The road less traveled

The children were nestled all snug in their beds...

2011-01-02T20:38:00.004-06:00

...had just settled down for a long winter's nap. And that's exactly what I did.

The weeks from Thanksgiving till Christmas was a whirlwind. It seems to be the norm for this time of year. But this year seemed busier than normal. One thing and then another everyday for 4 weeks. Our Christmas this year consisted of almost 800 miles of driving in 4 days, 4 different gift exchanges, 3 different "beds" (ie...sofas and blow-up mattresses) and way too much food. We finally got home about 10:00pm on the 26th. That night I slept almost 10 hours! I didn't leave the house for the next 4 days. I never really wore anything but my pajamas, but I did brush my teeth everyday. It was blissful. I watched TV and movies, started a new book, napped and...I don't know what else. Not much.

I work in real estate, and therefore on commission. If I'm not working, I'm not making money. So, it's always hard for me to really stay away from work. Even apart from my job, "doing nothing" makes me feel terribly guilty. There is always house work to do, or Ordination homework, or something productive. Somehow last week, my body and mind's need for rest finally trumped my guilt. I loved every minute. Oddly, by Friday I felt incredibly energetic. My mind seems clear. I'm ready to go back to work. Just in time, too, my house needs it!

At forty-somethng I'm finally beginning to really appreciate the value of rest. Not just physically, but mentally; emotionally. Stop. Be still. Breathe deep.

All is well.

Remembering David

2010-12-18T09:32:00.008-06:00

One year later, here we are. I've had some pretty vivid flashbacks to this time a year ago. It seemed surreal then and seems surreal now.

David has three amazing daughters who are all grown and living other places than Austin. After the news of his accident, it was important, and of course, necessary that we contact his girls and get them to Austin right away. That plan worked well for two of them, but David's middle daughter was in Europe finishing a study abroad program. We found it difficult to contact her, and difficult to find a flight out as soon as possible. Once she did get on a plane, there were delays and missed flights; not knowing where she was; stress. She did finally make it to Austin around midnight of the 18th. All that to say, there were a few of us that were holding the space in the hospitial waiting room those four days. We just sat with the other two daughters for support and love. We shared stories. Saw old friends; even laughed. We pretty much took over the waiting room. I walked in on Wednesday morning (after we had just been there for one day), and it was clear that we had made this place our own. Oragami creations were hanging from the walls, games were all over the floor, and ads from the newspaper were also displayed on the walls. (Perhaps these ads had somewhat questionable content, but it fit our little group). We helped where we could. Most of this help was devoted to protecting the daughters from the masses of people who wanted to visit. It would have been overwhelming for the them to receive visits from the literally hundereds of people who would have come. The nurses were already asking our pastor to pass the word to our congregation for people to stop calling the nurses station. At one point, there were so many calls coming in that they felt like they couldn't do their job. To say that David was well-loved is an enormous understatement. Everyone who knew him would undoubtedly say he was one of their very best friends. And that they were very special to him. And we were. I'm not sure how one creates such a sense of love and incluson to everyone, but he did. For me, this was his greatest gift. I saw it for years in his youth ministry. I saw it with people who had special needs, or didn't seem to have many friends. I saw it with people who were homeless. His welcoming to everyone; his genuine care seemed so effortless. (Although, I did hear stories about people that made him shake his head!)

The 18th was a long day. I had a sense first thing that morning (early and with very little sleep) that our long week of waiting would soon be coming to an end. Later that night, his daughters acted bravely and powerfully and let him go. Even now, I feel in my body the moment when our pastor announced to us that "David was in heaven now." Although we knew this moment was coming, it just doesn't prepare you for the jolt to your soul.

This day falls in the middle of Advent. The season of waiting; expectation.; the revealing of God with us. A couple of weeks ago I helped a group of people lead worship at church. Our theme was the "Unexpected God." We shared our stories of how we experiencec God in the unexpected moments. Then, somehow, the mystery; the miracle that this unexpected encounter transforms our life. My relationship and experiences with David over many years changed my life. For me, there is great irony in the timing of his death and Advent. His death was certainly unexpected. And I don't yet see God in this. I don't see or feel the transforming miracle. I've felt fairly cynical over this last year. Not to mention angry. Feeling like this is an act of gross injustice, especially to his daughters. So, I'm just going to voice those feelings and let them be. I have no desire to tidy them up or put a nice "churchy" bow on them. And yet, I can't escape feeling immensley grateful. I'm grateful for the time in my life that I did share with him. I'm a better person for having him in my life. I wouldn't trade a single moment, even to avoid this pain.

A beautiful candle is burning in my home today. I'm wearing a Baylor shirt and my Baylor cap. I'll be making gumbo to prepare for a gathering tomorrow with dear friends. We'll remember him together with a Cajun potluck. Nothing could be more perfect.

The phone call

2010-12-14T22:30:00.003-06:00

The kind of phone call you get in the middle of the night when you know the news on the other end can't be good. Except this call came at high noon. I'm told that one of my dearest friends of the last 16 years had an accident. A bad accident. A random, freak accident. He's in ICU. He's not going to recover. Even now, one year to the day, those words seem incomprehensible. My body was paralyzed; my mind struggled for anything to say.

David was a life-long pastor who focused most of his career in youth ministry. I think in hearing this news, there was something inside of me; an expectation that somehow this really wasn't going to end badly. Maybe because he was a pastor; devoted his life to serving God and loving others; because everyone thought he was their best friend; because hundreds of young people would testify that he saved their life; because something this terrible couldn't possibly happen to him; because he has 3 daughters; because, because , because. But bad things really do happen to good people. This time to one of the best people on this earth. Four days later, my friend died.

It's been a hard year living with the void that his passing has left in my life. And yet, I feel like that only now I'm really beginning to let myself feel the depth of my sadness. I miss his presence...

every Sunday mornng

most Monday mornings when I would drop by his office to visit

almost daily phone calls

every youth event

talking Baylor sports- especially with the incredible basketball and football seasons this year!

braggin about TJ

any and every time I need to talk about something in my life that I was struggling with

when I wanted to tell someone about something cool that happened

I miss his smile. I miss how happy he always looked to see me. I miss hearing him tell stories. I miss seeing him cry (which he did easily and often).

I've taken some opportunities to acknowledge my sadness and move through the grief. Even still, I've been very conscious of not letting myself feel too sad. Or at least for very long. The pain has felt too deep and too big. This barrier of defense around my heart has been slowly crumbling over the last few weeks. I feel as sad today, and maybe more, than I did 12 months ago. Ultimately, I know this is a good thing. And I think it would be a grave dishonor to his memory to run from this. I feel more willing than I have, up to this point, to be present and conscious in this process. Writing of my dear friend, working through this grief is the main reason I've returned to writing. Funny, it's the main reason I stopped writing several months ago. Though writing about all this here, as opposed to my private journal, feels woefully vunerable. My thoughts are not very coherent; I find it hard to articulate what I want to say; my feellings are raw and all over the map. It's not neat and tidy for public consumption. I need to do this anyway. I'm trusting that God and my heart have led me here and it shall be a sacred place.

A poem...or just rambling thoughts

2010-12-13T09:01:00.004-06:00

Rumblings.
Ceaseless reminders of passing moons
Possibilty
Endings
Hope
Despondence
Swirling thoughts; tangled feelings
Tired
Wanting
Undeterred.

Christmas Tree

2010-12-04T14:13:00.004-06:00

Occassionally I have good ideas. Even more infrequently I'm very insightful. Mostly, I'm just pretty average. As a first- born hero child, I have quite an attachement to perfection. I'm also the child of an alcoholic; so I really want you to like me. Part of the challenge about having this blog is that I've put alot of pressure on myself to "have something worth saying, " or just be quiet. As I re-enter the world of writing, I'm going to try really hard 1) not to write for you, and 2) not care too much what you think. (Not caring at all is unrealistic; I'm not even going there.) At least for now, for so many reasons, writing needs to be for me. Today, I'm writing with no great spiritual insight or talk through some cool experience I had...I just want to write about my Christmas tree!

I've always adored Christmas. As an adult with my own place, I've taken great pride and greater joy decorating for the season. I especially love putting up the tree (though not so much love in taking it down). It goes up every year just before we travel for Thanksgiving. After I lug a dozen boxes down from the attic, I crank up the volume on Christmas music. and get busy Sometimes, I forego the tunes and watch a beloved Christmas cartoon. My favorite is the Grinch Who Stole Christmas. And I bake sugar cookies. It's the smell I love and just seems necessary. Sadly, though, no cookies were baked this year. My husband is not so much into this whole production, so I end up doing it by myself. Kind of a drag, but I guess I've accepted it. We have lots of ornaments and I use 8 strands of lights, so it takes some time to get everything done. I'm always so happy when I'm finished (tired too!). It's so beautiful. This year I starting thinking about all the memories that this tree holds. The tree itself and many of the glass balls are from my first marraige. Wes's family gave all the kids an ornanement for Christmas every year. So, we have quite a few from his childhood. As a former teacher, I have many ornaments that were given to me by students. Some of those are sweet reminders of friends I've long since lost touch with. Then there are ornanements that Wes, TJ and I paint every year. I started this tradition when we got married. It's was just something fun to do together since the boys go on a "trimming the tree" strike every year. They usually complain about the painting, but comply. It's fun and we now have quite a collection of interestingly painted wooden ornaments. All in all, I have a thing of beauty that brings me to pause, remember days gone by, loved ones and precious memories.

8 months later...

2010-12-01T09:03:00.002-06:00

I'm back. Or at least I hope so. It's been a long year and I've really missed writing. I just haven't had the inspiration or energy. It's been a year of sadness, depression, beautiful surprises, irony and new paths.

Writing for me has always been the means by which I hear my soul. She speaks her voice through my pen. Surprisingly, writing has been the very thing I've resisted for the past several months. As I sat in church last Sunday, I felt it was time to resume writing. I hoped I would make this entry on Sunday, the first Day of Advent. Alas, it's Wednesday. I didn't grow up in a religious tradition that recognized Advent. I've only been learning and participating in this time during the last several years. And now, I love Advent. Advent affirms the parts of life that seldom get attention: waiting, expecting, listening...being still. I feel drawn to let Advent lead me back here. And so, Advent begs the questions, "What am I expecting?" "What am I waiting for?" Maybe it's not the expectation of any certain thing to come to pass, or a wish to come true. Perhaps it's an openness to the Divine...the unexpected...the miracles.

You are welcome to join me this Advent season. I would love to hear your stories of expectation, and encountering the Divine.

Namaste.

Catching up

2010-03-23T10:20:00.005-05:00

As Lent began I had a renewed desire and intention to return to the writing of my blog. I've missed writing regularly and being connected to those who read. Alas, this is the 1st I've written since the Lenten season began. I've simply had little desire write, and honestly, many other things I truly enjoy. In the last couple of weeks, I've become increasingly aware of an inner restlessness. Most days I don't feel especially centered or grounded; though I may be very productive and feel as if my day went well. I've noticed a reluctance to be still or quiet for any substantial period of time. I flit and flutter from one thing to another whether it be physical or only in my head. At a deep level, or perhaps just intellectually, I know what this is. It's familiar; I've been here before. It's grief. Plain and simple, good old-fashioned grief. Last week marked 3 months since my dear friend's passing. It was around the 2 month mark that the veil of surrealism began to lift. His absence was beginning to feel wickedly real. I speak of him often, and even do things to intentionally honor or remember him. Done, perhaps, without the full attention of my heart. In the last week or so, I've felt this resistance to reality harder to keep at bay. Tears creep through for no particular reason, or at the occurrence of something completely benign, such as our college alma mater reaching the Sweet 16 round of Men, and Women's College Basketball Tournament. I went through a similar grief process after my father died. There was a period of time that was restless, and a time of feeling very paralyzed. So, I know what to expect. I know what to expect. Knowing and embracing are worlds apart.

I also have to acknowledge that this loss coincides with other grief in my life. I think I will withhold the fine details here, but just to say that I feel the grief of a lifelong dream that has not yet become reality. And conventional wisdom would say that I am in the twilight of seeing my dream come true. This, too, is a reality ( in most moments) I choose not to fully feel. But the very marrow of my existence knows my loss, my longings and my sadness; even if my mind refuses to acknowldge.

The Lenton season is, in part, a reminder of desert times. This metaphor is not lost in my life right now. I suppose there isn't much to do in the desert but just be. Wandering? Yes. Searching? Yes. Nothing that seemingly sustains? Yes. Yet, this place serves a necessary purpose. I don't know much about ecology, but I suspect the deserts throughout the earth serve a purpose for all life. Somehow the earth would be adversely affected were it not for these barren lands. And so, I trust God that this is surely true in my life.

I was reading this morning from one of my favorite prayer books, The Celtic Wheel of the Year. It tapped yet another little crack in this defense I've been carrying.

MORNING INVOCATION:
Deep down and darkly down, there you are
there in the core where the world turns,
here in my marrow where no one sees.
May I feel your touch in my flesh,
especially when I seem to have no skin.
May I feel your strength in my muscle,
especially when I have no fight.
May I feel you down to my bones,
when I can come no other way.
Go beyond my bones when all has run dry.
May you remain there at the seat of my deepest desire,
present when I have forgotten my passion,
Be my comfort and my stay as I move through the world this day.

OPENING OUT:
O,Vunerable One who hears our cry,
be with each person this day who is wandering their own lonely desert.
Encircle with your love
those who know there are no short-cuts,
who cannot go round but must go through.
Thank you that we do not get to the garden,
until we have travelled through this featureless barren terrain.
For this is not a detour for the unlucky,
but the touching bottom of being alive,
where we must reckon with what is.

BLESSING:
When all seems hollow bless me.
When all seems broken bless me.
When you seem like a mirage bless me.
When I know you are not there bless me.
When I do not care if you are, bless me.
Take me unkempt face in your hands,
smudged and grimy from the road
and stroke your blessing into my features,
for you will never turn away a broken spirit.

Ash Wednesday

2010-02-17T08:38:00.005-06:00

Over the last several years, I've practiced the observance of Lent. Growing up in the Southern Baptist tradition as I did, we did not observe this season. I'm not sure I had even heard the word until I was in my 20's. Even still, it has become an annual ritual of mine and one that I eagerly anticpate. It is a time for me of reflection, repentance, rest and restoration (That sounds so "preacher-like"! I promise the alliteration was unintended!) I'll share more in the coming days of what I'm choosing to "let go of." At it's essence, it involves a slowing down. A slowing down of mind, body and spirit. I need this. For today, I simply leave you with a prayer. I discovered this prayer a couple of weeks ago as I was reading of Lenten and Ash Wednesday practices. It feels like a good way to begin.

Prayer of Saint Ephrem, the Syrian

O Lord and Master of my life, keep from me the spirit of indifference and discouragement, lust of power and idle chatter. [kneel/prostration]

Instead, grant to me, Your servant, the spirit of wholeness of being, humble-mindedness, patience, and love. [kneel/prostration]

O Lord and King, grant me the grace to be aware of my sins and not to judge my brother; for You are blessed now and ever and forever. Amen. [kneel/prostration]

Grace and peace to you.

Happy New Year

2010-01-12T08:39:00.005-06:00

The entrance into a new year has been quite slow. The two weeks leading up to January 1 were so fraught with busyness and emotion, it's taken awhile to recuperate. And I'm just beginning to really feel the loss of my friend and navigate this grief. A time will come when I can process some of that here, but I'm not ready for that just yet.

The day before David's memorial, a friend and writer shared a poem on his blog that I've been reading daily. The poem was taken from Guerrillas Of Grace: Prayers For The Battle .

Guide Me into an Unclenched Moment

Gentle me,
Holy One,
into an unclenched moment,
a deep breath,
a letting go
of heavy expectancies,
of shriveling anxieties,
of dead certainties,
that, softened by the silence,
surrounded by the light,
and open to the mystery,
I may be found by wholeness,
upheld by the unfathomable,
entranced by the simple,
and filled with the joy
that is you.

Perhaps one of my greatest struggles is living my life with an "clenched fist." A feeling at times of desperation or anxiety for something to be different, a prayer to be answered, a circumstance to be changed. I don't pray to be rich, or famous, or anything extravagant (at least in my opinion!). I just hope for dreams to become realty, for example. Not too much to ask, right? And then again, I may be too hard on myself. For this "clenched fist" syndrome may just be a part of the human condition. The truth is, I'm a fairly peaceful person. I have learned the beauty of acceptance and faith. I know the pentrating tranquility in my soul that comes from breathing deeply and truly believeing that all is well. And yet, I worry how taxes will be paid, or how much longer I'll have to work two jobs, or if TJ will make it through track season without injury, or if (fill in the blank).

"Dear God, just for today, guide me into an unclenched moment...or maybe even more than one."

David Gentiles Day

2009-12-30T09:45:00.009-06:00

Today I’m gathering with family and friends to honor the life of a great man, David Anthony Gentiles. David is one of my dearest friends for the last 16 years. He had a freak accident 2 weeks ago and died on December 18. David turned 58 years old just after Thanksgiving. He has three amazing daughters: Ariele, Hannah and Calla.

David is one of the most beloved and adored people I’ve ever known. He served in churches for over 30 years; primarily as a youth minister. Literally, hundreds of men and women from his youth groups would say that David changed their life. As one who volunteered in youth ministries since I was in college, I learned the most about ministry from David. His approach ministry was simple: build relationships and love kids. Nothing else was important. Anyone who knew him or worked with him, saw this in action. It wasn’t just a philosophy, it was the way he lived his life.

We shared many similar paths: a Southern Baptist upbringing. We often joked about some of those memories: Bible drills, GA programs and Vacation Bible School rituals. We both have been through divorce. He and I talked regularly when he became a single dad raising 3 young girls. He was worried and scared. He also turned out to be one of the greatest parents I’ve known. (I put him on my speed dial when TJ came to live with us. I called him A LOT!!) David took me to dinner and a movie the day my divorce was final. (that movie later proved to be a long-standing joke for us. I'll share that story another day.) When I started dating again, he was the person I called to share how a date went. He supported stories of "this guy was a total bore" or share in my excitement if things went well. And for a while, I was invited to share in the Saturday morning ritual of pancakes with him and his daughters. I even took a road trip with them once. Big fun. He helped me change the oil in my car (ok, he actually did the work but I was there). David and I shared many retreats, discipleship weekends, VBS and youth camps; amazing memories and funny stories. Telling stories of the legendary Country Camp may never quite be the same. We also knew what it was like to work for the church. It was during college that David began his work in the church, as did I. Although, David went on to devote his education and career to youth ministry. It’s only been in recent years that both he and I found an authentic beauty in a church that I think we both knew could exist, but never realized was actually possible.

David baptized me. Married me. Sat in a hospital waiting room for me -twice. Watched football games in my home. He was the emergency contact I list right after my husband. We both cheered for the Baylor Bears, even when we knew they wouldn’t win.

Two of my favorite characteristics of David, and the legacies I will remember the most…One is David’s deep, deep compassion for others. Especially for the outsiders, or the poor and mistreated. He modeled this for me and slowly, over the years, my fears or lack of comfort with those who are different than me is fading. I think perhaps his most striking attribute is his ability- his gift- to make everyone feel like they were special to him; that their relationship with David was unique. There is no doubt that each person who comes to his service today, or posts a note on Facebook, or looks through old photographs feels this way. That gift reflects paying attention, being present, really listening…part of everyday, just living life David Gentiles.

The memorial is being held at a baseball field. David was an avid baseball fan; it’s so perfect. I’ll be wearing my Baylor University baseball cap. Afterwards, an open house is being held at our church to visit with friends and pay homage to all things David, “The David Gentiles Experience.” His daughters have promised the most “badass-est” memorial ever. It is well on track for this goal. I was there for awhile yesterday helping his daughters and other dear friends prepare this space. It’s beautiful, and yet the cloud of surrealism slowly began to lift as I was there. I’m beginning to feel the heaviness of the sadness in my heart. I said good-bye to David at his bedside, but I know from experience that saying good-bye is really a process and it’s going to take awhile. I spoke to him or saw him several times a week; sometimes daily. He is the person I called or texted when a Baylor sport did something miraculous. He is one of the first people I called when I needed to talk. He was my partner in ministry: helping to plan, create, or brainstorm. He sat with me every Sunday morning in youth Bible Study. Yes, this is going to take awhile.

I know today will be a wonderful day of celebrating an amazing life and legacy. My sadness will take a back seat today as I hear stories, share my own memories, eat his favorite foods, hear his favorite music (from his massive LP collection!) and hug friends I haven’t seen in years.

This is going to be a good day, my friend. It’s all for you. Thank you for you love and amazing friendship. You always have a cherished place in my heart.

(for another wonderful tribute to David, read Eileen Flynn’s story in the Austin American Statesman. )

Advent

2009-11-30T12:13:00.003-06:00

Yesterday marked the beginning of Advent. A season of waiting, expectation, anticipation. I started my morning by reading the newest blog from my friend and woman extraordinaire, Julie Clawson. She writes, “As joy arrived and dwelt among us, we discovered that there is meaning in the waiting.” Ah, yes. I’m learning over and over that the lessons in life; the richness of life comes not when we reach our destination, but rather on our journey in getting there. I find myself in personal season of waiting. Waiting for a dream; waiting for yearnings fulfilled. I suspect I’m not alone in finding that waiting can be difficult. Our fast-paced, instant gratification culture does not encourage patience. Today I asked myself, “What am I gaining from this time of waiting?” If we’re paying attention, there are always lessons. Some of mine are new lessons; others gentle reminders. I’ve learned that I’m stronger than I sometimes give myself credit for. I’m learning about the incredible power of community and being loved. I am so richly blessed with amazing friends. Gratitude is transformational. This is not a new lesson for me, but I’m continually astounded at the magic this simple act creates. Perhaps the most beautiful and comforting reminder is the constant presence of God. This isn’t a new realization for me either. Nor is this an idealistic, Sunday School answer. I’m just amazed. The ever-present communion with the Almighty God is one of the few things that I believe in without waiver. The Creator of all living things, vast and small, became flesh and blood and dwelled among us. And God hasn’t left. Recently, I’ve been rethinking some ideas that I’ve held about prayer. The answer to a prayer isn’t necessarily the moment when the “thing” you’ve prayed for finally happens. Perhaps the answers come simply in the act of praying. I’m aware of the presence of God in the asking, the questioning, the crying, or the disappointment. At times, it seems as though God is more evident in the searching than in the finding. For this period of waiting for me, I find this to be true. And I’m grateful. If I only found God at the end of the road, I suspect I would rarely finish the journey. Esther De Wall writes in The Celtic Way of Prayer, “I shall not find Christ at the end of the journey unless he accompanies me along the way.” At a time when answers are allusive, there is still laughter, hope, and happiness. This is the mystery of God…happiness in the midst of sadness, a glimmer of hope among despair, a smile through the tears. Still…waiting is difficult. Even my firm belief in God does not interfere with my struggle. Today, I’m finding comfort in the journey and in the anticipation of miracles, both seen and unseen, that are being born in me. Welcome Advent.

The question

2009-04-22T09:02:00.003-05:00

I started reading a new book this morning, The Dance, by Oriah Mountain Dreamer. I read another of her books a few years ago, The Invitation. I loved that book and it's one that I go back to often. After just a few pages this morning of the new book, I have to stop and let the poignancy of these few words settle in me. She begins chapter one by asking the question,

"I want to know why I am so infrequently the person I really want to be?"

A fair question, I think. One that I often ask of myself. I ask myself the questions of why I find it difficult to be more patient, more compassionate, more aware, more loving with myself and others, more generous. I think all of these qualities are worthy of improving upon. I write about it, I pray, or look for ways to remind myself how to practice these things that I want to grow in me.

In a dream, she hears this:

"Wrong question, Oriah. The question is not why you are so infrequently the person you really want to be. The question is why do you so infrequently want to be there person you
really are?"

This resonates with me as the truer question. I've got to ponder on this awhile.

Easter

2009-04-11T21:23:00.004-05:00

I can’t believe it’s been so long since I’ve done any writing. This last month…well, it’s been interesting. And all that life brings from day to day takes away from my creativity. I don’t especially feel creative today, but I’m drawn to write about Easter. Easter is becoming my favorite holiday; perhaps even more than Christmas! Much of my life I’ve experienced Easter as a very celebratory, exuberant day. I suppose the church tradition I’ve grown up in creates this. Church was always an extra special event, especially the Easter Pageant…for all of you Baptist folks. And yes, I have played (and sung )the role of the mourning mother of Jesus. Over the last several years, I have felt a mellowing for this holiday. There is nothing wrong with the rejoicing; I believe there is much to celebrate. Easter, and the weeks of Lent leading up to it, though have become more of a time of reflection for me. A time to reflect on my own faults, wrongs…the things in me that I would have die. A time to reflect on the things in life I am slave to, as Jewish followers do as they remember the Exodus. And it’s a time for gratitude for the many, many things God has done and is doing in my life.

I’m especially mindful this year of those parts of my life that need new life. Last year, some of you will remember, I took a 4 day silent retreat. While I was there I walked the Stations of the Cross. There is a Station near the end that marks the burial of Jesus. I took some of my writings from that week and burned them; burying the ashes as this station. It was an act for me of saying there are things I wish to surrender to God. Asking for God to bury them just as Jesus’s close friends buried him. It was also asking God to resurrect something new in me. A miracle. Something only God could do. I’m asking the same thing this Easter.

I host a Passover Seder with the teenagers at my church each year. It’s such a great time of sharing and remembering. It’s one of my favorite things I do with them. A part of the Seder is the remembering how the Hebrews were slaves in Egypt . On the night of the 10th plague, the Angel of Death passed over their doors at midnight killing all the 1st born of those who had not placed the blood of a lamb of their door. In retelling this story, they remember that for the 1st half of the night they were slaves, and the 2nd half of the night they were free.

Tonight at midnight I will take my turn in our faith community’s Easter Prayer vigil. I didn’t specifically pick this time, it was one of the few times left open. I grateful, though. As the hour passes form Lent to Easter, I will be praying. Praying for the courage to surrender. Praying for miracles. Praying for new life and offering many, many thanks.

Ash Wednesday

2009-02-25T16:39:00.004-06:00

I grew up in a Baptist church. We didn't observe Ash Wednesday or Lent. That was left, I guess, to the Catholics or those persons cleaning their dryers. (really bad joke) Anyway, the church I helped start a few years ago observes this time of the Christian season. We have tried to embrace practices from many religions and walks of faith. Lent for me, like Advent or Rosh Hashanah is a symbol; a vehicle for connecting to the Divine in this world and in me. I need ritual and sacrament to help me focus. Life is just to crazy and busy to do it on my own sometimes. It's also about community. Though Lent is perhaps focused on the individual, it is also practiced in community. I may have questions about faith or God and how God works in my life, but there is comfort in the collective belief. The community of doubters, journeyers, those searching, those that feel confident and strong...this is what church has become for me.

I just spent some time in prayer at the Warehouse my faith community calls home. After my time of prayer and communion, one of the ministers marked my forehead with ashes. Another symbol...for me a symbol of releasing attachment. The Buddhists say that attachement is the source of all suffering. I have no reason to argue. It is traditional to "give up" something during the Lenten season. I've prayed and thought about what that will be for me. The questions arising for me are 1) what gives me false security, 2) what distracts, 3) what keeps me from listening. The last one is what kept coming to me this afternoon. What keeps me from listening...to God, to others- really listening, and listening to my own heart and soul. Computers, TV, busyness, the will to "be right", fear... are just a few that start my list.

I realize that Lent begins today and therefore so should my abstinence. I'm reluctant to pick something just for the sake of doing so. So for today, I'm just going to listen.

"Be still and know that I am God."

Jinx Lacey Day

2009-02-21T08:47:00.009-06:00

Today I will attend the memorial service for my dear friend Jinx. She passed away suddenly about 2 weeks ago. As is often the case in death, this still seems surreal.

I met Jinx in 1993 when I moved to Austin. She and I sang in the church choir together. She would sit in the same place every week with the same little group of 2nd sopranos. I sang 1st soprano (at the time...those days have long since passed for me) and sat all the way in the back behind the 2nds. In the songs that demanded the 1st sopranos sing so high that only dogs could hear, she would often turn around and look at me. And there were times, when she knew the highest notes were coming and she turned around to look at me anxiously awaiting the screaching. I would always laugh and tell her it was impossible for me to sing like that with her staring at me. She kept on though, with her ever-present big smile. She called me a "swan." Now, I've heard the sounds a swan makes and it isn't especially lovely. But for Jinx, this was a high compliement. Any time I saw her she never failed to call me by this name. She was one of my biggest fans and it always felt good to hear her champion the gifts God has given me. I visited her one day in the high school where she worked. She didn't teach, but at least on some occassions, she had a class that she led. The day I was there she insited that I sing for her class. I probably would have done anything for her. So, I obliged and sang to this room full of very disinterested teenagers. Jinx, however, was standing in the back smiling from ear-to-ear.

She did the Lord's work in the world....a crisis counselor for High School students. It's my understanding that she did this work for more than 30 years. There was a memorial service last week for students, former students and faculty from the school where she worked. I was not able to attend, but I was told the people shared their stories of Jinx for more than 2 hours. They shared stories of how she helped them through the hardest of times, how she listened to them when no one else would, how she loved on them when they felt like no one else did. From my own experience, she was one of those people who made you feel like no one else was in the room but you and her. Whomever she was talking with had her undiveded attention. That is an important gift to anyone, but certainly to a struggling teenager.

She was also one of the funniest women I have ever known. Oh, my goodness this lady was funny. To give you an idea of her comedic gifts, I'll pass on a story I heard just after her passsing. As any good American school will do, they often planned early morning meetings for the faculty. One of the other counselors at her school shared that on one occassion, Jinx showed her displeasure of the early morning meetings by arriving to work in her pajamas and curlers. Yep. That was Jinx. Oh, my...I wish I had been there!! I think it was this boisterous spirit that made her so attractive to others and to me. I loved to be around her just so I could laugh! And yet, I know that it was deeper than that. There was a spirit of passion and generocity that she lived with. She loved life and deeply cared about those around her.

This world has lost a precious soul. It will be good to honor her life today. To my dear friend Jinx, thanks for your friendship, the laughter and the legacy of love you gave to me and this world. I will miss you.

A "first" for me!

2009-01-31T10:26:00.006-06:00

Several weeks ago, Bob asked me to submit an article to our local newspaper. For mysterious reasons unknown to me, I have a hard time telling Bob "no." Perhaps because he is one of the coolest "thinkers" that I know. I have a deep respect and admiration of him. He is also great writer and therefore I'm ridiculously intimidated. Anyway, I said yes to the task of writing an article about my faith. The essay appears in today's issue. I've been a bit nervous about it, but I also feel very excited. And, though this is difficult to say, I'm quite proud. I had to share it with you!

"Redefining faith after religious upbringing"

I grew up in church. Grew up as in, every time the doors were open I was there. That kind of grew up. I knew all the stories and I knew what they meant. I memorized dozens and dozens of Bible verses, attended every morning and evening service, and I knew all the answers for every Sunday School question.

This was the church of my mother and her parents. I’m deeply grateful for my Southern Baptist heritage. It provided me a beautiful foundation that my life sits firmly upon today. There were precious men and women who loved, taught, nurtured and guided me for 18 years. My time in this faith tradition gave me a faith that was very strong, as well as neat and tidy.

Christianity was simple with clear cut answers. I believed that God didn’t necessarily live at the church, but I could certainly find God there. Within a few short of years of living outside this incubator, I began to learn that my God did exist in a box. By the time I graduated from college, God had begun a slow and steady dismantling of everything I thought I believed. I’ve come to call it the “authenticating of my faith.”

My belief in God, and what it meant to be a Christian was slowly distancing itself from the faith of my church and my grandparents. My faith was becoming my own. Tough experiences in life, such as a divorce 3 years after my fairy tale wedding, began to complicate the simple faith I had always known. Unsuspecting men and women found their way into my path offering me different perspectives of God and faith.

Their God seemed bigger than mine. They spoke of God with much less rigidity and certainty, and I found this deeply intriguing. As a result, for the last 10 or 12 years I have been asking questions about what I believe and why. That can be a scary place; for who knows what could be on the other side of questioning who God is? At times this questioning, even doubting, has brought an unsettling feeling to present circumstances that needed absolutes. And yet, this path has brought the greatest joy and fulfillment I have known in all my life of being a believer.

I don’t memorize Bible verses like I used to, but I love to read and study the stories of men and women from the Bible. I’ve begun to read those stories, in part, within historical and cultural contexts. This is not only fascinating, but makes those ancient stories so much richer. Even more, I love discovering the life of Jesus and all that He taught.

Today my life as a follower of Jesus is about striving to take His teachings and live them out in my own life. This is not easy task at times. It’s not about going to church, believing the right doctrine, praying the right prayers, or even asking Jesus to be my ‘personal Savior.” It’s about love.

I’ve come to believe that all of Jesus’ teachings are all about love…loving others and ourselves. For me, God is found in community with others, whether they believe in God or not. Perhaps that community is in my church, or it could be with the neighbors on my street. I experience God in still moments with a cup of coffee and a Hill Country sunrise. And I’ve even experienced God in dark and hard times.

The writer of a song in the Bible says that God has known me since I was in my mother’s womb, and that there is nowhere that I can escape the presence of God. My soul feels this and it is both frightening and joyful.

I’ve discovered I don’t really know all the stories after all, they tend to ebb and flow with meaning giving me what I need for the moment. I certainly don’t know all the answers. God is a mystery and my life as a follower of Jesus is journey with constant change. My hope is that my searchings are always transforming my heart and mind, and I show it by how I love and serve the world. This is my joy, my calling and my salvation.

Happy New Year!

2009-01-07T22:26:00.004-06:00

I’ve missed writing the last few weeks. December seems to always be so busy. And yet, this year was not as busy as in years past. I really felt no stress about shopping, planning, traveling, etc. We purchased very few gifts this year (a self-imposed spending freeze!). Instead, at least with my family, we tried to just focus on being together. It was wonderful.

As I often do at the end of the year, I’ve been reflecting on this past, and also looking ahead. I was delighted to end 2008 with a quiet and serene beginning to 2009. My husband and I had planned to go to a party, but then he decided that he would just rather stay home. This self-proclaimed night-owl went to bed at 11:30! TJ was gone, so at midnight I was all by myself watching the ball drop in New York City. And I was perfectly content! Shortly after midnight, I said goodnight to Dick Clark and turned off the TV. For the next hour I sat writing in my journal by the light of my Christmas tree, drinking hot chocolate and listening to my favorite Mannheim Steamroller song “Stille Nacht”. This is actually one of my favorite things to do at Christmas. So I thought it was an especially cool way to ring in the new year. I began to write of this lovely moment as well as my aspirations for the new year. Not so much resolutions or goals, but intentions. I wrote about things that bring me joy and my intention to live joyfully. I also wrote of my many, many blessings and how grateful I am. It was a beautiful time for me doing something I love while saying thank you to the past and hello to the future.

This last week has brought to me an interesting message. Three different times, from three different people I’ve had this idea of “birthing” brought to me. The idea of (or my interpretation) “what is it that God is birthing in me?” What is happening in my life right now that is actually the process of birthing something new? I’m not a mother yet; I hope to be one day. And perhaps this question relates to the physical, but I think it’s more spiritual. For birth to occur there is preparation, waiting, expectation, pain and joy. All of those things are present in my life today. I have some thoughts about this idea, but no answers. Perhaps asking the questions is a part of the process. Right now I’m intrigued by this idea and think it’s a wonderful way to start a new year.

Prayer for today

2008-12-11T08:56:00.003-06:00

God,

Heal my body, soul and mind. Show me the paths that allow me to serve my neighbor and myself to the greatest good. Give me courage to seek and embrace the new and the unknown. Provide me with boldness to give and receive love in all things.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Intention

2008-11-26T12:50:00.001-06:00

I’ve been sick for a few days. Probably bad allergies, but maybe a cold. I felt pretty awful for a couple of days, and I lost my voice. Monday and Tuesday I could barely whisper. Even though I don’t necessarily like being sick and I have a lot of things to do this week, this was actually welcome. Mostly, I was glad to not speak. It sounds kind of weird, but there is something about it that brings solitude. You can’t speak, so you don’t. It’s irritating for others to try and talk to you, so they don’t. It’s not really that bad! For me, losing my speaking voice also seems to make the voices in my head shut up. The voices that constantly remind me of my list of things to do, or the voices that are mulling over problems…whatever. I’ve spent the last couple of days decorating my house for Christmas, taking naps, cooking for Thanksgiving and watching movies. And in all of that there is this sense of slowing down. Certainly, not feeling well contributes but it’s more than that. I’m a BIG fan of alone time, solitude, and being still. I need those things in my life; they feed my soul in deep places. But the last few days have been thinking more about just slowing down. Solitude is nice, but not scrambling through each and every day racing from one thing to another may bring even greater serenity. The fast-paced lifestyle seems to be the American way. And I do it well most of the time even without even realizing. I eat fast for absolutely no reason at all. Or I hurry up and water the plants (even though it’s 60 degree outside with beautiful sunshine) so I can get back inside and….do the next thing? I long to live my life with deliberateness and intention. Sometimes I do, or at least better than I used to. But most of the time I run on autopilot. What a gift we can give ourselves…to be in the present moment. It’s a wonderful thing to eat your dinner slowly while visiting with friends or family, or to walk slowly to the mailbox, or to really take the time to enjoy the morning’s 1st cup of coffee before the day gets started. I’m not sure how one undoes the American Way of hurry up, I just know that I feel better and enjoy life so much more when I slow down.

A response to the editor

2008-11-07T09:17:00.012-06:00

I received an anonymous comment yesterday from a man who says he is the editor of the student newspaper at the University of Texas. I’ve decided to respond to some of the comments, as well as elaborate on some of my thoughts. I would like to say that I’m not a politician, economist, historian, data-head or news junkie. In the world of politics, I’m very green. I’m also a believer. I strive to live my life by the teachings of Jesus and to follow what he said is the greatest commandment, “To love the Lord with all you heart, soul, mind and strength. And to love your neighbor as yourself.”
My hope for myself, as well as others, is that I take the interest I have found in this Presidential race and carry it to the State and Local levels. With that disclaimer, please read on taking what you like and leave the rest.

Dear S,

Thanks for stopping by my blog! Though I don’t agree with many of the perspectives you offer, I’m happy to have a conversation. I won’t respond directly to some of the specific points that you made, but will mostly elaborate on my overall essay to clarify any misunderstandings.

One thing I will address directly is your #1 statement. Since I didn’t mention what 2007 interview I referred to, it’s a bold statement to say that I misquoted him. With that being said, let me make 3 points:
1) It was probably generous of me to use quotations around something he said since I do not remember exactly the words he used. The essence of what he discussed though, I believe I understand him clearly.
2) I am completely aware of his political stance on abortion, as well as his voting record.
3) To answer your # 5 statement, my answer is “Yes.” I completely agree with his discussion about abortion being a complex issue without clear-cut defining answers. (Though I do have big concerns about certain aspects of his abortion stance such as partial-birth or late term abortions). I think it a crying shame that this issue has become a political platform in our country. In my opinion, this isn’t a political issue at all. Yet, we force our leaders of government to choose one side or the other. I have dealt with this issue in my own family. I have seen and experienced the magnitude this challenge brings to the mother, father and their respective families. Therefore, I don’t form this decision out of isolated ideology, but out of many different factors including real life experience. I agree that the voices of the unborn must have advocacy. We must have boundaries…thus the role of government. I believe in the sanctity of life…of all life (I refer to issues such as war, death penalty and poverty). However, it my firm opinion that it is not the role of the government to tell me or any other woman what we can and cannot do with our body. I’ll stop here on this issue as I don’t want this letter to focus totally on abortion, but I heard you asking for my opinion of Obama’s stance on this issue. This is a tough issue for me, one that I have great inner struggle with from a political standpoint and then from a standpoint of being a believer...a believer in the God who created ALL life. Perhaps my views will change one day, but for today this is where I am.

The other specific thing I will address is my statement of having “firsthand knowledge of discrimination.” Perhaps I give myself too much credit here for seeing and understanding racism from arms length. I am a white woman. No matter how black friends I have, no matter how unjust I judge black Americans to be treated at times, no matter how much embarrassment I feel for some of the history in our country towards blacks…I will never understand. It’s just not possible. For that reason alone, perhaps the wisest course for me to take is to just not comment. I’ll give this consideration. I had this same feeling about all the news regarding Reverend Wright and his church earlier in the year. I’m not black, I’m not a black person in a black church, and therefore I have absolutely no business judging what is said among that community. So, my friend, if my attempt to speak towards racism is offensive to you, I offer my deepest apologies.

Beyond your first statement, I don’t have any interest in addressing your other comments specifically. I don’t think it’s worth my time, or serves a good purpose. Especially, your #4 statement. Frankly, I think it’s repulsive that you even say such a thing out loud. Not to mention undermining the intelligence and good intent of that 93%...though I haven’t yet seen this number reported. Instead, I would like to attempt to clarify my overall sentiments. First of all, I did not vote for Obama because he is black. Based on CNN polls as far back as June and as recent as last week, I’m not alone. In short, their numbers report that 7 out of 10 voters did NOT vote based on race. You can read this report for yourself at http://www.cnn.com/2008/POLITICS/10/24/poll.race/. I’m sure there are many people who did vote for him simply because he’s black, just as there are people who voted for McCain because they would never vote for a Democrat or vice versa. I unequivocally disagree with your statement, “This man was not voted in due to the content of his character..but was judged by the color of his skin. Period.” This is a statement of opinion, a narrow-minded opinion as far as I’m concerned, and certainly not one based on civility much less fact. I believe I did exactly what Reverend King spoke of, and I know many, many other people that did the same…that we ”judged (a person) not on the color of their skin but (among many other things) on the content of their character.”

In my closing paragraph, I spoke of the great pride I feel this week. Let me be clear once again, I am not saying that my pride simply comes from for voting for a black man. I’m proud because of what is one of the largest voter turn-out in US history. I’m proud of the all the 1st-time voters. I’m proud of America for giving a damn about this process. I’m proud of all Americans… black, white, gay, straight, Democrat, Republican, rich poor....for, at least, striving to be the United States. Certainly there is not unity in policy, but I do believe (and perhaps I’m naïve and idealistic) that we have unity in purpose. I believe that all Americans want the very best for our country, and our families. THAT, if only that, can be our common ground. This can be the common ground that makes a path for the greater good.

So, “S,” please…take a break from the divisive rhetoric. Please, do everyone a favor and find a place to be grateful for the wonderful freedom that you enjoy regardless who leads this country.

A Defining Moment

2008-11-05T20:04:00.003-06:00

Last night was a powerful moment in US history. The headlining news of every media channel world-wide has announced the election of America’s first African-American President. I tuned into FoxNews last night just in time to hear Brit Hume call the results for California, and thus, call the election for Barack Obama. I felt such joy and pride, and as I wrote to a fellow Facebook friend, I was speechless.

I voted for Senator Obama. It’s the 1st time in 22 years of being eligible to vote that I voted for a Democrat. This was no small departure for me. And there are those among my family and friends that are quite disappointed. I began paying attention to Obama last year after hearing an interview with him. The journalist asked him about his thoughts on abortion. He first said, “It’s a complex issue. One that is doesn’t have simple answers.” He went on to talk about how he was still working out this issue for himself, both as a politician and a private citizen. It was the 1st time I could recall a politician give something other than a clear black and white answer….for anything. For him to acknowledge the complexity of such an issue (it could have been any issue) and to say publically that he’s still sorting things out…for me, that was impressive. So, I began to listen. And then begin educate myself on one issue, then another. Listening and research morphed into curiosity, then into conversations. I am among the throngs of people who, for the first time, have found interest (dare I say even excitement?!) in politics. There were many others interviews, speeches, and debates to follow that solidified my vote. Though some around me have challenged my opinions, I believe I followed due diligence of research…and my heart.

My generation has many souls that have made their indelible mark on our country….Martin Luther King, Jr., John F. Kennedy, Barbara Jordan and Cesar Chavez to name a few. Perhaps it is premature to put Obama’s name along side of these great people. Yet, I hear in him and see in the work he done up to this point a perspective on life, community, democracy, and government that sets him apart from the crowd. I want that, and need that in a President. He is a fine and gifted orator. And while that doesn’t qualify him to be president, it does pave a way to speak to people of all backgrounds. His words inspire. Again, not a qualification for a world leader, but inspiration is a powerful medium. Inspiration can give people the opportunity to have a different perspective. Inspiration can be a catalyst for courage, risk-taking and dreaming. I think, in part, that is what America did yesterday.

It makes me proud that our country has taken a grand step forward in bridging the gap between the different races our country is home to. (For a wonderful visual aid, checkout my friend Bob’s blog ) The Civil Rights Movement of the 1960’s was not that long ago. And having TJ live with us during the last 4 years, I have witnessed firsthand the discrimination toward blacks that still exist in the 21st century. At times, I have been appalled and ashamed. But there was no shame in yesterday’s election. I speak of my pride and excitement, though with some hesitancy. There is a part of me that feels like I’m watching something great from the outside. I’m witnessing the fruition from generations of struggle and dreams of a people whose skin is a different color than mine. Though it’s a day for all Americans, it certainly is quite special for my black brothers and sisters. Boundaries and ceilings have been removed. Black Americans have a path for all the opportunities of this great country has to offer. Opportinuties that perhaps I take for granted. This man has given our country and all it's citizens a great gift. I hope one day to meet him. I hope to shake his hand and say thank you.

This is a great, great day for our country and our world. America, I’m proud of you. Not for voting for a Democrat. I’m proud of you, America, for caring. I’m proud of you for dreaming, whoever you voted for. I’m proud of all Americans for taking part in the beautiful gift of democracy we have in this country.

As President Elect Obama said in his speech last night, “This is a defining moment.”

Poverty

2008-10-14T13:47:00.004-05:00

Today is Blog Action Day. It's an annual event that aims to unite bloggers, podcasters and videocasters to post about the same issue. This years' topic is poverty. Nearly 1 in 5 adults and 1 in 4 children in Texas are hungry. This number is staggering to me. In the year 2008 can this really be true? Not just true in 3rd world countries, but my State, my city. Thanks to my friend, Bob Carlton, for initiating this effort with his readers. I'm happy to do my part, though it feels enormously small. You can read other posts from today at www.thefaceofpoverty.org.

Over the last few years I’ve been hanging out with people who offer great amounts of time and energy serving the homeless here in Austin. The result is a growing prompting in me to do my part. Like many people, it’s easy to look the other way when stopped at the traffic light. It’s easy to just simply pray that God takes care of the homeless…while I purchase fish to grill at my HOUSE with AC, a big TV and comfy bed.

Four years ago I helped start a new faith community in town. One commitment this community makes is give the first 10% of offerings to funds devoted to serving others. One of the ways we do this is through working with Mobile Loaves and Fishes. A organization commited to feeding and clothing the homeless. Each month, our community takes 2 days to make sandwiches and deliver dinner to the homeless in downtown. Since I help organize the youth group at this church, I try to work efforts like this into our calendar. I guess the first time I signed us up to help was about 3 years ago. I have to say that I was a little apprehensive. I didn’t know what to expect and honestly I think I had some negative assumptions about this group of people that fed my reluctance. I felt bad for being afraid, or even trying to find away to get out of it. It’s hard to admit that even now. A wonderful surprise found me that day. ..beautiful people. Yes, some of them wore very dirty clothes and didn’t look (or smell) very good. But…they had lovely smiles, stories to tell…they have names. I met people who once had jobs and now they don’t; they lost everything including their homes. Many of the wonderful people I met had college degrees; who knew? Certainly not me. The youth and I handed them dinner, barely enough to fill a plastic sack from the grocery store. And they were so grateful. We were able to give some of them clothes; until we ran out of the supply we brought. When was the last time you were grateful for socks? Socks?! These men and women were so polite and so thankful for the very few things we gave that day. Many of them don’t know when they will eat again, but they have food for this meal and they were thankful.

God is teaching me more and more to step outside my comfort zone, stretch my preconceived ideas about the poor and homeless, and growing a place in my heart to loving them by giving to them out of the many, many blessings and comforts in life that I have been given. Each time I make a run with Mobile Loaves and Fishes, I am reminded of the reality that I could easily be in their shoes. A twist of fate, a string of bad luck, or tragedy can find us all. There is really nothing in life that belongs to me. Everything I have is a gift; everything is temporary. My prayer for myself is that I’m always seeking to be grateful for all that I have by giving it away. May I honor God and the blessings he has given me by letting go of fear, letting go of my attachment to things and serve my brothers and sisters.

It's my Birthday!!

2008-10-01T09:32:00.005-05:00

It's true. Today is the big 4-0. I'm wearing a tiara...all day. And I've eaten birthday cake for breakfast. I think it's a pretty good start to my day!

The celebration of my birthday has morphed over time. Growing up, I don't recall much celebrating besides having grandparents over for dinner. Many of those "parties" happened on Saturday night, though I'm sure that my birthday did not fall on the same day every year. I know this because I've seen way too many pictures of me blowing out candles with pink foam rollers in my hair...so my hair is nice and pretty for church, of course. Really, I've seen at least 6-7 pictures- from different birthdays- with my hair in pink rollers. (Note to self, "DO NOT do this to your daughter.") I don't remember having parties with my friends. Though, I do remember my dad bringing a cake to Youth Group on my 18th birthday. Since college and most of my adult years, I've made little to no noise about my birthday. I didn't tell people, never did anything...it was just another day. Somewhere in my 30's, or maybe it started after my divorce at 29, I began to do things to honor myself on my birthday. I still didn't mention it much, but would buy myself a present. Slowly, that "self-celebrating" grew. I started a few rituals (like eating b'day cake for breakfast!) and telling others. At first, I would just tell whomever I saw on that day. Now, I give people a lot of notice!! I've been reminding my youth group for a couple of months now!!

There are some mixed feelings I have about being "40." Over the past year, I've have felt this inner wrestling about where my life is and where I thought it would be by today. I would necessarily call it a "crisis", but perhaps a "mid-life predicament." I'll save expounding on that for another day. Because in spite of all that wrestling, I truly feel happy and excited today. I stayed up until midnight just to be awake when the clock struck October 1. I even wore my tiara upstairs when I went to bed! I didn't sleep in it though, it was stabbing me in the head.

Monday and Tuesday I attended Rosh Hashanah services. I'll write more about that later. The litergy from the services was really beautiful. There was one particular paragraph that caught my attention. I'll close with this:

"To say that life is both fleeting and uncertain is a truth that presses upon the mind with special force as the old year ends and a new one begins. We are led to turn our thoughts to Him; to remember that He has given us our lives in trust to use in His service. We begin by entering upon the task of self-examination and self-enoblement. 'A New Year,' say the Rabbis, 'should inaugurate new life."

The quest

2008-09-28T19:23:00.003-05:00

Last week I met Phyllis Tickle. A delightful, intelligent and engaging woman. She came to Austin for a series of lectures. I was fortunate enough to hear her speak about her newest book, The Great Emergence. As I've told before, I'm a born and raised Southern Baptist girl. My home church was a typical small-town Baptist church... complete with an expansive organ, choir loft, a bapistry about 10 feet above ground level and burnt orange carpet. Oh, and my church had a Family Life Center. In all other parts of the world, it would be called a gym. I suppose for church folks that's not quite spiritual enough. I practically lived at the church. There were services in the morning and at night. Something happened on Monday (I forget what it was). On Tuesday there was visitation (door knocking during good people's dinner time) and of course, Wednesday night Bible Study. I attended everything. I was taught well, the stories of the Bible, from good men and women from the time I was born until I left at 18. This was the church of my mother and her parents. Good people with strong faiths. I'll skip the next 12 years or so, and simply say that there came a time when I began to question all (or at least many) of the things these good people taught me. I've asked myself the questions of what I believe and why I believe. I have become facinated with church history, and Biblical history. I have loved learning about Jesus from the stand point of the time in history that he lived. I am learning of middle-eastern cultural and the tradition of Jewish faith that he followed. It has brought richness to the scriptures and the teachings of Jesus that I've never had before.

There has been a movement (for lack of a better word) in the church world over the last couple of decades called Emergent. The voices of this movement actually refer to it as a "conversation." I love that. The intention is to have a conversation about what it means to be a follower of Jesus. I have found a number of authors whose writings find deep connection for me, such as Brian McLaren and Tony Jones. That's where this wonderful lady, Phyllis Tickle comes in. She's a very learned scholar and thinker of this post-modern 20th/21st century we're living in. Her book, which I have yet to read, explores this idea of "emerging churches" not as a fad, or the latest religious bandwagon. She places this conversation in much broader terms for history. She speaks of it as being a part of a 500 year cycle that the culture or the world has seen since the time of Jesus. What I took away from those 2 hours with her was knowledge (which is always cool), and an excitement for what is happening in the world with regards to Christianity. I guess there's a lot going on in the world today that hardly inspires excitement. Yet, I hear her speak of change, good change, that is happening. And I guess I just feel like I'm a part of of. Asking good questions...questioning the things I've been taught about God, the Bible, Jesus, the world, the church. I'm pretty happy in this place. I don't have many answers really. And there are some around me that don't necessarily champion my path of curiosity. I guess there will always be those and perhaps those naysayers help keep be balanced. Nevertheless, I have a seemingly insatiable appetite to learn about Jesus and the things of God. What I hope comes from that desire is a truer place of serving. I really don't want knowledge just for the sake of being smarter. My prayer is that my quests transform my heart and mind, and I show it by how I love and serve the world.

I'm standing on the eve of a big birthday. As I reflect on this previous decade, I'm clear that it has been about authenticating my faith. I'm very thankful for the church I was raised in and all I was taught, even if I have different opinions about those teachings today. I stand on the heritage that is my grandparents and their parents, but I have to believe in God for me. I'm immensely grateful for the foundation I was given as a little girl and young adult. I offer honor and blessing for all the men and women who took me under their wing, loved me and showed me their faith. My prayer is that I can pass that legacy on. A legacy of faith that is authentic and organic.

History

2008-08-27T21:20:00.003-05:00

Politics bore me out of my mind. I've never been interested. I cooperate with the democratic system of this country mostly out of guilt...I'm supposed to care; I'm supposed to vote. I have rarely thought that any given candidate was the savior he, or she, proclaimed. A couple of writers sum it up well for me. I'm an avid South Park fan. I think Trey Parker and Matt Stone are brilliant and hilarious, often giving bold statements about current social issues. As the last Presidential election was taking place in 2004, these boys decided to make their statement about the election. To date, it is absolutely one of my favorite episodes. The boys of South Park have to elect a new school mascot. The choices, one named by Kyle, the other named by Cartman are a Giant Douche Bag and a Turd Sandwich. (Sorry for the crasness...I didn't make this up!!) Their friend, Stan, decides that he doesn't like either candidate and refuses to vote. Bad things begin to happen for poor Stan. Ultimately, following his dad's encouragement, he decides to cast his vote. Stan's father, in all of his wisdom, says, "Son, you are always going to have to choose between a Giant Douche Bag and a Turd Sandwich." Brilliant.

I wouldn't actually characterize either of this years' candiates with those descriptors, but...I'm still flipping a coin. Over the past few years I have felt the spiritual changes in me begin to bleed over into politics. I wish that wasn't the case. Like I said, politics bores me out of my mind. I'm not very educated, and I have absolutely no desire to be smart about politics. Nevertheless, I have been paying attention during this year's campaign. I'm intrigued. At times confused. Usually frustrated. So, I'm watching the DNC. Next week I'll watch the RNC. Maybe I'll learn something!! Doubtful, but there's always hope.

Here's what I really want to say. This country made history today. The United States of America elected the 1st Black presidential nominee. I watched the news this afternoon as the delegate roll call was taken, and the Speaker of the House made it official. Despite whatever apathy I generally have towards politics, I felt unbelievable proud today. I guess there's also a part of it that highlights an embarrasing aspect of our culture. It's unbelievable to me that in the year 2008, blacks and whites still experience so much inequality. But that feeling holds a back seat, at least for today. I just feel very, very proud. I don't know if this is the right guy. I hope he is; I want him to be. Elected as President or not, history was made. And I think that's pretty damn cool.

August 16, 2004

2008-08-16T10:26:00.008-05:00

Today marks time again for me. It's been 4 years since my daddy, 60 years old, died of cancer. North Texas had been experiencing unseasonably cool weather during the previous week. Each morning I would sit on his deck and drink my coffee. The temperature had been in the 60's during the mornings. That just doesn't happen in Texas in August. The morning of the 16th was beautiful. Cool, and quiet. The stillness is one of the things I enjoyed so much about where he lived. As I sat there enjoying the coolness, I kept thinking, "this is the day the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it." Moments later, I walked back in to find that Daddy had taken his last breath in this world.

I'm struck right now at the irony of remembering the verse that was going through my head, and the night that I had just gone through with him and his passing that morning. I haven't talked about that last night much. I guess I felt it selfish to talk about about me during the time that he was dying. After 4 years, I really don't think about that night much. During this last week, though, I've been reminded in a way that caught me off guard. If you'll indulge me, I'll tell you my story.

I've always been a fan of the Olympics. I watch them contstantly when they are on. I probably enjoy the Summer Olympics most; particularly basketball and softball. As this year's Games started, I really haven't been very interested. I'm interested in knowing results, but as for watching the games non-stop I really haven't had any interest. There was something to this disinterest that I just couldn't put my finger on. A few nights ago, I realized what it was. The last time the Summer Olympics were played, daddy was dying. And I had particular memories from the night before he passed. It was startling to me making the connection. I find that, though I miss him, the intensity of that loss has lessened over the years. But this moment shook the dust off those feelings and I cried as hard as I have in 4 years. During the months before he died, I consumed myself with information about death and dying. I learned that the body and mind goes through a very predictable process when it is dying. At least with those who are terminally ill. His hospice nurse told us early in the week prior that his death would be soon. The 16th that year was on a Monday. We were blessed that up until Saturday, he was conscious much of the time, knew who everyone was and could have coherent conversations with us. That really ended on Saturday when he pretty much lost consciousness. My husband arrived late Saturday and I woke him. He knew who Wes was and said hello, but that was the last time he was awake. Late on Sunday afternoon, his body began to show signs that his death was imminent. His breathing changed..."fish out-of-water" breathing it's called. His eyes started doing weird things. We knew. All of my siblings, but one were already there. We called my other sister and she joined us. Another sister called a couple of friends from her church. Two wonderful women came and sat with us till midnight. Hospice recommended that we begin giving him morphine every 30 minutes or so. So, there we all were: sitting, giving medicine and waiting. At one point, I took his Bible and started reading scriptures. Everyone who was there chimed in with requests to read their favorite verses. We read for almost an hour. Around midnight the dear friends left and I needed some space. So, I took a shower. With 10 or so people in this small house, I figured that the shower was my only option for solitude. I took a really long shower. I expected that my brothers and sisters would take turns staying up and giving daddy the morphine (though I knew I wouldn't sleep). When I came out of the shower, though, everyone had picked a corner of the house and were asleep. So, I stayed up. I sat by his bed, gave him medicine at the right intervals, counted breathes, counted the amount of time that he didn't take a breathe...for hours. When I would feel sleepy, I would sit by a wall and play solitaire. And all the while, the same loop of Olympic coverage was playing. I couldn't find the remote or I might have changed the channel. Around 4 am, he started making some weird, loud sounds. It freaked me out, so I called hospice. Moments later, a nurse called me back...at 4 am. She told me I was doing fine, what daddy was doing was normal and that I could increase the morphine. As I side note in this story, I want to say that Hospice nurses are the walking angels on this earth. I will always remember the sweet woman that was daddy's nurse that last week, Edwina. They are some of the most loving and compassionate people I have ever been priviledged to meet. Yes, they know how to care for the dying with great dignity, but they also spend just as much time caring for the living. By sunrise, daddy had settled. His breathing was much easier. Around 10am is when he took his last breath. It was a really hard night for me. I don't know what the dying are aware of or not aware of. I hope those last hours were not spent with him knowing pain. I carried a great burden of that for a long time; wondering if i did enough for him. Those images of watching him, listening to him, counting breathes...those images stayed with me a long time. And yet, I would not have wanted it to be any different. I'm grateful to have been with him those last hours whether he knew it or not. I held his hand, and at times hummed through the songs that I would later sing at his service. I hope this this somehow made a difference.

During the months preceeding his death, I spent much time thinking about what I believe about heaven, or at least what happens to us when we die. I'm still not sure exactly what I believe. I'm not sure I believe in the "streets of gold" that my Baptist heritage would sing of. I think life, after this life, is much bigger than that. I do believe our spirit is with God, though I also believe that we are always with God. Maybe it's that we just return to our most pure and perfect state. Later that day we were at the funeral home when they finished preparing his body. I dreaded this moment and was last behind my step-mother and siblings to walk up to the casket. The instant I walked up to him though, I felt a unexplainable calm and peace that I was experiencing so often during the previous months. I took one look at him and my thought was, "This is not my daddy. He's not here." And I actually smiled. I saw a very sick body that fought a very long battle, but his spirit was no longer there.

The next day over 100 people came to his viewing. There were almost 400 at his funeral. He was well loved. It really was a celebration of a very rich life. We showed dozens of pictures while I sang 6 songs that he had chosen. He had asked a couple of other people to talk or read. He planned everything. He wanted this day to celebrate his life. "No gloom and doom," to quote him. It was a wonderful and special time. We didn't actually bury him until the next day. He is buried about 45 minutes from where I live. I'm so grateful. I go there often; including this day. Many family members came to his graveside and most shared a story about him...including a high school girlfriend!! It was a hard week. It was sad. And it was beautiful.

Thanks for listening to my long story. I'm leaving now to go to the cemetary. Each year I write a letter to him, and read it while I'm there. I t's a ritual that has brought me much comfort. I love this cemetary. It's an old hay field, really. But it's beautiful and serene. And of course, I always cook to remember him on special days. Tomorrow I'm making peach cobbler. yum!

The time has come

2008-08-01T21:28:00.010-05:00

Today is TJ's last day at home. We leave for Illinois tomorrow. Not to be melodramatic, but it just feels a little surreal right now. I can't believe how fast 4 years have gone!! My house just isn't going to be the same; I can't even imagine him not being here. I have to figure out how to cook for 2 again, instead of 3...I'm mean 4. The boy can eat! No more football games and track meets. No teenagers hanging out at my house at random times. No more teacher meetings...not going to miss that one though. LOL. And the entertainment around here goes waaaay down! TJ is a funny kid.

It's interesting timing in some respects. It took all of us a while to figure out how to live together and what our roles were. Adding to that, life here has been pretty chaotic at times and I feel incredibly guilty about that. I just pray that ultimately we have done more good for him than harm. The relationship between he and I took a while to navigate. Strong women, especially women in a position of authority hasn't always meshed well with this young male adolescent. But this last year, year and a half has been really good. And now he moves on. The impending reality has been really pressing on me this week and I've started feeling pretty sad. I wish I had more time. I worry a lot about what the future will be like for him and us. I hope he will consider this place to be his home. Though I know he has a mother, sisters, and so much other family. Everyone will want to see him, and visa versa, when he is in Texas. Selfishly, I hope we get priority! I've been thinking back to when I was 18 and leaving for Baylor. I'm sure my dad was feeling the same way I am right now. I was a punk at the time, though. I didn't go home till Thanksgiving (even though I was only an 1 1/2 hour away) I barely even called him. I wish he was around for me to apologize. My what time teaches us.

So, pray for me...all of us, I guess. TJ has quite a bit of reluctance. He has never really been away from home for very long. So, going 900 miles away is pretty daunting. And...he has a girlfriend who is staying here. He is a very engaging kid and makes friends easily. I know he'll be fine. I'm thankful that he'll have instant community by being on the football team; this will be good for him. He registers and moves in next Wednesday. There is a reception that evening for parents and students. At the conclusion, they tell parents to leave the campus. Not just leave the building, leave the campus. It's probably be best. So, we'll hit the road (with several boxes of tissue) and head toward St. Louis. The Cardinals play the Dodgers...and Manny. Sweet.

I'm sure you'll be hearing from me.

Aunt Callie

2008-07-11T12:16:00.017-05:00

I recently attended her funeral. She was 94. I grew up seeing her once or twice a year. I was lucky to have several "grandmothers" growing up. She was one of them. I remember a sweet, doting woman who was very kind and was always playing with the children.

Her service was in the small, southeast Texas town where she lived. I traveled there with an aunt and uncle, and a cousin who all live near me. Fun road trip, even considering the circumstances. My Uncle Johnny is a great storyteller. I've become more of a fan of family stories since my father passed away. I have some very interesting characters in my family! Maybe I'll share stories at a later time. I keep this entry about Aunt Callie.

The funeral was long and boring...all one hour and 20 minutes of it. There were a couple of funny moments, though. The service began with a recording of Whitney Houston's, "I Will Always Love You." This is a strange choice in and of itself. But the version that was chosen was the dance mix...4 and a half minutes long. Seriously. I heard some electronic sounds as the music started, I thought they pressed the wrong button! But it kept playing! NOT the right song for Aunt Callie. I'm not sure what my fmaily was thinking! The other funny part was watching her son, Jimmy, spit tobacco in his little cup during the whole service. He was sitting on the front row. Welcome to Devers, TX!

There was another interesting part of the service; one I had never seen before. In the program for the service, it was listed as the "Naming Ceremony." It was the reading of all the names of her children, sister/brother, grandchildren, etc. This is done at every I've funeral been to, though usually at the beginning. But there was something different about that way it was framed as the "Naming Ceremony." It just seemed to take the ordinary out of telling who her family is. For the 1st time in an hour and 15 minutes, I was paying attention. The sermon before this was stupid...another moment of manipulating people to "get them into heaven." (in my humble opinion). The song was stupid. The woman who tried to sing "Amazing Grace"...well, she was sweet. It just felt like the 1st real moment of the service. It was a moment honoring her and her legacy. I felt thankful and asked for God's blessing on the family. I was still in this space as we went to the graveside. It's a very small cemetary. Beautiful, though. I love reading grave stones and the dates. For me, there is always a deep reverence and serentity at cemetaries. I'm not quite sure why the "Naming" struck me so strongly. I thought of the book of Hebrews that speaks of the "great cloud of witnesses that surround us." The author was writing of the people of faith that have long since passed on. I think it's important to remember and honor those who have passed on. Maybe at the Aunt Callie's service I was also reminded of the importance of those who carry on a legacy today. Perhaps a reminder to me that our lives here are not lived in a vacuum. We live in communities of many different kinds. We need others. As God said, "It is not good that man should be alone." Sometimes as I write it helps me work out my own struggles; I think this is happening even in this moment. When life gets hard or overwhelming (as it is right now), I tend to isolate. I'm blessed to have so, so many friends. I'm a very rich girl. And yet I find myself choosing to deal with life all by myself at times. Isn't it amazing how gently God comes in to get our attention; even in the most unsuspecting of times and places. So, maybe today God is gently reminding me (home alone, on the computer)...encouraging me...to live my life, the easy and the hard, in the company of others.

Billy Wayne

2008-07-02T09:54:00.003-05:00

That's what his family called him. Just "daddy" to me. Today would be his 64th birthday. I've been pretty sentimental about certain days since he passed away in 2004. I do something special, or that helps me remember him on Father's Day, his birthday, and even the day he passed away. I love to cook, so I always cook some of the foods he really liked. On Father's Day, I carry an old Bible of his. It's one his parents gave him on his 12th birthday. King James version, of course. It's pretty old and beat up now, but cool to have it. Today, I'll think I'll watch a John Wayne classic, True Grit. He was a huge John Wayne fan. I remember the night it was announced that he had died. My father promptly said, "Well, it's time to the turn the TV off." I've never been a huge fan of Western movies, but it will be good today.

Daddy was a good man. One of those Texas "good ole boys." A rare and dying breed, I think. He was one of the hardest working men I've ever known. (I wish I had the work ethic!) And he would do anything for just about anyone. I feel like I knew 2 different men growing up, though. When I was a kid, I remember a very disconnected, quiet, isolated man. I remember him coming home from work everyday and he followed the same routine: eat dinner (no one talked), sit in his brown vinyl recliner and watch TV (no one talked) and then go to bed around 9:30 or so. The only other variable was that he and my mother fought constantly...that was about the only "talking" that ever happened. They divorced when I was 12. Something good happened for him as a result of that. He became an engaged, humous guy, and became intensely involved in our church. During my childhood, he rarely went to church. Something in him was tranformed, and it was very cool to watch. In the weeks prior to his death, we talked quite a bit about his marriage to my mother. It was a pretty miserable situation. My mother is an alcoholic and I think there are (or were) other mental disorders as well. I have my own difficult memories from her, but perhaps it was even more difficult as a spouse. Certainly daddy had his part in their problems. I have no intention of painting him as a saint or even a victim. As Al-Anon states, alcoholism is a family disease. It's just hard on everybody.

Hmmm, I had no idea where I was going with this entry! But welcome to my family stories! Mostly, I'm taking the time to remember a good man and give honor to my daddy.

P.S.- I'm not cooking today. I hang out with our teenagers from church every Wednesday. But! Tomorrow's menu: chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, green beans (stewed with bacon all day till they practically disintegrate!) and, of course, peach cobbler.

Spring Time

2008-06-10T10:50:00.003-05:00

This is my lovely yard in the Spring. I can't take credit for it, though. The owners before me planted this beautiful garden. Thankfully, about the only thing I have to do is turn the sprinklers on. Nonetheless, it's stunning from about May till July. It's one of my favorite things about my home.

Mission Accomplished!!

2008-06-06T09:35:00.003-05:00

TJ is a graduate!! Graduation was last Friday night. I can't tell you how proud I felt. I was able to stop all my busyness about half-way through the day and be present...I just wept. And I cried off and on through the whole ceremony. I know every parent feels proud at this moment, I just think my kid is extra special! LOL! Thankfully, his mom and many other family members came. They also came to our house the next day for the party. I was very happy for him that they came. I was worried that some might not cross "cultural boundaries"...to be politically sensitive. And the party? Well, if I say so myself...it was a smashing hit!! Food, music, and everything was ready on time! We had about 80 poeple come by throughout the day. It was so much fun and TJ felt very honored. And he so deserves that. Friends and family were so generous with gifts...and now he's learning the fine art of ThankYou notes! He thinks I'm out of my mind for this!

I've said this before, I'll trust that God will continue blessing my life with beautiful people, experiences, and abundance. But I don't know if I will ever feel more blessed and humbled than to be a part of this young man's life. I grew up singing a very simple song. I hear it and feel it very deeply in my heart today

God is so good,

He's so good to me.

Babies!

2008-05-26T08:16:00.004-05:00

They're here!

And bless their hearts, they're about the ugliest things I've ever seen! There were still six eggs when I left for church yesterday morning, but when I got back 4 had hatched! One more egg hatched this morning; still one left. I'm so facinated by this! I watched the mamma and pappa birds bring food yesterday and feed them. So, cool. But that's not all...we also have a little family of cardinals now feeding on one of my feeders. They're actually returning guests. The cardinal babies are not very pretty either, but I have fun watching both the male and female feed their babies. And...I have baby squirrels! I saw them yesterday in one of our big oak trees. These guys are very cute! I just have a little nursery around here. Spring is awesome.

On another note, we talked about being stuck yesterday at church. Interesting topic for me right now. In some ways, I do feel very stuck. And yet, there is so much change; so much in motion. Pastor talked about Jacob and his wrestling with God. It left a mark...but, as his name says, "and he lived." Feeling stuck is frustrating for me, but I wonder that sometimes I call being stuck just resistance to being still. Maybe? Being still is where I find clarity, direction, serenity. I know this and yet I don't stop very easily sometimes. Guess I'm stubborn?!

And a good reason to not be still? Graduation is in 4 days! And a big ole' party on 5. I'm off now to get ready for about 80 poeple in my home, including cooking 20 lbs. of fajita meat, 5 gallons of charro beans and 3 cakes!

New houseguest

2008-05-20T07:32:00.006-05:00

I have a new friend who's taken up residence in my house. Check her out....

Can you see her? It's a Carolina Wren; she's in the middle of the picture. She's built a nest in my potted Salvia that sits on my balcony. She and , I suppose the pappa bird, built the nest about a week and a half ago. I just happened to catch them..it was facinating. It took them all afternoon, but they built this perfectly round nest. I just think this is amazing! The nest laid empty for a few days, and then one day there were 3 eggs! For the next 3 days, there a one new egg every day. Supposedly, gestation is about 12-15 days. I've noticed the mama bird is spending more time there, so i expect to have 6 little babies any day now!

On another note, Tj is graduating in 10 days!! This is his last full week of classes. He's so excited! We got his official acceptance to Quincy University a couple of weeks ago. That was the final straw in his mounting apathy toward high school. He's done. All he wants to do is go fishing! I'm so proud of him I could burst! We're throwing a big party for him the day after graduation. I'm ridiculously swamped in my "To-Do" list. We have about 60 people coming for a fajita lunch, and another 30 or so coming for an Open House afterwards. I love to cook and host...but I've never done it for this many people! I'm a little nervous, but I'm getting lots of Spring Cleaning done!

To continue my bragging about TJ, here's a picture of the handsome young man and his girlfriend. Prom was a couple of weeks ago...they looked so great!

Purple elephants

2008-04-29T12:09:00.005-05:00

The title has absolutely nothing to do with this blog. Giving a title to my blabbing most often eludes me. Today, for some odd reason, those are the words that first darted across my mind.

Anyway, I was in a Bible Study recently where the lady leading the discussion asked the group, "Can you be happy and still be doing the right thing?" My immediate response (to myself) was, "yes." Others responded out loud with "yes-es" and "no-s." The leader, ask a few more questions and then talked about how she believes that you can't. I didn't catch much of her reason, I was too immersed in my own thoughts. There are some areas of my life right now that just don't make me happy. Yet, I do believe that I'm in the right place. When I started my blog, my intention was for it to be anonymous. But now, people I know tell me all the time that they've read my blog. It's kind of cool, but it also makes a difference at times what I write. Today, out of respect for others, I'll be general. But let me just say that relationships are hard. Or at least, I certainly seem to make some hard!! Alas. I'm told, and I believe, that others can be a very good mirror for our own lives. What you see in others...those things that push your buttons; behaviors that annoy you...is really a reflection of yourself. This really sucks. I seem to be annoyed frequently these days. So, I'm getting the chance to see things about myself that deserve some work. Or maybe that's just a question. If I'm being given the opportunity to pull back the veil on my stuff, then isn't this the right place to be? But I'm not very happy. For me all this pyscho-babble begs the question...."when is other people's stuff just their stuff and it's got nothing to do with me?" Some of my circumstances right now remind me of experiences from childhood. The short story is that I'm a child of an alcoholic; a rageful alcoholic. If my life right now is repeating (even to some extent) experiences from back then...then it really is about my stuff and not another person. Yes? Today is helping me work through the past? Or when are other people just toxic? I don't play arm-chair Shrink very well. When all these questions start swirling in my head, I get overwhelmed. Better said, I become paralyzed; numb. "My head hurts and I dont' want to think about this anymore."

Happy Tuesday everyone!! Hah, hah. Not a very upbeat entry, but this is where I am today, so this is what you get!!

Frivolity

2008-04-04T09:34:00.015-05:00

I've been working countless hours in my yard the last 2 weeks. The previous owners of our home invested in some wonderful landscaping. I inherited lots of beauty AND lots of work. So far, I've moved 55 bags of mulch, trimmed a dozen bushes (with power tools even....yeah!) and pulled approximately a zillion weeds. I'm not done. It will all be worth it, though. In a matter of weeks, I will have a plethora of lovely flowers. I'll post pictures.

But yesterday, I took the day off. I puttered around town after an appointment doing various stuff. The pictures I've posted are a few momentos from my day. The picture on the top left is from a tire store that's been in business here forever. I've always thought their slogan was hilarious. The picture right beside it is the marque of a local men's club. I refuse to call it a "gentleman's" club. I loathe these places, but the sign was funny and sadly, probably true. The picture at the bottom is my favorite. It's from inside my bank. I probably would be arrested if anyone saw me taking this picture but I HAD to. On the left of the picture is a door to the lobbby with a security key pad. A sign is nearby saying something about entering a security code. The funny part is the OPEN corridor just to the right. I've looked....I've looked hard...many times...there is no gate, no door...NOTHING! I guess it's possible there are infrared "Mission Impossible" death rays, or maybe the secret security gate is just invisible to the naked eye...and the unsuspecting bank robber. Maybe. So...the locked door with the security keypad next to the wide open doorway... both leading to the same lobby. That's just too funny.

Enjoy!

May I have this Dance please?

2008-03-20T09:12:00.004-05:00

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-HOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

It's March Madness , baby! The Big Dance! It all starts today...in 2 hours and 15 minutes. I love college basketball, so this is my favorite time of year. It's almost better than Christmas. And this year my Baylor Bears made the tourney! Those guys have had a long, road the last few years and they've come back! I always play a little bracket challenge with some buddies. It's fun to see how many picks you can lose during the first 2 rounds! Overall, I've picked the University of North Carolina to win the whole thing. If you need me over the next 3 weekends, I'll be right in front of the TV watching non-stop basketball!

Arggh.

2008-03-19T14:59:00.017-05:00

I can't seem to find much time to write these days and that frustrates me. So, here's a couple of blurbs about my retreat last month. The lovely picture of the iris is beautiful enough to just share, but it's also a little shout out to my blogger friend, Endlessly Restless. He often posts his wonderful photograhy. In my last post I mentioned the Stations of The Cross at the retreat center where I stayed. Each of the 14 crosses had iris planted around them. Only one bulb was blooming a month ago. I'm sure by now the bulbs are in full bloom; it must be stunning.

The other photograph is my own art work. I know it looks like a 4 year old did it, but...it's mine! It reflects this "excavation" work I've been doing. And work that I hope I will always do. There are so many layers to the story of my life. Every layer is filled goodness...treasures...gold nuggests to be found. The recognition of many of these don't necessarily require mining. I guess I'm aware enough to recognize some blessings as they occur! Others, though, have required some work; a different perspective; hind-sight. Either way, it is evidence of God's presence.

I'm back!

2008-02-29T09:33:00.007-06:00

Hello friends! I've actually been back for about a week. Life has just been a little hectic. My retreat was wonderful. I had 3 full days of being totally off the grid. After about 27 hours I began to feel pretty restless for awhile and wondered if I would make it another 48 hours! I was also fasting. So, I was having withdrawals and hunrgy at the same time! It made it though. It was an amazing experience to having silence, total silence, for such an extended time. It's amazing what you see and hear when you turn everything off. Did you know that trees "creak" when the wind blows? Who knew?!

The retreat center was gorgeous. The picture is of the labyrinth there. I walked it everyday. I had a mixture of beautful sunshine with cool winds, and rain on one day. I loved it all. In the days to come, I will tell you more about what I did, learned and discovered. For today, you can go to this link: http://thecorner.typepad.com/journeylent/2008/02/forgiveness.html

My faith community has a blog for Lent and today was my turn to post.

Enjoy!

Questions

2008-02-12T10:19:00.000-06:00

I turned 39 last October, so I’m in the middle of my 40th year…as my blogger friend, npp (http://nonprofitprophet.blogspot.com/), was so kind to remind me of recently. Forty years is mentioned in the Bible quite bit. Most notably by Israelites wandering (for 40 years) and Jesus fighting with the devil. Neat.

I’m intrigued by questions right now. For a few years now, I’ve been reading Simple Abundance by Sarah Ban Breathnach. I love this book. It’s a daily devotional book. Every time I read it, the entry for each day is new to me. She begins the year by asking questions. Until now, these parts of the daily entries didn’t catch my attention. They are this time. She poses questions like: “What do you need to be truly happy?” “What truly matters to you when no one is watching?” “If one year from now you could be living the most fulfilling, creative, joyous life you could imagine, what would it be? And what would have to change in you for that to happen?” What is the sadness in your heart that you cannot name?” What do you truly believe about yourself as a woman, wife, daughter, employee…?”

I find myself, today, wanting to answer these questions more deeply than what is really comfortable. Answering most questions like this require one more question for me, “Why?” And then asking again, “Why?” I can make changes: change what I’m doing or how I’m doing it, start something, or stop something. Yet, I feel restless to go beyond “just doing something different." I’m drawn to really look at my beliefs about myself. “What is it I truly believe about the girl in the mirror?” I’m a pretty well put-together person, I’m funny, I make good impressions, I’m generally nice…all those things are genuine. Yet, I’ve always struggled to…well, put on a show. I’m a singer…I like an audience and I’ve learned to handle a crowd well. That performance seeking, though, spilled over into all parts of my life years and years ago. I’ve been to plenty of groups and plenty of therapists. I’m much better than I used to be. Yet, I still know that I would much rather present someone who is happy and has their shit together, than one who struggles and cries. The bigger problem, though, is that I get caught up in my own story sometimes and forget to even be honest with myself. It’s not intentional…it’s just unconscious. Living life on auto-pilot. This is not a good thing for me. Life has given many wonderful blessings over the last few years and I’m so grateful. But the other truth is that life has been really, really hard and painful. There are things to grieve. I learned from losing my father that grief is a process. For awhile, the shock of his passing helped me just do day to day life. Then one day, that shock began to wear off and I began to feel the reality of that loss. Perhaps it is no different with the rest of my life. Perhaps, I am beginning to awaken. This is good. I am truly thankful for this place I’m in that is hard. And it seems hard at times to even name or define. I’ve come to believe that struggles and pain have purpose and it is good. Not that God places those things in my life to teach me something…that’s bullshit. God is just present and nothing is an accident.

For a few months I’ve been wanting to go away for retreat…all by myself. Between schedules and procrastination it just hasn’t happened….until now. I leave in exactly 6 days. I cannot wait. I can hardly contain my excitement! No computer, no phone, no TV, no one…just me, my questions, a mirror and God.

TJ is going to college!

2008-01-23T10:43:00.000-06:00

For over a month, TJ has been bombarded by colleges who are interested in him for football. Almost daily, he gets a call from someone that says, “We really want you.” How cool is that?! It would make anyone feel good, but it certainly does to an 18 year old young man! It’s been fun for all of us. Last week, he visited a little Franciscan founded Catholic school in Illinois. One of his teammates and a coach made the trip together. He had a blast. He met all the coaches, a few players, went to a basketball game, and was treated to a big ‘ole steak dinner. They made him a great offer; about 95%. This private school’s yearly tuition is about $28, 000. We’re pretty happy about 95% scholarship! We talked all weekend and Monday night had a long talk with the coach that traveled with him. Yesterday he made a verbal commitment to be a Quincy University Hawk! (http://www.quincy.edu/) He is so excited! I have a ton of mixed feelings. I’m absolutely excited for him. I’m realizing that the clock is ticking on his time left at home. August 5 will be here before we know it. And he'll be 851.07 miles away...according to Mapquest. Ugh...I was really hoping for a Texas school.

I'm also immensely proud of him. He has worked so hard at school and yesterday he brought home his sememster report card...all A's except for one 88. This is the 1st time ever for so many A's. It's always been a mix of B's an C's with an occassional A. We are receiving many letters of recommendation from teachers and coaches. I cry each time a read a letter. His teachers love him and clearly have much respect for him. Four or five years ago, this was definitely NOT the case...barely passsing any class, always in trouble for fighting, teachers did not even want him in their class. Over the last four years he has completley tranformed. It's amazing and I'm deeply humbled. Inviting him to live with us was one of those things we KNEW God was asking us to do and we KNEW we just had to say yes. I'll take no credit for all this young man has become and is becoming. It is God; it is the power of love. I'm humbled, honored and just so grateful to be right in the middle of this. I hope I live a long, long life experiencing the many blessings that are to come. Yet, this may be one of the greatest things I've ever done or been a part of. Wow.

New Year's Camping

2008-01-11T09:49:00.000-06:00

I'm finally getting back to a normal "before Christmas" routine. I love Christmas, travelling, seeing my family...but it has a life of it's own. It's fun for awhile, but I'm feeling more settled now that everyday life is back to it's usual pattern. I'm still catching up on stuff...like downloading tons of pictures from the holidays. I thought I would share a little family outing with you.

We decided it would be fun to go camping during the holidays. Great idea. We all love to camp; TJ loves to fish. We finally got our act together and decided to go on New Year's Eve. What a fun way to spend NYE', right? None of us are wild and crazy party people, so this was a good fit for us. So myself, my husband, TJ and his girlfrind went to Inks Lake State Park. A really beautiful park in the Hill Country on the banks of the Colorado River. However...it was going to be below freezing that night. We knew this and went anyway. I dont' know why. I'm a native Texan; I don't do cold very well. I love camping, but I probably won't go in January again! By 9:30 that night, my little toes were numb...for real. Nevertheless, we had a good time. We roasted marshmallows, fished and stared at the stars. For me, few things are better than star gazing far, far away from city lights. We also watched scary movies...in pitch dark. Pretty fun! We survived the night, barely, and woke to a gorgeous morning. The park has beautiful trails along the river and we took advantage of those before heading home.

Though I was miserably cold at times, it was time well spent as a family. I'm mindful of taking advantage these times before TJ leaves for college. The clock is ticking on the time he has left here. Those are thoughts for another day, though. Great way to start 2008!

Happy New Year

2008-01-02T13:53:00.000-06:00

Life has seasons; or at least I think there are in my life. For the past couple of months or so, I seem to be in a place that…it’s been hard to describe. I’m not particularly motivated towards anything; generally low-key emotionally but easily frustrated and impatient, introspective but no action taken from my discoveries…ugh…like I said, hard to describe. Kind of stuck, I suppose. There are many things I enjoy, I laugh, have fun, throw parties…yet somehow disconnected.

I had lunch with a friend just before Christmas. She talked of her “seasons.” I heard of this idea before, but never really looked at my own life. If I take a look at my life over 39 years, I can see a pattern of big life events that happen during the last few months of the year. My father’s death, the downfall of my first marriage, career changes (or lay-offs), my parents divorce…to name a few. But there have been good things as well: my father’s wedding to his 2nd wife, my graduation from Baylor, getting engaged. A therapist I see from time to time talks of how the body holds memories. So..."What memories does my body remember during this time of year?" This idea intrigues me. And yet, I wonder that my current “state” is the result of work being extremely slow. I’m a total commission sales person. So, it’s a scary, frustrating and boring time. I’m also dealing with some really hard work in my marriage. One that continues to remind me the chaotic home I grew up in. Just those two things are pretty big. It makes sense that those situations alone would be enough to make an introvert crawl into her shell. So…is it choice A or choice B? Or choice C…all of the above? I've always hated multiple choice questions. I guess I want reasons or answers…so I can fix this and move on. It’s frustrating. Intellectually, I know that down times have their purpose. It’s sometimes just hard to accept. Nature has its seasons. Autumn and Winter are necessary. Stillness and dormancy have their purpose. I feel drawn to explore this time; yet I draw in very close to myself. Which, I suppose, it why I haven’t been blogging.

Not a very upbeat New Year’s message! But I’ve missed writing; I'mmaking myself sit and write today! Everyone is gone today and my home is quiet for the 1st time in a month; makes it easier to do some things that are just for me. Thanks for listening.

Meet my new nephew!!

2007-11-09T09:22:00.000-06:00

Ezekiel Jordan Elrod...aka Zeke.

Born November 5 at 6:11pm. He was 7 lbs., 7 oz. and 20 inches long.

Yeah!!

Cute, cute, cute

2007-11-02T14:39:00.000-05:00

This just made my day. It's the sweetest thing I've seen in a long time. I'm crying.

Watch "Little Girl and Psalm 23":

http://www.godtube.com/view_video?viewkey=9e7c4b40cf5a13cea6ca

Cowboy Church and heaven

2007-10-29T21:42:00.000-05:00

The other night I decided to attend a church service at a Cowboy Church. If you've never heard of them...the name is self-explanatory and they are pretty common around here. I just wanted to go somewhere where people didn't know me. I figured a church was better than I bar, so I went. These churches tend to be pretty fundamental and traditional as far as Bible Belt theology goes. I grew up with good 'ole Southern Baptist fundamentalism, but it's not where I am anymore. I believe growing up in that enviroment laid a beautiful foundation for my life. But simply put, I've moved on. So I knew what to expect and boy they didn't disappoint! The best part was the band. They were a toe-tappin' group with a fiddle and steel guitar. About 20 minutes into the (instrumental) music, the pastor walked in and the whole audience stood up....like the President was walking in or something. He led the singing, although most of what he sang were songs he wrote. He had a southern drawl as thick as molassas and his sermon was more about the devil than God. My favorite illustration was something about "gettin' yur britches tore on the barbed-wire fence of life." Pretty damn funny. After I had been there awhile, I really began to question myself as to why I wanted to spend my evening in this place. Guess I chalk it up to one of those unexplainable lapses of common sense. But it was a beautiful evening here in the Hill Country....at least that much I enjoyed.

I did come away with a reminder of one of the crown jewels of Christianity...Heaven. I wrestled with this a lot when my father was dying..."what is it really?" I was taught growing up that it was the "place you go when you die," and " the place where God lives." It was about "eternal life." It's about getting through this life in such a way (being saved) as to receive our "eternal reward." In short, I don't really believe that anymore. At this church, there were a lot of songs about Heaven. They cheered when the pastor spoke of "going to be with Jesus." As I looked around the audience my thought was, "What is it about this life that makes us want to focus so much on "the next life? " Is it that we see this life, or rather experience this life, with only pain and suffering? I have never really understood this part of Christian theology. It doesn't make sense that Jesus came to teach people to love only for the purpose of getting into heaven. Where did we get this "saved" stuff anyway? Go read your Bible, people. It's NOT there. Jesus said "I came to give life abundantly." I know life can be hard. My life is a fucking tornado right now. Ugh. But I also believe that God is with me right now. I don't have to wait to get to heaven to experience that total presence. And I dont' believe that I just have to suffer through this life until I die.

If you like Christian music close you ears...I'm about to slam one of Christian music's prized jewels. I like the band Mercyme; they've got some good tunes. But their big hit, "I Can Only Imagine" is a bit problematic for me. Here's a few lyrics:

I can only imagine
what it will be like
when I walk by your side

I can only imagine
what my eyes will see
when your face is before me

Surrounded by your glory
what will my heart feel?
Will I dance before your Jesus, or in awe of you be still
Will I stand in your presence or to my knees will I fall.........

I can only imagine
when all I will do
is forever, forever worship you.

Perhaps Mercyme wasn't writing about Heaven. But at least that seems to be the way people hear this song. It's like Christians (in general) seem to live with the belief of "It's going to be so great when we all get to heaven and worship God; see God; be in awe, etc." Ugh...hello? Do it now. What are you waiting for? God doesn't reside in a galaxy far, far away. He, she, it...is here now. With us when we cook our family meals, listen to a hurting friend, watch mindless TV, go to church, or go to work. God is present always, everywhere, now. I've read that the Quaker tradition regarded everything about their lives as being sacred. God was in everything: plowing the fields, sewing or praying. That's how I want to live my life. Aware of the presence of God all the time. It's idealistic. But it's my heart's desire. I just don't think we have to just endure this life before we get the really good stuff.

Life

2007-10-03T14:10:00.000-05:00

First things first…Georgetown beat Cedar Park last week 28-6! This was a HUGE win. G’town has never beaten CP. And our resident star running back scored, yet again, 3 touchdowns! We’re having so much fun right now it’s ridiculous! The district we’re in is one of the toughest in the state. Starting district play with a win was BIG, BIG , BIG!! This week we play Pflugerville on their turf. It will be a barn-burner. I’ll let you know what happens!

Next, October 1 was my birthday. I share the same birthday with Julie Andrews….
I think this is very cool. Please send me, or Julie, your celebratory greetings.

Now… onto bigger life stuff…

I love teenagers. Since my freshman year at Baylor, I’ve been involved in the Youth Ministry of whatever church I’ve attended. I’m not really sure where this affinity for adolescents came from; maybe it’s from my own experience as a teenager. My parents divorced when I was in the 8th grade. After spending a few really long months with my mother, I went to live with my dad. Dad did a great job, though he had much help. There were many good people at my church who took me under their wing and helped raise me, along side my dad and grandparents. I’ve always been immensely grateful for all those people: Theresa, Kim, Don, Mark, Vicki and so, so many more. Perhaps I’ve always felt like investing in teenagers is my way of honoring those people and God for being there for me. Whatever the reason, I think teenagers are fun and cool and I like hanging out with them. Over the years, I’ve spent many hours talking to, mostly girls, about the stuff going on in their lives: the boys they like, the boys they did like, parents, not fitting in…you know, the typical teenage stuff. I mostly listen. I’m better at that than giving any kind of counsel or advice. Recently, I’ve encountered a not so typical situation with a couple of students I know. To cut to the chase: they are 18, still in high school, dating and she’s pregnant. I know this happens all the time, but after more than 20 years of hanging with teenagers it’s the 1st time for kids I know and love. Even now, 2 weeks after hearing the news, I’m still reeling. They are obviously devasted and don’t know what is the right thing to do. Duh. Both of them are talking to different colleges, pursing scholarships, applying for grants…all the things you normally do as a Senior. I know one of these young people better than the other and I’m being asked, “What should I do?” “Oh, shit. Please don’t ask me,” is what’s going through my head. Abortion is a consideration for them. They just don’t see how they can keep the baby and still live out the next 4-5 years like they’ve been planning. And yet, it’s a baby; a little human. What would you tell your kid in this situation??? I hate this issue because I’m not really sure what I believe. Well, that’s not really true…I believe in life. And I believe this decision is one for individuals and not for the government. So, I’m pro-life and pro-choice. It’s not a black and white issue for me. My long-time good friend, pastor and youth minister for zillions of years says the question is (on the issue of abortion), “How is life, all of life, honored and revered?” For these kids, keeping the baby certainly gives reverence and honor to the life of the baby. But does it give revereance and honor to the lives of these 2 students? They tried to practice safe sex and something went wrong. Does one accident justify giving up their dreams for college? Does keeping the baby honor all the hard work they’ve been doing for years to even have the opportunity to go to college? At least one of these kids is doing something no one in her family has ever done. No one in her family has even graduated from high school, much less go to college. She was hell-on-wheels when she was younger: constantly in trouble, failing school…she’s making her way out of all that; she’s breaking a cycle. Does it honor life to give all of that up? Yes, they could both go to work for a few years and go back to school later. Maybe this is God’s plan for their life, as some of my theologically conservative friends would say. Well, for all the questions and struggles these young people will not get to make the decision for themselves. The decision has been made for them by one set of parents. The abortion happened yesterday and both young people are immensely sad. I’m not sure that either one of them would say this isn’t the route they would have taken if given the choice, but they are still sad. And so am I. The young man is pretty open and wanting to talk. She isn’t talking so much right now. I’m really concerned for her; I just can’t imagine being in her shoes. She left school early yesterday afternoon to go to the doctor and she went right back to school this morning. Their lives go on. One of the things I’ve told them is that there is loss of life to be grieved…and it must be grieved. If they had kept he baby, they would have needed to grieve the life they have been planning and dreaming for. Instead they must grieve the loss of human life.

For the traditional church system I grew up in, my beliefs about abortion don’t really follow party lines. But maybe they are right. Maybe abortion for any reason is just wrong, after all you are killing a life. Ugh…it just seems so much more complex than that. And I’ve seen that complexity in the eyes of these amazing young adults. I wonder, though, that making a decision whether to keep the baby or not is actually the easiest part of this whole deal. Dealing with grief is hard, hard work.

It’s difficult to be concise with my thoughts and condense hours of conversations. And perhaps this isn't even an appropriate forum. But here I am. I’ve had several conversations with these kids and few trusted friends of mine. Hopefully, something I’ve said to the teenagers will somehow be helpful. The conversations with my friends have been good to get all the thoughts out of my head, though I’m not sure it really makes any of this any easier or clearer. And now, I’m telling all of you. I’m interested to hear what you think. Bottom line…this whole thing just really sucks.

A Question...and a requested update!

2007-09-17T21:30:00.000-05:00

I was visting with a friend the other day. She goes to one of the big mega-Baptist churches in town. Great girl; my age; very fun. And she is steeped in the fundamentalism I grew up with. The Bible, for her, is a literal account of people, places and events. Our conversation mostly revolved around her telling me what the Bible says about God; quoting scriptures the way I used to be able to. At some point during the hour or so we talked I thought, "Why is it that the church seems to rely soley on what the Bible says about God?" I like the Bible. I like the stories. I read about some facinating people and great events in their lives. Their stories seem to be timeless and I can relate to or learn from them. But...I don't believe (at least today) that every story is exactly the way modern man has translated an ancient language. Maybe some of the stories never really happened. I realize that I'm speaking heresay for some folks. I'm probably going to straight to hell. Oh, well. I like what Rob Bell says in his book, Velvet Elvis. "It's not that these stories happened, but that they happen." So, why does the Bible have to be the end all, be all for God? What about other great men and women through history who had just as great a faith as Abraham, Isaac or King David. Can't we learn about God from them, too? Maybe we do, but they don't seem to get the same credibility as Paul. Is this a dumb question? Maybe just an ignorant question? I'm certainly not a scholar nor do I have any formal education to speak very intelligently on the Bible and it's history. I'm just curious.

On another note, an Eagle update has been requested! TJ has played 2 games since I last posted scores. I can report one loss (sadly) and one win. TJ had great games both weeks. During one game he had just under 100 yards. During last week's game he didn't have many yards, but he had 3 touchdowns! YeeHaw!! We have the week off while we get ready for District play. Get ready Timberwolves...here we come!

Friday Night Lights, part 2

2007-09-01T23:08:00.000-05:00

After a 1 1/2 hour rain delay, we finally played football. At Midnight the last whistle blew. The final score:

Georgetown 24
San Antonio Alamo Heights 21

Yeah Eagles!!

Oh, and by the way...TJ, among his many great moments throughout the night, ran for an 80 yard touchdown. HAH! I'm so proud.

Friday Night Lights!

2007-08-31T08:56:00.000-05:00

It's football season! In addition to exciting College games and the beloved Sunday football, High School football is on the schedule this year. We have a great kid and an amazing athlete who lives with us. Tonight is the season opener! Go Eagles! It's kind of a long story, but TJ came to live with my husband and I right before our wedding 3 years ago. Basically, we got married and had an adolescent! Not the order most folks work with, but it's been good. We don't have any formal kind of custody through the courts or anything. We're just helping him out. I have a younger brother, but by the time I was 12, my mom and dad were divorced and we lived with different parents. So, I had never been around teenage boys...at least in my home. At times it's been difficult. If you're the parent of a teenager, I don't have to explain any of the challenges. On top of all the "normal" stuff, we've dealt with cultural differences, too. I've joked that we are our own little reality show: Two middle-aged, middle-class, white newlyweds and a black, ghetto, male adolescent. I promise you, it's been very entertaining here at times! Despite all of the times that have been hard, there are so many great things and it gets better all the time. It is a wonderful blessing to have this young man in my home. He is really growing up to be an amazing person. Not that he hasn't always been great, but...well, you know what I mean. He's funny, he's thoughtful, he cleans his room...I could go on and on. He turned 18 this month. He started his Senior year this week. I can hardly believe it! Three years have gone by so fast! TJ is also a fantastic athlete. He's a great football player, but his love is track. And he is soooo fast! It's very exciting to watch him run. The plan is to run track in college. So, we're talking to colleges and coaches praying that he can get a scholarship somewhere. This time next year, he'll be gone and attending college. Ughh...thank goodness I have a few months to get ready for that!

So, raise you glasses...here's to a great kid...I mean a fine young man, a winning season, and a memorable Senior year! And thanks to God for blessing my life with this young man.

Banana Pudding

2007-08-22T11:26:00.000-05:00

My daddy had great taste in desserts: blackberry cobbler, peach cobbler, cherry pie, almost any kind of ice cream. But I'm pretty sure his favorite was banana pudding. During the last few weeks of his life, he was at home with hospice care. The amazing people of FBC Weatherford brought us 3 meals a day for almost 6 weeks. It was a Baptist potluck everyday. I don't know about other denominations, but Southern Baptists are great cooks. One day I was looking for a snack; when I opened the refrigerator door I saw 3 bowls of homemade banana pudding! Clearly, the wonderful ladies from church knew what he liked. None of those bowls went to waste I assure you.

So, this weekend I made some for me...and my family. (Mostly for me.) If you're from the South, you already know that this is a traditional Southern dessert. The great debate, however, is...hot or cold? I've never met a banana pudding that I didn't like, but THE BEST way to eat banana pudding is warm. No questions. You're certainly welcome to weigh in on the great debate. Just know that there is only one right answer.

Here's my favorite recipe:

1/3 cup all-purpose flour

Dash of salt

2 1/2 cups whole milk

1 (14-ounce) can sweetened condensed milk

2 egg yolks

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

4 (or so) sliced ripe bananas

Vanilla wafers

4 egg whites

1/4 cup sugar

Combine flour and salt in a medium saucepan. Gradually stir in milks and yolks, and cook over medium heat, stirring constantly until thickened. Remove from heat; stir in vanilla.

Start with a layer of wafers in the bottom of a 2-qrt baking dish. Arrange banana slices on top. Spoon about half of pudding mixture over bananas. Repeat the layer of wafers, bananas and pudding. Then I like to arrange wafers around inside edge of dish.

Beat egg whites at high speed with an electric mixer until foamy. Add sugar, 1 tablespoon at a time, beating until stiff peaks form and sugar dissolves. Spread meringue over pudding, sealing to edge of dish.

Bake at 325° for 25 minutes or until golden. Please eat warm with a big glass of cold milk.

Enjoy!

Remembering Billy

2007-08-14T23:23:00.000-05:00

This week is the 3rd anniversary of my father’s death. I don’t feel the emotional intensity of grief that I did for so long. But I miss him terribly. As much acceptance as I have, at some level it still just doesn’t seem right that he’s gone. He was only 60 and truly one of the best people on the planet. A “good ol’ boy” cowboy. Everyone loved him. Ugh…these are the things in life that will never make sense.
Not to brag or anything, but I have dealt with this loss as well as anyone I know. I don’t know why; it’s just been that way. He died of cancer and we knew months before he died that his time was short. The grieving process began long before he ever left this life. Some of what I do to remember is cook his favorite food on his birthday, Father’s Day and this anniversary. I’m not cooking chicken fried steak today, but I am about to go eat one at Monument Café. It’s one of the best in Central Texas. However, I will make banana pudding. I read my journal from that summer. I look through photo albums and watch videos. I just remember. Daddy was buried Bell Falls Cemetary; a family cemetary in the middle of an old hay field. It’s an amazingly quiet and peaceful place. I love to go there. My tradition is to write Daddy a letter and read it at his grave. I “catch him up” on my life and our family’s over the last year. I believe that he already knows, but it’s been a very healing thing for me to do. After I’ve read it, I burn it and then bury the ashes. On the way home, I’ll have lunch at this small mom and pop restaurant…the fried catfish is awesome.
I’m a fan of “Grey’s Anatomy.” Last season George’s father died. After he died, George and Christina had this conversation:

Christina, “There’s this thing called the Dead Dad’s Club. You can’t be in it until you’re in it. I’m sorry you’re in it.”
George, “I don’t know how to live on this earth without my father.”
Christina, “Yeah, that (feeling) never changes.

Ugh…they’re both right. Life just isn’t the same and it seems like I’ll always feel a void.
Watching my father die was the hardest experiences that I’ve ever had. I still shutter when I remember some moments: like sitting up with him all night his last night alive giving him morphine. Even still, I will hold that event in my life as one of the greatest times of blessing. The list is long of the many things I have to be grateful for during that time, but not the least of which is the opportunity to say goodbye. I also came to know, really know, what it means to accept life as it comes to you and to be grateful. I came to a point in his illness where I could no longer pray for him to be healed and believe in that prayer. But what I could believe in was that God was and would continue to be present in whatever happened. So, I prayed for myself, my family and my father to know that presence and that it would bring us comfort. Somehow in the midst of that I was given a gift…a gift of peace that Paul talks about in Philippians 4:7. It’s inexplicable and a mystery. That verse also says that peace will “guard your heart and mind.” That has been my experience. God gave me a peace that guarded my heart against anger, resentment, bitterness….any of which would have been perfectly reasonable. Instead what I could focus on was being grateful for every moment I had with him.

It’s hard to contain my thoughts and feelings into something short and concise. Hopefully I haven’t rambled too terribly. Today I’m just telling my story and remembering…its a good thing.

I'm back

2007-08-07T17:49:00.000-05:00

My intentions were so lofty…one blog per week. I didn’t think that was such a big feat. I was wrong. Yes, I’ve been extremely busy. When one works on commission being busy is a good thing. I think my absence runs a little deeper than the calendar. I just don’t think I have much to say, which is why I didn’t start a blog before now. I learn stuff, I have events in my life that I need to process, I’ve done some cool stuff in the last few months…but surely no one cares to read my ramblings. This is the stuff that goes on inside my head. But it’s those thoughts that I think are showing me an even deeper answer; one that seems to resonate as Truth but I would rather not really go there. Sitting in church a couple of weeks ago, I began to realize how disconnect from community I’ve become. I love my church, but for various reasons, I don’t go much in the last several months. That’s ramblings for another day. I lead the Youth at my church, but once Bible Study is over, I usually leave. I miss the community; I miss interacting with my friends. When I do stay, I sit in the back by myself. I recognize this most starkly at church, but when I consider the rest of my life I seem to be doing the same in other places…work and even home. I’m there; I talk to people; I’m involved in social things…sometimes. A lot of the time, I’m just by myself. Even when I am with others I often just feel detached. I’ve been depressed before, but this isn’t depression. I think it’s what happens when you don’t nurture your soul. I pray, I write, I prepare Bible Studies; I have a regular morning devotional ritual…do you see it? I do. I do this, I do that. I do a lot of good things; even for other people. I can see that my morning ritual is habit; it’s a good habit. I’m not sure, though, that it is time spent really being still, just listening…being aware of my soul. One of the books I read every morning is Sarah Ban Breathnach’s, Simple Abundance; A Day Book of Comfort and Joy. I love this book; she’s awesome. On August 1, she quoted Amercian Buddist, Jack Kornfield saying. “We must make certain that our path is connected with our heart.” That feels right for me…I think I’ve been traveling without my heart. I guess you can do good things without your heart being engaged, but I’m realizing it is leaving me feeling empty…and lazy…without vision…without passion. So, I’m making efforts to do some things differently. Changing routines, making dates with myself to do things I love (I got this brilliant idea from Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way), but mostly trying to just be still and quiet. This is hard right now, but at least I’m aware and hopefully making baby steps. It’s good to be here and writing today.

God has blonde hair...

2007-04-29T21:38:00.000-05:00

And He giggles. Trinity Grace turned 2 on April 5. Her older sister, Faith Ryan turned 4 today. And today was their birthday party. I adore my nieces and obviously, they adore me. Trinity and I swang (swinged, swung??? I didnt' do well in English, I'm a musician)...we sat in a swing together for half an hour. Blissful. One of the cool things about kids is that in order to play with them you have to be in the moment. I loose track of time, and I forget about all the "stuff." Maybe this just happens when you are the Auntie visiting for the weekend. Probably. Nonetheless, it was a good reminder and I hope I'll remember those giggles the next time I get too serious about life.

Prayer

2007-04-22T19:47:00.000-05:00

When I started this blog, my goal was to write once a week. Well, it's been Easter since my last post. Oh, well. Mostly, I've been super busy with work. And life has just been kind of hard the last 2 weeks. I know...welcome to everyone's world.

I've been married for almost 3 years. So far, I've discovered that married life is just hard. Well, shit hit the fan again a couple of weeks ago. One morning I was doing some writing and praying. Prayer has become more and more of a mystery to me. I used to believe that praying was getting God to do things: heal, provide, change something or someone, etc. What I believe today is that prayer doesn't do that at all. Prayer is for me. Prayer raises my awareness of the Divine, of something/someone that's bigger than me and me trying to be connected to the Divine. I was writing my prayer this particular morning and in response to the current marital conflict, I asked God to "help me me bigger than I have been before today." I'm not perfect just so you know. I've certainly done my share (or more) to contribute to things in my marriage being hard. I was acutely aware this particular morning that I just wanted to be different. Really. I wasn't praying for him to be different or the situation to be different (at least not this time). For this day, I wanted to more patient, more accepting, more kind. I believe that I received what I prayed for. Now, you've probably heard the old saying that God answers prayers in one of three ways: 1)yes, 2) no, 3)maybe. I'm not sure that subscribe to that notion anymore. I think God always answers prayers. And I believe that God answered my prayer that particular day...with MANY f'ing opportunities to be more kind, more patient, more accepting. I think God answered by giving me the chances and the awareness to make different choices. And I did fair...I think. Maybe my husband would have different opinion. At the very least, I was aware. This is not bragging on myself by any means. It's my ramblings about prayer. 'Cause it's just a big mystery...just like God. Hmmm. Go figure.

Choices

2007-04-01T21:00:00.000-05:00

A couple of years ago, I wrote devotional for our teenagers for Passover Week. Now, I'm a singer not a writer. Nevertheless, I attempted the task. Well, it's Palm Sunday and I thought I would be brave and share it with you. It makes this post way too long, but I'm doing it anyway.

Choices

` It’s the last week of Jesus’s life. Crowds of the curious, desperate and hopeful had been following him for a couple of years. He had performed miracles and healed many people. Sometimes he told stories no one understood, not even the disciples. He had many friends and was making many enemies. Now this week was here. He always knew the time would come. It is time for Him to die.
What was he thinking? Maybe he didn’t know how fast things would happen, but I believe he knew his death was imminent. How did he feel? How would you feel? What would be going through your mind? No, really. Stop and think about it. What would it be like to know you had just a few days to live? I wonder if there was something Jesus regretted…something he did or didn’t do? When he left home, did he tell his mother how much he loved and appreciated her? Did he ever do the thing he had always wanted to do?
I’m reminded of the months preceeding my father’s death. Daddy told us many times, “I’m not afraid to die, I just don’t want to leave my family.” One night when all of our family was gathered together he told us, “I’m going to a place I don’t want to go yet, but I have to. When I’m gone, I want all of you to stay together and get along. Be good to each other and love one another.” Quite a blessing from someone who would die just one week later. He knew he was going to heaven and that knowledge made things easier for him. It didn’t remove his sadness. Yet, he courageously embraced his reality and tried to make the most of his time. I think Jesus did the same. He must have been sad. He wept in the garden hours before he was arrested. He shared a meal with his disciples. Jesus gave them his blessing and admonition to remember him and love each other. Jesus knew what had to happen. I believe he embraced that destiny in spite of his very real human struggles. However, unlike my father, I think he had a choice. Jesus was no different than us with his abilities to make choices. I think he could have chosen to put his “destiny” off a year…or 10…or 20. Why not live out more his life? Things were going well with his ministry. He loved teaching and so many peoples’ lives were being changed. Why not stay here longer and care for his aging mother? He had choices. He chose this time. Why? The only guess I have is love. His whole life was about loving others and teaching them how to love.

“I have loved you as the Father has loved me. You must go on living in my love…I have told you this so that you can share my joy and that your happiness may be complete. This is my commandment: that you love each other as I have loved you. There is no greater love than this- that a man should lay done his life for his friends.”
John 15:9-13 (JB Phillips translation)

Jesus had a great love for those around him. He also had a great love for mankind. And he loved his Father. He knew his death would liberate mankind, making it possible for us to know God the way he did.
And so, next Sunday is Easter. We’ll celebrate that love. We’ll sing happy songs, watch children hunt Easter eggs, and have special meals with our families. As Easter approaches, I offer you a challenge. ..to be mindful of your choices. Make brave choices. Make loving choices. How would you live if this was the last week of your life? Here are a few suggestions:

Be thankful!
Notice the little things: Spring flowers, the nice bed you sleep in, or a pantry that’s always full of snacks
Say thank you!
Do something kind or of service to someone—anonymously
Breathe deeply…just because you can
Did I mention being thankful?
Tell the people you love, “I love you.”

Tim McGraw recorded a song that says, “Live like you were dying.”

Let’s try it and see what happens.

Bluebonnets

2007-03-28T18:28:00.000-05:00

My father passed away in August 2004. He is buried at a family plot in Belfalls, TX. It's a small, country cemetery near the thriving metropolis where he grew up, Oenaville (pronounced "oh-ee-na-ville"). I love this place. It's quiet and peaceful there. Last year, late in the winter, I planted bluebonnet seeds over his grave. Daddy loved the Texas wildflowers. He and his wife would often travel to the Texas Hill Country during Springtime to enjoy the beauty. Traveling on the motorcycle, of course. The bluebonnets are blooming now in Central Texas and they are stunning! So, I drove to Belfalls Cemetary to see if those little seeds had managed to grow. And they did. Two big bunches of flowers had already bloomed and there were lots of tiny little buds waiting to pop. They were so beautiful and I cried. I was so happy!! Losing my father has been the saddest thing to happen to me. And I miss him so much. Over the last 2 and 1/2 years I've taken many opportunities to remember him and honor my own grief. Planting bluebonnet seeds on his grave was one of those efforts. It brought my heart so much joy today; and today I needed it. (That's another post.) Even planting those seeds offered me an amazing experience and today it became full circle. This little cemetary is smack in the middle of farm land. The ground is black and rock hard. When I traveled to plant the seeds, I took a rake, shovel, pick, hoe...I expected to really work this ground in order to plant the seeds. To my surprise, it wasn't much work at all. A year and a half after his burial, there was still a pretty good mound on top of the ground. When I started raking back dirt, I found that it moved very easily. This mound of dirt wasn't hard at all. So, I continued to rake and little by little I keep seeing these green spots. The more I raked, the more I saw. I finaly bent down to see what they were. They were little green shoots. Little green shoots, probaby weeds, growing in the middle of the dirt pile. It was one of those moments where I was clear God was with me; showing me; opening my eyes. I sat down on the grave stone and wept. God was near and I felt it. In this place marked for death, there is life. Death was not the final word, even for a burial site. Today, life was apparent again...vibrantly! Daddy would love them.

I hung out for awhile, even lying on a blanket watching the clouds. I'm thankful I hang out with teenagers so much...they remind me to do stuff like that. I wish I took more moments like this to just take in life. While I lay there, the lyrics of a song went through my head. It was a song I sang at Daddy's funeral. He picked all the songs at his service. A bunch of songs from Cowboy Church services he listened to on the radio. This one is called "Place Where I Worship."

O the place where I worship
Is the wide open spaces
Built by the hand of the Lord.
Where the trees of the forest
Are like the pipes of an organ
And the breeze plays an Amen chord.
O the stars are the canvas
And they light up the mountains,
Mountains are alters of God.
O the place where I worship
Is the wide open spaces
Built by the hand of the Lord.

There's a carpet of green
And the sky-blue roof above
And I'm welcome there alone
Or with the One I love.
In your heart take a good look
If you follow the Good Book
You're sure to find you reward.
O the place where I worship
Is the wide open spaces
Built by the hand of the Lord.

Here we go!

2007-03-25T21:06:00.000-05:00

My first blog post...ever. This is going to be fun.

Today's Bible Study at church was supposed to be the story of Jesus healing the 10 lepers. Unfortunately, we didn't get it to it. We needed to talk about some church stuff, some of which was about Youth Camp this summer. Some of them don't want to go because we're going with a bunch of other churches and they don't know anyone. The last 2 years we've only taken retreats or extended weekend trips by ourselves. So...change is upon us. They'll be fine. They will make friends and have a great week. They just don't know it yet. Anyway, this story. As I was doing some research, I discovered that this another story about a Samaritan. There were 10 lepers. Jesus said "you are healed go show the priest." Nine took off and one stayed long enough to say thank you. Luke seems emphasize that fact that this "one" was a Samaritan. So, now I have all kinds of questions about this story. It no longer seems like Jesus was trying to make a point of being thankful (which is such a powereful practice) BUT...maybe there's more to it. First, why were Jews and Samaritans hanging out together? Does being an outcast remove social and religious barriers? Where did the Samaritan go and "show himself?" Certainly not the same place the now-healed Jewish lepers were running off to. Why did the others not stop to say thank you? Maybe another statement from Jesus that God's grace is for everyone. For the listening Jewish audience, is this another jab at their separation from the Samaritans...like in the story of the Good Samaritan?

Just some questions. I'm no scholar. I'm not educated in anyway theologically. I studied music in college.

By the way, I have no idea how to do all the HTML stuff to make my site look cool. I just read some stuff and I don't get it. I'm a right-brainer. Maybe I'll work on it...later.

Allow me to introduce myself

2007-03-25T17:34:00.000-05:00

I grew up in church. I mean the “every time the doors were open I was there”, grew up in church. A good Southern Baptist church at that. I knew all the stories. I knew what they mean. I have dozens and dozens of verses memorized. Faith and God were all were very neat and tidy until about 1993. I started going this church where the pastor talked of “being saved” as an ongoing, repeating process, instead of one trip down the aisle to shake the preacher’s hand. There were staff members who had been divorced and now remarried. Like the church’s pastoral counselor. Hmmm, I was taught it was a sin to divorce and adultery to remarry. Three years later I would go through my own divorce. I later learned that my now ex-husband was gay. I had to deal with divorce for me; find God in this. I was taught that homosexuality was wrong. Now it had touched my life in a very intimate and unique way. I had to search out how God fit in. I grew up being taught that having sex outside of marriage was a sin. My beliefs challenged my life as a 30 thirty-something woman in a relationship. I was taught Christians don’t drink. And I didn’t until my thirty’s. Today I love good wine and margaritas. And all along the way, even back to college, unsuspecting men and women found their way in my path offering me different perspectives of God and faith. Their God was bigger than mine. Authentic lives of faith with less rigidity. Some of them took the stories of my childhood and turned them upside down. Often times, exploding my God view, my “Christian” view. Over the past few years, I’m discovering I don’t really know all the stories afterall. They don’t have “an answer”; or only one point to make. With so much of Scripture, I think that the church at large has completely missed the point. I don’t have all the answers. God is not neat and tidy. And it’s wonderful. It is perhaps, my salvation. I lead a Bible Study each week for the teenagers at my church. It’s a small church, not like the big ones I grew up in. I like it. The kids are really not like me when I was their age. I find this delightfully refreshing. It’s also a tremendous challenge. Each week I'm faced with stories I thought I knew. I try to look at them in new way and offer them something we can kick around for an hour. The discussions we have are amazing. These young men and women are intelligent, savvy and insightful. I don’t have to have “all the answers” for them. Thank God. But you can’t just wing it with them. They smell bullshit from miles away. As their “teacher”, I’m also a student. Most of the time a very willing one. They are always teaching. Now, I've come to this place...a blog. I love to read them. I know some cool ones. This time I'm coming for myself. I’ve come to process, write through, and articulate what I’m learning. Kick around with you my life on a spiritual journey. And I’m an artist. I love to sing and I’m pretty good at it. I also love to write. My writing has mostly been for me. I feel tugged to use my creativity and love for writing in new ways. We’ll see what this place brings me. And I want to hear from you. Leave me your thoughts!