I don't want to talk about it

Cousin L's daughter started kindergarten last month. Little Miss, as I'll call her, hasn't been in preschool or daycare, so this was her first encounter with a pretty structured setting. Upon arriving home, Little Miss was asked about her day. Her reply? "I don't want to talk about it." It came out later, probably after a while of settling it all in her own head, that Little Miss was struggling with the restrictions of the classroom, having to sit down, not talk at certain times, ask to use crayons, all the things that a kindergarten child has problems with. Little Miss will figure it out, I'm not too worried, but her reaction to her day has stuck with me. "I don't want to talk about it."

I'm feeling like I'm in an "I don't want to talk about it" place. One of the things that I heard at the youth workers convention was that often, the change that needs to take place in our ministries, needs to start in us first. Over the past couple of weeks, the past month, if I look back probably the last year, I've felt that change coming. There's an unsettling in my soul. A recognition that God is molding and shaping me. Changing what was into something new. Part of that change has left me feeling discontent in many ways. And while I want to talk about it, I don't want to talk about it. The words aren't formed yet, the thought hasn't matured. The ah-ha, light bulb, flashbulbs, fireworks "I get it!" moment hasn't happened yet. I don't know what God is doing completely...but I do know that it's painful.

It's painful to have little moments of insight into the complexities of me and realize I don't like those things about me. It's painful to ask God to do something, have it happen, and then realize that it sounded nice but in reality, stinks. God chooses moments to speak that feel awkward and way too exposed. Some of the stuff that God is whispering is opening up those old wounds, the ones that have been long covered up by a mask of "I'm OK" when really I was not. Some of the whispers reveal truths I don't want to see. There are moments when it seems that my prayers, cries, my pleas seem to be floating out in the middle of that vastness which is God and God's timing. The waiting is painful, the examining is painful, the change is painful.

Little Miss has adjusted to school. She's learning the new structure, getting the pattern down, adapting to her environment and I know that somewhere on this journey, a new pattern, a new structure, a changed me will emerge. I guess I just talked about it.

Unbloggable

Unbloggable. I've read that term on my favorite blogs over the past couple of years but haven't really given it a lot of thought...until the last couple of weeks when issues or topics have come to mind and I really, really want to blog about them but yet there are complications. #1--Non-anonymity and #2--blogging about them could cause more issues than were originally there, thus rendering certain subjects unbloggable.

It makes me sad, really, to not be able to blog about some things going on in life because this place has become an outlet for me. I've found freedom here to put words on "paper" that sometimes would normally stay in my head...and there's the added bonus that friends and family whom I love dearly but tend to neglect get caught up on whatever is running through my mind at the moment. I'm also sad because I've found that whenever I start writing things down here, I begin to process them on a deeper level. I read the words that I write and then have to think about them, very carefully, before hitting that publish button. I could do as Meg suggested and write them all out and then erase, erase, erase. And maybe I will, though there is some kind of strange satisfaction with having my words read by someone else somewhere...and now I'm rambling.

There are things in life that are bloggable and there are things in life that are unbloggable. Unfortunately, today, is a pretty much unbloggable day.

Small Towns

There are days when I really love living in my small town. I like running into my 5th grade teacher in the store or having my caramel mocha made by a student from my first years of YM. Some days it's really nice living in a small town.

Today it isn't when the name at the top of the headlines is someone that I know and like. Someone for whom my heart breaks. Today is a hard day to live in a small town.

Praying for all those effected.

Dear Abby--Monday 2/4

"DEAR ABBY: I have a big problem. I am 16 years old, have a good job and do well in school. I go to a Christian non-denominational church every Sunday and enjoy that, too.
The problem is my pastor. "Reverend Ron" is 48, married, and has children and grandchildren. We have become attracted to each other and have secretly become a couple since last fall.
Every Monday night, after I get off work, I go over to my church and meet Reverend Ron in his office where we have sex. We agreed to tell no one, so as not to shame ourselves or our families.
Six weeks ago, I found out I was pregnant. I haven't told him yet, and we continue with our Monday night meetings. Abortion is not an option, but neither is shaming my family, much less the whole church. Abby, what do I do? -- IN TRUE LOVE IN WASHINGTON"

"DEAR IN TRUE LOVE: The first thing you must do is tell your mother what you have told me. If there is any "shaming," it should not be directed at you, your family or your church. You are 16, idealistic and inexperienced. "Reverend Ron," however, is an adult who has literally abused his "sacred" trust to you, his congregation and his God. He had so little concern for your welfare that he didn't even use birth control. This is not how grown men show "true love."
You cannot hide this secret forever. At some point the truth will be revealed. Tell your mother now, so responsible adults who love you can give you the support you so desperately need. If you're afraid to speak to your mother alone, then have a friend with you when you do it. The only thing you CANNOT do is remain silent."

The hardest thing in my job is to sit and cry with and for students who have had people harm them emotionally and physically. It is even harder still when the person harming them is supposed to be someone they trust. "True Love" is not my student but how my heart hurts for this student, their family, youth worker, youth group and church. I know how devastating sexual misconduct can be to a church but this is so much more than that.

Praying, right now, for "True Love in Washington". Praying that God will bring people into her life that will speak words of truth, love and compassion. Just praying.