I Would NEVER….

Over a decade ago, as a late 20-something and first-time pastor’s wife, I sat in a room full of crafting and scrapbooking late 30-somethings at a friend’s home.  The chatter quickly turned to the latest hair-coloring or nail-doing experience with advice and suggestions hanging in the air between us.  At the time, I neither colored my hair nor had my nails done.

I stated clearly and boldly that I would NEVER color my hair and that I would NEVER pay someone to paint my nails.

Several years after that fun evening filled with laughter and my judgmental attitude, I discovered that having someone paint my nails helped me not to pick at the skin around my nails.  I had (finally) been properly diagnosed with bipolar tendencies and placed on medication.  The huz and I had long known that the skin-picking was a tell-tale sign of something being “off” in me, but I struggled to stop.  The kind ladies at the nail shop clipped away the straggling pieces of skin and transformed my fingers from disfigured to beautiful.

So much for NEVER paying someone to paint my nails…

As I passed my mid-30s into my late 30s, I noticed more and more grey in my typically deep brown hair.  As someone who others had mistaken for the nanny of my own children a decade earlier, I enjoyed the age-centering feeling the silver strands gave me initially.  As time went on, though, I started to notice that some of the strands were dull rather than the vibrant silver that I knew would come in another decade.  My dear stylist suggested a little layering of color to ease me into the next decade or so.  Every two to six months, I have her add another layer of blending, and it is fun.  Even though I do not want all of my silver to go away, I love the vibrant feeling I have leaving her place.

So much for NEVER coloring my hair….

This blog has been quiet for several months – over six to be more exact – and there are several reasons for that. I would love to say that “being busy” is the main reason, but that is just an excuse that I allow to rule my actions.  In reality, I think I gave up my voice – that style of thinking and writing that I have relied upon to communicate my deep soul thoughts.  When I started writing a blog a day in August 2011, I started to find my voice again.  I found a rhythm, and I thought, “I will NEVER stop writing.”

And then I did. The blog went silent.

I do not think that there is anything wrong with the fact that I have not written for a while.  For ten weeks of that silence, I compiled others’ voices (and little bit of my own) into a project for Village Creek Bible Camp.  The compilation of voices all focusing on providing a daily devotional thought to anyone who would buy the book is – next to my marriage and raising two wonderful children – the project that has given me the most life. Ever.  I was seriously overwhelmed by nearly thirty others giving their time, energy, and talent to a project that was born from a conversation.

So…what is wrong with NEVER?

The social media world bombards us with information about much bigger NEVERs than hair-coloring or not blogging.  In our efforts to share our deep beliefs on all points on a given spectrum, we often reach a point where we say things that sound a lot like NEVER.  And then those NEVERs start to create walls between us, and our dialogue stops as we pick up our stones ready to throw them toward the words on the “other side.”

Before we say NEVER, we might need to take inventory of our lives and our purpose.

The words on the other side of where we stand have people in front of them. In the same way that I let a stream of judgment flow onto my friend about hair and nails, we cover others around us with our opposition to their words.  We rarely consider the harm that this brings to our relationships.  Even when do consider it, that rarely concerns us.  We want to win the argument.  We want to be right.

And we forget that there are relationships at stake. 

Often our differences and judgments come from our life experiences.  We engaged in some kind of NEVER earlier in our lives, and now we have to stand against that in order to reconcile or to redeem our past decisions.  We have been hurt by the NEVER of someone else, and now we have to stand against that in order to heal.

Anger – judgment – does not lead to healing.

As an opinionated person, I am grateful that – in America – we all get to have our opinions.  With the First Amendment in place, I can be wrong, you can be wrong, and we have to be civil about our disagreements.  If our speech incites actions that would harm others, we lose that freedom. While most people would disagree with me on this, I am going to say that most of our current speech falls into this category.  Rather than engaging in loving conversation that leads to greater understanding of others’ opinions, we lob hateful (and sometimes unrelated) grenades at the other side and then look surprised when an explosion occurs.

I have had a few thoughts bouncing around in my head that sound a lot like “that voice” that I used to have through writing blog posts.  As I share those thoughts, I desire to always come to “the table” with love, consideration, and hope.  In my latest “old age,” I know better than to say that “I would NEVER” (purposefully) be hurtful as I write.  I do hope that I avoid hurtful speech, though, and would appreciate readers holding me to that.

This Little (Night)Light of Mine

Saturday was a big day in my life: I bought a night light for the master bathroom.

Rewind: when we moved to Bismarck, we moved into a fantastic house. I love it.  The housing market in Bismarck, ND, is crazy because of the oil boom “out west.”  The most expensive place to live in the nation is Williston, ND, and that expensiveness has made its way to Bismarck.  Because of that, we chose to rent, and – for the second time in our married lives – I saw the house for the first time when I arrived to live in it.

My house is not without quirks, though. One of the quirks is that the master bedroom is in the basement and formerly was the garage. The renovation created a beautiful room with hardwood floors and a walk-out french door view of the spacious backyard.  The bathroom is even more unique than the bedroom with a quarter circle shower in the corner of the room.

The scary part of the bathroom is the step down to get from the bedroom to the bathroom. This makes for hazardous travel on those middle of the night bathroom trips.  It is even more hazardous because it is super, super dark in our room at night and even darker in the bathroom.

Imagine me inching toward the step from my bedroom, holding my hand along the wall and sliding my feet to catch the end of the step.

This pretty much wakes a person up for good.

I am proud to say that neither the huz nor I have been harmed on any of these middle of the night trips, but we have only been here for five and a half months.

On Saturday, I went on the hunt for the perfect night light and found it.  The light it gives off is just enough to make my path known but not enough to trick my brain into thinking it should start working for the day.

As I looked at the light for the first time on Saturday, I had another quick thought that got my brain going (it was ok for my brain to go, though, as it was the middle of the day!).

It really does not take much light to dispel the darkness around us.

I could go on and on for a while about the darkness around us, the negativity of others, and how that makes our souls ache in ways that make us want to stay in bed for days and days.

I do not need to do that.

We are all pretty aware that our world in general is tough, and our specific worlds can be roughness personalized because of what we experience or because of what those close to us experience.

It is not by accident that light gives us hope and darkness brings us down.

Genesis 1: 1-3 In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. ² Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.

³ And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. ⁴ God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. ⁵ God called the light “day,” and the darkness he called “night.” And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day.

When Jesus came to Earth, it was dark here. There was a dark sin condition, and He needed to bring hope to us so that we could live life.

John 8:12 Jesus spoke to the people once more and said, “I am the light of the world. If you follow me, you won’t have to walk in darkness, because you will have the light that leads to life.”

And then Jesus commands us to be light as well.

Matthew 5:14a You are the light of the world.

What we need to do is look for the light around us.  Even a small glimmer of light can give us hope in the midst of our darkness.Sometimes it is hard to find the light because so many of us are hiding our lights.

Matthew 5:15 Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house.

We are content to be our own personal darkness, and – for whatever reason – we choose to hide our lights.  We are concerned that people around do not want to see our lights or hear why we have hope in our lives.

My nightlight is really cool.

When I turn on the bathroom light – which fills the room fully with light – the nightlight goes off. Its light is not needed any more because the bigger light consumes the room.

One day, our lights will not be needed any more either.

When Jesus returns, we will be in God’s presence for eternity.Until then, we are called to be nightlights to the world around us – bringing them hope and sharing with them the reason that we can shine even though darkness surrounds us on all sides.

John 10:10b I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.

Amen.

 

You Are a Masterpiece

I have a good friend who is not only a Bloggity-Mc-Bloggerson (click here to go to her blog and be blessed) but also is a published author (click here to get a free Kindle version). Her book helped me through the difficult set of transitions I experienced this fall, and I wrote a blog post in August that served as a  book review while also pouring out my heart to the blog world about the transitions.

Living in a new place can be terrifying and lonely at times.

We have moved plenty of times throughout our marriage, so one would think that I would be used to transitions.  The problem with this particular move was that I had been in one place for so long that I thought God was done having me be on the move.

A word to the wise: don’t think that!

I had settled in, made connections, lived life, and thought, “This is it! I’ll be here forever.”  Not a month after I had that thought and really felt it in ernest, my huz was approached to consider a unique opportunity that turned out to be a call on our lives.

The phone rang, and we answered.

The experience has been exciting and new and fun and wonderful…and hard and difficult and terrifying…and great and different and fulfilling.

Where I find myself struggling is finding “that crew” of people who can do super fun things with me because I want to do something super fun and because I want to plan something super fun for a bunch of super fun…but I am not really sure where all of the super fun people are to be found.

I know where some of them are…and for them, I am really grateful!

I hatched a plan to put some super fun people together in the same doing something fun – Bismarck’s version of “Canvas and Wine.” I am sure you have seen friends posting pictures of their replicas of some cool painting that they did with a bunch of other people.  This looked fun to me, and now I am going to do it too.

I even made a cool poster thing for the Facebook invite.

I chose Starry Night by Vincent Van Gogh for the event.

This painting draws me into it and almost begs me to become a part of it.  The more I have looked at it in the past few weeks, the more I have wanted it to be hanging on my wall.  I am trusting that the artists at the Theo Art School can walk me through it one brush stroke at a time.

Starry Night is considered a masterpiece, and I doubt many would argue that.  In looking at other works by Van Gogh, we can see his talent as an artist. He was creative,  had a vision to communicate through his art, and carefully crafted the masterpiece.

And the painting – or thinking about the painter really – reminds me of an important truth about myself and my Creator.

Ephesians 2:10 (NLT) – For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things He planned for us long ago.

God – our Creator is creative, has a message to communicate through His creation, and has carefully crafted each of us as a signature piece – a masterpiece.

On Thursday, my post shared some of my overcoming of insecurities about my body shape, type, and size.  While I would like to say that all of that overcoming work is done, the truth is that those very same insecurities – as well as insecurities about my inside world – crop up often.

This happens most often when I forget that I am God’s signature piece.

This happens most often when I forget that I a new creation through Christ Jesus.

This happens most often when I forget that I am God’s masterpiece with a purpose to “do good things He planned for [me] long ago.”

My insecurities about my inside world inform my insecurities about my exterior world and paralyze me…keep me from doing what God intends for me to do – bring glory and honor to Him through serving others and worshiping Him.

However, when I remember who created me and that He created me with a purpose, my insecurities need to go by the wayside.  If I am focusing on doing the good things He planned for me, I have no time to give to insecurities.  And when they creep in themselves (as they so often do, right?), my focus can scare them away.

So – to all you masterpieces who have allowed yourselves to be hidden in the basement of a museum somewhere (like I often find myself doing), it is time to dust ourselves off and to start allowing others to see the brilliance of our Creator through us.

**artwork attribution is Vincent Van Gogh – there are loads of images of his works around the internet!

Reflections on 2014

As I look back on 2014, I realize that God is always up to something.

A year ago today, my family was in Austria. As a send off to the kids during their graduation year, we had booked a crazy Christmas and New Year’s trip to Rome, Venice, Munich, and Vienna. The locations were chosen based on what we each wanted to experience if we were only able to go to Europe once.  Let me just say that every location was a great choice, and we had great seats for most of it.

As others are thinking about changes and resolutions, I have no time for that. I have had my share of changes for a while and look forward to some stability in 2015.  So – as I think back on 2014 and look into 2015, I thought I would share the top things that I learned this year.  I hope that they resonate with you and encourage you in some way.

One: Transition is a good teacher. Although I have experienced a lot of transition in my life, I have not experienced so many transitions all at once like I did in 2014.  I had three different jobs, lived in two different houses, watched my kids graduate from high school and then leave for college, and experienced a huge shift in the huz’s ministry.  When I thought that my brain might explode from keeping all of the details together in August, I took deep breaths, thanked God for His sustaining grace, and woke up each day ready to conquer it.  I learned so much about myself, my parenting, and my marriage.

Two: I love my family.  The four of us book-ended 2014 with time together as just the four of us. This was slightly intentional but also just happened. It’s hard to spend time with others when you fly off to Europe!  Although we love our extended families on both sides, we also love time as just the four of us.  We like the same games, the same television shows, and the same food. We finish each other’s sentences, laugh at ourselves (and each other), and work hard as a unit when necessary.  I am very aware that these times may be fewer in the coming years, so I am holding on to 2014 with a firm grip.

Three: Empty-nesting does not ruin your life. Several friends who have gone through this stage in front of me told me that I would be just fine, and I believed them…but I still doubted and mourned as well.  Once I returned from my trip to see the kids in October, I knew they were really fine at Baylor University. And shortly after that, I realized that I was not only surviving but thriving.  While I looked forward to their return for break with great anticipation, I am not crying as I realize that they leave again in just over a week.  They have their lives to live; we have our lives to live.  When all of the lives intersect, we are super happy.  But I refuse to stop living during the times in between.

Four: God is good. I could re-count some of the thoughts that I have shared over the past few months on the blog, but I won’t.  To summarize: God is good all the time.  He turns my mourning into dancing. He leads me beside still waters.  And He restores my soul.  Without God’s action in my life and the hope that comes with knowing He desires for me to live abundantly, I would not know where to begin.  In the dark times of doubt and chaos, I know He is there.  And He brings me clear reassurance to show me that I am in His will right now.  That is amazing.

I have no idea what 2015 will bring. I have some guesses; however, based on 2014 and its life-changing events, I think I might be willing to say that I cannot control 2015 with any certainty.  The one thing that I do know is that I cannot go wrong if I look to God as my guide for what to do and how to do it.

As we ring in 2015, let us all remember to be still for a moment and acknowledge God’s goodness to us – whether in the small things or in the big things.

 

Advent, Apologies, and Joy

I have never experienced Advent in the way that I am experiencing it this year.

Each ticking off of the Sundays of Advent brings me another step closer to seeing my children return from their first semester at Baylor University – TOMORROW (God, weather, and roads willing).  To be a little cheesy, this mama bear is ready to have her cubs around for longer that 48 hours.  I am so proud of them, and I feel that we have all adjusted as well as we could have given the apple cart upsetting that we experienced in August.  I look forward to some relaxing times with them in our old stomping grounds of Minneapolis as well as our new home in Bismarck.  The time between Thanksgiving and today has dragged along, but I am sure that the next four weeks will fly by.  *sigh*

Each ticking off of the Sundays of Advent brings me another step closer to the end of our first semester at the University of Mary.  Seriously – wow! We have really changed our ministry focus and have loved every minute with the students here. This unique experience as Protestants in a committed Catholic environment has stretched and grown us in ways that we did not know could happen.  The dialogues that we have had with students and faculty have been amazing.  As I see it, we are here for two purposes: to be in dialogue with brothers and sisters from other denominations and to provide ministry in the Protestant traditions for those students and staff of those traditions.  This is transformational – can you imagine a Protestant university hiring a Catholic priest to minister on that Protestant campus? I am still in shock and so grateful.  I am really digging our new gig.

Advent is a time of reflection as we await the arrival of the Christ child.  In my reflecting, I have realized that sometimes I hit “publish” on my blog posts without thinking it all through.  A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a post about this new call on our lives, and I need to share an apology – or maybe just a clarification.  In the post, I wrote about sitting in Mass one Sunday evening and thinking that I am not “here” for the Catholic students sitting around me in the service.  After I hit publish and shared the post on Facebook, one of the Catholic students whom I would count as a dear friend made a comment.  It was not her comment that made me reflect but just the fact that she and I are in fellowship that forced me to re-think my words.  Who am I to limit God’s call on my life?  I am  here to minister to whomever and with whomever God brings into my life. We are here to be the hands and feet of Christ, to love any who comes into our lives, and to share the love of Jesus with whomever will listen.  So – I’m sorry. Deeply sorry.

Two days ago was the Advent Sunday of Joy.  My college English writing students who paid attention enough to know that we do not capitalize words without reason to do so would be upset that I wrote Joy instead of joy; however, it just seems like joy should be capitalized this week.  Maybe I should shout it – JOY (by the way, to those who follow me on Facebook, that lady is still sending me emails in all caps.  Seriously.).

JOY! Yes, this Advent week reminds us of the joy that our souls find because of Christ’s arrival on Earth.  As the song says, “No more let sin and sorrows grow.”  With Christ’s arrival on Earth, all of what was known about God’s kingdom was turned upside down and changed forever. Jesus – Messiah – arrived to save us, free us, bless us, and reign in us.  He came that we could live abundantly.

When we look around us, life abundant seems hard to find some days.  Death, divorce, disease, and discord seem to be winning the fight.  We should probably get off of our computers, log out of Facebook accounts, leave our houses, and go find life.  It is out there waiting for us to live in the same way that we wait in Advent.  And the joy that we seek will rarely be found where we think it will be – fame, career, or wealth.  Instead – in the same unexpected way that Jesus – the King – was found in a humble stable, JOY will likely be found in humble ways of serving others and looking beyond our own wants.

Advent reminds us that we remain in waiting for the second coming of Jesus.  All of the discord that we combat by seeking joy will end when Christ returns and reigns forever as King of King and Lord of Lords.  We will wait…and wait…and wait.  While we wait, we will seek joy through service to God through serving others.

Each year at Advent – this year at Advent – let us remember that Christ came so that we could have life.  As we wait to celebrate Christ’s birth, let us remember that Christ came for a purpose.  As we wait, let us remember that Christ is coming again.  Amen.

 

 

A Little Thing Means a Lot

I stayed in bed far too long yesterday morning. Excitement and fear paralyzed me as I looked forward to the lunch appointment I had on the University of Mary campus with someone who had intervened in one very specific moment in my life over 20 years ago.

When I was a freshman at Concordia College, my bipolar self was not diagnosed accurately.   The highs and lows of energy that I still experience manifested themselves in those days in a variety of ways such as chaotic eating, concentrated exercise schedules,  extended depressive episodes, odd sleep patterns, spurts of intense productivity,  and general silliness.  All of these things masked what truly bothers me – energy-based bipolar tendencies which a psychiatrist finally diagnosed correctly when I was 36 years old. During those college days, though, I spent a good amount of time “on the run” – something I still often feel tempted to do and have posted about in the past.

The church I attended during high school had a very active youth group. We went to camp, traveled on mission trips, and spent most Wednesday nights and weekends together.   Every Christmas and Easter, our group joined other groups from around North and South Dakota for retreats.  These were my good friends – the same friends that I found at camp. I married one of them, and I remain friends with most of the others to this day in some way or another (at the very least on Facebook).  I also had the opportunity to meet other adults from around the state who spoke into my life at various points throughout high school, college, and into my adult life.

Several weeks ago, I sat in a meeting with University of Mary Student Support Services staff members.  Each of my English 098 students has an advisor, and I wanted to share my thoughts, impressions, and concerns with the advisors as a group. I had emailed with many of them, but their supervisor and I thought it would be worthwhile for me to attend one of their meetings.  When we went around the table and introduced ourselves, one name…and the face…seemed oddly familiar.  I was completely caught off-guard but had to focus on my meeting.

After the meeting, I could not shake the impulse to contact her, so I did….by email…because that is the best way to find out information without exposing my soul to too much pain or rejection if I am wrong.

Ummm…were you, by chance, a youth leader from <<her church>> in the 90s?

I sat at my computer and waited for the reply. I refreshed my email several times, and then her response came – YES!  I shared a few more details about who I was “back then,” and her reply came back again…she remembered me!

The next day, we were at an event together.  When I saw her, I had mixed emotions about knowing that she knew that me…the me who left her dorm room in the middle of the night because the urge to run had overwhelmed her…the me who did not know how to deal with the thoughts that told her to run…the me who showed up in a driveway hundreds of miles away from college, slept in the car, and was found that way the next morning by the very woman standing in front of me…the me who this youth leader had encouraged to go back to school saying that I was fine.

“We should have lunch,” she said.

Yesterday, we had lunch.  Throughout the morning, though, all of the parts of me that feels and experiences joy, anxiety, and fear held my body in a paralyzing force.  The what ifs of how lunch could go raced through my mind and nearly kept me from going.  To be honest, I left the house later than I had planned, I took the long way to the university, and I thought I might just keep driving south to miss the lunch appointment altogether.  Eventually I put on my big girl pants, and I still arrived early.  Strange how that works!

All morning, I felt like “that me” again…young, frightened, and ready to run.  At the same time, I felt like the “this me” who is the dean of students of a new little online school in Minnesota, teaches classes at the University of Mary, is married to a pastor, and has two grown children attending Baylor University.  This paradox of us being able to feel two ages at once is something that I need to explore more in another post.

When we sat down, she asked me to tell her about me.  I was stunned and absolutely speechless.  I know – me! speechless??  I had no idea where to start.  There I was sitting in front of a woman who had found the eighteen year old me in her driveway after I had driven a few hundred miles and slept in my car…and she wanted to know about the “today” me – the forty year old pastor’s wife and mother of two freshmen in college.  It dawned on me that my own children are now the age of “the me” who ended up in her driveway that night.

As I told her about me, I told her the raw stuff without going into the icky details of any of it. We both have master’s degrees in education, work as guidance counselor types, and are familiar with the lingo, so it was easy to be sort of clinical about it all.

Before I knew it, lunch was over.  We parted ways as we each have jobs that need us.  We waved goodbye in that way that we do when we know the person is in the same town or on the same college campus most days.  The mood was light, and it became clear to me that all of my anxiety was silly.

Next week, I will drop off a book to the student success center where she works.  The book is a compilation of essays written by my students. The title is Unexpected Giants and is a tribute to those who have carried my students (and me) on their shoulders so that we could see futures that we could not have seen alone.

When I  mentioned the incident to her (as a point of reference for other incidents in my life), I used my favorite term – “crazy.”  She sort of laughed it off and said, “I worked with teenagers, Stacy.  I didn’t really think it was all that unusual.”

While my essay is not about this particular giant, it easily could be.  One day, I hope to write the book that features all of my giants.  I had good parents who did their best raising me.  But sometimes we need other caring adults to impact our lives as well.  This dear woman did that for me clearly – based on her comment to me yesterday – without judgement. I am thankful for the brief, yet powerful, role she played in my life.

I know that this season is busy, but can I challenge all who read this?  Whose life can you briefly touch today, this week, this month, this year, or this lifetime?  And…as you drive to work, put up the tree, or bake those cookies, consider who were giants in your life…and how you can let them know the powerful way that they impacted your life?

 

Right is Rarely Easy

We arrived to the Sunday evening campus mass earlier than usual so that I could briefly meet with one of my writing students.  After my meeting with the student, the huz and I still had plenty of time before mass.  The hallway outside of the chapel was mostly empty, and we decided to go in and sit down in the mostly empty sanctuary.

I closed my eyes, tried to empty my mind of the busy things that invaded my thoughts, and talked to God a bit about my continued mixed feelings about His call on our lives and the upsetting of the apple cart that we continued to sense even three months into the adventure.  With Thanksgiving weekend approaching, we have travel plans that include family in one part of the state and friends in another state – our former home.  In July, I spent a weekend with and Excel spreadsheet and websites such  Travelocity and Expedia searching for the best ticket prices.  Our kids fly into one airport and out of another thanks to our attempt to provide all four of us with a touch of something that means home.

Home is not yet Bismarck, ND, for our whole family. I will admit that Bismarck is growing on me quite a bit.  I think that my huz would say the same, but I hesitate to speak for him.  God worked out the details for a house that is beyond what I could have hoped given the current housing market in North Dakota’s booming economy.  We are thankful for the existing friendships that we had before our arrival, and many new friendships grow as we meet people through our various roles.  Everyone is very welcoming on the University of Mary campus, in our new church, and in our neighborhood.

Clicks on the cement floor of the chapel and rustling of people around me blend with my thoughts as others enter the chapel for mass.  As it gets closer to the start of the service, these sounds interrupt my thoughts more and more. I opened my eyes and turned my head to see the sanctuary that had filled nearly to capacity around me.  My breath still catches at the sight of students and others on their knees on the cement floor (no kneelers) with eyes closed as they prepare for the service.  On Monday, I joined several of those in attendance in a hustle and bustle of a college campus as we raced from class or to eat lunch at the cafeteria.  In that silent moment in the chapel on Sunday evening, though, we were quiet, calm, and hopeful.

The organ interrupted all of our contemplations and prayers with the lead in to “Crown Him With Many Crowns.”  The service bulletin informed us that Sunday was known in the liturgical calendar as “The Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe.”  I grew up attending Mendenhall Presbyterian  Church in East Grand Forks, ND, so I am no stranger to the repetitive liturgical cycle.  I think someone was pretty clued in tot he fact that we humans need repetition.  We forget things that someone told us only moments ago.  As media bombards us with more and more information, there is less and less information in our head. The liturgical calendars helps us annually celebrate and remember the same basic truths that we celebrated and remembered last year.

Throughout the service, we sing, we pray, we hear Scripture read, and we sing some more.  Each time I have attended the campus mass since moving to Bismarck in August, I have been impressed by the singing of that particular week’s Psalm.  The leader teaches the congregations the first verse of the Psalm, and then he or she sings other parts of the Psalm while the organ holds the chord.  The congregation joins again as the leader signals us to do so.

This week, we sang Psalm 23.  We repeatedly sang, “The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.”   It reminded me that God watches over me, He cares for me, and that He plans for me here in Bismarck.  Nowhere else in Bismarck can remind me of why we moved as much as attending Sunday evening mass on campus.  All around me are students who – without anyone pushing them to attend mass or taking attendance – freely attend mass…some of them daily.

When I ponder this, though, I am reminded that we were not called to minister to the students who attend mass with me. They have a lot ministry for them here already: daily masses, a priest as a chaplain, missionaries from the Catholic faith who provide Bible studies for them, and the sisters who live right down the hill from the very chapel in which I sit for mass.  My huz’s role is complicated and complex as he helps to bring a similar spiritual life experience to the non-Catholic Christian students, faculty, and staff on campus.

Last night, Campus Ministries (one of my huz’s departments) hosted a “Students and Sisters” Thanksgiving meal.  The sisters provided the place; campus ministry staff provided the food.  Fun was had by all.  Prior to the meal, I had a conversation with a sister who is edging toward retirement. She told me of her past roles on campus and her current passions.  As we talked, she shared with me that she will not call Protestants by that name; rather, she refers to non-Catholics as those from other denominations.  I was so moved by her heart for the non-Catholic students on campus and the encouragement that she provided me through that conversation.

Monsignor James Shea, president of University of Mary and a personal friend from our college days, presided over the mass on Sunday and gave the homily.  He appeared burdened by the message as he gave it.  He stressed over and over again that Christ, King of the Universe, desires to be the ruler of hearts, minds, and lives. Choosing to follow Christ’s call on our lives will not be easy, but it will bring order and purpose to our lives.

Following God’s call on our lives to Bismarck, ND, was not easy. Staying in Minneapolis with our friends who had become family to minister together would have been the easy choice.  It might have even felt really good.  But coming to Bismarck was in answer to a clear call to something unique and unusual.  There is a need here, and God chose my huz – well, both of us it often seems – to help with that need. God has provided order and purpose to our lives in this call. It is not easy, and my eyes still often leak. Something this unique and unusual would not be easy.  But it is good.

 

It Felt Like Home

Weddings are a great time to reconnect with friends.  This was especially true this past weekend when my family made a long haul by planes and automobiles  to attend the wedding of two very dear people. Readers of my blog know that my family just went through an “upsetting of the apple cart” transition.  First, both of my children graduated from high school (you can read my thoughts on that here). Next, both of my children left for Baylor University (you can read my thoughts on that here).  While we prepared to take my kids off to college, they helped us pack up our home of nearly twelve years and assisted in our move 400 miles west from Minneapolis, MN, to Bismarck, ND.  You can read about my thoughts pre-move here and my thoughts post-move here and here.

While we have been back to Minneapolis a few times in the past months, we have only seen a handful of our friends on those visits.  This past weekend, we saw many, many of our friends (and missed those we didn’t!).  To call them “friends” does not completely describe them as these people are truly family to us.  When a pastor and family serve, learn, live, and love along with their church, their church becomes their family.  We have grown in our faith together.  We have grown in our understanding of serving those around us together.  We have worked on projects together, have raised children together, and have built supportive relationships.

In the same way that leaving our biological family to attend college, to pursue a great job opportunity, or to follow the man of our dreams is hard, the leaving of the pastor is hard on everyone involved.

The wedding was beautiful.  The reception was fun – seriously fun.  The bride and the groom were joyful and clearly thrilled to be together with so many people whom they love and who love them.  Their families were gracious and generous.  The sermon honored God, and the wedding service itself drew us all into worship.

Side note: I love my new life.  I enjoy my new jobs, and I have an amazing house.  We knew people in Bismarck already, so we had some instant community. Other new friends have reached out to us in ways that make me hope that I have done the same for others. I am so thankful for this because being lonely is so awful.  I am also thankful that my children enjoy Baylor University.  They are in a program that allows them to tailor their college class schedules to their liking in ways that most schools do not.  My husband’s position is challenging and exciting. I have never been more certain that we are exactly where God wants us doing exactly what God prepared for us.  We are all where we should be.  However, none of these truths make it easy to be where we are instead of with our beloved church family.

At the end of reception (yes, we closed down the place along with other “closing” types – you party animals know who you are!), I had a brief conversation with dear man while waiting for the elevator to arrive.  He and his wife, along with several others, are talented musicians at Faith Baptist Church. Along with the worship minister, these talented friends have created a recognizable worship service “sound” that ministers my soul as I worship God with them.  The bride and groom had asked a handful of them to be the wedding musicians.  As they led the congregation in Beautiful by Phil Wickham, my voice blended with voices that have been part of my weekly worship experience for nearly twelve years.  Tears of joy mixed with tears of grief.

The brief conversation with my friend ended as he said, “Tonight felt like home.”

Tears sprung in my eyes, and I quickly tried to wipe them away.

We worshiped God, we sang together, we witnessed the marriage of dear friends, and we celebrated together. I was home – even for just a brief afternoon and evening – and I am so thankful that I was.  We are family even though we will not see each other as often or do the same things together that we have done for years.  But we are family united in our devotion and belief in a God who loved the world enough to send His Son to reunite us all to Him.  And through that, we will be family forever regardless of the distance and experiences between us.

Home has many different meanings to many different people.  And even for me, home has many nuances.  But I can say without a doubt that I was home this weekend, and I love those family members.  As the days go on, we will all get more and more used to this change in how we function as family.  We will change, we will grow, and we will do the good things that God prepared for us to do.  One day, we will be together with Him in eternity, and all of the tears we shed today will be forgotten…because we will finally be home.

Revelation 21:4: He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.

 

In All of It, God is Good

Six weeks ago, our church threw us a going away party. It was an unbelievable experience.  Although my huz has been a youth pastor and a Christian education director prior to this position, Faith Baptist Church was his first full-time senior pastor position. This church took us in, made us family, raised us as a pastor and wife, helped us to raise our children, and loved us.  The worship pastor and a buddy sang a “roasting song” (click here to watch it) for us. We laughed. We cried. Along with the other kind words that were shared that night, this song allowed us to remember the great times and sent us off to our new adventure well.

In the leaving and the sending, God is good.

Almost a month ago, I flew to Texas with my son to catch up with my daughter who had driven there the week before. In a whirlwind trip, we moved them into their dorm rooms, shopped at Target, and bought groceries.  As I drove away, my eyes leaked a lot even though I knew that this new adventure is a great move for them. We already have plans to see them for friends’ wedding in November and again at Thanksgiving.  Even though they are far away, plans to see them seem to make the time go faster.

In the leaving and the going, God is good.

I started a new job before I left for Texas. This new online high school with its twenty students has bolstered my spirits. Something new in the something new has helped me a lot. They started school the Tuesday before Labor Day.  On the same day, I welcomed two classes of freshmen in college who struggle with writing into my classes at the University of Mary.  Most of these students are hard workers who just need a little guidance in their writing.  In their journals, they share their lives with me.

In the arriving, God is good.

On the first day of school, I was tired and wanted to go to bed early.  I had so much to do, and my house was still in chaos (ps: it still is! Moving is really rough!).  The phone rang mid-afternoon, and my huz invited me to join him on the Campus Ministry riverboat cruise on the Missouri River.  I was thrilled to join these college students who love Jesus and want to get to know each other as well as the leadership of this department. There was food, fellowship, and fun.  I skipped the “Get to Know You” Bingo game so that I could make the rounds, fill in squares, and really get to know the kids.  Because several of them had ridden in my car on the way to the cruise, I knew several of their names before getting on the boat with them. Once on the boat, I felt welcomed by them. It is fun to be a part of the huz’s work in this way; it reminds me of being a pastor’s wife. I guess some things never change.

In the new ministries we have, God is good.

The huz has been asked to preach a few Sundays this fall in various churches.  I already miss hearing my man in the pulpit each week even though we have only been in Bismarck for two Sunday services.  I am thankful that God appears to want to continue to use the huz in this way to help churches in our area.

In the new ways we are called to minister, God is good.

One of the new routines in our lives is to attend the Sunday evening Catholic service on campus. A couple hundred students attend the service each week, and it is a good way to stay connected to them.  I see a couple of my own students each week as well. At first, I thought this would be something that I would “just do” as it has not been part of my faith walk to attend Catholic services each week.  However, I am drawn to the contemplative nature of these services.  In the many moments of silence during the service, I feel found.

In the new practices we have discovered, God is good.

My eyes leak – a lot – these days. There is so much new, so much change, and so much we have not found yet. I have decided to attend a women’s retreat this weekend at Crystal Springs Baptist Camp. This is the place where the huz and I met so many years ago. I have not been back since the summer of 2003.  I admitted to the huz last night that I am feeling a bit of anticipation stress about attending. I know a lot of the people who are going, but the 2014 version of Stacy is different than the 2003 version…or even the 1992 version! A lot has happened. I am a different person…well, so are they!  Right?

In the petty concerns of my day, God is good.

My Facebook feed tells me of concerns of others: families facing losses, families in crisis, families who want to adopt children from corrupt countries with corrupt systems, individuals who struggle with mental illness, individuals who need jobs…all of these concerns can overwhelm me even from a distance – what must the concerns be like for those going through them?

In the big concerns of our days, God is good.

Psalm 100:5 – For the LORD is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness to all generations.

Amen.

“Between Worlds” – a Review and a Reflection

This post comes to you from a restaurant in Dallas Love Field Airport after a whirlwind trip to Baylor University to help my kids settle into their first year at university. This trip culminates a summer of my entire family preparing for this very week in our lives. We have packed our entire house as we prepared to move our children to Texas and the rest of our lives to Bismarck, ND, where God has called my huz to take on a very unique position at the University of Mary. When the boy and I left for the airport on Sunday, we closed the door to our house in Minneapolis for the last time.

Between Worlds by Marilyn Gardner speaks to this time in my life even though I am not moving to another country or from another country. I received this book in the mail a couple of weeks ago and devoured it within days. I honestly could not put it down and dreaded when other things (often very time sensitive and pressing things) got in the way of my reading it. The book is an easy read as it is set up as short essays – many former or reworked blog posts on Marilyn’s wonderful blog (communicatingacrossboundariesblog.com) where she posts almost daily about our need to engage with one another on many levels. The essays are chunked together thematically, so one could choose to read a single essay, an entire section, or the entire book (just over 200 pages) in one sitting.

I have known Marilyn since the days (over a decade ago) when our family lived in Beverly, MA, while the huz attended seminary at Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary. Marilyn and her family served alongside our family in a college ministry at our church, but she also ministered to me in ways that I had no idea I needed. Marilyn has five children – the youngest only a year or two older than my girl. Her oldest babysat for my kiddos, and they loved her. Marilyn taught me that parenting was more than how to do things right – it was about doing things the way the child needed. It was easy to see that through her five children as they spread across various ages, and that was so helpful to me.

Facebook – though often a nemesis – brought Marilyn back into my life a few years ago…and it was Marilyn who encouraged me to start this blog. I read her blog daily, and it was a joy to read her book and see common themes united into chapters. Much of the book focuses on experiences based on her life as a third culture kid due to her family serving on the mission field in Pakistan and then as an adult world traveler; however, the concepts of belonging, home, grief, and identity are universal to all readers. This book is part learning for the reader who desires to learn more about the life of those who serve overseas and part personal soul search.

The beauty of Marilyn’s book is that I feel as though I am sitting on her porch as she talks about difficult struggles that, though different in actual content, sound like some of my struggles. It’s not that we are comparing or trying to one up each other – we are friends talking about our feelings, our circumstances, and our tears. Marilyn is honest about her faith, the hurdles her faith faces, and her commitment to believe in the midst of struggle.

As I have lived this summer in preparation for leaving behind all that I have known and loved for over a decade to start a new, unknown (and, yes, exciting) adventure, I have felt the tension in my life that I often feel in Marilyn’s writing. Joy and sadness as well as excitement and dread have been in constant flux with one another. To admit excitement about the new adventure felt like betrayal to the people I leave behind. To express sadness at the loss of friends in our former location felt like I was being apprehensive of the relationships that already exist and will deepen in the new location. These are the very kinds of emotions that Marilyn explores in her book as she describes experiences such as leaving for boarding school or returning to her passport country from one that had captured her heart.

I posted on Facebook earlier this week that I am spending this week “in between.” I do not know if I would have used that phrase prior to reading Between Worlds, but I am ever so grateful to have it in my vocabulary now. I strongly urge readers of my blog to consider reading Marilyn’s book – alone or with a group (Marilyn has created a wonderful group guide as well!) as I am sure that it will touch your heart as it has mine.

As I drove away from Baylor University today, my heart and mind were seriously between worlds. On one hand, I wanted to turn around, load up the kids, drag them with me, and lock them in a closet so that I did not have to let them go. Doesn’t that sound like love?? On the other hand, my heart swelled with gratitude that they could send me away and turn toward this new and exciting chapter in their lives. I have always wanted them to soar into whatever their future holds for them, and they both believe that Baylor University is where that begins. I cannot and will not stand in the way of that while, at the same time, I will be overjoyed when I see them again (yes, Thanksgiving tickets are purchased…and I may go visit them sooner than that!).

My “between worlds” experience will not end until later this week when I finally sleep in my own bed late on Friday night. Perhaps – now that my children are far away and I recognize that I am someone who flits from place to place on whim as well as on call – this week is just part of a “between worlds” continuum. Perhaps the timing of this book and the way its content has touched me is an awakening…to realize that I may often live between worlds and in the tension as well as the joy of that. Perhaps it is a reminder to be “all in” wherever I am while being open to the “what next.”

Whatever the case may be, I am thankful for fellow travelers who bear their soul and publish their thoughts to remind me that I am not alone. So – thank you, Marilyn, for once again ministering to me when I barely knew that I needed it.

ps: I just wanted to interject for a minute that though this post is being published on Wednesday morning, it was written on Tuesday afternoon.