Self-Care, Success, and Apples

**Note: I write more when I notice multiple ideas synchronizing at the same time... this is one of those posts. That also means this may be a bit scattered... **

I'm big on self-care. I used to be horrible at it, or at least it was misdirected. I would over-exercise, deny myself yummy food, and get up early/stay up late. I thought it was healthy because that's what everyone tells you-- "everyone" meaning american culture, hollywood, magazines, and TV... when I think about it that way, it's pretty clear that all of those have become the same thing. I digress...

When I went into my Ordination Interview last week, one of the questions they asked me was about where I saw myself in ministry in 5 years.  As someone seeking a first call, logistically a 5 year window lands you right on the cusp of transitioning from the first call to the second. So really, I could have said any number of positions-- senior pastor, specialized associate pastor, solo pastor, campus minister, social service chaplain...

I briefly responded to his question by saying I will likely head for the parish, but I'm open to however the Spirit moves me. And then, I followed it up by saying:

"AND... I want to be in a healthy place." 

The man who asked the question, who is also a pastor, laughed (I don't know why, perhaps he assumed I meant a church that was healthy). Despite his laughter, I continued speaking because being healthy is so important to me as a person, a partner, and a pastor. I went on to say that we have lost a serious understanding of self-care in ministry and that if we don't cultivate pastors and parishioners who put in the time to take care to themselves, then we are going to lose church all together.

I am one of the biggest self-care advocates that I know and it's largely because of the shift that happened for me in seminary-- going from an exerciseaholic to someone who takes time to rest. I know what it's like to think I'm resting, when really I'm stressing myself out, depriving myself of sleep, and working too hard. True self-care is something I learned during field ed in seminary, not through the seminary itself. There was very little evidence, institutionally, that self-care was of any import. Yet, my mentor had developed incredible boundaries for herself that she wanted to pass on knowing that as a young pastor I would soon be swept up into a congregation who wanted to work me hard. Being a young female, and the product of a generation that is always connected to something (thank you, technology), I often feel like I need to prove myself. I buy into the myth that working harder, longer, busier hours will get me everything I need to succeed in life.

But what is success anyway?

And especially success at the expense of one's health?

I am grateful to Rob Leveridge, a brilliant UCC pastor and singer/songwriter, who wrote a blogpost today about apple trees.  Rob asks the question: What is the purpose of the apple tree? We think it is to produce apples, when really it is to produce more apple trees. Rob writes, "People think apples are the plant's reason for being, because WE love to eat apples, and we cultivate and groom the trees to get their fruit. But from the tree's point of view, the apple is just a part of a process that serves a bigger goal. It's a delivery system for the seeds." So if success is not our fruits, then what is it?

Success is embodied in the seeds we plant. This means that the way we live our life, the legacies we leave for those who follow us must be seeds worth reaping. What does the way you live your life say to your children? Your parishioners?

So, I understand self-care as the manifold practices of ritual and activity and/or lack thereof that help us to maintain a healthy emotional, spiritual, physical, and mental well-being. This can be anything from a nap to a walk in the forest to watching a movie to using all of your vacation days to blogging to playing with your kids or your dog or your partner just because. Perhaps it's spontaneous, perhaps its a ritual... but hopefully it is sacred and life-giving.

When we live in ways that honor our bodies, honor G-d, and honor each other, we plant seeds for future generations that say:
       
      There is more to life than busyness.
                  Do not be conformed to this world but be transformed.
                           Take care of yourself.
                                                                 
                                                           Pause.         Breathe.

                       
                                 
              Do what is life-giving. 

                                                                          Is your life giving?

At Koinonia on Sunday, we experienced the last installment of a sermon series called Generation to Generation. Each week, to my understanding, the pastors invited folks from the highlighted generation of that week to respond to a few questions that helped the congregation understand more about their generation. Questions like: What was the most significant political event of your time? What does the grace of G-d look like for you? What was passed onto you that you remember most? This last week we heard from the Builder Generation (those who were greatly influenced by the Great Depression and WWII). Over the course of the conversation, we heard from these folks how the lives of their parents or grandparents gave them support, strength, music, opportunities, hope. And we heard about how their lives are giving to their children now....perspective, stories, love.

Generation to generation, our lives give... so do what is life-giving.


Last thing...  It was important for me to tell the committee that I hope to be in a healthy place because now they can hold me accountable to this commitment. I feel more dedicated to taking care of myself and finding ways of taking my Sabbath because I know there are others who will look to me as an example. I am a woman of my word... especially when my word is life-giving.

Damsel(fly) in Distress

[[I would encourage you, if your device allows, to play this song while you read this post.]]

I was having a frustrating morning, so when I happened upon Lillie Park I thought I would stop to just take in some beauty for a hot second. As it turns out, there are all kinds of paths, ponds, and picnic tables that sit in this bowl-shaped park. I was super grateful to find this place because when you're walking around, you hardly feel like you're in the middle of Pittsfield/Ypsilanti. Anyway, I walked around a little bit, trying to take in the sights and sounds.

relevant tangent: I was challenged by my mentor, during my second semester of Field Ed., to take an hour a day to do nothing. That nothing could be watching the sunset, taking an aimless walk, taking a nap, laying on the quad... anything that was nothing. This was a struggle for me, as you can imagine, being the active person I am-- both in mind and body. I tried to convince Curran it was impossible being a seminarian and working 15 hrs a week to do such a thing, but I tried anyway.... for about two weeks... and then midterms and Lent hit, and it was nearly impossible. (Though, the amount of time I spend on facebook and checking my email everyday has to add up to an hour at least...) Nonetheless, I learned an important lesson: Take time to be quiet, to be amazed, and to just breathe.

So I'm walking around Lillie Park and felt drawn to a dock that extended over the pond. The water was far more clear than I had anticipated. So I leaned over the edge of the dock and observed a small school of fish-- little bluegills or something similar. I took a moment to pray about my frustrating morning and just wondered about the fish. [Do they have worries? Are there bigger fish in the pond that could eat them? Do they know it, if that's true?]  Then I moved to the other side of the dock and I immediately saw a beautiful purple damselfly floating in the water.

I wondered about its fate: do damselflies usually lie in the water? I have to imagine her wings are saturated...  I assumed the damselfly was lifeless and immediately began singing this in my head. I mourned its passing for a moment... and then I saw its legs move. I was overcome with this need to save this creature. Out of reverence for all of created life? Out of a human survival instinct? Until Sasha came along I killed spiders, flies, bees... you name it, I sought to squash it.


But there was some ineffable nudge that just wouldn't subside.

So I looked around for... something. I thought maybe I could find a stick or a twig of some kind. I ended up breaking a small twig off of a dead bush just next to the water. As the wind pushed the water, the damselfly drifted closer to the dock. I knelt down, reached my arm out, holding the twig to rescue her. I didn't know if this would be more helpful or harmful.

She grabbed onto the twig and I pulled her onto the dock and set it down. I hoped she would just fly off, but to no avail, so I waited patiently. One wing was snagged on the twig so I took one of the keys on my key ring and gently brushed the wing off. She hopped off the twig and onto the dock. I wondered if she was drying off, just sitting there... or perhaps she was stuck again to something... or perhaps she was dying. I wasn't certain. Being the human that I am, I thought maybe I should help more. So I thought maybe it would be of use to separate her from the dock to give her some lift into the air. She was unmoved. Just then, a gust of wind came and moved the twig in her direction, separating her from the dock and off she flew. Just like that she was gone... thanks to the wind, and probably G-d. I hoped that her wings weren't too waterlogged so that she could continue flying, liberated just as I hope she was before.

What a moment of recognizing that we can only do so much.
What a moment of resurrection.

Thanks to Mary Oliver, here's another way of putting what I learned last year and was reminded of again today:

"Instructions for living a life.
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it."

May it be so.

Holy Synchronicity

Though today was only day one, I hope to continue blogging throughout my CPE journey. It's going to be a long haul and I'm going to have plenty to process (hopefully coherently) outside of class. This may be just one manifestation of that. Welcome to the wild ride. 

Today, after I got home from class-- which was a full 8 hours of learning how to use the computer system-- I found two emails: one was a poem from a daily poem subscription and the other was my enneathought.* 

The poem is called "The Moment" and it's from Margaret Atwood:

The moment when, after many years
of hard work and a long voyage
you stand in the centre of your room,
house, half-acre, square mile, island, country,
knowing at last how you got there,
and say, I own this,  

is the same moment when the trees unloose
their soft arms from around you,
the birds take back their language,
the cliffs fissure and collapse,
the air moves back from you like a wave
and you can't breathe. 

No, they whisper. You own nothing.
You were a visitor, time after time
climbing the hill, planting the flag, proclaiming.
We never belonged to you.
You never found us.
It was always the other way round.

And my enneathought said this:

No matter what type we are, Holy Law is the dynamic, living unity of everything as an unfolding process. There can be no independent doing or accomplishment because everything is happening together. 

Holy synchronicity, right? And I mean Holy with a capital H. Holy. 

How perfect that these two texts would collide on the same day that I start CPE. While this experience is about me learning and growing and learning new ways to be in ministry with others, chaplaincy is not about me at all. It is about entering the cosmic flow of dialogue with a patient; it's about letting go of my own ego and desires; it's about encountering the unfolding of life before me; it's about paying attention to the gifts of life and death; it's about the living unity and dynamism of everything; it's about being 'a visitor time after time' and not pretending like I know everything; it's about being curious; it's about finding and being found. Without G-d** this experience is nothing. Which means I am never doing this work independently-- though I may like to think so. G-d is present with me in every moment, every prayer, every mistake, every hurdle, every learning. Every Everything. 

G-d, in search for communion, created the world in G-d's own image-- that multifarious and complex image. In this diversity and unity (but not uniformity), we are called to care for each other and seek justice through fostering right relationships with one another. The mission statement of the health system for whom I am working says this:

We serve together in the spirit of the Gospel to be a compassionate and transforming healing presence within our communities. 

Yes. I yearn to be a part of that. I yearn to serve together, understanding that nothing is done without the unfolding of the rest of life; I yearn to serve in the spirit of the Gospel understanding that I own nothing and seek to be just one speck in someone's healing process; I yearn to be a compassionate and transforming healing presence because I know it is that to which I am so deeply called; and I yearn to do all of this within [these] communities because it is a place that values the dignity and respect of the vulnerable. 

When I write it all down, I get really excited... 

                                                                and yet there are those pesky dragons....





*Enneathought is a daily email from the Enneagram Institute, which I love. To learn more about it or what your enneagram number might be, follow this link. Also I love talking about the enneagram so feel free to engage me around that as well.

**I use ‘G-d’ as a way to reference the mystery and vastness of the Divine. Dashes indicate that the reader should take note of the substance between the dashes. In this case, it is my hope that to use a dash instead of an ‘o’ we are reminded to stand in awe of the ineffable, limitlessness of the Holy—an unfinished word for a Still-Speaking G-d. It also hearkens back to G-d’s chosen name in the Hebrew Scriptures: יהוה, Yahweh, which is actually an non-word in Hebrew. 
 

Here be dragons...

Well, I'm back. Oh, blogging-- how I've missed you.

As you've probably noticed, or maybe you haven't, this blog received a facelift. I changed the background as I start a new phase. Just today I began the last piece of formal education in my ordination process with the UCC: Clinical Pastoral Education. CPE, as it is commonly known, is required for most people entering professional Christian ministry. It is most commonly experienced as hospital chaplaincy. Here is how the Association for CPE explains their program:

Clinical Pastoral Education is interfaith professional education for ministry. It brings theological students and ministers of all faiths (pastors, priests, rabbis, imams and others) into supervised encounter with persons in crisis. Out of an intense involvement with persons in need, and the feedback from peers and teachers, students develop new awareness of themselves as persons and of the needs of those to whom they minister. From theological reflection on specific human situations, they gain a new understanding of ministry. Within the interdisciplinary team process of helping persons, they develop skills in interpersonal and interprofessional relationships. 

It is a very challenging and enlightening experience, from what I've heard. Today I met my cohort, supervisor(s) and was trained in the hospital computer system. Fortunately, I've had to enter stats on a daily basis before, so I know the routine. (Thank you, MFP.) All the other change that will come soon floats all around my mind. I'm reminded of something Elizabeth Johnson, C.S.J., wrote about medieval map makers. "When [they] came to the limit of their knowledge of the known world, they ofttimes wrote in the empty space, 'Here be dragons.' There is something frightening about moving into the unknown, which might harm or devour us" (Quest for the Living God, p. 5). When we don't know what lies ahead, it is easy to make stuff up or concoct anxieties that might not ever exist in our impending experience. At least I know this to be true for me. And for anyone who has heard me talk about my nerves about CPE, you know this to be true about me as well. We are human-- we tend to be afraid of what we don't know. As I have already learned with CPE, it's important to be able to name what you're feeling. And as my favorite 6 year old tells me, "Feel your fear and act anyway" (Chloe Robberts-Mosser). And so I take a take a breath (or two), I say a prayer (or two), and I jump into the dragon- filled unknown.

As for the name change... it used to be "own the mystery." But with my next post, you'll see why I changed it away from the language of ownership. I have changed it to "hold it up to the light" after one of my favorite songs by David Wilcox. You can listen to it here. It is one of those songs that have helped me in my discernment of... everything. It seems appropriate as I head into the sea of dragons. 

"I said ,'God, will you bless this decision, because I'm so scared here with my life at stake. And now I see if you gave me a vision, then I would never have reason to use my faith.'"

Embodying Love

"Embodying Love"
Sermon delivered at Community Congregational Church, United Church of Christ in Tiburon, CA.
Scripture: Matthew 24:36-44
Poems by Ranier Maria Rilke, "God Speaks to Each of Us As He Made Us"
and Stephen Levine, "If Prayer Would Do It"
December 1, 2013


Have you all heard of the Left Behind series? The one by Tim LaHaye and Jerry Jenkins? When I was in elementary school, between 5th and 7th grade, there was a part of my day, I think it usually happened in the morning, when my teacher, Mr. Nykamp, would read our class a chapter, or a portion of a chapter from one of the Left Behind books. As he would read, we would practice our listening comprehension skills. After he finished we had about 20 minutes to write a 7 sentence synopsis of the chapter and draw a picture. This happened week after week. I always loathed the assignment because I had a hard time paying attention to the overarching message in things, especially when it’s being said or read to me. And the drawing. Oh my gosh—I could not even draw two semi-symmetrical hands, much less a pair of pants that didn’t look like an upside down V. I thought it was such an odd story--people’s clothes being left on earth while their bodies mysteriously disappeared, floating off to heaven? Then again, I remember drawing that picture and fearing the day that would (hopefully) happen to me.

Oftentimes that plot, with the clothes and the bodies rising, is taken from the scripture we heard this morning. Matthew 24 is part of an apocalyptic discourse. Apocalypticism is a worldview held by many ancient Jews and Christians that said the present age is controlled by forces of evil, but that they will be destroyed at the end of time when God intervenes in history to bring the Kin-dom. Jesus lived in a time when Jews strongly held this belief. They thought that the second coming of God to earth was happening, like, tomorrow. So they had to be prepared. They had to be on top of their game because God was coming back in some manifestation really soon. Thus, we hear in this passage, “Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming.“

This is why this passage is used during Advent. Remember, in the Christian liturgical calendar, Advent is a time of waiting, of anticipation of the birth of Jesus into the world. Just as we celebrate Lent and Easter every year to remember that our lives are a constant representation of dying and resurrecting, it is important to celebrate Advent and Christmas. Advent is the “expectant waiting, hopeful anticipation, and cheerful preparation of God breaking into our lives.” It comes every year because we need to be reminded of what it means to wait for the Holy. In reality, we wait for God all the time, but that’s why we set apart Advent, so that we can observe it together and help each other prepare. This is not the preparation of mainstream culture—that of shopping, planning, buying, baking, parties, eggnog, Santa, and gifts. It’s about being together and preparing ourselves for what is to come.

The interesting thing you may have noticed in the scripture is this piece about “one will be taken and one will be left.” That doesn’t sound very promising… nor does it sound communal—people being separated when the Kin-dom of God comes? That doesn’t sound like what Jesus taught throughout his ministry. In the Left behind series, it is the faithful who are taken up to Heaven, but in the scripture it is not this way. The ones who were left were those who were spared by God. This takes what we have so often heard and flips it on its head. In the retelling of the Noah story in Matthew, it was Noah, his family, and the animals who stayed in the ark and the rest were swept away by the flood. Jesus makes it clear to us in the scriptures that the Kin-dom of God is coming to Earth. Whether it’s the flooding of the world, Jesus being born, or the Kin-dom coming, we prepare for these pivotal moments by changing the way we live. Hence the phrase, “live everyday like it’s your last,” right? This is precisely what the Jews were doing when the author was writing this gospel. Preparing for something they thought was imminent.

So I have a scenario for you—say Curran left on September 2nd and said: “I’m going on Sabbatical and I will come back when I feel rested. Keep up with everything as best you can and I’ll be back when I’m back, however long it takes.” What would we have done differently during that time than we did these past three months? I’m convinced we would have done it just the same way for as long as we needed to. Even though we would have no idea when Curran would return, we would have rallied around and held each other and visited folks when they were ill and tended to the needs of the church and followed through on our community responsibilities. We would have put every ounce of energy into whatever we did with as much fervor as we did. We would have been just as faithful to one another.

Over these past three months we:
•Celebrated Vada Gae and sent her off to NC with love
•Hosted Wayne Muller for a weekend
•Witnessed the marriage of Frank and Lois
•Observed Dia de los Muertos with prayer stations
•Carried out a great Pledge Drive with the theme “All Together Now”
•Started up our involvement with the REST program again
•Gathered clothing and monetary donations for Marin Interfaith Street Chaplaincy
•Started our participation in Christmas Families
•Celebrated together with a Thanksgiving Feast
•Hosted five guest preachers and heard from six of our own flock.

Let us take a deep breath together. We certainly managed a lot. And you know what? We didn’t just accomplish a list of tasks or do what we were “supposed to do.” We answered a calling. While Curran was away CCC was left, not necessarily left behind, but left to explore what it means to be faithful, especially what it means to be faithful to our community. We followed the words of Rilke:

You, sent out beyond your recall, go to the limits of your longing. 

Embody me. 

Flare up like flame and 

make big shadows I can move in. 

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. 

Just keep going. No feeling is final. 

Don’t let yourself lose me. 

 When we keep awake, we remain alert to the movement of the spirit in our midst. When we wait expectantly, it is not a passive waiting, but an active waiting. We did not sit back and let these last three months just happen. We actively participated in the life of our church, reaching out to those who needed it, feeding those who were hungry, nourishing our community with food and fellowship. I watched as this community stepped up to the call, answered each stirring of the Spirit. This time of Advent, while preparing us for the birth of Jesus the Christ, also reminds us that we must be continually prepared for what is happening in our midst, no matter what that might be.

Our theme for advent is “Opening to the Mystery.” Spirit Life decided that ‘opening’ suggested a continual searching, as opposed to a one time event. When Curran anointed me three months ago, she invited you all to affirm my capacity to make mistakes. You gave me permission to fail. And believe me, fail I did in some ways. More importantly, that moment opened me up and kept me open to the mysterious nature of what lay ahead of us as a church. There was mystery at every step of the journey. There were twists and turns I didn’t anticipate, both in my life and here at church. There were decisions to be made and themes to determine. Burdens to hold and bulletins to write. But more than anything, these past few months have taught me that we never do anything alone.

So now, in Advent, we do not wait alone. We do not hope alone. We do not prepare alone. We do it “all together now.” Being prepared means being faithful to your community. And the best way to be faithful to your community is to love one another through thick and thin, to embody the love of the Holy. When Christmas comes, it will not mean that we are done with this faithfulness. This is only the next beginning of many beginnings. May we enter into Advent with a renewed sense of community and may we help each other keep awake, continually preparing for the next thing, the next movement of the Spirit.

Embody the Holy.
Just keep going.
Give me your hand.
Keep awake.

Amen.