It took me most of the trip to get used to the time difference. With the exception of the two days that we were in St. Petersburg, we were six hours ahead of home; in St. Petersburg, we were seven. When I was getting up, everyone here was either in bed or getting ready for bed. When I was going to bed, everyone here was preparing for supper or enjoying a late afternoon storm. When I was touring the world, everyone here was exploring dream land or beginning to explore what the workforce would present him/her with for the day.
I suppose it’s no wonder, then, that I had a fully functioning conversation with one of my friends on July 20th at 3:00 in the morning.
I’m not exactly sure what caused me to wake up at 3am—I suppose it was the sound of the text coming through—but I had indeed been asleep but was at that moment awake, my body clock sensing 9pm. I will admit: sometimes a text will awaken me and I will do my best to carry on a text conversation, but it will come out completely incoherent because, well, I’m asleep. For instance, I fell asleep yesterday afternoon and awoke when I heard a ding accompanied with this question: “How was your TOY interview? How do you feel?” I responded: “I don’t know that I’ll win becussd of my luck is school Invigorating but I was myself and the osslicsyiom too. J fix my best.”
So there I was, lying in my bed en route to Russia, fully awake but not in the mental space to have been premeditating thought, having the following conversation as a continuation of a previous talk about her going to graduate school:
Friend: I’m considering an online program so I can do it in my home and not in an intimidating classroom.
Me: I’ve been secretly thinking about going back…I’ve not talked about it at all.
Friend: For what?
Me: School administration.
Friend: I thought so. You’re terrific at public speaking. You could totally lead faculty meetings.
Me: Well thank you.
*We then wandered off topic for about ten minutes, but I was feverishly counting syllables and write the following haikus*
Crazy idea
In the middle of the night
Falling into place
It’s making sense now
The diverse path I have trod
A call coming clear
Racing heart running fast
To the edge of excitement
It is time to leap
A profound moment
Or is this a vivid dream
Only time will tell
Everything that’s me
Has been leading to this time
I think I’m ready
Keeping the haikus to myself, I came back around to the conversation by saying this: I will be contacting Campbell when I get home. It’s probably too late to start in the Fall. But I think I am heading back to school, friend. It’s as if some pieces of my life just shifted into place. At 3am. Thank you.
Then my friend inserted clapping hands and the emoji for a-okay, and I fell asleep.
I didn’t mention this experience until a week after returning from my trip (which was over two weeks after the above conversation occurred). Unlike the text that I found on my phone yesterday when I woke up from my nap, I remembered the conversation vividly—yet my conscious self filled my subconscious self with all kinds of doubts to refute the certainty of that night. I secretly researched the program and contacted Campbell and found out what I needed to do to enroll in classes. I talked myself out of it. I talked myself back into it. I felt good about the things I might learn in class; I really do like administrative things. I felt really weird to think about having the title principal attached to my name; it still feels weird and I’m not even sure it’s what will happen. I imagined myself failing. I imagined myself succeeding. But what I couldn’t imagine was going through this semester without being in class one night per week—which is somewhat insane considering that a lot of things are going to be very different and unknown at both school and church with changes in staff and personnel.
My acceptance letter into the School of Education at Campbell University was mailed today. As soon as I settle upon a class, I will be enrolled in the Master of School Administration program. My top spiritual gift is administration. I guess it’s time to do something with that little known fact that made its voice clear at 3am in the middle of the Baltic Sea, on a vacation that truly changed my life.
Thursday, August 18, 2016
Monday, August 15, 2016
Icelandic Haikus
***I wrote a lot of haikus while on my Scandinavian Adventure. I seem currently to be treading in the middle of haiku sea. Sometimes I was inspired by what I saw, sometimes by something someone said, sometimes something that happened, sometimes because my mind is just always turning. The following haikus are from Iceland.***
7.14.16—En route to Iceland
Tiny little dot
Moving fast across the sea
Adventure begins
7.15.16—Iceland Day One (Thingvellir National Park, The Geysirs, Gullfoss Waterfall)
This raging water
May be the most beautiful
I have ever seen
Rich diversity
I am beyond overwhelmed
And simply amazed
Volcano erupt
Mold and decorate the land
Green moss, brown boulders
Little grazing sheep
Roam where you may, all over
Just come when I call
Don’t punish the slaves
Swedish law arrests the “Johns”
We should do the same
We need the church. It’s
Not community, rites. It’s
The Body of Christ.
7.16.16—Iceland Day Two (Reykjavik City Tour, Hallgrims Church, The Blue Lagoon)
I know one language
Right now I feel ignorant
Dumb American
It’s a big small world
People everywhere the same
Yet very diff’rent
Middle of nowhere
Floating salty blue lagoon
Happy accident
Very thorough guide
Thank you for information
Communication’s key
Put me on a bus
If I ever need to rest
Natural sleep aid
Words are our weapons
Our people don’t carry guns
These are our heroes
Modesty? No need.
We are all women here. Still,
Where is my towel?
I was fast asleep
I did not mean to hit you
Forgive me, oh please?
Time to go to bed
Morning will come in three hours
It’s quite light outside
(So what)
For the large organ
For the large bells and steeple
For lines of tourists
(No wonder)
Jesus turned tables
People think the church is dead
Few attempt to come
(Church is)
Alive in people
Thriving when God’s Spirit moves
More than large buildings
7.14.16—En route to Iceland
Tiny little dot
Moving fast across the sea
Adventure begins
7.15.16—Iceland Day One (Thingvellir National Park, The Geysirs, Gullfoss Waterfall)
This raging water
May be the most beautiful
I have ever seen
Rich diversity
I am beyond overwhelmed
And simply amazed
Volcano erupt
Mold and decorate the land
Green moss, brown boulders
Little grazing sheep
Roam where you may, all over
Just come when I call
Don’t punish the slaves
Swedish law arrests the “Johns”
We should do the same
We need the church. It’s
Not community, rites. It’s
The Body of Christ.
7.16.16—Iceland Day Two (Reykjavik City Tour, Hallgrims Church, The Blue Lagoon)
I know one language
Right now I feel ignorant
Dumb American
It’s a big small world
People everywhere the same
Yet very diff’rent
Middle of nowhere
Floating salty blue lagoon
Happy accident
Very thorough guide
Thank you for information
Communication’s key
Put me on a bus
If I ever need to rest
Natural sleep aid
Words are our weapons
Our people don’t carry guns
These are our heroes
Modesty? No need.
We are all women here. Still,
Where is my towel?
I was fast asleep
I did not mean to hit you
Forgive me, oh please?
Time to go to bed
Morning will come in three hours
It’s quite light outside
(So what)
For the large organ
For the large bells and steeple
For lines of tourists
(No wonder)
Jesus turned tables
People think the church is dead
Few attempt to come
(Church is)
Alive in people
Thriving when God’s Spirit moves
More than large buildings
Poetic Thoughts from Sweden, Finland, and Russia
***You never know what will inspire a haiku (or some other type of short poem). A beautiful landscape. Sunset. Building. A rude person. A rich person. A beautiful person. An unreadable sign and language. Inspiration is all around us. Just look for people counting syllables on their fingers. They are probably using following inspiration onto the haiku sea.***
7.17.16—From Iceland to Sweden
No need to jump line
Didn’t learn in primary
Skipping is not nice
We are so wasteful
Consuming, devouring. More.
It is sickening
This is new to me
I have no traveled the world
This really is privilege
Don’t take for granted
Movie in my hand
Move on my screen
I think I will go to sleep
Underground exits
Not just in video games
Curves and lights exist
7.18.16—Stockholm, Sweden, and the Boat
Diverse people. Real.
Diff’rent lives, different views.
One voice. One God. Strength.
In darkness.
You are there, God.
In brilliant color.
You are beautiful, God.
Let me blow you a kiss.
7.19.16—Helsinki and Porvoo, Finland, and the Boat
History is important
Not everything new is good
Be careful moving forward
Underneath riches
Everything is not okay
You are human too
Stripped naked. Stripped bare.
No honors. No awards. No
Make-up, titles, labels. No
Pretense. Just human.
Late, brilliant color
Magnificent, deep, beauty
Baltic Sea nights
Do not try so hard
Who are you when you are “off”
Do you even know?
Out on these blue seas
I hope you find yourself here
Peace is yours to take
7.20.16—St. Petersburg, Russia
Wide open spaces
Room to grow happiness
The landscape looks sad
Is this how you feel?
Seeing but not seeing words.
I will help you read.
7.17.16—From Iceland to Sweden
No need to jump line
Didn’t learn in primary
Skipping is not nice
We are so wasteful
Consuming, devouring. More.
It is sickening
This is new to me
I have no traveled the world
This really is privilege
Don’t take for granted
Movie in my hand
Move on my screen
I think I will go to sleep
Underground exits
Not just in video games
Curves and lights exist
7.18.16—Stockholm, Sweden, and the Boat
Diverse people. Real.
Diff’rent lives, different views.
One voice. One God. Strength.
In darkness.
You are there, God.
In brilliant color.
You are beautiful, God.
Let me blow you a kiss.
7.19.16—Helsinki and Porvoo, Finland, and the Boat
History is important
Not everything new is good
Be careful moving forward
Underneath riches
Everything is not okay
You are human too
Stripped naked. Stripped bare.
No honors. No awards. No
Make-up, titles, labels. No
Pretense. Just human.
Late, brilliant color
Magnificent, deep, beauty
Baltic Sea nights
Do not try so hard
Who are you when you are “off”
Do you even know?
Out on these blue seas
I hope you find yourself here
Peace is yours to take
7.20.16—St. Petersburg, Russia
Wide open spaces
Room to grow happiness
The landscape looks sad
Is this how you feel?
Seeing but not seeing words.
I will help you read.
Monday, August 8, 2016
One Orange Croc in Front of the Other
When I was in Jacksonville in June for Operation Surprise G-mama, my aunt June Gail (now otherwise known as the Fred who took me to Europe in July) took me to buy new shoes. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have concerned myself with buying new shoes. I have a lot of shoes in my closet and most of them are in decent shape. But on this day, I actually did need new shoes: I needed a new pair of waterproof shoes because I had worn out every other pair that I had. My pink Keens have a noticeably broken side, my brown Crocs with the cute Jibbetz have no traction, my orange and yellow Croc flip flops have no traction, and my waterproof Birkenstocks are no longer wearable because the glue holding the shoe together has come lose. So, alas, I really did need a new pair of waterproof shoes.
The store that we went to didn’t have the shoes that JG took me specifically to buy and it didn’t have a pair of Keens like the pink ones that I have worn to the point of fashionable death, but it did have Crocs. So I bought a pair of orange Crocs, and I have since worn those Crocs to Europe and back.
As I write this note today, I am looking at the Atlantic Ocean from the East Coast of America. I am with a group of kids and adults from a church that I’ve been working with for one week every summer for the past decade. For nine years, we met at a lovely retreat center in the mountains of North Carolina, yet this year we have come together at the coast. This week always serves as a marker for me—a definite point of keeping time—a clear unit of tracing where life has taken me in the year since the group and I last met.
To say that a lot has happened since last year’s camp is an understatement. I completed another year of school, taught the best of my life, was named Teacher of the Year, but then had to say goodbye to most of my friends as they packed up their rooms at JES and went somewhere else. I learned new and meaningful music with the choir and praise team, planned moving worship services, began dreaming for the future of Antioch, but then had to say goodbye to my pastor as he packed up his family to move back to Texas. I surprised my grandmother for her birthday, went to a beautiful lake in NC for family vacation, helped run another successful Nana camp, and then had the opportunity to travel across the Atlantic Ocean and see it from the other side.
For someone who loves words, the words are not coming to express everything that I am feeling today.
As I walked on the beach a bit earlier, looking for sea glass, I caught myself rehearsing what I should write today. I came up with a plethora of different beginnings —some poignant, some cute—and topics—the importance of community for shared memory, a story shared in worship last night—but I couldn’t land on one, definite thing. Then I looked at my feet—the same feet that had worn those orange Crocs that I could see shining ahead in the sand—and I heard a very clear voice say, “Stop trying to figure everything out, Deanna. Just be present right here, right now, in this moment, on the beach. Feel the sand on your feet. Listen to the waves crash. Hear the children’s laughter. Watch the selfless dedication of chaperones. Life is happening right here. Not just in the awe-inspiring memories of your summer or in the anxiety-inspiring thoughts of the new year. Your note will come. Sharing your stories will come. Future days will come. But right now, just be here with me.”
When I got my orange Crocs at the beginning of the summer, I had no idea where they would take me. I had a vague notion of what it would mean to travel the world and I knew the itineraries of family vacation, the Scandinavian Adventure, and this camp, but I had no idea that at the end of it all, the foundation of my world would have expanded and that my life would be changed in ways I cannot yet express. All I knew was that I needed new waterproof shoes.
Maybe all we need to know is how to put one foot in front of the other—barefoot, dry-shoed, or bright-orange-waterproof shoed—and stay present in the moment, trusting that God will guide us to the next moment, on this side of the Atlantic or beyond.
I am overwhelmed
With gratitude. My humble
Heart sings thanks and praise.
Amen.
The store that we went to didn’t have the shoes that JG took me specifically to buy and it didn’t have a pair of Keens like the pink ones that I have worn to the point of fashionable death, but it did have Crocs. So I bought a pair of orange Crocs, and I have since worn those Crocs to Europe and back.
As I write this note today, I am looking at the Atlantic Ocean from the East Coast of America. I am with a group of kids and adults from a church that I’ve been working with for one week every summer for the past decade. For nine years, we met at a lovely retreat center in the mountains of North Carolina, yet this year we have come together at the coast. This week always serves as a marker for me—a definite point of keeping time—a clear unit of tracing where life has taken me in the year since the group and I last met.
To say that a lot has happened since last year’s camp is an understatement. I completed another year of school, taught the best of my life, was named Teacher of the Year, but then had to say goodbye to most of my friends as they packed up their rooms at JES and went somewhere else. I learned new and meaningful music with the choir and praise team, planned moving worship services, began dreaming for the future of Antioch, but then had to say goodbye to my pastor as he packed up his family to move back to Texas. I surprised my grandmother for her birthday, went to a beautiful lake in NC for family vacation, helped run another successful Nana camp, and then had the opportunity to travel across the Atlantic Ocean and see it from the other side.
For someone who loves words, the words are not coming to express everything that I am feeling today.
As I walked on the beach a bit earlier, looking for sea glass, I caught myself rehearsing what I should write today. I came up with a plethora of different beginnings —some poignant, some cute—and topics—the importance of community for shared memory, a story shared in worship last night—but I couldn’t land on one, definite thing. Then I looked at my feet—the same feet that had worn those orange Crocs that I could see shining ahead in the sand—and I heard a very clear voice say, “Stop trying to figure everything out, Deanna. Just be present right here, right now, in this moment, on the beach. Feel the sand on your feet. Listen to the waves crash. Hear the children’s laughter. Watch the selfless dedication of chaperones. Life is happening right here. Not just in the awe-inspiring memories of your summer or in the anxiety-inspiring thoughts of the new year. Your note will come. Sharing your stories will come. Future days will come. But right now, just be here with me.”
When I got my orange Crocs at the beginning of the summer, I had no idea where they would take me. I had a vague notion of what it would mean to travel the world and I knew the itineraries of family vacation, the Scandinavian Adventure, and this camp, but I had no idea that at the end of it all, the foundation of my world would have expanded and that my life would be changed in ways I cannot yet express. All I knew was that I needed new waterproof shoes.
Maybe all we need to know is how to put one foot in front of the other—barefoot, dry-shoed, or bright-orange-waterproof shoed—and stay present in the moment, trusting that God will guide us to the next moment, on this side of the Atlantic or beyond.
I am overwhelmed
With gratitude. My humble
Heart sings thanks and praise.
Amen.
Monday, July 11, 2016
Stanley Sends Fred to Europe
Well, folks. A big decision was made today. After traveling with me around the States and to Jamaica and the Bahamas, Stanley has decided that he will not be traveling with me to Europe. He feels like he needs to stay home to oversee my parents as they oversee the workers who are building my dad a home office. This evening, as they overlooked the building site, Stanley and little brother Fred discussed the trip, and Stanley gave Fred the wings he needs to fly. That’s right, everyone: Fred is going to Europe.
Some of you may be thinking, “Dee, I didn’t even know you were going to Europe.” I know. It’s hard to believe. But I am going to Europe. I leave Wednesday. I am both excited and nervous. And I haven’t yet started to pack.
Two years ago, my aunt asked if I’d be willing to travel with her to the Scandinavian region of the world. Being the geographical dummy that I am, I didn’t know where Scandinavia was, but I happily agreed to being June Gail’s travel companion. Why not? Not many opportunities like this arise.
One year ago, my aunt asked if I’d be willing to leave a couple of days early to go to Iceland. Sure! Why not? Again, not many opportunities like this arise.
And what is this opportunity?
It’s a 15-day Viking Sea Cruise around the Baltic Sea with a three day prelude in Iceland.
My aunt, who has traveled around the world, has spent many hours studying the places that we will be going and talking with both her travel agent and representatives of Viking Cruise Lines. Together, we spent an entire Saturday planning our excursions, and we have a jam-packed itinerary. I am fully prepared to be exhausted upon my return—and maybe during the trip—but I’m also prepared to do everything I can to experience as much as I can. Because, well, not many opportunities like this arise.
I’m nervous about getting motion sick. I’m nervous about eating something that makes me sick on my stomach. Okay. I’m nervous about getting any kind of sick. I’m nervous about missing a flight or missing the boat. I’m nervous about losing important documents. I’m nervous about being so far away from friends and family. I’m concerned about the divisions in this country. But. I think I may be more excited to see more of the world.
And what of the world will I see? You might want to pull up a map for this :
Reykjavick, Iceland: Thingvellir National Park, Geysir Hot Springs and included lunch, Gullfoss Waterfall, Kerid Crater, Blue Lagoon
Stockholm, Sweden: Meet The Royal Swedish Opera, Stockholm City Tour
Helsinki, Finland: Tour of Helsinki, Porvoo and Haikko Manor
St. Petersburg, Russia: Catherine Palace and Gardens, Panoramic city tour, Church of our Savior on Spilled Blood, St. Petersburg Ballet, Hermitage Museum, Peterhof, Hydrofoil across Gulf of Finland
Tallin, Estonia: Old Town Tallin and Manor Houses
Gdansk, Poland: Gdansk City Tour
Berlin, Germany: Sachsenhausen and Berlin Tour
Copenhagen, Denmark: Copenhagan City Tour, Tivoli Gardens, Evening Jazz Cruise Through Copenhagen
Alborg, Denmark: Wild West Coast and Lighthouse Tour
Stavenger, Norway: Stavenger Walking Tour and Oil Museum
Flam, Norway: A Panoramic Half-Day Railway Trip and Flam and Osterbo Mountain Lodge Tour
Bergen, Norway: Fantoft Stave Church and Grieg's House and Recital
Mamers, United States: VBS 2016
The Viking Sea does include complimentary internet access, and I have upgraded my phone so that I can more easily keep in contact and post pictures of Stanley’s little brother, Fred. So…I will try to keep in touch, but…I’m going to try harder to be fully present on this trip.
Keep us in your thoughts and prayers. And believe me when I say that I know how extremely fortunate I am to have this opportunity and that I, personally, am praying that I will be able to use this trip to bless others. Somehow. In some way. Amen.
Some of you may be thinking, “Dee, I didn’t even know you were going to Europe.” I know. It’s hard to believe. But I am going to Europe. I leave Wednesday. I am both excited and nervous. And I haven’t yet started to pack.
Two years ago, my aunt asked if I’d be willing to travel with her to the Scandinavian region of the world. Being the geographical dummy that I am, I didn’t know where Scandinavia was, but I happily agreed to being June Gail’s travel companion. Why not? Not many opportunities like this arise.
One year ago, my aunt asked if I’d be willing to leave a couple of days early to go to Iceland. Sure! Why not? Again, not many opportunities like this arise.
And what is this opportunity?
It’s a 15-day Viking Sea Cruise around the Baltic Sea with a three day prelude in Iceland.
My aunt, who has traveled around the world, has spent many hours studying the places that we will be going and talking with both her travel agent and representatives of Viking Cruise Lines. Together, we spent an entire Saturday planning our excursions, and we have a jam-packed itinerary. I am fully prepared to be exhausted upon my return—and maybe during the trip—but I’m also prepared to do everything I can to experience as much as I can. Because, well, not many opportunities like this arise.
I’m nervous about getting motion sick. I’m nervous about eating something that makes me sick on my stomach. Okay. I’m nervous about getting any kind of sick. I’m nervous about missing a flight or missing the boat. I’m nervous about losing important documents. I’m nervous about being so far away from friends and family. I’m concerned about the divisions in this country. But. I think I may be more excited to see more of the world.
And what of the world will I see? You might want to pull up a map for this :
Reykjavick, Iceland: Thingvellir National Park, Geysir Hot Springs and included lunch, Gullfoss Waterfall, Kerid Crater, Blue Lagoon
Stockholm, Sweden: Meet The Royal Swedish Opera, Stockholm City Tour
Helsinki, Finland: Tour of Helsinki, Porvoo and Haikko Manor
St. Petersburg, Russia: Catherine Palace and Gardens, Panoramic city tour, Church of our Savior on Spilled Blood, St. Petersburg Ballet, Hermitage Museum, Peterhof, Hydrofoil across Gulf of Finland
Tallin, Estonia: Old Town Tallin and Manor Houses
Gdansk, Poland: Gdansk City Tour
Berlin, Germany: Sachsenhausen and Berlin Tour
Copenhagen, Denmark: Copenhagan City Tour, Tivoli Gardens, Evening Jazz Cruise Through Copenhagen
Alborg, Denmark: Wild West Coast and Lighthouse Tour
Stavenger, Norway: Stavenger Walking Tour and Oil Museum
Flam, Norway: A Panoramic Half-Day Railway Trip and Flam and Osterbo Mountain Lodge Tour
Bergen, Norway: Fantoft Stave Church and Grieg's House and Recital
Mamers, United States: VBS 2016
The Viking Sea does include complimentary internet access, and I have upgraded my phone so that I can more easily keep in contact and post pictures of Stanley’s little brother, Fred. So…I will try to keep in touch, but…I’m going to try harder to be fully present on this trip.
Keep us in your thoughts and prayers. And believe me when I say that I know how extremely fortunate I am to have this opportunity and that I, personally, am praying that I will be able to use this trip to bless others. Somehow. In some way. Amen.
Thursday, July 7, 2016
The Art That Surrounds Me
If you’ve never been to my house, then you’ve never 1) been barked at by Bullet [who is super cute but incredibly protective and therefore inhospitable], 2) heard my mom play her piano [which is an incredible experience], 3) had my dad share one of his breakfast table sermons [which are often profound], or 4) experienced an aesthetic overload when visiting my living quarters upstairs.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m intuitive, feeling, blue, or just plain sentimental, but I like to surround myself with visual reminders of the people I love, the things I’ve experienced, or the words and images that inspire me.
Earlier today, when mom and I saw a storefront building for sale, I joked that we should buy it so that I could live in the apartment upstairs and use the downstairs for my art gallery.
I have a lot of art.
As I write these words tonight, I’m sitting in the orange fish art room. I have a huge fish that Barb the Art Teacher painted me for being Teacher of the Year the first time around, a multi-textured fish that Jack the Nephew made for me in 7th grade art class and another little finger painted fish that Jack made when he was 4, a yard art piece that Holli Who Lived In Laos painted orange for me, four surrealist prints that various friends have given me, and quite a few other pieces as well. They probably aren’t worth much to anyone but me, but to me they are worth so very much.
Then there is my room. The art work on my walls is an eclectic mix that holds pieces from as far back as high school. Currently, I have the pieces in my room grouped by subject/artist. I have a section of paintings that my friend Karen painted for the women’s retreats we used to attend. I have a section of drawings by a local artist that I stumbled upon in Vass. I have a Jesus section—that includes Laughing Jesus and a modern interpretation of the poem Footprints. I have a Fabio Napoleoni wall. I have a cross wall. I have a miscellaneous wall. I even have a wall-border of paper plates that I colored in college.
I have words in my room, too.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will direct your paths. Proverbs 3:5-6 [Not only one of my favorite verses, but also cross stitched especially for me.]
Embrace yourself as you are. Celebrate yourself as you long to be.
It’s not about controlling. It’s about being present, being open, being aware—and allowing it to come.
The baby in the womb was the maker of the moon.
And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.
Just keep swimming.
There are others words. Poems that people have written and shared with me. Words that I hold close to my heart.
And there are pieces of pottery. Ornaments. A Scentsy warmer. Orange fish and other collectibles.
Every piece of art in my room has a story that has influenced my story, just like every piece of art in this room has a story as well. And every time I look at the pieces, those stories and the people who helped make the stories run through my head—and I find myself remembering and praying and feeling the full gamut of emotions that they bring. And I am grateful. I am so very grateful.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m intuitive, feeling, blue, or just plain sentimental, but I like to surround myself with visual reminders of the people I love, the things I’ve experienced, or the words and images that inspire me.
Earlier today, when mom and I saw a storefront building for sale, I joked that we should buy it so that I could live in the apartment upstairs and use the downstairs for my art gallery.
I have a lot of art.
As I write these words tonight, I’m sitting in the orange fish art room. I have a huge fish that Barb the Art Teacher painted me for being Teacher of the Year the first time around, a multi-textured fish that Jack the Nephew made for me in 7th grade art class and another little finger painted fish that Jack made when he was 4, a yard art piece that Holli Who Lived In Laos painted orange for me, four surrealist prints that various friends have given me, and quite a few other pieces as well. They probably aren’t worth much to anyone but me, but to me they are worth so very much.
Then there is my room. The art work on my walls is an eclectic mix that holds pieces from as far back as high school. Currently, I have the pieces in my room grouped by subject/artist. I have a section of paintings that my friend Karen painted for the women’s retreats we used to attend. I have a section of drawings by a local artist that I stumbled upon in Vass. I have a Jesus section—that includes Laughing Jesus and a modern interpretation of the poem Footprints. I have a Fabio Napoleoni wall. I have a cross wall. I have a miscellaneous wall. I even have a wall-border of paper plates that I colored in college.
I have words in my room, too.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will direct your paths. Proverbs 3:5-6 [Not only one of my favorite verses, but also cross stitched especially for me.]
Embrace yourself as you are. Celebrate yourself as you long to be.
It’s not about controlling. It’s about being present, being open, being aware—and allowing it to come.
The baby in the womb was the maker of the moon.
And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.
Just keep swimming.
There are others words. Poems that people have written and shared with me. Words that I hold close to my heart.
And there are pieces of pottery. Ornaments. A Scentsy warmer. Orange fish and other collectibles.
Every piece of art in my room has a story that has influenced my story, just like every piece of art in this room has a story as well. And every time I look at the pieces, those stories and the people who helped make the stories run through my head—and I find myself remembering and praying and feeling the full gamut of emotions that they bring. And I am grateful. I am so very grateful.
Monday, July 4, 2016
It Is For Freedom
I confess. It’s easier not to write. I got off schedule during the last week of school because after working on an end-of-year computer requirement that involved writing for at least 8 hours each day I was, quite frankly, tired of looking at the computer. In fact, if I remember correctly, when I got home that Thursday night, I was so tired of everything that I plopped onto the couch and didn’t move for over three hours. Then I went to Florida to surprise non-internet using G-mama, to kid-sit Griffin the Nephew and Amelia the Niece, and on family vacation where internet connection was hit or miss. I could have written each of those nights. It was possible. But, like I said, it’s easier not to write. It’s easier not to do things that take time, discipline, vulnerability, and sacrifice.
Honestly, I’ve given serious thought to discontinuing these Monday and Thursday posts. I started writing them six years ago as a means of letting people know that those of us in full-time vocational ministry were not super-humans but regular-humans that experience life just like everyone else, and while I ended my work in full-time vocational ministry 2012, I’ve kept writing. I’ve kept writing because I knew it was a discipline that was good—a simple spiritual discipline of sorts—not a spiritual discipline listed in Foster’s Celebration of Discipline—but a discipline nonetheless. Yet many times my non-super-human self finds itself wondering, “What’s the point of posting each week? I don’t have anything profound to say. I write about Bullet and my family and school most of the time. And when I do write something spiritually or emotionally significant, most people don’t read it, so why put the words out there? Why not just stop?”
Before Mister Pastor Patrick announced that he and his family were returning home to live in Texas, he had scheduled yesterday and next Sunday as vacation time and asked my dad to fill the pulpit on those two Sundays. So my dad spoke yesterday and preached about freedom—about a people’s challenge to use their freedom not to take care of themselves and build up their own riches but to honor God and take care of one another.
In setting up the sermon for the children, Rebecca the Children’s Minister asked the children to recite the last line of The Star Spangled Banner: “O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.” She told the kids that even though we are each free to do pretty much anything we want to do—as long as we don’t break the law—we, as Christ-followers, are challenged to do things that are good and right and of God—and those things often take bravery.
As I write tonight, fireworks are going off around me. Bullet is petrified but hundreds of thousands of people around the country are celebrating freedom. I am grateful. And I am challenged to uphold and share a message of freedom to the people of every tribe, nation, and tongue, for the freedom that dominates my heart and mind tonight is a freedom that transcends tribe, nation, and tongue.
You, my brothers and sisters, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh; rather, serve one another humbly in love. For the entire law is fulfilled in keeping this one command: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” If you bite and devour each other, watch out or you will be destroyed by each other…[And] the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Against such things there is no law. Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit (--excerpts from Galatians 5).
Freedom. Love. Patience. Self-control. Discipline. Bravery.
I could stop writing. It would be so easy to stop writing. Life would go on and the world would keep turning. Yet on this Independence Day as I recognize that I am fortunate to have the freedom to pretty much do as I please, I also recognize that freedom is not free and that it comes with a call to be greater than myself. It comes with a call to be brave and to live by the Spirit that once called and continues to call me to walk this journey of faith with those around me…together…sacrificially…with discipline…and Love.
Honestly, I’ve given serious thought to discontinuing these Monday and Thursday posts. I started writing them six years ago as a means of letting people know that those of us in full-time vocational ministry were not super-humans but regular-humans that experience life just like everyone else, and while I ended my work in full-time vocational ministry 2012, I’ve kept writing. I’ve kept writing because I knew it was a discipline that was good—a simple spiritual discipline of sorts—not a spiritual discipline listed in Foster’s Celebration of Discipline—but a discipline nonetheless. Yet many times my non-super-human self finds itself wondering, “What’s the point of posting each week? I don’t have anything profound to say. I write about Bullet and my family and school most of the time. And when I do write something spiritually or emotionally significant, most people don’t read it, so why put the words out there? Why not just stop?”
Before Mister Pastor Patrick announced that he and his family were returning home to live in Texas, he had scheduled yesterday and next Sunday as vacation time and asked my dad to fill the pulpit on those two Sundays. So my dad spoke yesterday and preached about freedom—about a people’s challenge to use their freedom not to take care of themselves and build up their own riches but to honor God and take care of one another.
In setting up the sermon for the children, Rebecca the Children’s Minister asked the children to recite the last line of The Star Spangled Banner: “O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.” She told the kids that even though we are each free to do pretty much anything we want to do—as long as we don’t break the law—we, as Christ-followers, are challenged to do things that are good and right and of God—and those things often take bravery.
As I write tonight, fireworks are going off around me. Bullet is petrified but hundreds of thousands of people around the country are celebrating freedom. I am grateful. And I am challenged to uphold and share a message of freedom to the people of every tribe, nation, and tongue, for the freedom that dominates my heart and mind tonight is a freedom that transcends tribe, nation, and tongue.
You, my brothers and sisters, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh; rather, serve one another humbly in love. For the entire law is fulfilled in keeping this one command: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” If you bite and devour each other, watch out or you will be destroyed by each other…[And] the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Against such things there is no law. Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit (--excerpts from Galatians 5).
Freedom. Love. Patience. Self-control. Discipline. Bravery.
I could stop writing. It would be so easy to stop writing. Life would go on and the world would keep turning. Yet on this Independence Day as I recognize that I am fortunate to have the freedom to pretty much do as I please, I also recognize that freedom is not free and that it comes with a call to be greater than myself. It comes with a call to be brave and to live by the Spirit that once called and continues to call me to walk this journey of faith with those around me…together…sacrificially…with discipline…and Love.
Monday, June 27, 2016
Haiku-ing Through Sadness
I had the privilege of kid-sitting Griffin the Nephew and Amelia the Niece on Thursday night. As part of our time together, we watched a couple of episodes of America’s Funniest Videos. We laughed super hard at the ones involving animals and babies, but we didn’t laugh so hard at the ones where people got hurt or where the camera person staged the whole scene. What we figured out was that the funniest moments tend to happen unplanned—like when Amelia told me that she would sleep in her parents’ king-size bed with me if I just had an off volume switch—or when she looked at a small group of fish and announced that they must be a home-school of fish—or like Sunday night when I was literally so sad that I could do nothing but lay in my bed, wrapped in my blanket, and…write…haiku. Yes. Haiku.
I struggle with goodbyes. Anyone who knows me knows this much. I’ve gotten better with goodbyes over the past few years. I’ve come to accept—more fully—that people come and go and that that is okay—even needed. Yet goodbyes are still hard—especially when they are said to a lot of people at once and/or to people I call friend and respect—and that has happened three times over the past three weeks.
On Sunday night, I told Mister Pastor Patrick and his beautiful wife Courtney goodbye. As part of their sending off, I worked with Rebecca the Great Children’s Minister to create a painting for them. On the back of the painting, as I was trying to write a nice little note to accompany Rebecca’s declaration that “Beca and Dee hate Texas” (which is where they are going), I found myself writing a haiku that went along with the day’s worship service, the last line of which expresses what Patrick wanted to say to the congregation and what I wanted to say to him and Courtney:
Faith. Hope. Love. Believe.
Simple words. Never more true.
I believe in you.
I suppose that a haiku tree sprouted in me with those words and kept growing last night when nothing else in me could move:
1.
Willow tree weeping
Rain falling softly off leaves
Body slumped to ground
2.
Faith hope love remain
The greatest of these is love
Love one another
3.
Paralyzed nothing
Lying prostrate on the ground
I am very sad
4. (modified form)
“Don’t be sad that it’s over—
Be glad it happened”
I think I’ll be both.
5.
So much to be done.
Work stares at me, calls my name.
Not now. Tomorrow.
6.
Ignore everything.
Lay in bed and write haiku.
Wish for a Genie.
7. (modified form)
People are leaving.
I feel real sadness.
Please don’t tell me I shouldn’t.
8.
My partner is gone.
I don’t know where to begin.
Without you? Blank space.
9.
My mom does not cry.
Except when profoundly moved.
You are quite special.
And then today:
10.
The morning after
A night of sleep didn’t bring you back
Equally as hard
11.
Hey Mister Pastor
You challenged me to be a
Better me. Thank you.
12. (Title: Mountain Lake)
Breathe in cool, crisp air
Lay back in peaceful waters
Tension fades away
Funny, huh? That rhythmic words are all I can find right now. I guess maybe it’s a way to find structure and order when so much feels like it’s falling apart?
This is a strange gift
Writing haiku through sadness
But I guess it works
I struggle with goodbyes. Anyone who knows me knows this much. I’ve gotten better with goodbyes over the past few years. I’ve come to accept—more fully—that people come and go and that that is okay—even needed. Yet goodbyes are still hard—especially when they are said to a lot of people at once and/or to people I call friend and respect—and that has happened three times over the past three weeks.
On Sunday night, I told Mister Pastor Patrick and his beautiful wife Courtney goodbye. As part of their sending off, I worked with Rebecca the Great Children’s Minister to create a painting for them. On the back of the painting, as I was trying to write a nice little note to accompany Rebecca’s declaration that “Beca and Dee hate Texas” (which is where they are going), I found myself writing a haiku that went along with the day’s worship service, the last line of which expresses what Patrick wanted to say to the congregation and what I wanted to say to him and Courtney:
Faith. Hope. Love. Believe.
Simple words. Never more true.
I believe in you.
I suppose that a haiku tree sprouted in me with those words and kept growing last night when nothing else in me could move:
1.
Willow tree weeping
Rain falling softly off leaves
Body slumped to ground
2.
Faith hope love remain
The greatest of these is love
Love one another
3.
Paralyzed nothing
Lying prostrate on the ground
I am very sad
4. (modified form)
“Don’t be sad that it’s over—
Be glad it happened”
I think I’ll be both.
5.
So much to be done.
Work stares at me, calls my name.
Not now. Tomorrow.
6.
Ignore everything.
Lay in bed and write haiku.
Wish for a Genie.
7. (modified form)
People are leaving.
I feel real sadness.
Please don’t tell me I shouldn’t.
8.
My partner is gone.
I don’t know where to begin.
Without you? Blank space.
9.
My mom does not cry.
Except when profoundly moved.
You are quite special.
And then today:
10.
The morning after
A night of sleep didn’t bring you back
Equally as hard
11.
Hey Mister Pastor
You challenged me to be a
Better me. Thank you.
12. (Title: Mountain Lake)
Breathe in cool, crisp air
Lay back in peaceful waters
Tension fades away
Funny, huh? That rhythmic words are all I can find right now. I guess maybe it’s a way to find structure and order when so much feels like it’s falling apart?
This is a strange gift
Writing haiku through sadness
But I guess it works
Monday, June 20, 2016
Moonrise
I walked in the door from a meeting tonight only to have Bullet demand that I take him out for his nightly potty break.
Because I still had my shoes on and because it feels great outside, I decided to take the little guy for a full walk tonight.
Just as we were returning home, I realized that I’d forgotten to check the mail. When I turned around to walk back to the mailbox, I was struck by a brilliant orange moon peaking over the trees at the end of the street.
I said to myself, “Wow. That wasn’t there just a few minutes ago.”
Then I proceeded to stand at the bottom of my driveway and watch the most beautiful moonrise I had ever seen.
“That is so beautiful, God,” I kept saying. “And to think that I wouldn’t have seen it had I not turned back.”
Sometimes, I suppose, we need to move forward and not look back because the pictures that we see of Egypt are deceptively beautiful and can hold us back.
But sometimes, just maybe, it’s okay to look back. Because, sometimes, just maybe, looking back helps us see something beautiful that we didn’t know was there waiting to peak above the horizon.
The rabbit in the moon is very clear tonight.
Thank you, God, for its beauty. And thank you for the reminder of your presence tonight…and every night. Amen.
---
Moonrise (by D.H. Lawrence)
And who has seen the moon, who has not seen
Her rise from out the chamber of the deep,
Flushed and grand and naked, as from the chamber
Of finished bridegroom, seen her rise and throw
Confession of delight upon the wave,
Littering the waves with her own superscription
Of bliss, till all her lambent beauty shakes towards us
Spread out and known at last, and we are sure
That beauty is a thing beyond the grave,
That perfect, bright experience never falls
To nothingness, and time will dim the moon
Sooner than our full consummation here
In this odd life will tarnish or pass away.
Because I still had my shoes on and because it feels great outside, I decided to take the little guy for a full walk tonight.
Just as we were returning home, I realized that I’d forgotten to check the mail. When I turned around to walk back to the mailbox, I was struck by a brilliant orange moon peaking over the trees at the end of the street.
I said to myself, “Wow. That wasn’t there just a few minutes ago.”
Then I proceeded to stand at the bottom of my driveway and watch the most beautiful moonrise I had ever seen.
“That is so beautiful, God,” I kept saying. “And to think that I wouldn’t have seen it had I not turned back.”
Sometimes, I suppose, we need to move forward and not look back because the pictures that we see of Egypt are deceptively beautiful and can hold us back.
But sometimes, just maybe, it’s okay to look back. Because, sometimes, just maybe, looking back helps us see something beautiful that we didn’t know was there waiting to peak above the horizon.
The rabbit in the moon is very clear tonight.
Thank you, God, for its beauty. And thank you for the reminder of your presence tonight…and every night. Amen.
---
Moonrise (by D.H. Lawrence)
And who has seen the moon, who has not seen
Her rise from out the chamber of the deep,
Flushed and grand and naked, as from the chamber
Of finished bridegroom, seen her rise and throw
Confession of delight upon the wave,
Littering the waves with her own superscription
Of bliss, till all her lambent beauty shakes towards us
Spread out and known at last, and we are sure
That beauty is a thing beyond the grave,
That perfect, bright experience never falls
To nothingness, and time will dim the moon
Sooner than our full consummation here
In this odd life will tarnish or pass away.
Saturday, June 18, 2016
Introducing Oskaretta (and Lu and Iggy)
A few months before working on summer camp staff for the first time, my brother helped me purchase my first guitar. I figured that guitar playing would be a good skill to have. That first guitar was a simple Oscar Schmidt starter guitar, acoustic, darkish brown wood. His name was Oskar. My brother taught me my first basic chords on Oskar. I completed four years of summer missions and two years of teaching with Oskar. I recorded my first CD with Oskar and he took center stage on that CD cover. Then Oskar was stolen was from my classroom, and I was very sad.
…
A few weeks ago, I went to one of my student’s music recitals. She played piano. Her sister played guitar and violin (on different songs of course). I was very impressed by the recital and I was equally intrigued by the guitars that the music teacher had suggested for her students. After playing one of the guitars, I decided that it might be good to purchase one to keep in my classroom. In the process of searching for a very specific guitar, I stumbled upon a beautiful Oscar Schmidt guitar that I had to make myself not buy simply for nostalgic purposes.
…
Yesterday, I went to my favorite little local music store. After piddling around for a little while, talking to the store owner, and playing the two nicest guitars in the room, I looked up and saw another guitar that I thought was pretty. [Yes. I know. Pretty isn’t necessarily the most important thing about a guitar!] When I asked about the guitar, the owner said, “Oh. That’s nothing much. Just an Oscar Schmidt that someone traded in.” I said, “Really?! An Oscar Schmidt?! That was the first guitar I bought from you! And I was just looking at another Oscar Schmidt online. Can I play this one?!” So I played it. And almost immediately both the store owner and I knew that I was leaving the store with a new guitar.
She just fit.
Her name is Oskaretta, Oskar’s daughter. She used to belong to a Woodstock attending, Harley-Davidson riding, eclectic, brilliant Catholic missionary.
Now she belongs in my musical family…with an awesome coordinating strap and capo. [While pretty isn’t necessarily the most important thing about a guitar, it is important to properly accessorize once the guitar has spoken its desire to belong to a family.]
…
So I began with an Oscar Schmidt many years and now I’m back to the same. For now.
Funny how time brings things back around.
…
Oskaretta S. Deaton: I will do my best to take care of you and to continue your original owner’s work of sharing God’s love through music. Here’s to a new, unexpected partnership that I hope benefits us both. Amen.
…
A few weeks ago, I went to one of my student’s music recitals. She played piano. Her sister played guitar and violin (on different songs of course). I was very impressed by the recital and I was equally intrigued by the guitars that the music teacher had suggested for her students. After playing one of the guitars, I decided that it might be good to purchase one to keep in my classroom. In the process of searching for a very specific guitar, I stumbled upon a beautiful Oscar Schmidt guitar that I had to make myself not buy simply for nostalgic purposes.
…
Yesterday, I went to my favorite little local music store. After piddling around for a little while, talking to the store owner, and playing the two nicest guitars in the room, I looked up and saw another guitar that I thought was pretty. [Yes. I know. Pretty isn’t necessarily the most important thing about a guitar!] When I asked about the guitar, the owner said, “Oh. That’s nothing much. Just an Oscar Schmidt that someone traded in.” I said, “Really?! An Oscar Schmidt?! That was the first guitar I bought from you! And I was just looking at another Oscar Schmidt online. Can I play this one?!” So I played it. And almost immediately both the store owner and I knew that I was leaving the store with a new guitar.
She just fit.
Her name is Oskaretta, Oskar’s daughter. She used to belong to a Woodstock attending, Harley-Davidson riding, eclectic, brilliant Catholic missionary.
Now she belongs in my musical family…with an awesome coordinating strap and capo. [While pretty isn’t necessarily the most important thing about a guitar, it is important to properly accessorize once the guitar has spoken its desire to belong to a family.]
…
So I began with an Oscar Schmidt many years and now I’m back to the same. For now.
Funny how time brings things back around.
…
Oskaretta S. Deaton: I will do my best to take care of you and to continue your original owner’s work of sharing God’s love through music. Here’s to a new, unexpected partnership that I hope benefits us both. Amen.
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