A Learning Experience

It's hard for me to believe that it's been two months since I wrote in this Blog.  In my mind, I am writing all the time - making notes, tracking insights, penning confessions.  What is different this morning?  Don't know - it may be that it's my last morning for enjoying my favorite morning ritual - getting up, making a cup of coffee and bringing it back to bed while I read for a few minutes.  It's my way of pretending that I have some kind of control over my day and can create the kind of day that I want - relaxed, focused, thoughtful.  The ruse rarely lasts beyond finishing that cup of coffee, but I enjoy my 15 minutes of peaceful self-delusion nonetheless.

Later today, we will be taking apart our bed and moving it into a storage unit.  We have 9 days left in this house before we have to move, and it's quite a pressure-cooker.  Over the past two months, we have sold or given away nearly all of our furniture and much of our other worldly possessions.  We are down to beds, dressers and boxes filled with memories - photo albums, children's artwork, baby clothes for the next generation, etc.  We will be moving into my mother's house which, ironically, will be going on the market within days of our arrival.  So, we've had to rent a storage unit for the few things we've kept so that we don't clutter up her house as she's trying to impress potential buyers with its spaciousness.  

I could write for a long time this morning - as I said, it's my last morning of comfort, albeit illusional comfort - the house is quiet and it's tempting to keep it that way while I ponder our present and future.  But, the reality is that there remains a LOT of work to do and not much time in which to do it.  So, I'm going to force myself instead, to rather baldly commit my latest learnings to this page for my own future referencing, and hope that it makes sense to the two or three other people who might ever read this.

We are just about out of money and God has yet to point us toward any obvious landmark.  We have been living off of a loan from my retirement account and as of this morning, we have about $750 left to our name.  Of course, the Navy owes my husband $700 for a show he performed nearly a month ago, but we've yet to see it.  I realize that we may not be their priority, but a check from them would nearly double our assets.  Anyway, I have found myself getting increasingly anxious - not sleeping, dwelling on certain bitter thoughts about others who I felt either bore some responsibility for our situation or who failed to understand our choices.  I am overstating the case to some extent - mainly I have just trudged forward, doing what had to be done each day, and crossing things off of the endlessly self-generating to-do list.  As an introvert, my pattern is to internalize and, in this case, to repress my negative feelings in ways which have made me increasingly less available to those around me.  I may have thought that I was presenting the same self each day, but my husband and daughter had both begun to react in their own ways to my withdrawal.  

Then, as I was reading my daily Bible reading (a habit I have thankfully kept up), I had a revelation.  It dawned on me (literally - it was like the sun breaking over the horizon) that I was reenacting the very reason that I had left the church back in September.  I had been frustrated by both their lack of courage and their lack of joy.  When they had spoken the words, "... once our money is gone, we will cease to exist," I had been appalled.  Where was the faith?  Where was the recognition of a life based solely in God?  What kind of a church truly believed that its identity revolved around its bank account and not around its relationship with the Holy One?  And now, here I was.  

When I had made the decision to resign from the church, to become unemployed, to lose our home and health insurance and to be forced into a radical recreation of our lives, I had believed what I had been preaching - that in putting ourselves completely into the hands of God, we were embarking on an adventure toward joy - the kind of joy which comes only after the full commitment.  I had tried to tell the church that in letting go of their resources to seed ministries in the county, they were allowing God to teach them about radical discipleship, about trust, and about the abundance of God's resources available to those who walk humbly with their God.  I had preached on holy curiosity, about moving past the certainties of human reality to enter into the miraculous new certainties of God's reality.  But, they didn't bite.  And, even then, I might still have stayed if they had expressed any joy in their choices.  But, there was no joy there.  

So, I had left to live the sermon.  And, now, I realized that I had finally come to the place of reckoning.  Now we were, in fact, coming to the place where our money would be gone - truly gone.  And finally, after dragging my feet trying to slow the process of evaporation, after second-guessing myself and everyone around me, after becoming increasingly quiet and, yes, grim - finally God tapped me on the shoulder and whispered, "Good news!  You're almost there."  And I looked again and saw - "Good news - the money is almost gone.  Good news - you're almost homeless.  Good news - you're almost free of anything that might lure you away from complete and total trust in Me.  You're almost there."

Suddenly, I realized the simple truth that we were just in the hard part of the journey, but that we were, in fact, still on the path.  And I recognized that if I were going to become grim, I might just as well have stayed where I was.  And so, as I leave the comfort of my bed for the last time in this house here in Maryland, I am once again choosing joy.  I am rejoicing in the dawn and preparing for a new day in God's loving and creative presence.    

p.s. later that day:  I just discovered the remarkable fact that the Navy must be monitoring my blog - our check arrived this afternoon.

Who knew that being an unemployed minister could be so exhausting?  I don't know how I ever had time to hold down a real job.  Between working with my husband on the music career effort, homeschooling my daughter, and trying to keep life moving forward while preparing to move, it's just kind of relentless.  I spoke with a woman today who has been assigned to us as a homeschool resource person.  We've never met and as I gave her a brief overview of our current situation, she said it sounded like our lives were "fraught" with possibilities.  It was a perfect description.  "Fraught":  full of or accompanied by problems, dangers or difficulties; full of or expressing nervous tension and anxiety.  Possibilities and peril, potential and pitfalls.  It's all there.  

     We continue in leap mode.  The church kindly extended our stay in the parsonage until the end of March giving Mick time to continue rehearsing and recording with his band.  We hope to be able to solidify that musical relationship so that it can better withstand a move.  I've also found a small income source in typing manuscripts of congressional hearings, etc. for a company in DC - it's something I can do from home on a flexible schedule.  And, I'm meeting with a small group of folks who are picking up pieces of dreams/visions that God had been planting in Calvert County to open a Fair Trade gift/coffeeshop/bakery that would also serve as a training opportunity for people with special challenges in their lives - i.e. disabilities, single parenting, etc.  After only 3 meetings, we've knocked together a mission statement, found a space to rent, and initiated the process of becoming a nonprofit organization.  I don't know if I will still be in the area when it opens, but I am following my usual pattern of going with the "yes" until God says "no."  Whether or not I am able to deal with our housing question in order to stay and continue working with this group, it is unbelievably enlivening to sit around a table with people who are simply, sensibly, humorously, enjoyably, determinedly, faithfully committed to making something happen.  Very refreshing.  

   As I continue to do my nightly Bible readings, I discover Jacob cheating Esau out of his birthright and blessing, Laban cheating Jacob out of a wife and years of labor, Rachel stealing Laban's household gods, Joseph driving everyone crazy with his ego, his brothers selling him off to become a slave in Egypt, then Joseph getting back at them by framing them for theft.  Not exactly "Touched by an Angel."  Yet, in the midst of this human messiness, somehow God continues to be made known.  Each person's story is "fraught" with the possibility of grace, of forgiveness, of becoming, of love.  

   My life is a mess.  But it is a mess fraught with holy possibilities.

It's 2:30 a.m. - a few days into the new year.  I'm not sleeping, but it's not due to stress for a change.  This time, I think it's more a sense of wonder.  A comment from a reader leaves me wondering why I feel the way that I do, while at the same time filling me with gratitude that I do. I responded to him personally, but felt that others might have a similar reaction to these writings of mine, so I might as well address them in a more public way.  I think I have perhaps experienced something of what the commenter felt years ago when I attended some clergy workshop on caring for yourself, or beating stress, or finding your spiritual center, or something like that.  I remember leaving in an angry mood, certain that the person speaking knew nothing about my life, and clearly didn't have the issues and responsibilities that I had, or they would know that their path to wholeness and wellbeing was a luxury I couldn't afford.  Rather than giving me hope, I felt burdened by their belief that somehow I had it in me to create the space needed for this spiritual enhancement.  So, I went home feeling less cared for, more stressed, and further from my spiritual center.

The commenter wrote: "We look to our religious leaders for something more than theories, biblical regurgitations... and cosmic "If...Then" statements..."  I agree, which is why I decided to quit my job, give up our home, and live my hope in the here and now.  I've not been all that impressed with how the world is progressing, so I thought I'd actually try it Jesus' way for a while.  The commenter asked for details regarding the promised abundance.  I have to admit that Jesus is rather famously vague on details - I don't think he considered them important.  In fact, I don't think he considered them at all.  When one is seeking to live within the intimate presence of the Creator of the universe, the source of life and love, somehow the details lose their relevance.  There was no cost-benefit analysis in my decision to take this path.  I may end up in a more financially disastrous place than I already am, and my children may have to pay for their own college education (my older one already is working fulltime while attending school - and doing a damn fine job of it - we are enormously proud of her.)  Life could very definitely become much much harder than it is right now, but I am banking on the fact that growing closer to God and attuning my spirit more closely with the Spirit, will make my life much much more meaningful and joy-filled.  I am also trusting that God loves the rest of my family even more than I do and will continue to be present with them as well.

This is not to suggest that every person out there needs to leave their jobs, or family, or even their annuity funds (whatever those are) to become one with God.  (And, one final note to the commenter: losing one's job or wife or savings account through life circumstances is not the same as choosing to make changes for the betterment of the soul and service to God.  I don't believe that God yanks people or resources out of people's lives in order to get their attention.  Who wants mopey, resentful followers?)  This is just my story.  If it is helpful to anyone else - as we used to say in my youth group - Yippee Yippee Yahweh!  If not, I pray that you too will find a path, a story, a faith that makes sense to you and that compels you to explore.  Happy New Year. 

p.s. It's been a long time since I read the Bible for any reason other than sermon prep, so I'm using "The Daily Message: Through the Bible in One Year" by Eugene Peterson.  It's a paraphrase, not a strict translation, but nicely arranged, and has a pretty ribbon to mark my page.  It's the little things....