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."

Why I Love Nebraska

     I was born and raised on an entirely different planet called New Jersey.  It feels so foreign and distant to me now, as I've lived so long away from it.  But the last time I rode a train through central New Jersey in 2006,  I felt uncomfortable and alien, looking out the window for something to lay my eyes on.  But all I saw was buildings and crowded roads.  And  I had to actually look UP to see the sky.  What do people LOOK at here? I remember thinking.  I couldn't wait to get home:  to Nebraska. 

    When I met my future husband Larry at Drew University Theological School in Madison, New Jersey in 1990,  he was the resident cheerleader for the state of Nebraska.  Drew was located in Northern New Jersey, which was mostly upper class, close to New York City, and regarded itself as a very intellectual and cultured environment.  I'd say 99% of us there could not have pointed out the location of Nebraska on a map of the U.S.  Anything west of Ohio was considered foreign, essentially.  Our classmates generally regarded Larry's enthusiasm with condescending amusement;  not only trying to recruit him to stay in New Jersey, but making it clear that they believed that Nebraska was a place made up of just a bunch of sub-cultural hayseeds.  I just imagined endless empty prairies.  Something like the set of "Little House on the Prairie."  

   When I ended up falling and love with Larry with the full knowledge that he was returning to Nebraska that year,  I told him there was "no way" I could move to Nebraska.  Number one:  I didn't know where it was.  Number two:  I couldn't leave New Jersey.  It was home.  Well, the only home I knew. 

     I flew out west to check out St. Paul School of Theology in another foreign country called Kansas City, Missouri, because I wanted to study with Gene Lowry, a preaching professor there.  I spent the weekend staying with parishioners of Larry's church in Osmond, Nebraska.  It is true that after Larry picked me up at the KC airport and drove us north,  I literally started to hyperventilate as the land and sky opened up before us.  We had to pull over and let me breathe into a bag.  But it got better. 

    My first experience of Nebraska was the small town of Osmond, in Northeast NE.  I fell in love with the community.  They welcomed me so warmly, supported us in our new relationship, and related to me as if they'd known me for years.  People were so down-to-earth and real.  They were kind and loving.  Everybody was related!   We visited Larry's tinier church at Stark Valley, and a few old men wore cowboy boots and hats and called me "ma'am."  I half expected to see Michael Landon.

    We moved back east for six years after awhile, and then decided that the only place we wanted to be was Nebraska.  I was so relieved to get back here after my stint back east.  No, Nebraska is not perfect.  There are all kinds of people here, good and "bad", just as there are anywhere else.  But I feel like I can breathe here.  Literally and figuratively.  Yes, the air is much cleaner and fresher (even in Gibbon!).   When I drive to work or in between visits, my eyes have much to look at and take in to feed my spirit.  I love to look out over the Sandhills, see the horses and the cattle, the cowboys rounding them up.  I love the pheasants, the hawks and the occasional eagle.  I love the small towns with miles in between them where everybody knows everybody (for better or for worse) and is related to half of them.  I love that when someone gets cancer and doesn't have health insurance,  the whole town puts on benefits to raise money for them.  The small-town weekly newspapers record who visited whom from out of state.  Local churches or Legion halls have spaghetti "feeds" or soup suppers, roast beef dinners and fish frys.   During Lent, Catholics host Protestants for fish dinners on Friday.  People in jeans or their Sunday best show up for funerals for people they're not even related to because it's what you do.  You don't have to dress up here if you don't want to. 

    I'm not a big football fan, but since Nebraska doesn't have a professional football team in the state,  the entire state rallies around the University of Nebraska Football team, the Huskers.   Toddlers and residents of the nursing homes all wear red on Game Day.  Employees get to wear their Husker T-shirts to work, even on Friday.  You go to Walmart or the mall and the game is playing on the loud speakers so you don't miss it.  It is assumed that everyone wants to keep up with the game!   When I first moved here,  a parishioner asked me on Sunday,  "did you watch the game?" 
      I replied,  "What game?" 
      You would have thought that I'd suggested that Jesus wasn't the Son of God. 
      Many of the nursing homes get Pay-Per-View if necessary on Game Day.  It's THAT important. 

    Many people here say,  "There's no place like Nebraska."  And it's true.  It's hard to explain, and not everybody would get it.   When Sarah was 10 years old back in Pennsylvania, she said one day,  "If I could live anywhere in the world,  I'd live in Nebraska."  That was before we knew that we were moving back a year later. 

    But I would say the same thing.  It is now my adopted home.  It fits me.  It fits my nature.  I can find peace here.  I can breathe here, and live life at a manageable pace.  I can walk the streets of my little town at night without fear, and  I can stretch my eyes when I get out of my town.  My soul is nourishd throughout the day on the awesome sight of the endless prairie and its inhabitants.   Occasionally my family and I will drive 60 miles away to the small town of Sumner to eat at Tub's Pub where they have the best prime rib. 

      People who knew me in my previous lives have often asked me,  "why Nebraska?"  And I just smile.  I can't explain it.  It's just my land of grace.  And that's why I love it.

Cat

(From the Sunday Scribblings prompt:  "easy")

standing majestic
as if posing for a
royal photo
he stares out the window

focused on a bird
a squirrel
totally focused
unwavering

he sleeps
spread out
all muscles relaxed
limp

or curled up
contained
paws under his chin
tail wrapped around
the length of his body

awakened
he stretches
in yoga-like fashion
gently reaching

he yawns
taking in all the air
he needs
his coarse tongue exposed

I watch him
chase a ping-pong ball
here
there
and back again

in total delight 

a woman comes to
the window
and strikes a pose
staring back at him

through the glass

and he is mesmerized
tail twitching
a mournful cry
sometimes coming from deep within him

he climbs up on my lap
massages the area
for awhile
making it meet his standards

he lays down
purring in tranquil ecstasy
looking up at me sleepily
inviting me into his peace

when I cry
becase life can be hard
he comes to me
puts his paws on my knee

and leans his purring
body inward toward me
if I lie down
he will massage the space next to me

curl up tight against me
and allow his warmth
to soothe
my sadness

I envy him
sometimes
while yet grateful
for him

life to him
seems so peaceful
so

easy. 

Woman

I am Woman
I'm not "Gal" or "Girl"
I'm not a child
to be talked down to

You joke about "politically correct"
and in that way
you can dismiss responsibility
to be sensitive, mature or kind

You may say I'm one of "those women"
as if wanting to be taken seriously
or even seen as human
is a joke or some phase I'm going through

I am Woman
God made me at the same time
that God made Man
and God made us both in God's likeness

God gave me the power to give birth,
to nurture life with my own body
to be tender and strong at the same time

God gave me anger
to protect myself and my child
but God gave me a womb
to remind me that I have the power to create

I go through physical cycles of change
regularly
maybe that makes me more adaptable
to ebbs and flows

You dismiss me as being "hormonal"
when I am creating and letting go
ocean waves crashing in my body
parts of me working together to build a life
or dismiss the possibility for now

Bishops 1800 years ago
said I didn't have a soul
that was an official church opinion
and I have paid

They also said that I am responsible
for all the sin of the world
and for all these centuries
I am blamed

Blamed for men's sexual temptations
blamed for Jesus' torturous death
blamed for all the evil in the world
Blamed 

Shamed

You say I'm angry
You bet
wouldn't you be? 
If you were accused wrongly
with no advocates to defend?

I am Woman
I have grown and developed
in wisdom and beauty
despite doors slammed in my face

despite cries of
"whore!"  "witch!" 
"bitch!" 
despite being dismissed

by sisters who decided
that it's better to play along
than to give up their position
than to be shown the door

I have sat and listened
to your stories of God
that God is only male
and only interested in men
to work for "him" 

I've been blamed for people's deaths
as punishment from God
for letting me speak in church

I've had women tell me
I have no right
to speak on behalf of God
just because I have a uterus

I listened to the stories
that told me
that women are either
whores or virgins

nothing in-between

that God hates sex
and therefore God hates me
because I, Woman, have caused
good men to sin

I've listened to litany after litany
confessing my unworthiness
to even approach God
for I am shameful

I am Woman
I am a Mother
and I would never want my children
to cower in my presence

I would never beat them
or kill them
or make them suffer
for offending or disappointing me

I am Woman
I was made in love
and I create in love

I make mistakes
but I am not my mistakes

I embody love
I embody creativity
and life and compassion

I am whole
I am fully human
I, indeed, have a soul
and a heart that can break

My power is in my love
in my ability to create
and re-build
and I am a force for healing

and I will help heal the world

you may dismiss me
you may call me names to make me
more manageable
to reduce me

but God loves me

God made me 
whole
equal
powerful
beautiful
full of light

my arms can embrace
heal
empower
and shelter

I am Woman
and I am Here

backwards and forwards

my father used to say

"sometimes you have to go backwards

in order to move forward"

and sometimes that's true

but sometimes i've gotten stuck

in the backwards

stuck in the tangled webs

roots

and unseen hazards that dwell there

i have to look backwards

sometimes

to get my bearings

but then

a forward step

a swish and a turn

a sidestep

no hurry

because there's no end

to where we're going

no hurry

i savor what isee

smell, touch, taste

give thanks

take a step

and that step moves me

sometimes a little bit ahead

sometimes a slight curve back

in case there's something

that was forgotten

this is not a race

there are no losers

sometimes i just close my eyes

and let the current carry me

when i don't have the stuff

to carry myself

the current will not forsake us

i hate to say that my father

was right

that there are treasures

in the past

that help guide the future

but the past is only a place to visit

it is no longer a good place to dwell

and so i've learned

to move more gracefully

less urgently

less anxious about who will

arrive ahead of me 

all i want is a hand to hold

as i dream

and dance

and love 

and seek

and wonder

there is no end

there is just beginnings

and so

i just take

another step