Getting a Life

     Jesus said that you can't put new wine into old wineskins because the new wine would stretch the old wineskins too much and they would burst, and the wine would be wasted.  I have wrestled with that parable for many years, and it always "dogged" me, as if there was an important lesson for me to learn.  I never preached on it.

    It's been two years since I left the Church and began my job at Aseracare Hospice.  It's been a wild two years!  Fortunately I was unaware of the journey ahead of me when I made the decision to hand in my ordination.  Though it's been a tough one, downright tumultuous at times,  I know I needed to go through everything I have as there were many profound lessons for me to learn.  I'm sure the learning will never end!

   I've literally had to Get a Life.  Often I have felt like someone who just crash-landed from another galaxy altogether and now have to learn how to speak, relate, live among earthlings.  The Church literally consumed my life.  The Church was my life.  My entire life.  I lived, breathed, ate, spoke, thought... Church since the womb.  And the church for a pastor and their family is the universe in which they live.  They have their own language, their own rules and the pastor is in that role 24/7.  He/she never gets to be just a human being.   It is nearly impossible to have friends when you are a pastor.  It's an unspoken rule that it's not recommended.  Parishioners will get jealous if you're friends with other parishioners.  If your friends are pastors, well, there's always the competition dynamic and the dreadful reality that one day your friend could be your boss.  Pastors in general do not have deep, real, honest, intimate friendships.  It conflicts with The Role.

    I did not realize fully, until I've been out for awhile, the extent of loneliness, isolation and lack of basic human relational skills the job nurtures.  There have been many moments in these last two years where I've wanted to scream,  "I don't know the rules out here!"  Meaning in the vast, diverse world outside the Church.  Now I know why so many pastors are afraid to retire, and why so many take another church long into retirement.  They don't what else to do.  In the pastorate,  you have no time or energy for such basic human things such as hobbies.  I've known many pastors who suffer deep depression after retirement if they don't continue pastoring.  They are no longer needed.  They're no longer the center of attention.  They are isolated.  Especially since pastors are also encouraged strongly by DSs not to retire in any of the communities in which they pastored.  Which means they end up settling into places where no one knows them and they have few resources as to how to meet people.
I know of only one pastor friend who retired well.  He took up a lot of new hobbies in retirement, taught himself how to build furniture and enjoyed his freedom!  He is an anomaly.

    And so, I've struggled too.  At the age of 46, I'm still learning a lot about how to make friends!  How to relate honestly and intimately with friends.  Growing up in the parsonage and then continuing my life in the parsonage, you learn also to hedge the truth about what you think and feel.  You get to be a good politician.  I've had to learn how to be more truthful since leaving the church.  That disturbed me!

   But all in all,  I had to leave the Church, because the Spirit was and is doing all kinds of new things in me,  and I no longer fit the church.  I was bustin' out all over, and it was finally killing me.  I couldn't continue to grow and learn and trust and ultimately be at peace if I stayed in the Church.  What a relief and joy to make friends and relate to them honestly and trust them to love me even if we disagree!  What a relief to be myself  without wondering when I'm going to hear the next complaint.  I kept trying, for many, many years, to cram myself into all the little boxes that the Church assembles for pastors, and it was suffocating.   No one is meant to live in isolation.  No one is meant to have their entire identity wrapped up in their job.  No one is meant to take all levels of cruelty and meanness all in the name of Christian "love."   Even Jesus couldn't handle more than three years of ministry on this planet!

    God is so much bigger than the Church.  There is so much profound truth outside the Church walls, many precious souls that radiate with the Divine Light of God.   God wants to radically change the world with Love, but God can't do that as long as we spend all our time bickering about who's right and who's wrong and who's in and who's out.  Does a mother abandon her children when they reject her gifts?  Does a mother subject her children to cruel and violent punishment when they disobey?  Of course not.

     It's scary to think for myself.  It was easier to just find out what the party-line was thinking, and just think it.  But getting out of the Church, I also got out of my head.  I was completely in my head all those years, because the Church is really afraid of the body and all of it's mystery.  All those feelings and emotions that are so darn messy.  But I'm trying to live more from the heart, from the grounding of Love, and it's so much more rewarding.  Scare as hell, but Life-giving.

     My wineskins burst two years ago, and I will probably always bear the scars.  But I'm told that healed scars are stronger than the original skin.   I don't regret any of it.  The Church gave me a place from which to launch, like my parent's house.  But I couldn't stay in my parents' house and truly grow and become who I'm meant to be.  Now,  I am truly living on faith.....

     And so it is.

My Backyard

my backyard
stretched large
front to back

a carpet of green
the stage
of my imagination

I was Jane
to Tarzan
swung on the rope swing
that hung from the maple tree
topless
in my underwear
I was Queen
of the jungle

my Barbie dolls
took epic journeys
across the vast lush prairies
on horseback
meeting danger
emerging heroines

the old pine tree
sheltered a bed
of needles
where I built roads
for the Country Camper
and convertible

we set up a tent
and put on plays
my brothers and parents
the audience
forking over bags of pennies
for entertainment

as we got older
we transformed the old tool shed
into a clubhouse
wallpapered with posters
carpeted with samples
from downtown

sanctuary
in the city
distant from the
busy highway
that ran in front of the house

a place to read 
make up stories
of danger and triumph
a little romance

a place to pretend
and dream

a place of our own
in my backyard

then there was
The Day
they broke in
turned everything upside down
spray-painted
destroyed
desecrated

my first encounter
with horror
random acts
of pain

was in my backyard

also
when
I started
to grow up

Here

From the Sunday Scribbling's writing prompt:  You Are Here

"I BELIEVE I HAVE INSIDE OF ME
EVERYTHING THAT I NEED TO LIVE A BOUNTIFUL LIFE.
WITH ALL THE LOVE ALIVE IN ME
I'LL STAND AS TALL AS THE TALLEST TREE.
AND I'M
THANKFUL FOR EVERYDAY THAT I'M GIVEN,
BOTH THE EASY AND HARD ONES I'M LIVIN'.
BUT MOST OF ALL
I'M THANKFUL FOR
LOVING WHO I REALLY AM.
I'M BEAUTIFUL.
YES, I'M BEAUTIFUL,
AND I'M HERE..." 

From "The Color Purple" musical

I used to think

that my life was a map

that was all laid out

before I was born

the biography already written

the plot already thickened

and I had to find the key

the solution

the answer

to star in the story

that was already finished

but

then I grew up

I looked outside of myself

for the clues

sought answers in other people's

eyes

struggled for worth

struggled to be seen, acknowleged

recognized 

so I could get somewhere

be somebody

lovable

it was only when I walked away

from everything I knew

pushed the "stop" button

on a narrative

that kept demanding blood

it was only when I

was in the middle of the wilderness

with no map

no clue

experiencing death

my worst fear

it was then

that I realized

that I have survived

I have grown tougher

more tender

I have walked over mountains

staunched the bleeding

of seemingly fatal blows 

I have sung into the darkness

with a trembling voice

dared to love

in the face of death

it was then

that I realized 

that I am me

I am worthy

I am beautiful

I am loved

I am strong

and

I

am

HERE.

    

      

The Call



From the Sunday Scribblings' writing prompt:  The Call

     "I hear the call to Something More... I hear the call to be something I've never been before..." Karen Drucker.

     In 1989 I had a different concept of Call.  I believed that I was called to the ministry, and I was.  Specifically, the pastoral ministry.  At a Lay Witness Mission, after I shared,  a woman pastor affirmed my story and embraced me, looked me in the eye and said,  "You... are called to preach!" 

     I believed that a person had a call, one specific thing they were born to do.  One thing that made sense out of everything else in their lives.  What a relief to find mine!  I was called to be a preacher! 

     But I no longer believe that a person is called to do just one thing with their lives, nor do I believe that a call is just something related to a job.  What I didn't know during those 20 years of following that call, was that I was more than a preacher, more than a pastor.  It consumed my whole life, 24/7.  I was always a pastor.  If I learned new things that were outside the bounds of being a pastor, I had to keep it to myself.  I had to conform constantly to what the United Methodist Church said what a pastor should be, how they do what they do, what they should think, and how they should function.  Having grown up a pastor's kid, I was used to the life of a pastor's family.  You had to keep your true self under wraps much of the time.  You weren't supposed to have opinions that were outside the lines, the boundaries of what was acceptable.  You weren't even supposed to be a person. 

    Two years ago, I handed in my ordination papers.  It was hard to say, "I'm not called to be a pastor anymore,"  because the thought was that once called, always called.  But being a pastor was killing me slowly.  In the last two years, I've had to think about Truth.  What is truth?  I was used to hedging the truth, not telling the full truth, keeping the truth of what I thought or felt under wraps in order to follow the call of being a pastor.  I'm called to Something More now. 

    I'm called to be a whole human being;  healthy, whole, honest, free, more accessible, more at peace.  That's more of a vague call:  how do I do this?  A specific call, a narrow call like that of going into the ministry,  was simpler.  Go to seminary.  Call the D.S.  Tell your call story over and over.  Color within the prescribed lines.  Adapt. Adapt. Adapt.  Conform. 

    I believe we are put on this earth to love and offer the grace of God.  It's a tough world.  Everyone struggles.  Everyone needs a little grace.  When I love someone, I have to tell them.  When I see beauty in someone, I know they need to hear it.  I am called to hold up a mirror to people's faces and allow them to see the beauty in themselves,  as so many others have done and do for me.  My day job is to be a Spiritual Caregiver to hospice patients.  Through that job, I hope to help others face death with peace, and to feel that they're not alone.  I hope to convey that God's arms are already around them as they make this journey.  I try to be present with each person, one at a time, so that they know that someone sees them and wants to listen to their story.  That they are more than this disease.  I try to honor them and hear them.

    But I am more than what I do for a living.  I am called to be a person of Light, joy, peace, grace.  I am called to learn all I can, to be richer, fuller, deeper, full of spirit.  I am called to bring color to this world, and peace to chaotic corners.  I am called, most of all, in everything I do and am, to Love.  I am called to be who God created me to be, and not conform to someone else's being.  There is only one me, who can love and give and create exactly the way I do, so I better be ME.  No one else can do that but me. 

   It's all about Love.  What do I have to lose?  Chris Rice sings,  "That's What a Heart Is Beating For,"  and that's what I believe.  Why else are we alive?  I can love so much more fully outside of the church, I've found.  Because in the Church, there were set rules and set ROLES.  I had to get out of the ROLE in order to be fully me, and to love more fully.  To be.... more fully. 

    I will not be done doing new things until.... I'm done.  Breathing.  Living on this earth.  And then who knows?  Eternity is beyond what I can fathom, but I suspect that it will be an eternity of new things all the time.  Very cool. 

    

Present

From the Sunday Scribbling's writing prompt:  Present

      At any given moment, it seems the past and future seems to swirling around me.  Especially as I listen to music.  I hear a song on The Bridge on Sirius Radio and I am transported back to a moment in the past.  I can remember what I was doing, what I was feeling.  "What's Love Got To Do With It?" by Tina Turner plays and I'm back working at Dunkin' Donuts the summer of '85.  I can smell the donuts, feel the sticky counters, taste the coffee.  I was "in love" with Dan, I thought we we were going to get married someday, but he turned out to be afraid of pretty much everything.  He was an old man in a young man's body. 

    My daughter is going through her senior year of high school and from day 1 I've been reliving my own senior year.  I started it getting mono, and missing the first two weeks of school.  I did, however, go into the school basement one day long enough to wear that God-awful black drape and get my senior pictures taken.  My eyes look a little droopy in the picture!  Other than that, it was a pretty uneventful year.  I'd been accepted to Messiah College and had plans to attend there, and remembering that gives me some regrets.  It was a painful experience, and I wish sometimes I could go back and tell that poor tired girl in the black drape;  'don't do it! Keep looking!  Don't be afraid! But for your own sake, don't go to Messiah!'  Ah, but who knows what other experiences I would have lived through somewhere else and now regretted? 

    And then there's Facebook.  Wow, talk about the past coming back and parading around in front of you like a drunk ex-boyfriend at your wedding!  Whew.  I've reconnected with friends from high school,  summer camp from those years, from past churches, and past work experiences.  Notice I didn't say Messiah College.  I chose not to revisit that!  Most of it has been good, but it is disconcerting to see pictures of people whom I still remember as teenagers who are instead somebody's grandparent!  I've reconnected with old boyfriends, too, but we don't mention our relationships of the past, we just talk about our lives in the past 30 years and make comments about nice, light stuff.  My husband isn't threatened by this, since we have a great relationship and the pictures don't make him feel the least bit inadequate.  We're all aging, after all....some better than others. 

      But all of this reminds me that though the past swirls around me like annoying flies sometimes, and the future taunts me, daring me to worry about what will happen if...?  I realize that all I have is right now.  This moment.  Right now I'm typing on my blog, my family is watching TV in the other room.  It's Saturday, a day to relax, to be a little selfish with my time.  The weather outside is gorgeous, and I look forward to going back out there when I'm done.  My kitten is sleeping on my printer, basking in the sunlight.  Life is good.   I have everything I need and want.  My daughter has turned out to be a really special human being, defying all the worries I carried about her while I was pregnant.  I have a loving, kind, sensitive and fun husband who is my best friend.  I only love him more than I did 20 years ago.  I live in my own house for the first time in my life.  I have a good job, and a boss who cares about me, who is a friend.  I have special girlfriends who understand me and provide a safe place for me to be;  whether I'm happy or venting or crying over a hurt.  Right now is good.  This moment is precious. 

    I realize that much of my suffering usually is over a hurt from the past, or worry about Larry or Sarah or myself in the future.  The past is over.  It is what it is.  I can't change any of it.  When I catch myself regretting some past bad decision,  I remind myself that right now I love my life.  However I got here doesn't matter because the wonderful gift is I am here, life is good, and there's nothing I would change.  Much of my suffering occurs over things that I have no control over;  someone else who annoys me,  other people's decisions or behavior, the state of the world,  what other people "might" think of me, etc.  So I try to not worry or suffer over those things I can't change because I'm only punishing myself and wasting right now.  Now is all I have for sure.  I only hurt myself to stew over things that aren't even real or things that may never change. 

     So my gift to myself each day is to stay focused on now.  On the present.  To savor the hug of a dear friend.  To take in the beautiful smile of a precious person.  To be fully aware of my daughter's and husband's love.  To breathe the fresh air of Nebraska and take in its beauty all around me.  To bury my face in my kitten's fur and let his purr soothe my spirit.  To create.  To give.  To experience.  To listen.  To LOVE. 

     Right now... is a gift.  A present to myself.  A reason to simply say to the heavens,  "thank you."