Whiny Thanks and All ...

I have just finished, I hope, one of the busiest periods of my professional career.  And I am exhausted. I have finished my first book, been on the curriculum revision committee at the seminary where I teach, created a brand new course and taught it this semester, had a lot going on in my church and personal life, presented at the meeting of my professional guild, and have taken on too many writing obligations than I should have. So I am beat.

But I am also so amazingly aware of how blessed I am. I have a family I love, a job I adore, students who inspire me, writing jobs that challenge and engage my mind, and I love to teach new and old courses alike. So I am blessed.

I watch friends and even family members struggling without jobs or suffering in jobs they do not enjoy or are not fed by. I watch colleagues struggling with job searches and reduced teaching loads. So I am thankful.

I have not blogged in a while because my writing was focused on my book. I have not felt good about it and have complained because I missed it terribly. But I hear friends and colleagues struggling to get what they want to say on paper and I am aware again how lucky I am to have these projects and contracts to write. So I am appreciative.

Many times, however, when I am busy and tired - I whine. Many times when I over schedule - I whine. Seldom do I stop - and just sit in gratitude and bask in the blessing.

So this past month I took on the Gratitude Challenge on Facebook. I wrote every day of the month of November about things I was grateful for. Some were silly ... like being thankful for ice-cream. Some were situationally based ... like being grateful for a fantastic sermon preached in class by one of my students.  Some were family focused ... like being grateful for the heritage passed on to me from previous generations and the chance to pass them on to my son.

Some were about vocational and personal happiness ... like being grateful for a job I love and the terrific house that is part of my compensation and the chance to live in our wonderful community. And some were deeply personal ... like being thankful for the safety of my son when some friends of my niece were in a terrible auto accident. And some were intensely spiritual ... like being grateful for being part of my faith community in its inclusive, progressive, challenging, incarnational, and prophetic reality.

I am writing this after Thanksgiving week and at the end of the Gratitude Challenge on Facebook - a natural time to stop and give thanks. And I am immensely thankful for all of these things, people, situations, communities, etc. But today I also want to say thanks for keeping me busy, for making me crazy with deadlines, for my family and community, and for obligations that bless me and my vocation.

I may still whine and complain when I allow too much on my plate, but even in those times I want to stop and say thank you. I am grateful for my life - and all that is part of this fantastic existence that God has blessed me with.

Thank you, God for my life - in the craziness and in the calm.

Thank you, God for my family - in their lovely absurdity and in their caring.

Thank you, God for my faith - in the times of doubt and in the moments of certainty.

Thank you, God for my job - in the crush of papers and in the moments of grace.

Thank you, God for my church - in the challenges and in the growth.

Thank you, God for my parents - in their aging issues and in their spry youthful joy.

Thank you, God for my writing - in the moments it rocks and in the ones when it sucks.

Thank you, God for your presence - in all times and in all places.

Thank you, God, again, for my life - in the blessings and in the pain.

Thank you, God.

Me and My Stuff

I heard a comedy routine some years ago by George Carlin about STUFF. I still remember it:

“That's all I want, that's all you need in life, is a little place for your stuff, ya know? I can see it on your table, everybody's got a little place for their stuff. This is my stuff, that's your stuff, that'll be his stuff over there. That's all you need in life, a little place for your stuff. That's all your house is: a place to keep your stuff. If you didn't have so much stuff, you wouldn't need a house. You could just walk around all the time.”

The routine continues to talk about getting so much stuff you need a bigger house for your stuff, you go on vacation and need to take just a bit of your stuff, and after trips you bring home more stuff, etc.  It is raw and rough in spots but I love the bit, because it is so dang true. The acquisition of “stuff” is part of the American reality for most.

We are moving this month and going through all of our stuff – decisions about keeping stuff, giving away stuff and moving stuff is a big part of our lives right now.  We have bags of stuff to give to Goodwill or some other charitable organization. We have bags of stuff that is going out in the trash.  And other stuff is getting packed up to load on a truck and take all the way to our new house – a mere 15 blocks away. But we have to pack up as if we are moving cross country almost.

And the stuff is amazing. Going through your stuff is a kind of archeological dig of sorts. We have talked about items in my son’s room that he wanted to hear the story about. We have talked about priorities in regards to what stuff we have and how we use it – or don’t use it. We have talked about how to decorate the new place with our stuff. And we have talked about the need to acquire less stuff in our lives.

We discovered that we have stuff we have not used in the two years since we moved here – so it is getting tossed or given away unless it is a keepsake. We have stuff that is important so we cannot pack it up until closer to the truck coming to load. We have stuff that has to go with us and stuff that we’re still debating about keeping.

Stuff can weigh us down. Stuff can make us possessive and oppressed. Stuff can separate us from ourselves, from others, and from our God. Stuff is not what God wants for us – God wants faithful living, nurturing relationships, spiritual formation, living missionally, and building family, among others.

Truth is … me and my stuff need a reality check.  What is important in my life is not going to fit in the back of the moving truck. I need to remember that fact.

(And I'm not even gonna get into the "unpacking" of my stuff ... that's for another blog)

Being Part of the 10% ... Having An Attitude of Gratitude

A favorite image of forgiveness to preach about this time of year is the passage in Luke 17: 12-19 of Jesus healing the ten lepers of their disease.  In the text - as Jesus is passing by them - the ten leprous men cry out for him to heal them and he tells them to go show themselves to the priests. As they went they were healed. All ten are miraculously healed by Jesus but only one of them returns to Jesus to give thanks for that act of compassion. 

Much is made of only one returning.  Most talk about the lack of gratitude on the part of the nine who left and never returned.  Some will talk about the fact that the others may have been so overwhelmed with their ability to reconnect that they rushed to be with their friends and families or that they left to go profess thanksgiving in their own faith traditions, but the one who came back to give thanks gets the most mentions.  The nine are often chastised as being ungrateful, even though we have no clear idea why none of those nine returned.  The point of the use of this text is the gratefulness of the one.

So the logical question for this Thanksgiving Week is to ask how grateful we are. Do we have an attitude of gratitude? Are we part of the 10%?

I know this past week or so I have had some amazing experiences:

·         My son turned 13 and his team won their soccer league championship game

·         I became ill and had great health care options to get better

·         I was asked to preach at RevolutionNYC Church in Brooklyn and had a blast doing what I love

·         My father had foot surgery and came through with flying colors

·         I am off this week and get to enjoy some resting, writing, and being with family time.

These are all things that I am extremely thankful for, but there are so many more.  I am thankful for my home and the roof over my head.  I am thankful for the heat that keeps my family warm and the food in our cupboard that keeps us fed.  I am thankful for my education and experience that allows me to do what I love for a living.  I am thankful for my sisters who keep me sane and help me through tough times (even though they can sometimes also drive me insane).  I am thankful for my parents who are healthy and active into their late 70s and who have supported me so amazingly throughout my life. 

I am thankful for those people who have fought for my freedom in the armed forces and in civil rights and social justice movements throughout our history.  I am grateful for my faith and all of the people who led me to understand God in ways that make me strong as a disciple of Jesus Christ.  I am grateful for my church family that blesses me weekly with their worship and willingness to support each other.  I am grateful for my denomination, even though I disagree with it on several key issues.  I am grateful for new trends in creating and being church that gives me hope for faith communities of the future.  I am grateful for the school that my son goes to and for the education he is receiving.  I am grateful for friends and family who are special parts of my life journey.

I am grateful for the opportunities that living in America provides and for the responsibilities I have as a citizen to hold my country’s feet to the fire.  I am grateful for Occupy Wall Street and the ways they are calling for justice and economic balance. I am grateful for the election process that lets us get to know our candidates, even though they make me crazy with their limited plans, promises and partisanship. 

I want to be part of the 10% this week … but more than that I want to be part of the 10% all year long.  I want to live with an attitude of gratitude.  I want to turn around and walk back to the one who makes me whole and say “Thank you, Jesus.”

Cleaning House Makes Me Happy!?

I am admitting something on this blog.  It is something that I often don’t admit publicly but most people who know me will not be surprised by the news.   I inherited it from my parents and I have even passed it on to my son in some small ways (though maybe not as much as I wish I had).  It is hard to hide and even harder to explain sometimes but I will tell you anyway.  I have OCD (or CDO with the letters in alphabetical order as they should be).   OCD is Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.  It is defined in my life as needing everything to be in order, wanting every place in my life at home and at work über organized, and being personally and systematically ordered in the things I do.  My sock drawer is organized by color, I have files for everything and know where they are, and my digital calendar is color coded for different types of events for each person in the family.  Sometimes it drives my family crazy.  And truth be told – sometimes it makes me a bit frazzled as it affects others.  But it is my life.

It also made me annoyed at times when I was younger and living with my OCD parents.  I would take my tea glass into the living room to watch TV or something.  Later I might go into the other room for a minute and when I returned my glass was in the dishwasher.  My Dad would threaten to leave us if we were not in the car when he was ready to go – but I do not remember if he ever really left us.  It was not always a lot of fun but they taught me to keep things in order, that on time meant being there five minutes early, and to make sure I got things done on time.  I am grateful in a way since there are a lot of things about my OCD that are very helpful in my life.  And my OCD is not debilitating – like it is for so many who deal with the condition on a daily basis.  I pray for those afflicted in ways that keep them from accomplishing all they could in their lives and for those who have overcome OCD to live full and productive lives.

But for me it is still a persistent way of life.  I get up and do thing in the same way day in and day out.  My house has to be clean and organized or it makes me cringe – and living with others who do not have OCD means I do cringe on occasion.  In academia it is a bit odd to have an organized office, but my desk has nothing out on it unless I am currently using it.  Some of my colleagues are well known for piles of books and papers in their offices to the point that no one can even visit and find a pace to sit.   I know it’s a bit cliché, but some of my professor friends make it real on a daily basis – and I love them for it (even if we cannot have a meeting in their office).

But the need for order sometimes causes conflict.  My 12 year old son and I have very different ideas about what a clean room looks like.  He thinks as long as his piles are not falling over it’s ok.  He thinks as long as the clothes are near the hamper it’s alright.  He thinks a messy desk is the sign of an imaginative mind.  He thinks the fact that all of this drives me crazy is reason enough to keep it the same.  I guess that is more a part of being 12 than it is a reaction to my OCD but it is more than likely a bit of both.

The debate in my house is about whether my needs should supersede his.  The debate is one that comes up often.  Part of me wants to teach my son the same things my parents taught me – about order and being responsible.  But part of me wants him to be his own person and create his own style.  Right now – unfortunately the OCD side of me wins more than the other side. 

What does it mean to pass something on to the next generation?   I hope it means passing on the good things.  So what I want to pass on to my son is not just flashes of my OCD.  I want to pass on compassion, love of others, faithful living, joy of life, good humor, enjoyment of reading, love of learning, care for the earth, and kindness to all.  If my son gets this from me I will be one proud and happy Mom.  I will also be happy if his room is clean but I’ll take what I can get.  

Home Sweet Home!

I just returned from a 10 day vacation with my family.  It was amazing, fun and restful.  (I actually shared some of my trip in earlier posts.)  We spent time with friends in Ohio then spent some adult time in Chicago.  It was a blessing and a treat.  We drove 1840 miles and visited 5 states.   I know some people would consider being in a car with their family for 1840 miles in 10 days to be a nightmare – but we had a blast.  Part of the reason it was fun was that we are a family that enjoys spending time together.  We like each other (most days).  So it was great to be away with the people I love.  We talked, sang, played games, and just took our time being together.

But by the time we were heading home – I was very ready to be home.  I wanted to sleep in my own bed, sit in my own chair, control the remote to the TV, and have my own space.  I wanted to be home.  We have only lived in Philadelphia for a year but it is home for us now.  It is where our family makes its life, worships and plays together, goes to school, and it is where our stuff is.

I grew up as a preacher’s kid – a PK- who moved around all through her childhood.  From birth to High School I lived in 6 places.  Since graduating and going out on my own – I have lived in 5 states and in a number of apartments and houses (I tried to count but I couldn’t come up with a number).   My Mom, a United Methodist preacher’s wife, used to say, “Home is where the Bishop sends us!”  When we would move my folks would have our rooms set up by the end of the first day and we would be completely moved in within 48 hours.  My own family does it in 72 hours but we try.  That is because we know that the place where we live is our home when we make it our home.

Home ought to be a place full of memories, people we love, places we feel comfortable, and feelings of acceptance.  Home ought to be where we find our true selves and can be who we are meant to be.  Home ought to be where we find sanctuary from the outside world.  But for many that is not what home looks or feels like.  For many home is a place where they are ridiculed, made fun of, physically or sexually abused, psychologically battered and more.  For many home is a scary place and for those situations I pray for relief and safety.

I know that I was very lucky.  My home was a place where we were nurtured, praised and loved.  We were allowed to explore our true selves and we were affirmed in that search for self (even though there were certainly times when I clashed with my folks on my journey).  My parents helped me grow up spiritually and emotionally.  My parents guided me through a time in my youth when I was pretty sick.  I had epilepsy and some learning disabilities from a traumatic birth.  My parents were told that I would never graduate from High School but they said – “nope, that’s not happening to our kid.”  So my Mom spent hours helping me learn how to learn – and I graduated from High School, from college, have two Masters degrees, and have a PhD (most with honors).  All because in my home – my parents wanted the best for me and would not take no for an answer.  It was an amazing gift and for me it changed my life.  It was my home – a place where I was cared for and helped to succeed.

I know not everyone has had a great experience of home – but I did.  And for that I am extremely grateful.  I am grateful for a Mom who spent hours helping me overcome my learning issues.  I am grateful for a Dad who loved me and helped me grow in my faith and self-confidence.  I am grateful for my sisters who made my life journey very interesting. 

And I am grateful for my own family and our recent vacation.  New memories were made, new sights seen, and new bonds were formed.  My home is a sweet place – because I am loved there.  And I am working as hard as I can to create the kind of home I grew up in.  I’m home – wherever that is— as long as I am with my family.