Dear Facebook,

I saw the generated post on my wall the other day "It's been a great year!  Thanks for being a part of it!"  I saw the photo that the algorithms came up with as the one to highlight my "great year"...and I pulled the drop down arrow to hide the post.

For me, Facebook, 2014 was not a great year.  It was a pretty sucky year.  I would give pretty much anything for a do-over.  The photo chosen as the cover for that generated post was the last photo I have of just me and my Dad.  I know a bunch of people liked it, which is why it was front and center on that slideshow thingy.  When I saw it, though, I started to cry.  I'm not blaming you, Facebook techie people.  I know the intention behind the post thing was to remind people of the good things that happened, the places we've been, the people we've met, the memories we have, the things that occurred in our lives, so in one sense you did accomplished your goal.

It's not your fault, Facebook, that in 2014 leukemia disrupted my family.  It's not your fault this f***ing cancer wasn't eradicated by the massive amounts of chemo my Dad was given, opening his immune system up to the infection that took hold of my Dad's lungs and wouldn't let go.  The photo's that slide through my mind when I think back to 2014 aren't on your generated post.  They are in my head, snapshots of moments when I knew that nothing was ever going to be the same again, as I watched my Dad go from strong, healthy, happy and hug-able to a resigned, defeated man who spelled out the word "torture" with his fingers, because he was on a ventilator and couldn't speak, and mouthed the words "I'm ready to die".  You don't have the pictures of the wild look on his face when the fever spiked, nor the picture of the scene of the room when the crash team came swarming into his hospital room.  You don't have a picture of the hospital chaplain who stood by my side in those moments offering a silent prayer, with her arm around my shoulders, nor of the ER doctor who rode by on his bike as I sat outside by the fountain, the day my Dad died, and gently raised his hand in greeting as our eyes met.  He knew what was happening in the room three floors up.

I'm the only one who can see that slideshow.  It reminds me daily that 2014 was not a great year.  It was a year that my family is going to take a long time to recover from.  Yes, there are some good memories in there.  Somewhere down the road I'll be able to go back, look at 2014 and find the good memories.  So, thanks for storing those memories, Facebook.  But if you don't mind, I'm just going to skip right over everyone else's "It's been a great year posts".  It just hurts too much today.

Sincerely,
Brittany

On the other side of the pew

Christmas Eve found Yo Momma and I in a small Presbyterian church in Lake-town.  We have been there before, for Christmas Eve services. The sanctuary is always beautifully decorated and cozy.  It was a nice service and helped me to usher in Christmas as best I could this year.

Going to this church reminded me of what I love about small churches.  There is a beautiful, awkward, tenderness with small churches, especially when it comes to putting their best foot forward for times when the expected crowd will be filled with unfamiliar faces.

Here's some examples of what I mean:

• Everyone was handed a bulletin when they entered.  All the hymns were typed into the bulletin, and there were five hymns, along with all the scripture readings, thus the four page bulletin was in 9pt. font.  And we were reading it in a darkened building.  I appreciated that everything was there and we wouldn't need to fumble through the hymnal but...
• Thankfully, the words to all the songs and the readings and responsive readings were projected on a screen.  I have absolutely no problem with projection systems in sanctuarys.  I prefer to look up when I sing, rather than bury my head in a hymnal or bulletin.  It's much more worshipful to me.  A typo did catch my attention, though, during the responsive reading.  Instead of "And we are stunned"  it read "And we arse stunned".  Having been the one putting the media stuff together, I know how easy it is to make those mistakes...and miss them completely until it's projected on the screen for all to read.  (I smiled with memories of the year that Yo Momma was the church secretary who typed out the words to Silent Night in the bulletin only to find, on Christmas Eve as we were singing if I remember correctly, that she had typed out "Silent Night, Holy Night, all is calm, ass is bright".)
• A couple of choir members were honored with lighting the advent candles.  All was going well until the Christ candle was to be lit.  The woman who was so excited to light that candle hadn't been given instructions on using the candle lighter and the wick wasn't far enough out of the candle lighter so as she valiantly tried to light the candle, it just wouldn't catch.  Her friend, beside her, kept trying to help but didn't want to ruin the moment.  Finally as everyone bowed their head for prayer, the problem was solved, the candle was lit and I breathed a sigh of relief for them.
• The time came for the offering and as the Pastor gave the introduction and started to pray, I heard the lady in the pew behind me whisper urgently to her partner, "Offering time, that's you!"  He scampered up to the front, the offering was taken while a soloist sang and then came more whispering, "What do I do with the offering?  Should I take it up now, should I wait?"  The person was told to take it to the front of the sanctuary but not before they took a few steps, then turned around to double check with the person in the back and before heading up again.

The service was nice.  The Pastor was personable, sincere and humble.  The choir sang well...though, the next time I hear someone complain about the guitar/piano/worship band being too loud, I'm going to tell them that organ's aren't particularly quiet instruments themselves...yesh. The offering was taken without mishap.  We were welcomed when we walked in the door and I left the church service with a smile on my face, more for the comfort of seeing, watching and hearing the familiar, than anything else.  There are moments I miss those days of being up front and doing my best to create an environment where people can meet Jesus in a meaningful way...but sometimes it's nice to be on the other side of the pew, where I can smile to myself, empathize when things go awry and smile and say "Thank you, that was lovely" as I walk out into the cold, dark night.

Unpublished posts

There are 27 drafts of blog posts sitting in my blogger dashboard.  Some are deep, emotionally charged entries, some are pithy throw away things.  Some have been there for a year or more, many have been written in the past 6 months.

When Papa Bear died, one very wise friend who has been on the journey of grief more than once said, "Keep blogging...even if those posts never see the light of day, keep blogging."  So I have.

Blogging started out as a way of communicating with the people back home when we went on our Mississippi Mission trips (plus there was this one blog ring that had caught my attention and I wanted to be a part of that group!)  It was much easier to write on a blog and add pictures than to send an email to each person wanting to know what was happening while we were away.  Blogging also helped me process what we had seen and done those days.  I kept it up after coming home and soon started a separate blog just for the Mississippi Trips...ca2ms.blogspot.com.

Blogging has become an emotional outlet, a place where I can air my thoughts and feelings and either people read it or people don't.  Lately, though, the blog posts have started piling up.  I tend to edit what gets published for multiple reasons.  One is out of respect for those who read this page, another is out of respect for my own piece of mind.  Some would read what I have written and become VERY concerned about where I stand with God these days or how I am dealing with grief or my political stance or...  I need to write down my thoughts, my hurts, my heart on this journey of life and grief but I don't always need feedback or input.  I just need to write.  I've never been great at keeping a journal in handwritten book form (it's too slow!) but I can type my thoughts out, hit save and go on my way.  Blogging works, however irregular posting happens.

And so, my blogger dashboard has 27 unpublished posts just sitting, waiting, ready for that moment when I reread them, do a little editing and hit the "publish" button or simply hit "save" and let them sit for a little while longer.  So though it may be weeks between posts, never fear, I am here.  I am blogging...I'm just not publishing.

Okay...make that 26.

Blue Christmas - A reaction to a Facebook thread

Every once in a while something will trigger a reaction I did not anticipate.  I try not to be a reactionary person, but rather one who takes a step back from my reactions and examines the whole situation before moving forward.  What this means is that in conversations or places where I can leave a comment, I don't say anything.  Many times, my initial reaction will be off the charts ridiculous and it's better that I didn't say/write anything at all.  Sometimes, though, my reactions are sound and deserve to be aired, however long it takes.

When I was still working for Old Church, I became aware of a service that some churches hold around Christmas called "Blue Christmas".  Some call it the service "The Longest Night of the Year".  I prefer Blue Christmas.  The premise of this service, as I understand it, is to offer a time in the midst of the Christmas season, to remember, to contemplate, to acknowledge that for some people the Christmas season isn't a happy, joyous occasion.  I broached the subject of a Blue Christmas service with Old Church staff and it went nowhere.  At that point in time, I wasn't willing to push the envelope and yet I was constantly mindful that though the season of Christmas, for Christ followers, is celebrating the birth of new life in the form of a baby named Jesus, not everyone could embrace the celebration...even Christ followers.  The deaths, literal and metaphorical, in their lives simply swamped them and the joy of the season was muted.

A friend of mine, Ralphie, participated in a Blue Christmas service last year.  He and LN invited me to attend.  I had other things happening and couldn't, but this year, oh this year, I have been anticipating that service with a ferocity.  I need to be able to sit, in the midst of the joy of the Christmas season, and allow the pain and sorrow of this last year to surface.  I need the church universal to stand with me in my grief and pain and give me a space, with Christmas decorations all around, to allow the tears to flow and my heart to grieve the loss of my Dad.  (Of course, it will probably be held on the weekend that I have planned to be out of town but still, if I'm around, I'M THERE!)

Awhile back, in a group I am a part of on FB, a thread was started about Blue Christmas services and among the comments was one that triggered a reaction.  A very strong reaction.  I shut down FB, walked away from the computer and cried.  I don't believe the comment wasn't meant for harm, simply an observation from one person's perspective.  In that moment, however, I was thrown back into a state of wondering why I do church anymore.  

My reaction wasn't rational, yet at the same time there is an element that I believe church folks need to hear and be reminded of, as we approach the season of Christmas.   I can only speak from my perspective and so I offer my truth this Christmas season.  I love Jesus, I love the Christmas season and yet I'm going to have trouble finding joy this Christmas.

Please don't deny, belittle or otherwise make light of those who aren't joyful this Christmas season.  For it isn't Jesus' birth that makes us sad, it's the life and love we find and lose on this earth that brings sorrow, heartache and grief.  Yes, there is joy in Jesus and yes, there is joy in Christmas but the reality of life means we also deal with the reality of loss.  In diminishing or otherwise denying that reality, we risk alienating the very people who need us the most this Christmas season.

Ralphie asked if I would be willing to sing with him at the Blue Christmas service this year, a song that we had sung together three years ago at a joy-filled Christmas celebration.  I answered honestly, I'm not sure that I will be able to sing.  But, if I'm in town, I will pull out my guitar and play as he sings.  I will allow the words to penetrate my grief-stricken heart and give myself the space to be sad in a season of joy and take comfort in a body of believers who recognize "through all my tears, for what I've lost, there's still my joy for Christmas day."

http://youtu.be/qGLA3QNEyVA

Nit picking people

We've all met them...people who find fault with every.little.thing.

I usually handle these people as gracefully as possible or avoid them as best I can.

In my current job, avoiding isn't always possible.  One person I interact with, on an almost daily basis, finds something wrong WITH EVERYONE.  I, of course, have to send items to them for review and they always come back with "YOU" did this wrong or "YOU" did that wrong.  That is usually followed by a phone call telling me again why it was wrong and then they go off on a rant about the 50 other people who have done something wrong in the last hour that had to be corrected by this individual.  I recognize the insecurity of the other person behind their nitpicking.  I see the hidden feelings of inadequacy and recognize they are trying to feel better about themselves by making others look "worse".  I get it but I don't like it.  Sometimes I just get tired of it all.

I'm not a perfect person. I mess up.  A lot.  I apologize for my mistakes and try not to beat myself up too much...because really, I want to be perfect and every mistake reinforces the knowledge that I am not now nor will I ever be perfect.

There are times when my skin is thick enough to take criticism and nitpicking.  I let it roll right off of my back and move on to things that are of more importance.  Right now is not that time.  My skin is pretty thin.  I'm having a hard enough time just getting up to go to work in the morning; putting on an extra layer of toughness just isn't happening.  Everything feels personal, whether it is or isn't, justified or not.  My emotions are right at the surface and tears come forth without warning...sometimes I don't even realize they are rolling down my face.

I'm a little extra touchy these days, a little extra weary, very low on grace and just barely hanging on.  So to all you nit-pickers out there, if you pick on me and I start to cry, well, don't say I didn't warn you.  

A conversation with Adventure Boy

Adventure Boy and I were walking to an attraction at a famous amusement park recently when the following conversation took place.

Adventure Boy: Grandma (aka Yo Momma) is older than you.
Me: Yes.
AB:  So she will probably die before you.
Me: Yes.
AB: You're gonna be really sad then.
Me (thinking to myself: "Oh, I am no where near ready for that to happen and I'm trying not to cry thinking about that now.") Out loud: Yes, I will be very sad.
AB:  You're going to need me then because you will be alone.
Me (now desperately trying to talk around the torrent of tears threatening): Yes, AB, I am really going to need you then.
AB:  I will be there...because you don't have a husband yet.
Me (tears gone, laughter bubbling): Well, have you been looking for a husband for me?
AB: Yes, yes I have.
Me: Okay, let me know if you find someone.
AB: I will.

Sometimes the depths of this child's soul and thoughts astounds me...love, love, love him!

Earthquakes

A few weekends ago an earthquake struck the region in which I reside.  We are far enough away from the epicenter that we only felt the quake but didn't have any damage.  I woke up just before the rolling waves of the quake began.  The hanging plants were swaying and making a creaking sound, which is what I think first woke me up. As soon as I heard and felt the first wave, my whole body went on alert.  I was ready to pull the pillow over my head or jump out of bed and dash to the doorway.  It would have taken one thing falling for me to jump into action...been there, done that.

In the days since, I've become a frequent visitor to the Earthquake part of the USGS website.  This website shows all the recorded earthquakes in a 24 hour period around the world.  Folks, the earth is moving a lot.  Looking right now at the map, in the last 24 hours there have been 12 earthquakes over a 4.0. It's fascinating to see what is happening around the world that most of us never hear about...it's also fascinating to see what makes national headlines and what doesn't.  An earthquake that knocks down buildings and buckles roads get a lot more press than an earthquake in the middle of the ocean.

I've been paying attention to the national news a lot in the past few weeks.  I've seen the headlines and my heart breaks.  I feel helpless, in some ways, way to privileged in others, and I've become more and more aware of how sheltered my world is compared to others.  I work at not standing in denial of the unfair treatment of others and the realities of that unequal treatment but also struggle with a sense of what I can actually do to change the situation.  So I sit back, murmuring slightly, taking a good, hard look at my own soul, my own thoughts, my own reactions, judging my own thoughts and feelings and digging down deeper to my own, dare I say it, prejudices.  I may not be in the epicenter of this particular "earthquake" but I am feeling the rolling waves and am on alert.

There are people within my circle of acquaintances, family and friends that have said things over the years that make me cringe, blatantly racist or derogatory things said with little smiles that are just plain wrong. There are times when I could have spoken up and pointed those statements out and haven't.  There are moments when I have judged someone because of their differences from me, only later to find that I was completely and totally wrong.  I have allowed my own fears to get in the way when I have heard or seen an injustice.  I've lived in my own little world and turned a blind eye, at times, to the larger world that is filled with injustice and suffering.  It's not anything I am proud of, and I could make a million excuses for not doing, saying, seeing more of what the world really is like.  But sometimes it's just like earthquakes, among the little ripples happening all the time that I am unaware of, one suddenly jolts me out of my complacency and demands attention.

I'm paying attention to earthquakes these days...those that make the physical earth shake and those that shake my social and world views.