I'm lost.  Yet not.


I have no more paid work, no congregation to teach and grow with.  God is here.  There is a plan somewhere.  But I'm left with no instructions.  Again.


A few years ago, I was living my dream.  I was married to my true mate, retired and living on a boat that traveled the Intracoastal Waterway with land homes in two states for time off of the water with our families.  I was preaching and connected to people that I had met from all over the world.  I was writing steadily, working on new art, feeling at peace and useful, a part of life.


And then it was gone.  He changed, he left.  The savings, insurances, possessions and my sense of connectedness and safety in the world--gone.  It was a dark time of trying to decide whether to stay alive, then rebuilding very, very slowly.  Learning to function, reconnecting with god through the church, finding a way to create income and some self-worth, a new 'normal,' a life.


And its gone.  Again.


It isn't so dark this time.  I know god is all around and there is meaning in all of this.  In a few weeks I will be broke and without insurances, then soon after without a place to live.  There are few jobs and the hiring process is competitive and slow.


I wonder what to do.  I wonder what is next.  I wonder who I am and why I am.


I think I'll go swimming now.

My church is closing.  Its very sad.


This place-- the seven acres of land especially-- its holy space.  As you walk the property, there are thin places where the spirit pops through our reality and draws you into a deeper place.  There a pecan trees covered in spanish moss, a labyrinth surrounded by huge old oaks, a quiet courtyard garden.


And no people who can or will keep this a worshiping community.


Its very sad.

Feeling different yet knowing I am part of Trying to blend in knowing that I stand out Feeling weak and less than knowing that I am strong and special In the end, the only choice: I am who I was made to be.

Several times in the past...

Several times in the past I felt so uncomfortable in myself that I really really listened for answers.  It seemed like the typical teenage angst, or mid-life crisis (does THAT ever end?!).  Yet by listening I was forced to change, pushed out of doing and being what I thought I was supposed to do and be—or worse, what others told me.

By praying, listening, crying, living new information seeped in and I shifted into a new way. 

People near me yelled and pleaded or laughed and mocked.  The foundations of my life until then were broken.  Dark, foggy drifting and reaching for…???

And then a new voice.  My new voice.  A deeper and stronger voice urging me into new places and understandings.  Following the voice, doing the only thing I could do; determined to be as completely me as possible.  Fog lifting, joy and pleasure in the newness and uncertainty.

There is a cycle, and the dark fog rolls in again.  Thin wisps combining to make a haze, then more into a thicker veil hiding the way.  Finally the dark and heavy weight of blindness and confusion.

I only know to keep talking to god and listening for a word, looking for the next step.  It's what we call hope, I guess.  And I do so hope that I am taking a good step, that all around me is, too.

We so deeply yearn to be seen, to be known.  To be heard and understood.

I spent some time with someone who doesn’t think well of me.  He doesn’t know much about me and doesn’t ask about me, but he sure thinks he knows me and that I am wanting.

It’s hurtful.  Part of me wants to stand up and declare my worth.  Pay attention to me!  I am important and valuable!  I am powerful and good and strong!  You awful person how could you not see me!

It’s hurtful.  And I don’t care to be hurt like that any more.  It’s his loss; God knows me, and that is good enough.

Like many preachers, I have only a couple of basic sermons and they come from my understanding of god and creation.  God created everything and looked around and said, ‘This is good!’  I am part of everything so god created me and must have said, ‘This is good!  The best Patricia ever!’

…and I use so much of this creation, this life that god made, trying to believe in my goodness.

Sometimes I am       

Sometimes I’m not

Which is which

I forgot

Feeling different

Feeling different

            yet knowing I am part of

Trying to blend in

            knowing that I stand out

Feeling weak and less than

            knowing that I am strong and special

In the end, the only choice

            I am who I was made to be

My Story, Pt. 2

One Friday evening, at home after a long week, I found myself crawling from my bed to the kitchen looking for anything with alcohol.  With no prior knowledge of alcoholism or recovery programs, I dialed the operator and said I needed help.  Instead of 911, I was connected to the local Alcoholics Anonymous hotline.  After explaining to the nice gentleman on the other end of the line that I couldn’t go to a meeting tonight because I was exhausted from my important work week, he laughed and said he’d meet me the next day at a meeting—and then he hung up!  On ME!  I was so angry that I didn’t drink any more that night and I showed up at the meeting the next day just to show him who was in charge.

Those of you who are familiar with Twelve Step programs can imagine the ups and down down downs of getting and staying sober.  That something ‘out there’ became a Higher Power and then God.  I continued to talk (pray?), tried to listen, mostly did the next thing that seemed right and didn’t drink.

One of the slogans is “Fake it ‘til you make it” and I faked it for years.  Sober, involved.  And terrified.

I faked my way into a relationship with a man who was deeply involved with his church, a 1928 Prayer Book Episcopal church with gorgeous stained glass, glorious music, chanting, incense, elaborate ceremony and vestments…  I was hooked.  No more relationship but oh, learning about church and Jesus and God was wonderful.

Not that I really believed any of it (still faking it).  But Christianity connected me to a larger and acceptable community; gave me some new rules to structure a better life and somehow I felt safer.  And so I was baptized, confirmed, and I am now an Episcopal priest (who now believes and isn’t faking much of anything any more).

When I try to figure out how it all happened, my conclusion is “God got me.”

Hey folks!  Several of you have been emailing in response to these blogs. You can respond to these blogs on the blog site.  Click on comments.  That way others can see your thoughts and maybe we can have a conversation.

My Story, pt. 1

I don’t remember a time when I felt safe.  The rules seemed to shift continually and I remember searching for quiet hidden places.

And I remember talking/thinking to whatever/whoever ‘out there’ who could love me and teach me.  I just knew that there was somehow a creator-lover-something beyond what I experienced.

It took a lot of hard years to name God and to begin a relationship of listening and praying.  I was a lost soul (we were called hippies way back then…).   I didn’t know much about right or wrong except by instinct and I tried anything that looked remotely interesting.  Addiction, mostly to (red) wine finally conquered any sense that I had of being in control of my life.

People from my past often describe me as adventurous and courageous.  I traveled a lot, left Ohio and landed in the San Francisco Bay area, and made a financial success of a career in insurance and finance. And I learned to drink better (red) wines in the name of good client relations.

My life looked good—a house in a wealthy suburb, a successful career, nice car, world travel.  Mostly, though, what I remember is fear and emptiness and hopelessness.

And still I ‘talked’ or pleaded to the great whatever that was ‘out there.’

P.S. Hey folks!  Several of you have been emailing in response to these blogs. You can respond to these blogs on the blog site.  Click on comments.  That way others can see your thoughts and maybe we can have a conversation. 

May 6

May 6, 2012

Yesterday was World Labyrinth Day.  I appreciate and enjoy walking a labyrinth, but a celebration is NOT something that would attract my attention—or attendance.  Yet there I was, all day, at the event at St. Francis.

It was a holy and perfect day…  watching church members enjoying the results of their planning and hard work, noticing the changes in them as they’ve grown this past year, walking and talking with a colleague, commandeering a rocking chair in the shade.  Hawks nesting high up in a tree.  Laughter.  Silence.  Prayer.  Sunshine.  Blooming lilies orange and white, colorful flowers against green foliage, trees lush with leaves and wildlife.

The best part of ministry is observing and sharing what I see—watching as others learn to observe and share.  God/Holy Spirit moving, guiding, shaping.

April

I don’t know where my soul is.

I don’t know where my home is.

I find my soul and home in Christ.  Sometimes.  And then I lose them again.

I’m a human person and I can’t imagine reaching the perfection of truly loving everyone else as much as I love myself.  We seem to be made self-centered, and try to overcome the self-interest by following Christ’s example of all-accepting love.

There have been times when I have felt almost self-less.  With one other person.  With the intimacy that comes of relationship.  It is the give and take of relationship that takes us out of ourselves and into the love of god.

Life is all about relationship.  We are made to be with others.

As much as I love my introverted self, I can’t be whole without others.  Sure, I can call myself an observer, a people-watcher.  But I need to interact.

God made my and declared that creation ‘good.’  The first relationship—creator and created.

There needs to be beauty.  There is a rhythm and balance in creation—light/dark, order/chaos.

I am a creator.  A balancer.  I seek order (although not the kind of order that is boxed and stagnant.  Those who know me, know that I don’t just think outside the box—I don’t even know there IS a box!).  But there is order everywhere, and I don’t think god meant it to be defined and organized into stagnation.  There is order in change and movement that is beautiful beyond something fixed in time or place. 

I create and balance to bring people into God.  Into discovery of their goodness and worth.  Into knowing, KNOWING they were created in love and are always loved.

Someone told me recently that they couldn’t talk to others about Christ.  It was too personal, too overwhelming, too emotional.

Too emotional?!  Of course it's emotional!  You tell me that Jesus saved you.  That Christ is everything to you.  That Christ is LIFE.

How can emotion be inappropriate?!

Laugh.  Cry.  Dance and sing.

FEEL.  Take it.  Pass it on.  LOVE unconditionally.

Be at peace.

Beginning of March

March 1, 2012

The world makes me smile—and cry.  Seems like I’ve always been looking for the ‘something’ that gives it all meaning.  Or more honestly, that gives me meaning and worth.

God is what/who I call that ‘something’ and I’m startled to find myself not just a worshiping Christian, but a clergy person.  Amazing grace!?

My story is simple and typical, only the details are completely my own.  We all search and struggle in many ways.  People like me reach for answers that are probably unknowable.  I call out to God as the place of answers, or at least the place where I will find complete acceptance of myself and the way things are. And despite or because of all of my questions and doubts, I have realized that I do have faith in that God.

I write here hoping to find others who have faith and doubts, and who enjoy exploring ideas.  I don’t believe there is a right or wrong—we each must find our own way based on our understanding and experience.  But I’m tired of doing it alone, so I hope you’ll join me in the conversation.

March 7, 2012

I’m too busy.  I’m bored.  I’m tired.  I don’t have anything to do.  I’m lonely but I want to be alone.  All in all, it’s not a great day and I don’t have the energy or focus to change my attitude.  Sigh.  Could it maybe be okay to grump and let time pass? 

March 11, 2012

Daylight savings time ended.  I didn’t expect many people in church today, but there they were and it was good.  The people here have grown and changed in the year I’ve been with them.  There is a solid, quiet faith that is visceral—you can feel it when you get out of your car.  The trees are budding, birds are chirping and there is a stillness that can be felt beyond the typical neighborhood sounds.

This is holy ground.  I forget that in the rush of working and doing.  And it catches me every time.  Holy ground.  Be still and know that I am God.

A Prayer

in silence

you watched,

you waited,

you yearned

    until your heart

    could break no more

so you came to us . . .

in a stable

where no one noticed you;

by a well

where you welcomed the outsider;

on a hillside

where you fed hungry souls;

on a cross when you died for us

        in love,

        you came to us.

in silence

we watch,

we wait,

we yearn.