More Hopeful

Last week I thought the world was ending. This week things look better.

Sunday was an amazing day. I did my first full service and I think it went really well. More importantly, my whole family came out to support me, including those who haven't been in church in years and years.

For Mom's birthday/my Aunt and Uncle's anniversary, we went out to a fancy brunch. French toast and penne ala vodka always renew my faith in God.

Then yesterday at our first event of BGLASS week, 95 people showed up! It was amazing and definitely a sign that this community is turning toward a more open, loving stance.

Erin's coming to visit this weekend! I love seeing my MS friends because they remind me of who I am in a way and what I've been through.

All in all, I'm pumped!

While I take five minutes to catch my breath...

Hey everyone. Hopefully you haven't given up on me even though I haven't posted in a month. Things have been very busy. With midterms and working at a church, I feel like I haven't really had any time to reflect, but here are some things on my mind.

I'm very concerned about the cycles of Imperialism and its relation to religion. For instance, we read an article for class about the Spanish conquest of Latin and South America in the 16th century. Although they basically were committing genocide, the Spanish felt they were doing it for God. Sparing you from multiple other examples of this throughout history, I'll jump to the Iraq War. There is so much Christian language that goes along with the war that makes me very uncomfortable since it is ultimately also a war about gold, or oil in this case. I find it very important that the church speak the truth in these instances and yet I don't see it doing much now. What is our responsibility?

Secondly, I'm still struggling with the Katrina stuff. If you're like the rest of the country you've forgotten what that means and think I should get over it. But I continue to hear awful things from my friends down there, and none of the Presidential candidates are really talking about it. I wonder in all of Bush's talks about terrorism how he can't see that the gross ignorance and blatant racism in this situation is also some type of terrorism. Obviously I'm angry. And all this has been compounded by discussions on evil and providence in class these past two weeks. I'm not sure how Katrina fits into those topics.

Thirdly, I'm getting very excited for some time off and a summer in a city. I will have most of May off and then I'll begin my summer internship in Philadelphia. I know being back in a city, even if only for a few months will be a good change of pace. I really miss being anonymous, being able to walk around without bumping into a million people I know.

Speaking of summer, I'm taking suggestions for a summer reading list. Any ideas?

I met Anne Lamott!

On Thursday night one of my dreams came true. My favorite Christian author, Anne Lamott, came to speak and read at Barnes and Noble. If you haven't read her books, you just need to. She is known for her amazing faith journey, irreverance and the way she weaves Christianity with politics. She writes a lot about addiction, motherhood and being a woman. I just love her.

I have to admit, I was a little worried about going. I was worried that her real self would ruin the image I had of her in my mind. What if she was boring or rude? She definitely did not disappoint though.

I got to ask a question, which was one of my main goals. My question was if she ever edited herself or thought something was too far out there to write about. Initially she said no, but then proceeded to explain that she believes in the devil, especially as it pertains to addiction, but thought that was too much for most Christians to handle. Then when I met her and got my book signed, I told her how her writing has really freed me in a lot of ways to be who I really am. I was hoping she would invite me to come and live with her in California, but she didn't.

Some of my favorite Anneisms from the night:

"I don't know who shot the Holy Ghost." This came up as she was describing how many interviewers press her to have a more defined theology. It was Meaningful to me because we had just been talking in lofty terms about the Triune doctrine in class that day and I sort of thought it was all BS, that it's personal and emotional and nothing we can define anyway.

"If you're a woman over the age of 12 in this country and you aren't angry, then you've really missed the boat." On anger and how women aren't allowed to express it.

"We'll just do this one last time and then tomorrow we'll stop." On the voice of the devil and addiction.

"I'm stoked." The way God feels about who we are currently, not who we should or will become.

"Make mistakes." She talked a lot about this in terms of writing and creativity, but also in terms of life, that we've all grown up with this mentality that our best isn't really good enough.

One of the main reasons this night was so important to me is that I am currently thinking a lot about writing. I think this blog is a testament to the fact that I enjoy writing and maybe even am a little good at it. It's scary to me, but something I want to keep exploring. I don't think I've ever had complete time and freedom to really work on it so I want to seek out those opportunities.

Feel free to contact me with your Anne Lamott questions as I can now tell you what she smells like!

It's like Mardi Gras Happened in my Room

So funny story. This weekend as many of you know, I was in and co-directed The Vagina Monologues here at Princeton Seminary. As our "costumes" we all wore black with one piece of pink or red flair. Because I was doing a monologue on New Orleans, I wanted to have authentic Mardi Gras beads. I sent word to my friends there to "Send me somethin' mister!", that is, please mail me some pink or red beads.

However, due to bad weather up here and the holiday last week, all my mail got delayed and I didn't get the packages until today.

So now I have a million pink and red beads (with some extra funny ones thrown in). My room and possibly whole floor is about to be decked out!

I love my friends and their thoughtfulness. It makes me feel like I'm back home in the double wide.

Thanks Linda, Erin and Kerry!

A Dialogue on Prayer from the perspectives of Faith, Hope and Love

Tonight I went to my friend and former roommate, Erin's blog. http://www.erininmississippi.blogspot.com She's still in MS doing amazing work and she had these great thoughts on prayer:

Hoping and hoping....and hoping some more.
Back one sunny morning this past June, I went with two roommates to get a little ink. I had the word HOPE tattooed on my wrist. Brenna put FAITH on her ankle and Linda put LOVE on her arm. It was as important for me to share that experience with those two amazing women, as it was important for me to toss a little scripture on my person, as it was important to mark the theme of my year permanently. I debated over where to put that word and how to write it. I ended up placing HOPE inside my left wrist, facing me, in my own handwriting because I needed to be a constant reminder. I needed to be able to see it all the time. And in my handwriting, I hoped (good pun) it would remind me to have hope in myself.
Well, since putting that on my arm in permanent, black ink, I've been seeing hope everywhere, and nowhere, all the time. I have great hope in the church teams that come down here and change lives- those lives of the people they help, and their own lives as they experience a new kind of service and community. I see hope in home dedication ceremonies, church re-dedications, new business openings, bridge openings, and increased tourism. I see hope in the commitment and continued efforts of folks who've long past burn-out, but keep working and moving, powered by the grace of God.
But I lose hope every day too. Hope fades in the knowledge that funds are running out and agencies are shutting down while there are still so many homes to rebuild. Hope fades in volunteer villages sitting empty for weeks at a time. Hope fades as homeowners become more and more frustrated with the process that's gone on for far too long. Hope fades in another twister in Alabama, flooding in the Northwest, fires in California, and disaster upon disaster. Hope fades in the smog of agency and church turmoil. Hope fades in my own failures and limitations and feelings of burnt-out-edness.
For the past year and a half I've attempted to manage the ups and downs of my journey in hope with prayer. I've never been a good pray-er and it was something I decided to focus on upon accepting life as a churchy-worker-type two Augusts ago.
The thing is, I desperately want to be a prayer warrior. And not just for the awesome costume I imagine I'd get to wear. I admire the women in my life who will stop and pray any time any where. A man here once prayed with me over the phone and it blew me away. Folks that I've befriended on this journey really, really believe in this prayer stuff. For me, it's something I've always done because I am supposed to do it- like making my bed. I don't really believe in that either. I mean, you're just going to mess it up again later in the day, so what's the point! But I say my prayers at night, before meals, in church, when an ambulance passes, and whenever someone else asks me to pray for them or their family. And I mean it. I think. Kinda.
I tried prayer journaling last fall. It lasted about a month and a half. Wasn't for me. Then I tried prayer walking. I was just a freak talking to myself and almost getting hit by cars all the time. I attended Handsboro's weekly prayer meetings. I let Linda talk me into praying with her whenever she wanted. I sought guidance from my favorite religious leaders. I started doing morning devotions. I tried it all, but remained unconvinced.
Recently, I survived another rough fall. Another season that challenged me- professionally and emotionally, but more importantly, spiritually. Lately, I've been feeling that I'm failing that challenge. This prayer problem has been kicking my butt.
I called Lauren this week, because she's that church friend that I can ask anything- no matter how ridiculous or blasphemous or vulgar or ignorant- without freaking her out. I asked her if I don't really believe in prayer, if that meant that I don't really believe in God. She told me a hippie story about prayer as molecules of energy that made a lot of sense, but in that warm-fuzzy hippie way that you really can't argue with, since there might be a flake of truth to it and anyway you want it to be true because it would be so beautiful. But I'm still not convinced. Then Linda wrote a blog about people who don't believe in prayer. Then I started reading Eat, Pray, Love where Elizabeth Gilbert talks and talks and talks about prayer.
So the whole prayer thing is being thrown in my face big time. And I still don't have an answer. But I've decided to have hope. Hope in prayer. Hope in my prayer. I don't know if my prayers are really appropriate. I don't know if it makes sense for me to ask for specific or general guidance in prayer. I don't know if my prayers are silly. I don't know if my prayers are truly genuine. And I really don't know if my prayers are really heard....
but I hope so. I've decided to hope so.
I really, really hope so.



Then, I, Brenna responded with this as a comment on her blog:


ok so funny story about prayer. I applied to the international field ed program, which you know, and got rejected, which you know. But I think I got rejected because of prayer. On the app. we had to state what most in our faith we were struggling with and I put prayer, namely that I don't always feel it and often forget to do it. The people interviewing me looked like I had just said that I believed Crystal Meth to be my personal Lord and Savior. I tried to explain, my issues and the fact that I was working on it, but it didn't seem to work and I was rejected.

But I'm learning (and this might just be the hope of those who struggle with prayer) that prayer is not for the confident. It is not an easy conversation. I am learning to look at it as mere honest conversation with God. I don't expect anything -- I just want to get it out, unpleasant though it may be.

A professor here started class by telling us to not be afraid to think and say the crazy thoughts because the crazy thoughts might just end up helping someone else. I think this is what prayer is. I'm getting tired of my feelings about God being wrapped up in nice packages with big words that are afraid to feel anything. The great thing about our God is she doesn't leave when things get tough. God can take the anger, I think more so than luke warm sentiments. Anyway, I've preached too long and you know all this. I love you and you're fabulous.



Now to complete the triology you should go to Linda's blog at http://www.caligirlinthegulf.blogspot.com and read her thoughts which didn't allow themselves to be copied and pasted.

Lenten Blessings

Third Time's the Charm

I am currently on the cusp of round 3 of the "Hodge Plague". By my estimations, the plague begin in our dorm somewhere in November. I was immune for several weeks, looking at those infected with pity and also with a sense of "thank god that's not me".

For those of you unfamiliar with said HP, it begins with a day or two of a scratchy throat and a moderate headache. In phase 2, the disease moves into the sinus cavity causing congested and/or runny nose. Phase 2 lasts for anywhere between 1 and 3 weeks before the final, and possibly worst, phase sets in. In phase 3, the disease creeps into the lungs lingering like the smell of leftovers sitting in a car too long. It makes its presence known in fits of coughing and lots of phlegm.

As I said, I avoided the HP as long as possible until it caught up with me about two weeks before the end of the semester. Fine, I thought, I'll get it over with in time for the holidays. Sure enough, it was over for Christmas, only to return for final exams after the holidays. Now, as I am poised for the new semester, I am feeling the symptoms again.

Many cures have been attempted: sleeping for weeks at a time, intense amounts of exercise to sweat it out, swallowing dayquil capsules like candy, and alcohol. Yet nothing but the slow march of time seems to work, which is why I am dreading my third fight with the HP.

The thing about me is, I don't enjoy being sick and yet, the 3 bouts of HP combined with one serious stomach virus have made this time at Seminary the sickest I have ever been. This phenomenon has forced me to retrace my steps and see where I could have gone wrong.

1. The dorm is a cesspool of germs. This is certainly true, and yet I am no stranger to dorms and close living quarters (you will recall I lived with 5 roommates in a trailer last year). This cannot be the option.

2. I work with kids who are carriers of all kinds of things. Also a good option, but if true why wouldn't the symptoms have set in sooner, say in September when the work began? Plus, I pretty much beat anything they can offer in the famous "Student Teaching Hospital Visit" of 2005. Clearly, I can take the kids.

3.The stress of moving and settling in here is getting to my body. Definitely not a possibility. If you know me, you know this is one of my longest stints anywhere.

4. This building is old, with old heat, old dust and old air. Lots of people have weird aversions to that kind of thing. Maybe I do too. However, I did live in a disaster zone last year where the air was full of spackle and dust, in old buildings in a polluted city 4 years before that, and NJ (need I say more?) 18 years before that.

Hmmm...

Is my body rejecting all the theology, faith and church history? Is the HP the demons' way of escaping my body?

I think not.

Perhaps in regards to number 4, the air here is actually TOO clean, TOO pure, and TOO wholesome. Could my sickened self be craving some action, something gritty to make it well again? Do I need to breathe air that is more diverse, more complicated, more in your face?

Then again, maybe I just need some OJ and a nap.

From Mike Huckabee's Website (Theatre Ed. people don't want to miss this one)

Firstly, if you're wondering where I've been the past few weeks, let me remind you that we take our finals after Christmas, so mostly I've been elbow deep in books and laptops. Combine that with the holidays, traveling, and family illness, I haven't looked at my blog in a while.

Now though, as I sit listening to CNN's coverage of the Iowa Caucus, I begin to be intrigued by Mike Huckabee. If you know me, you know there's no way I would vote for him, but like a lot of people I met in the South, he seems like a nice gentleman that I could have coffee with and get some good stories from, despite some big political differences.

So I went on his website. I was drawn immediately to a section on "Education and the Arts". Finally, I thought, a Republican making sense. Many of us who are or have been arts educators know the No Child Left Behind Act is stifling creativity and imagination in favor of memorization and drilling via standardized tests. Apparently, Huckabee also wants the arts available to all children. But then he said this:

Music and the arts are not extraneous, extra-curricular, or expendable - I believe they are essential. I want to provide every child these "Weapons of Mass Instruction"

Seriously? Is the culture of war and violence so pervasive that he cannot communicate his thoughts about the arts (which by the way often serve to be anti-violent) without using a pun about WMDs?

Mr. Huckabee, I retract my coffee invitation.