A post about dreams

I had dreams, when I was younger. Ideas about how life would be. There was a husband, children, nieces and nephews. I would enjoy my parents as they grew old together. In my mind, I was always a teacher - a kindergarten teacher. In my dreams for the future there was hope, happiness, contentment and purpose.

The reality of life is so much different. The husband and children have yet to manifest themselves, and with all that is changing within my body, some dreams of children grow slimmer each day. My Dad's life ended much sooner than any of us imagined. My teaching days weren't in a classroom but in a church "basement", with middle school and high school youth and involved so much more than teaching. Those days are years behind now.  It was my choice to move on, well, there was a "voice" that I heard pretty clear telling me it was time for change and I listened to that voice. I don't regret that decision...but I do miss those days.

I do have a biological niece and lots of nephews-of-the-heart. I was content with life...once upon a time. Content didn't always mean happy, I have learned. Content simply means content. Content is a distant memory, right now.

The Disney movie Inside Out came out the summer my Dad died. The movie centered around  a young girl as she deals with her new reality of life. The majority of the movie is told from the perspective of her emotions - Joy, Anger, Sadness, Fear, and Disgust. There is one point where her state of discontent, disillusionment, deaden her emotions and her emotional headquarters goes gray. Everything is viewed through a cloud of gray. I remember sitting in the movie theater, watching that scene, trying really, really hard to keep myself together and not just sob loudly and hysterically. Everything about that scene resonated with my soul. Reflected on the screen was my own inner state of being.

I moved out of that state for awhile, but lately the gray has started to creep back in. Contentment is nowhere to be found. Passion, happiness, hope...those feelings are hiding. I'm going through the motions of life. Right now, everything looks and feels gray.

Everyone once in a while I look around and wonder, what happened to all the dreams I had?  Did I somehow miss the boat, or train or helicopter or plane or car or horse or whatever clue I was supposed to catch to make my dreams come true? I wonder what I've done wrong. Maybe I didn't listen close enough to the instructor and wandered down a path I wasn't supposed to take. What happened to my dreams?

Then I start to wonder, what is my purpose?  I want to be useful, do something that makes a difference in the world. I am grateful to have a job but it's a job. I don't come home at night feeling like the world is a better place because I sold office products. It's a means to an end. Why am I here? I know that I'm not the first person to ask that question nor will I be the last.

My younger self had dreams. They were good dreams. They were the dreams that every younger self needs. Dreams of  happiness, hope, contentment and purpose. Some dreams have yet to be realized. Some dreams have been lost along the way. Some dreams became reality and I am forever grateful for the memories.

Tonight, my soul is longing for new dreams. Dreams that move me out of the state of gray and back into a world of color. I am longing for new dreams to mingle with the old, to stir in my soul and bring me to a place of happiness, contentment, purpose and hope again. 

Searching for my voice

I sometimes have a hard time speaking up, not because I don't have opinions - I have plenty of those - but because I don't want to offend others.  I try to play nicely with others, don't rock the boat, be the peacemaker.  I'm just about done.

Last week, my Mom and I went to hear Jim Wallis of Sojourners speak at a church in the area.  There were so many people we wound up in one of several overflow rooms where they were live streaming his speech.  (I do know that he was, in fact, at the venue. We passed him as we left our building and he was going to the book table to sign books.) At the end, during the question and answer period, Jim made a statement - faith inspires hope which prompts action which brings about change.  I've been pondering that statement all week.

A Bible verse that has become my mantra over the years has been a variation of Micah 6:8 - "Do justice, love mercy, walk humbly with your God."  Justice and mercy, in my view, look very different than the current US Administration views justice and mercy. I am tired of hearing about how we need to "make America great again", which seems to mean to put the interests of rich, white men above the needs of the poor, the needy, immigrants, people of color, working class, middle class, women, children...the list could just keep going on and on and on.  I'm tired of hearing that all the news media is lying.  I'm tired of the threats and patronizing comments from the current administration.  I'm tired of hearing about "alternative facts" and I'm tired of the thin skinned man that sits in the White House.  We are haven't even made it a month and already, I'm tired.

I've been struggling to find hope for the United States since November.  I've been struggling to listen to the opinions of those who don't believe the same way I believe.  I stopped watching the news.  I stopped doing anything more than skimming the headlines. Because since November, I've felt hopeless - wanting to be a peaceful person amidst the anger but just feeling so.darn.angry. I've listened to those who have said we just need to accept things and move on but I don't want to accept things.  I don't want to just move on.  And yet, I don't know what to do...yet.  I simply know I'm tired.

Faith - hope - action - change.  Justice - mercy - humbleness - God.   I'm pondering these things and searching for my voice. 

A post about new beginnings

This morning I went to a new-to-me church.  I've been struggling with church attendance for awhile now.  I really like the pastor at the church I've been attending.  I like the people.  I've had a really hard time with the music.  Music, for me, is an essential piece of church worship.  God speaks to me through music.  While I can hear God through both "traditional" and "contemporary" music, I prefer the latter.  Organ music doesn't do much for me, most of the time, and I really, really have a hard time when the music leader feels the need to explain how to worship or the meaning behind every song before allowing the words and music to speak.  I just want to sing...so when I started being intentionally late to church to avoid the music, I knew there was a problem.  A big problem.

A week ago, I went to church for the first time in a month.  I was either out of town or had something happening on Sunday that kept me home the entire Advent season.  We didn't even make it to the Christmas Eve service...side note/question, what happened to the late night Christmas Eve services?  I may have to create my own next year.  So going back to church last Sunday I was ready and hopeful.  I left church knowing it was time to find someplace where my musical soul could be filled again.

Which brings me to today and the new-to-me church.  A former Youth Minister friend is the Pastor of the church.  It meets in a local restaurant, which on Saturday nights and some Sunday afternoons can be frequented by motorcycle groups.  I went alone (which is a big deal), with two simple hopes, to feel welcomed and to begin to find God again through music.  Check and check.

I'm not sure that I'm completely ready to let go of the church I've been attending but I can safely say, I am definitely going back to the new-to-me church again.  The fact that it starts later and is only 10 minutes away from home is a big bonus.  But so was the welcome, the songs that began to wash over my soul and the words spoken that gave me a moment to examine the wounds that are still gaping open in my heart.  Today felt like a new beginning...and that is good. 

A post from the desert

A wise friend said recently, "Brittany, you've been wandering in the desert for a long time and it seems to me that you keep trying to return to Egypt."

CRAP.

Today the new Pastor spoke about the Israelites traveling through the desert and how God provided manna (bread) for them EVERY DAY while they wandered in the desert.

CRAP.


There is truth to what my wise friend said (don't tell him I called him that, okay?  He'll get a big head)...there is a part of me that longs to return to Egypt.

There is truth to the what the Pastor said...God is providing manna for me EVERY DAY as I wander in the desert.

So, y'all, will you pray for me to:

A.) let go of Egypt
B.) remember that God is providing
C.) be open to whatever is next?

Because my fears are definitely ruling my judgement and my eyes have been blinded but are beginning to clear and the numb lump of something that has been my heart is beginning to feel again.

This growing up stuff is hard.

A post about hiding

Do you ever have moments where you just want to hide?  I was going to write "hide under a rock" but that statement doesn't really make sense.  There is no hiding under a rock for this girl...I would be seen.

I have favorite places to hide.  My room is one.  It does kind of resemble a cave at times, especially at this time of the year when the light is harder to find and the cool air streams through the window.  It's one of my favorite hiding places.

I like to hide in Tahoe.  I've found a couple of places, close to the water where I can hear the waves lapping against the rocks, with some sun and some shade.  They aren't the most comfortable places unless I bring my own chair but they are calming, quieting, places where I can find God.

I've found a new place to hide.  A place to be in the same building, worshiping with people but a place where I can hide just the same.  It's in the balcony.  High up above the main floor, where I can sing, where I can listen, where I can use my cell phone to send text messages if the sermon is really boring, where I can chew gum and blow bubbles and not have anybody see me.

I also like to hide in plain sight.  Be there, with people, but not really joining in the moment.  I do that a lot.  It's not healthy, to be honest.  It's a protective mode, keeping myself "hidden" from the people around me so they don't really see all that is going on beneath the surface.  It's a mess under there.

Which is really the problem, right now.  There's a mess under the surface of the exterior of me.  There's a disconnect.  It's something that has been growing and growing and growing, getting so large and overwhelming.  I want to deal with it and yet, I just don't want to either.  So I'm in hiding, of sorts, trying to keep one foot in front of the other, nodding and smiling at the right moments but just feeling numb on the inside, distracted, disconnected and just tired.

Here I am...

































and here is God.

We've been here before, God and I.  God hasn't left me, I haven't really left God.  There is just this wide chasm in me that feels miles apart from God...and I'm not really sure what I want to do about that.

I'm in hiding.  Sitting at the top of the balcony, watching the goings on, not really participating, if I'm honest, and not really sure that I want to participate all that much.  I'll just sit up there, chew my bubble gum and blow bubbles, all the while wondering where to go from here.

A post about current events

"Once in a while, our culture needs to be surprised by how much we love people–all people. Once in a while, our culture needs to be overwhelmed with joy that we are involved in the greater story. Once in a while, our culture needs to see us being a part of the solution and not the problem."--Matthew Paul Turner


This week I have been struggling to even want to belong to "the church" anymore.  I'm tired, oh so tired, of the debates about who is in and who is out.  Who is wrong and who is right.  I'm tired of feeling ashamed of the label of "Christian".  I'm tired of the finger pointing.  I'm tired of turning on my computer/TV/radio and being slammed in the face with hatred.  I'm tired of all of this.


But I'm not tired of God.  I'm not ashamed of Jesus and those two facts alone have kept me from calling it quits this week.  I may be tired of all the hoops and words and condemnation and anger and justification but I still love God and still love Jesus.  I'm clinging to the hope that one day the church will remember that we are called to love all people and can be a part of the solution, not the problem.

A post about the box

I've always had a problem with the box.  I haven't always been aware of my problems with the box but looking back I've always struggled with the box.  I've struggled with the box in different context, the biggest place that I've struggled with the box, though, has been in the church.

The box of church, in my opinion, often keeps God from people.  The box of church has said "this is what faith looks like, imitations and fakes will not be tolerated".  The box of church has told people God only reacts one way and you must jump through these hoops to get to God.  The box of church has limited what God can and will do.

The more and more I grow in my knowledge and faith, the harder it gets to be okay with the box the church has made for God.  For the more I grow in my faith, the more questions I have, the more acceptance I have, the more love I have.  Yet it seems if I love and accept and question more, then I no longer fit in the box of church.

And yet, everyday I see I am not the only one.  There are others out there that are struggling with the box.  Ones to whom God is real, immensely unfathomable and immensely powerful.  Ones who admit they struggle and yet aren't giving up on faith.  Ones who are vocal and not afraid to stand up and say "the God I serve does not live in a box".

I've always struggled with the box because the God I believe in, the God I serve does not live in a box.