To Know The Dark
by Wendell Berry

To go in the dark with a light is to know the light.
To know the dark, go dark. Go without sight,
and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings,
and is traveled by dark feet and dark wings.

Gluten Free PB Cranberry Go Bars

SUCCESS!

This is a great "kitchen sink" recipe. Go crazy with yogurt, jellies, fresh fruits, nuts, etc. My friend Kjersten originally introduced me to these delectable breakfast bars. She found the recipe in a hiking magazine I do believe. Regardless, everyone who has ever tasted them has demanded the recipe.

Gluten Free Peanut Butter Cranberry Go Bars

1 cup oats (found .05% gluten content from Mcann's Oats... there might  be better)
1/3 cup oat bran (ditto gluten free issue - Bob's Red Mill seems safe)
3 tbsp. flax seeds (I grind mine up in coffee grinder)
1 cup GF flour - I used brown and white rice flour, tapioca and sorghum flours
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt (I used Kosher)
1/2 cup each: chopped roasted salted peanuts, dried cranberries, finely chopped dried fruit of your choice
3/4 cup natural chunky peanut butter
1/4 cup low-fat milk or soy milk
1 large egg
1/2 cup honey
Finely shredded zest from 1 lemon (I never use this)
1 tbsp. fresh lemon juice

1. In a large bowl, stir together oats, oat bran, flax seeds, flour,
baking powder, salt, peanuts and cranberries until well blended.
2. In the bowl of a stand mixer, beat together PB, milk, egg, honey,
lemon zest, and lemon juice until well blended.
3. Add flour mixture to PB mixture and beat until completely blended.
4. Line a 9x13 pan with plastic wrap, leaving an overhang on the 9
inch sides, and coat with cooking oil spray. Scrap dough into pan and
with wet fingers or rubber spatula, pat to fill pan completely and
evening (dough is sticky). Chill dough until firm, about 30 minutes.
(I never do this pan business either. I just portion out 16 discs onto
parchment paper on my baking sheet.)
5. Preheat oven to 300 degrees. Invert pan onto a work surface, lift
off pan, and peel of plastic. Using a bench scraper or knife, cut
straight down lengthwise through middle, then crosswise to make 16
bars, each 1.5 inches wide. Place bars about 1 inch apart on a baking
sheet lined with parchment.
5. Bake bars until lightly browned and somewhat firm to touch, about
20 minutes. Remove from oven and let cool completely.
Store airtight up to 2 weeks or freeze.

Gluten Free

In my ever expanding social circle, I keep encountering more and more people are gluten intolerant or have celiac's disease. For those of you who haven't been out of the house for a while, gluten is a protein found in wheat, barley, and rye. So all those typically wheaty things are off limits: cake, bread, (lefsa!), pizza, beer and so on. There's also a list of other non-typical things that may have gluten: gum, creamer, syrups, salad dressings, cereals and candy.

So said one friend, "It's easier now to be gluten free than it was a few years ago." But it still isn't easy. Of the many batches of lefsa I've seen made, the most recent one broke my heart because an 80 year old woman who has Celiac's was making it for everyone and couldn't have any herself. It is like the new diabetes - everyone knows someone who has to be GF now (if not a handful of people).

This knowledge combined with my stumbling upon this awesome blog yesterday led me to go on a gluten free shopping spree. I had no idea there were so many kinds of flour. Goodness!! Amaranth, sorghum, potato, tapioca, sweet rice, brown rice, white rice...

Going off a recipe for chocolate chip cookies from Shauna (Gluten Free Girl from above blog), I sifted four different kinds of flour together to create the delicious goodness that is my batch of GF Choc Chip Cookies. I'm going to hand them out to all my gluten free people in the hopes that they might enjoy eating them as much as I enjoyed baking them.

Beyond a desire to bake something delicious for those GF people I love, I have been reading about the benefits of going GF. Here for instance are some reason. Beyond the health benefits of not eating so much bread or so much wheat, there's always the possibility that I yself will be GF down the road (diagnoses are happening with shocking regularity). Regardless, I will always know someone who has to be GF and I'd love to be able to whip up a batch of something GF for them!

Here's to more GF adventures. Next up: my PB cranberry go bars are going gluten free!

A Blog worthy of a visit

From Bad Vestments blog (badvestments.blogspot.com):

VESTMENT OR STAR TREK COSTUME?

MORE GIANT PAPIER-MÂCHÉ CALVINIST PUPPETS OF DOOM

Emmanuel, God with us

I survived Christmas.

The strangest part was in my struggle to see God in the day. I was praying for something extraordinary. I don't know what exactly that would have entailed though. A surprise visit from someone? An unshakeable feeling that God was with me? Something unexpected.

Instead, the day was quiet on the God front. There were little things that caught my attention - a bloom on the cactus, a ribbon in the shape of a heart, a beam of light from the window to my face, and a single shining star in the sky visible outside my bedroom window as I crawled into bed to weep.

Perhaps the greatest mystery and gift is that God shows up in the quiet moments and not in some over the top fireworks and flare kind of way. This is only troubling on the days when I cannot hear the still small voice and need God to hit me over the head and scream, "I'm here."

But perhaps my survival is evidence that God is with me. I keep surviving.

Unfair

Annoying Christmas songs about snowmen who can come to life and marry people when WE have to put in 4 years at seminary?! Unfair.

Getting the plastic napkin holder with jingle bells on it at the Dirty Santa gift exchanged when you wanted the snuggie? Unfair.

Being far away from family and friends and all the traditions that you grew up with because you now work every Christmas (and are on internship/first call)? Unfair.

A White Christmas that actually means having to drive through ice and snow to get to church on Christmas eve and Christmas morning? Unfair.

But this frustration and resentment and business of the season comes to a halt Christmas morning as I read about the unfairness of Christmas. Not just with Mary and Joseph and their odd predicament. Not just with the manger birth because the inn was full. But more about a God who loves us enough to become incarnate and suffer with us.

Fair? Hardly. But this is the abundant grace if God which we celebrate this morning. Our hope is in one who meets the unfairness of the world and confronts it with the calm of a new born baby. God is with us.


©iStockphoto.com/Tari Faris

Cause for Celebration

There are a lot of Christmas songs I find annoying. Frosty the Snowman tops the list. Perhaps I'm offended that a snowman can come to life and marry people when I have to go through four years of seminary to marry people? I'm not sure. And then there are the songs that heap on the guilt like: "So this is Christmas, and what have we done? Another year over, a new one just begun." WOW! That's not what this season is about at all.

Which begs the question, what IS this season all about? There are those buttons, bumper stickers, and tags that say "Jesus is the reason for the season." And while I can't argue with that, I'd hope that Jesus is the reason for our EVERY season. For our entire journey of life. For every day. For every breath.

So what's Christmas about? Why do we celebrate it every year over and over again? Haven't you celebrated it enough times? We know how the story goes. Angels. Mary and Joseph. More angels. Baby born in a manger. Swaddling clothes. Shepherds. Stars. Wise Men. So on. Why keep telling it?

We are surrounded by skeptics and cynics who remind us that Jesus was not born on December 25th 2,000 years ago. It was more likely in the spring of 6BC as opposed to December 25th 1 AD. And then there's the fact that pagans celebrated the winter solstice at this time for many years before the Christians began claiming this season. The first Christmases had no Christmas trees, no ornaments, no stockings, no Santa Claus because St. Nicholas hadn't been born yet, no Christmas carols, no Christmas eve services.

But late Monday evening as I stayed awake and sat outside in the 5 degree weather watching the lunar eclipse, I contemplated the moon and the winter solstice. The winter solstice marks the longest night and the shortest day in the Northern hemisphere each year in earth's trip around the sun. A time to light candles and wait to see if the days will again begin to lengthen. And THIS is when we chose to celebrate the birth of our savior Jesus Christ?

And then it hit me, of course this is when we chose to celebrate the birth of our savior Jesus Christ. It is when we need him the most. As the evenings grow longer and the days get shorter, and the entire earth is farther away from the hot, hot sun than we are the rest of the year, we need a savior. We need someone to assure us that just as the earth moves back toward the SUN, we move toward the SON. Even our Christmas story is marked by an astrological sign. A star, burning brightly over the place where Jesus lay, guiding people to him.

It makes perfect sense to me, then, that we would choose to celebrate the birth of Jesus now. For Jesus is the light of the world and that causes us to celebrate. That light comes into our darkness. Not just every Christmas morning but in every dark occasion.

That light came to lonely shepherds, working hard on Christmas morning. That light came to two weary parents, who were exhausted by their journey, their angelic encounters, and the task of raising this child. That light came to the town of Bethlehem as the shepherds spread the good news. That light continued to spread as Jesus grew and began ministry. As he died and rose again. As he sent the Holy Spirit to dwell with us. As the disciples shared his story.

That light comes to us still. Not just on Christmas each year but in every breath we take in which we fear the darkness is too much. When we are cold, weary, working hard, resting, rejoicing, weeping, or wondering what the point is after all. We can remember the promise that the light shines in the darkness and the darkness will not overcome it.

Jesus Christ is born. He is Emmanuel, God with us. This is cause for celebration.

Future

"I'm on my way to the future, she said & I said, But you're just sitting there listening & she smiled & said, It's harder than you'd think with all the noise everyone else is making."
-StoryPeople

Pre sermon Sermonating

So you know how Matthew starts up the entire New Testament with a list of Jesus' genealogy? Well this week's text is right after that. Joseph and Mary. Naming Jesus. Then citing the Old Testament and saying he is Emmanuel, God with us. This beautiful list of genealogy with a smart dismissal of it due to the fact that it is Joseph's ancestry and his sperm plays no part in Jesus' makeup. So who cares, right?

I have always been troubled by that. Why include a list of people and then negate it by ensuring us it was a virgin birth and Joseph never lay with his wife until after Jesus arrived? I know some people have flatly refused to believe in the virgin birth at all and it would seem on the surface that this would play in Jesus' favor. After all, if Joseph actually did contribute to Jesus' physical makeup, at least the genealogy would be intact!

But I got a new spin on this at text study yesterday with the local clergy. It then paired nicely with dual presentations by Lutheran Social Services on adoption. Over a slide show of beautiful children's faces, alight with joy and surrounded by their new families, the music rang out a message of love and home.

How much does blood have to do with it? Don't we claim various families as we go through life? Claim a church family, a work family, a family made up of loyal friends? And I do believe there is even a certain amount of claiming the very ones to who we are blood related. My sibling and I have only liked each other in the past few years. Before that, we fought likes cats and dogs.

And it is common to refer to other Christians as Brothers and Sisters in Christ. As my supervisor asked, "Is water is thicker than blood?" We even think about Godparents here that are not always blood relatives. Or if they are, it is not that blood relation that drives their presence at the baptism, but their personal witness to Christ.

So as Joseph claims Jesus by naming him, he is bestowing upon him all the meaning of family. He is embracing him as his own, despite the biological block. The message may just be that Jesus can be claimed by all people, no matter their genealogy or past. The message may be that Jesus claims US, no matter OUR past. Either way, our stories are linked, integrally. No amount of boo hoo-ing ancestry or origin will forgo that mutual claim.

Convenience or Stuff

The battle rages on between living simply and convenience. What stuff is essential and what is a perk? What things truly make our lives simpler and/or easier and what things do more to clutter our lives than help them out?

The best example of this is the kitchen. I promise you there is a gadget or gizmo for absolutely any function or task in the kitchen. Bread slicers, juicers, grapefruit spoons, food processors, hot dog cookers, potato mashers, pastry knives, toasters, and even a strainer lid to go over a can to assist you in draining it (I bought it once, don't laugh). Entire websites dedicated to the latest in kitchen gadgets. There are 12 different kinds of knives and various types of spoons and a spork! Glasses for particular drinks. Plates and bowls for certain types of foods. The list goes on and on and on. Go to a Pampered Chef party! Look at the SkyMall magazine!

It has certainly been interesting seeing what tools the man who lived in my house previously has. There are entire drawers and cabinets that I've never once used. And then, oddly, a few gadgets that I simply adore using (an over the glass metallic juicer is awesome for making my green tea lemonade!) and other ones I cannot for the life of me understand.

Some sit in drawers and gather dust aside from the once or twice a year we might pull them out. Some we use so frequently that they never lie in wait in the drawer but are usually found in the drying rack or sink!

We never use them all. And in truth, we could live without most of them quite easily. I've survived for quite sometime without a pastry knife though I would love to have one. I have friends who have never had a food processor and use a blender for everything. A friend on internship decided not to bring her rice cooker but her Rabbit wine opener had to go with her (and for this, I cannot fault her - those things are AWESOME).

Are our lives any different? The things we believe we must have because they'll make our lives easier when in reality, we are surrounded by drawers of clutter. By brain space full of useless facts. By shelves full of books we will never read. By minutes wasted with time saving strategies. By bodies full of extra calories. By pantries full of ready made food. By vanities full of products and medicine cabinets full of pills and creams and ointments.

I'm sure there are more. I'm at the point where I'm sorting through what is essential and what is superfluous. I recognize this will change when I have a partner, when I have a family, when I am older. But right now, I honestly don't want a freezer full of frozen meals or an entire shelf in my bathroom for my "essentials" (face wash, face lotion, acne med, eye make up remover, Zyrtec, 5HTP, qtips, body lotion, toothbrush, toothpaste, Listerine, mascara, hairbrush, hair gel...).

But I do love that over the glass juicer.... ;)

Preaching is Yay

Just in case you all want to keep up on the sermons I am preaching...

http://messiahlutheranbillings.org/

The manuscripts will all be on the church website shortly after I preach 'em!

Babies

In my book about authenticity, my bookmark is a picture of my god baby screaming at the top of her lungs. There is something entirely refreshing about this photo (aside from my desire to pluck her up and hug on her that is).

With a baby, you will always know when they are upset. They'll be screaming. Crying. Making a fuss until their need is met.

You'll know when they are excited, happy, or passing gas. They'll be smiling. Giggling. Squirming with glee.

If they are curious, they'll reach out and touch. When they can, they'll ask questions. "Whassat?" is one of my favorites.

There is nothing that is not absolutely congruent about what babies are feeling and what they do.

As adults, we've squelched that. Been taught not to cry or be too overjoyed about anything. Hold back curiosity. Etc and so on.

What would happen if we broke down in tears when we spilled a glass of juice or we were hungry? Letting ourselves feel whatever was passing through our mind at the time instead of "steeling" ourselves against our emotions. And it might teach the next generation that it is okay to feel things. Okay to feel sad, happy, mad, glad. Okay to cry and shout for joy.

What kind of world might that be?

Unsubscribe

Every year, around this New Year time (it is the new year according to the church calendar, btw), I give myself the gift of unsubscribing. What's this, you ask? It is part of decluttering my life!

How many e-mails do you get in a day that you immediately delete? From the airlines advertising a cheap flight, from Ticketmaster, from some inspirational quote/scripture/blurb of the day, from iTunes and whatever else you may or may not have signed up for.

I'm not talking about spam, those e-mails announcing how easy it is to enhance what God gave ya, because your spam filter should be taking care of those. I'm talking about all the rest of it.

Unsubscribe. Uncheck the box for special offers, monthly newsletters, updates on your favorite musical artists, and so on. You don't need the clutter.

And if you find yourself missing a full inbox, go online and find something to subscribe to that might actually bring you joy. For instance, I always read my Story of the Day from StoryPeople. And though it is not always earth shatteringly brilliant, it more often than not brings a smile to my face.

Find a devotion you like, a quote of the day from a site that seems to fit you, the photo of the day from National Geographic, or whatever tickles your fancy (no, not enhancement fancy!).

But unsubscribe from that stuff you don't read. You don't read it anyway! Your brain will thank you.

St. Francis of Assisi

"Preach the Gospel at all times and when necessary use words."

"Start by doing what is necessary, then what is possible, and suddenly you are doing the impossible."

"Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love,
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
And where there is sadness, joy.

O 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,
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life."

"Above all the grace and the gifts that Christ gives to his beloved is that of overcoming self. "

—St. Francis Of Assisi

Humility and Wholeness

"To be human is to ask unanswerable questions, but to persist in asking them, to be broken and ache for wholeness, to hurt and to try to find a way to healing through the hurt." -The Spirituality of Imperfection by Kurtz and Ketcham

I'll be honest and let you know I spent much of the past two days deep in hurt... Reexamining old wounds and marveling at how they are apparent today. I give thanks for the generous friends, family, spiritual director and internship supervisors that have patiently waited for me to stop questing for perfection and start seeking wholeness instead.

This book I picked up (which is amazing) speaks of AA and many twelve step programs as "more a journey toward humility than a struggle for perfection." What a cool way to look at healing! A way to look at spirituality through our imperfections, our hurts, our pain - and use them to find meaning in the chaos and darkness of the world. The 12 step is just one example.

I dig it. This path is the answer to a prayer cried without words from the depth of me. Why didn't anyone tell me life was so difficult? Life is beautiful but it is requires all I have to give.

Well, here I go!

Uncomfortable

Internship will be an uncomfortable year. Neither good nor bad but uncomfortable.

I'm wondering if this is really our call as Christians, especially as pastors and ministers. Ministry is quite frankly, the most uncomfortable thing I've ever done. It pushes me to deal with everything that blocks me from living the gospel and loving people.

I am hesitant to admit those issues seem numerous. I don't have it all together. I don't have it all figured out. And what's worse? I never will. There will never come a time when I will say, "Yup. I've figured it all out." Does it say anything about me that this is in any way surprising or frustrating?

Or perhaps something about my theology that I want to be in control and be perfect? I wish that weren't the case but the indicators point to "true." So I'm uncomfortable. Trying to figure out how to have a little more grace with myself about who God made me to be... and who I am.

I have believed for a while that our imperfections are problems in need of fixing. The problem is that I know problems need fixing. It can't be wonderful to constantly be late or so worried about being vulnerable that one avoids all human interactions. Help is needed.

On the other hand (and this is what I'm struggling to take hold of), we are whole already. Not broken and busted in need of repair before we are whole... but whole to begin with.

Strange how I can see that about other people - their wholeness and worth and dignity - but miss it in my own person. I'm going to work on loving myself as God does... and not just my neighbor.

Blessings on your Thanksgivings. I give thanks to God for a place to vent my worries and share my joys and for each of you who reads this. ;)

Wicked

GLINDA
(spoken) Elphie, listen to me. Just say you're sorry.
(sung) You can still be with the Wizard
What you've worked and waited for
You can have all you ever wanted.

ELPHABA
(spoken) I know...
(sung) But I don't want it -
No - I can't want it anymore

Something has changed within me
Something is not the same
I'm through with playing by the rules
Of someone else's game
Too late for second-guessing
Too late to go back to sleep
It's time to trust my instincts
Close my eyes and leap!

It's time to try
Defying gravity
I think I'll try
Defying gravity
And you can't pull me down!

GLINDA
Can't I make you understand?
You're having delusions of grandeur.

ELPHABA
I'm through accepting limits
'cause someone says they're so
Some things I cannot change
But till I try, I'll never know!
Too long I've been afraid of
Losing love I guess I've lost
Well, if that's love
It comes at much too high a cost!
I'd sooner buy
Defying gravity
Kiss me goodbye
I'm defying gravity
And you can't pull me down.

Gratitude and Appreciation

In the spirit of giving Thanks, I wanted to share my most recent and reoccurring thanksgiving.

My body.

Seriously, now. I work with a lot of elderly people who struggle to walk, talk, see, hear, respond quickly, and think clearly. I am so blessed with able legs that can walk up and down stairs (as well as run, skip, jump, and climb them). I am so blessed with eyes that see well (even if I begrudge the use of my glasses, they are a simple fix... and I give thanks there IS a fix). I am blessed with good hearing, thick long hair, all my teeth and working joints.

So whenever I start to begrudge my extra pounds, my generous thighs, or my imperfect vision, I think about my residents who would give anything to have my body - "warts and all."

Thanks, God. I'll try to take the best care of it I can. ;)

Courage

You cannot know for certain the greatness of the future for which you are being prepared: the depths of compassion and understanding that are being carved by your sorrow; the vitality that gathers in secret pools behind the dam of old hopes and memories; the adventures that await you. Your inner spirit builds upon itself in anticipation of that final drop that will pour over the side and into your future.... you cannot stop the life within you that is pressing forward. Your curiosity will be the source of your courage.

~Carol Orsborn in The Art of Resilience

Slow Down

Our lives are over scheduled. Too busy. Too much going on. Our to-do lists are never ending.

To compensate, we rush. We hurry. We dart from one activity to the next and the next. If you are anything like me, you then CRASH. This happens in various ways. You either give 24/7 and then get ridiculously ill for a week... or you give and give at work and then come home and have no energy to do anything more than watch tv. Forget mowing the lawn or doing the dishes. A healthy meal is out of the question. You're exhausted.

Do you ever what would happen if you slowed down? Are you afraid the world would come crashing to a halt around you? People would die without you there? Life would end?

Well, I think I do sometimes. If I don't show up and get things done, what happens?

Worked at an assisted living facility is helping me rethink that notion. I nearly missed devotions because an ethics committee meeting ran late. As I dashed into the chapel to apologize for my lateness and begin devotions, I saw that one of the administrators was happily reading the scripture from the daily devotional. The residents were content. No one was fussed. Life carried on - and provided one of the administrators the opportunity to lead devotions which she enjoyed.
Similarly, I have found that when I rush down the hall to my office or to the next meeting, I miss conversations with elderly residents or staff who are stressed. I don't stop and pet the bird at the entry. I miss the carved pumpkins and scarecrows that serve as our fall decoration. I miss a lot.

And truthfully, when I rush, I don't get more things done. I may get more things done that day but I have to spend so much time recovering that it doesn't matter. So I'm taking things slower. I'm intentionally going slower. God help me for I know that's where God is.

After all, this way I can "keep up" with the residents as they walk...

Strings and Things

I grew up loving the sound of my father singing and playing his guitar. As I grew older this sound became less frequent as our lives got busier and new hobbies were born. Occasionally, though, he would pull out his beautiful Martin and play a few John Denver goodies. I think this also explains my deep love of folk music. Give me a simple melody on a guitar and some rich vocals and I'm good to go.

For Christmas last year, I asked for my own guitar. I've been wanting to play for a while. A rather cynical friend told me that I only wanted to play guitar to be cool and to attract the opposite sex. There are a lot of other things I could do to be cool - I don't really consider this one. As a matter of fact, when you play guitar as a pastor, you tend to get pushed into the "youth pastor" position. I resist all such stereotypes.

So I've been picking at it for the last year and picking up tidbits from various friends of mine who play.

....I love it.

And providence saw to making me play for an audience for the first time last Wednesday. I played Tift Merritt's Engine to Turn as part of my sermon. It was a difficult text. Her words, "I don't know how to fix the world," and "Don't be scared" fit very well.

More later as I continue to explore this beautiful world of stringy sound.

http://tasteandseelstc.blogspot.com/2010/11/coffee-sacrament.html

Just in case you aren't checking over there on Saturdays which is when I post. ;)

In other news, the weeks are raging on. I'm shocked to discover I've been here over two months. Doesn't seem possible. And yet, I know the road names that I'm traveling on. I have some sense of comfort in the various places I lead worship or devotions or bible studies.

I was chatting with a fellow intern about comfort levels. How comfortable do we want to get? Comfortable enough that we have some confidence in what we are doing and where, etc. But not so comfortable that we have stopped challenging ourselves to explore, grow, challenge, and get OUT of our comfort zones. It seems I am seeking comfort still in some areas and pushing myself in others. Like everything it seems to be a balance.

My employer is holding a benefit art show this weekend and I got to purchase my very first piece of art at it last night. I'm going to go to the artists reception later and try to get a picture with the artist, too. It is a beautiful watercolor....

Worth Reading

A great blog post: My Son is Gay

Spiritual Warfare Part Two (or Three?)

I spent the week wondering and sorting through my feelings on this spiritual realm issue. Though odd things kept happening through at least Thursday afternoon, I had a series of very helpful discussions and revelations.

To begin with, I have heard people talk about the devil attacking more the closer a person gets to God. And though I can see some biblical basis for that if we twist the story of Job, I don't believe in that. The idea that we get attacked simply because we are drawing closer to God is ridiculous. Instead, I think in terms of opening myself up to the divine. As I grow deeper in my spiritual life, I take the bad in with the good. As I open myself up to Holy Spirit, it makes sense that I'd begin to understand the darker side as well as the light.

And instead of thinking of it as warfare which would mean I'm on a battlefield daily, I choose to think of those darker forces as a part of creation. Not something to fight against and struggle with but to accept. They're there. They're around. Scriptures tell us they recognize Jesus. And in the demoniac, Jesus is merciful to them. This is not a battle scene.

So I accept that those forces (or whatever you'd like to call them) are there but I'm not fighting against them. My supervisor suggested I simply remind them they're part of God's mysterious creation. I'll let you know what the results are.

Already I can assure you I am much calmer. I'm sorting out what to do with this new addition to my life and weighing it against the overwhelming presence of good that is already alive there.

Here Comes the Sun

And then... well, and then comes the Son. Comes to me in the form of words of love and encouragement and affirmation from my brothers and sisters in Christ.

From my friend David:
*traces sign of the Cross on forehead*
"For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord."
You are a called and claimed child of God. Nothing can stand against our God, who loved us so much that death and sin themselves were conquered for love of us.

From my friend Carolyn:
If ever someone I knew was a vehicle for the light and laughter that send the dark spirits running, you have been that in my life. So even if you're not sure of it, I believe that when you tell the devil to go back to hell, he hears the power of God in you and turns tail and runs. May it be so.

And so many more....

Thanks to you all dear brothers and sisters. May God's blessings rain down upon you.

Spiritual Warfare

Do you believe in spirits? Spiritual forces at work in the world? Spiritual warfare? The Holy Spirit? The devil?

I've been having one of those eerie occurances where something keeps popping back up into conversation. Like you've never heard of etoufee in your life but then you see it on a menu, read about it in a book, and a friend tells you she just had delicious crab etoufee. On of THOSE kinds of things.

For me, it is has been about the spiritual realm. To begin with, it is All Saints Day and last night was All Hallows Eve. Ghosts, goblins, vampires, zombies, and werewolves abound with the other Buzz Lightyear and Bumblebee costumes. I've also had my nose in the Sookie Stackhouse series that abounds with vampires, were wolves, witches, and fairies. An undercurrent to a very normal world.

Then I've had two completely unrelated conversations about people's belief in a very present spiritual realm. Though I've always had a strong belief that spiritual forces are at work in the world, it has been vague in practice. Mostly, I see how the devil delights in twisting something harmless into something wicked. How else you explain affairs? Embezzling? Stealing or cheating in any sense, actually. That line in the Lord's Prayer - "lead me not into temptation but deliver me from evil" or "save me from the time of trial." I think that's EXACTLY what Jesus was talking about.

Reference Job and Jesus' time in the wilderness with the devil. It's real. And today, it feels like I'm the target. That depression I struggle with? I think that's being used against me. My relationships with several individuals feel very strained. I don't like it.

So I'm doing the best I can. Say a little prayer for me, please? I'll repay it in full when I can.

Humble Humans as Vampire Food

Vampires fascinate me. I don't remember a time when I was fascinated by vampires. Werewolves, zombies, and other fantastical creatures are cool, too.... but they never had the allure that the undead did.

There have been as many interpretations and "rules" about vampires as denominations of Christianity. For instance, they come out in the sun and sparkle or they burn instantly into a pile of ashes and dust. Some people survive being bitten, some die, some turn into vampires after ingesting vampire blood. There are variations on healing powers, enchantment, pleasure/pain, how they sleep, sex drives, and so on. You must approach each "denomination" with eyes and ears open for the differences. (Reference: Twilight Series, Sookie Stackhouse Series, Anne Rice, House of Night young adult fiction series, Buffy, and more.)

The consistent threads in vampire folklore are never the vampires themselves for those rules flux and change from one category to the next. What is consistent and fascinating for me is always the relationship vampires have with humans. The reaction on the human side varies from curiosity to fear and from acceptance to murder. On the flip side, some vampires dismiss the sanctity of human life and devalue them merely as "blood bags." They are the superior race. These vampires are in conflict with the vampires who, for whatever reason, value human life. Sometimes it is their memory of their own human life and their longing for that life once again. Other times, there is a love interest and this shakes up the food chain. And then there are those who simply value humans and see them as equals in this mortal world (though there is also a motivation to get along with humans for selfish desires and ease of "living.")

It always seems to paint an interesting portrait of our own values of humans. Who do we value? See as equals? What is simply around us for the taking? When do our own thoughts of being superior lead to death of the inferior?

It is timely always as we, humanity, lift up lives to preserve and lives to destroy. Casualties in war that are listed as a cold statistic... and often this number reflects only the soldiers on one side of the war - forget the other enemy soldiers or civilians on either side. There are the deaths of homosexual youth catching the attention of the media right now. This is also seen within the church as questions rage on about whether or not it is a sin and how to respond to those brothers and sisters who are GLBTQ or those who believe differently about it than we personally do. And I stand as a woman in a world and culture where we are often devalued, even if jokingly or in jest by well intentioned males.

How do we treat those whom are different than us? How do we value the lives of humans (think outside of family and friends here, even outside your faith or country)? The life of creation as we see it in animals, plants, water, and air? Are we curious or outraged? Accepting or rejecting? How does this effect the world around us, beyond our own front doors?

So while there might be something sinister or Freudian about undead creatures who feed off the blood of humans, what does it say about them that it is human blood that sustains them? Then of course I start to wonder what sustains me that I take for granted daily - a warm bed, food, clean air, sunlight, family and friends, a savior on a cross, technology, the ability to read and write and connect through the internet to the world.

I am humbled.

Depression and Grace

Depression is a funny little beast. I struggle with it. Issues of self worth or loneliness or inactivity creep up and strike me. Sometimes it is situational - my difficult candidacy process, a conversation with someone, the ups and downs of being in relationship with others, CPE last summer, illness...

There is a quote in the foreword of "The Shack" that I reference often: "I suppose that since most of our hurts come through relationships so will our healing, and I know that grace rarely makes sense for those looking in from the outside." (pg 11)

This might be a good opportunity for you to go read my post yesterday on Taste and See.

And since this is Reformation Sunday and we love to talk about the grace of God, I am wondering how it all ties together. How do both our hurts and healings happen through others and where is grace? Do we have to go through the waiting and wondering and wandering so that we are more joyful when whatever it is arrives?

It often seems to me that vacations happen RIGHT when you really need them. A reading week break in seminary or a visit with a friend. Is there some kind of "fulfilling the prophecy" thing going on here? You know a vacation is coming so you allow the stress to build and build? Or is God simply big enough to know when that tension has built high enough that you turn to your God and are rewarded with healing or an answer. "Your faith has made you well."

I don't know. I'm just setting a table full of food for thought. Chow down and let me know what you think.

Blog World

I follow several blogs. I then have to unfollow blogs when writers stop posting. But then I revisit old posts. I find new blogs. The cycle continues. It is a lovely way to connect to the world.

One of the ones I keep returning to: http://oyeperegrina.blogspot.com/

A quote she posted that I love:

"i write because it is dangerous, a bloody risk, like love, to form the words, to say the words, to touch the source, to be touched, to reveal how vulnerable we are, how transient we are. i write as though i am whispering in the ear of the one i love."

-terry tempest williams, red

All By Myself

Well, mostly all by myself. My supervisor preached. But I did everything else. It was terrifying! I survived. The spirit showed up. I was washed in grace. I survived! Did I mention I survived? *big sigh*

Wrestling

Noting all our fears, our broken hips, our battles with God and angels, and our blessings.... I am exceptionally comforted by this passage. It is one of the most beautiful reunions in the entire human story. Jacob is limping to meet his brother who he fears will destroy all he is and has or at the very least turn his face away and reject him.

"But Esau ran to meet Jacob and embraced him; he threw his arms around his neck and kissed him. And they wept."

Distance

There isn't a person I know that doesn't miss someone who is far away. And though most of us miss someone who has died and is no longer on the planet, I'm talking about the missing that could be fixed by a walk or a ride in a car or on a boat or plane.

I have "people homes" scattered around the world. Most are in Tennessee. More are in Chicago, on internship around the US, or in a foreign country. Others are elsewhere. The point is, they aren't here. And that makes being in relationship with people difficult.

From where does your energy come when you know that you are beginning another relationship that will soon be challenged by distance? And though there are no guarantees in any relationship that it will last beyond tomorrow (for life is constantly changing and challenging us), there is comfort in knowing one will get to enjoy it for a while.

I remember telling my friend Rob a few years ago when I knew I was moving to Chicago that I hoped when he turned 21 that he'd have a beer on my behalf to celebrate (knowing I wouldn't be there). And he looked at me like I just said something horribly offensive. "Um, you can just buy me one. You'll see me when I'm 21." He made clear what I was too scared to hope for - that we'd be friends two years later even though our paths were pulling us in absolutely opposite directions on the planet. We'd be friends despite the distance.

In May 2010, a day before he moved to Florida and a week after my semester in Chicago ended, we sat on the rooftop of one of our favorite Chattanooga locals and shared a beer. It was a beautiful affirmation of our promise to remain friends no matter where life took us.

I thank God for my friends though I still don't like the distance that separates us and the time in between our visits. Here's to phone calls, skype conversations, snail mail, and warm fuzzies shared with friends that are friends no matter the distance. I thank God for each of you.


EDIT: I shared this post with Rob and he replied with this. "on the roof of that restaurant, an overwhelming peace of mind came over me. call it crossing things off of a list. call it para-kletos. call it love incarnate. call it friendship. whatever it was, i was able to turn and walk away knowing that distance no longer mattered.

i will never enjoy a beer quite as much as i enjoyed that one. love you, al." He put it into words in a way I couldn't - distance no longer matters.

Taste and See

----> http://tasteandseelstc.blogspot.com/

This is LSTC's blog - stories from seven different students across campus (and the country) post once a week. I'm Saturdays if you want to check mine out!

Lessons in Empathy

I caught the Norwalk virus Friday. Well, I'm not sure when I caught it, but my stomach started getting REALLY cranky Friday. Thankfully, it is a 24 hour virus so I was starting to feel better on Saturday. I don't think I could have taken any more gut wrenching than I did. I'm still trying to be gentle to my body and eat smaller meals of easily digestible food.

What I've discovered? This is a lesson in empathy. As I lay in bed resting still today and letting my stomach digest a larger lunch, I think about all the people who spend their lives in bed. Not by choice or laziness but by virtue of their bodies giving out, being sick, or some other reason. And perhaps even for those who choose it, I feel their pain.

It is hard to lie in bed and wait for your body to feel better. I cannot imagine thinking that it would only get worse from here on out. Where does one's hope go? Additionally, there is only so much one can do from a bed. You can watch movies and read books or other literature but your activities are severely limited. But hope flutters in other ways, too. It gets old looking at the same view but you learn to pay attention to your visitors, the noises around you, and the changing of the light. You become very aware of where you are and very aware of your body. You cannot not notice.

So for all those stuck in bed today, I wish you visitors, change, relief, and joy in the movement of the sun.

Patterns and Cycles and Tree Houses

I was discussing self fulfilling prophecies earlier today and my brain is still crunching away on them. How much does a defeatist attitude lead to the failure of the task before us? If someone began a project to build a tree house by saying, "Well this is never going to work. It's going to be ugly and no one will want to play in it," to what extent will this promise an atrocious piece of crap in a tree?

I think we do this about a lot of things. No, this guy will never like me and it won't work out. Then, when it doesn't work out, who is surprised? Perhaps it is a self defense mechanism. We throw out these statements at the beginning so that in the end we can look back and say, "Well, it was never going to work anyway. I said so from the very beginning."

What are we so afraid of? Are we more terrified that we might actually build a stunningly beautiful tree house? Create a life long relationship? Be successful?

... I am. C'mon! That's terrifying! Failure is so much easier to swallow because it plays into all the myths the world tells us about ourselves - that we aren't good enough, lovable, or able to build tree houses. I'm not sure why I listen to those voices so much but they only seem more valid when I do fail at something in life. It almost seems to prove all those negative voices right. So we say, "The tree house is ugly as sin; they're right, I'm a horrible builder."

How do we break the cycle? Bust out of the pattern? Tell the negative voices to shut up and just be confident about whatever and wherever life has brought us? I am still shocked to see how many of us, me included, are trapped by fear. The text this last week was about faith the size of a mustard seed. The topic of the sermon I heard was, "You have faith enough to do the work." And I thought, really? I'd be right there with the disciples saying, "Increase my faith!" Because, sweet Jesus, I don't feel like I have enough of anything to do all that God is calling me to do. I want to save the world... but I'm exhausted from the small tasks of internship!

I digress. Perhaps it all goes back to that "enjoy the journey, not the destination" saying. If you want to build a tree house, forget about how it will turn out and who will enjoy it. Put your heart into it. Have fun. Paint it blue. Laugh at yourself when you hammer a board on sideways. In the end, it will be the tree house that you had a wonderful time making. And who wouldn't want to go and be there?

The Care of Mothers

I don't know much about magic but I am figuring out about the spirit and it has a lot of magic to it. Elements I don't understand. Something magical? My mother. The way she can come into a house and turn it into a home. The way she has the ability to smile at me and I feel at peace. Her insight. Her thoughtful observations of the world. Her energy. I love my mother. I am so blessed to be her daughter.

Take a moment to tell your mama how much she means to you. She's magic, I promise.

Blank Stares and Smiles

Last Monday: hell.

This Monday: heaven.

Is this ministry? Is this working with elderly? Is this being 25 in the middle of Montana on internship to become a pastor?

... all of the above?

Last Monday that wonderful woman who shared her life story with me didn't remember me at all. Not even my face. She had no idea who I was, what I was doing there, or that she had shown me her apartment and talked with me the week before about life and love.

Let's just say that was a bit of a blow. Unexpected but yet, completely understandable. How do you do ministry when you cannot build relationships in the traditional sense? So I'm rethinking ministry and relationships and how I relate to elderly. Some of my cheerleader/happy-go-lucky/sunshine qualities are serving me well. Other times, of course, the elderly look back at me like "SHUT UP STUPID YOUNG GIRL." (Yeah, last Monday again.) Other times, they look back at me and beam with the brightest smiles you've ever seen.

Can I blame it on the moon?

Words

A resident was talking yesterday about the beauty of Christmas hymns in German. He said they are just more beautiful. And then I told him how I absolutely loved Psalm 150... in Hebrew. Not only because I was forced to sing it in Hebrew class last year but because there is something lovely and beautiful about the language and the way it describes sound in that chapter. Even the word for spirit or breath in Hebrew is gorgeous - RUAH. If you say it, you breath out - "Roo-ahh." I find myself immediately contemplative of my own spirit and the breath of life. Then there's the likes of Sarah Brightman and Josh Groban who sing songs in many different languages. Are they beautiful because we have no idea what they mean?

So I'm thinking about language and the craft of writing and composing. Purposefully putting certain words next to certain other words to create a pattern, a process, a certain way of pairing words that speaks to an entirely new thought. It is an art. This isn't to say that once the words are translated that they have lost their meaning. On the contrary, one of my favorite poets does not compose in English. I rely on a poet who speaks her language AND English to rewrite her poems. I count on that poet to take the essence of the poem and convey it to me in my language. A word for word translation will not do. It does not translate. It does not convey.

And this leads me to wonder about the task of a preacher. We study the original languages so we can then read them and find a way to translate them into a message that conveys the meaning. I never knew that studying poetry would come into play so much as a preacher. Who would have ever thought? I'm not writing poems after all, I'm writing sermons. But it isn't about the words and yet, it is. If the words cannot carry the message, the message falls flat. This is my task.

Have you ever heard of Eugene Peterson? He wrote a translation of the bible into contemporary, modern language called The Message. Here's a quote from him about why: "While I was teaching a class on Galatians, I began to realize that the adults in my class weren't feeling the vitality and directness that I sensed as I read and studied the New Testament in its original Greek. Writing straight from the original text, I began to attempt to bring into English the rhythms and idioms of the original language. I knew that the early readers of the New Testament were captured and engaged by these writings and I wanted my congregation to be impacted in the same way. I hoped to bring the New Testament to life for two different types of people: those who hadn't read the Bible because it seemed too distant and irrelevant and those who had read the Bible so much that it had become 'old hat.'"

In a smaller way, every Sunday, this is the task before: make an impossibly distant and hard to relate to text be entirely real and entirely relate-able. And you know what? I absolutely love it. There is always a moment when I am writing where I go, "Oh shit. There's absolutely no way out of this misery of a parable. What was Jesus talking about?!" And yet, every single time, a light bulb has clicked on, the spirit has shown up, and I have been humbled into realizing yet again, how great is the love of God.

Oh, do I love words and the Word.

Preachin'

A link for you! (It's my first Sunday Sermon Manuscript!)

http://messiahlutheranbillings.org/2010/09/september-19-2010-manuscript/

Fear

Do we live in fear? Are we crippled but it? I find that most of the problems I see in the world (including my life) are traced back to fear. People stuck in jobs they hate because it is too terrifying to think of starting a new one or even not finding a new one in the first place. Or fear that the job that is fantastic will run out in the near future. Elderly who don't technically need a walker but use it for fear of falling and breaking a hip. People who are stuck in a routine because of the safety of it. People who don't try new things because new things are scary, especially when done alone (so me). Fear of being alone! (Again, totally me.) Fear that our bank account will dip into the negative when there are still bills to be paid. Fear about tomorrow's weather! Fear about crime! It seems to be everywhere.

There's that horrible token phrase, "Don't worry about anything. Pray about everything." It is cliche to an intense degree. Because of course, if we don't worry about falling down and breaking our hip, we might actually fall down and break our hip. Then come the I-told-you-so's and the regret. "I should have known better." Is there a degree of worrying that is actually helpful? Perhaps what we are really seeking is awareness. Aware of walking slower so we don't fall but not being so caught in fear that we don't walk anywhere. Aware of a new job opportunity and the reality that change is scary but that it happens anyway. Heck, here I am in Montana. I never would have guessed it.

Personally, though I still retreat to my office when I get overwhelmed (read: afraid), I find I am usually rewarded when I step out. I am met by an incredible love story that has seen war and death and still survived. I am met by gracious smiles and handshakes and hugs. I am met with a breathtaking view of mountains, bright flowers, and a moon with a face in it. The fear isn't gone but at least I'm learning that reality never bites as hard as I think it will. And if it does, I'll deal with it then. Now is not the time.

Adventure Awaits

I've got silk in my teeth from the delicious sweet corn I just ate. I took a trip over to the farmer's market this morning and spent $50 on corn, bread, cherries, strawberries, zucchini, eggs, blueberries, peaches, and honey. I had an almost spiritual time with my local deliciousness while fixing some quiche, boiling the corn, and cutting up my veggies. I love local.

And speaking of local, I have almost survived two weeks here in Billings, Montana. The last few hours of the road trip here I was freaking out. There was nothing and more nothing for miles and miles and miles. I was thinking, "Oh my goodness. Here I am going to live further out west than anyone in my family ever has and very far away from all those family and all my friends. WHAT AM I DOING?!" And then I got into Billings and discovered civilization and neighbors and people making Hall's house beautiful for my arrival. And I was more at peace. Hard to be here alone but I'm adjusting just as I should be. I found Hall's radio/cd player/record player and use it to fill the silence. That helps tremendously.

My friend Kris from seminary lives here and has been showing me around Montana. we've been to Yellowstone, Cody Wyoming, Red Lodge, and Bozeman. What beautiful, beautiful country there is here. I know I thought this was in the middle of nothing but it is quite something in the middle of a lot of something else. I think that's the biggest surprise. I never expected it to be so beautiful. Then again, I've not been here through the winter and the farmer's are predicting it to be a rough one. So keep me in your prayers. Mail me postcards, letters, and packages full of love. I'm on an adventure of a lifetime!

Ready or Not

Ready or not - that is the question. Ready to drive 20 hours? Sure. Ready to see the family? Yes. Ready to see the new house and start internship? Yes please.

Ready to leave here? No.

It's more than the piles around my apartment that still must find homes in bags and boxes and wish their way into my car tomorrow. It's more than the feeling of sickness in the pit of my stomach that I can't shake with sleep or foods full of good vitamins and protein and fiber. Nothing helps.

Last night, I had a packing party with two friends. We took a time out and gathered on my (tragically still here) mattress on the floor in the "dining room" and talked about life. About relationships. About becoming the person you always hoped you would be and accepting the person you really are. Knowing yourself. Enjoying life. Being single or at least unmarried and why America says that is wrong... and how frustrating that is. About how life keeps changing. It was wonderful.

And then I realized they are not sitting in my piles of things to take with me.

I remember when I was 11 and moved for the first time how hard it was. My neighbor told me "Home is where your stuff is." I'd like to know what she would say when I tell her that my "stuff" is in a lot of different places. I've got boxes in both my parent's basements. Storage items and things I've passed on in at least 10 different homes of friends and other family. Some will find it's way to Montana where it will share space with the furnishings of someone else's home. So home for me is actually in a lot of different places by her definition.

I got a message from a friend when I was in TN last weekend: "Enjoy home while you are away from home and on your way to your new home." I smiled. She's completely correct. I'm blessed to have a lot of homes. But...

That doesn't stop me from resisting this big move like it is the plague. I just need more time. I'm not quite ready. Just another week. Another month. Another year. Another lifetime. Then I will be ready. Then.

Advice

So I keep finding myself in situations where people are giving me advice. About moving. About ink. About being friends with an ex. About life. MY life.

And I have to say, today I reached the ceiling on getting advice. I appreciate the balanced feedback from my spiritual director who I approached with these issues. I appreciate the insight from my mother who knows what she's talking about and knows me ridiculously well. I appreciate my tattoo artist advising me on tattoo care as my last one turned out beautifully and it is his passion.

What I'm full up on right now is everything else - "Well, you know... You should really... " I don't want to imply that you, dear reader, are unwanted in my life. But the advice about packing, internship, my ink, my ex, and my body are getting tiresome. It makes me feel as if everyone in my life sees me as a woman who is inept in all areas. It doesn't feel so nice.

Now, being on the other end of advice giving, I get that it generally comes from a place that is well meaning and sometimes even loving. I gave my mother advice when I was home last weekend and we got into a tiff about it. So I do it, too. I guess what I'm wondering is why? Why is it so easy to give advice and so annoying to get? Even if it comes from someone you trust who has good intentions, it rarely sounds like anything other than, "You have failed completely at (this aspect of your) life. Let me fix you."

My supervisor last summer told me that not all people hear advice this way. Like it implies there is something wrong with them. I remember being told that I had pretty much failed to connect with a patient or benefit them in any way and I broke down in tears. I had failed! My supervisor stepped in. No, I had not failed as a human being, a child of God, a hospital chaplain. I had failed to connect with this patient, this time, in this training session. What was all the fuss about?

It was a wake up call for sure. Why did that failure feedback send me into such a tizzy? (I've been reading too much 'Llama Drama' if 'tizzy' has entered my vocabulary.) Equally, it took me months to sort through the feedback that I was racist, sexist, and more after a challenging Endorsement Panel last fall. I was a mess in the beginning; vacillating between, "Is that true?!?!?" and "That can't be true!!!!!!" Now, almost a year later, I know to what extent I am a racist, sexist, and more and what else in the room was not actually MY stuff at all.

Is the same thing happening now? People giving me advice they must think I need to hear and my rejecting it? I can't decide. It seems very unhelpful now. I guess I will tell you in a year.

In the meantime, cease and desist.

Julie and Julia

I'm sitting here on my mother's couch watching Julie and Julia which incidentally combines two things I love - writing and cooking. Writing is an old love. Cooking is a new love. I think most of this is formed by being in community with people who are passionate about food. And not just any food. Fresh food. Local produce. Homemade deliciousness.

Think about how many ways we daily cut corners for convenience, time saving, and efficiency. Parmesan cheese already grated in a plastic bowl. Pre-chopped carrots and tomatoes. Whip cream in a tub or a can.

So this year, surrounded by the influence of people making brownies from scratch and their own whip cream, cooking with freshly chopped vegetables and making their own tortillas, I got inspired. So I started cooking without cutting corners.

Let me tell you - the difference is astounding. My first quiche had pre-made refrigerated crust, cubed ham, canned veggies, and pre-shredded cheese. It was bland and barely passable. My latest had home made wheat crust, fresh veggies, chicken that I cooked and cubed, and two different kinds of cheese that I shredded from blocks. It was FANTASTIC.

And I think part of it is that it is so much FUN to do all of this: to shred my own cheese, cut corn off a cob, and cook a breast of chicken in its own little dish (a former fear of mine was cooking chicken). I got the experience the JOY of cooking and I think it must come across in the actual food. What is that about?

I am not completely naive. I realize I am blessed to even be able to find and afford fresh food and sometimes organic or local food. I am blessed to have some time to set aside and prepare a dish for people I love. I am blessed to be able to have a home to cook it in. I guess I'm trying to live into my blessings?

... and it gives me deep joy to do so. So yay for fun movies about blogging and cooking. And yay for old and new loves.

Dive in dear friends. Dive into your blessings.

The Art of Leaving

A pastor I met recently called seminary "Transition Practice." In other words, it isn't so much about the classes and the books as it is about the art of leaving. Of saying goodbye. Of going from one community to the next. Of starting anew with a new set of somebodies. Of trusting there will be new somebodies that will love like these somebodies we already know and love.

I'm having a difficult time leaving. Saying goodbye. Going from this community to the next in Montana. Trusting that there will be new somebodies that will love me like my somebodies already do. I guess I still need a lot of practice but I can't say I'm looking forward to another round of goodbye's. Does it ever get easier?

As I give away my laundry hamper, my couch, my things that are really only things, I find myself flooded with all the memories surrounding them. I don't need to have this couch (I am on it now) to remember four rounds of horrible illnesses, fantastic movies with friends, cuddling with my boyfriend, and fantastic conversations over coffee, tea, and homemade meals. It doesn't stop me from hugging a cushion as tightly as I can and humming the lyrics to Ingrid Michaelson's "Breathing" though. Oh goodbye, why are you so difficult?

Comfort vs. Living Simply

I am one of the last interns to leave for internship - one of the last to start. This has caused me to see my friends through several rounds of packing and giving away. There are the three piles: take, store, get rid of. The "get rid of" stack is generally sub divided into trash and charity depending on the quality of the item. This sorting process has been especially interesting in light of my time in Mexico this summer. As a citizen of over-consuming-America, what do I do with all my stuff? How much do I NEED? What stuff is sentimental but functionless? What stuff is completely superfluous?

My greatest conundrum for moving to Montana is what to do with all that STUFF that I've accumulated in the last two years added to the things I brought with me in Henry the first year. More specifically, what to do with my couch, table, bed, entertainment center, tv, microwave... when I am moving into a fully furnished house? I only need to take the essentials (which, I apologize, also include my guitar and xbox and several well loved mugs and blankets!).

I lived perfectly find in Mexico for a week living out of a suitcase. Simply. My needs have been provided every single day even though I feel broke most of the time. I've been very blessed. Maybe because of this assurance, ultimately I decided to get rid of everything. Sell. Give to our school's international students who need to furnish their apartment. I came into this very fantastic apartment with very little and filled it up with fantastic hand me down furniture. All of it was provided for me perfectly. Can't I trust that God will provide for me again senior year?

So I had a yard sale on Saturday and gave the rest of my things away. I have various odds and ends boxes of office supplies, cd's, and books to go with my clothes, kitchen stuff, and the aforementioned essentials. In the past, I've been overwhelmed with how much stuff I have. This time, I'm contemplative about how much stuff we all have. Other cultures are not this cluttered!! Well, let's be safe and say that there are many other cultures who live (and LIVE abundantly!!!) a lot simpler than we Americans do.

In a note to my supervisors, I said that I was planning on only packing a car full of things to bring with me. Their response: "Sounds like you will be packing lightly, which I believe is one of God's intentions for us on this good earth." So I think I'm going to be in good hands this year!

Any thoughts on your STUFF? Over consuming? Ironic joy of consuming (retail therapy, comfort foods, etc)?

Introverted Tendancies

Announcement: I am an introvert. I am an introvert who loves being around people and needs contact and relationship to stay sane... but it is also draining. I have to have a place to come home to and be restored. Be re-energized. This causes some particular problems in this field where so much of my life and job are to be with people. I recognize that everyone needs some alone time and that all people crave human contact but there is a difference between the people who get their energy FROM other people and people who get their energy from being alone.

So says the source of all common knowledge, Wikipedia: Extraverts (also spelled extroverts) tend to be gregarious, assertive, and interested in seeking out excitement. They tend to think out loud and cannot solve things in their heads as well as introverts. However, it should not necessarily be assumed that just because one has many friends that they are an extravert. Introverts, in contrast, tend to be more reserved, less outgoing, and less sociable. They are not necessarily loners but they tend to have smaller circles of friends. Introverts have an easier time solving things inside their head without help. Introversion does not describe social discomfort but rather social preference. An introvert may not be shy at all but may merely prefer non social or less social activities. There are people who are inbetween, those that don't mind to be in a big crowd or alone. These people may have a large group of friends but don't mind spending time alone.

I am an introvert. So right now, I'm basically ready for a nap. Anyone else?

Where has my blog gone?

Frankly, I blame it on poor time management. Alas, I'm going to try to get this going again for internship. I'll need my outlet!

I'll be moving out of my Chicago apartment on the 20th of August and driving to Billings in three parts - Chicago to St. Paul/Minneapolis; MN to Bismark, ND; ND to Billings. That way I get to stop in on family and visit and it is nicely chunked out in 6-7 hour pieces (20 hours total). I'm going to attempt to pack Henry and nothing else. I might mail a few boxes out west in the end, depending on how much stuff I have. And let's remember... I have a lot of stuff. I try to keep consolidating and what not, but I'm a single woman. I have a tool box; multiple sets of sheets and towels; wall decor; books galore; various kitchen objects that range from useful to fun; a laptop, guitar, and an xbox; and clothing including winter wear! It's going to be fun...

But I have a whole month to get there. Let me tell you what I've been up to this SUMMER!

That's right. I got/get a summer. One of the last, I'm assuming. That's the beauty of starting internship September 1st. But I got a summer job - several jobs in fact. Small ones but they are fantastic and put a little money in my pocket. The first is working for a youth mission program out of the seminary. For one of the programs (there are several), I spent three weeks with 16 high school students and a few other adult mentors. We spent a week in Chicago (meeting with various Chicago advocacy groups and professors, touring Hyde Park, learning about Islam and meeting with Muslim youth, and beginning to talk about traveling to Mexico...), one week in Mexico (at the Lutheran Center in Mexico City and CCIDD in Cuernevaca learning about the culture and the effects of NAFTA, meeting with Mexicans, and seeing where Liberation Theology was born), then a week back in Chicago (to meet with immigrants in the Chicago area, debrief everything, and say goodbye). Generally, this sounds like an introvert's version of hell but it was really quite fantastic. I got to work with some of my favorite people and the youth taught me a lot about how crappy it is to be a teenager right now. I couldn't be happier I did it though I was more than exhausted at the end of the third week.

Besides that, I've been meeting with youth groups coming to Chicago for the week. We talk about vocation and where God might be calling them - both now and in the future. I've been babysitting two fantastic youngin's - we go on long walks, chill, and talk about the alphabet. It has been ridiculously hot, so I've been sleeping a bunch (/recovering from school and the youth mission program) and staying near my AC window unit. I played through the rest of Mass Effect and borrowed Mass Effect 2 from my friend Nils who is out of the country and am happily making my way through that. I'm journaling. I'm reading books. I'm organizing my head and heart and soul and apartment all at the same time in preparation for the year ahead. I'm pumped!

I'm ready for internship. For open skies. For new places. For new people and faces. For a culture that might be as foreign to me as Mexico or as familiar as my home town. For new adventures. For getting stretched, humbled, and spiritually fed. For all that the year holds of which I have no idea. Can't wait, can't wait, but can totally take another month to get there. ;)

It's best to compose a poem...

Hello my lemons,

I'm writing poetry again. But the new stuff is too raw still so I shall post something I wrote for the seniors last year which seems perfect for the semester's wind down:

For the Seniors

If I hung you on the wall like a mirror,
I wonder if you'd talk like me, act like me.
Could I dress you up and keep you here with me?
Sing you stories and show you songs about me?
Could I hug you in the quiet crazy of my sleep
When houses I no longer live in call me home
And running never gets me where I'm going.
But they are pretty, all the same, these dream sleep dreams.
They tap at our unspoken and the too much spoken
And yet demand no specific answer for their questions.

Find me in the midst of these and sing,
Tell me how you are like my skin, my story,
But how you dream instead of ponds and rivers
Sometimes frozen but rarely walkable or warm.
How you hang art on the wall instead of mirrors
And find yourself staring at the thick paint,
Wondering why the artist painted blue
When you had always considered grass green.
Which then makes you think of open plains and fields
And following your footsteps to some new house
Some home where mirrors and art are hung side by side
But maybe you don't recognize your skin or the color of paint
When it sketches itself in unrecognizable colors and hues
On walls that look nothing like the home in your head.

Find yourself there where the rivers freeze overnight
And the sick do not always remember your name.
Find there the sad cry of tired voices
And their need for a dream like yours.
Not for mirrors or symbolic art on church walls
But for passion and a willingness to hold the pain.
For recognizing that grass is not always green
And that sometimes the strangest dreams let you run the farthest.
Hold them there and let me be here in my wandering,
Also finding the places that somehow feel like home.

More lyrics. Alanis style.

How bout getting off of these antibiotics
How bout stopping eating when I'm full up
How bout them transparent dangling carrots
How bout that ever elusive kudo

Thank you India
Thank you terror
Thank you disillusionment
Thank you frailty
Thank you consequence
Thank you thank you silence

How bout me not blaming you for everything
How bout me enjoying the moment for once
How bout how good it feels to finally forgive you
How bout grieving it all one at a time

Thank you India
Thank you terror
Thank you disillusionment
Thank you frailty
Thank you consequence
Thank you thank you silence

The moment I let go of it was
The moment I got more than I could handle
The moment I jumped off of it was
The moment I touched down

How bout no longer being masochistic
How bout remembering your divinity
How bout unabashedly bawling your eyes out
How bout not equating death with stopping

Thank you India
Thank you providence
Thank you disillusionment
Thank you nothingness
Thank you clarity
Thank you thank you silence

I'm going to Montana

....and I just keep singing parts of this song in my head.

"Wide Open Spaces" by Dixie Chicks

Who doesn't know what I'm talking about
Who's never left home, who's never struck out
To find a dream and a life of their own
A place in the clouds, a foundation of stone

Many precede and many will follow
A young girl's dream no longer hollow
It takes the shape of a place out west
But what it holds for her, she hasn't yet guessed

[Chorus:]
She needs wide open spaces
Room to make her big mistakes
She needs new faces
She knows the high stakes

She traveled this road as a child
Wide eyed and grinning, she never tired
But now she won't be coming back with the rest
If these are life's lessons, she'll take this test

[Repeat Chorus]
She knows the highest stakes
She knows the highest stakes
She knows the highest stakes
She knows the highest stakes

The art of Love

I keep saying I have a problem with the phrase, "Hate the Sin, Love the Sinner." Most of this is based on the fact that I think we stop at the first part of the phrase or even the first word. Getting permission to hate in the name of doing something good has unleashed an awful kind of hell on the world. Let's just have the second part - "Love the Sinner." Wasn't Jesus' commandment to love God and neighbor? There wasn't hate in that phrase. I wonder if we are even capable of separating the two. Perhaps only Jesus is capable of that.

At least, I've not seen it successfully done by any human or any church. How does one hate the sin but love the sinner? Surely we understand that sin is wrong, etc, etc and that God loves the person and not the sin. I've just been getting multiple challenges lately to hate the sin. (It generally begins with, "But the bible says....") Is this our call? Are we called to hate the sin and love the sinner? I don't think I like being called to hate. I recognize that sin is worth hating and I certainly am not promoting it but I don't really think we as humans can actually separate the hate and love. In our task to hate the sin, we hate the sinner. Or as someone else posed, perhaps the problem is that we really, really love the sin and aren't actually capable of hating it. So I'm casting the question outward - can we hate the sin and love the sinner TRULY? I feel like I am called to love - I'm not so sure about this hate thing.

The Task

It is hard to think of ministry as a blessing right now. Jesus as my friend. God at my side.... Not because God is absent but because of how incredibly difficult this life is. The odd isolation that choosing to be a prophet for God brings. The challenge of being a model for others, a leader, a guide. Someone who has her spiritual gifts and blessings straightened out and is living into the life God has called her to. Even the little things like remembering to actually pray for someone when you told them you would. Completing assignments even when your emotions are distracting. Staying in touch with family and friends who are far away when there never seems to be time for a phone call. Remembering to take time for myself and not knowing what exactly to do in that time but sleep.

I'm just saying it is difficult, even while it is a blessing. Trying to be happy that God has called me to ministry while at the same time grimacing with how much it seems to take of me, how much it costs. But isn't that the point? That God wants all of me?

A calling

Is this song a call story or what?

Snow Patrol - Chocolate

This could be the very minute
I'm aware I'm alive
All these places feel like home

With a name I'd never chosen
I can make my first steps
As a child of 25

This is the straw, final straw in the
Roof of my mouth as I lie to you
Just because I'm sorry doesn't mean
I didn't enjoy it at the time

You're the only thing that I love
It scares me more every day
On my knees I think clearer

Goodness knows I saw it coming
Or at least I'll claim I did
But in truth I'm lost for words

What have I done it's too late for that
What have I become truth is nothing yet
A simple mistake starts the hardest time
I promise I'll do anything you ask...this time

And the beat goes on...

Love is not a victory march, it's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah.
-"Hallelujah"

After 5 months of a really good thing, my boyfriend and I have parted ways. We said back in the beginning that being in love did not mean two people should be in a relationship. We certainly loved. That was the beautiful gift - love. But we decided it was in our mutual interest to end things now. So, I just wanted you to know.

In other news:
1. Lent is finally drawing to a close. I'm preaching Palm Sunday and the 2nd sunday of Easter.
2. My home church voted to stay in the ELCA despite the fact that some were upset by the decision to ordain gays and lesbians. The best comment about this came from a gay friend of mine: "You know, more and more of those decisions are failing..." I love it.
3. I will find out my internship site April 19th. I've interviewed so far in Somonauk, IL, Billings, MT, Austin, TX, and Vancouver, WA. I've got a few more coming up for TX and Iowa. I'll keep you posted.

Wearing the sign of the cross

I got ashes on my forehead around noon today. Still had them across my forehead when I met with the Muslim woman I tutor in English. She saw them and was about to let me know that I had some dirt on my forehead when I realized what she was pointing to. I had to explain. This is a cross of ash. This is the beginning of Lent. This is when we remember our mortality. We are dust. To dust we shall return.

Then on my way back to my apartment, an African American man saw the cross, pointed to it and nodded at me. Then we stopped and chatted for a while. He needed some cash to feed his girls so I gave him the little cash I had in my car. But what I find incredible is the connection that the ashes gave us. (Tragically, that's the only part I know wasn't a lie.) Almost like, "Hey, you, you are a Christian. Me, too."

As I continued walking I wondered, if I had washed the cross off, what would have been different about my conversations? For the man I spoke with on the street, would I have been just a college student that might have had money to give him? Instead, with both people, I got to have conversation.

So I think my Lenten discipline will be to wear the sign of the cross each day - not in ashes but perhaps in jewelry or in clothing. What will it change about how I present myself to the world? Shame? Pride? Confidence? Humility? We'll see. I'll let you know.

Waiting Game

I wonder what it would be like to know the future.

I know scores of movies and books and television shows have been dedicated to that very subject. They usually deal with the psychological aspects of it - a sense of responsibility, a foreboding gloom, an appreciation for the present, etc. I don't know what my response would be but I'm very sure I wish I knew the future right now. I'd like to know what kind of career I'm going to have, where I'm going to live, what my family will look like or if I'll be single, and then bigger things like the state of the country and the world, including south side Chicago. Would seeing the future be motivating or would it make me lazy?

Maybe God's got a good way of dealing with it after all - revealing His plan one piece at a time as it is necessary. Revealing a few steps at a time. I guess I just get frustrated waiting for God to let me in on the plan. I get tired of being patient. And then there's the theory that you don't "wait" on anyone or anything, you act. But I feel like that goes with dating theory in response to "I'm waiting for the right one to come along" less than in response to "I'm waiting for God to tell me what's up." I don't think I'm unnecessarily indecisive but I'm certainly not one to snap into action.

So what do I do? Continue to wait? Wonder? Pray? Except my prayers all seem to be exasperated questions of what the future holds. I get tired of repeating myself. ;)