Conversation In My Head

Towanda leaves her meeting where the architects' plans show double the size of the space she'd actually asked for for the church...which means double the rent. She is not entirely comforted by the fact that they will change it...is anyone listening to what she's saying? And, there's the whole basement as shared space which hasn't been factored into the rent cost...good lord, will I ever know how much this is actually going to cost us? Oh, and I will I have a job at the non-profit or are we seriously going under?? Oh god...

Towanda finds herself in the wrong lane and having to turn in to the parking garage of the snooty mall she hates. She pulls a u-turn to get out as quick as possible, stops and waits at the next light.

She realizes she's forgetting to breathe. She breathes. Sort of.

God: Don't panic.

Towanda: Oh, I'm panicking.

God: Well, don't.

Towanda: Easy for you to say. You're not going to pull that "let go and let God" crap on me, are you?

God: Uh, no. Just don't want you to panic. It'll all be ok.

Towanda: (dubious) It will.

God: Yes. Have I let you down before?

Towanda: Let's not go there.

God: I mean over the long haul. You watch for the signs, you know.

Towanda: I know. (pause) You're right, you've never let me down.

God: And today, you noticed the sign today, didn't you.

Towanda: Actually yes. Nicely played, having the organization I'd never heard of before until yesterday but that sounded like a great possibility for working together on detention center stuff appear out of the blue on the architects' plans and then show up for today's meeting. And wanting to meet me. Yeah, nicely played. Wasn't expecting that one at all.

God: You know I like surprises. And what about your new friend and co-worker, Quixote, who's decided he doesn't really need me, which is fine, and is completely suspicious of churches, which I totally understand...and he's helping you get started in Aurora. What about that?

Towanda: That was you? I hadn't even thought of that.

God: Of course. So you see, it'll all work out well.

Towanda: How?

God: I don't know. It's a mystery.

Towanda: That's not funny.

God: Why not? You love that line in the movie. You even used it in your theology final!

Towanda: Well, yes, but my life is not a movie, you see.

God: You're not in a very good mood today.

Towanda: You noticed.

God: Ok, Ok. Look, all I want to say is, don't panic. You're doing fine. I know there are times -- at leat 50 today -- that you want to quit --

Towanda: -- but just when I think I'm out you pull me back in!

God: What, you can quote movie lines but I can't? That hardly seems fair.

Towanda: Sorry.

God: That's ok. Look, you're almost home, just go lay on the couch for a bit, read the rest of the Sports Illustrated Baseball Preview issue, try not to get worked up that they picked the yankees to win the AL East, drink some water, try to get a handle on your breathing. Really, don't panic. Don't panic.

Towanda: Can you believe they picked the yankees?

God: I know, right? But...not helpful right now. Just breathe. Lay back in the boat. It's going to be fine.

Towanda: (deep sigh) Fine, okay. Okay.

The thin horizon of a plan is almost clear
My friends and I have had a tough time
Bruising our brains hard up against change
All the old dogs and the magician
Now I see were in the boat in two by twos
Only the heart that we have for a tool we could use
And the very close quarters are hard to get used to
Love weighs the hull down with its weight
But the wood is tired and the wood is old
And we'll make it fine if the weather holds
But if the weather holds well have missed the point
That's where I need to go

No way construction of this tricky plan
Was built by other than a greater hand
With a love that passes all our understanding
Watching closely over the journey
Yeah but what it takes to cross the great divide
Seems more than all the courage I can muster up inside
Although we get to have some answers when we reach the other side
The prize is always worth the rocky ride
But the wood is tired and the wood is old
And we'll make it fine if the weather holds
But if the weather holds well have missed the point
That's where I need to go

Sometimes I ask to sneak a closer look
Skip to the final chapter of the book
And then maybe steer us clear from some of the pain it took
To get us where we are this far yeah
But the question drowns in its futility
And even I have got to laugh at me
No one gets to miss the storm of what will be
Just holding on for the ride
The wood is tired and the wood is old
We'll make it fine if the weather holds
But if the weather holds well have missed the point
That's where I need to go

Another Song For The Boat Ride

"I Don't Ever Give Up"

I'm no kid in a kid's game
I did what I did, I've got no one to blame
But I don't give up, no, I don't ever give up
It's all I've got, it's my claim to fame

I'm no fighter but I'm fighting
This whole world seems uninviting
But I don't give up, no, I don't ever give up
I fall down sometimes, sometimes I come back flying

Liars are lying, airplanes are flying
Love isn't here, love isn't here
But it's somewhere
Time to forget me, but something won't let me
Love isn't here, love isn't here
But it's somewhere

And I cleaned and I washed up
This dream I don't ever give up
I don't ever give up, I don't ever give up
No, I don't ever give up, no, I don't ever give up
No, I don't ever give up, I don't ever give up

The one and only, Patty Griffin

Towanda Prays In The Dark

Tonight I got done setting up for our church gathering a bit early, so I wandered upstairs to see how the renovations at HappyChurch are going. I like to check in on their progress every week if I have time, and helps me feel connected to them.

It's getting on towards two years since I discovered HappyChurch. Kind of hard to believe. My first sermon was Palm Sunday, 2007, and then I did the 4-month interim while their pastor was on sabbatical, and then I did my field ed. internship with them, and then once my own new church started meeting last June (in HappyChurch's basement for free), I still have kept coming once a month, on the 4th Sunday, contributing to worship leadership and preaching occasionally.

When I walked into the sanctuary tonight, I suddenly felt moved to sit down in a pew, and just be still. So I did. I thought about the first day I came "to the office" as interim, after the pastor had gone, and it was just me. I was alone in the church, and I wandered around getting my bearings, figuring out the space and how to feel in it. I came into the sanctuary and felt a little overwhelmed, suddenly, by what seemed like a huge and sudden responsibility. So I knelt on the steps leading up to the dais (which aren't there anymore with the renovation) and prayed that I would do a good job, and that everything would be ok.

Which it was. It was HappyChurch that helped me believe that I could be a pastor. They didn't freak out when I got arrested. They've supported this vision for this base community, egalitarian model, liberationist, bilingual church from the beginning. I'm blessed to have found them.

Sitting there, I began to pray, and cry a little. I feel very thankful, and aware that big things are underway, and soon. Tomorrow we should find out if we'll get the space in Aurora, which we've been praying about for months. Tomorrow we'll finalize the partnership agreement and call letter between HappyChurch and my church and me...which means ordination is that much closer.

There are times when all of this is so frightening, when I have no idea if what I'm doing is the right thing, what God would have me do. I've struggled with not having a good metaphor/image to hold on to to keep me going.

So I was praying, really just saying "thank you" and "I hope I'm doing the right thing." I tried to meditate on the image of St. Francis building the church that my spiritual director suggested. Brick by brick. Create the space. They'll come.

I made myself giggle a bit when I realized that I'm pastoring the "field of dreams" church...if you build it, they will come. Of course, when Ray first starts building the field, no one is there, it's just a voice urging him on...but then little by little....

(I should add, we have a core group of folks, who find it very hard to come on Sunday nights...so sometimes no one's there but me and my cielo. The move to Aurora should change that, since we'll be able to meet on Sunday mornings. Had two new folks come to our info meeting tonight.)

The field of dreams church. Well, makes sense considering how much I love baseball, no?

Anyway, in my praying/meditating/whatever, I began to think about my little boat and paddle, why that image was not working for me, seemed to have disappeared from helpfulness. Then suddenly, there it was. Me and my paddle and Jesus. On the water, in the dark, no moon.

That's what it is right now. In the dark, no moon. No way to tell what's coming. Going forward (as far as we can tell...after all it's dark) anyway.

Back in the spring when I was shooting the class-five rapids, it was bright daylight. Then after graduation, Jesus made me get out of the boat and sit on the bank under the trees. It was dusk/dark, and he cooked fish over the fire, and gave it to me to eat, and told me to rest. I spent some time laying back in the leaves watching the starry sky.

I'm not sure when I got back in the boat, but I think I didn't realize it because I kept trying to imagine it in daylight. But it's not.

On the water, in the dark, no moon. It's not class-five rapids, but I can't tell where we going, no way to know if there's disaster ahead, or glory.

As I prayed, it was clear: Jesus is still in the back of the boat. Keep paddling. Yes, it's scary, but keep going anyway. And it's ok to go slowly.

And I realized, no moon means it's a new moon...new things, new creation. And, no moon means new moon and she'll come back out full again.

Praying there in the dark, in this sweet little sanctuary of this sweet little church, I felt more centered than I have in many weeks.

Me and my paddle and Jesus. Building the field of dreams.

OK, it's mixed metaphor, but whatever works, right?

Peace, y'all --

Welcome Back Home

Welcome Back Home

i'm walking down the street
patty griffin's heart-cracking voice
jangling in my ears
no bad news today
sun blinking through trees
people taking a second look
yes, it's a paddle

i twirl it around
pretend i'm paddling
think about jesus
behind me in the boat
the handle feels so good
in my hand, just right

i'm floating down the street
jesus is my riverguide
i dare the swat team
to come bug me
me with my paddle
when i walk by my park
my park, their headquarters

me and my paddle
me and my paddle and jesus

And i won't be afraid, i won't be afraid, 
and though the darkness may come my way
i won't be afraid to be alive anymore

no bad news today

me and my paddle and jesus

Preparation

• Finishing up a paper today.
• BlueEyes is taking me for a mani/pedi (something I've never done) today. She wants my feet, in particular, to be well tended to so that I will feel more grounded, rooted.
  
• Reading the Letter from a Birmingham Jail.
• Listening to lots of Sweet Honey in the Rock. Oh, and this:
  

• Enjoying my dreams...Ysaye Maria Barnwell of Sweet Honey showed up night before last, encouraging me to sing, loudly. Dr. Vincent Harding, emeritus professor at Iliff (among other things...follow the link), showed up last week, ten feet tall and cradling me in his arms.
• Got the chance to tell Dr. Harding about my dream, and he hugged me and rocked me in his arms. (OK, the man who worked closely with Dr. King, who helped draft King's speeches including "Beyond Vietnam," hugged me, and told me I was a blessing to him. I was completely humbled and nearly speechless.)
• Tomorrow I'm going to a global bazaar thing where my cielo's women's group is selling their handmade stuff. Supposedly there will be henna...what do you say, henna painters? Well, you can get henna'd. So I am going to try to get my feet henna'd, with a design of vines and leaves, again to help me feel rooted and grounded.
• Taking my vitamins.
  
• Breathing. Lots of breathing. I feel like I need to do a yoga sun salutation series today.
• Tomorrow night my dear friends will be coming over to surround me in prayer. The traditional chocolate communion will take place.
• My own praying, praying with my cielo.
• Preparing my trial journal, with quotes that inspire me, Scripture that encourages me, and photos of dear ones to surround me (or just to make me happy, like this one. Thanks, Anita!)

• Meditating on the imagery/metaphor that came from the Spirit to help me through this: I am in my little canoe, on the river, holding on to my paddle. Trusting my river guide (Jesus) to help me get through the rapids. Recognizing when I'm not actually IN the rapids and just enjoy where I am. Knowing I am alone in the boat (with Jesus), but my friends, my family, the ancestors, the martyrs, are lining the riverbanks, praying me safely home. The paddle...is prayer, breath, awareness, singing. Remembering that the rapids are not permanent, not the end of the river, but a "slight momentary affliction" that I will get through. Knowing that even if the boat tumps over, I will be fine.

Beautiful.

From Showings
-Julian of Norwich

And so our good Lord answered to all the questions and doubts which I could raise, saying most comfortingly: I may make all things well, and I can make all things well, and I shall make all things well, and I will make all things well; and you will see yourself that every kind of thing will be well...

And in these...words God wishes us to be enclosed in rest and in peace.

(thanks, Muser, for the quote..)