Meet the Scapegoat...

     In one of those annoying middle of the night brain attack sessions I woke up thinking about a situation that I experienced 21 years ago now.  At that point in time I had been ordained for almost four years, I was pregnant with my first child and I was working for two different congregations as "music minister".  One of the congregations had Sunday morning pretty traditional services and I was their organist and music director as well as parish associate.  The other church I was serving also had a morning traditional service, but I was hired to lead their evening praise service, so I played piano, directed their praise team and the music we sang and played was mostly Christian rock.  This evening service had been pretty successful, a service for younger adults, in their 20s and 30s, lead by a young charismatic preacher who had been a seminary colleague of mine.  But after I had been there about three years, 21 years ago, the charismatic young pastor had decided to resign and to begin his own congregation.  There were a number of reasons for this, but I think a lot of it had to do with conflict in the congregation.

    Without that pastor there, then, the conflict changed focus and took the form of deciding that they no longer wanted to have two services anymore, but wanted us to all join in for one service.  Two men from session met with myself and the organist/music director who played for the more traditional service with a plan of action.  They told us that their plan was that their organist would continue to be the organist and music director, but that they wanted to hire me as the assistant music director, which meant that I could come and "help" their regular music director, maybe bringing some of the praise music from the evening service to the morning services.  I explained that I had a job Sunday mornings as an organist/music director for another church.  It would not be possible for me to be at their church Sunday mornings.  But these two men (and the male organist) would not listen to me.  "Oh, it's fine!  You can just come to choir rehearsals and you can have Sunday's off from your other job to play for us occasionally!"  

    "No, I can't.  I get two Sundays a year off from my other job.  I cannot come over and play for you occasionally."

    "Oh, it's fine!  We'll just switch and our organist can go play for them while you play for us!"

    "No.  I have a contract with that other church that does not include bringing in substitutes on Sunday mornings.  They have hired ME, not this other person and you cannot assume they will be okay with me sending someone else to lead them."

    "Oh it's fine!  You will just be helping our organist anyway!  It's not a problem at all!"

    I finally just sat there quietly, saying nothing.  They weren't listening.  And several things were very, very obvious to me:

    1.  Their current organist/music director had absolutely no need for an assistant.

    2.  The only reason they were pushing this agenda is that they knew that if they fired me in order to unite the two services, probably all the young people they were hoping to have leave the evening service to join in the morning service would also leave the church.

    I could see the manipulation, but I didn't know what to do about it.  They had no intention of listening to me at all.  

    But about a week later, a young, female member of session who attended the evening services approached me and asked for my opinion on it.  I explained to her exactly what I had tried to explain to these three men: I have a Sunday morning job where I am the music director/organist.  I am also parish associate there which means I get to preach on occasion and am recognized for being an ordained pastor.  I cannot give up a job where I am valued and have meaningful work, a job I have had as long as this one, for a new job as an "assistant" to a man who doesn't need an assistant simply because it feels politically expedient to the session to retain me as an employee.

    Two weeks later at a public meeting discussing the future of the church, the congregation was told that any division in the church was my fault.  The woman speaking explained that I had told the three men (the two session members and the music director) one thing, while going behind their back to talk to another session member with another story all together.  It was MY fault if all the young people left the church because I was not willing to work with them.  I was an evil, destructive person for not doing their bidding, and staying on as assistant to the music director.

    I was shocked.  So shocked that I became speechless.  I was never good in confrontive situations with being able to speak my truth.  I never was.  And in this case, the shock of what they were saying left me absolutely speechless.

    Afterwards a special session meeting was called and I was "invited" to share my story.  I went to the meeting and tried to explain again that I had a Sunday morning job already, at which I was organist and parish associate.  I explained once again that I only got two weeks off from that job and that it was clear to me that I was not actually needed to be the assistant to the music director at this church.

    But my "persecutors" (as I came to think of them) were masters at turning the questions around and making it appear, once again, that I was the bad guy in this situation.  "So, you are unwilling to be an 'assistant'" one said.  "You feel you are too good to work under anyone else."

    "No!" I said.  "At the church where I work in the mornings, I am just parish associate.  That means I work under the pastors of the church.  At my last church I was an Associate Pastor.  I had no trouble working under someone else.  But you are asking me to quit a job I love where I am the music director, organist, and parish associate to start what is basically a new job as an unneeded assistant."

    "Yep! She thinks she is too good for us!"  the response came back.

    I was dumbfounded.  If I had been a man, no one would ever have questioned the choice to stay in a job where I had more responsibility, more consistency, was needed, was valued, to take a new position as an unneeded, unnecessary assistant to someone else!  No one would have questioned that.  But once again, their comments and attacks left me inarticulate, unable to speak my truth, unable to defend myself.   All I could do was say, "I'm sorry.  I cannot take this job."  

    As I woke in the middle of last night I found myself moving, though, from anger to compassion.  This little group of folk had just lost their pastor.  They were about to also lose most of the young people that that pastor had nurtured: a whole congregation of younger folk that had been brought together into a thriving community.  Without those young people, eventually the church would close, as it did a few years later.  They did not have the vision to make different choices.  And they needed someone to blame.  It no longer served them to blame the pastor who had left.  The decisions they were making now were their own to make.  I was an easy scape-goat.  I didn't know most of them and they didn't know me because none of these folk except the one female session member who had talked to me, had ever attended the evening service that I had played and directed the music for.  Self-reflection in this situation would simply have been too painful.  Thinking of solutions outside of the box was too much a stretch for them when they were stressed and grieving.  And they couldn't do these things.  

    These memories also led me to think about the many ways in which people manipulate truth.  As we've watched over the years, but especially in the fairly recent past, people believe what will most validate their already held beliefs.  They will even deny their senses, proclaiming things didn't happen that they saw with their own eyes if doing so will help them to uphold their old beliefs and values.  I was stunned to hear, the other day, that some people are now denying the attack on the capitol that happened in January.  But I shouldn't have been.  Despite the video coverage, despite the fact that it was caught live and we all saw it, when threatened with a truth that will make people have to re-evaluate their stance, many will choose to ignore their own senses and own experiences.  And again, it comes back to the reality that self-reflection for many folk is simply too painful.  It's just too hard for many people to have to change their ideas, their understandings, their beliefs.  They'd rather deny their senses than have to change ideas that have grounded them for so long.  

    None the less, I think the pursuit of truth is a valuable endeavor, even if it is painful, even if it is hard.  I don't want to live a lie, personally.  I don't believe it ultimately serves me to hang on to things that are not real, just so I can tell myself I was right in my former opinions.  Why are we here if not to grow?  And that growth requires looking deep, being willing to change, being open to learning that we were wrong and may have to evaluate situations differently.  

    I still strive for compassion for those who cannot see, who choose not to see.  I would wish for them something better.  But that is each person's decision to make.  For myself, I will take the reminder of what I experienced 21 years ago as a call to listen and a call to look with honesty.  I will take it as a gentle push to be willing to self-reflect and to not scape-goat others when I have fault in a situation that is hard or painful.  I will use it to remind myself that not one of us has the whole story, the whole truth.  There is always more to learn, more ways to grow, and more hope for bridging.  

Growing, Learning

     A wise man once said to me, "When I graduated from high school, I knew everything.  When I finished college, I realized there were a few things I didn't really know anything about.  By the time I received my master's, I realized there were only one or two areas in which I was really an expert.  But when I finished my doctorate, I finally realized that I really knew nothing about anything."

    I think I was in my first year of college when he said this to me.  And so, as someone who was still feeling pretty smart, pretty learned, pretty on top of the world, I could only nod in my own sense of "understanding this" as just one more sign that I did, in fact, know all that was necessary for me to know.  But, while education certainly has been part of teaching me in the fact that I really know precious little about anything, I actually think my greater teacher has been time and experience.  The longer I am on this planet, the more I realize how little I truly understand about pretty much anything.

    I write as a way to deal with all that I don't understand, as a way to try to process through the many levels and layers of non-understanding that I experience.  As William Faulkner once said, “I never know what I think about something until I read what I’ve written on it.”

    But this morning I simply found myself aware of how little I understand of other people: their motives, their decisions, their beliefs, even.  

    Still, rather than seeing this as a failing, I'm seeing it more as an invitation.  I want to learn, I want to grow.  And I find that in my learning, there is also growing.  In my exploring and talking to others, especially, perhaps, others who see the world very differently than I do, I do grow.  

    A small group in my church is taking the Brownicity Course: What Lies Between Us.  While our group had been reading a number of wonderful books on Racism in the United States, I have to say, this course that we are now taking is absolutely incredible.  It covers so much material and backs all of it with resources, readings, podcasts, videos, etc.  It is a very inexpensive course that has far more information and data in it than I could have expected and it far exceeds my expectations in terms of both quantity and quality of what is being offered.  While the history of this country is disturbing, shocking, upsetting in so many ways as we look at how we have harmed people of color and frankly anyone that we chose at different points in time to identify as "different" or "other", I deeply believe that we will never be able to make the changes we want to see, the changes that are necessary on our journey to "love one another as we love ourselves" until we truly understand our history.  

    But in the midst of this, my understanding of the continued racism, anger, and hatred that we see has baffled me at so many levels.  This course is helping me in that, as well.  One of the videos we were given to watch was a Ted talk on the psychological differences between liberals and conservatives.  Taking the time to look at the base differences in values was very helpful, as well as why those differences in values exist in the first place.  

    I still find myself feeling very frustrated that we are so divided as a country that we hear different news, invest in different beliefs about what is real, and most of all, are given radically different "facts" that simply cannot be reconciled together.  Of course, where you stand on the spectrum determines which facts you believe and which you decide are lies.  And while I do think that there are always multiple ways of interpreting the same facts, there are things that actually happened and things that really didn't; there are truths about what is happening and there are lies.  And while my perspective tells me a certain group of news is lies, I know that others who disagree with me believe that what I am hearing is lies.  I believe more and more strongly that the role of our leaders is to tell the truth, to not make up stories that confuse, alienate, and divide us as a people, as a country.  But my strong belief in this will not affect leaders, will not change the fact that "truths" and "lies" have become a currency in our country that is more valuable to those buying and selling it than human relationships and human lives.  While I will do my part to promote honesty in reporting and in leadership, I am coming to the belief that it will take a conversion that only God can bring about to convince people, and perhaps to convince us as a nation, of the profound importance of truth-telling, and the huge individual responsibility in being careful about what you choose to accept as "facts".  

    In the meantime, I will continue to read, continue to learn, and continue to try to grow both in my own commitment to loving my neighbors, ALL my neighbors, as myself and in my commitment to working to understand even those who are so radically different from myself.

    Blessings and hope for a new year.

Becoming Christian

James 1:17-27

Mark 7:1-23

A High-School English teacher was well known for being a fair, but hard, grader.

One day Tim received a B minus on a theme paper. In hopes of bettering his grade and in the spirit of the valentine season, he sent her an extravagant heart-shaped box of chocolates with the pre-printed inscription: "Be Mine."  The following day, he received in return a valentine from the teacher. It read: "Thank you, but it's still Be Mine-Us."

Today I want to spend some time talking about education, and in particular Christian Education.  It is something we value for our kids, we value having for the kids at church, and we  value it being offered for the adults as well.  We value Christian Education as a way of growing closer to God in our faith, as a way of learning more deeply about our faith, why we believe what we do, where God has been in history and where God continues to be in our daily lives and in the lives of the community.  We value this kind of education, but I also think that we may see challenges that arise with it.  We may have questions or concerns: will our faith become more theoretical than spiritual if we study it?  Will our faith become more intellectual than emotional if we find ourselves arguing over points in Bible study or in other classes?  Will it lose its mystery, will it corrupt our unconditional faith?

Because Jesus calls us to love God with our whole beings, including our minds, we are called to study, to learn, to engage God with all of our being, including our intellect.  Additionally, James Fowler talks about stages of spiritual growth or spiritual development, and notes the importance of Education as a part of that spiritual development, part of growing and changing and moving in our faith.  Beth Liebert, who also studied spiritual development emphasizes that no matter where you are in your faith development, no matter what stage you are in, the goal is to be as close to God as you can be at that stage.  No matter what your outlook or educational level, the goal is to find new and deeper ways to relate and understand God and to be more fully and completely present with God.  But all of it, whether you are progressing through stages of spiritual development or trying to get closer to God in your present stage – both involve conscious time spent with God in activities such as prayer, Bible study, worship and Christian Education.

But Christian Education is more than just a way to engage God with your mind, it is more than an opportunity to grow deeper in faith and deeper in our understanding of God.  Christian Education is also a service opportunity for you.  What I mean is that the presence of each one of you in Christian Education classes is not just a gift to yourself of learning, and time with God.  It is also a chance to add to the learning of others, to help them deepen in their faith commitments and understandings of God.  We learn in this place not only from our “leaders” of various classes, but from each other.  We learn and grow by sharing with each other our perspectives, our differences, our thoughts and feelings and the depth of our faith. 

In a meeting with pastor colleagues, we found ourselves talking about different CE classes that we had been part of, usually in a leadership role, and universally the story of each pastor was that we, too, had grown through the classes that we taught because of the comments, the contributions and especially the questions that arose in those classes.  One pastor in particular told the story of being pushed on the question of repentance and what that really meant.  My pastor friend gave the usual pastoral answer that repentance means a changing of direction, a turning.  But he was pressed on this by class members and one in particular who said, “Well, what about when a person tries to change, genuinely wants to change, but finds themselves slipping, as we always do, back into old habits and routines, continuing to make mistakes, continuing to err, and to hurt others?”  My friend had to think about this, and he found that while he gave one answer at the time, that he believed that what God really cared most about was intention and effort, none the less, the question stuck with him.  And he found that this pushed him to spend time, more time during the week praying on this, meditating on this and yes, studying it.  And for the other members of my friends’ class as well, they found that the question itself led them, too, to reflect, but also to pray, more on the nature of sin, of repentance, of forgiveness.  This was so much the case that the following week the class ended up dumping the topic that was supposed to be covered to instead spend the time talking about what they had discovered through prayer, thought and study during the week on the topic of confession, repentance and forgiveness. 

For me personally, the lectionary group that I had in Cleveland – a group of 12 pastors that met every week to study scripture together, was an incredible time of profound learning for me.  I also found that it was a way of truly deepening my personal relationship with God (as well as with other people of faith!).  And what I learned did not ever just come from the person leading that week, but from all of us who were there each week.  When even one of us was absent, the conversation just simply was not as rich.  I miss that so very much, but found I could not replicate it in this place where schedules are so busy and tight. And that is really a sad commentary about what we value.  Our value as pastors, as “teaching elders,” should be on learning and teaching.  When we can no longer make time for the learning part… what does that say about our call and what we believe it to be, what it should be? 

Being in a class, we also can learn from ourselves.  This is more, I think, a surprise to all of us.  I want to read something to you that I wrote about my lectionary group in May of 2013.  It is very personal, it is very dear to me, but I want to share it with you because it talks about the power of being in an educational group and its ability to help us grow, even from our own thoughts, as we are given the opportunities to reflect on our lives and God’s presence and actions within them.

Gratitude for the struggles

I am part of a wonderful and amazing lectionary group - a group of 10 pastors who meet together weekly to study scripture, pray together, eat together, sometimes sing together and sometimes play together.  We are brother and sister Christians on the journey towards a deeper understanding of Christ, of God, of the Spirit and of love.  But we are also friends - people I know I can call on and count on in crisis, people I do call on and count on in crisis. We are a "house church" in the truest sense of the word, a community offering care that is not just theoretical but practical as well.  I am so deeply grateful for every single person in this group, deeply thankful for their care, their contributions to the community, their deep and abiding friendships, the gifts they give simply through their weekly presence.  Therefore, it is with a little trepidation that I say that I hope that I am not betraying confidences by reflecting a little in this public way on our group conversation this last Tuesday, which was one of those that has stuck to me, stuck with me, and continues to push on me to think, to pray, and to grow.

Our leader for the week (we all take turns leading the Bible study) as well as the other participants had much wisdom to offer on many different topics ranging from the Spirit (and our failure as Presbyterians to often give as much space and attention to this part of the trinity as we do to the other two persons), to the passage from Paul in Romans 5:1-5.  At one point in the conversation we were particularly discussing verses 3-5, "And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us."

I admit I had been very quiet that morning. This is a week of anniversaries - difficult, painful anniversaries and I am not unaffected by these.  I was even, I found, a little concerned that I might be bringing the group down with my sad energy.  But I found it more than a little interesting that the group was discussing how unhelpful it is when people tell each other that they are supposed to be grateful for their sufferings.  Comments like "everything happens for a reason" and "God never gives you more than you can handle" are not helpful. They minimize the pain we suffer, they discount our experiences in the moment.  Telling people they should be grateful for their suffering because it will produce endurance which produces character which produces hope is not, cannot be helpful.  I agree with all of this.  But then somehow it was either said or implied (or I heard it wrong, which is also possible) that people can't really be grateful for the deep traumas they endure.  And there I was, sitting in pain, sitting in grief, sitting in memories of a year ago when my children lost their father to prison, and my life radically changed as I became a single parent and sole provider for my family, for my household, a leader of a congregation without a partner to support me, sitting in memories of hurtful comments aimed my way by people who were themselves hurt by what my partner at the time had done, sitting in regrets for things that should have been or could have been done differently, sitting in loss - and from that place, from that place of pain I heard myself saying, "I am grateful for the suffering that I have endured."  Huh?  Did I just say that?  "I have deepened - in my person, in my faith, in my compassion and empathy, in my ability to understand and forgive, in my commitment to see what really is and what is not, mostly in my connection to God.  I have deepened and become more the person I want to be, the person God calls me to be, because of my struggles."  Silence.

"Okay," came the response, "but would you have said that two years ago?"

"No", I laughed.  And then, again to the surprise of myself more than anyone I added, "and yes."  Two years ago, or even two and a half years ago, there came a time when I thought I might actually crack, when I felt that maybe I was falling apart.  The world was nothing like I thought it was.  My marriage, my partner, my life, my ministry - nothing was what I thought it was.  And the things I prayed for were answered by "no" and "no" again.  Every morning I found myself just repeating the mantra, "Please, God.  Please, God!"  over and over and yet things were not getting better.  Every day brought more pain and new levels of hurt.  And yet...and yet, it was in the midst of that, in the midst of all of that, that I felt God's presence so incredibly strongly.  I felt God's arms holding me, carrying me, speaking to me of presence and love and care.  I connected with people whom I never would have connected with at such deep levels, I made friends (some for a reason, some for a season, and many for a life-time, including folk from that very group) quickly and deeply who were amazing and supportive and wonderful and who continue to shine God's light for me.  I learned who was real and true and caring (most of the people I knew and connected with, actually!) and who could not walk with me through the crisis, and I came to understand that those who could not walk with me - that too was not out of meanness, but out of their own situations and needs.  People shared with me their own sufferings at a much deeper level because they knew I would get it, and so it deepened my ministry as well.  And I developed a much, much deeper appreciation for the beauty around me in the midst of darkness.  I am much more grateful for the birds singing, the sun shining, the breeze blowing, for little gifts and kind words, open smiles and strong hugs, the presence of children in my life, play, dance, music.  I see blessings and feel blessed where I did not see them or know them or love them before.

Did I want any of this to happen?  Of course not.  In my wildest, deepest, most awful nightmares I never saw this coming and never could have imagined the pain and suffering that I would have experienced over the last two and a half years.  But it would be inaccurate to say that I am ungrateful for it.  Because God did bring gifts, God did bring life, God brought presence in a way I had never experienced before.  And while I am still a person who makes mistakes, big and little, who "sins", who hurts others,  I still see that I am becoming more fully the person God calls me to be because I have deepened through the suffering.  How could I not be grateful?

I would not say that I "boast" in my suffering.  I would not say that I "take pride" (different translation) in my problems.  But I would say that God was present through it all, that I am different because of it, that I am grateful for the struggles.  I pray the same for all of you.  I don't wish pain on you, but pain will come.  And so my prayer is that when it does, that you, too, would thrive through adversity, grow through the struggles, deepen and find gratitude in the midst of it all.

The point?  Putting ourselves in situations where learning is the goal not only teaches us through the words of others, but teaches us through our own reflections.  When we attend Christian education classes and Bible studies, we not only affect our own learning, but we add to the learning of others.  In addition, we have a greater opportunity of asking for what we need and want our Christian Education to be.  Still, very few adults in Churches do attend adult education opportunities.  And again, I find myself asking what that says about us as people of faith.

The passage that we read today from James told us, “you must be doers of the word and not only hearers who mislead themselves.  Those who hear but don’t do the word are like those who look at their faces in a mirror.  They look at themselves, walk away, and immediately forget what they were like….(others) don’t listen and then forget, but they put it into practice in their lives.  They will be blessed in whatever they do.”  Part of being Christian is growing in our faith.  We say we do that, but we are called not to just say it, but do it as well through worship, prayer and also through study.  We say that we love God with our whole hearts, souls and minds, but we are called not just to say it but to actually faithfully engage our faith with our minds as well as our hearts and souls.  What we are most in danger of forgetting when we look in the mirror is that we are beloved children of God.  That’s often what we forget.  That’s what we fail to see.  But again, study reminds us of this.  Time with God reminds us of this.  Engaging God weekly but more, daily, reminds us of this.

The dinner guests were sitting around the table discussing life. One man, a CEO, decided to explain the problem with education. He argued, "What's a kid going to learn from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher?" To stress his point he said to another guest; "You're a teacher, Bonnie. Be honest. What do you make?"

Bonnie, who had a reputation for honesty and frankness replied, "You want to know what I make? (She paused for a second, then began...)

"Well, I make students work harder than they ever thought they could. I make a C+ feel like the Congressional Medal of Honor winner.  I make kids sit through 40 minutes of class time when their parents can't make them sit for 5 without an I Pod, Game Cube or movie rental.

You want to know what I make? (She paused again and looked at each and every person at the table). I make kids wonder. I make them question. I make them apologize and mean it. I make them have respect and take responsibility for their actions.  I make them care about serving other people.  They use their God given brain, and they learn that their brain was made to love and grow in understanding of God and God’s creation. I make my classroom a place where all my students feel safe and respected. Finally, I make them understand that if they use the gifts God gave them, work hard, and follow their hearts, they can succeed in life…

(Bonnie paused one last time and then continued.)

Then, when people try to judge me by what I make, with me knowing money isn’t everything, I can hold my head up high and pay no attention because. …. You want to know what I make?  I MAKE A DIFFERENCE.”

We do this for each other every time we attend a Christian Education class.  We teach each other, we learn together, we make a difference for our own faith, but also for the faith of others.  We have an opportunity to be part of making a difference for each other each time we meet together in a Bible study or an adult education class. 

Lenten experiment with plastic

         For lent this year our family decided to give up plastic, especially one-use plastic since it has become such a huge problem for our oceans and our environment.  I made this decision because I kept wondering how the Lenten disciplines of doing something that increases only personal devotion really touches all of those we are called to love equally with ourselves.  I felt that we needed instead to do something good for the world, no matter how small.  While this was the impetus, as with almost everything we do for others, I have found that I have been the one to gain the most through the learning, alone, that has come from this Lenten experiment.
         We are only half way through lent at this point, and yet the challenge of trying to extricate ourselves from plastic use has been almost impossible.  What I have learned is that plastic is all around us, in almost everything.  As a result, this one simple choice to try to avoid plastic has in fact been the hardest spiritual discipline I've yet tried.
        Beginning with food:  We found that much of the prepackaged food we are used to eating was completely off the list for lent.  I'll separate this out by food groups:
        Carbohydrates: Cereal, while boxed in cardboard, always has a plastic lining between the carboard and the cereal itself.  The exception was oatmeal, but even that came with a plastic lid. Friends suggested the bulk bins.  Two problems for us: the first was that the bags by the bulk bins were, again, plastic. We could bring in our own paper bags, though this was not appreciated by the grocery check out people.  The second was that the cereal selection was mostly limited to granola or mussily, neither of which are appealing to my kids.  Crackers, likewise, all came with plastic somewhere in the packaging.  The one exception we found to this was Goldfish crackers, which have become a bit of a staple for the kids during this time.  Pasta often is also packaged in cardboard: but almost all of it comes with a little plastic window so that you can see the pasta inside.  Breads and bagels - all sliced bread and prepackaged bagels came in plastic.  But we soon found that we were able to buy freshly baked bagels and breads directly from the bakery and put it in our own bags or in paper bags.
        Proteins:  This was, in many ways, even harder.  We are a dairy family.  We love our milk, our yogurt, our cheeses.  We could buy smaller containers of milk in cardboard (half gallon, when we usually buy full gallons of milk: about 5 a week!), but the only brand that did not have a plastic top was Clover, which is very expensive.  We looked for glass milk bottles and did find some in a health food store, and yet even those bottles had plastic lids.  Yogurt and cheese?  Nope.  Out for lent.  I simply could find no yogurt or cheese that was not packaged in plastic.  Some of our family are meat eaters.  We found we could go to the meat counter and ask for meat to be cut and prepared and wrapped in paper.  But we could not simply buy chicken or fish or any other kind of meat in any other way.  All of the prepackaged meat was wrapped in plastic.
        Fruit and Veggies: this was by far the easiest.  We have our own bags that we bring in for fruit and vegetables.  However, there were still limitations.  Cherry tomatoes were out.  So were berries.  Also, while I understand that Trader Joe's has now made a commitment to lessening plastic packaging, so far our local Trader Joe's has not made those changes.  So we can't shop there for our produce during lent.
        Other products were equally challenging.  My cats are extremely picky, I realize, but finding dry cat food that did not come in plastic that my cats would actually eat was a complete fail.  Likewise, we've been trying to get away from some of the cat litters that have so much dust and tracking problems.  But the alternatives all came in plastic.
       When it comes to bathroom and cleaning products, the challenges were even greater.  Toilet paper, shampoo, conditioner, soap dispensers for laundry, dish, hands and body, feminine hygiene products, toothpaste, deodorant:  all of it comes in plastic.  With some serious research, I was able to find products I could order on-line for most of these things.  There is a company that makes toilet paper out of bamboo (grows faster and is therefore more renewable) that also wraps the paper in bamboo packaging.  I also found a company that makes shampoo, conditioner and deodorant that comes in a bar form and therefore can be packaged in cardboard.  I am trying that out and will let you know how that goes.  There are also alternatives to laundry soap and dish soap.  Many companies advertise that they are "better" in terms of their plastic use but in fact they aren't.  One, for example, states that it produces less plastic waste by sending you a glass bottle and then liquid soap to fill the bottle in plastic bags.  Those plastic bags are still plastic, so I'm not sure who they think they are fooling.  All of this required research and ordering from companies that don't sell their products in local stores.  The toothpaste alternatives, as well as most household cleaning alternatives mostly seem to involve making your own products. Cleaners are mostly baking soda and vinegar.  There are tooth powders, yet, interestingly, almost all still came in plastic, which made me question the point.  Also the textures of these alternatives (and the concern over a lack of fluoride in the toothpaste) were really distasteful.  Still, it challenged me to think about how far I was willing to go with this, even just for lent.
         Other things were just not an option.  I could not find batteries, for example, without plastic packaging.  While there are alternatives to toothbrushes and hair brushes, on most the bristles still appear to be plastic, even when the backs are bamboo or wood.  Razors are mostly plastic, or have plastic components.. they all come packaged in plastic.  Antibacterial cream comes in plastic.  While you can buy spices in glass, they all seem to have a plastic top under the metal lid.  My children are no longer packing their lunches into plastic bags, but the alternatives we've been using are the Tupperware (plastic) in our cupboards.  Better, but still plastic. One more helpful site: here.
        Mostly, the experiment is requiring a change of lifestyle.  For example, when we had my daughter's birthday party, we needed to use real plates because all paper products are packaged in plastic. This might be a no-brainer, except it meant spending a good part of the party washing already used dishes so that there would be enough for the next "course" of whatever the kids were eating.   I've found it necessary to carry in my purse my own mug and my own metal straw (not that straws are ever really necessary) so that when I eat out with friends or even attend meetings at other churches, I can still drink without using a plastic cup.  I went to a day long conference and needed to think through food ahead of time because I knew they'd be bringing in food mostly in plastic containers, with plastic utensils.  For that day, a set of utensils also went into my purse.  Web-sites that encourage limiting plastic use say we should bring our own containers to restaurants for left-overs.  At that point, my purse was just too big to carry!
      As I said, we are only half way through lent.  I will continue to explore alternatives and let you know at the end of the best products we find.  It's been a good challenge for all of us to really look at our plastic use.  Not easy, but good.  The challenge of picking something for lent that actually serves something bigger than ourselves has been great.  I hope that next year we can come up with something equally challenging, eye-opening, and hopefully even more helpful to the earth.

Those charming, charismatic kids - or Lessons from Jane Austen, Part II

       In all but one of Jane Austen's books there is a character who is absolutely charming but who turns out to be a scoundrel and the ultimate villain in her books.  In Pride and Prejudice it is Wickam.  In Sense and Sensibility it is Willoughby.  In Persuasion it is Mr. Elliott.  In Emma it is Frank Churchill.  In Mansfield Park it is Henry Crawford.  In Northanger Abbey it is Captain Tilney.  All of them have similarities.  They are charming. They are charismatic. They are entertaining. They are romantic. They are popular. They have skills and resources in abundance.  Some are good looking, some are rich.  But whatever else they have, their primary quality is that because of their charm, their charisma, they are easily admired by everyone around them. And because of all of that, they are used to getting what they want. People bend over backwards to be with them. Even smart, intelligent characters are fooled by them and would do anything for them.  But they have one other thing in common as well.  They have no morals, no compass, no true empathy for others, and they use and abuse others cruelly to get what they want without remorse or regret. They charm their way through anything and everything and still come out smelling like roses, even after they have devastated the lives of those around them. They smile, they nod their heads, and they move on to charm and then devastate other people. No matter who they have hurt or in what way, they still come off well, still end surrounded by people who admire them and want to be with them, still can get whatever they want through their charm and charisma. The conflict in many of these stories comes at the point at which someone says "no" to them.  Because they never hear "no", they deal with it poorly, usually by seeking revenge on the one who has seen through them.  Their revenge has the potential in each of these stories to ruin the main characters of the books.  My sense is that the only reason it doesn't is that these are stories, stories with the intention of happy endings.
       As I said in my last Jane Austen blog post, Jane Austen's gift is that she is able to capture accurately so much about human nature, and this is no exception.  Unfortunately, these charming, charismatic, delightful scoundrels are real. They charm and then use and abuse. They devastate lives, but do it with a smile and an "explanation" that is nothing but lies, but is also so seductive and inviting that most people are fooled and continue to want to be around them and give them whatever they want no matter what kind of damage they have done to others. They seek revenge when they hear "no" and do so with such charm and finesse that only the wisest see them for what they are, and those who are hurt by them often suffer multiple injuries since their version will never be believed when the charmer puts forward his own story. As Lizzie said in Pride and Prejudice, "And if I endeavour to undeceive people as to ... his conduct, who will believe me?"  Lizzie was respected and well liked, but she did not have the charismatic charm of Wickam.  She knew, then, that people would only really see him for who he was when he injured them directly.  And in the mean time, his previously cruel and vengeful behavior would have to go untold.
       I found myself reflecting on all of this this last week in regards to several different situations.  I have a friend who works with very young children.  She was sharing with me that one of the girls she works with has already begun this behavior.  She is cruel to the other children, but so charming when she chooses to be that everyone wants to be her friend.  She fools her parents and other adults, but when she believes she is not being watched, she says unspeakable things to the other children, and seeks revenge on any child who does not give her what she wants, primarily by socially alienating them. Through her charisma and charm she has the personal power to do that successfully and she uses it to bully, control and devastate children who have dared to exercise their own personal power, have dared to say "no" or have dared to do anything other than what this one girl wants in that moment. My friend has tried to encourage the other children to choose different children to play with. But this little girl has an amazing gravitational force that the other children simply don't know how to step away from to choose something different. Even in her best moments she is insensitive, unaware of the other kids' feelings, and hurtful as a result. As I listened to her story, I thought that since the parents and most other adults don't see it and aren't willing to try to correct it (my friend being the exception), this is a child who will continue to act this way, will have no reason to develop empathy for others and will no doubt become like one of the villains in a Jane Austen novel - charming and devastatingly cruel.
       Similarly, my youngest two children were talking about kids at their schools who behave like this.  By late elementary and junior high these behaviors have been honed in those who learn them. They are better about "sneaking" their cruel behavior while charming the adults or others with power who could challenge it or protect the other children hurt by it.  They form "cliques" of the popular kids who have that same gravitational force that draws others to want to be with them, want to be near them, even when they exclude, are unkind, or sometimes are truly cruel.
        I wish that this behavior were outgrown.  And I think that for some it is.  By college, I think most people do have some kind of empathy and conscience that kicks in.  But unfortunately it just doesn't for everyone.  If you were never forced to develop empathy as a kid, it may not be possible to develop it as an adult. Narcissistic personalities tend to be charming and without empathy. Psychopaths go a step further. They, too, are usually extremely charming and often viewed as very trustworthy, though they are incapable of truly empathizing with others (they are very capable of pretending empathy), and so their behavior is often cruel, especially when it serves their own purposes (see http://psychcentral.com/blog/archives/2015/02/12/differences-between-a-psychopath-vs-sociopath/), but again, often in a "hidden" way so that it does not become apparent to other people and they never have to experience the consequences of their cruelty. We still know adults acting in this way, we still find people using their charm to be cruel.
      As I've listened to the news over the last year, I have been struck by how many of these people have made it, through that charisma and charm, but without any empathy or morality, into very successful public lives: Several politicians in response to the massacres in Oregon and in Orlando saying, "stuff happens" (clearly incapable of empathy), that shop owner who rejoiced over the shooting in San Bernadino because as she said it, "killings always result in more gun sales!" (again, no empathy), other prominent figures, with their complete inability or desire to understand people who are different from themselves, different backgrounds, different classes, different cultures who are seen as disposable and whose deaths are not counted. Why do people listen to them?  Because they are seductive, they have a certain "charm". We hear about charismatic pastors on a regular basis who abuse that power with children or with their congregants. They are so loved by their congregations that even when they do truly unspeakable stuff, the charismatic leaders are usually defended and often fail to be held accountable.  I am certain that there are many who never get caught at all for the same reason.  "Who would believe it?" I hear Lizzie say once more. Rather than be victimized again by telling their story to people who would rather believe the charming, charismatic leader, many victims choose to remain silent.
      The point?  I guess the point is that we have to look deeper, always.  And that being seduced by charming, charismatic folk because it feels good to be around them rather than really looking at their behavior or their words for substance or lack there of leads to pain, if not for ourselves, then undoubtedly for others. That listening to those who aren't as charming or charismatic for their take on a story is more than important: it is vital.  That charm can be dangerous and seductive and one should be careful about trusting it: those who have it are used to getting their way and often have not learned how to handle disappointment with grace, nor to be sympathetic to other people's needs or experiences. And finally, that if you do find yourself the victim of one of these charming charismatic people, know that you aren't alone. That your seduction by their charm was a normal, natural, human reaction. Hopefully we learn from those painful lessons to look deeper the next time. And we can pray and work so that others aren't hurt in the same way. Perhaps the first step is simply to name it for what it is.

Understanding, Learning and Growing through Touch

So, for those of you who read the notes I had on this, I again apologize for the confusion.  But here is the "real" article, rather than just my scatty notes:
       
        On our vacation this summer, we did most of the usual Northern CA touristy things.  I wanted to re-introduce children who had been too little to remember the area when we left to those things that had been enjoyable and educational to me about growing up in the Bay Area (and that we hadn't already done, like Muir Woods and Golden Gate Park, etc.).  We went to the Monterey Bay Aquarium (though I have to admit, we have been there many times), Carmel's beach and art galleries, to Hearst Castle and the Marin Marine Mammal Center, to the Bay Model and Marin Headlands, to Columbia, Moaning Caverns and Half Moon Bay, Filoli Gardens, Black Diamond Mines, Meekham Arboretum and even the Oakland Zoo. We went to the Drive in Movie theater and the It's It factory, we took the train up to Old Sacramento and went to the Train Museum.  We took the Ferry from Vallejo to Pier 39 and Fisherman's Wharf. Some of us went to Santa Cruz. We hiked down from Mt. Diablo on a long night hike and we spent two days hiking around Yosemite, up the falls, around Glacier Point, etc.  We heard a talk in Yosemite by Mountain Climber Ron Kauk and spent time afterwards talking with him about Restorative Justice.  We were active, busy, learning, seeing, experiencing.  
       Everywhere we went I was struck again and again by the reality and realization that those things that were touched, not just seen or heard, but touched and experienced physically - those were the things that had the most impact on us.  The things I held or experienced (hiking, breathing in the trees' scent, feeling the waterfalls spray on my arms and face), those are the things that will remain with me.  The things I just saw or heard?  Not so much.
       In education we talk a lot about those who are visual learners vs. those who are audio learners.  I remember taking a test in one of the education classes at seminary on which kind of learner I was.  Interestingly, while they said that most people are visual learners, and a few less are audio learners, they also acknowledged that there is a small group of people that are something else.  I was part of that "something else" and came up as a "kinetic" learner.  It's true, I am.  I learn by doing, by being in a place, by moving and acting.  
       As we walked around all of these special places, I was struck by how much all people, and especially children, actually learn more through touch.  In every Museum we went to, and every outdoor place and every garden and every...well, every place we went, the young children especially were trying to climb and touch and handle and learn through their hands and bodies.  They yearned to explore, to feel, to hold, to climb on and around everything we saw.  
       What was equally true, though, was that as much as all of them wanted to touch and explore and experience, the universal mantra and the signs on everything instead yelled at these young people constantly, "Do Not touch!"  "Do Not climb!"  "Do Not Pick Up!"  And as I watched the kids with more rule-abiding parents work hard to restrain their kids and keep them from doing what was natural, learning through touch; and as I watched the kids whose parents were paying less attention take off and climb and touch and handle all those forbidden things with wonder and joy and curiosity, I found myself deeply troubled.  Do we take away from our kids their best methods of learning, of living, and being part of this world?  Do we, like we used to do by forbidding left-handers to use their left hands, harm our children by denying them the natural ways of growing that they, by instinct, thrive on?  Is the reason most of us are labeled "visual" learners simply because we've been so denied our natural and deeply primary way of learning that we have, in fact, abandoned it in many cases?  
       Touch is so incredibly meaningful in all of our lives.  Our family watched Temple Grandin last night.  And again, I found myself reflecting on the importance of touch.  As a person with autism, Temple did not like people to touch her, but she did want to be "hugged" by something cocoonish that she made.  Touch remained incredibly important. Avoiding it may have been avoiding a kind of intimacy with that which she could not understand that therefore felt threatening.  But touch also calmed her, when done correctly.  My eldest child reacted to the traumas in her life by putting up a physical barrier.  She allows me to hug her and even invites it from me, but she has put up a wall against all others, a physical way of refusing to connect with other people.  In contrast, my younger two climb all over each other and me and the world every opportunity they have. However, my son, with his sensory integration disorder, has to choose any touch that he experiences.  If someone approaches him and touches him without him seeing it coming, it hurts him.  For myself, when my world flipped upside down I found that the person who had done the flipping became "untouchable" for me - that a touch from him felt (feels) like a burn. The harm I had experienced became embodied in this physical reaction.  In contrast, there have been times when I have been held that it literally felt that the holding was melting away all the pain in the world. The healing that can be done by touch is real.  
        Touch has the ability to heal, it has the ability to hurt, it has the ability to teach and it has the ability to harm.  It reflects our feelings, our fears, our intimacies and our needs.  To deny its importance is to deny something central to our humanity.  
         So I find myself returning to the place I started. Some of our cultural centers, especially children's museums and science centers, are coming to understand more fully the importance of touch and are allowing places where kids can interact with what they see.  But I think we are too slow in this movement, and still too cautious about touch.  To touch is to understand, to know, to experience, to connect with.  
         As I reflect back on our vacation, I will especially remember those things that involved all of my senses as well as my breath and my movements.  I deeply value the hikes where rocks were touched, birds heard, trees and places smelled, beauty seen and body challenged.  I am grateful for the long and strenuous hikes, climbs and descents.  I am grateful for the hands I shook, the humans I touched and with whom I was able to connect. I am grateful for the opportunities my kids had to do the same.  And I pray we can continue to move forward in our honoring of touch as a way to understand and to connect, not only to one another, but to all our world.  

"Getting" What We've Done or Lessons from Jane Austen Part I

My favorite book and movie of all time is Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice.  It is a good soothing movie for me, a break from the realities of the real world, and funny to boot.  So after a really long, full week, if I really need a break from everything, the A&E 5 hour version of Pride and Prejudice gets put into the DVD player for an afternoon of pure laziness and recuperation. A wonderful way to relax. Still, there is one part of it that always irritates me.  Pride and Prejudice was published in 1813 when puritan values still presided. Lydia, the youngest of the Bennett sisters in the story, ran off with the horrible, though handsome and charming Mr. Wickam.  She believed he wanted to marry her, which he didn't.  And so, in order to avoid throwing her entire family into disgrace (which is why giving you the period of time in which this was written is important), this horrible man with whom she had been living is "bought". In other words, he was paid substantial money to marry her because what she had done, living with a man to whom she is not married, would have left her a disgraced woman, banished from all good society as well as casting disrepute on her entire family, making marriage for her sisters all but impossible, leaving the entire family in a state of ridicule and shame. I'm not interested in arguing the various pros and cons of the morals of that time; in the story world, this makes sense for the time in which it was written.

But what drives me crazy is that Lydia NEVER GETS IT.  She has no comprehension for the scandal she put her family through.  She comes home married to this terrible man, and rather than expressing gratitude, apology or humility in the face of her actions, she is simply proud, boastful and even self-righteously snobby towards her now "lesser" unmarried sisters. She has no idea, none at all, of the stress and humiliation, of the shame and fear which she put her family through. She does not know how close she came to ending up a street woman, with no husband, ever, for the rest of her life (and again, in those days, that would have been doom for her).  She can't comprehend how close she came to ruining the dreams and hopes of all her family. She is not grateful for their sacrifices and has no comprehension of what they are. It bugs me no end that she does not begin to understand how she has hurt others, that she never apologizes because she has no sense of what she has done, that instead of a healthy dose of self-reflection and humility, she is proud and feels superior to her sisters. They allow her this ridiculous attitude, never bothering to point out to her her faults, never challenging the horrible behavior because they know she would never get it anyway.  There are never any consequence for the damage she did. And I have to admit, for all my talk about forgiveness, letting go, not needing revenge or seeking vengeance, this bothers me.   Her story book sisters forgive her, but I struggle to do the same.  Everyone goes on to live wonderful happy lives, but I remain irritated that she never gets it. I want justice, in the sense that I at least want her to feel some remorse, some humility around what she has done. And the fact that she is incapable of those feelings threatens my sense of what is just.

One of the gifts of Jane Austen is that she captures human behaviors, attitudes, and feelings well. There are people just like Lydia who never can "get" it.  I don't ever want to be one of those people, though I'm certain I, too, have blind spots at times. We all do.  It is easier for most of us to recognize those faults in others. I encounter, as we all do, those who tend to be the most privileged folk, those whose lives are comfortable and who cannot see or appreciate the sacrifices others have made so that they might have the comfortable lives they claim. There appears to be very little justice where they are concerned. They get where they are by stepping on the backs of others without realizing the hurt, harm and damage they cause. They won't, or can't, look at how they've injured others. That's just part of the life we live here. Life isn't fair.

But eventually we have to let go of our need for other people to be brought to justice or we will be consumed by our own anger, frustration, need for vengeance and living in the past. We have to choose instead to strive for peace and good and justice in all we do, this day and every day, regardless of the past. We have to let go of our judgments and condemnations of others, and begin to be more self-reflective on what we have done that we might not want to look at, how we can change so that we hurt others less, and what we can do differently that will make life better for everyone we encounter. And, like Lydia's family, we can keep working towards the highest good for the other, even when they refuse to get it, even when their actions cause us to suffer, even when they are unaware of it. We can choose to act with love, peace and integrity since we are called to do nothing less.  And, as hard as it is, we can strive to leave the justice of it up to God.  After all, as Romans 12:19 says it, "Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God's wrath, for it is written: 'It is mine to avenge."  I don't tend to see or believe that God is wrathful.  Rather, I think God really understands us at our deepest level and has compassion, even for the dumb mistakes we make.  But at the point where the injustices of life simply feel too much, perhaps we can let go of them for a time, remembering it isn't ours to "fix" anyway.  Not easy.  But necessary for our own peace of mind, for our own growth.  When we are focused on others, there is no room to look at ourselves.  The opposite is also true.  When we focus on growing ourselves, we usually have a whole lot less time or space inside to judge others.  We are called through our faith, not to judge or try to "fix" others while helping ourselves, but instead to work to fix ourselves while helping others. It's a whole lot harder.  But it will also lead us more fully into wholeness, a wholeness that I believe to be contagious for those with open hearts and open eyes.

Life as a part of a bigger journey.

      When I can step back and really see this life as a trip, as a small step in a larger path, when I can see each mistake as a lesson rather than something that has “changed my life irreparably”, and each moment as an experience rather than a decision that determines the course of my existence irreversibly; then I can relax more about the past, I am more accepting of the present, and I am less anxious about the future.  I can be philosophical about life.  When life is something to be experienced, rather than something to "get right", when I can take this moment and all moments without the seriousness of feeling each thing I do will be somehow unalterable, I can be more comfortable with making “errors”.  I can also be easier on my kids, because I can see their "errors" too as just experiences, opportunities to learn and grow on a path that is slightly different from what it might have been had they chosen differently, but still a worth while path (perhaps even more so), full of it's own adventures, challenges and discoveries.  It is their own journey to make, whatever that may look like, rather than a contest or a struggle against the forces of life with some who win and some who lose and a lot of people who get lost in the middle.  
       Paramahansa Yogandanda said, "Do not take life's experiences too seriously.  Above all, do not let them hurt you for in reality they are nothing but dream experiences.  If circumstances are bad and you have to bear them, do not make them a part of yourself.  Play your part in life but never forget that it is only a role."
       This is really hard to do.  It is really hard to not take life seriously in every moment.  But the result of taking life so seriously is regrets and anxiety and this constant feeling that we are somehow on the wrong path, we have made choices that have put us on the wrong road, we've taken turns and made mistakes that can't be undone.  Again, the other choice is to see it all as experiences.  In that case every mistake really is just a lesson to be learned; a sea of pebbles each to be picked and held for a time rather than a series of roads, only one of which is right and only one of which will lead each of us to "win" this game called life. 
       I think there are a lot of reasons why we get stuck in the "too serious" win/lose game mentality of life.  For one thing, those on the top would promote that vision, with them as the "winners" and the rest of us as losers.  It benefits them to see everything they have done (or that has been done for them) as worth the win that they claim to have done better than others. It helps them feel superior and on top at some level, and that's a nice feeling to have.
       But this other vision of life, as one of experiences and lessons and a sea of pebbles rather than a series of one-way roads allows us to see that every life is valuable, every life is a "win" of experiences, though some may be more joyful experiences and others may be hard.  It also allows for the option of picking a new pebble each day, and of not being "stuck" on the path one has chosen intentionally or through "mistakes".  I think it opens up the possibility of a life creatively lived, as we see more than just the options of staying on the path we are currently on, but instead see options for walking a different way, a unique way, one that leads to pebbles far on the other shore from the experiences we have come to know.
       I saw this posted as I was writing this essay:

       When we are able to see life as a series of experiences and lessons, we are more able to take risks.  For some those risks might include choosing a different career path, going back to school, moving across the country, getting to know someone different, forming new connections.  For me, they also include risking caring "too much", being too kind, offering compassion more often.  I can risk being hurt by others because that, too, is just another experience.  I can risk offering care and resources to others because that, too, is just another experience.  It is a chance to interact with others who have picked up different pebbles and to see what their experiences have been, what the pebbles they have chosen have given them, what a different journey might look like. 
      My goal for today is to breath into each moment as its own, to choose each moment for the experience it has to share, and to live each moment without regret or anxiety about the next.  My hope is that you, too, can find peace in each moment for its own sake.

The writer, the preacher, the person

I've been deeply graced lately by affirmations about my writing and about my preaching that have been soothing balm to this soul who struggles at times. I am so grateful to you who have made those comments, so I want to start just with a simple thank you.  I am grateful that you appreciate what I write, what I preach.  I am grateful when you tell me it caused you to think, or that you felt better having read something I wrote.  I am honored when you share what I've written.  Your words are true gifts to me.  Thank you.

But interestingly, I found myself thinking today about the actors who feel they are loved for their "personna's" and not for who they really are.  Don't get me wrong.  I know that I am genuinely loved by truly amazing and wonderful friends and family.  But I am all too aware that I write from the place of the person I wish to be.  Maybe that sounds odd.  But it is true.  I write from the place of the person I am working to become, hoping to become, wanting to become. That isn't to say that I don't write other things, too.  But I tend to not "publish" the writings that show my most insecure, broken or needy self on my blog.  And I have found that the best sermons I write are the ones that I write to myself. What I mean is, when I am noticing or working on something within me that I know needs to be changed or confronted or improved, I preach about that. I am a person "on the way" as I say in my profile on this page. And that means I get it wrong more often than I'd like, I make mistakes more often than I'd ever want, and I have way too many regrets. Again, as I have often said in my blog, I realize at some level that this is not what we are called to do or be.  We are called to live in forgiveness and grace, not regrets and insecurities.  But I'm deeply human.  Much more than I would like to be, or like to admit.

Anne Lemott says that people heal through their writing.  I think there is deep truth in that.  I work through my stuff often through writing.  It means that only a little of what I write is fit for others to read.  I am jealous of my friend James who manages to publish something on his blog daily that is filled with compassion and grace (see side bar for his blog).  Still, I remain grateful when what you read from me is meaningful to you.

This is one of those occasions when I'm not even sure the point of this particular blog post. Just wanting to own that I'm much more "broken" than I appear here.  And wanting to say thank you for the kind words.  Bless you, dear readers.  You help ease my journey in so many ways!

The gift of my friend

Another hard day.  House closing has been delayed, and delayed, and delayed - until today.  But it won't happen, again.  Seller is done with this, which is understandable.  Which means that schooling for kids is still tenuous.  And it means still not having our stuff, and still having our poor kitties in a kennel.  And it means still sleeping in other people's houses, trying to be careful with other people's things.  And it means still feeling displaced, homeless, and unsettled, to say the least.  This has gone on for a month and a half.  That's a long time to be "homeless" and it is hard.  The house in Ohio is not selling, which is part of why our lender doesn't want to loan us money for a house out here. And there is not one thing I can do about that. I've put it to the universe.  I've put it out to God (though I don't think God micro-manages house sales).  But otherwise, there is nothing that can be done.  I put a ton of money into fixing it up, did a lot of work on it myself. But now I am in CA and there is simply no more to be done.

It is hard on the kids who don't know if they are coming or going, don't know when they will have their stuff or access to their cats (who are NOT doing well in the kennel), don't know where they will be attending school this next week or next month.

I continue to try to take everything a day at a time.  I continue to try to look for the things to be grateful for in each moment.  I continue to try to focus more on my work and caring for my kids than on the lack of housing or even the future and what it might, or might not, hold.  But there are too many moments lately when I just want to rail at God, "Where ARE you?  What is it that I'm supposed to be learning here?  I know 'this too shall pass' but the last 4 1/2 years have been HARD and frankly, I'm ready for something different. My KIDS are ready for something different!  Do you really want these experiences to define who they are and how they relate to the world?  Where ARE you?!"

And then...

Today, in the middle of a good long cry, I got a call from a very dear friend who I don't talk to but once every few months.  He is someone I respect and value so deeply for who he is, and what he gives to the world and all those he encounters on a daily basis.  I value him for all he has given to me, personally, over the years - the wisdom, the centering, a model for how to be in the world (he is a fighter who has stood up to injustice in concrete and impressive ways), and his constant, unwavering friendship.  He lives in New Mexico, so our contact over the last 23 years has pretty much been restricted to these occasional phone calls.  Still, I have found that his timing is consistently uncanny. He seems to always call exactly when I need to hear from him.  Today was such a day.  Before I could even launch into all of my woes and struggles, he told me he'd been reading my blog and was really impressed by my ability to hold on to gratitude and reflection in difficult times.  He said he felt I'd grown in my ability to be compassionate as well and he saw me continuing to mature and truly deepen through the struggles I'd been through.  He said I modeled all of that for him.  Huh.

My first response was to feel shame.  I wasn't feeling gratitude or compassion in the moment he had called me.  I'd just been feeling sorry for myself, frustrated with the world, "picked on" by the universe.  I wasn't acting particularly mature, I was crying in my office at work.  I wasn't feeling strong or deep, I was feeling like a 5 year old kid who just wanted to be held and told that it would all be okay.

But he is not a "shaming" person.  It wasn't his intention for me to feel that way.  And so that feeling passed pretty quickly and I was left instead with the reminder that what I feel in the moment is not the totality of my being.  What we all feel in this moment is not all of who we are.  What we are experiencing in this moment - not only will it pass, but even in this moment it is not all of who we are.  It is a glimpse, it is a moment, it is a breath in a life time of breaths and moments and glimpses, all of which make up who we are, and who we will become.  Even when we don't feel God's strong loving arms surrounding us, that too is a moment, a glimpse, a breath in which we are not letting go and relaxing into the love that holds us through it all, even when it does not feel like it does.

God was there for me today...in my friend, John.  Thank you, John, for being that face of God for me today when I needed it.  Thank you for reminding me that I am more than I feel I am in those hard moments.  Thank you for showing me that love is still there even when I feel alone.  Thank you - for being one of the angels in my life each day, and especially today.

The Other Side of Forgiveness - Some questions about Being Forgiven

     Matthew 5:23-24:  “Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to them; then come and offer your gift."  But what if your brother or sister is not open to reconciliation?

Matthew 1815-  : “If your brother or sister sins, go and point out their fault, just between the two of you. If they listen to you, you have won them over.  But if they will not listen, take one or two others along, so that ‘every matter may be established by the testimony of two or three witnesses.’ If they still refuse to listen, tell it to the church; and if they refuse to listen even to the church, treat them as you would a pagan or a tax collector.Truly I tell you, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.  But again, what if the other person will not listen and instead responds with anger or vengeance?

1 Corinthians 11:27-28   So then, whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty of sinning against the body and blood of the Lord.  Everyone ought to examine themselves before they eat of the bread and drink from the cup.  For those who eat and drink without discerning the body of Christ eat and drink judgment on themselves.  So, if we have said we are sorry, asked for forgiveness, but it is not granted to us (ie, again, there is no reconciliation), should we refrain from taking communion?  Common wisdom says that when we cannot forgive others, we should refrain from taking communion...using a fast from communion to empower us to focus our hearts instead on forgiveness, what that means, how to do it, asking God's help to let go and see the other with compassion rather than anger or hatred.  But what if we have forgiven, but are not forgiven in return? Not everyone is willing to reconcile, even people who consider themselves Christians.

John 20:23   If you forgive anyone's sins, their sins are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven.  So again, if another person of faith declares you to be unforgivable, does this mean you actually are?

Next blog post I may give some of my answers to these questions...but I would really like to hear your thoughts in the mean time.

Valuing Life - ALL life

       I took my shower yesterday morning with a fly.  Yes, I know that sounds disgusting.  It wasn't intentional.  But about half way through my shower, I noticed a fly on the shower door, let in, undoubtedly, by all of the in-outs of the house the day before.  I noticed the fly and my first impulse was to kill it somehow - with water or the shampoo bottle, or something.  But it didn't move, it didn't try to get away and that stopped me.  Was the fly a bad thing?  It was ugly.  If it had been flying around it would have been annoying.  Flies are dirty and they can carry germs.  But this one wasn't near my food or anything that it could potentially harm.  It wasn't hurting me.  So why did I want to kill it?
       We are generally very callous about life - especially other kinds of life besides human.  But just because we don't understand another life form, just because it doesn't "think" in the way that we do, or "feel" in the way that we do, does that really mean that its life is less sacred?  Or un-sacred?  And that it doesn't have the same rights to be on this planet and to live its journey in whatever way it can without my playing god and deciding when its life should end?  Buddhists especially believe that all of life is sacred and that killing any life is a sin.  I get that.  And looking at this delicate, tiny creature, I found I could not do it damage.
       So instead of killing the fly yesterday morning, I chose to watch it, see what I could learn from it, let it live out its final days or hours without my interference (since my guess was that it was dying which is why it hadn't moved despite my looming threat).  These are a few of the things I learned yesterday from this guru fly:
       1.  Sometimes just resting and being is enough.  We don't have to always be flying around like chickens with our heads cut off in order to actually live.
       2.  Sometimes there is joy is just flying around, letting the air take you where it will, without a purpose in mind.
       3.  Sometimes even genuine and real threats to our existence can change heart and become...well, less predatory, if we take the time and don't react right away to the threat (because if the fly had tried to run away, I'm sure I would have tried to kill it).
       4.  Life, God, the Sacred is in the little things.
       5. Taking a moment to be with what is right in front of you, focusing on that which presents itself in each moment and not worrying about what will come in the next allows us to fully live with whatever time we have left to us.
       Those were some of my "fly" insights from yesterday.
       This morning I woke up to a glass door covered with flies.  So here are a couple more lessons:
       1.  That which looks harmless and even beneficent sometimes just plain isn't.
       2.  Sometimes the postponing of one act, or the failure to act, can lead to serious consequences and a lot more work for us than if we had just done what needed to be done in the first place! (ie, if I'd gotten rid of the fly maybe it would not have had babies in my house, and I would not have had to spend a good part of today vacuuming up many, many flies who have all lost their lives to my raging cleaning frenzie!)
       Not that I don't still see all life as sacred.  Which leads to two final lessons learned:
       1.  Sometimes the most obvious options we see in a situation are really not the only options there are.
       2.  Sometimes the easiest options are just simply not the best.  To honor its life, while still not subjecting the family to the "plague of flies" I could have put it outside.  Or captured it in a jar for further observation: made it into a science experiment for the kids.
       The point is, that while it may be easier to simply not think about how we affect the rest of the planet, be it other people, bugs, trees, the air, the planet, that this does not in the end benefit anyone.  And it does not honor that life is a gift given to everything that has it - a sacred thing - something we should not treat lightly or thoughtlessly, no matter how small.  God is in all of it.  And to honor God, we must honor the God within all life.