Questions and answers

I have a lot of questions a lot of the time.  I love to hear people's stories and I like to learn from their mistakes.  I don't really care as much what you believe as how God shows up in your life.  I don't need you to quote me a scripture about God being faithful - just tell me about the times He's been faithful to you.  I can usually take it from there.

Thankfully God has graciously surrounded this life with people who enjoy (or at least act like they do!) lively conversations, a good debate, and late night chats.  They're people I want to (and sometimes do!) crawl up next to and say, "Tell me about Jesus."  And graciously - they do.  Over and over and over again we share stories of His presence, His peace and we find encouragement by being at His feet - together.

People always say, "When I get to Heaven I'm going to ask God......."  You fill in the blank.  We want to know why someone died, why someone lived, how God could allow the worst thing possible, and how He could seemingly look away when life was unfair.  How can He love us and still let us stumble and fall and hurt so deeply?  We shake our fists to Heaven and cry, "Where were you?"  And sometimes the deafening silence from Heaven is unbearably heartbreaking.  

Such is a life of faith.  To struggle with the questions and embrace the idea that there may be no answers.  Not here.  And maybe not There either.  To wrestle with the unknown and believe anyway.

To my knowledge I've never spent 90 minutes or 20 seconds or even a millisecond in Heaven.  Once I get there, I plan on staying.  But, sometimes when I need to know God is especially close; when my questions have drowned out the voice of the Answer and I feel alone in my wonderings; when I need to know God is still here - still at work - and still for the sinner, I play this little scenario out in my head.

I imagine myself walking through Heaven's door and kneeling before the One who has mattered more than anyone, anything.  I find the courage to look into His caring eyes and I find them to be smiling.  I say nothing because - I can't.  His loving face turns gently to the side as he asks, "What is it child?"

I think as hard as I can, but my mind is blank.  I look up at Him and say, "I thought there was something I was going to ask you.  It was really, really important to me just five minutes ago.  But, now?  Now I can't remember."

And in that moment I know for sure.  The questions are important.  They matter especially to the Earth bound sinner.  But one day they'll all be swallowed up and completely lose their power by the One who lovingly calls me to remember that He is the Answer.  Yesterday.  Today.  Forever.

Giving up Christmas for Advent

I'm still relatively new to the liturgical tradition.  I've only been in the Episcopal church almost two years.  I've experienced Lent twice, Advent and Christmas once, my own Confirmation and a host of other church traditions.  I love all of it.  Rest assured, I'm not drawn into the church by the glitz and glamour or the smells and bells if you will.  I understand it isn't all wonderful.  Nothing in this world makes me crazier or happier than the church.

Advent is my happy place.  Truth be told, I'm horrible at waiting, but through some long dark nights and seasons of the soul, I've learned to wait better.  I'm committed to Christ and most days I'm determined to see this journey to the end.  One time in a moment of extreme spiritual maturity I screamed.  Out loud.  "I'm NOT waiting ANYMORE!"  As clear as anything I've ever heard God said, "You can kick and you can scream or you can wait well, but you're going to wait."

HUMPH!

I throw a holy fit semi regularly, but the great thing about God being the most important part of this life is the moment when I've worn myself completely out.  And I collapse on my bed and say, "Okay.  I'll do it your way.  I'll wait when it's hard.  I'll trust you when the nights are long.  And I'll love you all the way."  And I actually mean it.  Then I go to sleep because I'm pretty sure God needs a break from me as much as I do.

There's never a season spiritually that we aren't waiting for something.  Something to change.  Something to happen.  Something to stop happening.  Waiting on the world to change or at least our corner of it is exhausting.

But there's comfort and growth in the times when the calendar is missing and the clock seems stuck at never going to happen.

And if I really, really listen carefully, I always hear the whisper of Emmanuel in this season as he speaks to this heart....."I'm waiting with you."

Mortality

No surprise to anyone that knows me or has read my new book that my favorite place in all the world is the monastery.  Monastic ground is sacred space to this life.  Occasionally my soul feels spiritually disconnected, my heart feels fragile, and my mind feels tired.  So, I go to the monastery.  The last few days was my first trip back post book publishing and I wondered if it would still be sacred.  Would it still hold the wonder?  Now that I've researched their practices and documented their lives, would I still feel wonderfully invisible in the choir stalls?

Thankfully, I did.  I quickly melded into the community I have come to honor and admire.  I closed my eyes and listed as sung vespers washed over my soul.  Confusion lessened.  Stress released.  The bells were calling me to a future and hope.  They were calling me.......Home.  Maybe not today.  But someday.

Speaking of someday, I spent several hours this trip in the Honeycreek Woodlands at their natural burial grounds.  I'm sorta dark when it comes to death.  I like to talk about it.  All of it.  I like to discuss when, where, how, why, and what happens.  In case you don't believe me, one of my most favorite books is this.  No really, it is.

I visited the eco-friendly sites both natural and cremated remains.  I talked to the groundskeepers who had fabulous stories and opinions on all things death and burial.  The grounds are beautiful.  The atmosphere reverent.  I'm not "green" per say, but eco-friendly burial makes a lot of sense to me and I'm not done researching it.  Of course, I'm also under the impression that once we're gone from here it won't really make a difference.  At all.

I returned to the monastery in time to sit in my stall for Compline.  Directly across from me was the oldest monk at that monastery.  101 years old.  Crouched over the prayer book in front of him, he bowed in all the right places.  He knew all the words.  Allegedly he'll meet his final resting place before I will.  He'll probably meet his Maker before I see Him face to face.  And in that moment I was grateful that we live in community together and we'll spend eternity together as well.  One God.

The Church Disposable

Even though I promised myself I wouldn't.  Even though every time I couldn't get the wording right or the pages right or my thoughts in any kind of order I said I'd never write another book.  I am.  Two of them.  Funny how God uses that multiplies principle at inconvenient times.  I told myself I'd maybe write another book when I finished grad school.  I'm not at all finished with school and yet I find myself opening a new file on my computer and writing Chapter 1.  Happy sigh.  I'm finding that one becomes a writer because one can't not write.  Don't like double negatives?  Too bad :)

My next book will be about the church, about this generation and the one behind me, and why church cannot possibly continue as it has been.  I've always had a love hurt relationship with church the building and church the people.  And I'm not going to lie - being a single 32 year old woman makes it hard to fit into any church setting.  I adore the people I worship with currently, but I still don't exactly fit there.  I don't really fit anywhere.  And in great moments of faith I consider that a spiritual blessing because it throws me into the arms of the Almighty just about all the time.  But sometimes, if I'm really honest, I wish the church could be everywhere.  And why can't it be?

I'm planning to figure that out in the months to come.

And the journey continues......

What I'm reading

People always ask me what I'm reading.  I used to read a LOT more, but since I've embarked on a grad school quest, I'm trapped into reading things I care nothing about most of the time.  Ahem.  Anyway, I'm still reading about a book a week or so of my own choosing.  You should know I'll read just about anything, especially if someone says it's controversial.  I actually don't believe in hating a book without reading it.  And I believe we can read something we completely disagree without falling off the alleged deep end.  These are the books I'm reading currently.  Most I've read before and going back to reread for various reasons.  

 

 

 I love Ed Dobson.  He's living/dying with ALS right now and that gives him an amazing perspective on a lot of things.  He's friendly and The Year of Living Like Jesus is a great read.  I love his discovery that the rosary actually isn't just about praying to Mary.  I love his conversations with Rabbis and Catholic Priests.  It's a great book.

 I'm doing some research on death for an upcoming project right now so I've headed back into my bookcase to reread this one.  This book is a dance between a woman who's dying and the man who loves her.  It's biographical and a beautiful memoir that will leave you longing for Heaven.

 I'm also rereading this memoir.  I love this book.  It's long and drawn out, but I have great respect for anyone who tries to do anything to get closer to God.  It's an incredible journey and you'll be glad he let you come along.

 Ooooooo!  Controversy!  My favorite.  Someone told me not to read this book - so it's next on my list :)

 Sophy Burnham is one of my very favorite authors.  Her books are beautiful and welcoming.  Eloquently written, don't stop with this one.  Read her other books too.

I pretty much hate history, but I make myself read books about history because it's good for me.  I suppose.  I actually do love Arlington Cemetery so I'm looking forward to this one. 

Grace with free refills

Though I do love the mysterious element of serving an invisible God, occasionally I would prefer He come over for coffee, explain what was what is and what is to come, and leave before I get so convicted of my unworthiness that I die on the spot in an undeserving heap. 

I love the physical presence of Christ.  And even though we're on this side of actually touching the scars on his hands, I have to believe he's here.  It's why I love the Eucharist when the liurgy invites the presence of Christ to appear\.  And it's why I love prayer.  For those few minutes we're sharing the same space and the distance between Heaven and Earth disappears.

It's no surprise to anyone at this point that coffee is my love language.  Yeah, sure, I'm addicted to the large amounts of caffeine I mix into blonde roasts and lattes every day.  And I do feel more secure in an unsettled world that even if my Starbucks blows away, I have the Verismo at my house and I will survive.  But, it's more than the cream and Truvia blending my happiness into a cup of happiness.  It's the experience. 

Coffee with friends invites us to linger.  To discuss.  To not know what time it is.  To not be in such a hurry to get to the next thing that we miss this thing.  And God invites us to the very same thing.  To not just say our prayers to move on.  To not complete a spiritual checklist. To not just ask God for what we need or want, but, to linger. 

If I'm honest, I get so wrapped up in my own little world that if I'm not very intentional, I'll forget God.  I'll leave Him out of the big decisions and the little details.  I'll forget to listen for His heartbeat in every situation and I won't let Him lead this life.  Oh, sure, I'll pray, but I won't linger.  I won't stay with His presence long enough to make a difference.  In me.  And I won't let the lifegiving presence of Christ change me.

Sometimes I need a literal reminder.  So, this morning I sat my favorite coffee mug on the counter and prayed, "God.  I invite you into this life for coffee.  For a lifelong conversation that never ends.  I invite you to linger.  Stay when I want to hide.  Stay until the parts of me that look nothing like you disappear.  And give me grace.  With free refills."

The winds of change

In retrospect, it may have been too much.  Working two full time jobs (for the last 10 years!), taking two grad school classes (one of them Statistics - yuck!), putting out a book, and having some semblance of a life all in the same 10 weeks.  It was heavy.  It was an invitation to blow things out of proportion and not be able to think clearly.  At all. 

And I found myself at the beach one day a few months ago holding this shell and thinking, "This is the heaviest thing I've carried today."  I suppose I meant that literally, but I also meant that emotionally, spiritually, humanly.  It felt so light in my hand, so effortless, so important. 

I believe God will let us go and go and go as long as we are willing or until we can't anymore.  He'll let us stay in the wrong place for the wrong reasons until we finally hear His sweet whisper saying, "Let go."  And it's a scary thing.  What if what changes is uncomfortable?  What if I don't like the changes?  What if??

And yet, the soul seems somewhat immune to fear and if you ignore it long enough, it's voice grows louder and it's call becomes clearer.  God leans in and before you can think to not listen, you hear Him say, "Stop crowding me out."  And you realize in that moment that you want nothing more than to make that space, that time.  And it feels more than right - it feels free.

So, recently I've put down some of the things I've been carrying for a long time.  I'm down to one full time job.  I'm making room for my writing.  I'm finally finishing grad school soon to get my master's in Psychology.  And I'm reconnecting with friends.  I can spend hours at lunch now if I want to or join them for a walk in the evening to talk about what God is up to or discuss plans or struggles.

For the first time in over a decade, I don't always have to know what time it is.  I don't have to be somewhere after somewhere before I have to be somewhere else.  I can just be sometimes.  I can get lost in a book.  I can take a nap.  I can finish my schoolwork without getting up before I go to bed.

And I can get completely lost in a yoga session, prayer time, or spending some time in quiet spiritual thought.  I can find God because I'm not too exhausted to look.  I'm redefining what it looks like to be me.  I can feel the winds of change blowing and I'm not just surviving.  I'm living.  I'm breathing.  I'm free.