tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49752052649333655002024-03-13T08:43:18.045-05:00Reverential Musings Musings of a woman, wife, and mother, finding her way in this broken and beautiful world.revhipchickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02219279071342600887noreply@blogger.comBlogger257125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4975205264933365500.post-56999281188498563842018-09-30T09:10:00.003-05:002018-09-30T09:10:27.279-05:00Esther...my non-political sermon after a triggering week<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.32; margin-bottom: 15pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Before we jump to today’s reading, I want to remind you of the beginning of Esther’s story, it’s simply not fair to jump to the end without knowing or understanding what happened in the beginning.</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The story of Esther is a story for times such as these...Before we get to Esther we first need to talk about King Xerxes and Queen Vashti. Some translations refer to King </span><span style="color: #010000; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ahasuerus </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">while others refer to King Xerxes and since Xerxes is easier to pronounce and the king referenced in The Message, that is the king I’ll be using today. King Xerxes ruled over a huge territory, 127 provinces from India to Ethiopia. Just as many leaders with great kingdoms and prowess, he longed to show off for the other leaders so he held a week long party with all kinds of leaders and generals.Queen Vashti was in charge of keeping the women entertained while King Xerxes and the men ate and drank to no end. After much drinking and excess, King Xerxes called out to have Queen Vashti, a ravishingly beautiful woman, come and show herself to the king and his men.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">The story goes that he wanted to show off wearing only her crown...King Xerxes wanted his beautiful and loving wife to parade around in her crown so all the men would know of King Xerxes prowess and be in awe of his beautiful wife. From what we know of how women were treated in the ancient near east as well as the abhorrent effects of drinking men...this was a dangerous set up for Queen Vashti no matter what decision she made. Parading naked before a room of drunken and boisterous men while her husband weaves tales of her beauty and her body...talk about being put in a dangerous situation…</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Queen Vashti dangerously refused. Perhaps she was afraid of what could happen to her in that room. Perhaps she was afraid that if she walked through the room naked, later King Xerxes would use it against her after he sobered up, telling her that was not the way a Queen should behave or in a rage of jealousy accuse her of looking to find another lover...the list of possibilities is endless.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Queen Vashti dangerously refused. It was dangerous because she did not obey her husband. It did not matter than he was drunk, it did not matter that it was a dangerous situation for her to walk through a crowd of drunken men wearing only her crown. It only mattered that she did not obey.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">It was most dangerous because her husband the powerful King Xerxes was taunted by the men who had wanted to see his wife in all of her glory. They snickered whispered loudly about her setting a precedent for women all over the kingdom to disobey their husbands. They shouted that this was not only about the King’s power in his household, it was about theirs and how if the Queen did not obey her husband then other women all over the kingdom would not obey their husbands. The men called for Queen Vashti to be put down...literally. King Xerxes cowered before their demands...showing his true power. King Xerxes banished Queen Vashti from the kingdom, in essence he cowered to the whims of his men and executed his beloved and beautiful queen.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">A King cannot be without a queen for long so he called for all the beautiful virgins of the kingdom to submit themselves for the opportunity to become queen.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Our heroine does not want to present herself but her Uncle Mordecai tells her this is her time and urges her to do so. Esther concedes and ends up winning the crown. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Can you imagine why Esther is afraid? She has at least two very good reasons to be afraid and I think many more...first of all, she has seen what happens when a queen says no to her king. She, like every other girl and woman in the kingdom, learned that to say no...whatever your reason may be, would result in death. As a queen, one would never know what tasks she would be expected to perform. At least as a regular wife, she knew the expectations...love your husband, feed him well, provide for your household however you can and bear children. But a queen’s life is more complicated...not only must one take care of her husband and bear children, she had to entertain guests from around the world and ensure their happiness, and always, without fail obey the king.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Secondly, Esther was Jewish. The Jewish people’s role in society was still on the edges. Her Uncle Mordecai wanted her as queen to help protect the Jewish people as there were rumblings from other kingsmen of an attempt to finally do away with the Jewish people. Uncle Mordecai wasn’t trying to convince Esther to become queen because it would be a good and safe choice for her but that it is a time in which a brave Jewish queen was needed.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Eventually Esther agreed to be prepared for becoming a queen, her beauty and demure intelligence shone through and she transformed from a young woman into a queen.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">As she became used to her role, those rumblings of undoing the Jewish people became louder and began to shake within her and within Uncle Mordecai. Mordecai and Esther knew that the man who wanted the Jewish people dead was King Xerxes’ right hand man, Haman. Uncle Mordecai and Queen Esther came up with a plan. Queen Esther’s fear for her people overtook the fear for her life.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">In that time, a queen did not speak or call to her husband unless she was spoken to or called for first. She was terrified but Uncle Mordecai reminded her that she was prepared for a time such a this...a time to be brave to speak even as her voice shakes. And so she did.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">The first time, she invited her husband, King Xerxes and Haman to dine with her, under the guise of showing her love as a good wife and appealing to her king through his stomach...that has always been the way, hasn’t it? That dinner was a success! The food was wonderful, she was charming, and King Xerxes and Haman were greatly impressed.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 11pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">From the Message: 7 1-2 </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">So the king and Haman went to dinner with Queen Esther. At this second dinner, while they were drinking wine the king again asked, “Queen Esther, what would you like? Half of my kingdom! Just ask and it’s yours.”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">3 </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Queen Esther answered, “If I have found favor in your eyes, O King, and if it please the king, give me my life, and give my people their lives.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">4 </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“We’ve been sold, I and my people, to be destroyed—sold to be massacred, eliminated. If we had just been sold off into slavery, I wouldn’t even have brought it up; our troubles wouldn’t have been worth bothering the king over.”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">5 </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">King Xerxes exploded, “Who? Where is he? This is monstrous!”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">6 </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“An enemy. An adversary. This evil Haman,” said Esther.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Haman was terror-stricken before the king and queen.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">7-8 </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">The king, raging, left his wine and stalked out into the palace </span><span style="color: black;"><a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Esther+7&version=MSG#"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">garden</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Haman stood there pleading with Queen Esther for his life—he could see that the king was finished with him and that he was doomed. As the king came back from the palace garden into the banquet hall, Haman was groveling at the couch on which Esther reclined. The king roared out, “Will he even molest the queen while I’m just around the corner?”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">When that word left the king’s mouth, all the blood drained from Haman’s face.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">9 </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Harbona, one of the eunuchs attending the king, spoke up: “Look over there! There’s the gallows that Haman had built for Mordecai, who saved the king’s life. It’s right next to Haman’s house—seventy-five feet high!”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">The king said, “Hang him on it!”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">10 </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">So Haman was hanged on the very gallows that he had built for Mordecai. And the king’s hot anger cooled.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">After the second dinner, Haman’s plan for the Jewish people was over. It wasn’t over because it had been discovered that he wanted death to all of Jewish people but because King Xerxes discovered that his wife was Jewish and he had come to love her and thus wanted to protect and care for her.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Queen Esther’s story has many lessons for us, if you go and reread the story you’ll see that I’ve left out quite a bit but I wanted you to hear the story from Queen Esther’s side rather than getting caught up in the drama of men. Queen Vashti and Queen Esther are more than footnotes to a dramatic story...they hold truths and inspiration for women and men to this very day.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">The one truth I want you to hear this morning is that we were made for times such as these...perhaps you are just a girl, or just a boy, just a kid, or just a person without power and privilege but you too must speak out even though your voice may be shaking. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">We live in a crazy time...perhaps all the times of the world have been crazy and it just feels especially so because it it our time. Perhaps you are a person with power and privilege...this is your time as well.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">We live in a time in which we get to advocate for justice. We get to advocate for systematic changes to make the world a better place not just for some but for all people. We may not always agree on the methods but we must continue to speak with one another even when our voices shake...not so that someone will end up hung from a tower but so that people without power and privilege do not continue to be stepped on and ignored.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">God has prepared us for a time such as this. Amen.</span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">so what do you think? i'd love to "hear" your thoughts...</div>revhipchickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02219279071342600887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4975205264933365500.post-8046824452749973132017-05-28T09:09:00.002-05:002017-05-28T17:57:56.661-05:00Sermon on Luke 24: 44-56This morning I have the honor of preaching at my Mentor's church while she take a well earned break. I'd be lying if I wasn't nervous. Thankfully, I live with an amazing editor so that helps.<br />
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I'm using the first story from Peter Rollin's The Ortodox Heretic and Other Impossible Tales as an illustration. It didn't seem right to type it into my sermon. The stripped down version is that a man is put on trial for being a Christian. He has all the Christian trappings: regularly attends church, prays, reads scriptures and inspirational devotions, he even writes his own! Yet, he is free to go because there is no evidence that he is living as Christ and the Disciples did, he poses no threat to the status quo. I highly recommend the book. It's filled with wonderful and challenging tales, Rollins' uses the book to state that the scriptures and all our religiosity have no meaning unless we put those words and beliefs into action.<br />
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<span style="color: red;">Update: I left the book at home!!! Luckily I was able to download it in time for the service!</span><br />
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<b>Luke 24:44-56</b><br />
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Then he said to them, ‘These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you—that everything written about me in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled.’ Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures, and he said to them, ‘Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things. And see, I am sending upon you what my Father promised; so stay here in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high.’<br />
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Then he led them out as far as Bethany, and, lifting up his hands, he blessed them. While he was blessing them, he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven. And they worshipped him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy; and they were continually in the temple blessing God.<br />
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Today we celebrate and honor the Ascension of Jesus, this moment in which he openly states that he is the Messiah, the Savior. Jesus proclaims that he has fulfilled the scriptures. However, while he has fulfilled the scriptures there is more work to be done. Jesus ordered the disciples to gather in Jerusalem to wait because he was going to send them power from on high.<br />
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Close your eyes. Seriously. Close your eyes and try to envision yourself as one of the disciples there with Jesus. (wait a few seconds)<br />
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Jesus says to you, "You can see now how it is written that the Messiah suffers, rises from the dead on the third day, and then a total life-change through the forgiveness of sins is proclaimed in his name to all nations - starting from here, from Jerusalem! You're the first to hear and see it. You're the witnesses. What comes next is very important: I am sending what my Father promised to you, so stay here in the city until he arrives, until you're equipped with power from on high." We watch in disbelief as Jesus holds out his hands, blessing us, and then floating into the sky until we can see him no longer.<br />
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Did you feel it? Did you sense it? What stood out to you? Really, anyone? Did anything stand out to you?<br />
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When I imagine it, I hear those last words ringing repeatedly, “…until you’re equipped with power from on high.” Equipped, if one is being equipped then one is being prepared to fulfill a task. While this Ascension might be the end of Jesus’ earthly work it was just the beginning for the disciples and for us.<br />
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The good news is that Jesus didn’t leave them to their own devices to do his work. Nor has He left us to our own devices, to try to figure out what needs to be done here on Earth. Jesus has given us the Holy Spirit to guide us and give us strength and courage.<br />
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Jesus laid out a vision for us, to preach repentance and the forgiveness of sins to all nations. Jesus wasn’t interested in keeping the Gospel and love of God to a small sect. He wanted the disciples, and now us, to take it to the world. So what does that look like?<br />
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Does that mean we should be holding signs on street corners and shouting “God loves you” at the top of our lungs? Maybe, prophets have been asked to do some crazy things. Or maybe that is not our call.<br />
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At Vista Grande in the Springs, we’ve been reading a little book by Peter Rollins called The Orthodox Heretic and Other Impossible Tales. I hope you don’t mind me reading the first story from it to you, don’t worry, it’s short.<br />
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Ouch! That story stung…I’ve read it several times now. Each time, I wonder, what would I have to do to live more fully like Jesus? What would it look like to challenge the status quo and have one’s life be a sign of God’s work in this world?<br />
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I believe that this is the equipping Jesus was talking about on that day he ascended. Jesus has sent us the Holy Spirit so that we could continue what he had begun on earth. He was asking that we continue in his work of healing, reaching out to the lost, standing up against those who are taking advantage of the powerless, preaching love and grace. It’s more than words; it’s the actions we take once we have experienced that life changing love of God. It doesn’t mean we’re perfect.<br />
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It means that we listen to that voice in our head that says to pull over and give someone walking in the rain a ride. Or when we’re in line at the grocery store and the person in front of us starts putting things back because they didn’t have quite enough, so we pay the rest. Or maybe it’s volunteering at the food pantry or riding with Bikers against Child Abuse, or giving your last $5 to the weather beaten homeless person walking across the street.<br />
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We live in a society that says we should fear our neighbors but our faith and spiritual guide says to love our neighbor. It means being vulnerable and helping others. Did you know there are cities in which feeding the homeless is a crime? Some places it is illegal to sleep outside. In Colorado Springs they have tried to make sitting on certain sidewalks a crime.<br />
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In Philadelphia - the city of brotherly love - it was illegal to help the homeless. But a church led by <a href="http://www.thesimpleway.org/" target="_blank">Shane Clairborne</a> started having “all night church services” in order to avoid getting arrested by the authorities. They were able to create a safe space for homeless people to stay and sleep and maybe experience the love of God.<br />
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You have to be vulnerable and it can be dangerous. Look at those three men in Portland, Oregon. Someone was berating and threatening two Muslim women on a train. Three men stepped in help protect women they did not know. They only knew that a racist, deranged man was harming them. Micah David-Cole Fletcher, 21, was severely injured. Taliesin Namkai-Meche, 23, and Ricky John Best, 53 were both killed. They tried to protect two women they did not know. I can only imagine they would have done the same even knowing the outcome.<br />
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I don’t know their faith backgrounds, I’m not sure it matters. This is the kind of act that Jesus would have performed. I hope it is something I would have done also. Even knowing the outcome.<br />
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Tomorrow is Memorial Day, the day in which we remember and honor those women and men who gave their lives to protect our nation, to ensure our freedom. What is our freedom for? What are we free from? I believe that the freedom our fallen soldiers sought to give us, was freedom to be the best nation we can be, free to worship or not to worship, freedom to vote with our intellect and our hearts whether that is for Republicans, Democrats, or some other party. Jesus has declared us free as well.<br />
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We have been freed from societal expectations that try to tell us who we are or who we can be. Jesus freed us to be the Good Samaritan. To be like the three men in Portland, stepping in when someone is harming another. He freed us to give the rain soaked man a ride, to offer money to the pan-handler, to pay for someone’s groceries or electric bill. He freed us to be generous and gracious, not only when it is easy, like bringing canned goods to the food pantry. But also when there is outside pressure to NOT help, like giving money to the man with the cardboard sign, because “he’s only going to use it for drugs”.<br />
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Like the disciples, He gave us the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit that is the voice in the back of our head, whispering to us that someone needs help. The Holy Spirit that is with us when we need to be helpful, but we will need to show our underbelly and be vulnerable. <br />
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The Holy Spirit that is with us in the face of great danger. Who is with us when we offer a ride to the woman with no shoes. And even when we need to be those three men on the bus. <br />
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We have been freed to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with our God. Amen.<br />
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Benediction: Let us listen to the Holy Spirit, may we have courage and strength so that we may do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with our God. Amen.<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">so what do you think? i'd love to "hear" your thoughts...</div>revhipchickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02219279071342600887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4975205264933365500.post-40585872245902936112017-05-13T18:12:00.003-05:002017-05-13T18:12:44.366-05:00Cancer bluesMost days I feel really positive and good. Today is not one of those days. Today is one of those days in which I've been thinking about having my lymph nodes removed and the risk of lymphodema in my legs. Dr. Gyn/Onc seemed more worried about this side effect than the actual cancer. I don't want to go there but sometimes those images of log tree legs, remembering the pain from the swelling in my legs when I was pregnant, and imagining the drains being stuck in my body for a week or more, well it makes my skin crawl.<br />
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I know there will be good days and bad days. I try to keep the bad days from my family and friends. I know they are stressed too.<br />
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I feel like we are one of those families in which something is always going on and people start to pull away wondering WTF is wrong with them!<br />
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I'm used to being the care taker, not the one receiving care.<br />
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I have to find a new normal and that won't happen until after the surgery. So I need an interim normal for the time being.<br />
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Interim normal needs to include yoga, prayer, and writing. Interim normal needs to include more plants in my diet, less red meat, and more plants in my diet. Interim normal needs some laughter and good times with friends and family.<div class="blogger-post-footer">so what do you think? i'd love to "hear" your thoughts...</div>revhipchickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02219279071342600887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4975205264933365500.post-29711084994338983032017-05-09T09:50:00.001-05:002017-05-09T09:50:55.400-05:00Cancer and unicornsI wish I could remember where I found this prayer, it gives me strength and courage. <br />
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Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers,<br />
but to be fearless in facing them.<br />
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Let me know beg for the stilling of my pain,<br />
but for the heart to conquer it.<br />
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Let me not crave in anxious fear to be saved,<br />
but hope for the patience to win my freedom.<br />
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Grant me that I may not be a coward,<br />
feeling your mercy in my success alone;<br />
but let me find the grasp of your hand in my failure.<br />
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Written by Rabindranath Tagore<br />
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It turns out I have actual cancer. In the tiniest of ways I am concerned but overall I am very positive about kicking some cancer ass. I think it has helped going through the precancerous stuff and emotions. I now know that I can get through the surgery. I know what I face and that I am surrounded by people who love and care for me and will help me through this.<br />
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A few months ago I had a "unicorn party" for my staff because things had been rough in the office and most folks had personal stuff going on as well. Everyone loved it. This weekend I announced the cancer status on Facebook, one of my friends told me I'm a badass unicorn and will kick cancer's ass. I am embracing the unicorn within and going to use my magical horn to knock this cancer out of my system!<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">so what do you think? i'd love to "hear" your thoughts...</div>revhipchickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02219279071342600887noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4975205264933365500.post-66521960490560385402017-03-25T09:45:00.002-05:002017-03-25T09:45:27.112-05:00Processing Vulval Intraepithelial Neoplasia 3 (VIN 3)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Having a precancerous condition (VIN 3)on my vulva is a strange phenomena. It's a rare so most people aren't aware of it, I certainly wasn't. And let's face it, people rarely talk about women's anatomy such as clitoris, vulva, labia, etc. We focus on breasts and vaginas, usually with odd nicknames rather than actual labels. My personal preference for vagina is "hoo-hah." It's cute with a punch of power and why can't my vagina be cute and powerful? It may not be cute after surgery but I can still pretend.<br />
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A handful of family and friends, and YOU, know about my condition. I've been wondering, do I talk about it? Do I wait until I schedule my surgery (the scheduler wasn't in yesterday due to the blizzard on her side of town), after the surgery and my results are in? Or do I keep it to myself and those who already know? At first I thought if this was breast cancer that would be an easy answer but I don't think that is true either. I imagine that with any illness or disease one faces those same questions. You don't want to burden anyone, you don't want to worry anyone, but you do want support. You also don't want to keep it hidden in case it's worse than they initially thought.<br />
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I'm not sure how I feel or what to do. I'm in this odd place of near-disbelief. Part of me is relieved. This is related to the HPV virus. This means that it's not hereditary (except the piece that says, I likely have an underlying autoimmune issue that allowed the HPV to develop) which is great! It's not like something within me was unleashed and I got cancer. It's that I caught a virus and got the beginnings of cancer. It also means my girls don't need to worry about it (thank goodness for the HPV vaccine!).<br />
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Yet, I am afraid that there might be real cancer. The affected area is larger than they first thought. The surgeon said he didn't think there would be actual cancer in the rest of the area but they will send it to the lab to be sure. If there is then we'll go back in to remove more tissue and my lymph nodes and see if there needs to be radiation or chemo. On one hand I want to believe him. On the other hand, I previously heard "I'm sure it's nothing but we'll go ahead and biopsy it."<br />
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When Valerie was a baby with some monumentally stubborn jaundice, he doctor said, "I'm sure tomorrow's test will be better" and "It never gets this high" until she was readmitted. Before the next to last blood test she said "I'm not telling you, it won't be worse. Let's just wait and see." Thankfully, at the scare point her levels started coming down. I worry more when told not to worry. I guess, I have some trust issues.<br />
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Through this rambling, I've decided to talk about it. All the readings say it's becoming more prevalent so people need to be aware. Sex should NOT be painful--if it is, go to the doctor. For quite some time, I've had an area in which would often become irritated during sex. I didn't think anything of it. It wasn't the kind of pain that made me cry or stop having sex, but it did make things uncomfortable. That wasn't normal. Apparently, itching is a symptom as well. Thankfully, I didn't have the kind of itching I've read about but there was some a few months ago. I had a sore spot that went from being sore during/after sex to being sore all the time. I finally took a look (used my cell to take a picture and prayed that I didn't accidentally upload it to Facebook!) and discovered a purplish brown spot on my labia near my sore area, that is what they biopsied. The OB/GYN thought it was simply a varicose vein (gross!) on my labia but biopsied it anyway. I was prepared to ask and push if she wasn't going to suggest it. Don't worry about looking like a nut job, you have to advocate and take care of yourself.<br />
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I'm scared of being a hypochondriac so I often second guess myself. I definitely need to stop doing that. Several years ago I was having heart palpitations and assumed it was related to anxiety because it was during midterms. Luckily, I went to the doctor for a sinus infection and they didn't let me leave until I had a Holter monitor. I then went through lots of testing and they put me on meds to help. I now avoid an abundance of caffeine and my heart is healthy. My doctor told me that if it had been an anxiety attack I would have thought I was dying. Because I wasn't freaking out was a good indication, it wasn't anxiety.<br />
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Anyway...here's a diagram of what they'll be removing<br />
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I appreciate having this place to write and process. I question myself why I choose to do it online in a public forum. I think it's because maybe there will be someone else who stumbles to my blog and wants to talk, wants to process with me. Thanks for "listening."</div>
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">so what do you think? i'd love to "hear" your thoughts...</div>revhipchickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02219279071342600887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4975205264933365500.post-10976367175169477532017-03-13T08:46:00.001-05:002017-03-13T08:46:46.697-05:00Pre-CIt started with a sore, a lesion, in the most unpleasant of places. I finally called the ob/gyn for an appointment.<br />
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At the appointment, she told me it wasn't anything to worry about. She was sure it was a varicose vein. Gross! Who knew you could get varicose veins in your vaginal area? Certainly not I! All the same I was relieved. She took the biopsy just in case. I left my appointment gently chastising myself for being a hypochondriac and going to the worst case scenario of the big C.<br />
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About two weeks ago she called with my results. I had just gotten out of court and was checking messages. I got a little nervous when she wanted me to call her but then I realized that if it was major they'd have me come in. So I sat in my car and called.<br />
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"They found precancerous cells, we're going to refer you to Dr. X. He'll cut until there are clean margins. His office will call you in a few days."<br />
"Oh, okay."<br />
"Do you have any questions?"<br />
"Not right now."<br />
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In my brain the "pre" dropped off. All I heard was cancer. I had been relieved to be wrong the week earlier. And now it was precancerous.<br />
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I've had a bit more time to process so I'm feeling pretty good. I've gotten to the place where I don't think about it every day. It helped when my pap smear came back clear. It also helped to learn the actual name of my condition, vulvar intraepithelial neoplasia or VIN III. I've laughed quite a bit about finding one of the most obscure conditions to get--leave it to me! See, I am special!<br />
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I see the gynecologic oncologist next week. I am nervous about it. I'm scared it will be multi-focal (more than one spot). I'm scared of the pain. I'm scared they will find the big C in other places. But I'm also hopeful. I'm hopeful it will just be one small spot. I'm hopeful that all will be well. I'm hopeful that he'll take more time to explain the process and what's going on. I'm hopeful my ears will be listening and my brain will connect the sound waves. Thankfully, Joel is going with me as well, so I will have a second set of ears and a second brain to help make sense of it all.<div class="blogger-post-footer">so what do you think? i'd love to "hear" your thoughts...</div>revhipchickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02219279071342600887noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4975205264933365500.post-49582110242806664652017-03-08T07:41:00.001-06:002017-03-08T07:41:56.176-06:00The strangest dream"Last night I had the strangest dream..." is something my husband hears a lot. "Can I share it with you?" is next. Depending on his mood and where he is in his stage of getting ready he may say yes or no.<br />
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Since I'd really prefer to process this strangest dream then the question is really for you. If your answer is yes then by all means keep reading! If no, then move along but I hope you will come back another day!<br />
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The dream was much like an alternate universe. In this dream my eldest daughter was 3 or 4. Her biological donor (sorry, father won't come out) came back into her life. (I was actually thrilled, him being healthy and actually being a father has been something I wanted for her for a very long time--she's now 21 and I don't see it happening. Alas, I digress.) She was spending the weekend with her Auntie (his sister) and I was having a strange church thing. We had discovered that Subway created a machine that would hold a person, magically adjusting to each new person, give them delightful nourishment, and then kill them so that their organs could be harvested and shared. It was a beautiful sacrifice for those who were facing extreme illnesses.<br />
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We borrowed 3 of these machines and offered it to the congregation. Suddenly everyone wanted to die and give their sacrifice in the name of God and love. I think 2 or 3 people had gone through this and it was my turn to sit in the machine and then sacrifice myself. But while I sat there, I realized that this was not quite what I thought. I realized that God wanted us to live...to really live! That that was our sacrifice to be made. After feeling torn for my congregation and what they would think, I got out and tried to explain myself and explain how God wants us to live when my sister-in-law burst in with my child. She was appalled and going to call child welfare on me and have my daughter taken away. She ran out the door. Her husband stayed and taunted me and my congregation. During the chaos, 2 or 3 more people ran into the Subway machines and killed themselves. I was a nervous wreck. I had somehow been duped into confusing death for hope and life and led my congregation down this awful trap. I had to fix it! I also had to keep my child safe. I began to worry about the families of the people who had died in the machines, and how would I do so many funerals and when? Wouldn't it be disrespectful to do one big funeral? Would I get sued? Omg! I was going to be blamed for all of this! And then a foster child of my sister in law, jumped into one of the machines and died! My life was ruined! I was a failure!<br />
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At this point the right wing group that was sharing our church building came in and started singing and singing that I was from the devil and leading people to hell. I tried to explain what had happened and how wrong I was. I started smashing the machines, taking apart the awful decor of the church which had turned red and black. As I smashed the stuff to bits they turned white but there was something off still. In the destruction, I noticed there was no love and without love, it was not a part of God. I realized that I was not completely forsaken but God had not given up on me! God was still within me but needed me to wake up and fully understand love (in the dream not in real life) and that this right wing pastor was really the devil. So I began to cast him out with prayers of love, arms raised and hands open to him. As the actual devil was getting cast out the room brightened with the love of God and turned sparkling white and then whenever doubt came back in or someone else screamed at me, then it would darken and turn to red and black again. The singing, dancing, destruction, and redemption went on for some time like a bad high school musical with the intensity of a evangelistic mega church altar call.<br />
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I think I was so exhausted in the dream that I woke myself up.<br />
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I woke up to the realization and beautiful feeling that I was not lost, I would never be lost to God, and that no one, no matter what they've done is lost to the redemptive power of God's love.<br />
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I was also grateful, this was just a damned weird dream!<div class="blogger-post-footer">so what do you think? i'd love to "hear" your thoughts...</div>revhipchickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02219279071342600887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4975205264933365500.post-86617172749518820482017-03-01T08:15:00.002-06:002017-03-01T08:15:53.590-06:00Hope, Beauty, and KindnessThis morning as I was scrolling through Facebook, my friend Terri posted beautiful pictures of her with some folks from her congregation ceremoniously burning ashes for Lent. I asked her to share her liturgy and she did. As I read through the beautiful and poignant liturgy my heart swelled with excitement and joy. I realized that it is completely within the realm of possibility that next Lenten season I could be ceremoniously burning ashes with my congregation using her liturgy!<br />
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My first Lent as a full-time pastor in the UMC, I knew I wanted to burn my own ashes. I took the palms from the year before (thankfully the previous pastor had kept a stash), took them outside of the church with a bucket of water (safety first!) and big metal bowl to burn them in. I sat down crossed legged with the bowl in front of me, said a prayer, put the palms in the bowl and lit them on fire. They smoked....they smoked a lot. I started coughing and fanning the smoke away as I worked to stand up. Once I had stood up, the Sheriff pulled into the parking lot. Thankfully, he was one of my congregants and was curious about what I was doing. I explained to him and we joked about it being quite a site to see. The smell didn't help matters either.<br />
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He shared a story with me about a previous pastor who had burned their own ashes but whatever liquid they mix it with ended up stinging and burning those who received the ashes. I made sure to research how to properly mix the ashes. I wish I would have researched how to properly burn the ashes! Each Lent I remember this little tale and it makes me smile, it brings a dose of joy to my heart.<br />
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This Lenten season there is a lot wrong with the world (imho); perhaps no more than previous years but it is especially difficult for me at this time. My only response, my only good thought is that in order not to be brought down by despair I must actively seeks out hope and beauty. I must intentionally act in kindness towards others and myself. It does my rebellious soul good.<br />
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I hope to post pictures of the beauty I find. My intention is that I will do this often, they may be pictures with or without words.<br />
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This is the beauty I was struck by yesterday on my way to work. I had to stop and pull over so I could get a picture. It doesn't do justice to what my actual eyes witnessed but it comes close enough. I am truly lucky to live in the midst of such grand beauty.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEWabMUy4AvfuLo4_D8G-fIbKrhLoeFPcgKeAB5XrRrx8WUHDu-Vy_dpbNpWIWLOQAkUVp1tH5mzZTW58vamMTLLE-8TnwayBWEMQJ11c5TSGMVrbKM28CL5JxEg7rCKYESQPq1QFuU5k/s1600/17021834_10158334551595154_3401127272650740830_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEWabMUy4AvfuLo4_D8G-fIbKrhLoeFPcgKeAB5XrRrx8WUHDu-Vy_dpbNpWIWLOQAkUVp1tH5mzZTW58vamMTLLE-8TnwayBWEMQJ11c5TSGMVrbKM28CL5JxEg7rCKYESQPq1QFuU5k/s320/17021834_10158334551595154_3401127272650740830_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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May your day be lifted up by hope, surrounded in beauty, and your actions be rooted in kindness.<div class="blogger-post-footer">so what do you think? i'd love to "hear" your thoughts...</div>revhipchickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02219279071342600887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4975205264933365500.post-82417467707396164302017-02-20T20:12:00.001-06:002017-02-20T20:12:16.870-06:00My Third-trimester AbortionIt's something I don't talk about much.<br />
<br />
In the past I referred to it as a stillbirth. It was a stillbirth. But it was also an induced labor in my third trimester, hence making it a third-trimester abortion.<br />
<br />
When I discovered I was pregnant I was only 16 years old. I'm pretty sure Christopher was conceived on the night my mom walked in on my boyfriend and I having sex on the couch. I thought she was going to be at work but she came home early. He ran out the door and I cried while my mother yelled profanities at me. It was a horrible night for all of us.<br />
<br />
I wasn't smart enough to consider pretending I was on my period. After a few months my mom asked me if I was pregnant. She was right but I denied it just the same. Tim and I had talked about giving the baby up for adoption but we were scared out of our minds and decided I'd get an abortion. Another month or so passed, I hadn't gotten an abortion and I couldn't deny my pregnancy to my mom anymore. I told her about my abortion idea. She said it was too late for that. I think Tim and I both breathed a sigh of relief, neither of us were really okay with the abortion.<br />
<br />
One of my mom's coworkers knew a family who wanted to adopt. We didn't meet in person but exchanged letters and phone calls. Tim and I spoke to an attorney about the adoption procedure. My heart broke.<br />
<br />
I finally went to the doctor who verified that I was indeed pregnant. I started taking prenatal vitamins and trying to eat healthier for the baby. I enjoyed being pregnant. It was a secret between Tim, my mom, and myself. I was due in October, people at school would find out then, I wasn't going to tell anyone. I decided to see my dad, stepmom, and sisters in May before I really started to show and then see them again after the baby was born. They didn't need to know, it wouldn't be that much longer than the normal amount of time that went by.<br />
<br />
My mistake was that I broke down and told my Aunt Susie about my pregnancy. I told her everything. She wanted me to give the baby to her. I tried to explain that it was already set up with this other family and I thought it would be easier to let the baby go rather than have to see him/her and not be able to be the parent. This was a nice family who would love him/her with all their hearts.<br />
<br />
Susie's son, my cousin Doug, had died the year before. She was angry that I refused. She went and told my dad what I planned to do. He and my stepmom came and confronted me in McDonalds of all places. They were heart broken, not disappointed and angry like I expected. My stepmom told me to hold my head high and not worry about what everyone would say or think.<br />
<br />
I started to show and I also started to share our secret.<br />
<br />
The doctor sent me for an ultrasound. Every ultrasound I had since then I held my breath until I could see the spine connected together like a zipper and heard the words, "Everything looks good." There was silence as the sonographer moved the wand over my belly and stared at the screen. "Is everything okay?" "Uh, yeah, I'll be right back." He went and got another person to come and look at the screen and move the wand some more. They knew something but didn't breathe a word. They told us not to worry and that the doctor would call us.<br />
<br />
I don't remember when the doctor called or even what he said. What I heard was that my baby was not going to survive outside of the womb. This little creature who kicked like a star soccer player wasn't viable. My baby had spina bifida and was anecephalic. This means that instead of a formed skull to protect his brain all he had was a strip of skin to cover his brain. His head would cut off at the eyebrows. According to the doctor I had two options, go through the pregnancy as normal and perhaps the baby would live for a few days, he had never heard of such a child living longer than that, or we could induce labor and save time, money, and my emotions.<br />
<br />
The family was out, they weren't going to pay for the birth of a baby who was dead. I didn't and still don't blame them, it was their heartbreak too.<br />
<br />
After a few weeks along with some pressure from my mom and Tim, we set up the appointment for induction of labor. We had to go to Wichita for the procedure. The night before they stuffed an enormous seaweed tampon inside of me to stretch out my cervix and help me dilate. In the morning they pulled out the "tampon" and started the induction. I was over 6 months so the only way was for me to go through labor. I had plenty of painful contractions, the only difference was that they let me have medicine for the pain since they knew the outcome was going to be bad.<br />
<br />
Finally, I gave birth to a little boy in a silent delivery room. We named him Christopher Thomas. The nurses cleaned him up, swaddled him in blankets and put a little beanie on his head. When the nurse laid him in my arms, she said we could take as much time as we wanted.<br />
<br />
We did all the things parents do when there is a crying baby born. We counted his toes and fingers, I gently stroked and kissed his face. I told him how much I loved him.<br />
<br />
This is what a third-trimester abortion looks like. It breaks the heart of each person involved. It's not an easy decision. It's hard on everyone, including the doctors and nurses. Our nurses were wonderful and after they took Christopher back, they took pictures of him for us.<br />
<br />
Each August I experience a bought of depression. Each year I mark his birthday. Each holiday I think of who he might have been.<br />
<br />
This is what a third-trimester abortion looks like.<div class="blogger-post-footer">so what do you think? i'd love to "hear" your thoughts...</div>revhipchickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02219279071342600887noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4975205264933365500.post-60808846728473381752017-02-16T08:37:00.001-06:002017-02-16T08:37:14.144-06:00Good-bye Grandpa Bud<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDObUgfdSFdhqr6SVZ6wqIqBrMhyT_qXHWGAweX2yuJXVeMqBez_osTDJ45Jic7BC6a_VG33HPK-JcxiCzkY6hpabMKUCPNIpQFTw1DHk4XZwqpdj5b30tUvQySPf3AktUXeqP3DXgmBU/s1600/16649278_10154920384580126_3922007663074550844_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDObUgfdSFdhqr6SVZ6wqIqBrMhyT_qXHWGAweX2yuJXVeMqBez_osTDJ45Jic7BC6a_VG33HPK-JcxiCzkY6hpabMKUCPNIpQFTw1DHk4XZwqpdj5b30tUvQySPf3AktUXeqP3DXgmBU/s320/16649278_10154920384580126_3922007663074550844_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
This is my Grandpa Bud, he also goes by Popo but that's what my nieces and nephews call him. To me, he's Grandpa Bud. He became my grandpa when I was about 5. I thought he was one of the most handsome men I'd ever met. He looked like a movie star to me, I thought he was the spitting image of Clark Gable (I'm not sure how or why I knew who Clark Gable was but I did). He was also one of the kindest men I had ever met. I loved him immediately and took great pride when he named me Pistol.<br />
<br />
I loved going out to the farm and spending the night because it meant that if I woke up early enough, it would be just me and Grandpa Bud sitting at the table together while he drank his coffee. I don't remember what we talked about but I do remember the ways his eyes sparkled and that I felt completely safe in his presence.<br />
<br />
Grandpa Bud introduced me to the simple pleasures of buttered crackers dipped in milk, bread dipped in milk, and my favorite as a child, sugar sandwiches--bread spread with butter and cinnamon sugar (or just plain sugar) sprinkled on top.<br />
<br />
I learned about cows, separating cream from the milk, and playing UNO from Grandpa Bud. I also learned a lot about love and generosity.<br />
<br />
Several years ago we had a falling out. One of Grandpa Bud's grandsons had molested one of my nephews. Grandpa Bud was angry that my sister had called the police and reported it. It was a tremendous divide. Grandpa Bud and Grandma Bertie said some awful things to my sister and so I simply stopped talking with them and pretty much everyone on that side of the family. I was crazy angry and rightfully so. I supported my sister and nephew 100%, I still do. What happened to him was wrong and my cousin needed to get help and accountability, he wasn't getting it from the family, she had to call the police.<br />
<br />
Yesterday I spent a lot of time thinking about Grandpa Bud as he died on Valentine's Day. Before I couldn't understand how he came down on the side of my cousin instead of my nephew. I'm not sure that I completely do now but I think I'm a little closer to it. Grandpa Bud was kind and loving, he saw the best in people. He saw the best in my cousin. My cousin had had it rough as a child, without a doubt. Grandpa Bud wanted to protect him and keep him safe. I think he was also in denial and minimized what had happened because it didn't fit in his picture of who my cousin was. The thing that is sad to me, is that my sister called the police not out of anger but out of concern for our cousin getting the help he needed because we saw that if we didn't nothing else was going to happen and he'd probably end up repeating it and hurting other children and possibly going to jail for a very long time. I wish Grandpa Bud could have seen and known that rather than only protecting our cousin. I wish he would have been able to support and show love to my sister and nephew they way he did for our cousin.<br />
<br />
As the years passed, there has been more interaction with Grandpa Bud and Grandma Bertie. We never spoke of it but Grandpa Bud's eyes still sparkled with love and kindness. His laughter continued to bring joy to those who were blessed to hear it. I think each of us experienced a bit of forgiveness. I hope so anyway.<br />
<br />
My heart broke when I heard the news. I hadn't cried so hard in a long time. I'm thankful that in the past few years I got to see and talk and laugh with him again. I am blessed that I saw my sister laugh and talk with him again so that I could too. I'm thankful that while I'll never forget I have forgiven. I think I may even understand a little bit, I still wish it would have been different but I understand better.<br />
<br />
I'm thankful that Grandpa Bud can breathe deeply again, that he is without pain. I can see him fishing in his overalls, having a smoke with that big beautiful smile on his face and winking good-bye.<br />
<br />
I love you Grandpa Bud. Thank you for making me feel safe and special.<div class="blogger-post-footer">so what do you think? i'd love to "hear" your thoughts...</div>revhipchickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02219279071342600887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4975205264933365500.post-41761795548577294762017-02-09T09:17:00.001-06:002017-02-09T09:17:17.354-06:00Falling in loveI've fallen head over heels for the United Church of Christ.<br />
<br />
<br />Throughout seminary my friend Rick and I joked about carpooling from Kansas City, MO to St. Louis so we could attend Eden Seminary in St. Louis, MO. We knew the UCC had/has an intense commitment to social justice that surpassed that of the United Methodist Church. Yet we stayed put in Kansas City and graduated from Saint Paul School of Theology. I loved my time at SPST. I made life long friendships with both students and professors. I learned a lot there. At SPST I fell in love with Feminist, Womanist, Mujerista, and Process theologies. My mind and heart expanded in love and yearning to co-create a better world.<br />
<br />
In my pursuit of ordination in the United Methodist Church it was suggested that I hide my love for these theologies. I refused. I fought against the male conservative system in the Missouri Conference.<br />
<br />
When we moved back to Colorado and attended my husband's family church, Community Congregational Church of Manitou Springs, I heard the words "No matter who you are or where you are on life's journey, you are welcome here." Rainbow letters decorated their phamplets and they spoke about helping immigrants at the borders.<br />
<br />
Then I attended Vista Grande Community Congregational Church. My first Sunday there, a beautiful woman was having a renaming ceremony. I couldn't stop the tears from flowing as her mother, children, family, friends, and church surrounded her with love reminding her that no matter what she is a beloved child of God, whether man or woman.<br />
<br />
Last week I had the pleasure of attending Congregations Alive, a UCC conference to build up UCC congregations, coming together for learning and fellowship. I must have walked around with my jaw dragging on the floor. The gathering was small compared to the UMC gatherings I'm used to and people were openly talking politics! They were openly discussing how Jesus' mandates and messages stood counter to things going on in our government! <br />
<br />
I love the UCC's embrace of people living on the margins of life, people who are on the margins of the church. I love how they are not afraid to hide the light of Christ's words when they are in opposition to the ways of the world. I love how you can be you in the UCC. I love that they absolutely mean it when they say "No matter who you are or where you are on life's journey, you are welcome here."<br />
<br />
I'm excited about what is next on my journey in the UCC!<div class="blogger-post-footer">so what do you think? i'd love to "hear" your thoughts...</div>revhipchickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02219279071342600887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4975205264933365500.post-90433798632684095492017-01-30T09:02:00.002-06:002017-01-30T09:02:54.500-06:00TriggeredI've been a hot mess all weekend.<br />
<br />
Realistically, I've been a hot mess since Drumpf won the Republican nomination. I've had highs and lows. This past week has been terrible though. I feel like I'm cycling between depression, anger, anxiety, and fear with a little bit of hope and activism thrown in for good measure.<br />
<br />
As I was trying to calm down this morning and prepare for my day I realized that I am triggered. I feel out of control because my PTSD has been triggered and has likely been triggered for months now but has hit a very high level.<br />
<br />
In therapy I've learned to look for common threads in my trauma (for me they are like Lays chips--can't have just one). Most of my trauma is related to different but similar white men. White men who have power over me; they are men who believe they are always right and have the power to do or take whatever they want no matter what. Sound familiar? They are white men who claim the title of Christian but act in ways counter to Jesus's life. They are white men whose egos are larger than life and believe that no one else really matters, only them and how the world bows and bends to them. When the world is not bowing and bending they will manipulate and/or take by force, when you resist they lash out with great vengeance. This is who I see as the POTUS.<br />
<br />
No wonder I've been a hot mess! My old wounds have been split open and are bleeding all over me. So here I am, hoping that by sharing this I can begin to stop the bleeding. I've called my therapist and will see her soon. I've talked with my wonderful and supportive husband. Now, I've shared it with you. I'll get myself together after I publish this post and head to work. Instead of a lunch break I'll go to the gym and physically work out my grief and pain. I'm not sure what's next, I'm sure my therapist will have some good ideas.<br />
<br />
Thanks for listening/reading. If you too are triggered talk to someone, get some help. It's going to be a long four years and we need to be strong for the resistance.<div class="blogger-post-footer">so what do you think? i'd love to "hear" your thoughts...</div>revhipchickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02219279071342600887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4975205264933365500.post-44015725460403174792017-01-11T09:33:00.002-06:002017-01-11T09:34:25.696-06:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg12lXPm0gCFKtD4iMw2QpQ0L0BNITRnND7fpumkNlBQKYZTLs_NT7BJv86WXxAFoRyPyUdsn33Uy2FR_4mnxHzBL-o9818T1cSTWG7Zo3efomzPQlTyC_4mGJw-cVQ-0pgi04lWanuUhY/s1600/alpacas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg12lXPm0gCFKtD4iMw2QpQ0L0BNITRnND7fpumkNlBQKYZTLs_NT7BJv86WXxAFoRyPyUdsn33Uy2FR_4mnxHzBL-o9818T1cSTWG7Zo3efomzPQlTyC_4mGJw-cVQ-0pgi04lWanuUhY/s400/alpacas.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
As I was driving home from preaching last Sunday, I was greeted by these adorable alpacas. I had seen then on my drive to the church but they were far off in the distance and looked like specs in the photo. I was thrilled when driving home, there they were up close. Of course I pulled over to snap some pictures. I didn't get out since I don't know much about alpacas and their demeanor, plus I didn't have permission to pet them from their owners. I just sat in my car and spoke to them at the fence. Their adorable fuzzy faces have brought me joy throughout the week. I'd like to link some deep theology to this post but I'm not going to, it's just a happy post. May these adorable alpacas make you smile like they did me.<br />
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">so what do you think? i'd love to "hear" your thoughts...</div>revhipchickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02219279071342600887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4975205264933365500.post-11444620781528707252017-01-07T16:17:00.001-06:002017-01-07T16:17:24.496-06:00Beloved<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 2;">
<b><span style="color: #880000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">Matthew
3.13-17<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><sup><span style="color: #777777; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">13</span></sup><span style="color: #010000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be
baptized by him. </span><sup><span style="color: #777777; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">14</span></sup><span style="color: #010000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by
you, and do you come to me?” </span><sup><span style="color: #777777; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">15</span></sup><span style="color: #010000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for
us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Then he consented. </span><sup><span style="color: #777777; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">16</span></sup><span style="color: #010000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">And when Jesus had been
baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened
to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on
him.</span><sup><span style="color: #777777; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">17</span></sup><span style="color: #010000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">And a
voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well
pleased.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;">Today we find ourselves with John who is just a wee bit
strange, prophets in the bible nearly always are. Between John’s hair shirt,
diet of bugs, and rudely calling people names, I find it amazing that there
were folks waiting to be baptized by him, lots of them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;">John stormed against the hypocrisy and injustices of his
world and called from the wilderness for people to come and repent, to turn away
from injustice and embrace God’s justice. John’s baptism invited people to come
and confess their wrongs and to dedicate their lives to living according to God’s
ways. John’s baptism was about transformation, going into the waters as one
type of person and emerging as someone new and different, someone transformed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;">And this is where Jesus speaks his first words in the gospel
of Matthew. We meet adult Jesus with John at the Jordan River. John seems to be
in shock, protesting that he should be baptized by Jesus. Yet, Jesus’ first
words are “Let it be so now.” Let it be so, let it happen, baptize me, this is
what needs to be done and this is how it is to be done. Jesus says this is what
needs to happen “to fulfill all righteousness.” Jesus does not separate himself
from us; he did not separate himself from John and all of the people waiting to
be baptized at the Jordan. Jesus does not hold himself apart.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;">We just celebrated Christmas in which God chose to reveal God’s
self to us through the incarnation—through flesh and blood, through the mess of
a manger and birth. Why on earth, would God stop there? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;">Jesus’ toes squished in the mud of the Jordan River, just as
John’s did. Just as every other person’s feet and toes squished in the mud and
muck. This is the God who knows and loves us, to get in the mud and the muck
with us. There is no distance; there is no separation between us. This is
another unifying moment in which God promises that we are not alone, that God
is with us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;">And then, according to Matthew the sky opens and a voice says
“This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” The words we
all long to hear. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;">I was 12 the summer I came home from church camp and asked to
be re-baptized. I had been to a non-denominational church camp in which they
rebaptized just about everyone. I loved
my pastor back home and wanted him to be the one to rebaptize me. When I got
home I went to Reverend Earl and told him about my amazing experience at church
camp. I told him that how I wanted to
follow Jesus. I wanted to follow him with my whole heart and with everything I
did and I wanted to begin by being
baptized like Jesus. The sprinkling I had had as an infant just wasn’t enough,
I needed more. I wanted to be dunked in a river, or stream, or even a pond. I
wanted to come up from the water and see the heavens open. I needed to hear the
booming voice of James Earl Jones “With you I am well pleased!” As a United
Methodist we were only baptized once. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;">I
don’t remember if Reverend Earl tried to persuade me that my sprinkling was
good enough or if he saw a light in my eyes that simply would not be
extinguished. What I do remember is that one of the farmers had a pond that we
could use. The elderly church ladies were happy to pack up a picnic lunch
complete with a red checkered table cloth and we drove out to the farm. I was
nervous and excited, I could hardly wait. Reverend Earl and I walked into the
water, it was nearly waist deep. He prayed over me and dunked my head into the
water. I expected a miraculous transformation. I expected everything to feel
different. But as the elderly ladies clapped and shouted “Amen” and Reverend
Earl brought me in for a big hug, and I saw my mother holding a beach towel
open for me, I was disappointed. I hadn’t heard God call me “Beloved.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;">Can you imagine a 12 year old girl, waiting
for weeks to be baptized? Waiting to come up from the water and know that I was
beloved. But when I came up the heavens
had not opened. James Earl Jones did not speak. I would have even settled for Morgan
Freeman or Charlton Heston, but I got nothing.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;">At that moment I realized that it didn’t work. I wasn’t good
enough. I wasn’t beloved. God was not well pleased with me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;">I hadn’t heard God call me beloved. I had not heard it, but
each person there did. Each person who drove out to that farmers pond heard
God. Not only was I beloved to each person there, witnessing my
faith and desire to serve God. But they
also heard God speak (probably in a small voice) and they heard that I was
beloved to God. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;">It took me a long time to realize what they all knew. I didn’t realize it until I grew up. As an
adult I realized what they all knew. We are ALL beloved by God! Each child on
this earth, no matter their age, no matter their religion, political beliefs,
no matter what, is a Beloved Child of God. Each person in this room, whether
you were sprinkled in a church, dunked in a tub, swam in the River Jordan,
splashed in a farmer’s pond or not baptized at all, You are Beloved by God.
Hear me again – You are Beloved by God. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;">Somehow from that first moment of Creation in which God said “It
is good.” We have forgotten, we have gotten things twisted. We were created for
Good. We were created for love. And yet, we live in a world that can be scary.
A world filled with injustice and acts of evil. This past week, we were
saddened, if not shocked, by yet another mass shooting. Nearly 21,000 people a
day die from hunger related diseases. 1 out of 3 girls and 1 out of 5 boys are
sexually abused. Hunger, poverty, substance abuse, domestic violence all terrorize
and wreck havoc in our world. They wrecked havoc in John’s world as well. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;">John put on his hair shirt, ate bugs, and stormed against the
injustices he saw. He screamed for people to confess their part in it all and
then go a new way, go a new way doing better, working for justice and healing,
helping others. Jesus left the Jordan and entered into the wilderness—he was
baptized with us. He was with us, with his toes in the mud and muck of the
Jordan River. There, he began his ministry. Jesus loved and healed those he met in ministry;
he preached and taught that all people are God’s beloved Children. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;">Our gathering together today to worship God, to join together
as a community of faith, is a rebellion against the world gone wrong. Today we
stand in solidarity with one another, just as Jesus did when he put on flesh
and blood, squished his feet in the River Jordan and was baptized so that we
can be in ministry together, loving, healing, and reminding the people we meet
that they too are beloved by God. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;">Each time we reject the ways of this world that tell us to
treat others in ways that are cruel, mean, or simply indifferent. Each time we embrace
one another, embrace strangers, embrace those who are different from us or very
much like us. Each time we treat other people as a Beloved Child of God, we are
doing ministry. We are walking with Jesus. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;">For too long we have engaged in the idea that we are only
sinners. Yes, we fall short. Yes, we make mistakes. Yes, we do wrong, but we
are also created in and with great love. A love so great that we can choose to
act in love and faith rather than in fear and despair. We can lift one another
up rather than trying to put each other down. We can choose to treat each
person as they are a Beloved child of God. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 200%;">Let us leave this place today never forgetting that we are a beloved
child of God. So is each person we meet.
Every person we encounter is a beloved child of God. Let us go and be like the
old church ladies on a red checkered blanket next to a farmer’s pond. Let us hear
God and know that each person we meet is a beloved child of God. Let us be like
those who encountered John in the </span><span style="line-height: 32px;">Jordan</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"> River who chose to be transformed, who
chose to go a new way. Let us go and follow Jesus into the wilderness of this
world and start our ministry armed with love. Armed with the knowledge that we
are all Beloved by God. Amen.</span><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">so what do you think? i'd love to "hear" your thoughts...</div>revhipchickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02219279071342600887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4975205264933365500.post-12150710244279816792017-01-06T10:05:00.001-06:002017-01-06T10:05:23.169-06:00I'm excited to preach on Sunday, the Baptism of Jesus. My mentor told me not to get overly creative since her church wouldn't expect something too crazy. So I won't be throwing water on them or anything overly fun or strange.<br />
<br />
Yet, as I was playing in the shower water this morning I was thinking about creation and how after each piece of creation was added: the light and the dark, land, creatures of the air and of the land, and even people after each creation God said "And it was good." It was good. I believe in Original Goodness. We were made for goodness and love, I believe this with my whole heart and spirit. Yet, instead of a doctrine of Original Goodness, humans created a doctrine of Original Sin.<br />
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Isn't it strange? Most folks will say that God is good. God is love. God created out of love. And yet, our focus is on sin and failing and missing the mark. I live a life of grand mistakes and bold sins and embarrassing sins as well. I know that all of us do. But how much braver and bolder for justice and love would we be if we spoke of Original Goodness instead of Original Sin?<br />
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While I played in the water this morning, I remembered getting "in trouble" for one of baptismal sermons. I had pretty much stated that we were born perfect and then as we play and learn and grow in this world we learn of and experience sin. I wasn't supposed to say such things in the UMC; it didn't fit our doctrine.<br />
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As I remembered my "trouble," it wasn't much really, just a "talking to," I'm so happy to be free to say what I mean and mean what I say. In the UMC, I was always trying to fit in. I would stretch concepts so that I could say them honestly. That's not really honest though is it?<br />
<br />
I'm thrilled to be participating in a church in which I can ask questions, challenge concepts and theologies, and grow. I've never been happier in church than I am now. I finally found my home.<br />
<br />
I learned a lot from the UMC and there are things like the Wesleyan Quadrilateral and Prevenient Grace that have shaped my faith formation but I'm glad to be in a new home where I am encouraged to continue to grow and continue the journey because I believe that God is still speaking.<div class="blogger-post-footer">so what do you think? i'd love to "hear" your thoughts...</div>revhipchickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02219279071342600887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4975205264933365500.post-84098873739608533192016-12-22T08:49:00.002-06:002016-12-22T08:49:56.390-06:00Thinking with my fingersIt's funny, I thought 2015 was the worst year on the books. It very well may have been but 2016 feels like a close 2nd. I am optimistic about 2017 until I remember who our president-elect is. <div>
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As much as I want to bitch and complain I realize that I am incredibly blessed. After the past two years I am aware that having all three of my girls breathing and relatively healthy is a blessing and nothing I should ever take for granted.</div>
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<div>
Last Friday, Ainsley had a grand mal seizure. It was her first and fingers crossed, it will be her last. There is a strong possibility that it was due to a new psych med they were trying for her. Thankfully, prior to the grand mal seizure she had started experiencing petit mal seizures so I had already been in contact with her neurologist and she already has an EEG scheduled. The grand mal seizure happened at a friend's home which is unfortunate because Ainsley may never leave our house again. It was seriously the first time her depression had lifted long enough for her to want to spend time with a friend and outside of our home. Of course, the depression has returned with its friend anger for a lovely combination inside of the mind of a 15 year old girl.</div>
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Saturday evening Merkin, her friend Mallorie, and dog Olive were stranded west of nowhere in a snow storm. I called the insurance company to get them towed out. An hour later I called back to ask when they'll arrive because the battery had died, there were no lights, and it was now pitch black outside. The insurance agent said "Oh, there's a an 8 hour wait. You should call the local 911 to get them out." Thankfully, Joel left to meet them while I was on the phone with insurance the first time. I called our local 911, they gave me the number for the Walsenberg PD. Walsenberg PD gave me the number for the Highway Patrol. The Highway Patrol said they were covering accidents and didn't have time to rescue stranded motorists. As Merkin and Mallorie's phones were dying and their butts were freezing a kind Samaritan rescued them and gave them a lift to Walsenberg. Joel found them warming up at Loaf and Jug. Thankfully, they arrived home by midnight and were safe and sound.</div>
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<div>
The dogs tearing up the kitchen, eating a bag of chocolate chips and a plate of chocolate chip cookies was simply delightful. Discovering our plumbing was backed up added to the pleasure of the weekend. But our weekend was celebrated with everyone, including 3 dogs, being mostly healthy, sharing in some laughter and tears.</div>
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<div>
Yesterday Merkin and Joel went to retrieve her car which she had just sunk $1000 a week before so it would be ready for the 6 hour drive home. Did I mention she also experienced her first major heartbreak during finals? The shop said the car was fine and it would only cost $160 for them to pick it up. Alas, as they got near Pueblo the car died again. Turns out the guys in the first shop weren't the brightest bulbs. She had blown a gasket going over La Veta pass but they didn't notice that. For another $60 they discovered that her car is kaput. Today, Joel and Merkin will make a shorter drive to retrieve the car again. </div>
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Tonight we will celebrate with friends, including 3 of the cutest children on the face of the planet (not mine, little ones). There will be laughter, there will be joy, and life will go on.</div>
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<div>
My girls are home and relatively healthy. For that I am thankful. Joel and I will have been married 20 years in 2017. We have survived post-partum depression, adult depression, seminary, crazy family issues, major job losses, 4 years of rural ministry in the most conservative land I've ever lived, our eldest being bullied by a teacher/coach and football team, packing up our lives and moving to Colorado without jobs and moving in with our parents, getting back on our feet, leaving the UMC, joining the UCC, starting the ordination process all over again, having two out of three girls become cutters and have suicide attempts and multiple hospitalizations, and we have survived this past weekend. Things that could have easily torn us apart drew us closer together. We are stronger and closer than I ever knew a married couple could be. When I got married to Joel I didn't believe that married couples were ever really faithful. I didn't know what a healthy relationship could be. I do now. I know that couples can not only be faithful but they can still be twitterpatedly in-love. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Yes, the past few years have been difficult beyond anything I ever want to go through again. I'm still scared for the mental health of my girls, I'm still scared that Ainsley will give up the fight against depression and anxiety. I'm still concerned that Valerie may be living at home without a job or in school due to her depression and anxiety. I still find it hard to say and acknowledge that my spectacularly successful Merkin has bipolar because it scares me that all three of my girls have significant mental health issues. And yet, here we are, alive and experiencing joy in the midst of life that can be hard.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Drumpf may be our president elect but I know of at least 3 powerful young women who despite their challenges with mental health unabashedly stand for the rights of others, work towards equality and justice. I have 3 warrior women and know there are many others who will not go silently. I know a strong man who works with children doing all he can to teach them more than writing and arithmetic so they too will have courage to face whatever comes their way. I too am a warrior woman prepared to fight for justice and equality. </div>
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<div>
2016 may have some more challenges for our family but we despite everything, are strong enough to face them. We are certainly strong enough to see what 2017 will bring.</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">so what do you think? i'd love to "hear" your thoughts...</div>revhipchickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02219279071342600887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4975205264933365500.post-73708342695963813782016-12-13T08:12:00.001-06:002016-12-13T08:12:18.540-06:00They're backI woke up afraid this morning. Afraid of going back to therapy. Thankfully I have therapy on Thursday so I can discuss this with Cynthia.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My nightmares are back. Nightmares that either I had as a child and in my early 20s or for whatever reason in the midst of the nightmare I believe it's a nightmare I've had before.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
I've been doing EMDR in therapy and I love it. I believe it has been one of the most helpful forms of therapy I've experienced. Yet, there have been a few times in which my brain/imagination has simply gone black and then we've stopped for the day and returned later.</div>
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It feels as though there is this darkness that I am afraid to face and it is leaking out in my nightmares. </div>
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It was disappointing to wake afraid and worried after an amazing morning with my mentor yesterday. I had obtained some clarity about my call and the process. I was excited to sit down and write and blog about it but I had to go to work (the bummer about employment is you can't just do whatever you want whenever you want).</div>
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Perhaps, the nightmare was simply a backlash of fear. I'm moving forward and it feels affirming and wonderful, perhaps that beast of self-sabotage took one last swipe to see if he still has any power. </div>
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No, no you don't. I'm taking my power back. You aren't going to scare me. I've got Cynthia to help me sort this out and I have a mass of supports to help me in the ministry process. Bring on the nightmares and I will dismantle them and grow from them. I'm not going back into the dark.</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">so what do you think? i'd love to "hear" your thoughts...</div>revhipchickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02219279071342600887noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4975205264933365500.post-85611900940952224022016-12-09T10:57:00.002-06:002016-12-09T10:57:59.615-06:00Picture PerfectThis morning my mind raced with ideas about what to do with our weekend: getting the house cleaned up, decorating for Christmas, making Christmas candies and cookies, having friends over to play some games, or maybe inviting our parents over to play Hand and Foot (an outrageous card game that is lots of fun), shopping for Christmas presents, or perhaps having a date night with Joel. Surely, there's enough time for all of that right? <br />
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Joel has been under an immense amount of stress due to his own procrastination with his classes. But after midnight tonight (his deadline for the last paper) he will be free! At least until the next class starts. I too have been stressed and working too much. Last weekend I worked both Saturday and Sunday, this is my first weekend in several weeks that I won't have to work! Hurrah! So it's no surprise that I want to cram everything in while I have time. <br />
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Earlier in the week I thought my weekend would mean laying in bed feeling miserable so I started overloading on Vitamin C, doing nasal rinses, using Raven in my diffuser to help me breath and guess what? It worked! I'm still a little stuffy but I'm not concerned about wasting my weekend in bed.<br />
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I am concerned that I won't be productive and have a little fun at the same time. As my mind was racing this morning, I pictured a clean kitchen with my girls laughing and having fun while we make chocolate peanut butter balls, Christmas music playing in the background (Weezer's Christmas of course), and then friends coming over with their kiddos and lots of laughter and good times, like a Hallmark Christmas movie where all is good and everyone is happy. That's how my plans always look in my mind.<br />
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As I've been pondering success and what that looks like, I feel like this double edged sword. As I seek success, it also brings to mind all the ways I have failed. For example, this weekend will not include family and friends coming over to eat homemade cookies and candies. My girls are both sick, I may have warded off whatever they have but they aren't willing to do the nasal rinses ("Gross!) that I swear by and they both are suffering from depression. For now, that Hallmark picture isn't part of my reality. I will have a clean kitchen come hell or high water!<br />
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I'm the person always telling people that perfection is overrated. That getting back up when we fall down is what matters. Or perhaps I'm just trying to convince myself.<br />
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My life has never been picture perfect. I've had lots of great ups and downs. I've laughed and loved in the midst of muck and mud, I don't think I'd want it any other way. And yet, each time a holiday or party or school year comes around, something picture perfect comes into my head and I strive to get there. Sometimes I have a breakdown because it's not picture perfect and other times I laugh and find the joy in that moment. I guess it's good to realize the only thing that even the picture never comes out quite perfect, our imaginations fill it in.<br />
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Here's to a weekend filled with imperfections, depressed kids who have a little bit of laughter, and that I get my clean kitchen! May we find joy in the mess!<div class="blogger-post-footer">so what do you think? i'd love to "hear" your thoughts...</div>revhipchickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02219279071342600887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4975205264933365500.post-76634556561382870592016-11-29T07:14:00.000-06:002016-11-29T07:14:33.986-06:00Dreams of successI was dreaming of writing. Scribbling frantically with pen and paper. A good friend came up and wanted to talk. I said "No, not now." He begged for time. I replied "I'm not here for you, I'm here for myself, for this. I came to write." His feelings were hurt but I felt justified and then I felt guilt. I was writing about redemption and love and kindness. I was guilty of putting myself and my writing first, putting it over my relationship, my friendship, taking care of another. I was angry at myself and at my friend for not understanding that I had gone to that time and place and space to write. Yet I knew that I would want for our friendship and camaraderie when the writing was done, when I had exhausted myself from the scribbling and purging of thoughts and emotions. What else could I do but come here to write after such a dream?<br />
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I've been relieved of failure and fear! I wish! I have been relieved of writing and focusing on failure and fear for my mentor! It is now time to focus on success and what that looks like for me.<br />
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This morning, success looks and feels like taking care of myself. I haven't been doing such a good job of that lately. Work has zapped my time and energy. Family has been hard lately as well. Interesting that I've been encouraged to think and write about success and here I am flailing my back once again. What does success look like right now? Taking care of myself, treating myself and my body with love and respect<br />
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<ul>
<li>writing: creating time and space to express myself </li>
<li>hitting and kicking bags at 9 Round--it's good for my body and mind, one of the best stress relievers I've ever experienced and the people there are encouraging and supportive</li>
<li>eating and drinking things that help my body rather than hurt it--I know gluten and dairy rob my body of energy and create pain</li>
<li>while I'm treating my body as a temple then I should also get some new stained glass (tattoos)</li>
<li>ooh, spending some time at R.E.S.T. Float solutions--indulging in relaxation and prayer</li>
<li>writing</li>
<li>time playing with my family--the girls are older and so play looks different now but our best times have been painting together, ooh, yes, we need a painting day!</li>
<li>time with Joel</li>
<li>time with friends</li>
<li>reading--this past week I started reading again, it had been months since I've read for pleasure</li>
<li>prayer--significant time spent in prayer</li>
<li>focus at work and then leaving work at the office</li>
<li>not working on Sundays and enjoying the time with my church family</li>
<li>dreaming</li>
<li>making love</li>
<li>leaving fear and failure behind, not letting it get in my way, understanding that both are normal parts of life but not giving them control</li>
<li>preaching with heart and love </li>
<li>acting in and for justice</li>
<li>hosting parties for family and friends</li>
<li>cooking and baking</li>
</ul>
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My fingers gobbled up more time than I had planned. It felt good though. I really like this to-do list! What does success look like to you?</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">so what do you think? i'd love to "hear" your thoughts...</div>revhipchickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02219279071342600887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4975205264933365500.post-54743236983019096552016-11-18T06:15:00.002-06:002016-11-18T06:15:27.299-06:00Sleep Deprived PostFirst of all, I am a sleeper. I can sleep through nearly anything. I can still sleep until noon. As soon as my head hits the pillow I fall asleep. I can wake up and go back to sleep almost immediately. I'm a sleeper, it's what I do.<br />
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This morning I woke up around 2:30 or 3. I have not been able to go back to sleep! I've been yawning for hours, I've tried laying down and going back to sleep but it's not working. So here I am 2.5 hours later writing on my blog. I'm not sure I can be responsible for what I write in this sleep deprived state.<br />
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In about 5 hours I'll leave to pick up my eldest daughter and her BFF from college. Let's hope I don't sleep during the drive! Okay, not really funny. I'll have to take a cue from my mom and pull over and take a nap when I get drowsy.<br />
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I think it was my junior year of high school and I was driving a boat of a car that looked a lot like this:<br />
<img alt="Image result for 4 door 70s long cars" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDZ_221Wfyfq4IOU8x8TXA8lgU1Y5Sq0wgdci3a38Ci0ZeuYqNR-QI_Qeaum2FNzpr66MoKVmgwTF_L2Q4G4OMK-sbpsze4uXV1KrMkCXSru4RzvwB50LGSvbNPCLnsTIqvlppg44Wcrs/s320/1978+Lincoln+Town+Car+WILLIAMSBURG+SPECIAL+EDITION2.jpg" width="320" />If possible, I think it was even longer and not as pretty but it was gold. Anyways, it was sort of embarrassing to drive but it was also utterly heavenly to drive. It was like sailing, smoothest ride I ever had.<br />
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I had a habit of skipping school in Manhattan and driving back to Emporia to visit my friends at my old high school. One day as I was going back to Manhattan I fell asleep driving. I woke up with the sound of metal scraping the passenger side of the car along the railing of a bridge. I was one lucky kid, my neighbor Wilma always said "God protects fools and children." Thank goodness for that! I quickly righted my boat and pulled over to check the damage. Miraculously it wasn't much at all. I had a long scrape where the paint was etched off but that was it! Of course I tried to keep the boat parked across the street so my mom wouldn't notice. She eventually did and I lied and told her that someone must have scraped it in the school parking lot. Back then I was sure I had covered my lies but looking back I'm pretty sure my mom had my number.<br />
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I plan NOT to repeat the scenario today, rather than flatlands I'll be driving over mountain passes to pick up my eldest and her BFF. Perhaps that's why I can't sleep, I would love to get dressed and head out now but I need to stick around to get my youngest to school.<br />
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Happy Friday, stay woke my friends!<div class="blogger-post-footer">so what do you think? i'd love to "hear" your thoughts...</div>revhipchickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02219279071342600887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4975205264933365500.post-64546027728534477922016-11-06T18:39:00.001-06:002016-11-06T18:39:42.484-06:00Saints and SinnersIt's been a bit harry lately. Ainsley's depression has kicked back into high gear and it's a big mess. Thus far no hospitalizations so that's positive.<br />
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Today was a great day for me. I was honored to preach this morning and celebrate All Saints Day with the church. Since I haven't posted in a while, I thought I'd post my sermon here and let whoever happens upon this blog know that I am alive!<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Luke 6:20-31<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<sup>20</sup>Then he looked up at his disciples and said:
“Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. <sup>21</sup>“Blessed
are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. “Blessed are you who weep
now, for you will laugh. <sup>22</sup>“Blessed are you when people hate
you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the
Son of Man. <sup>23</sup>Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely
your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the
prophets.<sup>24</sup>“But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your
consolation.<sup>25</sup>“Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry.
“Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep. <sup>26</sup>“Woe
to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the
false prophets.</div>
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<sup>27</sup>“But I say to you that listen, Love your
enemies, do good to those who hate you, <sup>28</sup>bless those who curse
you, pray for those who abuse you. <sup>29</sup>If anyone strikes you on
the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do
not withhold even your shirt.<sup>30</sup>Give to everyone who begs from you;
and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. <sup>31</sup>Do
to others as you would have them do to you.</div>
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<b>Ephesians 1:11-23<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<sup>11</sup>In Christ we have also obtained an inheritance,
having been destined according to the purpose of him who accomplishes all
things according to his counsel and will, <sup>12</sup>so that we, who
were the first to set our hope on Christ, might live for the praise of his
glory. <sup>13</sup>In him you also, when you had heard the word of truth,
the gospel of your salvation, and had believed in him, were marked with the
seal of the promised Holy Spirit;<sup>14</sup>this is the pledge of our
inheritance toward redemption as God’s own people, to the praise of his glory.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<sup>15</sup>I have heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus
and your love toward all the saints, and for this reason <sup>16</sup>I do
not cease to give thanks for you as I remember you in my prayers. <sup>17</sup>I
pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a
spirit of wisdom and revelation as you come to know him, <sup>18</sup>so
that, with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the hope to
which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance among
the saints, <sup>19</sup>and what is the immeasurable greatness of his
power for us who believe, according to the working of his great power. <sup>20</sup>God
put this power to work in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated
him at his right hand in the heavenly places, <sup>21</sup>far above all
rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named,
not only in this age but also in the age to come. <sup>22</sup>And he has
put all things under his feet and has made him the head over all things for the
church, <sup>23</sup>which is his body, the fullness of him who fills all
in all.</div>
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<b>“Saints and Sinners”<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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Today is the day in which we take a moment to reflect on
those whose faith has shaped and inspired our own faith, those who have
listened to our doubts and questions, taught us to pray, and share in this
journey to know and love God deeply.</div>
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We refer to these people as Saints. In Paul’s letter to the
Ephesians he refers to the church, to that body of believers as Saints. In the
early church “Saints” was the common name for the people of the church. They
were people just like us. They experienced times of great joy and great faith
and they experienced times of doubt and questioning. They weren’t perfect, not
at all but they gathered together to support one another in times of need and
to rejoice together in times of joy. They spoke about their faith and beliefs,
they had courage to share their doubts and questions, they learned together and
from one another. These are our saints.</div>
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Over the years the term Saint has become rather bloated with
great expectations of perfection and honor. We’ve added to the title of Saints
a person who has done great works of love and mercy and had a hand in
spectacular miracles. To be canonized, meaning to be officially recognized as a
Saint by the Catholic Church is quite a feat. First you have to have lived a
life as a “Servant of God”—much like Mother Theresa feeding and caring for the
sick and hungry, the Untouchables of Calcutta, for her entire life through
moments of faith as well as doubt. Or if you are a martyr for the faith,
meaning you died in honor of your faith or in honor of God, and then you can be
on the fast track to sainthood. Then there must be at
least two miracles must have occurred after his or her death, unless you died
for your faith and then only 1 miracle needs to occur. It’s quite a process. </div>
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Through the years we’ve transformed Saints into Superheroes
of Christianity. Saints are put on pedestals that we could never reach, nor is
it likely that we’d even try. Some of us give up before we ever start.</div>
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If truth be told, I’d imagine most of the official saints
might be a little embarrassed. From the readings on saints such as St. Teresa
of Avila, St. Augustine, and St. Francis, they too struggled greatly in their
faith. St. Teresa went a few years refusing to pray because she believed she
was so unworthy and such a great sinner that she didn’t deserve to experience
that time with God. She declared herself a sinner and yet we’ve declared her a
saint. St. Augustine and St. Francis experienced great doubts and questioned
their own faiths as well. Please understand, in no way am I denigrating them,
they lived extraordinary lives of faith and doing God’s work in the world. </div>
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My point is that they are not so unlike us. We too struggle
in our faith; we and they are not perfect they too bore the title of sinner.
They too continued in their moments of doubt and questioning. They too
experienced moments of blessed clarity, moments I refer to as “God moments.”
Those times in which we meet or are speaking with someone, or witness something
so incredible that we know it has come directly from God. Sometimes, we
participate in those moments for others without ever knowing it.</div>
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What if we return to the early church definition of Saint?
In that case, Saints are also sinners. Saints are people just like us—people
with flaws and heartaches, people who make mistakes but continue to try to do
better, people who don’t give up, people who come together to learn about and
share their Christian faith, loving and supporting each other as we seek to
know God better. We do what we can to live lives that follow Jesus the Christ.
To live lives of love and kindness, knowing that at times we fall short.</div>
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Some saints volunteer to teach Sunday school, some saints
help out at the food pantry, some saints give up their Saturdays to come and
fix a leak at the church, some saints prepare a meal for a friend who just had
surgery. Sainthood is less about miracles and more about acting out of God’s
love and caring for those around us—sometimes in little quiet acts of kindness
and sometimes in major campaigns to create worldwide positive change.</div>
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Earlier we listened to Jesus’ “Sermon on the Plains,” in
Luke, Jesus had returned from the mountain and has come to the plain, the
flatland to be with the disciples and his followers. This tells us something
important, Jesus comes to our level. Jesus meets us where we are, he isn’t
afraid to get dirty and get in the mud and muck of human life.</div>
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He first addresses the poor. Luke is clear, these are poor
people meaning literally poor-they are struggling to simply live, they are the
have-nots. The poor struggle to pay for things, to have enough food to eat,
they don’t always have safe shelter and yet Jesus tells them that they are
blessed with the kingdom of God. I don’t know about you but I’ve been poor. It
is not glamorous and it certainly doesn’t feel like a blessing. But here Jesus
is heaping blessings on the poor, the hungry, those experiencing grief or
depression, those who’ve been cast out due to their faith. These were and
continue to be those of us in the church. These blessings Jesus is heaping upon
us help us to see the blessings in our own lives. They gives us
hope that the struggle will not go on forever, that we will have relief.</div>
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Then, Jesus addresses the rich. Again, he means those with
money, wealth, and power. Those who have plenty to eat, those who have safe
shelter, those who are happy and content, and those who do the casting out.
These are the haves. Jesus’ words to the haves are not comforting, they shake us,
and leave us worried that we won’t always have the power and wealth, that one
day our bellies and bank accounts will not be full.</div>
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Jesus knows both groups were present on the plains; both
groups are present in the church today. For all of us, a reversal is coming.
For some of us, this is good news. For others of us, this is scary.</div>
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I’m not sure that this scripture is meant to simply condemn
the rich and uplift the poor. I think it is recognition of the way things are.
It reminds us that we are all in this together. This moment in our life does
not define us—changes and reversals are coming. We should not be judging the
haves and the have-nots and laughing at their situations, for change is coming.</div>
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Regardless of where we find ourselves on that spectrum of haves
and have-nots, we are all called to be Saints. We are called to go beyond the
cultural norms and love and pray for our enemies, to do good to those who hate
us, to bless those who curse us (and I don’t mean “bless her heart”, we all
know that isn’t truly a blessing), to pray for those who abuse us (it doesn’t
say we have to stay in a relationship with them but to pray for them). <sup><o:p></o:p></sup></div>
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Jesus goes on to say “If anyone strikes you on the cheek
offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold
even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away
your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them
do to you.”</div>
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These actions are no small feat, but they are what Jesus
calls us to do. I want to offer up an idea, when we pray for our enemies; we
should probably pray to help love them too. I know I have a hard time loving my
enemies on my own. I think the experience of truly praying for our enemies,
praying for those who have hurt us, likely does more to change us than them.
When we are so entrenched in prayer and love, it becomes more difficult to see
people as enemies. We tend to see them as fellow human beings with flaws much
like our own. </div>
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I want to be clear, if you are in an abusive relationship, I
don’t believe that God expects you to stay and pray for that other person. I
believe God wants you to pray for them but that God does not expect or want you
to stay in harm’s way. The act of offering your other cheek when someone has
slapped you on the other is a way to get them to stop. It’s a sort of
humiliation, just as giving your shirt as well as your coat. In Jesus’ time,
Roman soldiers would walk with civilians and demand their coats, to give the
soldier your shirt as well as your coat essentially left you naked, which then
drew attention to the bad behavior of the soldier. Sometimes these verses have
been used to keep people oppressed but I do not believe that is the sacred
message here. I believe Jesus is telling us to go beyond our cultural norms and
to go beyond in love, I don’t believe it is telling us to be doormats.</div>
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For a minute, close your eyes and imagine that during this
election cycle, we and the candidates prayed for one another, not just for our
favorite candidate but for all of them. I believe this would create a totally
different kind of election cycle. Rather than defaming and yelling at one
another when we disagree, we would speak politely and truly listen to each
other. Can you imagine an election cycle surrounded with prayers for love and
grace? I’m positive this would be transformative and create a time of healing
and consideration of what is best for our country. We need relief from the
grime and bitterness of this election.</div>
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We must remember that we are not enemies. Just like the
crowd Jesus spoke to, we are all represented. We are all offered a new way of
living and being in this world. We can choose to accept the challenge of living
a life grounded in love and prayer, kindness and generosity, a life lived in
faith.</div>
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Does this mean we won’t sin? We won’t slip up? We won’t fall
short? Of course not. It means that we are committed to getting back up and
trying again and again and again.</div>
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Take a moment to picture a person who has inspired your
faith.</div>
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Was this person perfect? Or were they a beautiful blend of
sinner and saint?</div>
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Here these words of Paul from the Message Bible. Hold them
close, let them sink in, let this be our prayer for all…</div>
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“I ask—ask the God of our Master, Jesus Christ, the God of
glory—to make you intelligent and discerning in knowing him personally, your
eyes focused and clear, so that you can see exactly what it is he is calling
you to do, grasp the immensity of this glorious way of life he has for his
followers, oh, the utter extravagance of his work in us who trust him—endless
energy, boundless strength!” </div>
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Let us live as the Saints (and sinners) we are called to be!
Amen.</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">so what do you think? i'd love to "hear" your thoughts...</div>revhipchickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02219279071342600887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4975205264933365500.post-84837027211466094772016-10-03T08:09:00.000-05:002016-10-03T08:09:14.221-05:00Failure to act...I wish I had made my shrink appointments to be weekly instead of bi-weekly. This morning I woke from a dream that I just can't shake off.<br />
<br />
I take pride in being a good mom to my kids. We have open conversations and yet I keep good boundaries so that they know I'm Mom and not their BFF.<br />
<br />
But I failed my youngest when she was very young. I should have done something differently. She was spending the night at a friend's house and when I went to pick her up the other mom said "I found them playing naked in the bathroom but I tried not to overreact." I know that kids have normal sex play so I didn't make a big deal of it. I assumed it was normal kid sex play, nothing to be worried about.<br />
<br />
I was wrong. My youngest hadn't wanted to participate. It was not consensual sex play. She felt violated. She was violated and I did nothing.<br />
<br />
She now has PTSD and is struggling with sexual feelings. She spent most of last year in mental hospitals with a large part due to this non-consensual sex play. (I don't call it rape, even though that is the experience my daughter had, I don't refer to it as rape because the other party was just a child as well. I think this child was a bully but I'm not sure I can refer to her as a rapist at the age of 7. Who knows what had happened to her.)<br />
<br />
The theme I'm noticing here is a lack of action. For me, guilt and failure result not from the things I've done but the times in which I did not act.<br />
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So how do I begin to make that right?<div class="blogger-post-footer">so what do you think? i'd love to "hear" your thoughts...</div>revhipchickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02219279071342600887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4975205264933365500.post-14388354190698783162016-09-26T19:31:00.000-05:002016-09-26T19:31:23.852-05:00More ramblings on failureI had an appointment with my shrink today. She asked how often I've failed at things. I honestly replied not often. I've made more than my share of mistakes but failing at a task? Not often.<br />
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However, I carry with me my Aunt Susie's voice every time I make a mistake. She's been dead several years and she was absent for many years of my life and yet i still hear smoker voice with a tilt of laughter saying "Crystal, everything you touch turns to shit." I can't remember when she first said it. I can't remember the context. What I remember is that I've always been hard on things. As I kid I blew through shoes, I still tear up shoes. I have to get new dishes every few years because mine break. A year or so ago I was doing lawn work and sliced the electrical cord and weed-wacked my own leg. I bought a new car last year and my front right bumper is totally scratched up. It's true, I'm hard on things. It's not true that everything I touch turns to shit. Every time I do something stupid and innocent, like driving to the wrong town for my hotel a few weeks back and discovering I had passed the hotel 30 miles before. I started to beat myself up with talk about being a dumb-ass when my daughter stopped me and helped me to laugh at myself. I'd never be so cruel to someone else and yet I do speak to myself that way.<br />
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One of the things I'm supposed to be doing for my mentor is creating a collage on fear and failure with cutouts from magazines. I started going through a pile of magazines today. I wasn't finding much inspiration or pictures that represent fear or failure to me. Then my view shifted. I realized I'd been looking for the wrong things, I was being too literal. The more I flipped through the magazines the worse I felt about myself. I hated seeing the pictures of beautiful women, these beautiful seascapes and landscapes of places I'll likely never visit. Pictures of families hiking and having fun made me feel like I was wasting my life. I was judging myself, my family, my life on pictures in a magazine that is posed and created to sell items or tell me where to go on my dream vacation or how to organize and decorate my dream home. Rather than being inspired, it made me depressed to know I'd never spend $65 on a pair of jeans and I find it nearly impossible to envision myself in Cuba and that my bedroom will probably never be clean let alone perfectly decorated. I was judging myself, condemning myself, and wishing for a different life.<br />
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And yet, as I put the scissors and magazines away, I walked into my home (which is beyond what I ever imagined for myself) and my youngest was holding the kitten her sister rescued. My husband kissed my neck, my middle daughter petting my dog, and I realized that my life is good, my life is far more than good, far more than I ever imagined for myself. I am not a failure. I may or may not go to Cuba. I find it a point of honor not to spend $65 on a pair of jeans; I'm proud that my girls are not wrapped up in name brand clothing and consider thrift store shopping an adventure. I'd love to give my home a fresh splash of paint and do some decorating but I can do that a piece at a time. I want my home to be clean but not perfect...some days that's a huge struggle but I'm working on it. Our house is a house of love and laughter, that's far better than anything a magazine could offer.<br />
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New sets of dishes every few years is fun. I can replace my shoes. I live and love with passion and that may mean my things may not be gently worn but that is far from turning them to shit. Knowing my Aunt Susie, she probably said it with love and laughter never intending to hurt me and certainly not expecting it to stick.<div class="blogger-post-footer">so what do you think? i'd love to "hear" your thoughts...</div>revhipchickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02219279071342600887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4975205264933365500.post-68876551471034873972016-09-26T13:23:00.002-05:002016-09-26T13:23:54.493-05:00Failure...It's been busy, so what's new right? I guess this could be about a failure to post blogs in a timely manner. I gotta be honest. I'm sick of thinking about failure. I've found that I don't like the word at all. I don't like considering myself or anyone else a failure. I prefer an "oops" or mistake; not failure.To me failure means the end; that there's no coming back. Thankfully, that isn't how the world works.<br />
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Nearly every week I attend a staffing for men (mostly) who are in a program to help them face their problems and perpetration of domestic violence. These guys have usually had multiple arrests and convictions of DV, this is their last chance if you will. I'm amazed and frustrated by this process. One of the things that frustrates me is knowing some of their histories and realizing that instead of sitting in jail, they are out on the streets and thus it feels that DV isn't always taken seriously. However, on the other side of things this program makes my heart sing. These are guys who've been through their own trauma and have inflicted trauma on others but yet this program sees their value as human beings, as people who have had trauma that has led them down a dark path and instead of giving up and calling them failures, they are surrounded by professionals that want to help them deal with their trauma and go forth as good and decent partners, spouses, and parents. They may have failed in their relationships before but they are not failures; they are people who need support so that they can do better.<br />
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In that sense, failure does not exist because we have grace, we have second, third, seventy-second chances to be better, to make it work.<br />
<br />
Yet, one failure to act still nags at me and haunts me. When I was in my late twenties and early thirties I had a younger cousin who was very much challenged at home, she had a rough life. We talked about bringing her into our home and raising her. We were barely scraping by and knew there wouldn't be assistance available unless she ended up in the system and we didn't want that to happen to her. We were also afraid, afraid of what I'm not totally sure but fear was definitely present. We didn't take her into our home. She's now a drug addict and has lost her own kiddos to the system. I, we, failed her. I can't make it right. So how do I begin to forgive myself for that failure? It happened. I don't know that she would have done any better in our home, she would have moved to a large city and potentially be exposed to more drugs there than in the small town in which she lived. Maybe we couldn't of handled her but my failure is that I didn't even try. I gave up the fight for her before it was even started. So there is failure, I have failed her. That is how the world works at least part of the time.<br />
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It's a cliche but it's true: our regrets are made not by the things we tried but those we did not attempt. So is regret the same as failure or something completely different? Perhaps regret is the haunting residue of failure.<br />
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As sick of it as I am, I guess I still have work to do. Until next time...<div class="blogger-post-footer">so what do you think? i'd love to "hear" your thoughts...</div>revhipchickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02219279071342600887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4975205264933365500.post-46343207070182620052016-09-16T09:26:00.002-05:002016-09-16T09:26:38.730-05:00She's coming homeA few weeks ago I drove my middle child across states to try living with my sister. She lives in a small town, there's more family and my baby girl (I refer to all of my girls as "baby girl") has high anxiety so we all thought it might be a good thing for her. Yesterday she told me she wanted to come home. She said she feels "worthless." That broke my heart. I wanted to leave last night to go get her.<div>
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<div>
So why talk about that hear? My self talk immediately became that of my failure: "What have I done wrong that she struggles with so much anxiety? I should gotten her to therapy before she left. I should have done xyz." I also heard in her voice that she feels a bit of that failure vibe too. She's worried that she's disappointed the family there by coming home so quickly. </div>
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Realistically neither of us should be considering failure at this point. We wanted to try something different, we did. We didn't know what would happen, we weren't sure if it would be a good fit or not, there weren't expectations. Okay, I think she had some unstated expectations, the expectations I had were confined to her learning to drive and coming home sooner than later. She didn't learn to drive but she did drive more there than she ever has here. She is coming home sooner than later, I just wish it wasn't breaking her heart so much.</div>
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I'm glad to have my baby girl back. I have a better idea of what I need to do to support her. Those are good things. We can give her some extra support and love so that she can fly when she feels ready. I think she feels like she should be flying now. She's seen most of her friends fly off to college and they seem great. She wasn't ready for that and that's okay. I hope she'll relieve herself of that pressure. If you have suggestions about how I can help her release that let me know. </div>
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I want to help her release those expectations and fears and that feeling of failure so she can be free. I realize that I too need to release my own expectations and fears and feelings of failure so I do not infect her any more than what's been done. Perhaps we can learn to fly together.</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">so what do you think? i'd love to "hear" your thoughts...</div>revhipchickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02219279071342600887noreply@blogger.com0