a block away from true self

I didn’t intend the pun in the title but as Pooh said, it wanted to come so I let it. 

It probably comes as no surprise that “true self” is important to me. This blog includes as labels both “Being Authentic” and “Integrity.” As often as I talk about it, “Wholeness” should be included on the list too. Today’s focus is a particular block to my wholeness

While I have no passion for getting ahead and almost no competitive spirit, I left my formative years believing that productivity and accomplishment were paramount. Rather than being my best self, doing my best – doing all that had to be done – became the rule for me. Anything less was failure. (I failed a lot.) I’m not blaming anyone. I was a product of the systems in which I grew up, yes, but I also interpreted the lessons I was taught through a too-literal lens.

I recall “creating” (with the aid of Trichem paints) a wall hanging as a teenager. Made of faux leather, it had a graceful tree, winding path, and the words “Happiness is found along the way, not at the end of the road” stamped on it. The hanging graced my parents’ home for decades, quietly mocking me when I’d visit. I believed the sentiment then, still do, but didn’t – somehow couldn’t – live in that belief.

Besides seeming to have a Type A personality when I really don't, I’m a One on the Enneagram. Ones are generously called “Reformer” or, less generously, “Perfectionist.” Both fit me. We can be:

• Highly principled;
• Judgmental and uncompromising;
• Perfectionistic, purposeful, and self-controlled.

We can

• Strive for integrity,
• Fear corruption, and
• Have a strong sense of the “right” and “wrong” way to do things.*

Don’t get me wrong. This can be good. Any “type,” when balanced, can be fine, healthy and strong. One can accomplish great things. And any “type,” when warped or lacking balance, can be unhealthy and leave one unpleasant to be around. That was me when I was living outside of my native self – with plenty of time-urgency and impatience.

Last month Kay sent me this picture of a panel from Rachel Smythe’s online comic Lore Olympus. (It’s really popular.) When I went back to count how many times “productive” had come up in five years of texts between us, we were both surprised that the number wasn’t larger. She was with me when I was pastoring three churches while attending seminary and working on an M.Div. I was there when she was earning a 3.96 GPA at a competitive university. I expected a lot of each of us and she took on some of this for herself. (I’m paying closer attention now to the messages I convey to my kids.)

“Look at the birds in the sky. They don’t plant seeds, harvest or gather crops. Yet God feeds them. Aspire to this!” Matthew 6:26 (Okay, I paraphrased.)

I believe in my bones that real joy is found in the journey, at least for me, but until recent years I didn’t even try living this way. Moments of wonder were wedged between tasks. And if they didn’t fit I simply bumped them to the next day, month or year. Escaping this pattern is surprisingly hard. One would think that 19 months away from everything and almost everyone would be long enough for it to fall away. I spoke to my friend about wanting to learn to travel without a focus on destinations last week and got a puzzled look. I guess it’s easier for some people than others.

Without making this into one more task to accomplish, I’d like to undo the decades of push-push-push. I’d like to relish the present more fully, take my celebration of the now into more facets of my life.

Maybe you’re right there with me, having lost a part of yourself somewhere along the road. What helps you to be more mindful of the moment? Or, maybe you have already lived through this puzzle and come out the other side. Again, what ways helped you to navigate it in a world that expects something so different from us?

If you have suggestions of things that have helped or are helping you, I’d love to hear them!

One of the things I enjoy about the movie Meet the Robinsons is Rob Thomas’ song, “Little Wonders”:

Our lives are made in these small hours,
 these little wonders; these twists and turns of fate.

Time falls away but these small hours,

these small hours still remain.

I sing along whenever its turn comes ’round on my playlist. Songs are go-to reminders to live more fully into myself but I could really use some more ideas.

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* From verywellmind.com, https://www.verywellmind.com/the-enneagram-of-personality-4691757 as last seen on February 25, 2022.

“She likes the sound of her own voice.”

When I began posting to this blog again last month, I wondered how my literary voice would have changed – not something I'd think about on my own but daughter Kay is literary. What if I found that I had little to say? Now that I’m away from churches, would my words find people? And if they did, would my thoughts be of value in them?

Observations? At first, creative juices moved sluggishly; topics weren’t coming. Was I going to be able to maintain a presence long enough to find out if it mattered? After a few weeks though, ideas began to flow. I wrote more pieces than needed and had to choose which ones to polish and publish. Readership is small but in rereading (and editing) early posts I was reminded that it had also been slow to grow seven years ago.

I wondered in passing if adding recipes might draw more views. 

Karen copied this recipe from the back of a 15-Bean Soup Mix bag decades ago.

Then Friday night while consulting anonline recipe for the cornbread which is our go-to accompaniment to bean soup, my friend grumbled about having to scroll past so much text before getting to the recipe. I don’t recall his words but they were along the lines of, “She likes the sound of her own voice.” I didn’t bristle but as one who writes, I wanted to defend. To her readers, all those words before the recipes (which I too usually scroll past) are entertaining and/or educational. This post included sections about U.K. terminology and making this GF cornbread dairy-free or egg-free. (Did you realize there are fine, medium, and coarse cornmeals?)

“She likes the sound of her own voice.” 

Three years ago, a church member and their spouse came to my office with a laundry list of complaints, only one of which was not related to my autistic ways: I talked about myself from the pulpit too much. I did. I admitted it. So did, and do, the preachers whose stories have most touched me and those whom I most respect. To prevent this kind of wrong interpretation, every few months I’d say again why I did it. Since this blog follows a similar pattern, today you get to choose whether to read an explanation or to scroll past.

When I’m in performance mode (as pastor or teacher) or with the ones I’m closest to, I talk easily. Yet by nature, I’m quiet, reflective, very introverted. Probably because of the autism, I find it difficult to say the things closest to my heart. Writing them is easier. I’ve long enjoyed the written word, prose and poetry, fiction and non-fiction. I enjoy shaping words to fit thoughts, though until writing a memoir last winter my longest works were those required for seminary classes and ordination interviews.

Do I like the sound of my own voice? Not especially. For too long, it was filled with insecurity, fear, longing, and anger. I didn’t like my life and my voice was a reflection of that. I have no formal training yet in recent years people have told me that I write well or that I should write. And I have things to say.

I write through the hollow places in my heart and the wounds that are yet healing. I write because of the silence I faced when others knew of my struggles yet said nothing. I write for the teenager who didn’t think to tell her parents about the bullying she faced at the bus stop each morning until years later and for the young woman who didn't recognize her own worth. I write because I am no longer that person.

It is in hearing each other's stories that we begin to make sense of our own. I expose my vulnerable places in the hope that my story will lend someone courage or hope. Will encourage us all to laugh at the absurd and to cry for no good reason that others recognize. And will offer those who need it permission to rest or to put themselves first or to say, “no!” 

In assessing these last six weeks, I affirmed with some pleasure that the blog’s subtitle “being real while running after God” still reflects my vocation. Too often, rather than authenticity society expects something more like “Minnesota nice” (a term learned while at seminary in the Twin Cities). Yet our true self is all we really have to offer the world. It’s the gift we are given to share with those around us. 

I don't know what you're facing in your life, what demons haunt you, what sorrow or pain assails you. My goal is to be present with you, to keep showing up as best I can, and to help you to believe, as the character Valerie writes in Alan Moore's V for Vendetta, “that even though I do not know you, and even though I may never meet you, laugh with you, cry with you, or kiss you. I love you. With all my heart, I love you."

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It's our choice?

 …encourage [each other] to be sensible in every way. Offer yourself as a role model of good actions. Show integrity… Titus 2:6-7 (CEB)

Somebody chose to do something stupid. (I can say that word here. In schools, it’s a no-no.) Maybe they didn’t think events would unfold as they did, but they knew better.

Somebody else’s sense of privilege led them to believe they were immune to consequences and they chose to do something stupid too. They also knew better.

Poor choices all around.

I have particular people in mind. You may have thought of certain other individuals as you read the above. Either or both of these sentences might refer to many individuals including you or me depending upon the day or the situation.

In my first draft, I wrote that each “did something stupid.” I changed the wording to “chose to do something stupid” because, tho’ some people would prefer not to think of it that way, we always have a choice.

• I chose to seek divorce after 25 years of marriage accepting that I might be alone for the rest of my life.

• I chose another action that, if it had reached my superior’s knowledge, would have ended my time in pastoral ministry even before Lyme disease did. 

• I chose to drink coffee even though my stomach hurt yesterday after I had a cup

In each case, I considered the possible consequences of my choice before ever taking action. But even if I hadn't, the choice was still mine to make. Part of growing fully into ourselves involves accepting this truth.

The core of Buddhist teachings – as I understand them – is that life is filled with suffering. There is no avoiding suffering yet we don’t have to be crippled by it. The first of the Buddha’s noble truths speaks of dukkha, a life that does not satisfy. At the core of all dukkha is craving or attachment. We constantly long for or cling to things that we think will fulfill us. We avoid that which we dislike. This grasping, clinging and avoidance is the source of dukkha. (That’s the second noble truth.)

My attachment to a certain idea of what marriage was supposed to be prevented me from accepting the marriage I had. I wanted a marriage like the one I’d expected. I wanted that houseful of children – most of them adopted – that I'd dreamed about and a home where we could live for decades. We moved often enough that we were accepted as potential adoptive parents in two different states but then moved before a placement could be made. I endured a lot of grief – I doubt it could have been helped – but I could have celebrated the life I had even as I grieved. Instead, I was stuck in dukkha.

Maybe it’s that I’m meditating more. Or maybe it’s just the accumulation of birthdays but I’m questioning my reasons for wanting one thing or another more than I used to. Not in the moment necessarily, but on reflection I ask: Why do I want to do this or buy that? What’s my reason for thinking I need to say something or respond a certain way. Buddhism introduces seekers to the Hungry Ghost. When I first read about the Hungry Ghost years ago, the image stuck with me. Let your mind create a picture of one with a large distended belly and a really skinny neck. This figure is, obviously, always hungry, always wanting more – more food, more sex, more fun... – but because of their small neck they never get enough to satisfy. 

When the answer to my inner question about motivation is Hungry Ghost, as it often is, I pause. I pray and listen. After a while if it still seems like a right choice, I may follow through. With practice, I’m becoming more comfortable resting with the possibility. Being pregnant with it, as my colleague Markus would say.

Do I still say stupid things? Definitely, but maybe less often.

Do not be deceived; God is not mocked, for you reap whatever you sow. Galatians 6:7 NRSV

If there are consequences, we accept them. Sometimes, forgiving ourselves is all that is needed. Other times, we need to seek or offer forgiveness in order to mend a breach. In each instance, we're called through our faith to face what we've done, to amend our behavior, to repair the relationship (if possible) and to love.

Always to love. This is the path we are called to walk.

“Anybody can love those who love them or do good to those who do good to them. Should you be commended? … Instead, love your enemies and do good expecting nothing in return. If you do this, you will be acting God’s children.” Luke 6:32-35 paraphrased

    

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Momentous

from Positivewordsdictionary.com

It’s Friday afternoon and I’ve done almost nothing today. I woke up at 6 but, after meditating, went back to bed and slept another two hours. I’m fine with this for it has been a momentous week.

In late December, I submitted an application to the Wisconsin Department of Instruction for a substitute teacher’s license. In the weeks that followed, I wondered about my decision. You see, when I was ordained I made certain commitments – to serve God among others – and while one can, and many do, serve beyond the local church, I hadn’t thought this would be me*. Actually, I’d been praying and considering this action for nearly two years, more since accepting that for the sake of my health I can never again serve a church as pastor, even part-time.

What would Bishop Jung say if I began teaching without first alerting him? I didn’t know but not knowing if my experiment would even work I didn’t feel compelled to notify him. Neither he nor my superintendent had checked on me since I began medical leave, and while both have big jobs, especially the last two years, this may have influenced my decision. Still, I struggled. What was I to do? As I did 25 years ago, I have prayed a lot, meditated to free my mind, listened. And listened some more. 21 years ago I received what seemed like a clear answer. Not so, this time.

For more than two years, I have worked toward healing and looked forward to a time when I might begin substitute teaching once or twice a week. Though it wasn’t the direction I’d expected my life to go, I’ve always loved teaching and, being able to think well on my feet, I’m good at subbing. I could serve God’s people this way. Subs are especially needed (and appreciated) during these pandemic times.

I believe God is good with this. Today’s UCC Still Speaking Devotional “First Things First” by Anthony Robinson clarified some of what’s been rolling around in my mind. When he was speaking at a conference, he encouraged a young pastor seeking guidance with current challenges to “ask God to show you God’s purpose, God’s calling and mission for your church. What is God calling you to do?”

Yes, churches need this message – regularly, but especially as pandemic leaves them creatively trying to figure out how to be and do church – but individuals, like you and me, also need to hear it. Robinson continued, “Call on [God] to show you that and give you what you need to be about it, and leave the other things to sort themselves out. I suspect it was something like that Jesus had in mind when he said, ‘Seek first the kingdom and these things will be given to you as well.’”

This is just what I needed to hear. I recall years ago reading a story about a teenager preparing college applications but not knowing which direction God was leading him. His wise aunt suggested that he prayerfully continue on his preferred course while being open to a possible nudge by God toward a different path. He took her advice and in so doing he grew more comfortable following God’s lead in his life. (I have too.)

By now, you may have guessed why this week was momentous for me. Last Thursday I got a call from the local school district office. They were ready for me to complete my paperwork, get a name badge and begin work. I went in Friday morning to complete the process. Monday I received notice that the state had approved my certification application. (Things falling neatly into place can also be a sign that we're following a right path.) I was excited as I haven’t been excited in a long while.

Wednesday afternoon I had my first hours of paid employment in nineteen months, substitute teaching 17 kindergartners. They are great kids and I had a wonderful time, tattling, squirming, and all. It was perfect. Thursday afternoon, I filled in for an elementary science teacher. Again, wonderful. Next week I help with 5th grade, special ed, and middle school math. I keep reminding myself not to overextend (I don't want a setback!) but this feels so good!

* In June 2020, I left pastoral ministry to focus on healing from chronic Lyme disease.

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