Reflection on an Unproductive Day and the need for Rest

 

I am not a machine. 

I am not capable of going and going and going. 

I usually don't take Monday off because I'm too tired for it to be helpful for a day off, and there may be too many things to get ready for at church. 

But today I thought I could rest a bit and do some work from home a bit. 

But I could not think. I could not decide what needed to be done. I did not know the best order to do it in. 

This is not who I am.  

I know what to do, where to go, and who needs direction. 

And what happens if I'm not that? 

I'm bubbly, helpful, and joyful. 

But what about the days I'm weary and exhausted? 

Today is a day I want the instant gratification of getting up, feeling great, and getting it all done. 

And my body and my life are not cooperating. 

I can't take the disappointment when my colleagues ask, "Did both of the girls go to school today?"  

No-- I only got one to go.. The other refused to get out of bed. 

I feel shame. I feel sadness. I feel the disappointment and disapproval of others. I feel fear. I feel judgement. 

I have all these things to get done in the next 20 months-- until... July 2026.  

 That's when my time is up here. 

I have 5 months until one kid is done with Senior Year.... She'll be done at the end of January 2025! And she can begin at community college...or whatever.... 

My second child will finish will finish in 16 months- January 2026! Currently a Junior, she too could finish early.  

It feels both freeing and like a tremendous amount of pressure to know these things. 

Its like every moment needs to count. 

In each day - I need to be equipping, preparing, getting things set up to run smoothly for the church, for my children's ability to be independent, safe, and kind, I need to be working towards becoming debt free, and financially more fiscal....

I'm just so tired.  

I feel sad and alone and I wish there was someone here to wash dishes with me and laugh about the day. 

One of my children texted me in anger today about how she hated me because I wouldn't get her McDonald's. 

One of my children refused to eat at the table for dinner and said she wouldn't eat unless I brought her dinner to her room. Her intensive in-home therapist reminded me that all I needed to say was "Your dinner is ready at the table." And I did. 

She eventually came and got dinner. 

One child did eat with me and we talked about her essay, and homework, and then she read and fell asleep on the couch rather than getting anything done. 

And I sat here feeling guilty because I have so much I should be doing... but I just want to pile blankets on top of me and close my eyes and not deal with anything. 

I am tired. 

I hate being tired. 

I have a feeling I will feel more like this the older I get. 

An 82-year-old woman in my Spiritual Gifts class last night struggled to see how she can have a purpose and make an impact at her age. She is amazing, kind, and encouraging to others. She tires and struggles and forgets often. She wonders, What can I do? 

And there is so much.  

In a culture that only seems to value output, results, and getting things done.... 

I must remember I am valued simply because I exist. 

It's 6:45 and I feel like I could just go to bed and sleep now. 

And ... maybe I will. 

And maybe... I won't feel bad about it.  

A Preacher's Prayer on a Saturday Night

A Preacher's Prayer on a Saturday Night 

When the demon of people-pleasing rises. 

When you can't stop replaying the sentence, "Don't take offense...the sermons are too long and some people won't come back." 

And you can't stop the loop in your head. 

And you want to say-- no it's not me-- we had Sunday School Teacher Blessing, and a Children's Moment, and Communion.... but the one thing you could have cut was... this.

When you feel like you've failed. 

When it seems like the thing you feel most convicted about is questioned. 

When you never seem to remember the good things they said. 

Do not be discouraged. 

God has given you something to say. 

And you must stand up tomorrow and say it.  

Just listen. 

Just write. 

Do not fear. 

God had placed you here. 

Say it again and again until you internalize this and not the fear of disappointing them. 

As much as it can feel like it-- you are not actually here to please them. 

You are here to serve God. 

Do that. 

And do not fear. 

A Reminder On Hard Day in Ministry

If you pause in the conversation, 

"It's dead silence. "

If you respond too quickly. 

"You weren't listening, but waiting to talk. "

If you preach on one theme. 

"You are ignoring the rest of the Bible."

If you bring on new volunteers, 

"You're obviously pushing the seasoned volunteers out. "

If you created a new sustainable framework for a ministry area, 

"No one likes the new way"... on the first day.

Everything you do is 

watched 

judged

evaluated 

picked apart. 

You are a walking fishbowl. 

And most of the time they have already formed an opinion of who you are.

And...it's not changing. 

No matter how much you preach and teach about emotional health and intelligence, developing a growth mindset, healthy boundaries, self-awareness, conflict resolution, Matthew 18, direct communication, crucial conversations... 

You aren't who or what they want/ expect. 

And they are going to text and talk about you and not to you. 

And you know who's problem that is? 

NOT YOURS.

Don't take it on. 

Don't let it hurt you. 

Illegitimi non carborundum.

Shake the dust off your feet. 

Remember Paul says in Galatians 1:10:

 "Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ."

You will not make everyone happy. 

You're not here to do that. 

GO-- Make disciples. 

Don't worry about making everyone happy, or like you. 

GO-- Love them. 

No matter what. 

And... Give yourself Grace. 

We Need Jesus

 It may sound trite.  It sounds like something we put on a bumper sticker or a t-shirt. 

Ya'll (all ya'll) need Jesus. 

But it is so true. 

This world is filled with so much hurt and pain. 

If we don't see it-- we are lying to ourselves. 

We are numbing, ignoring, and choosing not to see.

This morning, as I was dropping off my daughter a woman, was continuing to drive through the parking lot without noticing the thruway traffic and was going to just keep going without noticing the oncoming cars.  Typically this is where someone would stop and look both ways before proceeding into the passing traffic of cars.  She did not stop and I honked my horn to alert her to please stop. 

She became irate. 

                                          Not the actual woman-- but a good depiction of her anger)

Our windows were up yet I could see clearly that she was cussing me out with a great deal of rage.  

I chose to stop and I calmy just waved her forward to keep on going. 

She mocked me by waving like I did while continuing to angrily cuss at me.  

I waited. 

She proceeded in front of me and then was forced to stop by the oncoming traffic.  

I was so ... shocked isn't the word. 

Sad, for sure. 

And somewhat confounded. 

Why so angry? 

Because I honked so she wouldn't proceed into the thruway? 

I guess I could have just stopped and let her go on and not done anything at all.

Yet, there's nothing wrong with using your car horn to alert someone not to plow into you. 

Part of me thinks, perhaps it's not worth it?  

To communicate with the car horn saying, "Hey-- remember there are oncoming cars here, please wait your turn."  

I kept trying to think about what I would have done if someone had honked their horn at me, typically in those moments I have waved and said-- "Oh, I'm so sorry."  

She was so angry and filled with rage as she mocked my gesture and hurled insults at me that met silence by the windows of our car. 

Why so angry? 

              It's 7:10am 

              We're in the High School parking lot dropping off our kids

                The sun is rising

As I drove home I couldn't help but contemplate this interaction further. 

I continued to feel so sad. 

I want to just stop the whole thing and go and tell her-- You are okay. 

You are loved. 

I want to hug her. 

And say--- it will be okay. 

As I drove away from the school, another car in front of me, another parent who had just dropped off their child had a bumper sticker that read, "Live. Laugh. Love.  And when that doesn't work, Ready, Load, Fire." 

I understand the bumper sticker is being, or trying to be "funny." 

And yet, our first response to practically anything is--- reactive.  

Rarely do we see the capacity to slow down and be thoughtful in the face of interactions with others. 

Faced with pressure to react to a situation, Jesus, often paused. 

When a mob wanted to stone a woman for adultery, Jesus knelt down and doodled in the dirt. (John 8) 

When faced with something that startles us, like someone honking the horn, or worse... where is our capacity to wait, pause, to reflect, to think, to respond?

What is at work inside of us? 

In this season of Easter I am contemplating so much -- Is Christ alive in me? 

Is it evident? 

Is Christ alive in me? or is Death at work in me? 

Do I offer grace and hope, peace and love?  

Or do I offer the things of decay, death, hurt, and further pain? 

Am I bringing hope or am I bringing fear?

Why was this woman so hostile?

I understand it really isn't about me. 

And yet,  I'm so sad. 

Sad- that someone is so on edge, that a honk of a horn warning them with basic driving etiquette, evokes such a rage-filled response. 

The kind of rage that leads to people choosing to take their anger and aim it at others while they shoot them: 

At birthday parties in Alabama 

In banks in Kentucky

At Easter Egg Hunts in Florida 

A Christian School in Tennessee 

(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_mass_shootings_in_the_United_States) 

I also recognize that this possibility of a rage-filled, on-edge life could be true of any and all of us. 

Being in the world and dealing with life is so hard. 

There is so much pain and stress. 

So many people are walking around with all of that all the time and they have no idea how to deal with it, how to regulate their emotions, how to tolerate the distress they experience, and how to process the pain of life. 

Most of the time when we try to deal with our heavy feelings and pain- and we tell someone how hard something is, the response we receive can be either:

- Dismissal-- Yeah- well, get over it, that's just how things are. 

-One-uped - You think you have it hard, well let me tell you... 

The world is aching for an acknowledgment- a validation of their pain-- to just be heard, to be seen, to be loved. 

Jesus does this. 

The very presence of Jesus in the world is the acknowledgment of how much pain God sees us in and how God loves us and says, "You don't have to live this way." 

God sent Jesus to live and suffer WITH us, to love and teach, to be present and connect, to heal and release us from the bondage of sin, and to save us from the chasm of our own sin, pain, and death. 

Life does not have to feel hollow, fearful, angry, and hostile. 

How can we remind each other of this-- devoid of self-righteous,  I told you so, despicable religious behavior? 

How can we love in a way that is real and authentic that doesn't come across with a patronizing "I've got it all together" air but comes humbly willing to say-- This is all so hard and Jesus is here with all of us?

How can we share the love and power of Christ that can defeat this pain and increase our capacity for love, compassion, and grace in a way that those who are in so much pain can truly receive it? 

I don't have an easy answer. 

I do know that loving and offering compassion in this world of hurt and pain is an act of resistance.

We ask these questions when we profess our faith: 
Do you renounce the spiritual forces of wickedness, reject the evil powers of this world,
and repent of your sin?

Do you accept the freedom and power God gives you to resist evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves?

Do you confess Jesus Christ as your Savior, put your whole trust in his grace, and promise to serve him as your Lord, in union with the Church which Christ has opened to people of all ages, nations, and races?

I love these questions and I am constantly in awe at the depths of what they mean. 

I also know that these three questions are linked and they require a daily response from me.  

I need Jesus.  

Paul says in 1 Corinthians 15: 

"Now I would remind you, brothers and sisters, of the good news that I proclaimed to you, which you in turn received, in which also you stand, through which also you are being saved if you hold firmly to the message that I proclaimed to-- unless you have come to believe in vain."  1 Cor 15:1-2

 

Do we say in words, hashtags, social media posts, and superficiality, and not believe and embody the life and love of Christ? 

We all need this reminder. 

Have we come to believe in vain?

What does it look like to NOT believe in vain?

What does it look like to rise up and be alive in Christ? 

How can we share God's love and change the world? 

Setting my mind on the Spirit

 It's the first week of Lent. 

I decided I wanted to write and reflect more for Lent.  

Years ago-- I wrote on this blog more often and there was a time I wrote nearly daily. 

The last post here was in 2020. 

A lot has changed in my life since then. 

I turn 44 tomorrow. 

Years ago I wrote a post reflecting on my 40th birthday and the state of the church. 

Then I was mourning the eventual break of my church. 

I had a spiritual director and we found a connection.  

At the time in 2019, I had been in ministry for 13 years and I felt like I was losing something in my church as the church began to break apart. My parents separated when I was 12 and were divorced by the time I was 13.  My family broke apart and in 2019 it seemed as though my church family was breaking apart.  My spiritual director and I found a metaphor in my parents' divorce and the divorce that was occuring in the church.  I was grieving and feeling lost. 

I hate the phrase, "God only gives us what we can handle."  

I don't believe that is true. 

I cannot handle all that is going on.  I need Jesus to hold it all. I can't deal with life.  I need Jesus to take the burdens.  

And Thank God for God.  Thank God for our Savior Jesus. Thank God for the Holy Spirit interceding, comforting, and convicting. 

Jesus says, "Come to me all you who are weary and caring heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." -Matthew 11:28 

There was a lot of pain during my adolescence.  

11- Mother fought Breast Cancer 

12- Parents Separated

13- Parents Divorced

14- Father Remarried

- Mother had a life-threatening illness of staff infection in her spine and was hospitalized for weeks.  Doctors said she would die or be paralyzed from her neck down.  She survived and needed an IV every day for a month or more and I cared for her throughout the summer.  

15- Mother Remarried abusive narcissist.

16- Mother's husband convinced her to move from Virginia to Alabama and I lived alone. 

17-  My step-father had convinced me I was worthless and I almost gave in to that thinking and nearly took my life.  

There was more than this.... but all that I'm willing to share publicly now... 

I was alone. 

I thought I had to do it all alone.  

I didn't know it could have been different.  

I was not healthy.  

I smoked cigarettes was addicted to caffeine pills and weighed less than 100 lbs at 5'7.

At my lowest moment- I felt the assurance that God was with me.  I can't quite say I remembered this scripture because I'm not sure I knew it then well enough to have remembered it.  But I heard it spoken to my heart. Psalm 27:10: "When my father and my mother forsake me, Then the LORD will take care of me.

For years that seemed to be the hardest time of my life. And yet, I knew God was with me.  God led me through it. 

By 18, I was at college and it was like I had found my home.  I grew in my call and clarity about who I was and whose I am, it all became clearer.  I found a home at my college, in the United Methodist Church, and most assuredly in a call that God was guiding me in. I began therapy with the chaplain of my college and learned to set boundaries and finally began caring for myself and learning not to hustle for my worth by over-functioning and people-pleasing (still working on all this.)

By 21 I met my husband. 

At 22 we were engaged and I became a missionary. 

By 23 we were married. 

By 24 we were in seminary together. 

I was so grateful that now it seemed I had someone to share life with.  To share my joys and sorrows.  Someone to pray with me and be in ministry with. We even made our license plate "2Clergy." 

At 27 we were serving in our first church and found out we were pregnant with our first child. 

And by 28 I was a mom. 

And by 29 we had our second child. 

Last year, he left.  

He had lost himself.  

I had my first birthday in 21 years without him last year. Friends gathered around me and I was loved. 

He didn't communicate much with me or my girls for about 7 months. 

For many of those first months, I cried and I relied on my friends and community. 

I sat in my chair reading my bible and weeping. 

I clung to Jesus and just sat there holding myself with my arms wrapped around my shoulders. 

I would pull into the driveway and just sit there in the car weeping after getting kids or a kid to school.

My first year as a single mom was hard. 

And it doesn't feel like it's getting any easier. 

My girls are really struggling.  One moment one of them will be doing well and then in the morning after a good night, she's telling me she wants to die and she "F'ing hates me." 

Another is refusing school and I celebrate the fact that after 3 weeks out of school, I got her to just go into the building for 30 minutes yesterday.  

I'm so grateful for mental health professionals and for the intensive outpatient therapy program my younger child is doing.  And I got a referral from the pediatrician for my older child to do this too. 

My girls struggle with Major Depression, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Attention Deficit Disorder, Autism Spectrum Disorder, and Mood Disorder... 

This morning after I got one kid to school after a lot of struggle.  She did apologize for cussing at me and yelling and all the hard things. 

Every day I'm trying to show up and be present and love them and help them and yet it feels like it is never enough. 

 I'd love to say I'm co-parenting... but their Dad takes them every other weekend - basically 4 days out of a month.  I am thankful for those weekend breaks.  I'm thankful for child support. 

I find myself in my second year of doing this grieving still so much. 

I don't grieve the struggles of living with 3 people with mental health struggles in the house and trying to regulate myself, another adult, and 2 teenagers.   

I don't grieve the frustrations and fears when he yelled and screamed and shut down in the midst of  crisises with the children. 

I do grieve the life I had imagined I would have. 

I thought I'd have a best friend and partner to pray with me and live in and through this together. 

I thought there would be someone to laugh with and have dinners with the kids around the table, and to celebrate their victories with. 

I have cried out to God so much and wondered, pleaded, and asked-- Why?  

Why have I had to experience the hardest parts of my life alone? 

Why- when I see other people in loving marriages with supportive partners - must I have to parent and navigate this hard time by myself? 

Why Lord!? 

It's not fair. 

I'm sad and weary and tired.  

The car broke.

The sink broke. 

The flashing tore off the house. 

The car broke again

The dishwasher broke. 

I feel frustrated and angry. 

Every day it's hard. 

The girls scream and fight -- about taking a shower, helping with chores,  or just getting out of bed-- to function. 

Every single thing is hard. 

And I am worn. 

This morning read through Romans 8 and I read through it again and again. 

"For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on the things of the Spirit.  To set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace.  For this reason, the mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God; it does not submit to God's law- indeed it cannot, and those who are in the flesh cannot please God.  But you are not in the flesh; you are in the Spirit since the Spirit of God dwells in you." 
Romans 8: 6-9

In the moments I am crying -- God is here. 

I long to be held and loved. 

As I weep in my weariness, the Holy Spirit is holding me. 

Jesus is loving me. 

When it feels like I am doing this all alone. 

When I wish that I had someone to be a Father with me as a Mother... 

I pray and I pray and I pray. 

And as I sat here and prayed and cried a friend texted me--- thank you Holy Spirit. 

I called and they prayed with me. 

And then I sat and prayed some more.   

And I know the truth. 

I do have a Father here. 

My girls do have a Father who is present and loving, who is patient, and kind. 

My girls have a Father who never leaves. 

I have a partner to walk with me and parent with me. 

I am not alone. 

God is here. 

This isn't the way I thought it would be. 

But I am not alone. 

When I set my mind on the things of the flesh- I do feel hostile toward God. 

 I feel angry and frustrated that I don't have a partner here in the daily struggles or in the small miracles.  

 I don't have a companion here to hold me through the night and wake up with me.  

I don't have someone to pray with in the night when tears flood. 

But I do. 

I do have a God who is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. 

I do have a God who will never give up. 

I have a God who keeps his covenant. 

I'll soon be divorced. 

The covenant I made on July 27, 2002, will be demolished--- it already was when he stopped loving me; when he chose to love someone else; when he shut down; when he didn't ask for help; when he chose to cling to the easy quick impulsive wants rather than to the faith we shared.  

No - this was not what I signed up for. 

I have friends who have had divorce parties. 

I'm not sure how to navigate this. 

It doesn't feel like something to celebrate.

But I do know that I trust in Jesus. 

I do know that God is doing a new thing.... a million new things. 

I will celebrate that. 

I do know that I'm learning how to love again. 

I do know that I am learning how to be loved in ways I never imagined could happen. 

I do know that God has more for me. 

I do know that I am not alone. 

I will celebrate that. 

I am setting my mind on the things of the Spirit. 

And I am choosing to see and know that God has not and will never leave me. 

 Lord help me. 

You called me to a life of ministry. 

You called me, Jesus, to follow you.

You called me Lord, to serve you. 

 

You called me Jesus,

 Light of the world,

to shine your light,

to share your love,

to make disciples,

to proclaim the Gospel

and the truth of Resurrection! 

 

Lord help me!

 

I love you. 

I love your people. 

I love sharing the good news

and creating space

for the healing of your Holy Spirit

 to bring miracles into marriages

and heal fractures in families,

 to create clean hearts,

to heal divisions amongst your people,

to reveal the peace

only your presence can bring.  

 

I love to be used by you 

to bring about wholeness, forgiveness, and reconciliation;

to ignite passion in your people;

to see blindness fade and faith grow;

to empower and equip your people so that 

together, we change the world and build your kingdom.  

 

Lord help me.

I know I am not alone. 

I know you are with me. 

I know I am surrounded 

by the saints who have gone before me. 

I know I am held in covenant 

with others who 

say yes to you 

and this great and wondrous call.

 

Strengthen me

and give me the courage

right now, and each day

to lay aside every weight

and the sin that clings so closely. 

 

Let me lay it down, Lord Jesus, right now.

 

Lay it down.

 

All my frustration

at how cumbersome

everything seems,

at how urgently

I want to share the Gospel

and how glacially

your church moves. 

 

I want to do this work and  yet,

I am discouraged by all that seems

to hinder and shut out

your Spirit of welcoming embrace. 

 

I am angry, Lord at the obstacles. 

I am weary of the entanglements

that feel of this world. 

I want accountability and

 I accept the charge we have,

and yet Lord, you call us to be released

 from the bindings and trappings of this world.

 

Lead us, Lord.

 

How do we walk this road at this time?

 

How do we throw off all the weight and sin that clings so closely?

 

Help us run with perseverance

the race that is set before us,  

looking to Jesus the pioneer

 and perfecter of our faith,

who for the sake of the joy

that was set before him endured the cross,

disregarding its shame,

and has taken his seat

at the right hand of the throne of God.

 

I will run the race with you, Jesus.

I am not ashamed of the Gospel.

It is the power of God

for the salvation of all who believe.

 

You are all I need.

I stand with you.

I live to glorify you.

I am called to proclaim the Gospel. 

 

And I will not be deterred.

Amen.    

 

Dear Momma

Dear Momma,

Remember this moment.

She is now asleep next to you.

She is safe.

It’s all okay now.

Remember this moment -God brought you through it.

About two hours ago….

Your lip swelled after she knocked her head back to head butt you.

Your cheek stung when she slapped you.

Your foot hurt as she hammered down on it with her heel.

Her Elbows tried to dig in your ribs. 

She punched your back and legs and anywhere she could.

She snapped at you with her teeth trying to bite you.

Her body writhing in anger possessed by this demon of depression--

She was trying to hurt herself and anyone else….

She almost crushed your glasses and you quickly moved them.

You held her in a proper restraint doing all you could to keep her safe… but worst of all were her words:

Telling you that you’re nothing.

"You don't care."

"I hate you."

"You are a terrible parent. "

"You have failed."

"No one really likes you."  

She wishes she was never born.

She wishes you would go away and never come back.

She says she wants to die repeatedly.               

"If you loved me, you would let me die and go to heaven."

"Leave me alone.  You don't care about me anyway." 

She is so angry and so sad.

You prayed and asked God to help you stay steady and not react.

When you didn't know how to continue to you reached out to call her aunts/ your best friends so she could hear that others love her.

And…so, you could draw strength from their presence and prayers.

You kept focused.

You prayed.

Even when you tried to say, "I love you."

She became more fearsome and lashed out more.

So, from then on you only said, "When you drink the water and take a bath, I will let you go and leave you alone."

She said, "I want to die."

You asked, "What is your plan?"

She said, "I am not going to cut myself or shoot myself that would hurt too much. I will just refuse to drink and eat and I will starve and die."

It took everything you had not to say a word- not to react- to simply stay focused on holding her safely  and keeping her from hurting herself or you more.

When you called her aunts she was polite and wanted the conversation to end.

She said you made her feel guilty and like a monster.

She said, as she often does, "You are the worst.  You don’t know how to do anything right.  You are bad at calming me down."

The phone calls were a mirror where she could not deny her behavior.

It was a moment for you to know you were not alone.

You had to send Dad away to another room, because he screamed when she threatened you and then she reacted worse.

You had to ask her big sister to go upstairs because this was not something she needed to be part of and every time she tried to help she could only talk about wanting to play her video game with her sister-- so then she was screamed at and told she was selfish and didn't care.    

You knew--- they just didn't have the capacity to give what was needed at the time.   

You… didn't have the capacity either.

And yet God supplied it.

Finally- like a miracle-- she said- "I'll drink the water."

She took a sip.

You said, "How about you have 11 sips, since you are 11."

She did it.

Then you said- "Great now you can take a bath."

You said," I'll get the bath all ready for you."

You turned your back for a moment to get the water going and you didn't know where she went.

You ran downstairs, heart pounding with so much worry, fearing she had gone outside in the rain or gone to hurt herself.

But then you found her on the floor in her sister's room cuddling the dog.

You got everything ready.

Lavender Epson salts in the water.

Her muscles ached from refusing to get out of bed for a few days.

You placed a hot towel on her back.

You rubbed her feet.

You stayed quiet.

She looked up and said, "I hate that I feel so mad. This is not how I want to feel. I'm sorry I said all those terrible things to you.  I didn't mean them.  At least not all of them.  I'm sorry I hit you and hurt you."

You told her you loved her, you forgave her, you were there to hep her.

And then you stopped talking.

And listened.

And listened.

She talked about how laying in bed watching TV was the only thing that made her feel good.

You reminded her of spring break and how you all did art and exercise and had fun.

You mentioned how fun hiking last week was.

She got mad and splashed you.

You calmly reached for the towel and wiped yourself off. 

She said, "Mom!  You can't just get up and do stuff when you feel bad.  When you don't want to get out of bed, you just want to lay there and watch TV.  It's the only thing that helps."

You said, "Until that wears off.  It just numbs it for a while."

She said, "Sometimes I want to feel numb."

You washed her hair.

You conditioned it.

She got mad again and screamed about getting out.

You stayed calm and said, "Let's rinse the conditioner out."

She relented.

Then she let herself lay back in the warm bath and she closed her eyes and breathed.

You breathed too.

Then she rested a bit.

Then she was done and wanted out.

You asked her to stay while you got fresh towels.

She complied.

She got dry and but still felt weak.

She decided to crab walk to the room with her towel on.

Your room.

She hasn't slept in her own room most of Quarantine.

You got her dressed. 

She asked you to fix the bed and you did.

You got a hairbrush and brushed her hair.

She said she wanted a haircut.

"Momma cut my hair now!"

You said, "I'm not good at that, but I'm happy to get an appointment for you.  For now, I can brush it and braid it and get it out of your way."

You slowly brushed all the knots and mats out.

You braided her hair.

She laughed and told you stories.

Remember this Momma.

You sat brushing her hair and she said, "I love you Momma."

An hour before she was telling you she hated you and wanted to die.

She colored on a coloring app while telling you stories.

Today you pushed depression back.

But it was not defeated.

And you still you resiliently resisted.

You breathe and remember the advice a church member gave you when you brought your first child home, "You only need to keep them alive."

Advice meant to keep you from worrying about all the other stuff. 

It's harder than you think.

Every day-- Just keep them alive.

They will hate you, then love you, they will know everything, and you will know nothing.

Do not react.

Love.

And keep them alive.

Trust in God and hope.

Keep on loving.  It will get better.

For now--rest.

Then let your busted lip heal.

Eat some food.

Take care of yourself.

Read this and remember whenever you need it.

Reflections on turning 40, General Conference, and finding a true home

My heart has been hurting so much this week.

I have gone from moments of hopelessness, to invigorated sticktuitness, to a desire to give up and just be and to do something else with my life and …..then…. I go around again.

I have reminded myself that in grieving, it is best not to make any decisions for a year.

A parishioner asked me, "Why are people so upset if nothing has really changed?"

The Book of Discipline on the matter of LBGBTQIA+ people has not changed, it has strengthened its penalties related to clergy.

My first thought was this process and how we behave and what all this says about us ---This may be, what I am grieving.

Yes, I had hoped for a different outcome.

But I tend to be a person more focused on process than product.

 If a group makes a decision that I do not agree with, I can be okay as long as the process was loving, kind, and contextual to the people and places the decision affects.   

A good friend and I talked about this and she said something helpful for me- that she noted that those for the One Church Plan and those for the Traditional Plan may be defining what is is to be "loving" differently.  

People who were for the One Church Plan felt that the loving thing to do was to be able to be one church to "love alike, even if we think alike."

People who were for the Traditional Plan felt like the loving thing to do was to hold others to their understanding of biblical accountability.  

1 Corinthians 13: 4-7 says:

4 Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant 5 or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; 6 it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. 7 It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

I had hoped that the church could be a beacon of light to say that we can love one another and have space for different understandings even when we disagree.  

We do not agree or have the same understanding on a number of theological issues.  

We do not understand fully the Holy Mystery of communion, we do not fully understand the Holy Trinity,  we do not agree on how God created the earth.  

I had hoped for the One Church Plan because I hoped that through the church, God could show the world a new way of being.

We do not see that modeled anywhere.

Everywhere we see division, bitterness, slander, malice, and I had hoped we could see one another first as beloved sisters and brothers rather than opponents on differing sides of a theological issue.

But that is only part of what I am grieving.

My heart hurts so much in a personal way-- so why am I grieving?

I am a white, cis-gendered, straight, married, mother of two-- how does General Conference affect me other than the fact that I am a clergy person who followed the rules a week ago and still is following the rules of the church today.

I am a rule follower.  I always have been. 

I used to wonder if I would have been courageous enough, to stand up against Nazi's during the Holocaust,  to march during the Civil Rights Era, to care for refugees if I lived on the border of a war-torn nation.  

I hope that I would.  

I have not had to break any rules to follow my conscience so far in my life. 

I believe that makes me fairly privileged. 

I love people and I love loving ALL people.

I don't like living divided.

And I am by nature not one to antagonize.   

I am not a rebel rouser. 

I may cuss and "Detroit Beth" comes out if I get riled up….

But I am by nature a peace maker, a dialogue creator, a bridge builder. 

I have willingly placed myself in places where I would not be readily accepted because I felt called to serve God and love people. (A Birmingham, AL women's shelter, the streets of Detroit loving the homeless, serving as the chaplain in a mixed income housing community in East Atlanta).  I have served in places where I was harshly judged for being a woman, for being young, and for being a mother.  (Not gonna name those places).

And I have loved them all.  

I have been fully me in all these places, although who I am has not always wanted, accepted, or appreciated.  

And I have loved them all. 

I have served in churches filled with parishioners who were the first to go march in the streets for peace and justice AND in churches where their news channel stays unchanged on FOX news.

And I have loved them all.

I have served churches with people of ages, nations, races, sexual orientations, and gender identities.

And I love them all.

I love being in a room of diversity -of color, gender, age, identity, and opinion.

I do not like being in places where I am told I must agree in order to be included; I had enough of that growing up in the Buckle of the Bible Belt. 

Growing up there, the sometimes outspoken, but always underlying attitude was Catholics weren't really Christians, People of any religion other than fundamentalist Christian were to be eyed with suspicion, People of color were second class, women were not allowed to speak in church, Science didn't matter, Higher Education was for only the rich, etc…

Everything felt segmented and segregated growing up.

There was nothing that eased feeling fractured and broken in this culture, including my family, who were broken and fractured in their own right. 

It felt like we were Broken and Broken and broken and broken and broken over and over again.

It felt like I was never enough to fit in or belong.

There was never enough time to just be.

I was never worthy enough.

And there was never enough capacity of love to be given.

I was always yearning and searching for what home felt like.

The place that felt safe and worthy.

The place where love lived even when opposition arose.

The place where you didn't have to be only one thing to matter or make a difference.

I found that place.

By a cross at Lake Shalom, singing how "It Only Takes a Spark to Get a Fire Going" every summer at Camp Hat Creek.

And I found that place.

In the streaming light of Yielding Chapel at Birmingham-Southern College while holding a red hymnal in my hands and reading about this grace of Jesus Christ that loves me no matter what and will never let me go. 

I said Yes to a Call in that chapel and thirteen years later as I kneeled before my Bishop with her hands laid on me telling me to "Take Thou Authority of the Word of God." 

What am I grieving?

I thought I had found my home.

Found my family.

The safe place to fully be me and who God called me to be.

To fully serve and make a difference.

To be part of something that was connected all over the world.

To really feel and witness the power of the Holy Spirit.

And now….

That home is fractured.   

That home feels like a place that says, I am not welcome and I am not worthy to be here.

Why does it feel like that now and not a week ago?

Because it says, to me, if my call and my faith call me to welcome my LGBTAI+ sisters and brothers into full inclusion as part of the Body of Christ that I am unchristian, unfaithful, and unwelcome.

This home, that used to feel like a big tent where all were wanted and welcome.

Now feels like a box that where I may no longer fit.  

I've been praying. 

And I realized...  I was wrong about what the home was. 

The home I found, wasn't Camp Hat Creek, or Yielding Chapel at Birmingham-Southern College, or even The United Methodist Church. 

These places have lived out glimpses of my home, but they are ultimately not my home. 

The home I have found is in the Kingdom of God. 

Some  refer to it as the Kin-Dom of God-- because it is a place where we are kin, where we are truly all family, no matter what. 

United by the love of Jesus Christ. 

The Kingdom of God is bigger than any institution we can create. 
And Jesus Christ and His Kingdom will never forsake me. 

I turn 40 tomorrow.  

And I I've been reflecting on  what I am done doing.

I struggle with self-care and people pleasing and working too much (too often at the expense of my family and my own well-being).

I decided I don't want to spend the second half of my life doing those things.

I don't want to be stuck in a box or to fight to make one bigger.

That doesn't mean I don’t care or I don't want justice.

It doesn't mean the church isn't worth fighting for.

It especially doesn't mean that those who have been harmed by the church aren't worth fighting for.

I don't really know what it means.

Maybe I don’t think I'm a good fighter.

Maybe I just want to use my energy to work for rather than against.

I want to focus on sharing the good news of Jesus and loving people.

I want to focus on equipping the saints for the building up of the body of Christ.

In some ways.... I'm not sure how to do that here anymore.

Because it's looking like I need to make a choice.

I can't stay where the walls are closing in.

And I don't want have the desire fight about an institution anymore.

But I will listen and keep praying. 

For now, I will keep loving. 

I will keep serving.

I will remember who I am and why God called me.

I will keep listening and praying. 

God called me to ministry. 

And God has not released me from this call. 

So tomorrow, on the day I turn 40. 

I will get up, I will praise God. 

I will lead my church. 

I will preach God's word. 

I will love like Jesus. 

I will preside at the table of our Lord. 

I will serve communion.  

I will pray with and for my congregation. 

I will hold on to hope. 

I will cling to Jesus.  

Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful.  And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching. - Hebrews 10: 23-25