Allons-y!

My bags are nearly packed... by which I mean most of the clothing I own is scattered on the floor of my sister's old bedroom.  My apartment is emptied and cleaned (thank you moving team of excellence, family, friends, and relative strangers!).  My temporary goodbyes have mostly been said.  And I'm nearly ready to go.

This upcoming adventure to London, a place I love deeply, is daunting in that the mission ahead of me seems like a big one.  This seems like what call might feel like - when people you love and who love you back rally around you and send you forward with all kinds of emotional, spiritual and financial support to follow that which speaks directly to your heart.  Daunting, an honor, thrilling.

I'll miss you all tremendously.  But three months in a magnificent city, working with innovative and lovely people to help rid the world of modern slavery?  Apparently this is my life, but I find that hard to believe most days.  Who is this lucky and blessed?

I'll be posting here often to keep everyone apprised of my journeys (geographical and spiritual), so feel free to drop me a line and let me know how you are doing.

with love and moxie,

Laurie... Geronimo!

Cosmic Misery-Based Brownie Points

            And other weird ways of life...  I can’t quite discern whether this is a Midwestern thing, a church people thing, or maybe just a me thing (seriously doubting it’s the last one), but I get the distinct impression that a lot of us feel the need to justify our behavior and choices by citing how not-fully-happy we are with them.  As if it is somehow more socially acceptable to do what you feel is right for you as long as you’re not doing it to make yourself happy.  As if someone is keeping a cosmic tally of the points and you get more if you're miserable.

            Sometimes this gets taken so far that we look at people who are doing what they want to do in life and are happy and succeeding at it and we think… whoa.  What the heck.  That is NOT how it’s supposed to be!  When really, it is not their happiness we oppose, so much as our lack of courage to believe that God wants us to be happy too.

            Now I’m not advocating some kind of solipsistic, greed-based approach to life.  I’m operating under the assumption that, for most of us, we get at least some genuine pleasure out of making other peoples’ lives happier.  But I think it’s perfectly acceptable in the Christian paradigm to believe that sometimes following your call will ignite a powerful and joy-filled part of you… and it’s absolutely right to be happy about that.

            Food for thought, and an accompanying promise for more frequent posts soon.

Run with It

Sometimes plans change quickly, but so often what ends up happening is way better than anything I originally planned.  My recent vacation to London, Paris and Cape Town afforded me the opportunity to meet with several individuals active in the anti-trafficking movement.  In London, I met with London ACTS which is a part of the group Stop the Traffik.  They are working to intervene with trafficking through research, advocacy, legislation, work in schools, churches and with law enforcement, etc., specifically leading up to the London Olympics next summer (note - more on this in an upcoming post, but trafficking invariably gets worse at large international gatherings like the Olympics, the World Cup, etc.). 

I also had the opportunity to meet with the organization with whom I had planned to work in Cape Town and realized it was not a good fit.  Just a difference in approaches and a high potential that the safe house, which is more of a shelter than a rehabilitation program, will no longer be occupied in the next few months.  I'm really grateful for the opportunity to find out in person rather than guessing over the internet, and it was lovely to meet the people doing this work there.

So, in short, there is an alternative opportunity for me in London to work doing church engagement, and in all sorts of other components of abolitionist work.  I'm working hard to be a good steward of all the financial and emotional support I've received from so many friends, family, and strangers, and this option seems like the best opportunity to work against trafficking for this leave of absence.  I'm very excited about the chance to work with London ACTS and Stop the Traffik, and appreciate your continued prayers and support!  And maybe some sympathy towards my immediate family as they try to keep track of me...

I'm back!

Well hello friends, family, and the apparent strangers in Russia who stats claim read this little window into my brain.  I apologize for the absence, but I've been traveling!  Here's a rundown on some highlights from the last few weeks:

-       Just after celebrating Easter, I boarded a plane for London, one of my favorite places.  There were many, many wonderful things about seeing London again, including:  The Victoria and Albert Museum, the British Archives, rowing in Hyde Park, Hamlet at the Globe, catching the sights and chaos around the royal wedding, a trip up in the London Eye (thanks to new friends Martin and Phil), and getting to know the work and people with London ACTS (of Stop the Traffik fame)… in the middle of my London time, there was a daytrip to…

-       Paris!  It was my first visit to the City of Lights, and it was everything I hoped for and then some.  L’arc de triomphe, the Champs-Elysee, the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, Sacre Coeur, the Moulin Rouge, crepes, duck in xerxes sauce, wine, and crème brulee.  Also, catching up with one of the greats of Princeton Seminary, and missing the train back which led to new friends Ann, Claire and Nancy who saved me from sleeping on the floor of Gare du Nord.  People are amazing and true hospitality is beautiful thing!

-       After Paris and a few more days in London (including the Doctor Who exhibit, which made my inner nerd impossibly gleeful), I got on a plane for…

-       Cape Town!  It’s going to take some time to process the experience of my first trip to South Africa, but just a fraction of what I saw there…  the Victoria Waterfront, the Castle (including a great museum about the Cape Town equivalent of carnival), Stellenbosch (which is a beautiful wine country area and university town), a braai with the Reynolds family (oxtail and mulva pudding!), Kirstenbosch (the South African botanic garden which looks like it’s straight out of Jurassic Park … I kept waiting for raptors to pop out), Simonstown (where you can scrabble over boulders to get within a few short feet of lots and lots of penguins!), Robben Island (a terrifying boat ride, a chance to see Mandela’s jail cell, and to talk to former political prisoners), the Slave lodge museum (where slaves were kept by the Dutch East Trading Company), the natural history museum, and the company gardens.

Cape Town is a beautiful and heartbreaking place at the same time, and I’m grateful I had the opportunity to go and explore.  This trip was booked long before my upcoming leave of absence, and I’m so very glad.  Very, very thankful for a life of occasional globetrotting adventure!

Maundy Thursday and Good Friday are Kind of The Worst

            It’s an honor to get to share the pulpit with three other preachers, particularly preachers after whom I’ve modeled my style and approach to ministry.  The only downside of sharing a pulpit means we share the Big Days (although, sharing the responsibility is one of the things I love most about my job – I have no idea how anyone preaches every single week).

            So it was a really pleasant surprise to get offered the chance to preach on Maundy Thursday this year.  How exciting!  And really, I told myself back in early Lent, what a great chance to stretch myself in terms of style.  I am an upbeat, throw-in-jokes, keep it light and breezy preacher by default.  It’s going to be a great chance to write something serious and a bit dark and sit with that for a while.  Yeah!  Challenges!

            All well and good, until I actually tried to write the sermon for tonight.  Oof.  I know why my other sermons are vaguely similar in style – it’s because I am an Easter person.  Every draft I wrote of the Maundy Thursday sermon (including the final one), Easter kept sneaking in, no matter how focused and somber I tried to keep things.  I’m a believer in the empty tomb and a creature of hope, so the struggle has been to sit with the pain of Holy Week.  It hurts.  It’s profoundly uncomfortable to realize that you can’t accept a guy like Jesus into your life if you don’t accept the ugly part of the story as well.  You can’t get to resurrection without death.  And my job today is not what it usually is, which is to bring people the reminder to hope.  My job today is to face a darkened sanctuary of faces I love and know we grieve together. 

… Until Sunday anyway.

Painting

            A nearly blank canvas rests on my easel, as it has for the last three weeks.  On it, a thin, crimson outline of a butterfly’s wings.  And numerous tentative sketch lines, all in pencil of course, all easily erasable should I change my mind.  Do I fill it in more fully?  Does it look quite right?  (I am absolutely no good at painting and paint only for my own joy, but I still occasionally slip into perfectionist territory).  Should I add details that take a butterfly out of the symbolic and into insect-ular reality?  Is this a butterfly that wants antennae and a body?  Or is it all smooth colors and merely a memory flashpoint to every other butterfly?  I pick up cerulean, slate grey, brilliant red, and nothing seems quite right … I can’t seem to settle on a specific path forward with this painting, so it remains for a bit, resting on the easel.  Sometimes this part of the process lasts just for days and sometimes weeks or longer. 

            Until one day it just happens.  It’s less of a conscious decision and more of a necessary capturing of an idea and a moment.  The canvas will catch my eye from across the room and, suddenly, nothing else will do but to finish the painting.  For better or for worse, I dive in and, a short, frenzied, paint-filled time later, it’s done.  It isn’t always beautiful, but that doesn’t really matter at that point.  It’s something of me on the canvas, and that’s both unnerving and exhilarating.

            There’s a lot of research being done on we millennials – our inability to commit to partners, jobs, raising families, long-term residences.  There are of course exceptions to this, and we all know people who are following the same patterns as our parents.  Your twenties were for finishing school, getting married, buying a home, starting a family, and starting your career.  Twenties, now, are increasingly for second degrees, travelling, moving back home with the parents, and trying on a thousand different plans and personalities.  Is it just the economy?  Are we a generation of commitment-phobes?  Or are at least some of us trying to sort out the mixed blessing of knowing all the possibility out there, having been raised to think we have the potential to do something extraordinary, and are now a bit immobilized by the choices?  And, particularly in the faith community, are we at once ecstatic about the possibility of having a calling in addition to a profession, and humbled into inaction by the gravitas of such a life? 

            The story and reasons are different for each of us.   As for me, I’m ready to paint.

Day of Nothing

 Inspired by a co-pastor of the church I serve, I chose yesterday as a good day to give up.  Kathy, a long-time inspiration and one of the main reasons I wanted to become a pastor in the first place, preached about letting go of all the things we “should” be doing as spiritual practices, and instead focus on genuinely being. 

My name is Laurie and I am a to-do-list-aholic.  It gets so bad that I occasionally write down things I wouldn’t dream of not doing, just to have more things to cross off the list.   “Brush teeth”. “Cook dinner”,  “Put gas in the car”.  Check, check, check  Yeah!!  …… Yikes.

 I relish the sense of achievement of a day running errands and getting things done.  At times, I feel like all the things I do and achieve and accomplish define me.  I’m not alone.  We’re an accomplishment-oriented culture.  But it certainly begs the question … who am I when I am not “doing” anything?

Yesterday, I “did” almost nothing.  I caught up with some friends.  I watched a movie.  I finally got around to reading Slaughterhouse Five, and definitely include that on the list of “books I cannot believe I got an English degree without anyone making me read”.  I made a laughable attempt at concocting my own pasta sauce out of whatever passed as food in my fridge.  I thought.  I prayed.  I refused to feel bad about all this nothingness.  It was awesome.

I did not run to the bank, grocery shop, write letters, catch up with phone calls and emails, write my next two sermons, prepare for going before Presbytery next week, or anything remotely strenuous or productive.  It was technically my half-day off, but normally I’d fill it just like that.  None of those things are particularly urgent.  They could all wait at least one more day.

Sabbath has morphed into a hurried, ridiculous, mad-dash to finish everything that doesn’t get done the rest of the week.  I sometimes feel like even my most treasured relationships get turned into to-do-list victims.  I’m now making a conscious effort to stop that.  To worry less about what I’ve done and focus more on who I am and who I will be.  Even if that means sometimes I do nothing at all.

(Thanks, Kathy!!)