NowNotYet

Theology of Surprises

2009-06-29T09:33:00.000-07:00

Many of you have read my posts about my growing obsession with my Beloved Community from Old St. Pats. Love these people.

Anyway, I attended a dinner last night and Terry-Nelson Johnson, the spiritual formation guy at Old St Pats spoke about the Theology of Surprise.

Basically, in a nutshell, it's what happens when you say to yourself, "This is NOT what I expected!"

That's what I say about my life pretty much every day. This is not what I expected.

But just when life is not what you expect is when God can surprise you. Good things can happen. Just not what you expect.

And surprised are often difficult, but full of grace.

Like a job loss. Not what I expected. But filled with good things like getting to spend more time with my husband. Feeling like I can finally follow some of my dreams because, really, I have nothing more to lose. Finally getting out from under the 9-5 cubicle grind.

So are we open to these surprises?

Often, I must admit, I am not. I want security. I want to know the rest of the story. I want predictability.

I must discipline myself to be open to surprise. To let go of my illusion of control (because, really, it IS just an illusion), and the arrogance that I've "been there, done that."

I want to be open to living differently. To taking the side route. Not letting the feeling that "all surprises have passed me by" become reality.

There's new life coming....there's new possibility....something new can happen if we are only available, vulnerable, open, and humble.

God joins us in our chaos. He's with us in the surprises that are difficult but full of grace.

Amen.

What's going on?

2009-06-19T08:07:00.001-07:00

Looking at my number of blog posts for the past few months, I'm averaging about one a month. That's pathetic! I'm not sure why I'm not posting more. I guess it's because I think no one will want to hear about my rants about my lack of work, our lack of money, or this stinking economy.

It's a scary time, people....I don't know if anyone else is feeling it like we are, but it's frightening to think that we don't know what the future holds. I've always had the feeling that if I lost my job, or the freelance work wasn't coming in, I'd be able to make it by temping or working at Starbucks. But with so many people out of work, even those jobs are hard to come by.

But we are thankful for the little work that we do have. David is freelancing, and working part time at a counseling practice (although it will be a while before he builds up his client base...), and I just landed a website project that will keep me busy for a few weeks.

Every day I see things that make me grateful for what David and I have: A roof over our heads. Food. The work that is trickling in. We have friends and family and each other.

In Chicago, we always see homeless people begging at intersections. They wait for the light to turn red, and then they walk in between the two rows of stopped cars with a cardboard sign that reads "Homeless and hungry, please help" or something like that. Most of the time you see the same people at the same intersections. It's hard to know what to do. Once, I was eating a sandwich in my car and one of these beggars looked into my car longingly. I handed him the untouched half of my sandwich, and he stuffed it into his mouth. Other times, I give money. And sometimes, I just look away and pretend not to notice them outside my car window. It's hard -- I've heard that you're never supposed to give homeless people cash because they may spend it on drugs or alcohol.

I've noticed lately that different sorts of people are begging at these intersections. They're not the typical homeless men with dirt-caked jeans and mismatched shoes, who feign a limp to elicit sympathy. The other day I saw a 30-ish middle-eastern woman who was holding a picture of her three children. She was clean and had a desperate look on her face. I had no money with me, otherwise I would have give her the entire contents of my wallet.

At least we have food. And while I'm frustrated that our adoption is on hold until we find steady work, in some ways I'm grateful we don't have three children to feed.

When you feel uncertain about the future, it forces you to focus on today. On this moment. I will go crazy if I think months down the road. I'm just living day to day, and as scripture says:

"For this reason I say to you, do not be worried about your life, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?"

I've always been a worrier. And there are times when I still wake up in the middle of the night and think of all of the Worst Case Scenarios: What if we don't find steady work? What will happen if we run out of money? What if the economy doesn't turn around soon?

But slowly, I'm learning to let go of that worry and just focus on today. And maybe that's the lesson I'm supposed to learn through all of this.....

More graduations!

2009-06-06T07:16:00.001-07:00

Last weekend I attended my niece, Claire's high school graduation. She was valevictorian of her class. As you can tell, she didn't get her smarts from her aunt Karen, seeing as I don't even know how to spell "valevictorian." I think there's a "d" in there somewhere.....

She wrote a lovely, very mature speech that had to do with not judging people on how they seem on the outside, and that it's never too late to pursue your dreams. I hope she remembers it when she's my age. I hope I can remember it as I sit in front of my computer screen and wonder if I'll ever eeeek out a well-written novel.

I saw her writing notes on the backs of her graduation photos to give to her friends, and remember doing the same thing. These gorgeous and talented young men and women who are her friends have their whole lives ahead of them. College! Oh, what a fun and special time when your whole world is opened up. I remember leaving a philosophy class one day feelings like I was on drugs -- the euphoria was that great. And leaving chapel after hearing an inspired speaker and feeling like I could change the world.

Now, 20-some odd years later, after reality has smacked me in the face more than once, I still have those feelings once in a while. I wish I had them more often. But that doesn't mean that life isn't fulfilling and beautiful and adventurous. It's just that it looks a little different than it did on the college campus when I was wearing Izod polo shirts, a plaid skirt, knee socks and loafers (okay, it was the preppy era). Growing up means realizing you have more limitations than you think you have, and you discover that you may not be able to change the world, but you can change your small little part of it. And maybe you're not going to be a famous novelist, but the small things you write will maybe speak into the life of one person. And that's enough.

You also discover that maybe God needs to change you before you can change the world. You need to learn how to love better, and give better, and be more kind and less self-centered.

These are not easy lessons. But opening yourself up to them brings great rewards and fulfillment. And not learning them will lead to a small life of self-absorption and bitterness. Who wants that?

I wish I could tell my nieces and nephews all of the lessons I've learned in the past 20 years. I wish I could spare them the difficulties in life. But they will have to learn their own lessons, in their own ways.

My advice to them is to:

Not let fear keep you from love, or the work you love, or the adventures you want to pursue.

Keep your eyes open for grace. You'll find it in the most unexpected places and times.

Learn how to love unselfishly.

Remember that treasures will be found in the midst of ruin.

Don't live someone else's dream.

The most important thing -- even more than being successful or smart -- is waking up every morning and wondering who you're going to love that day.

Oh, there's so much more. But these are all lessons that will be learned through living your life. So just be open to them.

Oh, and don't forget to keep hoping, even when it seems like there is no hope.

That's the most important one.

Spring = Hope

2009-05-25T10:27:00.001-07:00

I love Spring. It's filled with sighs of relief that we survived winter, and we can once again venture outside and enjoy the weather. Here in Chicago, Lake Michigan lures us with its wide open beaches and sparkling blue water reaching to the horizon. Flowers bloom, skies clear, the sun makes an appearance on more days than not, we go outside without jackets or socks, and we celebrate. We acknowledged my birthday on May 16 (I'm not sure I 'celebrate' birthdays anymore), and in our family, we're celebrating graduations, engagements and new chapters.

My niece, LiJen graduated from Anderson University a few weeks ago. She also got engaged to a really nice boy named Josh who she met in China last summer. We love Josh. He fits right into our family.

Next week I'm flying to Ohio to attend my niece, Claire's high school graduation. She'll be coming to Chicago in the fall to attend Wheaton (yipee!). Her big brother Drew is graduating from Princeton in a few weeks, and then he's on his way to teach in China.

Then, David graduates from Northwestern June 20. (double yipee!). He already has some counseling work lined up, so his new career is off and running. And I just finished my first book the day before my birthday.....

With birthdays, graduations, flowers, blue skies, warm weather, new books and chapters, Spring is most of all about hope. That there is beauty and celebration after the long hard winter. That there is work after layoffs. That one starts down an exciting new career path after the hard work of school. That a beautiful little girl who started her life in an orphanage turns into a gorgeous young woman with a college degree and a terrific fiance.

Like I said: I love Spring.

Process and Procedures!!

2009-03-31T10:47:00.000-07:00

So, I had to visit to the Unemployment Office today. It's a wonderful chance to see the wheels of bureaucracy at work. Inefficiency, incompetence, and waiting. Lots and lots of waiting.

The first time I visited the unemployment office, a few weeks after I was laid off, a short, pock-marked man ordered me to take a number at the door. It was late in the afternoon (rookie mistake), and my number was 264. I sat down in a cold plastic chair. In front of me was a whole row of cubicles designed for unemployment officials to meet with unemployed people like me. Unfortunately, out of 8 available cubicles, only two were occupied with helpful unemployment officials. "They should hire me to help out," i thought. "Heck, I need a job and they need someone to sit in one of those cubicles...."

Soon they called out the next number: "170!" the official yelled. I looked again at my number -- 264 -- and realized it was going to be a long afternoon. I had to wait for 96 people in front of me in line to meet with one of the two officials, one of whom kept taking breaks to go outside and smoke a cigarette. Unfortunately, I hadn't brought anything to read (another rookie mistake), and sat there, for 2 1/2 hours, while I watched the unemployed around me becoming more and more aggravated and desperate. It was actually bizarrely suspenseful -- would they get through all of the numbers before the 5:00 deadline? Would the crowd of frustrated unemployed people stage a revolt if the unemployment official took yet another break to smoke his Camels? Would the woman talking too loudly on her cell phone win her argument with her boyfriend? The drama, the drama....

Finally, at 4:45 a woman emerged from a back office and spoke with one of the unemployment officials. Apparently, she was in charge because suddenly, after a slow-moving afternoon, 15 minutes before closing time, things started to happen. Numbers were called. Extra workers came of of their offices to help out (what were they doing all afternoon?) And Before I knew it, I was being summoned over to talk to someone in one of the back offices. I was out of the unemployment office by 5:00. It was a bureaucratic miracle.

Well, today I had to make another visit because a few days ago I received an ominous letter in the mail saying I might be accused of fraud because I hadn't reported some freelance income a few weeks before. Yikes. I didn't know I was supposed to. My freelancing income was under the amount that would affect my weekly unemployment benefit (you can make up to half of your weekly benefit amount before they start decreasing your unemployment payment -- which means I can make up to $192.50 a week before they start decreasing my payment).

The problem is -- even if I make more freelance income, do I report it the week I actually work, or the week I get a check in the mail? Sometimes, it takes clients a month or more to send me a check.

So this time I went to the unemployment office in the morning (having learned my lesson). My number was 69. When I sat down in the plastic chair, I heard them call out "Number 50!" I was thrilled. I only had to wait for 16 people ahead of me to meet with someone.

Plus, this time, I brought two books, a soy latte, and some notes for a freelance project I'm working on. I was prepared!

Turns out this time I didn't need it, though. Within 15 minutes, I was approached by an official who asked me what I needed. I showed her the ominous letter.

Oh, yes, we've been getting lots of those lately. Here, I'll find someone to help you.

I was seated across the desk from a young lad about 27. He was fresh-faced and eager. But he was still learning the ropes. I told him my dilemma: I didn't know I was supposed to record my income because it was below my alloted amount. He understood. He said it was no problem. I wasn't going to be accused of fraud. Yay!

But then I explained my other dilemma: Often, even though I work during a certain week, I don't get paid until a month later. So I'd prefer to report my earnings the week I actually get my check, so I'm not left without unemployment or a paycheck. He thought that would be fine, he said, but he had to double-check with his boss. He was new, after all.....

So, he went off to talk to his boss. Soon, he returned with his boss, a short woman with permed hair. She was shaking her head. "No, you have to report your income the week you WORK, not the week you get PAID," she said. I started to protest, "But that will leave me weeks where I have no income at all -- no unemployment, no freelance income...."

"Doesn't matter," she said. "Process and procedures. Process and procedures! We have to stick to the process and procedures!"

"But it's not like I'm cheating the government. I'll still report the income -- just a few weeks later than when I actually did the work."

"Nope, then you're running the risk of committing fraud!" she said, "You have to stick to the process and procedures!"

So....David and I may be penniless in coming weeks. All due to PROCESS AND PROCEDURES.

Our wonderful, brilliant government at work....

A little break from job-hunting

2009-03-17T06:33:00.000-07:00

I love Arizona. I've only been there during the winter, though, and my love affair might come to an abrupt end if I vacationed in Phoenix in August when it's two million degrees in the shade. But after an unbearably arctic winter in Chicago, I couldn't
resist a cheap flight to the Valley of the Sun. Mind you, this was a week before I got
laid off. I saw bargain basement prices for flights from Chicago to Phoenix, and I went for it. Since I could crash at my friend Sheri's house, I figured I couldn't beat a short long-weekend vacation with one of my best friends, and also see another good friend, Heather, while I was there.

Then I got laid off. "I can't go." I told David. "We can't afford it!" But I had already paid for the ticket and it was non-refundable. So I could either go for the weekend, or waste a ticket which we had already paid for. Plus, David practically forced me to go. I think he was tired of being around a wife suffering from season affective disorder.

So I went....

A trip to Arizona is more than just a warm-weather vacation for me. It's a chance to see a friend I've known since I was 12. And a chance to reconnect with my good friend, Heather, who was someone I hung out with a lot before she moved South and before I was married.

I hadn't seen her since my wedding, and I missed her.

The first thing I noticed when I landed in Arizona was the sun, of course, and the light. The light is so different there. It's more "yellow" than in Chicago. In Chicago, the sun casts a cool light. In Arizona, it's a warmer color. Why is that? And the smells! I would take a walk and smell the orange trees, and something that smelled like sage. In Chicago, I just smell smog.

Anyway, the weekend was wonderful. Heather and I spent time climbing Camelback Mountain (not all the way!), and hanging out at a cool cafe down the street from her condo. We hung out by the pool.

Then I spent a few days with Sheri, visiting the Phoenix Art Museum, and the Chihuly installation at the Desert Botanic Gardens. It was a perfect break from job hunting (although I did a small freelance project while I was there!). And seeing so much beauty was food for the soul....

Facebook, we have a problem....

2009-03-09T17:54:00.000-07:00

Dear Facebook,

I don’t exactly know how to tell you this – so I’ll just say it.

I’m breaking up with you.

I know I owe you an explanation. It’s me. Really. It’s not you.

You see, at first I was enamored with you. You were my ticket to an exciting social life. Being an introvert, you gave me over 100 friends. Think of that. Me, a bookish middle-aged homebody collecting over 100 friends in just a few weeks! I finally felt popular, cool and hip.

I loved you for that.

Of course, most of the friends I collected were nieces, nephews, sisters, brother, my husband and old college friends I haven’t talked to in 20 years. But hey, it made me feel good that so many people “friended” me.

I loved spending hours with you. In our honeymoon phase, I couldn’t get enough of you. I wanted to know what my friends were doing every minute. I would read the latest update from that guy I barely knew in college, and see photos documenting my friends’ seemingly perfect lives. I stalked my friends’ walls to find out what was going on in their worlds. I no longer had to pick up the phone to find out. I just had to click on their wall, and I’d know how they were feeling, what they were doing, and what time they were going to bed.

In the first months of our love, I wrote and rewrote my status, trying to come up with something witty and smart. I carefully edited and cropped the photos I posted. I didn’t want anyone to see me at a bad angle. Maybe if I cropped the photos just right, I might bear a slight resemblance to Tea Leoni and acquaintances I hadn’t seen in years would think, “Hey, she’s really aged well! She looks happy and successful!’

I craved comments. They reminded me that people were noticing me. Little ol’ me! They were interested that I just had oatmeal for breakfast. And they cared that I had survived a hellish commute on the train. Never before had anyone been so interested in the mundane details of my life. It made me feel loved.

I thought about you constantly. Even at work. I logged on in-between projects, hoping none of my colleagues would notice I was updating my status instead of working. I couldn’t get you off of my mind.

But then everything changed.

I started feeling empty and bad whenever we were together. I realized that my friends seemed interested in my photos and status updates. But often, that was the extent of our friendship. It was my fault just as much as theirs. I was just as guilty of merely trading status updates instead of picking up the phone and asking someone to meet me for coffee. But still, I felt vaguely bad that our friendship didn’t go beyond our virtual walls.

And I realized I felt jealous. I started comparing the carefully selected photos of my friends with my own carefully cropped photos. And guess what – I didn’t measure up. I started feeling like I needed to be something more – more successful to impress that old college friend. More beautiful, so that I would get more comments (and the right kind of comments) on my photos. More witty in order to prompt people to react to my status updates. And more financially stable so I could post pictures of a wonderful beach vacation.

I just can’t do it anymore, Facebook. You’re slowing stealing my soul and making me dissatisfied with the life God has given me. Spending too much time with you caused me to want to be someone different than who God has created me to be.

I think I deserve to spend time with someone who likes me for who I am, and knows the real me. The me who is more complex that what could ever be expressed in a 10 word status update.

All of those hours I’ve spend browsing the photos of my 100+ friends, and reading their wall postings? Those are hours I could have been writing a novel, or spending time with my husband, or knitting or painting or having coffee with a friend getting to know them and all of their joys and struggles and disappointments – not their Facebook persona.

I’ve decided I’d rather have real, deep, meaningful friends than the kind you offer. I want real community. Not brief, status updates. I want real, live flesh and blood hugs, not a little icon placed on my virtual wall.

Don’t get me wrong. You’ve given me a lot. A chance to connect with old friends. A way to see photos of my nieces and nephews. A way to keep up to date on the latest news.

But I don’t think that’s enough to keep us in a long-term relationship. I will miss you, and remember the wonderful times we had together.

I need to find myself again. And find my community.

And you know, God doesn’t even have a profile on Facebook, so I have to log out in order to be friends with him. I think I owe him some status updates.

So, goodbye for now, Facebook.

Don’t try to contact me or send me status updates. I will be busy living my life.

Unemployment: Day 9

2009-02-11T10:57:00.000-08:00

I suppose I'm typical of most people who get laid off. There's a whole bunch of emotions -- anger, fear, shame, sadness, panic, loss of control, self-doubt. At first, after a day and a half of crying and panic, I felt a surge of hopefulness and calm. I started enjoying sleeping in, got a few leads on freelance projects, was distracted from my panic by furiously updating my resume and web site. Decided to trust God.

But that only lasted a few days. Then I started once again thinking about our situation. David's in school fulltime, has an internship, and a fellowship. He doesn't have enough time in his days to work more than 15 - 20 hours a week. So it's up to me to fill in the rest of the income gap. With the economy the way it is, I'm imagining thousands of resumes, like an email tsunami, crashing simultaniously into the inboxes of the HR departments of the various companies I'm applying to. I email resumes, or follow up on a freelance lead, and then stare at my computer, waiting for a response. It's really enough to make one as CRAZY as a cat chased by a vacuum cleaner.

I try to create order in my day. Get up, take shower, check email, look for jobs, send out resumes, revise resume to make it sound more "creative and hip", wait. And wait some more. Try to think of people I can contact. Rinse, repeat.

At some point, I pry myself away from my computer and go to the gym. I'm doing everything I can to remain sane. Working out helps. I might be unemployed, but damn, I'm going to be the best-looking, svelt unemployed person to walk the streets of Chicago. It's sort of like seeing an old boyfriend and wanting to look hot so he'll regret ever dumping you. I'm imagining myself bumping into one of my old co-workers 20 pounds lighter, with a glowing tan, and casually saying "Oh, getting laid off was the BEST THING that's ever happened to me!" As they trudge back to their dark, dank cubicle.

I've noticed something good in all of this. It seems like people are becoming more compassionate. Many have lost jobs, or lost money in the stock market, or know of a friend or relative who lost a job. In our mutual economic panic, we're becoming more human, I think. Our downstairs neighbors, who we rarely see, invited us out for breakfast last Saturday. An incredibly shy classmate of David's stopped him in the hallway at school and hugged him. A freelance contact of mine, whom I've worked with but don't know well, sent me a compassionate email, vowing to help me find work. We've taken our eyes off of our money, work, achievements, things, and started looking at one another. Instead of buying that HDTV, we're helping each other through this difficult situation.

It's a good thing.

Now excuse me while I go check my email again.

I didn't get the rose!

2009-02-08T10:38:00.000-08:00

I'm not embarrassed to admit that I watch The Bachelor. It's a guilty pleasure. I love the drama, the desperate girls, the cheesy dates, the suspense at the end where The Bachelor gives out roses to those he wants to keep around. And the poor girls who he "doesn't see a future with" are left standing in the bachelorette line without a rose, keeping back tears, looking dejected and sad.

The host, Chris Harrison, then tells the rose-less ones "Girls, say your goodbyes. Then get your things. You're going home tonight."

There are tears, and hugs, and the rejected girls walk up to the Bachelor and either give him a perfuntory hug, wish him the best, or just give him a dirty look and walk out. The girls are then interviewed in the limosine as they are driven to the airport. "I really thought he was 'the one'" some of them say, with tears. "If he had only kept me on longer, he would see how much we have in common." "If only I had been more open and told him how I really feel!" Oh, the torture and self-loathing. "When am I going to be the one picked?" "Well, I guess it just wasn't meant to be."

On Monday, when I was laid off, I now understand how those poor bachelorettes feel. "Get your things, say your goodbyes, leave your keys on your desk." If you had interviewed me on the EL on my way home that night -- carrying all of my belongings in a paper bag my sweet co-worker gave me to put my things in because I couldn't fit it all into my back-pack -- I would have said things like "Why didn't they want to keep me?" "When am I ever going to find the right one?" "If they had only kept me a little longer, they would have realized what a great match it was!"

I know I shouldn't take their decision personally. It was based on the fact that their biggest client told them they were severely cutting back business in 2009. And I worked exclusively on that account. And, my salary was higher than the other copywriters. It made sense that I was the one to go...

Still, even when it's solely a business decision, there's a sense of rejection and failure.

So I'm standing here rose-less. But like many of the rejected bachelorettes who end up finding the love of their life after being on the show, I'm hoping that a job that's a better fit will come along and sweep my off my feet. Or at least pay the bills....

And, like any experience, I feel like I know myself a little bit better. I know what I want a little bit more. Every difficult thing I go through helps to grow my character, if I let it, and helps me to realize what's really important in life. I know things will turn out alright.

But damn, I really wanted that rose.

Top 10 things about getting laid off

2009-02-04T03:07:00.000-08:00

1. You get to sleep past 6:30 a.m.
2. No more commute on the smelly EL
3. You can start dreaming of a whole new career
4. Two-hour lunches with friends
5. You can watch Oprah
6. You realize that things are so bad and out of your control that that only thing you can do is surrender
7. Forces you to trust God (see above)
8. Makes you realize what's really important in life
9. You lose weight from the anxiety
10. Can wear the same outfit every day and no one will notice

I'm finding ways to laugh at our situation. The comments in response to this NY Times article, "You're Fired! But your outfit's great," had me rolling on the floor. Especially comment #4 re: pleated pants. Maybe it's because I was reading it at 4:00 a.m.

What I wore when I was canned: Jeans that were tattered at the hems, a cool sweater and kickin' red cowboy boots. Glad I wore the red boots. But really wish I had washed my hair that morning. Dang.

Tuesday I woke up and washed my hair. Fresh start....

Sunday morning worship

2009-01-18T14:46:00.000-08:00

Today we didn't go to church. Instead, David studied and I took a walk by the Lake. It's 17 degrees. But the sun is out. This time of year, that's a big deal.

It's been a hard winter, and it's only January. I won't lie to you. I've been fantasizing about moving south. I hate to admit that, since I've always taken pride in being a "hearty Midwesterner" who can take these grueling arctic blasts for four months. But the past two winters have been humbling. I'm getting too old for this. Too weary to dig the car out of a snow drift one more time. Too tired to trudge to work from the train in 2 feet of snow. To disgusted with one more pair of boots ruined by the combination of snow, salt, and melted "sludge" that collects in the street gutters.

No one cares how they look when go they to work in the morning. Typically stylish and sophisticated Chicagoans who work in the Loop now waddle down the streets in full-length black down coats, snow boots that are more practical than fashionable, and layers and layers of scarves, hats, mittens, ear muffs, and ski masks. I even saw one guy wearing ski goggles. He's smart. That wind that whips off the river as I walk to work feels like straight pins stabbing my face and makes my eyes water and nose run.

We are hearty, but human. And we're already tired of winter.

But today we got a reprieve. The sun was shining brightly. It felt warm -- even though it was only 17 degrees. I drove to my favorite coffee shop, which is two blocks from the lake, and on a whim walked to the beach. I had my camera and took these shots. Then I just sat on the pier and felt the sun on my face.

It felt like God's grace warming me in the midst of this brutal season. And I gave thanks, and prayed that Spring, and along with it, Easter, would come quickly.

From Wendell Berry

2008-12-16T07:11:00.000-08:00

I know that I have life
only insofar as I have love.

I have no love
except it come from Thee.

Help me, please, to carry
this candle against the wind.

-- Wendell Berry

Glimpses of the Kingdom

2008-12-13T05:37:00.000-08:00

I remember several years ago, in the early 90s, when I was hanging out with a bunch of people from my former church, a few who were theologians. Up until this point, I was going along in my faith, stuck in a theology that wasn't really working for me anymore. I'd been questioning for a long time....I think I emerged from the womb questioning. I remember when I was about 6 or 7, asking my mother: "How do we know the Bible is true?" My poor mom. She never really knew how to deal with me, and the question probably shocked her a little. She answered: "Well, we just KNOW...!" I remember her hard emphasis on the word "Know" -- I can still hear it 35 years later. Maybe for my mother she did "know" in her own way. She had been through enough in life at that point that maybe her experience of God brought her a confidence that yes, it's real. We can trust it.

But to my 7 year old soul, that response probably appeased me for about 5 seconds. It also taught me that there was something wrong with me. That maybe I shouldn't question. That I should just go along and BELIEVE.

Well, obviously that didn't work. I had questions. I had doubts. And for most of my childhood I stuffed them down into my tender, young soul. There was nowhere else to put them. And then when I turned 30 I started spending $100 a session spilling them to my therapist.

But there have been a few people along the way who have created a safe space for my doubts. And a new way of looking at faith. And let me know that my questioning was okay. And that not having hard, simple, answers is actually a good thing. An "aha" moment for me was when I realized that faith isn't about answers -- it's about mystery. And when I embraced that mystery is when my faith started to emerge again, like the tiny green crocus plants in front of our condo that poke up through the snow in March.

Another "aha" moment was in the early 90s when my theologian friends started saying that the Kingdom of God is here. Now. Right now. Here. Really? NOOO! It's in the future, I tried to tell them. You know -- when were all raptured. Right now we're just biding our time. Waiting. Until the future, you know.

But slowing I started getting that yes, the Kingdom is here. Maybe not in all of its fullness, when everything will be made right. But God is doing something here, now, to heal our souls and to give us glimpses of how things can be made right. It's Now, Not Yet (thus the title of this blog).

Richard Rohr writes:

"Jesus clearly says the kingdom of heaven is among us (Luke 17:21) or 'at hand' (Matthew 3:2, 4:17). One wonders why we made it into a reward system for later, or as someone called it, 'a divine evacuation plan' from this world. Maybe it was easier to obey laws and practice rituals for later reward than to actually be transformed now."

I've been humbled recently at the privilege of getting to participate in seeing other people start understanding this message that the Kingdom is here -- now, and you can be transformed. There is hope!

Last fall David and I attended The Beloved Retreat. This year, I was asked to help be a part of the team that leads it. And I saw glimpses of the Kingdom. The NOW part of the "Now, not yet."

So we met at the Seminary at St. Mary's by the Lake in Mundelein, Illinois. I saw lives transformed. I saw people finally understanding that Christ came so that we might have life, and have it more abundantly. I was reminded once again that in order to have that life, we need to let go of some things that aren't working anymore. I saw salvation happening. Oh my gosh -- what an exciting thing.

On Sunday morning that weekend, I got up early and walked to the lake. It was so quiet. The sun was coming up. I was freezing. The lake was frozen and Canadian geese were honking quietly, or roosting on the ice with their beaks tucked into their wings to keep warm. I saw a 6-point buck lazily wandering off into the trees. I waited for the sun. And waited. And waited. It felt like it was taking forever and I almost gave up and walked back to my dorm room to get warm. But the colors in the sky kept changing, and I was mesmerized. Often, I've discovered, the colors of the sky just before sunrise or sunset are more beautiful than the colors of the actual event. Maybe the same is true when we're waiting for Christ to come. In the "now" we can be mesmerized at the beauty of the transforming sky, and our transforming lives.

Whew!

2008-11-21T04:08:00.000-08:00

Anyone out there still reading this? Sorry for the absence. Life has been a little crazy here, and won't be letting up any time soon.

We knew going into this month that it would be a little mind-numbing. We've had lots of visitors -- LiJen (niece) and Josh (her new boyfriend) for a day (the little love-birds), and then my good friend Sheri was in town the evening of the election (GOBAMA!) We drank wine while sitting on the couch watching the happenings in Grant Park. I guess we could have been down in the park, but we didn't have tickets and wondered if we would even hear the speech if we were too far away. So we didn't want to take a chance. Plus, I hate crowds.

Then, we had our wonderful fundraising concert on November 9. It was amazing how well everything came together. We raised about $4,500 -- more than enough to get our homestudy done! That was our goal, because once we finish the homestudy, we can apply for adoption grants. You can read more about it here.

Then last weekend we took a whirl-wind trip down to Atlanta for the wedding of David's long-time friend, Stephen. It was great to get away for a little while and spend time with friends.

This weekend I'm staffing the Beloved Retreat. For the past 6 weeks our team has been meeting to plan for the weekend, and write our "narratives." The whole weekend is about stories -- the stories we tell each other about God working in our lives. And the more I'm around these Old St. Pats friends I'm more and more convinced that they're "my tribe." I don't feel like an outsider anymore (since I'm not catholic). The way they are living out their faith is very familiar to me. I'm grateful to have this opportunity to help others experience the retreat like I experienced it last year.

I will post photos of all of these events soon, and will try to update more frequently...!

From Dante

2008-10-20T15:34:00.000-07:00

"But whatsoever of the holy kingdom
Was in the power of memory to treasure
Will be my theme until the song is ended."

--Dante, Divine Comedy

New adoption blog here. Website coming soon...

2008-10-14T11:06:00.000-07:00

So I haven't posted for a month and I look on my "stat counter" today and see that you're still checking in. Sorry to have disappointed you every time you've click onto my blog for the past month only to see the same, old post staring you in the face.

I can make excuses and tell you that I've been busy (I have).

Or I can tell you the truth and say that I haven't been in the mood to blog. Blogging takes energy. And a certain amount of inspiration. And when you know there are a handful of people who are loyal followers, you sometimes feel obligated to post regularly. It's a big responsibility. Okay, it's not that big of a deal, but some times I don't want the pressure of having to come up with something half-way intelligent to say. That's what I do at work all day -- try to come up with witty, smart things to say about financial products. Ugh.

But here's some news: I've started a new blog that will be dedicated to our adoption. You can find it here.

We're also putting up a Website that will give you even more info about the adoption with a link for donations. I may try to link the blog and the website, if I can figure out how to do that!

I'm finding out how technologically challenged I am.

Oh well.
Enjoy the new blog. I'll try to start posting more often. Stay tuned for the new website...

On being Pro-life and Pro-Obama

2008-09-16T07:28:00.000-07:00

Okay, I promised I wouldn't talk about politics. But I just can't help myself. I found this fascinating article on the Huffington Post written by Frank Schaeffer (son of Francis Schaeffer).

Frank and his father were leaders in the original pro-life movement. Now Frank is a supporter of Obama and in this article answers the question "How can you be pro-life and pro-Obama?

He writes:

"The Republican leadership is not pro-life. They are simply against abortion for reasons of political expediency. They are also for torture and military aggression. And they chose a literal executioner for president; a former governor who has more blood on his hands than any other modern American governor; Mr. Texas-sized, Capital Punishment-with-no-mercy-no-pardons hang em' high himself.

The Republicans have contributed to climate change by coddling oil companies and car companies and ducking the hard environmental and energy policy questions for thirty years. They have literally sold our country to the highest polluting bidders from the Saudis to the Chinese. Therefore the Republicans have literally risked the ability of our planet to sustain all human life born and unborn. So much for human life values.

Who will help us to become a nation that values life -- abortion rhetoric aside? Obama."

On politics

2008-09-08T07:28:00.000-07:00

I haven't written too much about politics lately. Most of you know I support Obama and will vote for him in November. But I don't want to talk to you about it, because some of you may be voting differently and we could go round and round about our different views and that will make me grumpy.

The introduction of Sarah Palin into the race has stirred up strong feelings in me along with everyone else, it seems. Sure, she's well spoken and I like the fact that she decided to keep her downs syndrome baby. But I also despise her views on the environment and animal rights. Some Evangelical Christians seem to think she's the best thing since sliced bread. I don't. (And while I'm a Christian I don't really consider myself "evangelical". But that's a whole other discussion).

But what bothers me more than Sarah Palin and her oil-drilling, moose-hunting, wolf-killing ways is that every election year I feel that politics separates me from friends and family.

I don't like it. It makes me uncomfortable. So I tend to keep quiet about my feelings and beliefs and when one of my friends says something like "So, what do ya think about that Sarah Palin?" I make a generic comment like, "well, she seems spunky!" Then I start talking about the weather. I don't want to talk to you about it. I'm not going to try to convince you that my views are better than your views.

However you vote in November, I will still be your friend. Because what connects us is usually something that transcends politics.

Whenever I get stirred up about this political race and the fact that my candidate may not win in November, I have to remember that if we put our hope in politics, we will always be disappointed.

I read Daily Kos, the progressive, liberal political blog, and then I hop on over to Greg Boyd or Scot McNight's blog (read his post, "Voting for President? 2 -- posted on September 5) to regain my perspective.

Whoever wins in November, life will go on. I will continue to work toward the kingdom of God by loving those around me and trying to heal what's broken in this world in some small way.

What does it mean to be "blessed?"

2008-08-30T07:06:00.001-07:00

My online acquaintance Lori Rooney has a wonderful post that details her experience with infertility and then adoption. While Ted and Lori are much further along in their adoption journey (now parents of the beautiful Abe!), and while no two of our stories are exactly alike, the experience she writes about is very familiar to me.

I did get married at 40, so at some point during my 30s it occured to me that I may never have children. Somewhere along the way I mourned that a little, while still clinging to a tiny hope that I would be one of those women who had no problem getting pregnant over 40. It was not to be....so while I mourned (and mourn), I'm not sure I feel it quite as acutely as women in their early 30s who thought they still had plenty of time, who thought they SHOULD be able to get pregnant with no problem. Who still have tons of friends around them conceiving babies with little effort.

My grief has had a little bit more time to sink in and I've had more time to process it. But it's still there and rears it's ugly head, especially now that I'm 44 and that door will be slammed shut for good in a few short years (if it isn't already).

Lori writes about her experience with comments like "It's too bad you can't have your OWN baby." Hence, the title of her blog "Our own Rooney." Their adopted son is their "own" baby.

But for people who are infertile or have a child through adoption, there's a constant bombardment of comments from people who aren't out to hurt, but do so anyway, mostly out of ignorance.

This is true of so many things. The pain in one's life is unique, and even friends can say something that pushes a button, set something off inside of you. They don't mean to. They just don't know any better. They don't know your experience. They can't understand what a simple statement feels like to the person experiencing a certain kind of pain that is so far from their own experience.

I went through this when my mother died. People say the stupidest things. But I learned to forgive because I realized that they can't really understand unless they've been through it.

Well, there's a phrase that has been pushing my buttons lately. I've heard a handful of people say it, and both times it was from people who have several biological children and it was said in the context of those said children. The phrase is (drum roll....):

"I just feel so blessed!"

Okay, I understand that there's nothing wrong with that phrase in and of itself. I'm glad they feel blessed. They should feel blessed. But when that's said to someone who's struggling with infertility, and struggling to come up with the money for adoption, it feels like a poke in a fresh wound with a parring knife.

What I FEEL when I hear that phrase is: "I'm blessed because I have children. That means that you're not blessed. I have a gift that God hasn't given you. So na-na-na-na-na. I guess you're doing something wrong that God hasn't given you this gift."

Now, I KNOW that isn't the intention of the people making this comment. In fact, I think if I ever told them how I feel when they say that they would be mortified. These aren't the kinds of friends who are out to gloat or hurt me. But through the filter of my pain, that's what I hear: Gloating.

It's also made me really start wondering what it means to be "blessed." I haven't really figured it all out yet. There are times when I feel blessed, and times when I don't. When it comes to the child issue, I don't feel "blessed." But I think there's something wrong with a theology that defines "being blessed" as having lots of children. Or a big house and lots of money, for that matter.

What does it mean to you to be "blessed?" I'm curious. I feel like I need help figuring this out.

It seems to me, too that it's all very relative. You can feel blessed compared to one person (I feel blessed that I have good health, when I think about my two friends who have died of breast cancer), but I don't feel blessed when I think of my friends who got pregnant easily after age 40.

So I know I"m thinking about this all wrong -- my obsession with "comparing" myself is all out of whack.

Is God "blessing" me? What does that mean? Could I be "blessed" with an internal transformation and humility because of what I'm going through? If so, that's not something other people automatically see, so maybe to them I don't seem as "blessed" as I would if I had a couple of kids running around.

I just think we need to be more careful when we throw around that term, because some blessings are obvious. Others are hidden in the midst of what seems like a huge struggle or in the midst of pain.

God's blessings are complicated, mysterious, seemingly random but they're probably not, and unexpected.

So when someone says "I feel so blessed," I will be happy for them, and then realize that blessings come in all shapes and sizes and the blessings I have may not be so obvious.....

Old Friends

2008-08-24T18:03:00.000-07:00

My college roommate Nancy came to visit this weekend. I hadn't seen her in 17 years. She was driving through Chicago on her way to take her oldest son to college in Michigan. They crashed at our place Saturday night and we took them on a quick tour of our lovely city. First we drove down to Millennium Park, then to Intelligentsia Coffee, and then we picked up a Giordono's pizza.

Nancy and I were roommates my Junior year when she was a Sophomore. I didn't know her before we were roommates. I was a Residence Assistant in my dorm that year (a really bad one, because I let the girls in my unit listen to ROCK MUSIC, which wasn't allowed in our small Christian college), and she was a transfer student. We hit it off and I remember that year filled with lots of laughter, listening to Keith Green on my 8-track tape player, talking about boys, and eating lots of pizza and ice cream from Mom and Pops restaurant across the street from our dorm. She's one of these very self-possessed, confident people who I admire. I remember her telling me that I should grow my hair longer (I had a hideous short and permed hairdo), and so I did, because she seemed really more with it than I was and I trusted her opinion. I also remember her wearing flowered jeans..which I thought were so cool. She talked a lot about this guy named Kent who she met at the college she had transfered from. It's the guy she eventually married, leaving school early the next year to tie the knot. I was a little nervous for her because she left school before she graduated just to marry a guy who, in my opinion, she barely knew. But I also admired her moxie for taking the risk. I guess it paid off -- they've been married for 20 years.

We kept in touch the first few years after college. I visited her in St. Paul Minnesota, and then in California. She and Kent eventually moved to a small town in Minnesota and had 6 children. I moved to Chicago and we lost touch for a long time. Then, a few years ago, I got a call early one morning. It was Nancy.

"God just told me to call you," she said.

I was glad he did.

So we've been emailing for a while and then got to see each other this weekend. One of the good things about getting older is that you get to have friends who have known you for years and years. Friends you have a history with. Who knew you way back when.

Nancy is still the Nancy I remember. Beautiful, confident, funny and smart. Plus, she now has six wonderful kids -- all of whom she home schools! We're kindred spirits when it comes to books. We've read many of the same books and share favorite authors like Kathleen Norris, Marilynn Robinson, and Anne Lammot.

It's interesting where our lives have taken us. I doubt either of us could have imagined in 1985 where we would be today. She didn't want children -- now she has six. I never could have imagined I'd be a writer living in a big city -- and I've lived here for almost 20 years. We both have much better haircuts now and have our pizza and ice cream binges under control (well, except for this weekend with the Giordonos!). We're a little weathered by the struggles of life, but better for it, I think. We live very different lives, but we're still connected by the bonds that were forged 23 years ago in a dingy cinder-block dorm room eating pizza and laughing together and dreaming about the future.

Nancy and me in California, 1991. The tot in the stroller is now going to college.

Nancy and me, Chicago 2008.

Nancy and her two oldest boys.

A Sunday walk by the lake

2008-08-10T15:39:00.000-07:00

If you haven't figured it out by now, I love taking walks. It gives me time and space to think, and it's a nice workout. David would prefer that I run with him. I think that's his biggest disappointment in our marriage -- that I turned out not to be a running buddy. Oh well.

Here are photos from today's walk by the Lake on a perfect Chicago day.

What to watch when your husband is away

2008-08-04T08:37:00.000-07:00

David was in Dallas visiting his parents last weekend. So I took the opportunity to watch whatever I wanted. (WhooHooo -- I had the whole weekend without him mocking myTV viewing choices!) So I rented the 1985 Canadian Broadcasting version of Anne of Green Gables. Now, if David had been home, he would have rolled his eyes and left the room. But it was just me and Lucy, and we wanted to be transported back to the turn of the century. It was just what we girls need to help us to escape from our troubles (well, Lucy's only trouble is that she doesn't like the dinner menu most nights).
So we curled up on the couch together and were transported to Prince Edward Island, Green Gables, and the mis-adventures of the orphan Anne Shirley.

This version has the wonderful Colleen Dewhurst as Marilla Cuthbert (who reluctantly agrees to keep the orphan after the orphanage accidentally sent them a girl instead of a boy orphan who could help with the farm). Richard Farnsworth is cast at the wonderfully and loving Matthew Cuthbert (Marilla's brother), who falls in love with Anne from the beginning, despite her rough edges.

I have to admit the story paints a fairly rosy picture of Anne's life after she's adopted by Marilla and Matthew. Sure, she has her social mis-haps and kids at school tease her about her red hair, but she adjusts to school beautifully, the whole community embraces her. A few neighbors must get over the fact that she's an ORPHAN, but they always end up being charmed and won over by Anne (played by Megan Follows).

Then there's the DREAMY Gilbert Blythe, played by Jonathan Crombie. He's the original McDreamy, I think. But Anne will have nothing to do with him because he teased her once about her red hair. The whole movie you just want to shake that girl and tell her to GET OVER IT ALREADY! CAN YOU SEE HE'S IN LOVE WITH YOU? AND HE'S SO MCDREAMY!

But Anne is stubborn and leaves the audience in suspense about her romantic life until the very end where we're left with a little tiny light of hope about Anne and Gil.

David got home Sunday afternoon and I watched the last 2 hours of the movie Sunday night. During his breaks from his editing work, he caught a few scenes of the film and believe it or not, he was laughing at Anne's antics and wowed by the wonderful acting of Colleen Dewhurst. I guess he's been charmed by Anne of Green Gables as well....

Amazing

2008-08-01T13:17:00.001-07:00

Let me introduce you to my new favorite CD. David got me a "surprise" gift the other day. I love his surprise gifts. They're usually something he's run across that he knows I'll like. And he's usually right, as is the case with his latest gift of this CD by Rickie Lee Jones. And that makes me feel like he gets me, which is the best feeling in the world, because I go through most of my life feeling like very very few people get me.

Anyway, when I read the website explaining how this CD came about, I fell even more in love with it. You can read the story here.

Basically, the songs are based on the words of Christ, but improvised by Rickie Lee Jones in what sounds to me was a recording session that was mystical, mysterious, and spirit-filled. Not sure how else I can describe it. When she was finished recording the first song, the rest of the people in the room were speechless. The result is raw, honest, authentic and edgy songs that reflect our often doubt-filled relationship with God.

Additional comment: If you decide to purchase this CD, you may want to listen to it in the store first. It's a little on the "edgy" side and her lyrics aren't for those who love straight-forward, easy-to-understand sing-along Christian tunes. So it's not for everyone. Jones doesn't even consider herself a Christian -- but her songs are a response to reading a book called The Word by her friend Robert Lee Cantelon, who is a Christian. You can read more about it in this NY Times article.

A walk in the city: Summer

2008-07-24T18:43:00.000-07:00

Photos taken during a lunchtime walk. Chicago in the summer....almost makes up for the hellish winters.

Living small

2008-07-22T08:51:00.000-07:00

I often wake up in the middle of the night and worry. I worry about a lot of things. Like my various illnesses (see post below), or I worry about the adoption, or paying bills. As David could tell you, I'm never at a loss for things to worry about. His nickname for me is "Ms. Worst-case-scenario." Nice.

Sometimes, I worry that we're so far behind "where we're supposed to be" at this point in our lives. You know, big house in the burbs, 2.5 kids, minivan, large retirement funds. Then I realize how silly I am. I mean, why try to keep up with the Jones's when the Jones's have already lapped us about 6 times? And is that what I really want, anyway? Or do I just think I want it because that's what I'm supposed to want?

It's all very confusing, and you'd think at this point in my life I'd have a better idea of who I am and what I want. But it's all muddled and mixed up with society's expectations, what my family and friends want for me, and my obsession with competition. I have a drive to compete with everyone around me, and at the same time, I hate competition. More often than not, I'll just let the other person "win" because I don't think I can win anyway. I'd rather just step off the track and drink a Gatorade. It's my way of short-circuiting the whole thing.

So as I see people around me buying bigger houses, popping out more kids, buying more expensive cars, I have this urge to chuck it all and run in the other direction. As David and I cleaned out our rented storage unit last weekend so that we could save $66 a month on the rental fees, I kept wondering why we have so much stuff. We almost came to blows as we were trying to squeeze my cool antique church pew in our little basement storage room. We rearranged boxes of junk that we haven't cracked open for 3 years. Old books, knick-knacks, grade-school papers. When we got married we got rid of tons of stuff, but we still have so much. And it's weighing us down.

So lately I've been thinking maybe we should be really counter-cultural and get rid of everything and be total odd-balls. I want to sell our place and buy a really tiny house, like this. It's one of the tiny homes made by the Tumbleweed House Company.

Then I want to sell our car and buy a minuscule car like this Smart Car.

I want to live small and light. It sort of like traveling to Europe with a backpack instead of a trunk. It will make the journey so much more pleasant and allow us to focus on the scenery.