The Most Meaningful Gift of the Year

Last night I dreamed that my friend decided that she and another friend and I were going to experience homelessness. For a defined period of time we would live on the streets. We each had a backpack with some personal items. I had a small amount of money because I had work responsibilities that overlapped the first few days of our time and I needed to be able to meet with people over coffee or lunch. (This is not part of my real-life job, but somehow it was in my dream.)

So on our appointed day, we left our homes and went out into the streets. A couple days later I had two meetings for work, one in an outdoor cafe and one in a fancy restaurant nearby. The people I was meeting knew and respected that I was engaging in this homeless experience, so I knew that my condition would not affect their impression of me. I felt grimy and exhausted. I was hungry and thirsty and most of all lonely. I looked awful.

As I sat in the cafe, eating food that I had paid for, waiting for my companions, a man started loudly asking those around him what I was doing there. Why was I allowed to sit there while others around me were trying to enjoy their repast? Was anyone going to eject me from the area and send me where I belong?

That is when I realized what the hardest part of being homeless was for me. It wasn't hunger or cold. It wasn't being filthy. It wasn't even having this loud man look down on me and wish me gone. The most difficult aspect for me was invisibility. No one looked me in the eyes. No one engaged me in conversation. No one, except those offended by my presence, even acknowledged my existence. I was subhuman.

I never made it to the fancy restaurant. It wasn't worth another humiliation.

I don't need Joseph to interpret this dream. For many, this most wonderful time of the year is the loneliest time of the year. As we are out running our errands and greeting our friends in this busy holiday season, let's acknowledge the humanity of those we see. It might be the most meaningful gift we give.

I have not blogged for almost two months because life has been intense, mostly in wonderful ways but still intense. I have journaled volumes, but haven't written publicly. Thanks, Helen, for reminding me to post.

I am traveling for the Thanksgiving weekend. It's nearing the end of the semester, so I have brought a lot of material to read and an intention to write. On the airplane, squeezed between window and surrounding passengers, I extracted a sheaf of articles and book excerpts and began to read, highlighter and pen in one hand. This week we are reading reconciling reconstructions in soteriology (theology of redemption and reconciliation).

One of the many blessings of seminary is copious opportunity for transformational experiences. Whether we ask for them or not, desire them or avoid them, pray for them or beg for a peaceful interlude without them, these opportunities arise and insist that we pay attention.

When I dove into my stack of reading while packed into an airplane on Wednesday, I really expected to get some homework done. I expected to check off another couple boxes on my Google task list. I really did not expect enter a book excerpt with one understanding of the world and how I fit into it and turn the last page with a radically different understanding.

Ahh...transformation. Once I sought you. Now I believe you are stalking me.

One little book chapter, forty-two pages, of Parker and Nakashima Brock's book, Proverbs of Ashes : Violence, Redemptive Suffering, and the Search for What Saves Us, and how I think about how fit in the world is totally changed.

I see transformation as a blessing. I am growing into my full authentic self as I accept and even sometimes nurture personal transformation. But it isn't easy. As joyous and wonderful as it is, change is hard. I don't recommend it at 37,000 feet in a crowded plane full of holiday travelers.

Or maybe that's the perfect place for that experience.

Questions

Questions... It seems to me that I am always wrestling with questions, trying to squeeze finite answers out of infinite questions. What should I be when I grow up? Does God exist? Why are Brussels sprouts good for me and ice cream is not?

As I have spent time in seminary engaging questions and finding more questions, I am beginning to wonder. Am I asking the wrong questions? This of course leads to the obvious - What are the *right* questions? Which of course if it has any answer at all will have answers in the form of questions.

So I go on, finding new questions. Who will I be when I grow up? What does it mean to have a relationship with God? How can I expand my understanding of the world? What other questions do I need to ask?

Boredom

You've heard those words, "I'm bored!" You have said them yourself. I've said them myself. Now I don't know about you, but there is no reason on earth for me to be bored. I am a mom, so my work is never done. I am also a student, so there is virtually always something to read or something to write. (I have a 12-15 page paper to write right now, and school doesn't even start until September...) And because that isn't enough, I also have a job, so there is probably an event to plan or a volunteer to support or a lesson to review. So how can I be bored?

When I am bored, it signifies one of two things. I'm avoiding doing something that "needs" doing or I am struggling with solitude. The first thing has been covered in other blog entries and will be covered in future blog entries because it is closely related to my worst habit that I am willing to publish on the World Wide Web - procrastination. No need to cover it here. So that leaves the second reason I am bored, my ongoing struggle with solitude.

According to Dr. Seuss, "Alone will be something you’ll be quite a lot." This assurance does nothing to help me gain understanding that solitude does not have to be lonely. Time alone could be used to get to know myself and my Creator, something I have neglected over the past several decades. As I'm beginning to do this, I find that God and I are both good company. As I have found those quiet places in my life, those "boring" places, I have begun to develop a bit more faith and a fragile self-respect. I know that this will carry me far as I walk, skip, and sometimes stumble along this twisting path.

For Those of Us Who Believe in That Kind of Thing

This morning we read in church, "Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen" (Hebrews 11:1). Faith is a topic about which I have experienced some doubt recently. Okay, honestly, a lot of doubt. Mountains of doubt. In fact, I spent some time in my pastor's office just this week with my head in my hands, unwilling to look him in the eyes, asking, "What if there is no God? What if I am working my tail off (actually I think I used an earthier term) to serve someone or something who doesn't exist?" By odd coincidence or the work of the Holy Spirit, for those of us who believe in that kind of thing, or the work of whatever committee devised the Revised Common Lectionary, faith was present in all of this week's readings, the worship service, and the sermon. Which means that faith was probably already on the pastor's mind when I expressed my doubts. Which explains why his response then and the worship service today are meaningful to me.

So does this mean my questions are answered? My doubts vanquished? Pardon the loud guffaws. Doubt and questioning seem to be indelibly inscribed in my character. If you wish to say a prayer, for those of us who believe in that kind of thing, for my doubting, questioning ways, feel free. Perhaps say one for my pastor too, that he may persevere in the torrent of my continuing doubts. And maybe one for my theology professor in the fall too, who may perhaps relieve my pastor of some of these questions.

I value the presence of people in my life whose faith seems unshakable. At the same time I thank God, for those of us who believe in that kind of thing, that I belong to a church that allows, even embraces, questions and doubts and differing beliefs. And, if you are reading this, thanks, Pastor Kevin, for having faith in me when I lack faith and questioning my questions and challenging me to grow.

Life-Changing Experiences

I'm in Israel participating in an archaeological excavation and cultural immersion. We spend the weekdays doing archaeological workand attending lectures and the weekends traveling (see akkoarchaeology.blogspot.com for more details). I signed on to this adventure knowing that it would be life-changing experience, but I could not have imagined how life-changing it would be. I am standing at one of those forks in the path, wondering which way to go. I realize now that recent life-changing decisions were absolutely, positively, the most positive decisions I could make. Now I have confidence to make the next set of life-changing decisions. The conditions in which I am living, hard labor, dirt, spare (but comfortable) accommodations, are causing me to change my expectations of myself, others and my environment. Big changes are happening, and all I can do is play along and be joyful.

The right path

Do you ever wonder if you are on the "right" path? This is where I seem to spend a lot of my life. Wondering. Am I on the right path? Am I doing the right thing? Am I making the right decision? Am I buying the right car/washing machine/dining room table/brand of pasta? I wonder, is this a good use of my time? Am I even asking the right questions? Perhaps new questions are in order. Questions that have answers... Am I acting with integrity? Am I having a positive impact on the world around me? What is my constant doubt-filled questioning keeping me from doing?

There is a place in life for wondering and doubting, but raising it to an art form fuels my other worst habit (or at least the other worst habit I'm going to share with the world wide web), procrastination.

One week from tomorrow, just eight days from now, I am heading for Israel for a cultural immersion course. I will be participating in an archaeological dig at Tel Akko on the northern coast and attending lectures and sightseeing. In order to perfect my procrastination techniques, I am spending my time writing about going instead of preparing to go.

The Twisting Path

Let's go back a year. No, two years is better. Two years ago I was in the midst of figuring out what to do with my time as my children begin to leave the nest. I was thinking a little ahead, but after not working outside the home for 15 years, I knew I would need some education before I could reenter my former career or begin a new vocation. This little voice, still and small, kept invading my thoughts. "Go into ministry," it said. "Go to seminary." My inner engineer (my BC career) had a good laugh. The logical reasons for going to seminary were lacking. The reasoning part of my brain could not wrap herself around going to an expensive private school fairly far from home to study material far outside her education. The still, small voice and the reasoning voice debated for a long time. Last September I began my seminary education.

My life's path has been characterized by twists and turns, switchbacks and dead ends, obstacles and forks in the road.

This blog is about my experience on the twisting path.