraordinary Person Day on Sunday.

Toes

A million years ago (probably about 25, if you're a stickler for that sort of thing), my mom and I used to buy matching sandals at the PX (on-base department store, for you civilians out there). I remember white ones and brown ones, but they all had the same cushy footbed and crossed leather straps.

I saw them about a month ago at Bass, and mentioned my happy shoe memory to Dave. When Easter came around, he popped a pair into my basket. (I'm not quite wearing heels again yet, so last year's sandals are still tucked in a box under the bed.) I wore them for the first time today (SUNSHINE--hallelujah!).

I ride a fine line between grief and fondness in May, with Mother's Day and my mom's birthday just days apart. This is a piece of what that looks like.

Getting Ready

Last week, I picked up a copy of Philip Gambone's Travels in a Gay Nation, and I loved it (more on that later, maybe). I love essays and biography, and this was particularly good.

In one chapter, Bishop Gene Robinson says that he keeps a little piece of paper in front of him during interviews. It says, "It's about God, Stupid." I have a big meeting tomorrow morning. I keep catching myself mentally fussing over it, thinking about how I can be insightful and charming and funny. That's not what it's about, though.

It's about God, Stupid.

(Wouldn't that make a great embroidered sampler?)

Thanks, Gene.

Wednesday Prayer: Resurrections

I'm in an Easter frame of mind, and I'm watching for resurrections, rebirths, and renewal. I'm praying, not just that they happen, but that I see them when they do. That's this week's prayer: to see.

Any chance you have stories to share with me? I'm always grateful for the encouragement of people's stories.

And your prayer this week?

Superstitious

The world is full of possibilities.

Some of them may become realities.

I'd hate to jinx that by talking too much in the interim.

Holy Week Wednesday Prayers: Silence

Nowhere

So, I'm working on my application, and I'm praying, and I'm thinking, and one of my biggest concerns about getting into the program is the likelihood of having a crazy schedule.

I thought to myself, "Is this discernment? Is this God saying it's a bad idea?"

Predictably, I just shoved that thought down for a couple of days.

Then I remembered what happens when I ignore my gut/the Holy Spirit, and sat down and prayed.

The damnedest thing happened. I realized I'm not worried about the tight schedule. Nope. I'm worried that if I have a tight schedule, I'll lose my loved ones. I'm worried that if I'm less available/accessible, I won't be worth the bother of loving.

What a bunch of horseshit.

Bring on the chaos. There's nowhere Love can't go.

Wednesday Prayers: Graces

I'm applying for an MDiv/CPE chaplain-training program, and my interview is Friday. I'm praying for discernment (mine and theirs) but mostly, I'm just praying that I notice the graces in the experience of applying. Independent of the outcome, this can be full of joy or full of fear, and I'm vacillating. I'd really rather chose joy, though.

Will you pray with me? Will you let me know how to pray for you (because you know I'm going to do it, anyway!)?

Wednesday Prayers: Girding My Loins

I have a phone call to return today, and I'm VERY nervous about it. It's the next step (not even a big step) in something that could be SO EXCITING.

I'm going to pray for a while first, because that's the commitment I've made to myself in this venture: pray every single step of the way. Pray before doing anything. I want to stay right in God's hip-pocket on this one. It's too scary not to.

For perspective, for courage, for openness, and for this one step, this one phone call. Will you pray for me, too?

And how about you? How can I be praying for you?

Mix Tape Vol. II: Cities

This Mix Tape partnership that my friend Julie and I have going is just RIDICULOUSLY fun. I'm so surprised at how much fun it is.

After a holiday (both of us) and relocation (her) hiatus, we just swapped discs again. This time, the theme was Cities. I'm learning that making mixes is a lot like novel-writing-- it's impossible to make the story do anything but what it wants. I kept trying to make a mix for a specific place, and my playlist was not having it. Finally, I realized it wanted to be a drive through the different neighborhoods of a city. At the end, it was a damn fun collection, and I'm glad I let it be what it wanted.

On the first mix, I used music I already had. This time, I went hunting for a fair bit, and part of the fun was discovering new stuff. The other great thing was arranging the list once I had the songs. Dave always helps me with that part, and there was a LOT of giggling this time. The pairings got pretty silly. (Alizee --> Right Said Fred, anyone?)

Find a buddy, and start making mixes. Trust me.

1. Shame on You (Indigo Girls)
2. Danza Kuduro (Don Omar)
3. Down at the Twist and Shout (Mary CC)
4. She Asked Me So I Told Her (T-Model Ford)
5. Cleaning Windows (Van Morrison)
6. Rosie (Joan Armatrading)
7. Golden (Jill Scott)
8. Jaco (Yasmin Levy)
9. Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien (Edith Piaf)
10. Moi...Lolita (Alizee)
11. I'm Too Sexy (Right Said Fred)
12. Money, Money, Money (ABBA)
13. Big in Japan (Tom Waits)
14. Womanizer (Britney Spears)
15. Mdlwembe (Zola)
16. Que Onda Guero (Beck)
17. Maria's Wedding (Black-47)
18. I'm Downright Amazed (Atom and His Package)
19. We Built This City (Starship)

My Mother's Daughter

On my way to the optometrist this morning, I saw a bumper sticker so funny that I literally did laugh out loud-- and loudly. It startled me (and made my day), because it sounded exactly like my mom's laugh. That wouldn't be a surprise to anyone who knows us both (though the cackling-in-stereo is unnerving to the uninitiated). She has a fabulous sense of humor, and an incredible ability to find humor hidden in unexpected places. I remember one summer car ride with my mom and my husband-- she and I had invented a game that had us roaring, and poor Dave had no idea what was going on.

I think people believe that estrangement means absence of affection, respect, wonder, admiration, love. In my experience, that's not true at all; I still feel those things for my mom. It's more like taking shelter in a storm, while longing and praying for clear skies.

Open and Affirming

After a a recent local gathering, I mentioned to a friend how frustrated I am with not fitting in here. She asked, "Do you think anyone feels like they fit in?" I've been thinking about that question ever since she asked it, because I've had the sense that we were talking past each other. She was kindly and wisely pointing out that everyone feels different, but that's not what I meant.

When I think of fitting in, I'm not talking about blending in. I cannot imagine a group entirely made up of people like me (merciful heavens). To me, fitting in means that there's space for my unique shape. The puzzle pieces aren't identical, but nobody has to grab the scissors to force everything into place. It's not about homogeneity, it's about acceptance-- and I've had that. I still have that, in a surprising number of places. But I don't have much of it locally, and it's damn lonely. I appreciate the people who really know me so much more now.

Are there places where you fit it, where you're loved (and known) as you are? Is church one of them, or is that a place where people don't really see and hear each other? We talk about Open and Affirming churches as ones that are LGBT friendly, and that's really important to me-- but I wonder, can we take it beyond that? Can we celebrate the craftsmanship displayed in each person's particular self?

I want everyone to be welcome. When I think of call and ministry (which I do, all the bloody time, because I can't get the topic to shut up in my head), over and over I think of hospitality, which I understand to mean welcoming each unique God-beloved soul. And I think that's how people fit it.

Wednesday Prayers: For a Grieving Family

O Comforting One,
Compassionate One,
be with us all
when we suffer loss
and ache with the pain of grieving.
Give us a glimpse
of the way it will be
when love will never be taken away,
when life itself will not be diminished,
when all that we hold most precious
will live and remain with us forever.
-Miriam Therese Winter

I learned today of a family's loss, and I remembered hearing Paula D'Arcy say that anything will be the wrong thing to say to someone grieving-- mentioning the loss will sometimes be wrong, not mentioning the loss will be wrong, too.

I will say the wrong things. But I will still care for those who mourn, and will pray that God can make something of my inadequacy.

The Gym, and Good Old edward estlin

I went to the gym today for the first time since knee surgery (healing got complicated a little, and recovery's taking a bit longer).

It was AMAZING.

I took the Aquafit class. My classmates were all older ladies, and they were so gracious. Despite all being buddies, they were very friendly and helpful to me, the newcomer.

It felt so good to move for an hour.

All I can think is my own modification of an old e.e. cummings poem: "i like my body when it is moving. It is quite so new a thing. Muscles better and nerves more." (Advance warning: the original version is not about Aquafit. Ahem.)

I suspect I'm in the minority here, but I really believe, down in my bones, that we worship God with our bodies, and not just with our hearts and minds. Joy, strength, frustration, weakness: these are all attitudes that bring me to God. Whether I need to heal, or I'm feeling that glorious exhaustion from perfect exertion, I'm powerfully engaged with God's creation: my body.

Wiggle your toes. Stretch your arms and fingers wide. Enjoy the gentle massage across your cheeks as you wash your face tonight. Whatever you can or can't do today, I hope you're finding joy in being incarnate.

Havin' The Blues with Willie

Dave's been working long hours, and headed in this (Saturday) morning.

I may be feeling a little melodramatic about it.

Weekly Prayers: Japan

The Huffington Post has a great list of ways to help Japan.

Otherwise, all I've got is the hope that "Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes^* with sighs too deep for words. And God,^* who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit^* intercedes for the saints according to the will of God." (Rom. 8:26-37, NRSV)²⁷

Polishing Shoes

Last night Dave and I laid awake considering international disasters, political, natural, and nuclear. Overwhelmed, scared, sad, frustrated by our inability to do anything at all. Guilty about our own incredible comfort, conscious of the precarious nature of security.

Prayer felt like a cheap answer. It's truly not, though circumstances like this sometimes breed cheap prayers, prayers that distance "them" from "me," prayers that contain the unspoken belief that we're untouchable, and that disaster and heartbreak are what happen to other people.

Today I polished shoes; it's on my weekly chore list. I still don't know what else to do.

Ash Wednesday Prayer: Small-Minded

At your command all things came to be: the vast expanse of
interstellar space, galaxies, suns, the planets in their courses,
and this fragile earth, our island home.
By your will they were created and have their being.

From the primal elements you brought forth the human race,
and blessed us with memory, reason, and skill. You made us
the rulers of creation. But we turned against you, and betrayed
your trust; and we turned against one another.
Have mercy, Lord, for we are sinners in your sight.
--from Eucharistic Prayer C
BCP p. 370

Considering my own smallness heightens my sense of magnificence. Being a speck in a dazzling universe puffs me up much more than being a Big Fish in any particular pond. Contemplating my brief life, and what will become of my body at the end of it should be an exercise in humility, but instead it's a moment of wonder. When the ocean disappears into the horizon, when the stars speckle the night sky, I feel very small-- and I feel steeped in something immense. It's powerful to behold that sort of magnitude, and while I'm tiny and limited, just the act of recognizing some of the grandeur of our universe makes my soul expand to reflect it.

Today, as we remember that we came from dust and return to it, I'm not feeling expendable. I'm feeling like an intrinsic part of an astonishing world.

How about you? Where in the universe are you today?

Wednesday Prayers: Failure

One article linked to another, and somehow today I stumbled onto the promo information for the Epic Fail Pastors Conference. I'm going to email and beg them to let me (layperson, spiritual director, wanderer in a denominational no-woman's-land, and perpetual discerner) attend. Go check it out yourself-- I've typed half a dozen different explanations, and can't nail the beauty that I see in this offer of integrity and mutual support.

I cried. I kid you not, I cried. The whole concept still has my heart vibrating with the glory and exhilaration of taking risks, of love and joy and freedom and the adrenaline that rushes when you're elbow deep in whatever it is that YOU DO, and to hell with somebody's metrics for success.

I've been in a rut for the last few months, and I've been... tentative, tepid, circumscribed for longer than that. It's a horrible feeling-- like my self is withering. It's harder the older I get. When I was younger, I didn't have responsibilities to anyone else. Today, there's more pressure to remain a manageable, unobstrusive size (spirit-wise, not pants-wise). Freedom is harder. The risks are bigger.

I'd love to know if the payoffs are, too.

Failure is not nearly as big of a deal as shriveling up.

My prayers this week (and for heaven's sake, please help me out here):
Sin boldly.
Fail spectacularly.

What are yours?

Adding to My Chagrin

This afternoon, while tugging the top of my tank top, my hand slipped and I whacked myself in the face. Hurt like the dickens. Was also very, very funny. Because all I could think of was this:



That, my friends, is about the level of sophistication you can expect from me.

*sigh*

Friends Like Whitman

Walt Whitman has been my favorite poet for about a thousand years. I love his expansiveness, his generosity, his gravity, his joy, his oomph!

One of my favorite bits from Leaves of Grass is where, accused of contradicting himself, he explains that "I am large, and contain multitudes."

There aren't a lot of people who are willing to see and know our contradicting parts, much less love us with them, but this week was a riot of knowing friends, and it was glorious. People who see me as saucy and spiritual, compassionate and capable, funny and bright, kind and bitchy.

It's such a gift to be seen. It's a holy thing to be seen, to be recognized. (Perhaps we can even say that there is an element of evil in willfully not seeing people. How can we love our neighbor if we won't really look at our neighbor?) Some remarkable people go beyond, seeing us in the fullness of who we can grow into.

I'm wagging this morning, thinking of M and J and S and L, all of whom (magically, it seems) know and love me.

May you experience the same drenching in blessing.

Wednesday Prayers: Arse Over Teakettle

We're into the second week of a new routine, and I'm still getting my bearings, so consider this a free-for-all. Let me know how I can pray for you, and until next week, I'll be here, trying to get right-side-up.

Wednesday Prayers: to St. Ina

Dave and I are dog-sitting a sweet pup for a friend this week. I'm not particularly close to this friend, but I like her a lot, and I know that her dog has been quite a blessing to her. She's a darling, lovable animal-- the only reason I'm not posting pics is my belief that you don't publicly share photos of other people's kids. Still, there's been some chaos in welcoming a dog into our cat household, and some stress in working out a system that's good for everyone.

Which brings me to Ina Garten, the Barefoot Contessa.

I love Ina Garten. Dave likes her, too (mostly the way that EVERYTHING she makes includes at least a stick of butter), but he doesn't like the non-cooking scenes. I love them. Sure, they're contrived, painfully staged, and a little silly. But I love the example she sets: she leaves dinner for friends who return from a long trip, or she makes a pot roast for someone who has last-minute houseguests. These things aren't convenient-- they require (in church lingo) her time, treasure, and talent. They're an offering. In non-church lingo, these things take up her valuable, limited time and energy. She's modeling being a good neighbor. I don't care if it's cheesy, I like any reminder I stumble across for how to care for others. I like the example, the encouragement, the exhortation.

I miss a million opportunities to love people, and at least half the time that I take the opportunity, I flub it somewhere. But love is what we're called to, right? To love our God, and our neighbor as ourselves. So this week, we're trying to walk in St. Ina's shoes, loving our neighbor in practical, tangible ways.

Creator of all, make the roof of my house wide enough for all opinions, oil the door of my house so it opens easily to friend and stranger ,and set such a table in my house that my whole family may speak kindly and freely around it.

-Source Unknown (Hawaii), edited

How are you giving or receiving love this week? Let me know if I can pray with you about it.

Last Day

This is Dave and I, in the lobby where we met (when I was just a 22-year-old temp), on his last day of work (yesterday). There just aren't words for how big a role this place plays in our story. I've got a big ol' lump in my throat just thinking about it.

Wednesdsay Prayers: For New Endeavors

Dave starts a new job next week-- it'll be his first time as a new kid in 13 years. That's a big day.

One friend has just started an organization devoted to helping adults connect to the teens in their lives. It's a new venture, but her passion for its purpose has been around for a long time.

Another friend has an interview tomorrow-- praying that it goes well, and that both she and the foundation discern clearly whether they fit together.

Still another friend has begun dating after a long relationship has ended.

I'm thinking of the courage and hope required in each beginning that anyone undertakes, and about the magical possibilities when we take our first steps into a new phase. As I pray for them, I keep thinking of the hymn, "God of Grace and God of Glory." So this week, it's my prayer:

From the fears that long have bound us,
Free our hearts to faith and praise.
Grant us wisdom, grant us courage,
For the living of these days,
For the living of these days.
-H.E. Fosdick

How about you all? Any newness I can pray for? Any longing for newness?

Phone Call Poll

Between e-mail and texting (well, and snail mail, but that's my own wee quirk), I almost never pick up the phone anymore. One of my new year's resolutions has been to call at least one person per week. I haven't quite done it (unless you're willing to allow an average of one person per week).

One of the big reasons I don't call is that I'm afraid no one else does anymore, either. Then it feels some combination of intrusive, and like... well, like I'm into them more than vice versa. (Yes, I know they can chose not to answer. Also, I don't feel this way at all when people call me. And yes, sometimes my inner 16-year-old calls the shots. I'm working on this.)

So, I thought I'd ask: Do you still make personal calls? Head over to the poll on the sidebar. And, if those options aren't adequate, or you'd like to elaborate, tell me about it in the comments.

Thanks!

Wednesday Prayers: Praying the What-Ifs

Dave got a new job-- hooray! We're very excited about this, as he'd been feeling ready to move on from the old one for a while. He's 35, and he's had the same employer since he was 23. That, my friends, is quite remarkable. BUT, we'd been expecting a new job to also mean relocation, and it won't. I'm adjusting.

As I adjust, I'm thinking that there really won't be any reason at all not to (at the very least) take a few seminary classes this fall. That idea is damn scary to me. Exciting, but also terrifying. Well, classes themselves aren't scary at all-- THAT part is just thrilling to think about. (My butt's about to wag right off thinking about it.) But there are nebulous ideas around the fringes that are scary to me-- we'll call them Vocations That Shall Not Be Named.

So I pulled out my prayer journal, and prayed the what-ifs. Literally. I listed every fear I could think of. What if I lose my voice again? What if people hate me? What if there's no place for me?

You know the answer to all those what-ifs, right?

I am going to prepare a place for you.
I will never leave you nor forsake you.
I will be with you

Do you need to pour out your what-ifs? Would you like me to pray them with you?

A New Semester

I'm thinking of my grandmother this morning, because I'm praying with her rosary.

Gram passed away this summer. My theology about the afterlife is uncertain at best, but this morning when I thought of her, I hoped that our life with God after we die is like a new semester-- none of last semester's failings follow us. (I was not a very good student. I clearly remember how much I loved the beginning of the semester, when I hadn't ruined everything yet.)

She was a funny, bright, interesting woman who had made some horrifically, catastrophically selfish choices. I loved her, and I was furious with her. I deeply resented the armor of helplessness that she put on, shielding herself from accountability.

I don't understand her faith. She was observant in worship, but not in life. She was Catholic, attended Mass every weekend and regularly brought communion to those who weren't able to come to church. One of my very favorite memories from childhood is praying the rosary together at bedtime when I visited. (In fact, years ago I told my mother that the only thing I wanted when Gram died was one of her rosaries. Gram sent one immediately.) But so many of her choices, her actions-- let's say they did not reflect the fruit of the spirit, and leave it at that.

I hope Gram has been made whole, has become who she was created to be. I hope to one day meet that restored person.

I Lose, and I STILL Win!

Kristin at Liberation Theology Lutheran held a book giveaway, and even though I lost the drawing, she STILL sent books. I'm so, so excited. A lovely brown paper package (no strings-- the post office frowns on that these days) arrived last week with Brother Benet Tvedten's How to Be a Monastic and Not Leave Your Day Job, Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove's New Monasticism, and Marva J. Dawn's Keeping the Sabbath Wholly. (As these lovely books found me via the biosphere, I plan to give back by sharing about each of them. ) Thank you so much, Kristin!

These books are such a timely gift. The simplest, most distilled version of of my call that I've been able to come up with is "hospitality," and as I return to discernment (not the official, denominational kind, but the nagging internal kind), I'm drawn to monastics (particularly Benedictines) for guidance.

Surely there will be more to say about that at a later date.

Books and Horizons

A friend asked me about a month ago if I knew anything about Malcolm X, and I didn't. That's not exactly accurate: I knew that Spike Lee made a movie about him, and that he was a controversial African-American man in the 1960s (though I didn't know why).

I picked up Malcolm X's autobiography at the library, and committed to getting back to my friend with a little more knowledge. I notice the irony now, because I think Malcolm X himself would have said I had an awful lot of nerve giving my (white woman's) opinion about his life to a black man.

This may be the most vivid autobiography I've ever read. Malcolm X shared frank details about much of his own life, and fierce opinions about race relations in America. Even when I didn't agree with his assessments, I appreciated how his experience formed them.

I found him a very, very hard man to like. Early on, I got the impression that he pushed away a lot of people who sincerely cared for him. Later, I was uncomfortable with his unquestioning devotion (I'm uncomfortable with anyone's unquestioning devotion) to Elijah Muhammad of the Nation of Islam. I was annoyed by the way he dismissed those who disagreed with him as being blind or stupid. I hated the way he talked about women.

But on the other hand...
He loved learning, and reading-- there was a vulnerability about his love of study that endeared him to me. He made some points that were incredibly sensible (albeit uncomfortable). And later, when he visited Mecca, it was such a transformative experience for him. I was touched by the wonder he let himself feel, by the opening-up he allowed. I'm really glad that I held on through the end of the book, because he grew, and it was extraordinary to watch. I think there is nothing more miraculous than watching people grow.

I love reading other people's stories, and I'm grateful that Alex Haley and Malcolm X worked together to let me see a bit of life that I otherwise never could have glimpsed. His world is entirely alien to me, and it's such a gift to be able to explore other worlds. There's a good bit on which we still don't agree, but I find an awful lot of joy in those days when I'm able to love those with whom I don't agree.

Wednesday Prayers: For Students

Lovely Stratoz so frequently mentions that he's praying for his students (whether that's for his patience or their edification, I've never been sure). Many of my dear ones are either students or teachers (or both!) and this week I'm praying for them. Our local college students are back for the spring semester (and experiencing their first outbreak of bedbugs... ugh).

I saw my spiritual director this week, and that meeting has me thinking about how long it's taking me to learn some sacred lessons.

So while you're teaching or learning this week, I'm holding you in prayer. Are there any other ways I can be praying with you?

Wednesday Prayers: Thin Ice

I was praying at bedtime earlier this week, telling God how uncertain the future seems to me right now.


I feel like I'm walking across a lake that hasn't completely frozen, and with each step I'm holding my breath, listening for cracks.

As I prayed, it seemed that a startling thing happened: God laughed.

Not unkindly, but with perspective and good humor. Did you forget I can walk on water?

Oh. Right, then.


I still know the ice is likely to crack. But I'm not going to fall through.

Share your concerns (or comforts) in the comments, and I'll hold them up (while I'm being held).

Wednesday Prayers: Goldfish Brain

Hey, y'all. I'm feeling good, but noticing that I have zero attention span while recuperating. So, if I can be praying for you, leave your petitions in the comments. In the meantime, I'm going to sit here and stare at the carpet.

Wednesday Prayers: On the Mend

Surgery last week went so well that this week's prayer is one of gratitude.

We thought I was going in for a meniscus repair, but instead the surgeon found some plica floating around in an obnoxious way. (I didn't know what plica was either, and let me save you the trouble of a Google search by reducing it down to "knee debris.") He took out the plica, and I hobbled out. (Well, after I woke up from the anesthesia.) I'm still a tad sore, and I don't quite have full range of motion yet, but recovery is SO MUCH EASIER than the other thing would have been. I expect I'll be running by February, rather than by April, so I'm thrilled. (Well, thrilled, and guilty: I feel bad that loving friends have been so supportive when it turns out I don't need that much sympathy after all!)

Are you offering up any gratitude for things that are better than you expected, or do you need some prayers that things mend? Let me know, and I'll include my prayers with yours.

Wednesday Prayers: Unexpected Blooms

I have been a merciless plant-slaughterer for a very long time. A couple of years ago, in a last-ditch attempt to have something green in my life, I started buying tiny cacti each time Dave and I went to Longwood Gardens.

This little one was a gift. I've had it about a year and a half, and had no idea that it blooms. But a couple of weeks ago, this funny little alien flower showed up.

The Bible is all about surprises. This is important for me to remember, because I am usually quite certain that I know how things will unfold (bleakly). So this week, I'm praying to notice surprises, to expect surprises, to give up my certainty in favor of watching and waiting.

How about you? Have you gotten any surprises lately? Do you need to start considering them a possibility?

Surgery's scheduled!

My "arrival time" is 1 p.m. It's an outpatient procedure, and the surgery itself is usually pretty short (30 minutes to an hour), but post-op takes a while, so I'm expecting to get home after dark.

Hope everybody's having a good day, and I'll be back... well, later this week, probably.

Pre-Op

Hey, y'all.

I'm having surgery for a torn meniscus on Tuesday. Here's the quick info:

• I won the torn meniscus lottery. Most of the time, they have to be removed (which means a speedy recovery, but higher likelihood of arthritis later on). My tear happens to be in the place where it can be stitched up (maybe-- they never know for sure until they're in there).
• The surgery's arthroscopic, so no worries about scars marring my sexy knees. (BWAHAHAHA. Knees are very, very silly looking.)
• Recovery's going to take a while, and hurt like heck.
  
• BUT, my timing's perfect. If there's any ideal time to be housebound, it's January-February-March. This way, when my favorite seasons come, I'll be well on my way to being healed.
• Blogging will either not happen, or will be very, very silly. (Vicoden)
• Stratoz made my week when he wished me healthy running in 2011. That is *exactly* the prize I'm keeping my eye on.

Today and tomorrow, Dave and I are trying to do a few pre-op errands that will make next week easier. My to-do list includes the practical:

• Buy more pillows.
• Make more ice packs.
• Create a little recuperation station in bedroom: laptop, books, knitting stuff, stationery.
  

The frivolous:

• Buy a few pairs of skirts and flats, so that I won't feel scrubby every day in my knee brace and sweats.
• Clean high heels out of closet, so as not to be taunted by them.
  

And the peculiar:

• Try a practice shower with improvised seat.

So that's that! Keep me in your prayers, if you think to. I'm sure I'll tell you (way more than you were hoping) about how it went!

The Beginnings of Christmas

No, not the manger-beginning, just the beginning of our own celebrations.

Dave and I have some hippy tendencies, there's no way around it. In an effort to cut down on waste, I've wrapped his presents in some fat quarters from my stash. I was inspired by furoshiki, but cheated a bit by tying most of the packages with kitchen twine.

Here's his pile of blue-and-green-dotted gifts (side note: I adore dots.):

This cute little box didn't get the twine, and I just had to show you how darling it is:

We've hung the Advent calendar.


I've had this calendar since I was tiny, but last year got the bright idea to put candies in it, in addition to the mouse. Dave has grown very attached to the mouse, and has named him Reynaldo.


Tomorrow we'll hang tiny ornaments on our potted ficus. We'll have Christmas crustaceans for dinner (usually snow crap*, but this year Ina's Roasted Shrimp Cocktail). Dave will bake cookies until it's time to bundle up late in the evening and trundle off to midnight mass.

Christmas Day is so often stressful in our families; all the magic happens on Christmas Eve. It's mass that I always look forward to, and I'm already longing for the candlelight and song.

*Whoops! It's not snow crap-- Dave's an excellent cook. It's snow crab!

Wednesday Prayers: Quick and Dirty

Between my knee (visit to the Ortho guy tomorrow-- which always sounds like "Orkin Guy" in my head, adding to the ickiness) and holiday stress, I'm a snippy, cranky, jerk this month. Worse yet, I know it, so I'm also a guilt-ridden jerk. Pray for my patience, and the patience of those around me.

What've you got this week?

Dolly Always Comes Through

Y'all know I love Dolly, right? This woman is my hero; I want to be just like her when I grow up.

Christmas is kicking my ass this year, but tonight, she had just what I needed.

Wednesday Prayers: Leroy

Once a week, Dave and I go to our local library. He volunteers, mostly re-shelving books and looking for lost ones. I head to the coffee shop, stamps and stationery in hand, and write letters.

While Dave is shelving, he keeps an eye out for books he thinks I'd like. About a year ago, he grabbed Grace Goes to Prison, an excellent book about Marie Hamilton's ministry to inmates in Pennsylvania prisons. Her organization, CentrePeace, runs a secondhand furniture shop, and inmates are trained in restoration. Another ministry through CentrePeace is their PrayerMates program. Inmates are matched up with a "spiritual pen pal," and agree to write and pray for each other regularly. Only first names are used, and all correspondence goes through the CentrePeace office.

I had to sign up. I couldn't write to loved ones every week, and know that I'd refused to correspond with someone who needed a friend.

I've been exchanging letters with Leroy for almost a year now. We don't have a lot in common, but that's OK. He hasn't written about what his days are like, so my prayers for him are often vague. I'm glad to pray for someone outside my circle, though, someone whose circumstances I can't understand. I think maybe this is the beginning of how we learn to love all people.

So this week, like all other weeks, I'm praying for Leroy. That he has peace and safety, that he continues to grow and learn, that he can see hope.

What are you praying for this week? May I join you?

As Long As It Takes

I haven't been moving very quickly the last few weeks (knee injury). I've felt self-conscious about that, but I didn't realize how awkward I felt until a dear friend of mine came to visit this weekend. We went shopping together (I knew of a buy 1, get 2 free boot sale!), and I was acutely aware of holding us back.

Think about that for a minute. It was just shopping. And catching up. With a very old, good, lovely friend. Going slowly isn't really a big deal, under those circumstances.

I don't have a lot of patience or respect for how long it takes me to do things. This is true in literal, tangible ways, but also in developmental ways. I hate to keep people waiting as I unload my cart at the grocery store, and I hate all the ways I'm still (at 31) not the grown-up I want to be.

I started reading about child development a few years ago when I worked at United Way, and was really blown away by the (totally obvious) concept that children are capable of different things at different ages. Age-appropriate expectations were an entirely new idea. It was amazing. I took such pride in being a very short adult as a kid that it never, ever occurred to me that it was OK not to be able to do something yet.

As an adult, it's also OK not to be able to do something yet. If we're still growing (and heaven help us if we're not), there are steps and stages. Hating slow progress doesn't speed it up; it just eats away at self-respect.

And so, yet again, I'm thinking of Mr. Dail: "In due time, Diana Mary, in due time."

Wednesday Prayers: Bear Fruit!!!

I've had the gospel reading for Advent 2 in my head all week, particularly John the Baptist's "You brood of vipers... bear fruit worthy of repentance!"

The Postulant posted a great sermon about how Advent is a penitential season, a time to prepare and make things right (well, right-er, anyway).

But it's the "bear fruit worthy of repentance!" that's sticking with me.

How much do we want to smack people when they're apologizing for the same thing for the billionth time, without any change in the choices they make-- without even any intention of change? (Yes, I know we're called to forgive 70x70 times. Still, I think God's OK with my being angry.) BEAR FRUIT WORTHY OF REPENTANCE!

How frustrated do we get when we keep doing the same damn dumb thing, over and over, instead of hunkering down, asking for God's help, and doing the hard work of making new habits? BEAR FRUIT WORTHY OF REPENTANCE!

I loved this week's sermon (yes, we'll talk soon about how I'm back worshiping with the local Lutherans), because the pastor took sin seriously, in a loving rather than an angry way. I want us to be talking about sin-- not so that we can shuffle around feeling like crap (NOT what I think we're called to do), but so that we can move towards greater freedom and joy, so that we can become more fully who God made us to be.

Because really, that's what sin's about. It's all the sludge that holds us back. It's the plastic imitation of stuff that's much better. We are God's beloved, and God longs for us to have the real thing-- love, freedom, joy, peace.

So this week, I'm praying for God to show me where I'm not bearing fruit, and to prune me where necessary.

What are you praying for this week? How can I pray with you?

Knee Absolution

I did something screwy to my knee in the fall. I babied it (RICE), it got better. Then I went on a REALLY ambitious run, and it made a very bad pain. I babied it (more RICE), it started to get better. I had a party to go to, decided to wear high-heeled boots with my skirt. We're back to babying again.

Since I've been in this cycle since late Sept./early Oct., I'm going to head to the doctor's on Monday, just to make sure there's not anything really wrong. Because I feel incredibly dumb, what I'd really like (in addition to the actual exam) is absolution:

Most merciful Claudia,
I confess that I have been stupid
in speed, incline, and footwear,
by what I have injured,
and by Advil I have left untaken.
I have not stretched with my whole hamstring;
I have not strengthened with my whole quad.
I am truly sorry and I humbly repent.
For the sake of my regular training,
have mercy on me and forgive me;
that I may lace up my sneakers,
and run outside,
before the roads are covered in snow and ice. Amen.

Wednesday Prayers: For Jo(e)

I had a half dozen other posts in my head, but really, this is where my prayers are this week.

Do you have anything else you'd like me to be praying for, friends?

Stratoz's Interview, Part IV:

(Previous installments can be found here, here , and here).

Do You Blog? Are you on facebook or twitter? How do you feel about social networking and church growth?

I do! Right here, in fact. I've blogged since 2005 (THAT'S crazy to think about).

I'm on facebook, not on twitter. Facebook has been a great way to keep in touch with people I enjoy. So many of my loved ones are scattered that it's really a joy to have a glimpse into their daily lives, to chat about the little things that come up. (Twitter is somehow not as appealing.)

I'm not sure about social networking and church growth, but I do think social networking makes sense as a part of church life. (I get so nervous about what we mean when we say "church growth." I worry that it means numbers and membership roles, rather than deepening our relationships with God and one another.) Social networking is how many of us communicate-- it seems foolish for the church to not be present there.

Stratoz's Interview, Part III: Bumper Stickers

(Previous installments can be found here and here).

What is written on the bumper stickers that you have placed on your cars?

I'm very, very cautious about bumper stickers. During the primaries and the general election of '08, I affixed my Obama bumper sticker to a magnet so that it wouldn't be stuck to my trunk for all of time and eternity.

I also have a very small Denison University static decal in my rear window. I'm crazy about my alma mater.

And that's it for bumper stickers. The only other stuff on my car is a lot of dirt!

O-H-I-O!

During the semester of college that I lived at home, my mom and I had a very fun ongoing ice cream deal. Each week that OSU played, I'd buy us ice cream if they won (in celebration), and she'd buy the ice cream if they lost (in consolation). It's a fantastic memory that I have of her.

Dave and I watch one (and only one) football game every year. Actually, it's the only sporting event we watch.

It's not a bowl game.

It's not a playoff game.

It's the OSU/Michigan game.

And it's this afternoon.

FOR PETE'S SAKE, DON'T JUST SIT THERE-- GO PUT ON YOUR LUCKY UNDERPANTS!

Stratoz's Interview, Part II: Radio

My first response to Stratoz's great (and not intended for me!) interview questions is here.

What radio station do you listen to and why?
I listen to WITF (our local NPR station). I particularly love Nina Totenberg's reporting on the Supreme Court, and Kai Ryssdal's Marketplace. I love the full background of a story that I get with NPR's news. NPR's stories are like word problems to me: every single time, I could get the answer to a math question right if it was a word problem. It made sense. I understood what was going on, and what the objective was. Plain old equations, though, with no context-- hopeless. I like putting things in context.

I also listen to WXPN, the NPR station out of Philly (also broadcast here). They play a lot of indie rock, which I love, but which I am not cool enough to find on my own.

When I'm not listening to one of those, I channel surf a lot, stopping on whatever station happens to be playing classic rock that I can belt out.

Wednesday/Thanksgiving Prayers: It's a blessing. And a curse.

For a while, Dave and I watched Monk a lot. It was light and fluffy, but the characters were charming. I mention this because the lead character often said (about all manner of things, but especially about his OCD), "It's a blessing. And a curse."

This seems particularly relevant to me as I begin to pray Thanksgiving prayers. It's an awkward time of year to have a difficult family situation. I sometimes feel embarrassed, a little ashamed, when people talk about their holiday plans, and then ask what we'll be doing. I love our quiet observances, just the two of us. I love them because they're a safe haven, and our extended families aren't consistently safe or nurturing. I wish very much that they were, and it's not just the holidays that are sad. (The myth seems to be that you either love or hate your family. The truth for me is that I adore my family, which makes it a hell of a lot harder to keep a safe distance.)

The curse.

But here's the other side of it: this week, a woman I know asked for prayer-- and she knew it was okay to come to me, because I had talked to her about my own family. She knew I would have compassion (not to mention bountiful prayers to lift on her behalf).

The blessing.

If my struggles mean that I can love someone better, that I can listen to someone with my whole heart, then the blessing is bigger than the curse.

There are many things I'm grateful for (a safe home, a kind husband, good food, good friends), but that blessing is my best prayer of thanksgiving this year.

What's yours?

Stratoz's Interview, Part I: Books

Stratoz posted such great questions for his parish's candidates that I'm going to take a page out of Robin's book and answer them, too. (One at a time, friends. Because I'm not a terribly ambitious blogger. Or, because I want you to have a chance to digest all my wisdom. *snort*)

Please tell me about the last five books you read.

1. Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery: I re-read this recently, and was just as charmed by it as I had been as a kid. I especially noticed this time how often Anne finds "kindred spirits" in unexpected people. It's a beautiful book, and Anne's willingness to use her imagination inspired me.
2. The Web Designer's Idea Book by Patrick McNeil: I'm putting together a website for my fledgling spiritual direction practice, and this book has been a helpful tool for creating a mental picture of what I want. (The challenge will be making that actually happen.)
3. barefoot contessa how easy is that? by Ina Garten: I understand that there are people who don't adore Ina Garten, but it doesn't make sense to me. This woman uses butter, cheese, and salt like aliens are going to obliterate the planet tomorrow, and there's no need to age gracefully. I love to eat, and this is some amazing food.
4. The Practice of Spiritual Direction by Barry & Connolly: I'm going through my old material again (slowly), reminding myself of what I know to be true, and picking up some of what I missed on the first pass. This is a wonderful practical guide.
5. Talking with Children about Loss by Maria Trozzi with Kathy Massimini: A friend lent this to me after this summer's grief class. I've been reading it in the midst of other things (clearly), so it's slow going, but it's a good book. Trozzi raises some important points about children processing differently than adults. She also spends a good amount of time on non-bereavement loss, which strikes me as important-- I think we often minimize children's feelings.

Those are my books! There have been others-- mainly Victoria Thompson's gaslight mysteries-- but those are the ones I'm still reading or thinking about.

November Mix Tape: Rainy Day Cafe

Back in October, I spent a weekend in New York, catching up with friends and generally making quiet mischief.

The first friend I hung out with was a really fun woman whom I hadn't seen since high school. I happened to mention that she used to make the World's Best Mix Tapes, and she shared something extraordinary: she's part of a Mix Tape Club! Seriously. How fun is that?!?!

When we parted, she offered to send me a mix tape, made just for me, but then a couple of weeks later, she made an even better offer: our own little mail mix-tape club.

WOOHOO!!!!

So, this month is my first stab at it. Autumn always makes me a little maudlin (but in a lovely way), so I went with that general feeling. The compilation is called "Rainy Day Cafe." (I love those quiet gray afternoons in coffeehouses while listening to yearning music, reading, journaling, letter-writing.)

My cover art:

And my playlist (erm... which I see I sort of cut off in the picture-- WHOOPS!):


Both typed with the help of my ancient Remington Rand Deluxe #5 typewriter. That's what you need when you finish with Nat King Cole.

It really is a lovely, lovely list of songs, so feel free to replicate at home! And feel free to steal the idea-- this was the most fun I've had in ages.

Yellow Patchwork Quilt

I made a little quilt, y'all!

I've made them before, but this is the first one I've both pieced and quilted. (On others, I've either quilted one big piece of fabric, or I've pieced rag quilts-- which don't get quilted.)

So, hurrah! I just loved this one. It went to a sweet newborn whose parents I adore-- and I assure you, those are the only circumstances under which I would have been willing to let go of it. It turned out so much cuter than I expected (although I'm still swearing that the binding-- satin blanket binding is surely evil in solid form).I tried to show you the whole thing:

but frankly, I'm not so good with the self-timer and the scurrying into place, so I tried again (overexposed, and then badly corrected...sigh):

Still not great. So, in parts, we have the front:


I love how crinkly quilts get when you use cotton batting-- it shrinks a little in the dryer, and the quilted lines really stand out.

And then the fun scrappy back--I scattered tiny squares like confetti. I added a few Heather Ross chickens that weren't on the front, and they made me grin every time I looked at them:

I had a grand time doing it-- it's machine-pieced, but hand-quilted (which seems to be my favorite way of doing things).

So, that's that! Have a lovely cheerful yellow day!

Wednesday Prayers: A Peaceful Night, and a Perfect End

I've been using Phyllis Tickle's version of the Daily Offices for the last few weeks (or, I should say, I've resumed the habit). Compline might be my favorite office. I love that there's confession before slumber-- it relieves me of all the dumbshit things I've done during the day (that I'd otherwise fret about once the lights go out).

I suppose this points to a specific prayer request of you this week: wiser decisions during the day (and less guilt about old stuff).

Can I pray for you this week? Is there anything that will help you rest easier?

Earworm

I can't get this song out of my head today. Figured I might as well get it stuck in yours, too.

Wednesday Prayers: Don't Watch the Film

I love Inside the Actor's Studio. I love it even when I don't care for an actor's body of work. It's about hearing people's stories.

When Johnny Depp was interviewed, he said that he doesn't watch the films he's in. More specifically, he said that after he's wrapped, "it's none of my business what the filmmaker does with it."

As a spiritual director, I have to really work at remembering that the big picture is not up to me. In fact, it's none of my business. One of the best sessions I ever took part in was while I was training-- my directee used a metaphor to talk about her situation the whole time we were talking. I never knew what her specific struggle was, and I didn't need to. I'm there to ask questions, God's there to lead her deeper into them. What follows isn't any of my business.

Maybe that's true for everything. We do our part, we respond to God's call, and then we forget about the completed film. If we're honest with ourselves, we know we're never going to know the whole story, anyway; we will do good in ways we will never realize, and we'll hurt unknowingly.

So my prayer this week is to be attentive to my role, and let go of the finished picture. What's your prayer this week?

Wednesday Prayers: And for any others you wish to name, either silently or aloud...

This corkboard above the desk in my office is where I keep prayer requests. (Some of you would see your names, or those of your loved ones, typed on tiny pastel squares.) It's just first names, and it's often vague for anonymity's sake. (Confession: there's a little square that just says "Peter in TX." I'm not sure who Peter is, and I only have a hunch about who the prayer-requester might be, but I'm still praying for him.)

I really like having a visual reminder of all the things for which we turn to God. (Perhaps someday I'll remember, "Hey, it's on the board. That means God is carrying it, not me!)

You've all been so lovely and kind this week, I'd like to just turn the prayer requests over to you. Is there something of yours I can add to my board?