In my Dreams...

I dreamt about you last night. You were so kind. Loving. You loved me. And you wouldn’t let my pain and hurt keep us from working through it and loving each other. I remember: you took me in your arms and said, “I’m not letting you put me out of your life. I love you.” And you held me. A myriad of emotions—all conflicted roiling inside.

I want you to love me; I want to hear that you actually do care. I wanted you to love me enough, but how can I forgive you? How can I let go of being so angry? How can I forgive when I have dealt day by day, hour by hour with what you have done to our family, and you (seemingly) have continued happily on? Do you even realize how changed we are because of you? Do you realize we have all but given up on institutionalized church because of you (maybe for the better)? Do you realize that I see the havoc you have wreaked on us on my husband’s face on a weekly (sometimes daily) basis? And I am helpless to help him. But I stand by him and support him, much like you should have. And how can I possibly desire your love when I want to hate you for what you’ve done to us?

I can still feel your arms around me, being the person you should’ve been. Why do I still feel so strongly? Why do I still hurt? And why, in God’s name, do I still have to see you in my dreams?

I read a blog recently, thanks to mme. bookling, that was so...poignant. Truthful. I'll share a tidbit here, but you all should enjoy it (here)

You will walk through those moments with as much grace as you will allow as your guide and a sense of adventure for your future and your path

for you see,

as much as it will burn and cause you to grit your teeth over the pain, it will bring joys bigger and wider than any you have ever experienced.

The cruelty you suffer at the hands of others

.

The slings and arrows of fortune, outrageous or otherwise

.

The moments of pouring sweat on a determine brow

.

.......

These are the moments that will give you a heart big enough to forgive your detractors, a soul wide enough to weather any storm and a constitution strong enough to climb anything you've set your goals upon....

And so I plod along, sweating, toiling through the mire of human relationships and telling myself that I am striving toward a bigger goal. One worth this fight, one that will deepen and grow me. One that will allow me to love and live as I never have before

Decisions, Questions and Answers

I've decided to go back to school. In some ways, it feels more like I have been released to go back to school, but I won't get into that. For the first few weeks, I excitedly searched the internet for schools, looked up degrees, met with my old professor and started a plan of attack for enrolling the fall of 2011. I had a plan, a destination and was planning a route to get there. Master's degree in 2 years, Doctorate degree in 4 (? hopefully), on to a teaching position at a university shortly after and intent on helping to guide the church through the beginnings of transition and change.

This weekend, I find myself suddenly doubtful. Who am I to think I can do all those things? What change can I affect on this world, on people or what's more, the church? And how am I supposed to address intangible as the church? And how could I possibly speak to an issue that is still so raw for me and that I haven't figured out for myself?

In addition to all of these questions, Tim and I have been talking a lot about where we see ourselves in the future with church, raising kids, etc. It's all been extremely....disorienting. I feel like so much of what I loved and held dear has been turned on it's ear and now I'm asking, "What does God really want for us? "What does God really want for us?” “What is God’s heart for the church?” and Where does he want to lead it? I suppose being a theologian does not mean having all the answers, but choosing to pursue them with integrity.

Just the same, I feel daunted, scared and a bit inadequate. I suppose all of that is natural and I should embrace my soul expressing itself through the process of transition.

Readers Beware: A Dark Post

A poison slipped in
In between rejection and rage, it slipped in
Biding its time
It felt like pain, like truth
And now it feels too late
Too late and I believe, and it courses through me
Not lovable
         Not worth it
                          Too much trouble
                                                      Not lovable enough
Poison greets my friends, creeps into my family
My husband's eyes are hazed with it
There is some small sanctuary in marriage, but outside doubt prevails
And the poison courses through
I feel us tearing our bodies to pieces, trying to rip it out
Why not lovable
             Why not worth it
                                     Why too much trouble

Why not lovable enough.

The Art of Losing

I have been surrounded with loss and death these last few months. My co-worker’s dad committed suicide. My other co-worker’s friend died in a car accident the day after her 21st birthday. My closest friend’s 5 year old nephew was hit by a car and died. One of my other friends shared recently that her and her husband have lost 18 people in the last 12 months, and it has so upset him that he is spending some time in a mental health care facility. Last night, Tim and I found out that his Oma passed away. And, of course, Tim lost our church and many of our close friends last month. Some of our friends that have decided to leave have lost that too. We lost faith in those people—in the church that we moved here to serve.

Closely related to the feeling of loss is loneliness. I am lonely for my family. I am lonely for the next step in our life. I am lonely at work. In these last few weeks, Tim’s schedule has changed to work nights, so I have been seeing him even less, and I think with that loss everything else comes more poignant.

I’m tired of losing. I’m tired of death. But with the sheer amount of both in my life I feel a strange sense of clarity, urgency. People die all the time. People that shouldn’t die. Things we love are stolen from us. Moments pass too quickly. And all this begs the inevitable question:

Am I living?

Am I as happy as I could be? Am I pursuing things that I care about? Am I investing in things that matter? 

Undefinable Weights

I suppose we all have those times when we wake up in the morning struck by an unexplainable heaviness. A weight that feels almost tangible.

Granted this has been a strange few months for me. It has been so bizarre how much the incident with our previous church has affected me. I find myself growing impatient about how it still hasn't passed. How grieved I still feel. How unexpectedly so many people were ripped out of my life. And how even in anger and grief, I still care about them. I'm concerned with how they're doing, I still believe that they're good people. Maybe that in itself is the most painful. What was so wrong with us that they couldn't stand to have us in their lives any more? You can say as much as you want, "it's me not you" but when has that ever lessened anyone's pain? When has that ever actually meant that you were not part of the equation?

I think I also still feel myself spinning, and frustrated again that that doesn't seem to have settled yet. I know the phrase "the rug pulled out from under you" is overused, but I can't think of a better metaphor to describe the emotional and spiritual vertigo I feel. What does God have for us next? How long will we tread water in Sacramento? Or are we here to stay for awhile?

Honestly, I think that is part of the heaviness I feel: a need to have more purpose or at least the fulfillment that comes with being dedicated to where you are and what you're doing. Perhaps some parts of enjoying the journey of life is feeling the heaviness of the need to be intentional. Or perhaps the heaviness is the soul screaming for the need to intentionally find something fulfilling. Amidst the muck and fog of life, I stir.

N.T. Wrights on my Soul

This is not a task Simply for a few backroom specialists. If church leaders themselves spent more time studying and teaching Jesus and the Gospels, a good many of other things we worry about in day-to-day church life would be seen in their proper light. It has far too often been assumed that church leaders stand above the nitty-gritty of biblical and theological study; they have done all that, we implicitly suppose, before they come to office, and now they simply have to work out the "implications." They then find themselves spending countless hours at their desks running the church as a business, raising money or working at dozens of other tasks, rather than poring over their foundation documents and enquiring ever more closely about the Jesus whom they are supposed to be following and teaching others to follow. I believe, to the contrary, that each generation has to wrestle afresh with the question of Jesus, not least its biblical roots if it is to be truly church at all--not that we should engage in abstract dogmatics to the detriment of our engagement with the world, but that we should discover more and more of who Jesus was and is, precisely in order to e equipped to engage with the world that he came to save. And this is a task for the whole church, especially those appointed to leadership and teaching roles within it.
--N.T. Wright, The Challenge of Jesus


I'm not sure exactly how to follow that except perhaps, amen and amen. I suppose I am in church leadership, but I think I would more easily identify with being the wife of a husband who is in church leadership. And that is something quite different entirely. It is perhaps, easier to have opinions & observe closely, but still maintain a position on the perimeter. It is much to easy to be involved but not involved. This last year has been eye opening, challenging, frustrating and rewarding. It's just too easy, I think, for humans to get involved and muck everything up. I don't approve of the other's expectations for me, she perceives the church is headed the wrong direction, the order of the service has not been properly planned, he spoke out of turn, I didn't agree with this particular sermon. And on and on it goes. 


I'm sick of church politics. I'm tired of the business. 


What I am not tired of is being with the people at church. Challenging and encouraging each other. Being with people who remind me, just by being who they are, that there is much to strive for in life, there is a deeper relationship to be had, there is always Someone who is in control. There is always love.


I think Wright really brings us around and redefines our perspective when he exhorts us to investigate Christ. ALL of us. How better to follow Christ than to journey together, to discover and learn together? When all of who we are, our life, our theology, our relationships, and our church are Christ-centered, we are closest to being the creatures God created us to be. We can be on the same path together, headed the same direction, and it can look different for each and every person. We can do church, and, in my dreams, lose the business of it. 


Amen and Amen?

The Truth about Being Poor

It seems to me that I am always encouraged to have and pursue my dreams. Live Life! people say. You're so young! You can do anything!! But here's my question:

How do I "live life" when I have to live my life at work, investing in things I've no natural proclivity to care about? What is the point of having dreams if they only point to the fact that I can't pursue them?

And this has brought me to a new place. Why did God have such a heart for the poor? I'm thinking it's because the poor have no freedom. They never have the choice to run off and pursue their dreams. They don't have time to do the things that really fulfill their souls. The poor have to figure out where the money is going to come from to pay for groceries that week, or rent, or electricity, or for many, simply food.

I beseech you not to think I have placed myself too closely to the poor in our world. I know I have much to be thankful for. But changing circumstances always bring new insights and perspectives and these are mine.