Top Ten Relaxing Tools? (I am sure I have ten)

Today I was talking with my mama on the phone. She asked me what I would be doing the rest of the day and remarked that it sounded like I had had a very busy day, to be a Monday, and she hoped that I would relax this evening. I told her that I was excited for a friend to come over and we were heading to a dinner with some church folk… my mama laughed and said, "I want to hear you say that you are going to the movies and dinner with someone who is completely not related to church, at all, I want you to relax." I laughed and told her that she knew I have always been busy and that this would be relaxing (in my defense, it was!)

Now all of this would just roll of my shoulders if another workmate/friend had not told me just about the same thing in less words this afternoon as she told me, "you need an outlet away from these people."

So as much as I do not want to think about that and do not want to force myself into more new things, more new people, more new spaces (give me a break, I am JUST NOW getting dinner invites from church folk who are friends and not just feeling guilty that I am the new girl and therefore inviting me over, it has been about five months here people, this moving is a process beyond the boxes being opened and taken out) I am creating this top ten list of ways that I do relax and/or want to improve on to help with that very goal:

1- Painting - I love it. Always have. I like to create and it is an outlet that I will not let go of anytime soon.

2- Outside walks with the pups - me, my boys and nature is a good thing, I want to start soaking in our walks more than rushing them to get them over.

3- Reading- what I want, without a paper to write, score!

4- Letters to friends and family back home - this is a lost art and is actually something I have grown to enjoy doing, especially notes to folks back at the aging care facility I worked at during seminary.

5- Friend phone dates- I NEED TO GET BETTER AT THIS. We are all so busy and time differences but this is important. I want to get better at this.

6- Runs - Yes, laugh all you want, I really am running and enjoying it

7- Just being- sitting, lounging, just being and not worrying about my to do list or my house or laundry. This is hard. I like to be busy so being is hard. But its cool when I slow down enough to hear my heart beat.

8- Intentional time with friends that is not work related - IE: donut runs, random drives, movies, ect. - I have a few of these things that are weekly staples but need to be better about letting myself do these things without feeling guilty.

9-10 - I am not sure yet, I am struggling with creating these. I do love time that I am volunteering at a hospital and nursing home. SO MUCH. But my friends and family say that does not count. I think it does, it does my soul good. SO I count those.



I am good at relaxing in my own ways- perhaps not how all might- but as a high energy person sometimes my relaxing becomes working or wanting to improve things or creating a task and that is what I need to work on. Just being is a beautiful thing that is hard for me. So maybe this week I will try to sit and just be at least for a few minutes. Maybe we all should- because when we hear our hearts beating it is a reminder of just how cool our creator is.

Affirmation Pains.

The ordination process has (unfortunately) become one that I dread talking about, having meetings over and honestly struggle to even pray about (perhaps it is because I am not ready to listen to God about this one fully). It is not that I do not have a wonderful mentor that was assigned to walk through the process, it is not that I have not gained other mentors along the way, and surprisingly enough it is not that my sass has come out and hurt me along the way. I am not exactly sure when or how but the process became something I dreaded talking about just about the time that a part of my calling was dismissed- the part that led me to a particular learning community. Having a part of my story dismissed hurt and I struggled to listen much after that- I struggled to find much affirmation after that. 

Granted, I am not so naive as to think that there has not been more affirmation that I have missed along the way. (What a shame - we always, at least I always, seem to miss the beauty/affirmation/love of God when I am caught up in my own feelings)

Today I feel that a great, and scary, stride was made in this very process. After moving to a new home and a new conference the ordination question/process has become something that has needed to be part of my vocabulary again. The hoops I have jumped before will come with me here, hopefully, but it is necessary to pick up and meet new folks and begin new conversation here. I was hesitant as I entered the office of the district super. to talk about this very process. All of the past dismissals came rushing to my head and I was almost shaking as I entered the room. 

It was no longer than five minutes in the conversation that the two lovely faces of God that were talking with me said something along the lines of 'we want this to be affirming for you' and 'you are valued here' that my heart slowed down and my eyes became glassy with those happy-not-expecting-this-tears.  They asked me my story and listened, to it all, they held my hand and prayed for my calling, they reminded me that I am called and that this can be scary and hard but there are people who care and will walk with me on this discernment process. 

I did not leave the meeting with all of my questions answered, in fact I may have some more and new questions now, but I left with a trail of happy tears down my cheek. It does not matter who stamped my degree, it does not matter if I flip flop on what I feel called to do, it does not matter if I have questions for days-- what matters, they reminded me, is slowing down enough to listen to God's call and trusting in a community that will love me along the process of ordination if I only let them. 

I did not expect to feel more overwhelmed by the good feelings than I have felt by the negative but tonight I am. It is not a bad overwhelming but a good, growing affirmation pain. I think I may have to get used to these new pains because around here it seems like something that is not going to end- even criticism is affirming and loving. I guess I really am in the hospitality state now. 

I do not know what will happen, when I will be ordained, who will present me for commissioning before that or where I will be working and living then but I know, without a doubt, that these people will be there in spirit, in prayer and in sign of love. And that is a good affirmation pain that I think I will gladly learn to accept. 

I did not know that still hurt.

Monday evenings have become a late night donut run tradition with one of newest bestest buds. We pile in the car (tonight my dogs included) and travel down the road, soaking in the nighttime sky, catching up about our days and laughing at the latest joke we have heard.

This evening as we traveled down the road we talked through our days, per usual, we shared sighs and laughs and then began to talk about a television show (old but good) that has captivated us both as of late. What show matters not- it matters that I was informed by my friend that one of the main characters was going to die in the next season (Thanks Netflix for allowing us the joy/mental disservice perhaps of  binge watching our favorite shows at least one night a week) from breast cancer. No. I told her no. I objected- there was no way, she could not die because she was important and if she died it would be sad and the show would be messed up and the lives of those who loved her in the show would be messed up. It was not feasible for her to die.

Soon we were going through the Krispy Kreme line (something I should reflect more on- I think we keep them in business at lease once a week, whoops, but tonight I will blame the trip on my need for clean water as there was a water main break in my neighborhood today and my water is not suitable to drink yet) I decided that I needed to just youtube the clip.

 I needed to see if she was going to die, I needed to have an answer. Granted googling this clip means I missed part of the season before but I did not care. I needed to know.

Sure enough- she died. Her partner left the room and went on a walk and she died. She said she loved her before leaving the room and then came back to her loved one lifeless on the bed, the doctor reciting a line of , "we did all we could do." I know what you are thinking- this is just a television show. You are right. That is about the only thing that kept me from falling into a puddle on the floor of my friend's car (that and my donut).

But the show, that scene, propelled me back into the intense room of a woman who lied lifeless on the bed as her family gathered in the ICU waiting room just down the hall. I was the chaplain on call and was paged to this scene and had no idea how I might answer or help in this situation. She had been fine that morning and after a quick diagnosis of a brain bleed it turned out she had a blockage and the wrong medicine led to bleeding and brain damage that was not reparable: in a matter of 12 hours she went from fine to pronounced brain dead. Dead.

I walked into this story at the will of the family: they paged me, they thought I could help. I walked in, shaking on the inside and no-doubt looking like a dear in head lights on the outside, into this sacred space. I met the family and prayed and did all I could do, all they seemed to need: I made connections to doctors, I helped with sorting out information about organ donation, I brought tissues and coffee and was making my way out of the door when I saw the woman's youngest son (12 years old) sitting on the floor outside the hustle and bustle of the family in the waiting room. In tears. He sat, crying. I walked over- knowing he was the son- and told him who I was. Soon we embraced and with no words he just melted onto my lap as I tried to contain my silent stream of tears floating down my own face and into his blonde, curly hair.

I did not know what to say and thankfully he did not need to me say a thing. About twenty minutes later he told me he had not told his mom how beautiful he thought she was and he wanted to. So we walked down the hall. Nurses unhooking her ventilator  as we walked into the room and he wiped her face with his tear-filled hands. He wiped her brow, he brushed her hair and said, "Mama, you are beautiful."

His dad soon piled in the room along with other family and doctors and he glued himself to his aunt's leg. I left the room at the sound of another page, after being given the eyes of approval from this young boy, with a prayer and a hug and a promise (at least to myself) that God's grace was in the misery.


That night I got to leave the hospital.

I got to walk out into fresh air and see the clouds of the day removed and replaced by twinkling stars.

 I got to hug my mom and write a paper and sing songs in my car.

 But even as I did these things the face of that young boy, the memory of him cherishing his last moments of touching his mother, stuck with me. Throughout the rest of my year and the next year of div school this memory came back and forth and I fought it off and did not know what to do with it. I found myself reflecting on it in sermons and it brought to tears (that should have been a good reminder that  I was not over the moment myself… in my own defense, how could I be anyway?).

Tonight as I sat in my friend's car- pulled off the road to stare at the screen of my phone together watching the scene of a beloved character die in utter disbelief this moment came rushing back into my head and my heart. Where is that boy now? How is is family? I hope he knows God's love. I hope he can know how he shared that love with me as he told his mom of her beauty.

In the uncomfortable and embarrassing silence that followed us watching this scene I began to play music, anything to switch topics. Hold yourself together, Meg.

But, I am not sure I can ever forget that moment in the hospital- and as painful as it is I am not sure that I want to forget. Sure the sounds and the conversations will drift away but the way time stopped and love enveloped us all in the midst of tragedy will not leave me soon.

I still think about how I might have been a better chaplain- I wonder about how I could have improved in that situation- I pause and hope that anything I did, or really didn't say, did not send the beloved child of God running in fear.

Lately in church we have talked a lot about the church and how all are welcome and all gifts are valued and how the one real rule we need to stick to is to love our neighbor fully. Loving all my neighbors is hard- can I get an amen- especially when they do something to challenge me or frustrate me or make me angry but in thinking about how I love my neighbors I would like to think that the tear-filled face of a twelve year old boy resting on my lap is one way- just as sitting in a car and eating donuts watching a youtube television show scene is another.


Loving our neighbors is hard, I think, because in loving we are beckoned to see the whole person, to love the whole person, to listen and care and nurture and support the entire person.

 Loving our neighbors is hard, I think, because in loving we are begged to realize the face of God in those that remind us of our worst qualities, in the worst situations and in the hardest challenges. When we fully love our neighbors we are pressed towards a reality in which all stories can be heard and all people can be named beautiful. Even when their beauty is fleeting, in standards of the world, and death is 'knocking on the door.'

I am quite certain that I will struggle with that call, that hospital visit, for a long time. I am certain the faces will not soon wipe from my memory, the names from my mind, the emotion from my chest. I just hope that as I continue to reflect I can realize that my open lap was a form of love for my neighbor. I pray for a heart that can move from sadness into rejoicing that I was allowed into a sacred space, scared and shaky, to love my neighbor with all I had: my presence, my being and the knowledge (somewhere deep within me) that the love of God was not fleeting.


Tonight I cry tears of joy and sorrow as I recall that moment. As I feel the weight of that room all over again. As I say 'Thank you, God," for your love that lets me try my best to wholly love others.


If we are to love our neighbors, before doing anything else we must see our neighbors. With our imagination as well as our eyes, that is to say like artists, we must see not just their faces but the life behind and within their faces. Here it is love that is the frame we see them in. - Frederick Buechner

“You are Wonderful”: Learning How to Be Still

Another old but meaningful blog, at least for myself, from my internship during my last year plus of div school …. posted originally on the Wake Div Unfolding blog in February of '13 …

This year I have the privilege of interning at Arbor Acres. Arbor Acres, lovingly referred to as “the acres”, is a retirement community located just moments away from Wake Div. The community houses folks living independently in homes and apartments as well as persons living within skilled healthcare rooms or within the memory care center, Arborview.

This year I am serving as a chaplain at “the acres” – spending most of my time within the skilled healthcare and memory care centers. Before beginning my internship, I had no idea just how much my role as a chaplain in this space might stretch or transform me.

Over the course of the year I have found myself celebrating resident’s 100th birthdays, mourning with family at the loss of a loved one, hearing stories of life “back when”, creating meaningful artwork with folks burdened by memory loss and sharing in book studies with retired professors, beloved parents and grandparents, world travelers and a bunch of “ good ol’ clergy folk.”

In my time serving as a chaplain I have had the opportunity to walk into some of life’s most sacred moments with my residents: from offering the gift of communion, (bread crumbling and dripping,  into the mouth of one no longer able to take the bread and wine into their own hands) to holding the hand of a family member as they anticipate the final moments of their loved one’s life.

In thinking back to these moments, I find myself feeling as if there was no way I could ever be prepared to offer the right words or the perfect, loving, healing gestures. Yet, in the moment all that was needed was my presence. Throughout the semester I have found myself challenged- surely, I have thought, my presence is not enough; I could not be enough.

Just a few days back I found myself navigating the hallways ArborView, the memory care center. As I greeted the residents and staff I heard that “Mrs. B”, one of the residents was, actively dying. This news shocked and saddened me. Hours of time I had spent, hand in hand, walking the halls with Mrs. B flashed before my eyes; I could all but hear her strong yet small voice repeating, “You are wonderful,” to me over and over again as if it were any other, regular, day.

Yet this day, as I walked into her room, normalcy was gone. As she lay, breathing heavy breaths beneath her beautiful blue blanket in her softly padded bed, I walked over in tears. I grabbed Mrs. B’s lotion and softly placed it on her hands and arms, offering her only my salty tears and silent presence. Replacing her lotion on her nightstand and preparing to leave the room, knowing it was the last time I would see her face, I finally felt as if my presence was enough. My presence reminded Mrs. B that she too was wonderful; her presence taught me that silence was okay.

In all of my learning and growing at the acres I have learned one of the most powerful lessons of my div school career: when to shut my mouth and just be. Sometimes it is in shutting our mouths, quieting our brains, and just being, that the face of God shines like never before, reminding us that we all are wonderful, just the way we are.

Emotional Eating and Soul Friends: The Top Reasons to Do CPE

This blog was completed last April by my two dearest friends, Erica and Hillary, and myself… wonderful friends, wonderful memories.

APRIL 9, 2014

Clinical Pastoral Education, commonly referred to as “CPE,” is a pastoral care educational process of action and reflection. In our second year of divinity school we entered the CPE journey together at Wake Forest Baptist Health. CPE is offered at medical centers across the nation for academic credit and professional development. Our internship lasted from August to May. We were each assigned various units in which we served as the primary chaplain providing spiritual care to patients, families, friends and staff. Erica served on cardiology and pediatric floors. Hillary served as chaplain on an oncology/hematology floor. Megan offered pastoral care to families in surgical waiting and explored how children experience grief and art as care. CPE was life changing for each of us and we believe, if you let it, it can change your life too.

10. Pastoral care with naked people

You never know what you are going to walk into. Hospitals are vulnerable places full of stories and experiences. As a chaplain you walk into someone’s story and can be welcomed into very sacred spaces that are full of raw, naked emotions of pain and loss, and you get to be a part of that. It is messy. It is hard. The tissue boxes NEVER have enough tissues in them, but it is also really beautiful. Maybe you cannot fix it. Maybe all you can do is sit with them. But in that sitting, God is present. And sometimes you walk in and someone is physically naked… and you walk right back out.

9. Sometimes you just have to throw out the rule book.

CPE begins with a crash course in pastoral care. Within a week or so you learn the system, find the good coffee shop, grab your badge and are left alone on your floor. Thoughts rush through your head: “What do I say? Knock first… enter… sanitize hands. Ask to talk. Sit or stand? Which care gate am I entering? How do I get a food voucher? Where is the chapel anyway? Can I do this, really? Am I allowed on this floor?” And then the morning comes where the rule book you have been clutching to gets left on your desk and for the first time you think you might be able to do this in your own way. Throughout each encounter at the hospital you develop your own style of pastoral care that seeks to compassionately reach across boundaries. But never forget to sanitize. There really are “hand washing police.”

.

8. “How does that make you feel?”

This question has become a cliche for many of us throughout divinity school, but in CPE you realize that your own emotions are important. Once a week you gather with your fellow interns and beloved supervisors around a small table, in a dimly lit, cold room, to check-in. Conversation bounces around the room as everyone is invited to let down their guard and explore their own stories in relation to those of the medical center patients and staff. Somewhere between checking the on-call calendar, sharing a cookie around the table (thanks Dr. Jensen!) and passing the tissues to the person on your left, you realize that your emotions are not that bad after all. In this context you learn more about yourself than you ever imagined possible and exploring your emotions becomes a fun past time. So, really, how does this make you feel?

7. Food Towers 101

PPI – Personal Professional Integration – is meant to help you work through the questions, the emotions, the baggage and the theology that inevitably gets brought up on the floors. Sometimes it’s awesome, and you come to understand yourself, a patient, and God in a whole new light. Sometimes you realize that what makes you who you are is something you never thought of before. Other times, you’ve been arguing with God about how unfair, painful and completely-100%-wrong this situation is and no one can give you an answer. Sometimes you’ll have to bring those unprocessed, raw emotions and lay them on a table in front of your peers, and it will feel uncomfortable, and invasive, and you’ll hate how vulnerable you feel the first time you cry. But your peers will work with you to sift through the emotions, work through the pain and hold you gently with grace, compassion and insight. You’ll develop a love-hate relationship with PPI, but if you trust that everyone around the table wants to care for you, you’ll come out better for it. Other times, you’ll build a fortress of cafeteria food around you to protect your emotions from getting out.

6. Never Surrender

Weekly or bi-weekly (depending on your luck) you are “invited” to your supervisor’s office… not for cookies and tea but to check-in, review verbatims, talk about reflections and quite often to cry. As CPE started we all made a pact to NEVER SURRENDER to our supervisors’ eyes inviting us to cry as we talked about our week… our challenge was quickly lost. As the internship progressed we grew to cherish these tears and sacred office floor cries. Our new challenge: NEVER SURRENDER to the thought that crying was bad or meant we were weak. As we cried and sat in our own brokenness and feelings of inadequacy, the gentle nudge of a supervisor handing over a tissue, leaning into our frustrations, and crying with us became affirmation that we were enough. Your presence is important. You can do this and should never surrender.

5. Resident Temper Tantrums

“I’m not a real chaplain… real chaplains are good at this… they know what they’re doing… I’m just going to chat with people – nothing special about that.” If there was a quarter for every time chaplain interns doubted themselves, we could build our own temple of commerce. In lieu of quarters, we have our residents who see our talents and gifts and refuse to give up until we acknowledge we did a good job. The residents become these beautiful, stubborn reflections of God who show us exactly who we are, even when we try to ignore it and avoid it. They teach us to claim our gifts, to stop moving and trying to be better, and simply see ourselves as uniquely talented and called by God. Sometimes, it takes a grown man to sit on the floor for twenty minutes in a very public place before we realize how good we are just the way God made us.* Who knew tantrums could be so effective!

4. Good Vibrations

The pager becomes your best friend and worst enemy, all at once, during your first on-call shift. (Granted- there is often a resident on-call back up person there too) “Which button does what? What if I miss a page? Have I missed a page? What if I don’t know where the building is? Where do I put the pager anyway? How germy is this thing?” These questions fade away as soon as you hear that first vibration. Action time. Anxiety grows as you walk down the hallway (trying to recall that residents’ advice to paint a picture in your mind as you walk) into the unknown. As the primary pastoral care provider in the hospital, while on-call, you never know what you might encounter. But somewhere between the first moment when a family stares at you in expectation and the moment you leave the room after a silent prayer, you realize, again, that you can do this. You are a chaplain. On-call shifts invite you to claim and accept your pastoral identity. But, always remember to pick a good tune for the pager. You will hear it a lot.

3. Hiding in the Playground

On the 12th floor of Brenner Children’s Hospital (a part of Wake Forest Baptist Health – this is all confusing, but don’t worry; they provide maps and a quick tour during orientation) is a slice of heaven on earth: the rooftop playground. The playground overlooks Winston-Salem’s lights and highways – you can even see Wait Chapel in the distance.

“Need U. PG now” became a familiar text for us throughout our CPE experience. Meeting on the playground for a twenty minute self-care break would ground and center us after devastating visits, frustrating questions around why we are women doing this job or dealing with stress from life outside the hospital. Finding little ways to care for yourself throughout your CPE internship is essential. Without taking time to relax, breathe and find the beauty around you, burnout is unavoidable. Developing healthy self-care habits throughout CPE translates into life outside the medical center, empowering you to be the best minister you can be. So take time to play… and some days a gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream helps too.

2. Why God, Why?

We can’t sugar coat it – way too many awful things happen at the hospital. The stories we encountered in these rooms were painful, horrific, unbearable and often unfair, and the breath is sucked out of your chest. Your heart will break for these beautiful suffering souls, and you’ll find your way to the basement floor angry. Angry with a system that hurts people, angry with violently reactive people, angry with people who make bad choices, and angry with God for not doing anything. Why did you let this child into a family that would abuse him?  Why did you plague this child with cancer?  Why weren’t you there to protect their mother in the crash?  Why….? Your theology will be thrown on its head, even if you think you’ve mastered Tupper’s providence** or have God mostly worked out in your head. You’ll think things you logically know you don’t believe but nevertheless your heart will cry out for a God who doesn’t let any of this happen. You won’t really get an answer from God, but God’s presence will begin to take on tangible, holy and intimate faces and even in the midst of shattered lives and broken dreams, we find ourselves present, aching alongside and doing our best to sit in the mystery.

1. Soul Friends

Throughout the CPE internship you spend MANY hours with your cohort of learners. From time in didactics to sharing verbatims to lunch breaks and worship services you grow close, quickly. Over the course of your CPE internship these relationships become invaluable and blossom into soul friendships. As colleagues and classmates, you have struggled with God, yourself, your supervisors and one another. In the midst of heated debates and thoughtful critique of one another, bonds develop that are not easily separated. These friendships challenge, support, affirm and help you grow as a minister and person.

Throughout our CPE journey we became the best of friends. Our stories overlapped as we challenged one another, cried together and affirmed each other. Theologically we come from three very different places, our callings differ and our passions are unique to who we are. Yet, throughout our year long internship together we developed skills for pastoral care, grew to embrace who we are individually and gained the ability to eat inordinate amounts of ice cream. So, if you have been wavering on the decision to apply for Clinical Pastoral Education, do it – you will not regret it and everyone needs a good excuse to eat ice cream.

* If you want to hear this funny story ask Erica about our friend Rodney.
** “Tupper’s providence” refers to Dr. Frank Tupper’s Providence of God course. Tupper is Professor of Theology.

My 32 Minute Sabbath

I admit it. I am not the best at sabbath. Real sabbath. Put everything down and relax with myself kind of sabbath. I mean ever since I was a kid I have been on the go- no matter what - on the go, always. Parent's leaving me stacks of stickers and coloring pages alongside a touch night light beside my bed as a child- hoping these would suffice my midnight wakings and help me to help them sleep a bit longer as a young child. I have never liked stillness. Resting.


The idea of this kind of real deep sabbath sort of scares me.


At least it always has - until I began working at a church full time and then this need for real, alone, quite sabbath has become an almost, sometimes unfortunately, necessary part of my life (if I want to keep my sanity).

I have just finished re-reading Barbara Brown Taylor's (I am sort of obsessed with all things BBT, I admit it, but it is good stuff!) Leaving Church: A Memoir of Faith. This book does not advocate for all persons to jump on a bandwagon and say they are ready to leave the institutional church for other ways of living out their calling but inside invites readers to explore their calling and to rest within it. To realize that self-care is important in all callings and part of that self-care is sabbath. (Insert sarcasm: Great.)

This past week was exceptionally long and at the end of it I found myself about two more emails away from pulling my hair out and running back home to my four year old cousin and his heart that I know will always hold room for "May May."

 On Saturday after my typical clean the house morning, afternoon volunteering with BINGO at a retirement living center (part of my calling- not BINGO per say but the old folks- I will have to write about this later, it is all too real and raw to process now) and enjoying a mushy feast at the same center with a lovely couple I came home to my dogs and my exhaustion sank in like a bag of bricks over my shoulder.

I decided that perhaps I would practice sabbath in a way I had not before.

I typically break and realize all the good in my life by picking up the splintering woody paintbrushes from their drying rack in my bright kitchen and going to town on my latest water color (paint of choice now a days) creation.

 But this evening as I got my paints out I began to list the things I need to work on with my paint: I had a friend's birthday coming up, I needed to mail a letter and wanted to send a watercolor post card along with it. My sabbath was becoming my work and I decided to put the paints (As much as I love them) away and attempt something else.

I picked up my phone and soon put it back down, on silent and decided I would go to take a long bubble bath.  I was nervous about leaving my phone at first- what if there was an emergency, what if there was a problem, what if I did not reply to a message quick  enough and it upset someone. Leaving the screens behind made me uncomfortable. I did not want to miss out and I did not want anyone to be upset with me for missing anything.

I put my phone down and then back up and down and back up. Soon I decided to leave it in the other room- I cannot take a call in the bath anyway I thought. I can leave it hear- I have a good excuse.

A bubble bath- That is relaxing I thought .That is what I needed (and I hoped deep within myself that it would be relaxing fast enough that I would not have to sit alone in the silence for too long).

I gathered some candles and took them in the bathroom and ran water as warm as I could stand with bubbles pilling high to the edge of the tub.

 I sat there, I soaked, I pruned.

 Water became cold and I warmed it up a bit. I breathed a deep sigh and shook out, as well I could, all the lists of things I needed to do in my head. As my bath came to an end I stood up and stretched toward the sky, breathing out breaths of thanksgiving and in breaths of joy. I stretched in a practice learned in a wonderful class during seminary as I got dressed into my baggy pajamas.

The process felt like it had taken forever and I felt more refreshed and yet like the to do lists would spill from my ears if I did not let them escape onto paper. I made my way toward my phone and computer and picked up a small page of paper. Beginning to write my list and my phone blinked- a message. Ignoring the message I noticed that it was 7:02PM.

I had jumped in the bathtub at 6:30PM. I had relaxed for all of 32 minutes, sort of, and was already ready to get back to it- so I thought.

32 MINUTE SABBATH: CHECK.

The rest of the evening I tried not to bully myself over this and told myself- it will take time to be good at this (All the while having some envy in my heart for my dear Jewish brothers and sisters who practice a real sabbath each week and my beloved second-family of Muslim believers who take time throughout the day, each day, to just be and are thankful for it). The rest of my night was full of ice cream and relaxing in the midst of to do lists and just reading over Sunday school lessons ( I convinced myself that since I was just reading to know what was happening and I would not be teaching per-say that it was ok to do this).

My sabbath was 32 minutes.
And it was good.

I am working more intentionally to become better at sabbath, at rest, at stopping and saying WOW THIS IS GOOD. Just as our creator stopped and rested on the 7th day, not out of sheer exhaustion, but to breathe in deep breathes of thankfulness, to look around and center one-self and to say WOW THIS IS GOOD.

I am working on this.

 Perhaps I should aim to increase my real sabbath time by ten minutes a week. Perhaps I should rest a bit more each day. I am not sure- all I know is that it is good to stop and to breathe in deep breaths and to say thank you, this is good. I hope that I can keep on keeping on in this practice. Life can become overwhelming and work can burn one out so quickly.


But I did not miss anything too important and life went on. The silence did not envelop me but instead invited me to breath and to hear myself breathe, to be thankful for these breaths, to soak and to notice the curves of my hands and the warmth of the water embracing my entire being, and to be thankful.


 May we all take time to rest, to be thankful and to know that world will still go on around us. I am not sure how I will continue working on my rest but know that it is important enough to do. For in my rest I may find something I have longed to hear. I may feel myself breathe breaths I have never felt so distinctly before. And if not- it will still be good and the silence will not be as hard to stand as I had once imagined.



I leave you with a little jewel from  BBT's Leaving Church: A Memoir of Faith (alongside a huge invitation to read this beautiful work):


“Committing myself to the task of becoming fully human is saving my life now...to become fully human is something extra, a conscious choice that not everyone makes. Based on my limited wisdom and experience, there is more than one way to do this. If I were a Buddhist, I might do it by taking the bodhisattva vow, and if I were a Jew, I might do it by following Torah. Because I am a Christian, I do it by imitating Christ, although i will be the first to admit that I want to stop about a day short of following him all the way. 

In Luke's gospel, there comes a point when he turns around and says to the large crowd of those trailing after him, "Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple" (14:26). Make of that what you will, but I think it was his way of telling them to go home. He did not need people to go to Jerusalem to die with him. He needed people to go back where they came from and live the kinds of lives that he had risked his own life to show them: lives of resisting the powers of death, of standing up for the little and the least, of turning cheeks and washing feet, of praying for enemies and loving the unlovable.” 
― Barbara Brown Taylor, Leaving Church: A Memoir of Faith

Remember the waters of your baptism …

Baptism has long been the sacrament that most pulls my heart and centers me in God's good and all abounding grace. There is something about not only watching but participating within a promise to uphold a child, to love and support them, to nurture and care for them that brings an intimacy within church that often feels abandoned.

Growing up within a UMC I became very familiar with infant baptism and although older children and adults were baptized (including some of my own family) within my church the beauty of baptism has long grown out of those moments watching a small child being cooed in front of the congregation as hearts unite and voices join together making angelic promises to love this child, this child of God, with all one has- for as long as one has.  The communal promise,  the covenantal promise, made within baptism in the UMC has long captivated my heart.

Although I do not clearly recall my baptism as a child I often find myself closing my eyes and imagining the hands of "PB" (my beloved mentor, preacher, friend) pouring cool water upon my head and inviting the church, the family, to hug me with their words and to embrace me with their prayers forever.

As a (newly established) children and family minister baptism has become by far one of the most holy offerings in church. Just a few weeks ago I was invited to join in on the baptism of two beautiful girls and one sweet baby boy. All of the kiddos ranged within the three- sixth month range. The baptism began just after the opening hymn - the space took on a new sacred. I walked over to the baptismal fount where I picked up one of the proud big brothers to pour in the water as blessings flowed from the pastor's lips. As she, the pastor, spoke to the power of the water the young boy's eyes sparkled- he did not know what exactly he was doing, outside of enjoying playing in the water, but he knew that this moment was important for the babies. As we had practiced this moment before church he reminded me that the water was critical as he reminded me something along the lines of - do not spill it. He knew his job was important. In his pouring the water he was making a promise of his own.

 After the water was poured it was time for the infants to be blessed in the waters. One by one the babes were passed from their parents arms into those of my friend as her eyes twinkled blessing the babes and promising, inviting us all to promise, that we would not forget the water pouring upon their heads. Babies crying and cooing the service continued.

It was finally time for the sweet baby boy to be blessed and as the waters were poured on his head it was my job to hold him. The light waters of baptism felt a bit heavier to me that morning as they dripped from his face upon my hands. The waters hitting my hands beckoned me to recall my own baptism like never before. As the small tear like stream flowed from his face upon my hands I could not tell what was his own salty tear and what was the water of baptism - and it did not matter. The congregation joined together, the family joined together, in words of assurance that carried a weight I had never taken time to fully accept, at least not like I was on this blistering hot July morning…

Together, babies crying, water dripping down their faces upon their freshly pressed white robes and onto our hands we all said:


Through baptism
you are incorporated by the Holy Spirit
into God's new creation
and made to share in Christ's royal priesthood. We are all one in Christ Jesus.
With joy and thanksgiving we welcome you
as members of the family of Christ.

We promised these children promises that take away my breath to really think them through telling them: 

You are welcome here. You are wanted here. You are loved here. You are part of the family and in this family we are not leaving anyone behind. Good or bad, up or down, we are in this together.  

After promises were made on behalf of the family and the congregation the babies were to be walked around the sanctuary as the room filled with angelic singing of an ancient hymn and the very loud cry of one of the sweet baby girls…. who ironically enough- stopped her shouting the moment she was back to her mama's arms! Walking the sweet babies around the room I found my heart racing and eyes tearing up as the smiles of those gathered, young and old, greeted these children with eyes a fresh to the promises they had just made. Perhaps I was the only one who had never really thought about how deep these words we had shared in baptism were before… 

Walking back towards the front of the room as the hymn was coming to a close I was nearly blocked off by an eager young boy who wanted to see the baby for himself. He reached out to the small child I embraced in my arms and as I bent down to let the two boys make eye contact he looked at the baby and simply said, "How cute. We love him."

How cute. 

We love him.


What a promise I thought. That is the promise. An intimate promise that crosses boundaries and frustrations. An intimate promises that walks miles and holds hands in silence. An inmate promise that holds hands and changes diapers. We love him. We promise to love them all. Good or bad, up or down, because we are a family. And in this family, in God's great big family, no one is not important and these promises - these water dripping, refreshing promises, they last a life time.



Ever since this baptismal experience I have found myself reflecting more on my own baptism. I do not recall who was were or what was said or just how cold the water was or how I reacted but I do know that the same folks who stood in the pews and promised to love me, good or bad, have stood up to their promise. Baking my favorite foods after hospital stays, saying prayers with me over the phone, taking me to dinner and birthday shopping trips, listening to my tired talkative self at late night lock-ins. Reminding me that God's good grace abounds hard things like loosing family members and wondering why my own leg wouldn't even work the right way sometimes. I recall PB standing with me after the funeral of my uncle and telling me that he knew he loved me and God still loved me. I can all but still feel the warm arms of one of my church grandpas embracing me each Sunday as if he had found a long lost relative whom all he wanted was to hug. I can feel the pains of deep laughter brought to me by one of my dearest friends and I as we painted banners for nearly everything the church ever had as young girls who just knew we knew how the church should run (joke is on us as we both now work in the church and are learning the real ways churches are ran). 



Today I pray that I can live into the baptismal vows like never before for these children, for my baby cousins, for all of the baptisms I have joined within as a member of God's great big family, for my family and my friends- to be there and to be loving. To be there and to be supportive. Just to be there. 


As I remember the waters of my baptism I am thankful and I am refreshed by God's grace that wrapped itself around me in those sprinkling waters and am thankful for the waters that continue to wrap and envelop me in God's good love and ever present grace. 

Through baptism
we are incorporated by the Holy Spirit
into God's new creation
we are made to share in Christ's royal priesthood. 

We are all one in Christ Jesus.

With joy and thanksgiving we are all, always, welcomed as members of the family of Christ.

With joy and thanksgiving may we all, always, welcome and embrace all members of God's great big family.