90 Minutes

 

Once upon a time, 

There was a woman named 90 Minutes. 

90 Minutes got her name by spending 90 minutes of a 405-minute class talking. 

She dominated conversation

With stories, interruptions, and certainties that contradicted even the professor. 

When others spoke,

She didn’t receive their words. 

And so they wrote. 

And thought. 

And breathed. 

And prayed. 

And remembered a wise sage’s words:

She can be your teacher. 

Pay attention to what you can learn. 

 

And so they learned, 

With 90 minutes as their guide. 

 

They learned to remember that there are people who are truly opposite from them. Some people really care about scholarly things like history and word origin and statistics and data. When you don’t, you still need to give a scholarly nod to those who do. 

 

They learned to remember that some people process out loud and/or struggle with boundaries and/or self-awareness.

 

They learned to remember that some people have deep wounds that come out in wonky ways.

 

They learned to recognize that stress levels increase in their bodies when they hear crinkling snack wrappers and crunching during the middle of class. 

 

They learned to recognize but not judge their pride. 

 

They learned to identify their judgmental limits.

 

And they learned that, in general, they really are gracious people who give others the benefit of the doubt. And when they can’t, they at least have the intention of grace. And that intention can go a long way. 

 

Yes, they learned. 

And 90 minutes was their guide. 

 

She taught them everything they were not expecting to learn. 

 

And more. 

 

The end. 

Modify and Adapt

 

Today is my 47th birthday.

And on this 47th birthday,

I want to share a little piece of wisdom that I received from Barb My First Art Teacher at the end of my 47th year:

 

We must modify and adapt.

 

When Barb and I first began our teaching careers,

We went to the local Walmart and each bought little tool kits.

The whole set of tools was only $4.98, and they were magnetic!

I can’t tell you how many times B and I have used our tools over the years.

Through all our schools,

All our classrooms,

And all our years,

Our tools have been with us,

Offering their help and assistance.

 

While my tools have remained in tact,

My toolbox itself has broken.

It’s a little blue box with a broken handle and latch,

But I kept it because it reminds me of B.

 

Well, I was at Lidl a couple weeks ago,

I saw a new black toolbox that I knew would hold my tools perfectly.

Not wanting to betray Barb,

I wrote and asked if she still had her little blue toolbox.

She responded that she still had the tools but that but she wasn’t sure where the box was.

I shared my sentimental dilemma.

She responded,

“You have to modify and adapt.”

 

And that was that.

 

I bought the black toolbox.

 

It’s no secret that I attach feelings to objects.

It’s no secret that I have trouble getting rid of things because of this attachment.

But maybe this year, little by little,

I will be able to modify and adapt,

To let go and move on.

 

God: Thank you for life, and thank you for another year of lessons learned and lessons yet to learn. Help me, God, as I continue to learn to modify and adapt, to let go and move on. Help me to use my time and resources in ways that honor life, for you are the Life-Giver who makes all things possible. Amen.

 

Mandrakes

 

“I know that it’s just God testing us,” she said.

“Maybe,” I said. “Maybe not.”

Then she went on to share the things going on in her life

And reiterated the belief that the tough parts were God testing her faith.

 

“Are you a fan of Harry Potter?” I asked.

“We haven’t watched the movies yet, but we want to,” she responded.

“Well,” I said, “there’s a plant in the stories called the mandrake.

When the mandrake grows, it must be removed from its pot and placed into a bigger pot.

During the process, the mandrake screams terrible screams

Because he/she doesn’t like the process of being pulled from comfort

And placed into the unknown.

I like to liken our lives to the mandrakes.

When we outgrow our circumstances,

Oftentimes after periods of rapid growth that come from difficult experiences,

We need a new place to be.

Yet we kick and scream and throw a fit in the process of being transported

Because it is unfamiliar, new and raw and uncomfortable.

But then, when we finally make it,

We have a new pot in which to continue growing.

I don’t know that God sits in heaven with a clip board and zaps down when it is time for us to grow and change through periods of hardship,

Or if life just happens and God then works with us to create something good from the mess.

I just know that God is a good God, a God of creation,

And that we are sometimes mandrakes screaming against what is best for us in the process.”

 

“Wow,” she said, “I have goose bumps. Thank you.”

And then the car rider line moved forward and I kept calling names.

  

God: Help us to see more than the image of You with a clipboard and staff, zapping those who have done wrong, bringing intentional tests and hardships to some, while blessing beyond measure others. There is so much mystery in You. There is so much we don’t know—so many contradictions of your character in scripture—so many views of you in this world. But, God, you are good, you are Love, and you are Creator God, and you gently handle us when you’re repotting us from one place to another. Thank you for designing us to grow. Thank you for giving us the space to change. Thank you for being patient with us in the screaming, and for not just dropping us and making us find our way on our own. Again, God, you are good, you are Love, and you are Creator God. And for that, amongst so many other things, we say thanks. Amen.

You're Growing

Mom and I just finished cleaning out the freezer and the pantry. It seems just like yesterday we were doing the same things, and yet…three bags of trash later, I realize just how long it’s really been.

I thought to myself, “Time moves so quickly. The days just keep turning to months and the months keep turning to years before we even know it.”

And then I thought of a song that I wrote many years ago.

For anyone who knows anyone who is growing in any way (which is really all of us)—especially for those of you with graduates this year…this song is for you.

May it express your feelings toward your loved ones…and may we be life’s biggest cheerleaders for those we love most.

You’re growing up fast
Time’s slipping away
I can’t do a thing to make you stay
With me
You’re growing

Days turn to months
And months turn to years
And years turn to memories that I have to hold dear
To my heart
You’re growing

I’ve known that in this life God would bring me to a place
Where I’d have to lag behind and let you run your own race
But now the time is here and it’s harder than it seemed
Letting go’s not easy though I have to set you free
‘Cause you’re growing

I look at you now
And I have to smile
Knowing where you’ve been and where you are
Right now
Growing

We’ve weathered some storms
As we’ve chased our dreams
We’ve laughed and we’ve cried and we’ve learned how
To love
Growing

(repeat chorus)

I’ll think of you every day
And when I do
I’ll fall on my knees
And pray
As you’re growing

I can’t carry your cross
But I know one who can
God’s standing beside you and reaching out
God’s hand
As you’re growing

I’ve known that in this life God would bring me to a place
Where I’d have to set you free and let you run your own race
But now the time is here and it’s harder than it seemed
Letting go’s not easy though I have to set you free
‘Cause you’re growing

Loyal to Suffering

“We are loyal to our suffering,” she said.

“What do you mean?” he said.

“Our human nature is geared toward struggling,” she said.
“And society tries to convince us that
we must always live in fear.”

“But how does that make us loyal to suffering?” he said.

“In the absence of fear or struggle,” she said,
“In the presence of contentment and courage—
We are led to believe that something is wrong.”

“Go on,” he said.

“We find something to worry about,” she said.
“We create something to fear because it feels right.
We are loyal to our suffering.”

“Oh,” he said.
“But that’s not how it’s supposed to be.”

“No,” she said.
“The journey is learning to be fully present
exactly where we are.”

“In bad times and good,” he said.

“Yes,” she said.
“The journey is falling into Peace
And trusting That which passes understanding.”

“Even when it means being okay that things are going okay?” he said.

“Even when it means being okay that things are going okay!” she said.

“Thanks,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” she said.
“Now go be disloyal to suffering.
Go live into Peace.”

The World When Jesus Was Alive

And I keep having this one thought: There were Native American persons living, breathing, and tending the land that became the United States of America…while Jesus was living, breathing, and tending the souls of people across the world.

I can’t explain why. But this thought has hijacked my mind and it’s pretty much all I can think about this Advent season.

It fascinates me.

It puts new perspective on the Great Commission—on the call to go into all the world and share the gospel of Jesus Christ.

What WAS all the world in the disciple’s minds? Jesus never went beyond 200 miles from home. We know from Paul’s journeys that people knew about Rome…and we know from other stories that Ethiopia and Egypt were on the map…so we can guess that there was a general understanding of European, Asian, and African lands. But just how much of the rest of the world was even imagined when Jesus was alive? Australia? South America? North America?

And to think that persons on those continents had NO IDEA that a man named Jesus existed…and yet, now, all these years later, Jesus is known around the world…one man, one young life, one sacrifice, known by most of humankind.

It blows my mind.

What is something that has blown your mind recently? What is something that you’ve learned? What is something on your mind today? I’d love to hear.

A Very, Very Good Thing

Until Jack the Nephew came along, the Harry Potter series intimidated me. Not because of subject matter, character, or plot line. But because the books are so thick!

But when Jack started reading and liking the series, I decided that it was time for me to tackle it as well. With my ears, of course. But still: thick printed books make for long audio books.

Considering that I’ve now read the entire series twice (which is hundreds of hours of reading—with my ears, of course), watched each of the movies at least three times, and made Harry Potter references a regular part of conversation, I think it’s safe to say that I’m glad that Jack unintentionally nudged me toward overcoming my book-intimidation.

On Friday night, my sister and her family held their annual Halloween party. This year’s theme? Zombies vs. Harry Potter. Being the terrible Halloween-er that I am, I dressed as a muggle who sort of felt like a zombie after finishing the week’s work, but I enjoyed identifying other people’s costumes nonetheless. My sister dressed as Moaning Myrtle and wore a toilet seat around her neck. My brother-in-law dressed as Oliver Wood. Griffin the Nephew dressed as Harry Potter. Amelia the Niece dressed as Jenny Weasley—complete with red hair. And Dumbledore, Valdemort, Professor Umbridge, Rita Skeeter, Hedwig, MadEye Moody, Bellatrix Lestrange, Harry’s petronas, a nitch, and a dementor were some of the other characters who attended the party.

In the spirit of the weekend, my sister asked if I’d like to join the family at the North Carolina Symphony on Saturday. They were playing music from…Harry Potter! I said yes. And I wore my brother-in-law’s Gryffindor robe so that I’d more fully belong :-).

After we waded through the sea of families dressed in all sorts of costumes, and climbed all the way to the top of the auditorium—literally—our seats were on the back row—and after I climbed all the way back down to the foyer because we forgot to get programs—I noticed something interesting: The guest symphony conductor was a woman.

As my sister and I discussed how unusually neat it was to have a woman conductor, Amelia looked at me and said, “Is it not normal to have a female conductor?”

I said, “No, sweetpea. Most of the time, when you go to a symphony concert, the conductor is a man. It’s actually very unusual to see a female conductor. We get to see something special today.”

She said, “Oh. It’s not unusual for me. I don’t go to very many symphony concerts.”

Shortly after this conversation, we noticed that the guest illusionist (think stage magician) was also a woman. As a result, the same conversation ensued. Neither my sister nor I had seen many—if any—female illusionists—so we both realized the significance of the concert. Amelia, though—Amelia thought absolutely nothing about the fact that women were leading the day’s events. For Amelia, strong, female leadership is just normal.

This, to me, friends, is not a result of magic or a reality only of fictional literature.
This, to me, friends, seems the result of many slow years of change—years that are still changing.
And this, to me, is a very, very good thing.

Word of God Speak

When I was in middle school, I wore a jeans jacket stocked with pens, mechanical pencils, and a multitude of highlighters—highlighters of every color—most of them fat like magic markers. I carried the pens and pencils in my right inside pocket. I carried the highlighters in my left inside pocket. Hidden away. Like a secret stash. Yes. I am a nerd.

For some reason, I have a vague yet somewhat specific memory of going to youth Bible study in the sanctuary one night. We usually had Bible study in the church library. What I remember about that night is lying on the floor in the aisle of the sanctuary and laying out all of my pens, pencils, and highlighters in preparation for the night’s study. Do I remember anything else? No. I remember nothing else from that study. Just the pens, pencils, and highlighters. Yes. I am a nerd.

During that period of my life, I used a small, hardback The Student Bible. I’m pretty sure that I chose this bible because it includes a clearly laid out bible-reading guide. It’s sort of neat to see little middle school x’s in the boxes beside the scriptures that I read over twenty-five years ago. It’s also neat to see some of my middle school thoughts jotted in the margins. I don’t use my The Student Bible that often anymore, but I still keep it beside my bed for quick reference.

…

On Sunday morning, Mister Pastor Patrick preached from Acts 17:16-34. Here is abstract of his sermon: In this interesting story about Paul speaking to the intellectual elite in Athens, we see Paul’s willingness to engage a particular culture where it is. He speaks their philosophical language, he talks about their gods. And yet, Paul holds up the Gospel as the one, true truth and God as the one, true God. Ours is a mission of One, of the One truth and the One true God. We must move beyond even our own idols to preach this truth.

As I discussed Sunday’s sermon with my dad, I made the comment that I didn’t remember ever reading the passage that Patrick had preached from but that I really liked it. I was drawn to the fact that the people of Athens had prepared an altar to THE UNKNOWN GOD. Maybe it was the fear of missing a god and having that god punish them that led them to do it. But maybe it was because they knew on some level that there was a god bigger than any of their gods—but that they just didn’t know that god’s name…until Paul told them.

I was also really drawn to verses 27 and 28: God did this so that men would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from each one of us. For in him we live and move and have our being.

For in him
We live
And move
And have our being.

Wow.

…

On Sunday afternoon, as I was laying down for my Sunday afternoon nap, I reached for a Bible so that I could read next Sunday’s scripture passage. I wanted to ruminate while resting . The first Bible I found was my The Student Bible. As I was turning to Acts 21, I decided to take a detour through Acts 17. Remember, I couldn’t recollect reading the passage before that morning (even though I knew I’d probably read it for one of my divinity school classes.)

When I got to Acts 17, I laughed. Evidently, during my middle school years, I’d read Acts 17 and been drawn to verses 27 and 28. They were underlined. Probably with one of the pens or pencils that I carried on the inside of my jeans jacket.

…

The Word of God is timeless, friends.
And it speaks to us exactly when we need it.
Middle school. Middle life.
For in Christ,
The living Word,
We live
And move
And have our being.
Amen.

Helen's Courage

A few years ago, as I was trying to decide whether or not to go swimming at camp, I had the following conversation with a friend: Me: “I don’t always like to go swimming because I can’t see when I take off my glasses.” Friend: “Me either. And when I take my hearing aid out, you might as well call me Helen Keller.” So I did :-). I called her Helen for the rest of the summer and jokingly bought her a copy of “The Story of My Life” by Helen Keller. Surprisingly, she read the book! And she told me that it was a good read.

Fast forward to a few Sundays ago…Patrick was preaching a sermon in which he mentioned Jesus’ ability to move persons from darkness to light—to set persons free from bondage—to give voice to the voiceless. As his example to set up the idea, Patrick shared a bit of Helen Keller’s story—how she, though deaf and blind, was literally given a voice when she learned to read and write. Remembering the simple story from above and feeling totally fascinated by the notion of someone moving from darkness to light, I ordered “The Story of My Life” for myself.

In the week since I began listening to the book, I have watched YouTube videos of Helen’s life, mentioned her in more conversations than should be normal, and been absolutely amazed at her story—her insight, wisdom, intelligence, determination, gratitude, generous spirit, charity, writing, humility, positive attitude, and courage. Other than Jesus, Helen Keller has become the historical figure whom I’d most like to meet should time travel be possible, and her life has moved into a place of inspiration that is not finished inspiring.

It takes courage to set your mind to something at which you could easily fail. It takes courage to open your heart to things that could easily hurt you. It takes courage to face your fears.

For Helen, it took courage to set her mind to learning to sing and speak when she had no point of reference for sound. It took courage to decide to graduate from college when a college degree required taking classes in Greek, Hebrew, French, and German—when English didn’t even come naturally.

For others, it takes courage to:
apologize for speaking hurtful words;
leave a toxic, unhealthy relationship;
do the hard work of facing inner demons;
slowly open and create more space for life;
get out of bed each day;
stay sober;
get married;
have a baby.

I’ve witnessed a lot of courage recently.

I think Helen would be proud.

…

Courage: A Poem
Always know, dear friend, that God’s love and peace are real.
When you don’t have the courage to let go or the stamina to try,
rest in the certainty of God’s strength,
open yourself to the beauty of possibility,
trust in the promise of God’s amazing grace, and
remember that my love for you is real, too.

Smiling Back At Me

I almost quit.
I almost walked out of the hospital in March and didn’t go back.
But I decided to stay the course.
And I’m so glad that I did.
My one unit of Clinical Pastoral Education profoundly changed my life.

As I begin 2014, I can’t help but think back on 2013 and be grateful for the year that I had. As I wrote in last year’s beginning of the year note, I “got myself into God” and God did amazing things in, with, in-spite-of, and through me.

I learned that all I can really do in life is celebrate when I realize it’s safe to wear comfy shoes and then show up with my comfy shoes on and see what happens. Sometimes it will be wonderful. Sometimes it will not. But as long as I remain present, for however long or short I stay, life is there.

I learned that with as much as I’ve lost, there is so much more. With the death of one dream, there is the space for another to grow. With the loss of one hope, there is the addition of countless others. With the absence of one friend, there is the presence of many more. I am blessed. I am abundantly blessed. And no matter how much I’ve lost, there is so much more.

I learned that the gift giver must give. I am a natural gift giver. Giving gifts is an extension of my arms. But not everyone can receive those gifts without feeling as if the extension comes with strings attached. For some, gifts are or have been used to purchase affection, manipulate actions, or influence love. For some, receiving gifts sparks panic or creates guilt so deep that it overwhelms genuine care and good intention. I learned that this year. And I learned that I must be mindful not only of my need to give but also of the receivers’ abilities to receive. I must weigh the price of the gift with the emotional depth of connection. I must consider when not giving a gift is actually a better gift than anything I could create or buy. But I must not stop giving, for to stop giving is to suffocate a central part of who I am.

I learned that God is unpredictable. Never would I have imagined that I would be teaching again, yet my teaching stuff is unpacked, my music classroom is set, and my bedroom and car are both full of stuff to be taken to my greatest place of ministry yet. After I chose to stay the chaplaincy course in March, I chose to embrace the chaplaincy course for the long-haul. When I thought I was heading heart-first into more chaplaincy work, God was steering me toward the lowest performing school in the county and making it so abundantly clear that it was where I needed to be that all I could do was cry tears of excitedly ironic relief. God is so unpredictable. Yet. It’s kind of neat to see where God leads…especially when every experience prepares you for the next…and a preacher surprises you so profoundly that you truly desire to attend worship for the first time in years.

I was emotionally ambushed that day that I almost quit in March. Everything I thought I’d been doing right was evidently wrong and my ability to please people had failed. I was hurt. I was confused. I was exhausted. And I was ready to give up. Yet I didn’t. I dug down deep and found parts of myself that I didn’t know existed.

And my eyes were opened.

And my life was changed.

And my feet were freed to walk right back into the public schools to find the good that is, to give to my heart’s desire, and to sing with an unpredictable God who is smiling back at me.

Full, Expanded Circle

I’m looking out over the Winston Salem skyline as I write these words tonight. The sun is setting in the distance with beautiful oranges and purples and reds while the moon is shining bright just over my head. To my right, atop one of the tallest buildings in town, the American flag stands tall, one last reminder to say thank you to a veteran today.

I’ve attended fifteen hours of workshops and seminars over the past two days. The North Carolina Music Educator’s Professional Development has filled my Veteran's Day weekend, yet I’ve observed and learned a lot, and I’m glad for the opportunity to reconnect with old friends and add tools to my music teaching tool belt. My existing tools are still being dusted off after five years of disuse, so it’s nice to have some new ones.

Six years ago, I came to this conference immediately after leading worship with my now defunct band. I stayed until Tuesday and returned to real life to attend whatever class I was taking at the time. During that last conference, my body was here but my mind was not. In fact, I sat in the sessions reading books for divinity school. At that time, I was in the process of deciding whether to continue teaching or whether to pursue full-time ministry, and I had subconsciously begun a spiral downward that would land me in a very dark place in coming months.

After class that Tuesday night, I called a friend whom I often stopped by to visit and was greeted with the phrase, “We don’t know where Kay is.” Within an hour, we were standing at Kay’s house watching rescue workers roll away her body. After getting my band settled that Sunday, Kay, my friend, mentor, and music minister at the church, sick with a stomach virus, had gone home to fight the virus only to have the force of her sickness cause her heart to stop. The next few days were met with grieving, cleaning, planning, preparing for a funeral, and trying to wrap my mind around the fact that my band members and I were the last people to see Kay alive. I think I may have taken off that Wednesday from work.

As I watch darkness settle in tonight, I can’t help but think of the darkness that consumed me for so long after Kay died. I continued with life. I did everything I could not to let it interfere with my work; however, it was a reality I couldn’t shake. Yet just as I am seeing stars, planets, and man-made lights come into view before my eyes tonight, I know that I was surrounded by God’s presence and the presence of people who were light to me when I couldn’t find light within myself.

I stood in line at Starbucks this morning and thought to myself, “This little corner coffee shop is going to make more money in one day than I will make in an entire month.” I bought my food last night and today and thought to myself, “I’m not going to be reimbursed for this even though I’m working.” I listened to a colleague share about the challenges of a forced week of vocal rest. I thought, “She has devoted so much of herself to her job for so long that she has literally damaged her voice.”

For the past two days, during and between conference sessions, I have experienced so many different thoughts and emotions that it’s hard to put them on this page. Yet the overwhelming feelings that surround me right now are feelings of gratefulness and peace.

This is the first year I’ve focused on Veteran’s Day at school. I’m sad to admit that Veteran’s Day is a holiday that I have often overlooked. But not this year. This year I’m very mindful of the role that the men and women of our military play toward keeping our country safe and free and toward helping give dignity to many persons around the world. I’m very mindful of the sacrifices they make when leaving their families and loved ones to answer the call of duty. Teaching at a school where your students, parents, and colleagues are either in or married to someone in the military will open your eyes and shake your core as military planes fly overhead and practice bombs are dropped in the distance. So today I am humbly grateful to people beyond myself…but I am also grateful that life has brought me full-circle while allowing that circle to expand along the way.

Am I back in a profession to which I didn’t expect to return? Yes. Am I making tens of thousands of dollars less than I was? Yes. Do I know all of the latest tricks of the trade? No. Am I the best music teacher in the world? Absolutely not. Am I sad as I remember losing Kay? Yes. Do I curse the darkness that afterwards ensued? No. Could I have stopped it? I don’t think so. Do I regret going to South Carolina? No. Do I know that walking away from teaching for five years was exactly what I needed to do? Yes. Do I know that God has been with me every step of the way? Absolutely. And do I know that where I am right now is exactly where I need to be? Yes. Yes. Absolutely yes.

And so, for now, I am at peace.

Sun completely set. Moon shining even brighter. Flag still standing tall. Knowing that darkness must come for the night…but that joy will come in the morning…and then my students will challenge it :-)…yet everything will be okay.

Dear Grocery Store, I Miss You Already...

Week One Fast: Television and Social Media. Success. Sort of. I did well with Social Media but watched at least one TV show per night to keep me company and comfort Bullet in my dad’s absence.

Week Two Fast: Hurriedness. Success. Totally. I felt the slow-down in body and spirit.

Week Three Fast: Isolation. Success. Sort of. I tried really hard to make new connections with those around me but didn’t successfully spend time with anyone outside of my normal people—school people at school, family, Flora, and Barb. I’m going to continue working on this one while seeking to be mindful of personal boundaries.

Week Four Fast: Food. Food. Sigh.

My guess is that most of my fellow church-goers are fasting food (and drinks) such as chocolate, ice cream, candy, desserts, red meat, coffee, soft drinks, and fast food. Upon thinking about each of these things and considering the cost of fasting from them, I realized that I could somewhat easily do each of them—except for coffee—and that’s only because I didn’t want to have a caffeine headache on top of the headache that I’d likely grow while leading my students in instrument playing each day this week . I did, however, decide that I would fast from going out for coffee…unless given the opportunity to work on week three’s isolation fast by hanging out with a friend.

“So what should I fast?” I pondered. And then it hit me: the grocery store.

Food Lion. IGA. CVS (that I sometimes treat as a grocery store).

Not going to the grocery store is going to be a bigger challenge and sacrifice for me than not eating or drinking any particular food or drink.

I love going to the grocery store.

I love shopping for deals. I love buying things for school. I love buying things for other people. All at the grocery store. In fact, I went to the grocery store over 20 times in September and bought everything from crayons to citronella candles to coffee—lots and lots of coffee for the coffee club at school.

I’ve found that IGA has a discount dairy counter that’s regularly updated with items that need to be sold quickly. I like to stop by and see what’s there.

I’ve found that Food Lion has a discount corner that’s stocked with very random things. I like to stop by and see what’s there, too.

Plus I just like to walk up and down the aisles and look at things. If I find a super good deal, then I purchase it. Sometimes I go into the grocery store just to kill time and end up leaving with an armful of stuff. Last week, while waiting for my Chinese food to cook, I called Barb and said, “Hey B. This is Deanna the Food Lion shopper…” and then proceeded to as her advice about purchasing some supplies for her classroom.

I really like the grocery store.

And it’s not lost on me that going to the grocery store is a luxury.

And so…this week I fast the grocery store. And it’s already been a challenge.

Tonight, when I went to get supper for my mom and myself, I ended up right beside Food Lion (see picture that I took from my car window). As stupid as this sounds, it physically hurt to know that I couldn’t go in. The same thing happened as I drove by the reduced price dairy counter at the IGA. You see. Tomorrow is Terrific Treat Tuesday at school and I really wanted to check on the Starbucks Iced Coffee and cookie dough. But alas…I made myself keep driving. And I prayed.

I’ll be praying a lot this week…which, after all, is the point—to structure my days around prayer and to pray this day for daily bread.

Contrary To Popular Belief, Silence Is Not The Enemy

I’m beginning this note in between music lessons with my niece and nephew. We’ve been having weekly lessons for the past few months, and while I’m not 100% sure how much I’ve taught them, I am sure that we’ve enjoyed our time together. Sometimes we play piano, sometimes we play music games on the computer, sometimes we do movement activities, sometimes we listen to instrumental music with the help of Fantasia or a video version of Peter and the Wolf. I’ve been working with them for the past few months…

(Insert writing silence for a pre-K piano version of “Merrily We Roll Along.”)

…and I’ve been reminded of a very important lesson in life: Music is the organized combination of both sound and silence.

Did you catch that?

Music is not music without silence.

When I was teaching school, I realized something: when students get in trouble at school, one of their worst possible punishments is silence. Silent lunch. Silent carpool. Silent free time. Silent anything. In school, more often than not, silence is equivalent to punishment.

Yet.

Music is not music without silence.

There is a time for everything under the sun. Ecclesiastes 3 may not say that there is a time for noise and a time for silence, but there is. Silence is under the sun.

Yet.

We seem to do everything we can to avoid silence these days…especially if we grow up learning that silence is a punishment.

Try singing without stopping to take a breath. Trying playing an instrument without doing the same. Even playing the piano, there must be moments of silence—of rest—lest fingers get tied up and pitches become blurred.

Music is not music without silence.

In fact, music without silence is only noise.

And so it is with life.

The next time you’re driving to work alone, don’t turn on your music, book, podcasts, or talk radio. Drive in the relative silence of your car and truly pay attention to the world surrounding you.

The next time you have a moment between classes at school or meetings at work, don’t fill the moment with chatter and activity. Sit in the silence of your classroom or office. Breathe deeply. Feel the oxygen filling your lungs. You are alive. It’s really quite amazing.

And the next time there is a moment of silence in church, don’t freak out. Whether it’s planned or accidental, silence is okay. No. Silence is more than okay. Silence is good. Silence is crucial to being healthy and hearing God’s voice. Actually, I challenge you to plan a time to visit your church sanctuary alone. You will be amazed at how holy silence will surround you if you let it.

Silence is not the enemy. In fact, silence is our friend.

(Selah)

There Is Beauty Yet To Come

Six years ago, when the world turned yellow, I wrote a song.

A few weeks before, I had gone to counseling for the first time. I was finding a new vocabulary. I was finding a new sense of self.

After walking to the mailbox and back and clearing footprints in the yellow sand, I sat down at the piano and began to play.

The song that emerged was a prophetic declaration of who I am and who I want to be.

I thought of this song today as I exited white halls and emerged into a yellow world.

I thought of how I’d been living into its words ever since they sprang from my heart and how I will continue living into them in the years to come.

I thought of how I’d been finding my voice, my colors, my identity.

And I thought of how beautiful it is to know that we are created in the image of God, loved because of who we are now and who we are becoming rather than because of anything we have done or ever will do.

Friends, we are becoming whole, one day, one moment, at a time.

Hold to that truth today.

Let the yellow world remind you.

There is beauty yet to come.

Amen and Amen.

---------

Whole

A cloud of yellow comes and settles on my soul
Replacing sheets of white—cold
Nature has been waiting for this yellow on my soul
Agonizing in the pains of death

Tender, warm, new buds they bloom and yellow floods my soul
Bitter, stale the old passes away
My throat is scratchy from the yellow on my soul
My words are hoarse from the dark night

But listen now: this is my voice
It’s bursting into life
Singing with the colors of our God…

Three short months extended into countless draining years
Deceiving lies leading astray
Destructive screaming from this world created chaos here
Whispers of the truth could not be heard

But listen now: this is my voice
This is who I am
Created in the image of our God
Loved not for the things I do
But loved for who I am
And who I am learning to be

I’m not perfect—I will fail
But I believe in God’s grace
I am gifted and unique
I am worthy of God’s grace
I’m authentic—I’m okay
And I stand upon God’s grace
I’m on a journey—not alone
I’m a member of God’s grace

So listen now: this is my voice
This is who I am
Created in the image of our God
Loved not for the things I do
But loved for who I am
And who I am learning to be

Yes, listen now: this is my voice
It’s bursting into life
Singing with the colors of our God…

A cloud of yellow comes and settles on my soul
Replacing broken sheets—whole…

Opposites Attract

On Monday, since my car battery died, I drove my aunt's car to the dentist. [I wrote more about my Monday in Monday’s Note.] As such, I didn't have my normal CD's or books to listen to so I turned on the Christian radio station. A woman was talking when the station came on but instead of turning it to find music I decided to listen. I was intrigued by what she was saying and wanted to hear more. I can't remember the woman's name, but I know she's an author and speaker who does work with Focus on the Family.

Monday’s speaker was talking about how she overcame severe panic attacks. The things she said were very much like what Jenny, my former counselor, would have said to me, so I absorbed them like a sponge. Here are the notes that I jotted down:

■Complaining, whining, and exaggerating are three ways to hold on to anger and to remain self-absorbed.
■We must not rescue people before they take steps to rescue themselves.
■Bad thoughts? Refuse them and replace them and repeat again and again.
■Read. Continue to grow. If your heart isn't teachable then you will stay stuck.
■We must learn to place a boundary on our emotions, a boundary on our words, and to reduce our word count (spoken and written).

I suppose that the concepts about which she spoke weren’t concepts that I hadn’t heard or thought about before, but the wording of her talk—especially her last point—struck me as profound. I didn’t realize that it had been happening, and I certainly didn’t have words such as “a boundary on our emotions and words” and “reduce our word count” to name it, but I realize now this is one of the biggest lessons I’ve learned in the past couple of years—that and the true importance of being present in and seeing life—in all of its joy and possibilities—in the moment.

You’ve probably heard the phrase “opposites attract.” While spending time with our opposites is often challenging because of the fundamental differences in seeing, feeling, and experiencing life, I think that spending time with those different than us is crucial to being well-rounded person. It’s as if opposites pull toward one another to complement the deficits in each persons’ life.

When I am my ridiculous self, my opposites listen and respond in very calm, non-emotional ways. Their responses teach me that sometimes speaking and being heard really is all that matters—that words of wisdom, encouragement, and advice don’t always have to come, even though they are needed sometimes. My opposites also teach me that I don’t have to share everything that’s on my mind because sometimes it’s really not that important—and I don’t say that in a self-deprecating way as in I’m not important but in a way of simple reality as in some things don’t have to be shared—especially not immediately—especially if I’m working out of hurt and frustration. Through my opposites, I learn to place boundaries on my emotions and words…and this learning, to me, is invaluable—just as the speaker said on Monday, the speaker herself an opposite to me.

What have you learned from persons very different than you? What do you see as the value of surrounding yourself with diversity? It’s easy to stick to that which we know, but we’d be missing a whole lot of life if we did.

Only Lonely Understands

I found some old CDs at home in NC this weekend. As I drove back to SC last night, I listened to three of the CDs, singing along and feeling grateful for the music that was keeping me company. Toward the end of the trip, a song came on that I wasn’t expecting and the next thing I knew, I was crying. The song that played was “Tonight” by Sara Evans and the tears that flowed were from deep inside me...

I’m not exactly sure what hit me so hard when the song began. Maybe it’s my being a sucker for songs with a prominent piano part and it includes a strong emphasis on the keys...or maybe it’s the fact that the chorus says, “I don’t want to go home tonight,” and I was feeling sad about having to drive away from my family and friends again (although I realize that that’s totally not what that line is about in the song)...or maybe it’s the loneliness that I could hear throughout the storyline of the song and my self-proclaimed spiritual gift of crying for others who cannot cry. Whatever it was, it smacked me in my gut and left me crying an ugly, gasping cry for at least twenty minutes after I got back.

Despite fast-paced technology and social networking/media that keeps us instantly connected, we live in what I believe to be a lonely world. My dad recently told me that some of his most lonely moments occur when he is surrounded by people. I understand. It’s very possible to feel lonely when surrounded by people...especially when loneliness extends beyond passing feeling into permanent state of being.

I think that Sara Evans describes that permanent state of loneliness so well when she sings, “There's just some things only lonely understands.” [She also uses incorrect grammar, but I can forgive that here because of the profundity of the statement.] She also sings:

“I might be just a sinner
Who wants to be a saint
One justifies the reason
Oh, one understands the pain
And I don't know what's wrong baby
And I sure don't know what's right
But I don't want to go home tonight.”

Living in a permanent state of lonely leads one to do a lot of unhealthy things, and when unhealthy actions result in sinful actions—actions that hurt others and go against God’s design of love—the permanent state of lonely justifies the action out of a need to feel wanted, needed, and good enough—or maybe just to feel anything at all. The permanent state of lonely, I believe, stems from a hole in the core principle that we are loved—that we are authentically created beings with worth, value, and potential, and that despite what this world says, we are good enough—imperfect, different, and unique we may be. The permanent state of lonely, I believe, leads to isolation and secrecy that lead to more isolation and secrecy until we feel as if we are completely alone in our thoughts and often our shame—regardless of how many people truly love us.

I know what it is to live in the permanent state of loneliness while surrounded by love, but I also know what it is to have permanent made temporary through the transformational process of time, hard work, confession, acceptance, and grace.

So for everyone who has felt the “silent desperation” of loneliness, I must have hurt for you last night. I must have remembered that place and hurt for you—hurt for you and for those affected by and hurt by you—because we really are all connected. And while I was sad to drive away from my family and friends, and while I recognized the feeling of loneliness stirring inside me, I knew that I was not truly lonely in life anymore. I don't have that silent desperation. And I'm so thankful. And I’m so hopeful for everyone living in a permanent state of desperation—hopeful that it will be made temporary, that it will pass, and that each of us will daily realize that we are loved with a love so much richer and deeper and steady than anything we can comprehend.

----------

When You Can’t Escape
(from the lonely years)

Descending out of nowhere,
Exploding like a bomb,
Pressure securely locking windows and doors
Rendering daylight worthless.
Exaggerated lies become truth,
Stealing life from the breathing,
Smothering breath from the trying.
Intense heat scorches hints of soothing balm
Opening wounds that dangle between
Numbness and pain.
Heaven cries.
I love you falls on deaf ears.
Tomorrows linger.
Sleep cannot come soon enough.
Hearts shatter from calloused hands
Operating on figments of imagination.
Merciful Lord! Please break the fall.
Eternal God! Please hold me now.

From Hyper-Functioning to Compassion

Over the weekend, I had the opportunity to teach college students about compassion. Five years in the making, what I shared in two one hour break-out sessions was information that has literally changed my life.

One of the key teachings and practices that have changed my life over the past few years is the teaching of self compassion. Self-compassion is extending compassion to one’s self in instances of perceived inadequacy, failure, or general suffering. There are three basic components to self-compassion: self-kindness, common humanity, and mindfulness:

Self-kindness: Being warm towards oneself when encountering pain and personal shortcomings rather than ignoring them or hurting oneself with self-criticism.

Common humanity: Recognizing that suffering and personal failure is part of the shared human experience. In short, you are not the only person who has ever felt what you are feeling. You are not alone.

Mindfulness: Taking a balanced approach to one's negative emotions so that feelings are neither suppressed nor exaggerated. Negative thoughts and emotions are observed with openness so that they are held in mindful awareness. Mindfulness is a non-judgmental, receptive mind state in which individuals observe their thoughts and feelings as they are, without trying to suppress or deny them. Conversely, mindfulness requires that one not be over-identified with mental or emotional phenomena, so that one suffers aversive reactions. This latter type of response involves narrowly focusing and ruminating on one's negative emotions.

Practicing self-compassion is a daily practice in my life, but it’s a practice that I know is part of an ever-deepening relationship with God and has allowed me to make great strides toward having a healthy view of and love for myself as one of God’s beloved creations. The following reflection more adequately speaks of this practice’s impact on my life and ministry:

The struggle to love myself as one of God’s beloved children has been life-long, and it has been hard. My natural inability to be patient with and have compassion for myself has caused me to question both God’s and humanity’s ability to and reason for loving me and it has profoundly affected my work and ministry—often causing me to work and act not out of a sense of call but out of a sense of the need to be wanted or needed. Yet, my inability to love myself, I believe, has given me a direct point of understanding between so much of humanity. I dare say that many people struggle to love and have compassion for themselves. Like me, they may not realize the struggle for what it is because it may lurk in the shadows of hyper-functioning. But I believe it’s there in the eyes of so many people—people who are running from themselves for whatever reason—for fear of rejection, hatred of sexuality, pain of abuse, grief of loss, heartache of confession, guilt of mistakes, yearning of acceptance, for uncertainty of call.

Somehow, in the midst of my darkest period of loathing myself, I developed a theology that believes that God created each one of us wonderfully and uniquely—that before we were born, God whispered into our ears who we were supposed to be and that it is our quest to live into that design while we are on this earth. I believe that the world (including parents, friends, schools, partners, and the church) tries to make us into its image—however lovely that image might be—but that our challenge is to live into the fullness of who God alone created us to be—just as Christ alone lived into the fullness of his being.

As a result of my journey, my deepest desire in life is to support people on their journeys by helping them discover who they are and encouraging them to live into their gifts and passions. Just as my counselor once created a safe place for me to be fully myself, I want to create a safe place for others to be fully themselves. I want to be a healthy presence at all times, in joy and in hardship, but especially when someone stops running from herself and/or God. In those moments, I want to show the love and grace and compassion that I know are life-transforming. I want to hold a light in darkness, yet when light is too bright and my companion is unable to embrace its presence, I want to wait patiently until she can allow it to illuminate her life. I know that I cannot magically save someone who is hurting. But I can be a child of grace, and I can only love other people until, and regardless of if ever, they learn to have Compassion for themselves.

What is one of the most profound and life-changing teachings and practices of your faith? What are some ways you experience self-compassion? And what is your deepest desire in this life?

Deanna Plant and Spirit Waterer Asks For Help

Today I became the official plant waterer of the office. Despite my historically non-green thumb, I’m excited about this new responsibility and the learning possibilities it holds. For instance, did you know that ever so often, you should remove your lucky bamboo plant from its pot, straighten out the roots, wash them, and give them a root cut (just like you would give yourself a haircut)? And did you know that you must do this lest the lucky bamboo roots strangle one another and kill each other off, causing the lucky bamboo plant to yellow and die? I learned this fascinating fact at the doctor’s office yesterday. I had to get some of my meds adjusted. In essence, I had to have my roots pruned so that my fears, worries, and anxieties would stop trying to strangle out my thoughts and emotions and kill my spirit…

As Office Plant Waterer, I will have to be diligent to tend to the livelihood of our office plants. I will need to schedule times for feeding, watering, pruning, and replanting when plants become too large for their pots.

As Deanna Spirit Waterer, I need to be diligent to tend to the livelihood of self. I need to schedule times for feeding, watering, thinking, reading, writing, counseling, music-making, forgiving, letting go, adjusting, moving, and changing when life becomes too uncomfortable where it is…

While my thumb has been non-green in the past, I’m afraid that my whole being has been less green in taking care of my whole self. Five years ago this month, after a lifetime of unintentionally neglecting my spirit, I reached rock bottom and was forced to make a decision: ask for help or slowly suffocate. I chose help.

The decision to ask for help was surprisingly more difficult than it seems it would have been. I didn’t want to appear weak. I didn’t want the truth of non-perfection to be so obvious. I didn’t want the attention of not being okay. For, though my spirit was wasting away, my appearance didn’t show outward signs of danger like the green leaves turned brown on our plants.

Asking for help is not easy. It confirms human limitation, inability, ignorance, and/or brokenness and indicates that we are not as strong as we think we are. Yet I now believe that asking for help is the single most courageous thing that any person can do. It humbles us. It puts us on an equal playing field with those around us. It reminds us that we are but one piece of the world’s puzzle. And it allows us the opportunity not to give but to receive—and for some of us this reminder of balance is crucial.

Yesterday, I learned about lucky bamboo because Tuesday I asked for help again. Just as it was five years ago, asking for help was hard. I cried brave tears of embarrassment, stupidity, shame, and relief as I finally spoke of the anxiety that had been holding me hostage for too long. But soon, Deanna Plant and Spirit Waterer will put my lucky bamboo knowledge into practice with a calmness of spirit that has eluded me as of late. My lucky bamboo will then say thanks and encourage me to ask someone with excellent plant knowledge to coach me with the other plants. For, while failure is one of my biggest fears, the biggest failure of my life would be never asking for help. And, well, I do not want to fail. The plants need me. And my Spirit needs me too.

Dear Self

As part of a training that I attended yesterday and today, I was asked to think back to the years of my early adolescence. I was asked to think about how I looked, dressed, felt, and acted, and what events stood out to me from those years. After a few minutes of letting those memories flood my mind, I was asked to write a letter to my adolescent self, knowing what I know now.

While the women around me feverishly began to write, I sat and stared at my blank sheet of paper. I had no idea what I wanted to write to my adolescent self because I knew that what I know now would have never registered with who I was then. I knew that had my adolescent self made any other life choices than the ones I made, then I would not be who I am today. Sure, I may have been healthier sooner, but I would not have the understanding, depth, compassion, and grace that I do now. And so I sat. And I stared…

In order to finally write something, I had to step outside of myself and imagine myself writing to all adolescents. I had to imagine my adolescent self not as the Deanna that I both love and hate but as the Deanna that is connected to all of humanity. And here is what I finally wrote:

Dear Me,

You don’t have to try so hard to be loved. You don’t have to be perfect. You are okay just as you are.

I love you. And I believe in you.

I love and believe in who you are now and I love and believe in who you are becoming.

You are going to be okay. And you are not alone.

Love,
Me


What about you, dear reader? What did your early adolescence look like? And what would you tell your adolescent self now?

Whole (Colors Of Our God)

On Wednesday night, March 28, 2007, I walked down the driveway to get the mail. As I walked, my feet drug the ground and left a path in the pollen behind me. When I got back to the house, I sat down at the piano and started playing. One hour later, a song had emerged.

Just three weeks prior to that night, I had started counseling. I had begun to rewrite my script and to view myself with different eyes. I wrote this on March 9, 2007:

(struggling through tears) I am an authentic being…and a whole self. And I have to recognize what I’m feeling and how things affect me…and when I’m hurt and when I’m angry…and not always just try to feel for other people and try to make them better…

Anger tends to be a mask for something deeper. Umm…it’s an indication that you’re feeling something but there’s usually something beyond that—umm…rejection, misunderstanding, something deeper so…be able to think through the anger and understand what I’m feeling. I mostly feel rejected and used and…like I don’t matter.

There’s a difference between throwing out a lifeline and jumping in and drowning with a person. Usually, you always throw in the…the line first, umm…try to pull somebody out and keep your own identity before you actually jump in with the person and kind of become as one with them. It’s the same thing with a pit—when you jump into a pit with a person and identify with them then you lose yourself and it’s harder for you to be able to get yourself out of the pit. And I tend to…jump in with people and become that person and identify with the person…rather than throwing in a lifeline.

Jesus was pretty good at taking care of himself. He went off by himself and surrounded himself with friends and laughed and ate and drank and…took care of himself so that he could be the best for everybody else.

Taking care of other people is second nature to me. I probably learned it a really long time ago—just to always take care of the other person rather than thinking about what I’m feeling.

Maybe part of the reason that I get wrapped up in other people’s lives—and try to influence or control what they do…is because I feel like they’re worth it while I feel like I’m not. Maybe I identify with other people…because…I feel like there’s an emptiness inside of me…that says that I’m not worth working on—that I’m not worth taking care of ultimately—that I should take care of other people because they have more to give and more to offer than I do.
Now read the words to the song that emerged that Wednesday night. I was far from believing these words when I wrote them…yet they were my declaration of becoming…whole.

Whole

A cloud of yellow comes and settles on my soul
Replacing sheets of white—cold
Nature has been waiting for this yellow on my soul
Agonizing in the pains of death

Tender, warm, new buds they bloom and yellow floods my soul
Bitter, stale the old passes away
My throat is scratchy from the yellow on my soul
My words are hoarse from the dark night

But listen now: this is my voice
It’s bursting into life
Singing with the colors of our God…

Three short months extended into countless draining years
Deceiving lies leading astray
Destructive screaming from this world created chaos here
Whispers of the truth could not be heard

But listen now: this is my voice
This is who I am
Created in the image of our God
Loved not for the things I do
But loved for who I am
And who I am learning to be

I’m not perfect—I will fail
But I believe in God’s grace
I am gifted and unique
I am worthy of God’s grace
I’m authentic—I’m okay
And I stand upon God’s grace
I’m on a journey—not alone
I’m a member of God’s grace

So listen now: this is my voice
This is who I am
Created in the image of our God
Loved not for the things I do
But loved for who I am
And who I am learning to be

Yes, listen now: this is my voice
It’s bursting into life
Singing with the colors of our God…

A cloud of yellow comes and settles on my soul
Replacing broken sheets—whole…
God...Thank you for transformation. And thank you for making brokenness whole.