So... I'm thinking I'll give this blogging thing another go round. No apologies. No explanations. No caveats.
I don't remember whether it was when I was in high school or college... probably college... but at some point I started writing letters, long letters, to people. Not just to friends from home, or pen pals from childhood, but people I saw every day. People I talked to regularly. Usually it was because something was wrong, and I wanted to talk, but couldn't form the spoken words. Armed with a messy piece of carbon paper, yes carbon paper (so I would always know what I said) I penned at times tortured missives to those closest to me. Or, to those who had at one time been closest to me. It was almost like writing in my journal... only with the possibility of actual conversation, dialogue. I think some of my friends enjoyed it. Others tolerated it. Others ignored it completely. I found it almost exhilarating. On the one hand, it was cathartic -- an opportuntiy to say what I wanted, and needed to say, just the way I wanted to say it. It opened up a space for me to process joy and sadness, frustration, confusion, even rage. It was almost intoxicating. I would let the language spill forth, all over the page and then some. Then, I would fold it up, tape it shut, staple it, put it in an envelope (I was never one to pass notes in school, so I didn't know how to do all of the cool origami folds, oh well) and, yes, drop it in campus mail, slip it under a door, or tack it on a memo board. Or, put a stamp on it and send it to someone I didn't have to see the next day. Depending. And then... I would get a flutter in my stomach. "Did I really do that? Really? Why did I do that?" Granted, some letters had the capacity to get me into much more trouble than others. We won't go there tonight. Point is, I would nearly panic until my phone rang, or there was a knock on the door, or a similar piece of paper awaited in my own mail box. It was wonderful to be heard, if not always understood. I miss that feeling.
Truth be told, I still write those letters. Not all the time. Just sometimes. Sometimes they are e-mails. They generally aren't handwritten anymore. I've given up the carbon paper, opting for photo copies instead. I don't necessarily anticipate a response, as a rule. Truth be told, I suppose that disappoints me. But, it still feels good to write the words I may be afraid to speak.
Maybe this is why I am intrigued by this whole blogging idea. Maybe I still want to be heard -- by whoever will listen. I feel like I do a lot of listening. To a lot of people. Nothing wrong with that -- I tend to think that is a good thing. It's part of what I do. But, maybe the time is coming, maybe the time is here, for me to do a little more speaking.
As I write this, I am listening to one of my favorite, perhaps little known, singers -- Ann Reed. One of her songs that just played, "No Time Like the Present:" ... Notes to you, I'll write 'em down while one of us is not around, let's put 'em in a book that's bound called 'Things that Matter,' Yesterdays the day I thought Would never come and now it's gone Thats how years roll away Tend to what I've planted If I take it all for granted it'll fade..."
And, on that note...
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
High Pressure Religious Groups
As a religious professional working on a college campus... Wait a minute. Perhaps I need to clarify -- as an ordained minister/college chaplain -- I am not a big fan of High Pressure Religious Groups. Granted, every one's personal definition of "high pressure" may be different, but I am referring to, in highly technical terms, those groups that just kind of make you feel "icky;" those groups that would have you believe that they have it all figured out; those groups that so clearly have an agenda, they don't even take the trouble to hide it -- except when they do, and then they become down right dangerous.
Why the vitriol, so early in the post? Well, I just lost an hour and forty minutes that I will never get back to one such group. I had invited representatives from local churches to be a part of a student involvement fair on campus. It seemed as though this was the first time they had ever been invited, so there was some degree of excitement from the churches that chose to attend. One of the women invited me to come to an "event" with her -- a group of ladies she gets together with once a month was having a jewelry show and they needed models for each month. Would I like to come, and would I be willing to be a model. Thinking that this would be a good way to make a community connection, I enthusiastically said I'd love to. (There really should have been some kind of ominous music playing at this point. ) All she said was the group was called "After Five." Sounded innocuous enough. I thought it was an afterwork/girls night out type of thing. Shouldn't I know better?
Turns out, it was part of a network of evangelical women interested in leadership and fellowship and evangelism. I feel like I shouldn't say which one, because that just might constitute libel, or would it be slander? I can never remember which is which. There were a dozen or so youngish women there for the first time -- most of us new to the area. It just felt creepy to me. At the table where I was sitting -- no less than three homophobic remarks, and that was before dinner was even served. It's enough to make you lose your appetite, really. And that was probably a good thing, because they decided to do the fashion show as they were serving dinner. So, by the time we were done, our meal was cold. Another topic of conversation over dinner -- what different types of jewels are going to be in heaven. I missed this in Divinity School, some how or other, but apparently that very thing is listed somewhere in the bowels of Revelation. Were my webcam enabled, you would see me shaking my head at this point. I felt as though I had passed the point of no return very early on... but a definite line was crossed by the end of the evening. The speaker asked us to join her in prayer. And I'll be doggoned if she didn't pray what so many refer to as "the prayer" -- you know, the one by which you accept Jesus into your heart and formally state your desire for a personal relationship. Okay -- in my mind there are so many things wrong with that, I don't even know where to start. It isn't my intention to offend anyone (but, if you are reading this, chances are you don't offend easily) but... seriously?
I walked away from this evening angry and frustrated, but for many different reasons. One of those reasons -- I wish that the brand of Christianity to which I subscribe was as successful at making our case. I realize as I type those words that I don't even have a sense of what that would look like, or how that would work. And that disheartens me. Perhaps that is yet another thing for me to add to my list of things to do. And while I'm at it, I might just give some thought to a "to don't" list!
Why the vitriol, so early in the post? Well, I just lost an hour and forty minutes that I will never get back to one such group. I had invited representatives from local churches to be a part of a student involvement fair on campus. It seemed as though this was the first time they had ever been invited, so there was some degree of excitement from the churches that chose to attend. One of the women invited me to come to an "event" with her -- a group of ladies she gets together with once a month was having a jewelry show and they needed models for each month. Would I like to come, and would I be willing to be a model. Thinking that this would be a good way to make a community connection, I enthusiastically said I'd love to. (There really should have been some kind of ominous music playing at this point. ) All she said was the group was called "After Five." Sounded innocuous enough. I thought it was an afterwork/girls night out type of thing. Shouldn't I know better?
Turns out, it was part of a network of evangelical women interested in leadership and fellowship and evangelism. I feel like I shouldn't say which one, because that just might constitute libel, or would it be slander? I can never remember which is which. There were a dozen or so youngish women there for the first time -- most of us new to the area. It just felt creepy to me. At the table where I was sitting -- no less than three homophobic remarks, and that was before dinner was even served. It's enough to make you lose your appetite, really. And that was probably a good thing, because they decided to do the fashion show as they were serving dinner. So, by the time we were done, our meal was cold. Another topic of conversation over dinner -- what different types of jewels are going to be in heaven. I missed this in Divinity School, some how or other, but apparently that very thing is listed somewhere in the bowels of Revelation. Were my webcam enabled, you would see me shaking my head at this point. I felt as though I had passed the point of no return very early on... but a definite line was crossed by the end of the evening. The speaker asked us to join her in prayer. And I'll be doggoned if she didn't pray what so many refer to as "the prayer" -- you know, the one by which you accept Jesus into your heart and formally state your desire for a personal relationship. Okay -- in my mind there are so many things wrong with that, I don't even know where to start. It isn't my intention to offend anyone (but, if you are reading this, chances are you don't offend easily) but... seriously?
I walked away from this evening angry and frustrated, but for many different reasons. One of those reasons -- I wish that the brand of Christianity to which I subscribe was as successful at making our case. I realize as I type those words that I don't even have a sense of what that would look like, or how that would work. And that disheartens me. Perhaps that is yet another thing for me to add to my list of things to do. And while I'm at it, I might just give some thought to a "to don't" list!
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Traffic patterns
Driving in Delaware is an interesting proposition, shall we say. I am told this is an East Coast thing, but... U-turns are all the rage. Legal u-turns, at that. Often, it is the only way to get where you are going from wherever you happen to be. It is frustrating when I miscalculate the direction I need to be going and find myself on the other side of the divider, driving past my destination. It is also frustrating when I think I have gone too far, and turn around, only to discover I haven't gone far enough. I am quite certain that is one heckuva metaphor for life -- but I'm a little too sleepy to do all that much with it.
The connection I will draw... I came here full of excitement and enthusiasm (don't worry -- both are still fully intact) at the prospect of being able to do that which I feel called to do. I was so taken by the fact that the student body is racially diverse, that there was a true commitment to serving an underserved population. I continue to be taken, but I guess I am no longer taken in, so to speak. This is not easy work. Didn't expect it to be. Wouldn't really want it to be, but...
I am very big on meeting people where they are, and ostensibly helping them to get to where they would like to be. Some days, though, I feel like where the people are is somewhere I don't know that I've ever been. Or, I am startled by the "stuff" that gets in the way for folks. Perhaps startled isn't the right word... Perhaps caught off guard? Financial concerns are paramount. Huge. And, the idea of what college is supposed to look like seems to run right over reality.
Sometimes, at the end of the day, all you can do is sigh. Hopefully a weary sigh, more so than one of resignation. My grandma used to talk about being weary, and I never really understood what she meant. I understand now. I suppose I have for some time, but... It is a feeling of being bone tired, physically as well as mentally. And, try as you might, you know that you've not done enough to justify the weariness, but then, you also know that you've done all that you could -- for one day, at least.
And on that note...
The connection I will draw... I came here full of excitement and enthusiasm (don't worry -- both are still fully intact) at the prospect of being able to do that which I feel called to do. I was so taken by the fact that the student body is racially diverse, that there was a true commitment to serving an underserved population. I continue to be taken, but I guess I am no longer taken in, so to speak. This is not easy work. Didn't expect it to be. Wouldn't really want it to be, but...
I am very big on meeting people where they are, and ostensibly helping them to get to where they would like to be. Some days, though, I feel like where the people are is somewhere I don't know that I've ever been. Or, I am startled by the "stuff" that gets in the way for folks. Perhaps startled isn't the right word... Perhaps caught off guard? Financial concerns are paramount. Huge. And, the idea of what college is supposed to look like seems to run right over reality.
Sometimes, at the end of the day, all you can do is sigh. Hopefully a weary sigh, more so than one of resignation. My grandma used to talk about being weary, and I never really understood what she meant. I understand now. I suppose I have for some time, but... It is a feeling of being bone tired, physically as well as mentally. And, try as you might, you know that you've not done enough to justify the weariness, but then, you also know that you've done all that you could -- for one day, at least.
And on that note...
Thursday, August 19, 2010
The Other Shoe
Well, I know that it has been a while, but I wanted to let you know I haven't fallen off the face of the earth. I have just fallen face first into my new job, and am loving loving loving it! Today was Freshman Move In -- forty five minutes ago, the parents ostensibly drove away and we've got six hundred some young people more or less on their own for the first time. Let the games begin!
This is going to be very brief -- but then, since I haven't written in weeks, it just might seem like a major tome. Here's the thing. Since moving to Delaware, since beginning my new position, I almost feel like I have been holding my breath -- waiting for the other shoe to drop. Surely things can't really be as good as they feel, as good as they seem. When is it all going to come crashing down? I like to put on a good front as an optimistic soul, but I am a realist at heart, and let's face it, my reality for the past couple of years -- not all that stellar. (With the caveat that my friends are truly fabulous -- any one who could stand beside me and not run away -- you are okay in my book!) But now... things feel very different. Things feel very good.
I am thinking maybe, just maybe, that other shoe isn't going to drop after all. And that's more than alright with me.
This is going to be very brief -- but then, since I haven't written in weeks, it just might seem like a major tome. Here's the thing. Since moving to Delaware, since beginning my new position, I almost feel like I have been holding my breath -- waiting for the other shoe to drop. Surely things can't really be as good as they feel, as good as they seem. When is it all going to come crashing down? I like to put on a good front as an optimistic soul, but I am a realist at heart, and let's face it, my reality for the past couple of years -- not all that stellar. (With the caveat that my friends are truly fabulous -- any one who could stand beside me and not run away -- you are okay in my book!) But now... things feel very different. Things feel very good.
I am thinking maybe, just maybe, that other shoe isn't going to drop after all. And that's more than alright with me.
Monday, July 26, 2010
The Plan
When I moved to Dover, I had a plan. This plan involved a great many things. Perhaps it makes sense if I rewind to New Years 2009. I had one resolution -- only one. Simply, not to mention bluntly, put -- to give a damn. This included, theoretically, paying more attention to a good many things to which I hadn't been paying any attention. Of course, we have the big ticket items of diet and exercise, but also things like investing more time in relationships my friends, keeping on top of my laundry situation, even taking the time to complete an outfit with a necklace or earrings, or, *gasp* wear make up. So, that was my one New Year's resolution. And then, thirteen days into the new year, I learned that I would no longer be employed as of July 1. (I'm not going to go there, I mention this merely as a place holder.) Suddenly, I shifted into basic survival mode. I no longer gave a damn about giving a damn.
Fast forward to July 1, 2010 -- or June 26, or whenever it was when I actually moved to Dover. As I said, I had a plan. I still wanted to pay more attention to diet and exercise. I still wanted to stay on top of my laundry (made significantly simpler given that I have a washer and dryer in my apartment). And even with the jewelry and make-up... don't think I need the make up, per se. I am growing to appreciate the polish it seems to provide, though.
Anyway... another part of the plan involves writing more. One of the reasons I decided to give this blog thing a try, I suppose. I've always dreamt of being a writer... almost for as long as I can remember. When I realized how carried away I could become reading... When I discovered poetry, be it Shel Silverstein or Robert Frost... When I felt that rush of pride when I wrote a silly story or poem and Grandma or Grandpa or Mom liked what I had written. I still dream of being a writer. Only now I suppose I know that it doesn't need to be a dream. And yet... I have such a sense of hesitation. Maybe it isn't hesitation so much as out right fear. I could pretend that I don't know what I am afraid off. But, I would only be pretending. I am afraid that what ever it is I have to say won't be "good enough." I am afraid that no one will hear me. And I want to be heard.
Back to the plan... part of the plan is basic housekeeping... not allowing chaos to get the better of me. I'm doing more or less okay on that front -- everything is relative. I think it's interesting, though, that the one space in my apartment that I haven't finished organizing is the guest room. That is, the guest room that doubles as a study... where I am sitting right now as I write this. I don't particularly enjoy being in this room, because it makes me a little nervous. It isn't going according to plan. And, as long as this room makes me nervous, I am not likely to spend a significant amount of time in it, writing. Hmm... can you be passive aggressive with your self, do you suppose?
Well, now I have said it... practically in public. Now, maybe I will finish organizing and be done procrastinating... and write and write and write...
Fast forward to July 1, 2010 -- or June 26, or whenever it was when I actually moved to Dover. As I said, I had a plan. I still wanted to pay more attention to diet and exercise. I still wanted to stay on top of my laundry (made significantly simpler given that I have a washer and dryer in my apartment). And even with the jewelry and make-up... don't think I need the make up, per se. I am growing to appreciate the polish it seems to provide, though.
Anyway... another part of the plan involves writing more. One of the reasons I decided to give this blog thing a try, I suppose. I've always dreamt of being a writer... almost for as long as I can remember. When I realized how carried away I could become reading... When I discovered poetry, be it Shel Silverstein or Robert Frost... When I felt that rush of pride when I wrote a silly story or poem and Grandma or Grandpa or Mom liked what I had written. I still dream of being a writer. Only now I suppose I know that it doesn't need to be a dream. And yet... I have such a sense of hesitation. Maybe it isn't hesitation so much as out right fear. I could pretend that I don't know what I am afraid off. But, I would only be pretending. I am afraid that what ever it is I have to say won't be "good enough." I am afraid that no one will hear me. And I want to be heard.
Back to the plan... part of the plan is basic housekeeping... not allowing chaos to get the better of me. I'm doing more or less okay on that front -- everything is relative. I think it's interesting, though, that the one space in my apartment that I haven't finished organizing is the guest room. That is, the guest room that doubles as a study... where I am sitting right now as I write this. I don't particularly enjoy being in this room, because it makes me a little nervous. It isn't going according to plan. And, as long as this room makes me nervous, I am not likely to spend a significant amount of time in it, writing. Hmm... can you be passive aggressive with your self, do you suppose?
Well, now I have said it... practically in public. Now, maybe I will finish organizing and be done procrastinating... and write and write and write...
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Seven on Saturday
1. I am sitting in the back yard, because I can't pick up the wireless signal consistently in my apartment (the folks from whom I rent graciously share their wireless with me, but it isn't always all that reliable). It is hot out here. But not as hot, I think, as it was yesterday, when it was 98 degrees at 5:00. No thank you!
2. In spite of the fact that it was 98 degrees at 5:00 yesterday, I went to the Delaware State Fair after work. Sadly, ended up with a huge blister on the side of my foot. I have a thing about blisters. They make me almost queasy. Blood doesn't bother me, but blisters? Don't know what it is, but I just don't enjoy going there. But, ultimately the blister paled in comparison to a spontaneous evening of pulled pork, kettle corn, funnel cakes and caramel apples. Singular not plural. Stayed away from the fried Twinkies, though. Can't quite wrap my head around that. Felt badly for all of the pigs and sheep and cows and horses and such -- so very warm. So very smelly. Farm animals and fair food -- does it get any better than this?
3. Well, the grandstand entertainment last night, for which I splurged and bought a ticket, was none other than Paula Deen. She was so much fun -- I really enjoyed the evening. Even though the seats were nearly intolerably close together. I mean, come on! These are a bunch of people who like Paula Deen. We are butter people! We have hips!
4. I feel very fortunate to have such a supportive president, and upper level administration in general, as I get underway with this new position. Great meeting with the president yesterday. I can't say enough about how pleased I am to be here.
5. Speaking of the president... most surreal moment this week -- stopping at Five Guys (a greasy, greasy, but oh so wonderful burger joint with fabulous french fries), dressed in funeral attire, with the president and his lovely wife, while R.E.M. played in the background -- "It's the end of the world as we know it..." I kid you not.
6. Went to church last week in Bethany Beach. Can't remember whether I wrote about this or not -- I'm thinking not. Was a little apprehensive when I saw the right wing bumperstickers on the truck parked in front of me. You can tell alot about a church by the bumperstickers in the parking lot. But, I ended up liking the service. Kind of have mixed feelings about that, because I just can't drive that far every week.
7. Oh my. The older gentleman next door is doing yard work, without his shirt on. Let's just say it's not a good look for him. Maybe it's time for me to go inside....
2. In spite of the fact that it was 98 degrees at 5:00 yesterday, I went to the Delaware State Fair after work. Sadly, ended up with a huge blister on the side of my foot. I have a thing about blisters. They make me almost queasy. Blood doesn't bother me, but blisters? Don't know what it is, but I just don't enjoy going there. But, ultimately the blister paled in comparison to a spontaneous evening of pulled pork, kettle corn, funnel cakes and caramel apples. Singular not plural. Stayed away from the fried Twinkies, though. Can't quite wrap my head around that. Felt badly for all of the pigs and sheep and cows and horses and such -- so very warm. So very smelly. Farm animals and fair food -- does it get any better than this?
3. Well, the grandstand entertainment last night, for which I splurged and bought a ticket, was none other than Paula Deen. She was so much fun -- I really enjoyed the evening. Even though the seats were nearly intolerably close together. I mean, come on! These are a bunch of people who like Paula Deen. We are butter people! We have hips!
4. I feel very fortunate to have such a supportive president, and upper level administration in general, as I get underway with this new position. Great meeting with the president yesterday. I can't say enough about how pleased I am to be here.
5. Speaking of the president... most surreal moment this week -- stopping at Five Guys (a greasy, greasy, but oh so wonderful burger joint with fabulous french fries), dressed in funeral attire, with the president and his lovely wife, while R.E.M. played in the background -- "It's the end of the world as we know it..." I kid you not.
6. Went to church last week in Bethany Beach. Can't remember whether I wrote about this or not -- I'm thinking not. Was a little apprehensive when I saw the right wing bumperstickers on the truck parked in front of me. You can tell alot about a church by the bumperstickers in the parking lot. But, I ended up liking the service. Kind of have mixed feelings about that, because I just can't drive that far every week.
7. Oh my. The older gentleman next door is doing yard work, without his shirt on. Let's just say it's not a good look for him. Maybe it's time for me to go inside....
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Exhausted...
What a tiring couple of days. I have spent well over 12 hours in the car in the past two days, with various and sundry campus administrator types, traveling to calling hours and a funeral. It feels kind of odd to be, quite literally, along for the ride in so many respects. It feels very awkward to coming into contact with students for the first time in such sad circumstances. I feel at once detached and enmeshed, and it is kind of difficult to reconcile both at the same time.
And now, of course, the really difficult work begins, for the family, the friends, our students... figuring out what life looks like now. I look at their very young faces, and I know that they have been changed in very real ways by this tragedy. A loss of innocence, of invincibility. And that is the way of the world. I know that they have been changed, but I also know that, in time, they will be okay. Even if they don't know that.
I remember someone asking me, in the midst of their grieving, if it ever stopped hurting. How do you answer that question? I can only be truthful and say, not really but... but it doesn't always hurt like this...
And now, of course, the really difficult work begins, for the family, the friends, our students... figuring out what life looks like now. I look at their very young faces, and I know that they have been changed in very real ways by this tragedy. A loss of innocence, of invincibility. And that is the way of the world. I know that they have been changed, but I also know that, in time, they will be okay. Even if they don't know that.
I remember someone asking me, in the midst of their grieving, if it ever stopped hurting. How do you answer that question? I can only be truthful and say, not really but... but it doesn't always hurt like this...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)