souliloquies

been a while

hey friends--are you still there? 

that's probably the question you're asking about me. i know, this blog has sat here, like an abandoned farm field, for many, many months. 

life hasn't been easy, as you can see from the last post i DID make. the battle has ground on, through the summer and into the fall. and then, as things have begun to wind down in that department--meaning, things are better--i've just been tired, and numb. very, very little creative or imaginative juice. no energy to write, or paint, or even think about those things. maybe my improvement and healing resources have gone into the other parts of my life--family, friends, earning income, teaching a creative writing class to kids, sunday school to adults. i'm grateful and glad to have those areas doing well.

over the last couple of weeks i've found myself very busy. i've been so busy as to start to get anxious about getting it all done--there was the fun stress of Thanksgiving, and I accepted directorship of the children's ministry Christmas program (and the rest of the family is IN it, so it's quite the event at our house!), on top of everything else. oh--and i've been asked to take over leadership/supervision of the sunday school class i've been teaching. i'd be responsible for curriculum, the teaching team, etc. and all of it's making me stressed, and anxious, and a little panicky, to be honest.

so i've been pondering what it is i want to be doing, what it is God wants me to be doing, and what i shouldn't do. this morning i made sure to spend some serious time in prayer and devotion--something i all too often blow off for the tyranny of an urgent task. as part of that, i read and pondered jan richardson's post in her blog The Advent Door, Advent 1: In Which We Stay Awake.

it spoke to me in a way i haven't heard much of in a while. maybe in tiny whispers, a little chime here and there, but nothing that i really paid attention to, or understood. but this morning i heard clearly. these paragraphs leaped out at me:

I realized that I had arrived at one of those threshold times that happens in the creative process, when something new is trying to work itself out but is taking its sweet time to make itself known. Like any birth, it tends to be messy. It is a kind of mini-apocalypse in which our familiar landmarks disappear, our sources of illumination go dim, our familiar ways of working no longer work.

It can be daunting to stay soul-awake when these mini-apocalypses come along, whether in the creative process or in life itself, which is its own creative art. It can grow wearying to persist in showing up to what is messy, to what is frustrating, to what lies in shadow, to what seems like it isn’t going anywhere. Yet as Mark’s Gospel reminds us here at the threshold of Advent, such times call us to trust that even in the dark, God is at work, is traveling toward us, has somehow already arrived.

somehow, except for isolated, barely-realized moments, my soul has been at least half-asleep. in many ways i've been sleep-walking through my spiritual life, in a sort of dull stupor. And this is reflected my dulled, even comatose, creative life. i need to wake up, to be present, for my spirit to rise up from this stupor and come into the living Presence of God, to be revitalized and re-vitalized. There is strong link, for me, between my faith and my creativity. I've recognized that my spiritual life is expressed through my creative life, and if i have little or no creative expression, it is a result of, a symptom of, my spiritual life's dryness. and the flip side of this is that i experience my relationship with God most strongly through artistic expression, whether it's the act of my own creation, or my experience of someone else's. i need art and creativity as a vehicle to access deep communion with God. and i'm starving for that, yearning for an on-going without-ceasing flow.

i've realized that somehow, living without this, is a big part of what triggers my anxiety. this lack of connection with God and creative expression of my relationship with Him makes me anxious and sad, feeling out of control, and so not myself. so once again, i find myself needing to make space for all this, to devote time and energy and, yes, a physical place to this. i need to prepare that space, and protect the time, and then commit to actually making this a priority in my life, instead of letting everything else overtake it. i need the mystic, evocative opportunity for an encounter with my living, loving Creator, in which i'm awed by His majesty, overwhelmed by love and worship of Him, and captivated by His love for me. I need the creative, expressive exchange that feeds my soul and deepens my faith. 

what about you? are you awake? there are so many places in Scripture where Jesus calls us to be awake, alert, to be watchful and waiting. in this time of Advent, where we focus on His coming, we are especially called to being awake to His coming, to His breaking into our lives. He brings grace and peace, healing and transformation, truth and beauty.

"And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.” Mark 13:37

battle at the castle gates

maybe it's the weather--gloomy & gray. maybe it's mental tiredness--these last weeks have been full of intellectual and informational overload--going to class, planning classes, re-writing scripts, web content--i'm a little pooped in the brain dept!  but i feel i'm battling... something. lots of things. 

i am finding myself deeply moved by art this week--the rock star's latest music made me cry. although that's not unusual for me with him. but i've encountered a couple of other artworks this week that have also touched me intensely this week, and what all this has created in me is a longing, a yearning, an overwhelming hunger to be immersed in, surrounded by, the amazingly lovely life-giving power of brilliant artistic work. to be involved with the creating of, the exposing of, the evangelizing of breath-takingly stunning art into the world. there's pain in that, the exquisite pain of experiencing heart-breaking beauty, that overwhelms by its flood of sound and color and texture encountered in fresh and overpowering ways that come from the heart and soul of the artist... and the pain and the joy and the distraction of all of this is almost as gloriously unbearable as it is deliciously satisfying. in other words--i've come undone.

secondly, maybe coming out of the above, i am struggling mightily with my calling. calling--such a Christian-co-opted word, isn't it? do you think anyone besides Christians use that term to mean what we do by it? anyway... there are many times when i feel confident in my understanding of my calling. in those moments i trust that i do understand what God is asking of me, has designed and gifted me for, called me to.  i love Him, i trust Him, i long to serve Him with all i am and all i have. and yet...

and yet i am, these last couple of weeks especially, confronted with that which leads me to wonder if what i understand i have to offer is really something of worth. do i truly understand my calling? is it from God, or is it just me? last week, surrounded as i was in my class by astonishingly brilliant and gifted pastors, i began to seriously doubt that i, through my little worship consultancy idea, can really be of any help to them. this week, following a couple of conversations on facebook between worship leaders, worship leaders so gifted and talented, so competent, so anointed and authentically committed and called to their ministries that i think--what can i have of any value to help these amazing people? and back to artists--how can i really make a difference to these incredible artists i long to work with? i am afraid, when confronted with these people and their works, that i have nothing to offer but deep admiration and appreciation. i feel a poser, a fake--just an observer who longs to be more--but isn't.

i am a little comforted by the fact that john bunyan, author of the pilgrim's progress, understood these feelings. his own doubts about himself and his work assailed him for much of his life. the pilgrim's progress itself expressed some of this. carole watterson troxler has said, as a statement of religious faith, The Pilgrim’s Progress for centuries has symbolized the simple but profound human desire to live to one’s fullest capacity.  yes, that is what i long for. to live to my fullest capacity and ability, to contribute something of significance to art and faith...

and what i am afraid, today, that i may not be capable of. in the book, bunyan writes: 

There was a castle called Doubting Castle, the owner whereof was Giant Despair...

today especially i feel i stand within the gates of that castle. i must not, will not, enter. i will stand here outside and do battle against that owner, remembering bunyan, his struggle, his courage, and more than all that his Source-that lovely, holy Source and Friend, Who is also mine. get thee behind me, satan. leave me in peace!

it is in the palace of that holy Friend, the palace in the Delectable Mountains in Immanuel's Land, a haven of hope and rest for us pilgrims, in which i will make my home. even if today, like many days, is a battle.

i stand, and fight. 

 

 

avoidance and confessions

in this blog post i've decided i'm not going to hash over:

• my job, or rather the loss of and continued lack thereof
• the fact that my ministry license can only be renewed via the jumping through of a whole bunch of hoops
• my sadness over this, that and the other, including that my father died the second weekend in april
• my, as laura petrie says about 8:20 and forward , general yuckiness

no, instead i'm wondering--what's up with knitting?

here's the deal. several months ago i knew of two people--no, three--who knit on a regular basis. and at some point looking for something completely unrelated online i found these little guys and fell in love:

 

so i decided i would learn to knit, so that i could make sheep. not anything else, you understand, 'cause i'm not interested in knitting for knitting's sake. just for sheep. so i asked my friend lisa, knitter extraordinaire, to teach me to knit. 

and she did.

so i made 2 sheep, and am working on 2 more:

and then things started to, well... come up about knitting. for instance, not only do i know those three people who knit, but i've heard a couple of other friends talking about learning. and then two bloggers i follow are talking about learning to knit:  robin mckinley, one of my favorite fantasy/sci-fi authors got thorough sucked in, and cathy zielske, a scrapbooker who blogs about non-scrapbooking stuff too which is good, because while i admire scrapbookers and the things they create, the idea of actually doing it makes me want to scream and run around in larger and larger circles until i can escape posted this four years ago, although i just found it today:

 

Oh, and knitting.

                 Yes. I can do a long-tail cast on. The garter stitch RULES. Bring on the repetitive                             stress injuries! Woo hoo!

seriously, i have been reading this woman's blog for years and had no idea. then again, maybe this petered out somewhere between now and then for her...

my point is, knitting seems to be making a comeback. publicly, at least. i'm beginning to suspect that there are many closet knitters out there that i have no clue about. i understand from my friend lisa, whose knitting book comes out this fall, that there are many men who knit, too. 

who'd've thought?

then again--who'd've thought i--that's me the un-handicraft-tastic, would be one of them? knitting sheep, or--yes, it's true, if less than expertly done... a scarf?

 

holy cats.

this, by the way, on top of developing and launching a worship consultancy, website and all; getting serious with my artist consultancy new website there as well; directing a one-act play and helping to plan the festival it'll be in, teaching a two-week class at church,and being in the middle of taking the last of four classes for my ministry licensing. amid all the other day-to-day things that come with family, friends, and life in general.

yikes. i think i should go have a cup of tea. and maybe i should knit a few rows, too. there is, after all, as robin mckinley says, a soothingness of knitting when you’re under stress, and how it gives you something to focus on and feel productive by doing.

then again, on a rainy monday, the very same thing could be said about blogging.

 

 

full sunday

 my third sunday back at my church after being laid off and taking a "sabbatical". today i:

started a new spiritual formation class--with my husband. that hasn't happened in about 18 years. spoke up a couple of times. had tons of fun; great people at our table, including the visiting esteemed former colleague the amazing tabatha & her husband. such a great serendipity!

had a lovely time in the worship gathering, very much appreciated receiving communion today.

found two new places to serve (going to be part of the rotation teaching team for spiritual formation, going to work with projection media with the students). hoping this will apply toward some of my requirements for keeping my ministry license even though i don't have a formal "call".

arranged to have an individual membership class, since there isn't a group one planned any time soon, so i can finally vote in the church's meetings. yes, it's true--i haven't been a member for the four and a half years i was on staff at this church. taking care of it this week. better late than never!

did my part to make sure we don't become one of those churches: a) filled out a comment card to my lead pastor and worship pastor regarding the use of non-gender-inclusive lyrics in a worship song that up to now has been inclusive; then b) after church brought up to one of our Leadership Team members one of the women the fact that our church's new Building Committee has not one woman on it & asked why not? she didn't have a good reason, but said they were aware. ok, i thought, but rectify that! 

i'm pleased and a little surprised at how much i'm enjoying my move from staff to congregation. hope the rest of the church will feel the same way... ha!

have a great week, friends!

my father is dying.

he's diabetic, he has an infection that isn't responding to antibiotics, and he refused the surgery that would have helped, because it would have landed him in a nursing home for recovery, and he will not go there. he's also seriously incapacitated from a series of strokes. all in all, i think he's ready to go. and i don't think it's going to be long now.

the lovely emily called me today, to see how i was, and she asked me what this brought up for me. you see, my father and i weren't close. he divorced my mom when i was pretty young (8, maybe?) and hadn't been around a lot before that. he was a good man, but a bad father. he wasn't cruel, wasn't even cold. didn't have drug or alcohol problems, didn't run around with other women, didn't gamble. he just wasn't around. his own father was abusive, had maybe even sexually abused my aunt, and i've always thought that maybe, having daughters, he was afraid of what he might become, what he might do--as if there were some part of his own father inside him that might suddenly emerge. or, maybe there was just something missing in him, something that didn't allow him to engage and attach and love his children well. whatever it was, it was.

so when emily asked what this has brought up for me... well, i've been thinking it over. and even more, em, than i said to you on the phone, here's what's come up.

certainly it's brought up regret. regret that i didn't have a closing loving supportive relationship with my dad. regret for the things we missed out on, the family get-togethers and fun times. regret for both him, his wife and my kids, that things weren't different--that we couldn't be a family together over the years. dad, you really missed out on getting to know these great kids. i'm so sorry that you and they didn't get to share life together, that they didn't get to know their grandfather well. all of you have missed out.

but there is gratitude there, too. gratitude that, for whatever reason, the abusive cycle was ended with my grandfather. gratitude that, if it's true that my father didn't trust himself, he stayed away, which may have been his way of caring for us. and there's gratitude that in this last fifteen years or so, we re-established a relationship of sorts. it wasn't perfect, wasn't even good, but it wasn't bad. it was better than nothing. it was benign, which was improvement. and it was a reconciliation of sorts, something that i wouldn't have expected earlier in my life. in her book the tale of despereaux, author kate dicamillo writes, 

        there are those hearts, reader, that never mend again once they are broken. or if they do mend, they heal themselves in a crooked and lopsided way, as if sewn together by a careless craftsman.

i think that's a good description of my relationship with my dad. we sort of put it back together again, but in a way that's crooked and lopsided instead of whole and healthy. still, i think, better than nothing. the best we could do.

and this has also brought up gratitude, together with comfort and awareness, for how different things are for my own kids with their father. my relationship with my dad taught me how important the little things are, believing in your kids, being there for ball games and band concerts and birthday parties--just being there for them. letting them know they're the apple of your eye--i know how important it is, because i didn't have much of  that with him. i missed out, and so did my dad.  

but my own family is different, and i'm grateful. my husband is a wonderful man, and a great dad. yes, sometimes they all annoy the crap out of each other, because, of course, nobody's perfect, and we're a pretty... let's say animated and passionate bunch! but my kids have no doubt that their dad loves them HUGELY. they know he adores them, would do anything for them. if there's a play or an award ceremony or a sports event they're in, he's there. he never misses an opportunity to tell people how proud he is of them, tell funny stories about them, or just share the latest news about them. i see especially my daughter, how strong, confident, and  healthy she is knowing her father thinks the world of her.

i just called the hospital he's 800 miles away and left a message for my dad. tell him, i said, that i love him, that i'm praying for him, that i'm sorry he's so sick. i hope it's enough.  in the lopsided and crooked reality of our relationship, it's the best i can do. it's really all there is.