A few weeks back I sat in on a discussion/exploration of Genesis 2. It was led by a professor of Religious Studies at the church I currently attend. As the discussion unfolded, I became more and more aware of how context can influence the Bible. Understanding who the text was originally written to (and by), what was normative understanding for their culture at the time and how certain words could have different meanings are important to interpreting the text itself. It wasn't a new thought, more a reaffirmation of conclusions I have come to on this journey of faith. I left the discussion that night excited and inspired. As an aside, a Bible Study group I had been a part of a few years back, took on Genesis 2 and pulled it apart FOR WEEKS. We came away with many of the same conclusions the professor of Religious Studies had made that evening...yes!
The day or so after the shootings in Charleston, South Carolina, there was a national news agency that attempted to change the intentions of the shooter. The original context of the incident seemed clear to me; the white culture in the United States continues to struggle with racism, with seeing others with different colored skin as lesser than or as a threat and this young man, in particular, choose to act on his fears and racism. 9 people died because of that continued struggle with racism. Yet, because it happened in a church, this news agency kept trying to change the context...it wasn't about race, it was about belief in Jesus. I'm not buying it.
The headlines I saw last Monday morning on my Yahoo page attempted to take the context of words spoken by the President of the United States and manipulate them to have people jump to a conclusion without reading the actual statement made by POTUS. (Yes, I have watched every episode of West Wing...multiple times. Thanks, Netflix!) The actual statement is bold and truthful...we have a long way to go in this country in regards to racism.
As a white, middle class woman I take a lot for granted. I haven't experienced much in the way of discrimination. I can't put myself in that context...but I can watch, listen, learn and change my own way of thinking. I can speak up in my social and family circles when something is said that sets off my racism radar. I can choose my own words carefully and wisely.
It's past time to starting looking at the context of racism in the culture of the United States. It's time for us to re-examine our ideas about those who "look" different and stop feeding the fear that keeps racism alive. As a wise person once said, "When you do what you always do, you get what you always get." It's time to do something different.
I'm not going to try to change the context of the events of the last two weeks...but I am going to start to change me.
*This post was powered by my respect for Opinionated Friend and the freedom she has to express her opinions. Many times I get stuck in fear of saying something that will offend others. A recent discussion with OF reminded me that it's okay to say what I'm feeling and thinking...a well timed lesson indeed. Thanks, OF!
Sunday, June 28, 2015
Sunday, June 14, 2015
Done
Last spring, Youth Pastor friend made the decision to step away from full-time ministry. Can I just say, for the record, the timing between Youth Pastor friend making his decision official and leaving and my Dad's diagnosis and death really, really *ahem* stunk. But that's all for another post. Anyway, Youth Pastor friend's last day was the last Sunday in July 2014. A day later we learned there was a new Children and Youth Director starting the following Friday. A day later.
Side note: On behalf of volunteers in churches, I humbly ask that church hiring committees include at least one person who is involved in the specific ministry in question in the conversation about who is being hired...they don't have to be on the committee but at the very least ask for their input and then keep them in the loop about where the process stands. I cannot emphasize that last part enough.
It was a rocky start. The volunteer leaders were incredibly offended by the lack of communication (or warning) of someone new coming on board. Eventually, I sat down with the Lead Pastor and had a very open and honest conversation about the whole thing...as a volunteer and as former youth director. It was an incredibly wonderful, refreshing conversation.
The New Director was gracious and willing to work with the team and couldn't be faulted for the beginning. However, new beginnings are always difficult, especially with a group of 15 High School Seniors who just didn't want to adjust to a new person. It was tough going. As we moved farther and farther along, the High School leaders were all coming to a realization. All five of us, unbeknownst to the others, decided we were done. D.O.N.E. It wasn't healthy for us to continue as volunteers, knowing that we were having a hard time with some changes and feeling as though we were part of the reason why the group wasn't able to move forward. And then New Director announced his resignation.
It was when we sat down with some church leaders to discuss how things were going to proceed (yes, I pushed that meeting) that we all figured out just close we had all come to quitting. As we talked, it became apparent that we could keep things running through the end of the school year but after that two of the leaders definitely couldn't continue, one leader could continue but only until August, another leader was on the fence and really needed a break and then there was me. Four years ago, I could have run the program all summer by myself...when I was in full-time ministry! Now, there's not a chance. My 45+ hour a week job/commute barely allows me to be a competent volunteer.
So, the volunteers agreed to run weekly meetings through the end of the school year. We've been very open about our intentions with the Deacon board. We just can't keep going at the rate we're going. It's painful. It's hard to seemingly walk away from the students and this program that we have invested ourselves so deeply in, but this youth ministry train needs a really good engineer who is going to put time and energy it and make it work. We just can't keep pushing the train with a missing wheel, a wonky track and no coal or steam to power it.
Parents and church members have not been afraid to let me/us know just how they feel about the lack of youth group over the summer. I walked into church this morning and the person leading the announcements and prayer* started off by saying how disappointed she and her 14 year old son were that there wasn't anything happening over the summer. Not in a "we're so thankful for the volunteers who kept this going for the last three months and know they need a break" understanding kind of way, either. Then the person reading the scripture said pretty much the same thing. And then someone after church stopped me and said the same thing. Not one of those individuals volunteered to help do anything about the situation, though. They just lamented at the lack of something happening.
I left church this morning really, really tired, discouraged and done in a whole new sense. I don't need daily thank yous or to be told how wonderful we are, but I do need to hear grace, compassion and understanding amongst the laments. Sadly, in this situation, that has been lacking. One of the youth volunteers said on Wednesday night, as we were kind of debriefing and looking ahead, "I won't be coming to this church again." Wednesday night I was frustrated with that statement...this morning I got it.
*She also chastised those of us who come late to church on Sundays...and then her sons and husband walked into the sanctuary five minutes later. Words fail.
Side note: On behalf of volunteers in churches, I humbly ask that church hiring committees include at least one person who is involved in the specific ministry in question in the conversation about who is being hired...they don't have to be on the committee but at the very least ask for their input and then keep them in the loop about where the process stands. I cannot emphasize that last part enough.
It was a rocky start. The volunteer leaders were incredibly offended by the lack of communication (or warning) of someone new coming on board. Eventually, I sat down with the Lead Pastor and had a very open and honest conversation about the whole thing...as a volunteer and as former youth director. It was an incredibly wonderful, refreshing conversation.
The New Director was gracious and willing to work with the team and couldn't be faulted for the beginning. However, new beginnings are always difficult, especially with a group of 15 High School Seniors who just didn't want to adjust to a new person. It was tough going. As we moved farther and farther along, the High School leaders were all coming to a realization. All five of us, unbeknownst to the others, decided we were done. D.O.N.E. It wasn't healthy for us to continue as volunteers, knowing that we were having a hard time with some changes and feeling as though we were part of the reason why the group wasn't able to move forward. And then New Director announced his resignation.
It was when we sat down with some church leaders to discuss how things were going to proceed (yes, I pushed that meeting) that we all figured out just close we had all come to quitting. As we talked, it became apparent that we could keep things running through the end of the school year but after that two of the leaders definitely couldn't continue, one leader could continue but only until August, another leader was on the fence and really needed a break and then there was me. Four years ago, I could have run the program all summer by myself...when I was in full-time ministry! Now, there's not a chance. My 45+ hour a week job/commute barely allows me to be a competent volunteer.
So, the volunteers agreed to run weekly meetings through the end of the school year. We've been very open about our intentions with the Deacon board. We just can't keep going at the rate we're going. It's painful. It's hard to seemingly walk away from the students and this program that we have invested ourselves so deeply in, but this youth ministry train needs a really good engineer who is going to put time and energy it and make it work. We just can't keep pushing the train with a missing wheel, a wonky track and no coal or steam to power it.
Parents and church members have not been afraid to let me/us know just how they feel about the lack of youth group over the summer. I walked into church this morning and the person leading the announcements and prayer* started off by saying how disappointed she and her 14 year old son were that there wasn't anything happening over the summer. Not in a "we're so thankful for the volunteers who kept this going for the last three months and know they need a break" understanding kind of way, either. Then the person reading the scripture said pretty much the same thing. And then someone after church stopped me and said the same thing. Not one of those individuals volunteered to help do anything about the situation, though. They just lamented at the lack of something happening.
I left church this morning really, really tired, discouraged and done in a whole new sense. I don't need daily thank yous or to be told how wonderful we are, but I do need to hear grace, compassion and understanding amongst the laments. Sadly, in this situation, that has been lacking. One of the youth volunteers said on Wednesday night, as we were kind of debriefing and looking ahead, "I won't be coming to this church again." Wednesday night I was frustrated with that statement...this morning I got it.
*She also chastised those of us who come late to church on Sundays...and then her sons and husband walked into the sanctuary five minutes later. Words fail.
Wednesday, June 3, 2015
A year and a day...
The last family photo we took together was found on my Dad's computer just days after he died. He had this way of taking photo's and then editing them and never doing anything with them or at least we family members never saw them again. As soon as I saw it, I remembered taking the photo in the house in Tahoe, Thanksgiving night 2013.
We took several photos, with Dad setting up the camera and trying to figure out the timer and then rushing to sit on the arm of the couch. Little did we know, as we sat there giving him a bad time, that would be the last official "O" family photo we would have.
The man sitting on arm of the couch on the left, in this photo, just shouldn't have died so soon. There is a part of me that wishes he would just get up off the arm of the couch, walk in the room and say "Gotcha!" and erase all the pain and sorrow of the last year.
What I wouldn't give for just one more family photo.
What I wouldn't give for just one more family photo.
Monday, May 25, 2015
Memories of Memorial Day
Last year I spent Memorial Day sitting by Papa Bear's bedside, with the gradual realization hitting my soul...I was losing my Dad. By the end of the day, I had first hand experience with what happens when a crash team is called into a room at a hospital. I stood in the corner, trying really hard to be brave and strong. Really, I was falling apart.
The crash team was accompanied by the hospital chaplain, a woman, which made me extremely happy. She made her way into the room, stood by my side, put her arm around me and said, "This is your dad? Can I pray?" I'm pretty sure I fervently said yes, please and then she prayed. I don't remember the prayer but I remember the moment and the comfort I received, being reminded that God was there.
The past year has been tough. Really, really tough. In the last year I've realized that I didn't just lose my Dad that week, I lost one of my best friends. The friend that greeted me each day when I came home. The friend that I talked politics with, watched Giants (baseball) with and the Jon Stewart show on occasion. I lost a friend who helped me see beyond myself and my little world, who urged me to explore, cheered me on and made me laugh, even when I really didn't want to laugh - I cannot tell you how frustrated that skill made me as a teenager!
A month or so after Papa Bear died, I was in Star$ and ran into a friend. It was one of those days where I had woken up crying and just continued to cry throughout the day. I was holding it as together as I could, while getting my coffee before going to work, when I saw this friend. He came over and said "How are you?" and the tears started again. This friend looked at me, with the wisdom of someone who knew about grief and said "It comes in waves. Just ride the waves."
This week, I'm going to be riding the waves. The waves of memories of the week when life changed irrevocably, the waves of pain that have been hidden under a protective layer for a few months, the waves of loss and loneliness. Yep, this week I'm going to be riding the waves. I miss my Dad...a lot.
The crash team was accompanied by the hospital chaplain, a woman, which made me extremely happy. She made her way into the room, stood by my side, put her arm around me and said, "This is your dad? Can I pray?" I'm pretty sure I fervently said yes, please and then she prayed. I don't remember the prayer but I remember the moment and the comfort I received, being reminded that God was there.
The past year has been tough. Really, really tough. In the last year I've realized that I didn't just lose my Dad that week, I lost one of my best friends. The friend that greeted me each day when I came home. The friend that I talked politics with, watched Giants (baseball) with and the Jon Stewart show on occasion. I lost a friend who helped me see beyond myself and my little world, who urged me to explore, cheered me on and made me laugh, even when I really didn't want to laugh - I cannot tell you how frustrated that skill made me as a teenager!
A month or so after Papa Bear died, I was in Star$ and ran into a friend. It was one of those days where I had woken up crying and just continued to cry throughout the day. I was holding it as together as I could, while getting my coffee before going to work, when I saw this friend. He came over and said "How are you?" and the tears started again. This friend looked at me, with the wisdom of someone who knew about grief and said "It comes in waves. Just ride the waves."
This week, I'm going to be riding the waves. The waves of memories of the week when life changed irrevocably, the waves of pain that have been hidden under a protective layer for a few months, the waves of loss and loneliness. Yep, this week I'm going to be riding the waves. I miss my Dad...a lot.
Thursday, May 14, 2015
Getting back in the game
My blog feed reader, Feedly, was filled today with blog posts by individuals that are titled "How To...". I looked at those titles this morning and closed Feedly without reading a single one. I may be in one of those moods but I just don't want to read a "how to" post on being a better Christ follower or person, the formulaic sound of those titles just turned me off. As I've mulled over it I realized that blogging, in the years since I started (8 years ago this coming Sunday!), has changed.
I rarely read blog posts about a regular persons life anymore. I read sermons, or "how to's" or blog articlesbemoaning about the changing culture of Christianity. I read blog articles telling me how to live a better life or the 15 steps I need to take to be a better person but rarely, anymore, do I giggle over stories about someone's day or sit and cry in a crowded airport as someone I have never met shares their heartache over lost relationships in a heart wrenching blog post. What I want to read is about the messy, mundane, at-times spectacularly unsuccessful regular persons life.
I miss those posts. I miss the humanity in those posts. I miss the connections. I miss blogging, myself. So, here and now, I vow to return to regular blogging (minimum once a week). I'll be one messy, mundane, at-times spectacularly unsuccessful regular person who shares her messy, mundane, at-times spectacularly unsuccessful life with those who care to read about it...one blog post at a time.
I rarely read blog posts about a regular persons life anymore. I read sermons, or "how to's" or blog articles
I miss those posts. I miss the humanity in those posts. I miss the connections. I miss blogging, myself. So, here and now, I vow to return to regular blogging (minimum once a week). I'll be one messy, mundane, at-times spectacularly unsuccessful regular person who shares her messy, mundane, at-times spectacularly unsuccessful life with those who care to read about it...one blog post at a time.
Friday, May 1, 2015
Well Hello...
Long time no see.
Yes, I still exist. Yes, I do remember I have a blog. Yes, I do miss writing here.
I'm finding writing difficult, these days. My work days have me up between 5:45 and 6:30am, depending on the day, out the door by 7:25 (at the latest) and home between 5:45pm and 6:30pm...depending on the day. There is a span between Tuesday evening and Thursday evening that I usually don't even see Yo Momma...and we live in the same house! The last thing Iwant to do have energy for when I get home from work, in the two or so hours before I go to bed, is think and write a blog post.
The weekends aren't much better. Being a true introvert, my Saturdays are usually spent trying to recharge so that I can call up all the energy I need to pretend to be an extrovert for work on Monday...and church on Sunday. Add in the weight of grief and depression I've been dealing with for awhile now, and well, I just don't want to think very hard on the weekends either.
The time that inspiration does strike I'm usually either,
Actually, a lot of things, and people, sit waiting for attention. I just don't have the energy, mental, physical or emotional.
I've struggled with the guilt of seemingly letting people down. It is difficult to navigate the road of other's expectations and my own mental and emotional health. I've had people try to shove guilt on my head and I've had people look me in the eye and say "You have permission to focus on yourself, to take care of yourself." I'm trying to listen to the latter group. What I realize is that I am not the person I was in April 2014. I've changed...life has changed, not just in the last year but in the last three years...and I can't go back to being the person I was.
I'm wounded. I'm healing. The scars are still fresh and painful to the touch. I'm waiting for the day when they just ache but that's still a long ways off. Until then, I get by the best I can. It's all I can do at the moment...and that's enough.
Yes, I still exist. Yes, I do remember I have a blog. Yes, I do miss writing here.
I'm finding writing difficult, these days. My work days have me up between 5:45 and 6:30am, depending on the day, out the door by 7:25 (at the latest) and home between 5:45pm and 6:30pm...depending on the day. There is a span between Tuesday evening and Thursday evening that I usually don't even see Yo Momma...and we live in the same house! The last thing I
The weekends aren't much better. Being a true introvert, my Saturdays are usually spent trying to recharge so that I can call up all the energy I need to pretend to be an extrovert for work on Monday...and church on Sunday. Add in the weight of grief and depression I've been dealing with for awhile now, and well, I just don't want to think very hard on the weekends either.
The time that inspiration does strike I'm usually either,
- In the car driving to or from work.
- At work.
Actually, a lot of things, and people, sit waiting for attention. I just don't have the energy, mental, physical or emotional.
I've struggled with the guilt of seemingly letting people down. It is difficult to navigate the road of other's expectations and my own mental and emotional health. I've had people try to shove guilt on my head and I've had people look me in the eye and say "You have permission to focus on yourself, to take care of yourself." I'm trying to listen to the latter group. What I realize is that I am not the person I was in April 2014. I've changed...life has changed, not just in the last year but in the last three years...and I can't go back to being the person I was.
I'm wounded. I'm healing. The scars are still fresh and painful to the touch. I'm waiting for the day when they just ache but that's still a long ways off. Until then, I get by the best I can. It's all I can do at the moment...and that's enough.
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Where am I going...I don't know
I had a visitor in the office yesterday. He just showed up. We hadn't met before but he had a couple of questions, knew the office address so he came by. Seeing as how I send out monthly newsletters to over 3000 people and the office address is on the newsletter, I'm actually surprised I don't have more unexpected visitors.
This gentleman sat and talked for quite a while. He has a heart for helping those in need, for helping people find their voice and using that voice to better the world and their lives. I think I answered his questions...actually, I think he just needed someone to listen, and so I did the job required of me for that moment. As he was getting ready to leave, he asked me, "So, what great things are you going to do?" My answer, which is standard when I don't haven an answer was, "That is a great question. I have no idea."
It's true. I have no idea. I know that I'm marking time on the calendar, making check marks next to the days and there is a placeholder where my future goals are at the moment. Some of that is residual from starting a new chapter in life 3 years ago, taking a leap of faith into the great unknown. Some of that is the continuing journey of grief and knowing that my soul is still healing. But really, I just don't know where I am going or what I want to be when I "grow up".
What I do know is that I have a job. A good job, with good people. But a job that doesn't completely satisfy my soul. I do know that I have a story to tell and a desire to help other people. I do know that I can do more than what I am doing right now...I just don't know what that looks like. I don't know where I'm going.
Growing up, I developed a love for a non-typical Clint Eastwood movie called "Paint Your Wagon". The movie was musical of sorts, set during the California Gold Rush. Ever since my visitor yesterday, I've had the chorus of one of the songs in my head...
"Where am I going?
I don't know.
Where am I headin'?
I ain't certain.
All I know is I am on my way."
I know at some point in time, I'll look back at this period and life and connect the dots. I'll have new stories to tell and new revelations but until then, I don't know where I'm going...all I know is I am on my way.
(The video below is not from the movie...but the song is!)
This gentleman sat and talked for quite a while. He has a heart for helping those in need, for helping people find their voice and using that voice to better the world and their lives. I think I answered his questions...actually, I think he just needed someone to listen, and so I did the job required of me for that moment. As he was getting ready to leave, he asked me, "So, what great things are you going to do?" My answer, which is standard when I don't haven an answer was, "That is a great question. I have no idea."
It's true. I have no idea. I know that I'm marking time on the calendar, making check marks next to the days and there is a placeholder where my future goals are at the moment. Some of that is residual from starting a new chapter in life 3 years ago, taking a leap of faith into the great unknown. Some of that is the continuing journey of grief and knowing that my soul is still healing. But really, I just don't know where I am going or what I want to be when I "grow up".
What I do know is that I have a job. A good job, with good people. But a job that doesn't completely satisfy my soul. I do know that I have a story to tell and a desire to help other people. I do know that I can do more than what I am doing right now...I just don't know what that looks like. I don't know where I'm going.
Growing up, I developed a love for a non-typical Clint Eastwood movie called "Paint Your Wagon". The movie was musical of sorts, set during the California Gold Rush. Ever since my visitor yesterday, I've had the chorus of one of the songs in my head...
"Where am I going?
I don't know.
Where am I headin'?
I ain't certain.
All I know is I am on my way."
I know at some point in time, I'll look back at this period and life and connect the dots. I'll have new stories to tell and new revelations but until then, I don't know where I'm going...all I know is I am on my way.
(The video below is not from the movie...but the song is!)
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