My muchness

I've been burdened with my muchness for as long as I can remember.  NO NO NO NO! Stop yourself right now, you are wanting to say.  Never be burdened by your muchness! It is what makes you, you.  I know this and it is a burden nonetheless.  And on the converse side, this is not to say that other people are somehow less intense or passionate or important as me.

I can distinctly remember high school.  How I was often too much and never enough.  I was so intense and in your face with my beliefs and moral and interests. I was not enough with my lack of interest in drinking and dating and other shallow interests (at least I thought so at the time). I was never the right something.  My muchness always consumed me.

My muchness has transformed over time.  My passions have changed.  My intense need to be me has transformed.  Here's what I've found, my muchness is a burden and a blessing. My muchness, oh my muchness, how it makes everything so much more intense.

People are initially attracted to muchness.  They see your passion.  They see your intensity and they want a part of that. So enticing, I'd imagine. When you are looking in, it seem so wonderful.  It's not.  It's scary as hell.  It's in your face.

I often joke with friends that people stick around for less than two weeks. That's all the more it takes for most people to be "over it". I no longer mind much anymore.  Everyone says they are "different", that they'd never be sick of me, but few are right, and that's okay.  My muchness states that I can't be held back by the feelings of others.

My muchness is a blessing for those who stick, truly stick.  Not the ones who hang on by a thread to bask in my energy.  That's unfair to me.  It wastes my time, and energy and frankly, it wastes theirs too, to be partially consumed with each other, but nothing that matters too much.  While I don't think it's always intentional, it usually ends up hurting.

M muchness will fill your heart with love, your body with energy and leave your face with a smile.  I'll remember the little things.  Celebrate small victories with you.  I will have your back no matter what, to the moon and back.

Yes.  I will be intense.  I will take up your time.  I will laugh.  I will be silly.  I will cry.  I will text you at 3am when I can't sleep.  I will remember things you didn't think I could possibly remember.

My muchness isn't for everyone, I realize that now. It is a blessing for those who can handle it and occasionally a curse for me.  I will always attract people with the brightness of my flame. And I will scare those same people off with the heat of my fire.

Dearest Mom,

Dearest Mom,

Today on Mother's Day, I thought long and hard about how I could best honor you.  No gift is enough, no card quite right.  SO, I thought, maybe writing you something might be a more appropriate gift.

From a mom, to my mom, on Mother's Day, as I reflect on my childhood until now, first and foremost, Id like to say, I'm sorry!  I know you're probably thinking that there's no apology needed, but I declare it warranted.  You see, I know now, being a mom is no joke.  It's 24/7 worry/nerves/regret/happiness/love and it is INTENSE! You couldn't have possibly warned me.  But you showed me how to be a mom from the time I can remember.

My best memories from grade school and high school are the ways that you made me feel special and important.  I remember in high school when someone broke up with me and you sent me flowers to cheer me up.  I remember you sending me flowers on Valentines and remembering which soda and candy I preferred.  You bought brand specific mac and cheese because you knew I preferred it. You often were my most ardent cheerleader, while giving me space to make my own decisions.

You've always supported my hopes and dreams.  No matter how small (trying out for a competitive cheer squad, making it, and subsequently quitting) or big (shooting for the stars and ending up at seminary).  You came to every basketball game that you could.  You supported my multiple after school activities, even going from one to the next.  I'm not sure you had time to even think sometimes, and there was only one of me.

Let's be honest, I've fallen on my ass, a lot.  You've never made me feel less than for those mistakes.  You've always supported me through the tough times.  I wouldn't be where I am today without your undying support.  I hope to use that as a guide with my own kids, though you are already their biggest fan as well.

I could never put into words the amazing things you've done for me. Those seen and unseen.  I hope to be half the mother you have been to my own children. I love you until the number end plus one.

Happy Mother's Day.

I can't dance for you anymore.

I can’t dance for you anymore. I know I always have.  I laugh and smile and fill the silences.  I listen to your problems and share deep parts of myself trying to connect in some way to you.  Dancing for you can be like a drug.  You compliment me and praise me.  You think you see hidden parts of me.  And for the moment, you think, “I want to be a part of that”.

But that feeling never lasts.  Eventually I get tired.  The dance becomes sloppy or maybe I ask you to join the dance, but you are more of a wallflower.  The façade starts to crack and you realize, I’m just a normal person.  My special pieces are still hidden away, they were never part of the dance.

I can’t dance for you anymore.  It hides the pieces of me I value most.  I value my soft heart and my big naïve eyes.  I value the trust that I have in others and the need to be kind over anything else. I value the differences in everyone and the heat of a good debate.  I value my happiness much more than I’ve ever valued the dance.

I can’t dance for you anymore.  This dance was never really mine anyway.  It was pieced together from all the people who have come before wanting certain parts of me to shine or fade. I faded until the dance dulled away all that was actually me.  I was merely a shadow on the stage.

I can’t dance for you anymore. It is too tiring and my feet and my soul are hurting.  I’ve fallen away from the parts of my life that help me feel most alive.  The dance became the most important thing to me.  Just one more dance and they’ll finally care enough to make the effort.  Just one more dance and they will understand how much I care.  Just one more dance and they will smile at me the way I smile at them.  Just one more dance and maybe they will notice how much I care about them.  No matter how many times I danced, it wasn’t enough.

I can’t dance for you anymore. It kills me slowly inside, to be “on” all the time.  I just want someone to see the real me.  I want someone to not need me to dance for them at all. So, while I know it’s disappointing, I can’t dance for you anymore.

When the "enemy" becomes your friend.

I find it most interesting that I was so ignorant about so much of Islam. I say that laughingly because I was always the person saying "no, that's not in the Qu'ran, no that's not something that is taught to Muslims" etc etc etc.

I decided to take a class this semester called "Islam: History, Philosophy, and Religion". The class is taught by a religious studies professor and a practicing Muslim. She was born in Turkey, but is a US citizen. She also, until recently, was on the board for the ACLU. This is all important to her identity.

I was completely ignorant about this beautiful religion. I had no idea what was included in the Qu'ran (plenty of stories about Adam, Abraham and Jesus). I had no idea the rich history and tradition that is essential to Islam. I had no idea the racial make up of Muslim in the United States (1/3 African American, 1/3 Indian, Indonesian, and 1/3 Middle Eastern). I had no idea of the cultural effect of certain countries and the direct correlation to their ideas about Islam. I was completely ignorant. That was just weeks 1 and 2!

The story that broke my heart and really opened my eyes was a story she told about her daughter. Her daughter was 5 when 9/11 happened. Several weeks after the attacks, her daughter came and said, "Mama, Why are all Muslims so bad?" (they are of course practicing Muslims, so her daughter is referring to herself and her parents too). A 5 year old had learned through media and school that all Muslims are bad. Why do we not see the crime in this?

It's not simple enough to just say "well they have religious freedom". We need to take a stand against those who are trying (and succeeding) in dehumanizing our Islamic brothers and sisters. Learn more about Islam, learn more about people you may know who are Muslim, stop hate language by protesting or writing letters to those who use it in mainstream media or politicians who use it. Yes we have freedom of speech, we also have the freedom of speech to protest the words used to oppress people.

Am I asking you to worship with Muslims? Certainly not, unless you'd like to and you are welcomed. Am I asking you to convert to Islam? I would never ask anyone to convert or change their beliefs simply to be more open to someone else. All I'm asking is for some basic understanding and a little more love in this world.

"Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere." -- Martin Luther King Jr.

VBS is not the faint of heart

When I signed on last year to do VBS before I started at Affton Christian Church, I had only experienced VBS in my hometown that had a joint effort with the other churches and only had a theme for the week. Certainly no book, and certainly no extravagance.... Boy was I missing out!

This year I worked with Trisha (and helped a little, she bares most of the kudos for working hard at making this go off without a hitch, I only helped where I could...) and VBS happened! This years theme was "Sky" which sounds so simple that it almost seems like it's not a theme, but the creators of this product did a great job using "Sky" as an all inclusive week of fun, games, and learning about God. We learned to "Trust God" and that "Anything is possible with God". We watched movies about Chadder the Chipmunk and did science experiments in "Imagination Station". Overall it was a great week.

Some of the wonderful things that I learned about ministry last week are:

1. Feeding children is a lot like feeding picky sharks. They will swarm when it's something they dearly want. Apparently those things are: popcorn, Popsicles, and ice cream.

2. Apparently the presence of a pastor makes me uncomfortable or feeling like they are being judged. Please please please don't feel this way! If I wanted to be in charge I would ask to be, I'm so grateful you're doing the hard work so I can enjoy working with kids that I am certainly not judging you!

3. Kids get more wound up the later it gets. By the time we reached 8pm I was ready for a nap...and my group was ready for a marathon!

4. Lay leaders are the most hardworking, caring and important individuals in the church. There were countless hours put in by non paid people to make VBS happen and I'm humbled by the amount of enthusiasm and great work that went into making VBS happen.

5. No matter how inclusive the material of all issues related to a bible story a child will always ask a question guaranteed to make most adults uncomfortable! Thankfully (?) I was there to field a couple of those question. However, adults shouldn't worry so much about the questions! Answer them if you can, or simply say "I don't know, let's think about that. or Let's ask Pastor so and so. or Let's try to find some bible stories that might help us."

I'm so thankful VBS taught me some wonderful things and taught my children some wonderful things.

Thanks to Affton Christian Church for the wonderful week!

Joplin: one year later

going to Joplin a second time was both easier and harder. It was easier because I had already seen first hand the destruction. I had already seen the devastation and met some of the survivors. However, it was also harder. Hard to see how much hadn't changed in a year, hard to see how much was still left to do. Hard to see how few volunteers were there compared to the last time.

I met some wonderful people in Joplin this time around too though. We planted trees for three families who had lost their home in the tornado. They told us their stories and were so gracious and kind to us. It was amazing to see the hope of a community come together. It's also not easy to see the overwhelming number of those still in need.


There were boards filled of people who still needed help of some sort. We were overwhelmed to find that out, only to find out that there were stacks of papers that were still sitting in a file that couldn't be even put on the board until other needs on the boards had been fulfilled. Joplin still needs us. They are a community who will rise from the ashes and has already started, but so many people still need the support of churches, people, and organizations. Let us not forget those so close to us.

When people and corporations meet...

In class this week I was giving a presentation about slow violence, specifically environmental racism and environmental violence. I was using a violence theory to explain the violence that is perpetuated by different companies and corporations and I had to step back.

Who am I to judge why or how decisions are being made within companies? How do I "know" that companies are simply doing cost/risk assessment and decided that product profit was more important than healthy families? I can surely assume that, but it isn't fair. Furthermore, if those companies (and the people who run them) did that, don't they deserve a second chance?

I was happy that I was part of a community that helped me step back from what I was thinking and say, "hey, this is something I'm fundamentally against others doing, I shouldn't be doing this either."

So here's to my second chance at approaching grace the right. I'm happy to overthrow judgement and liberate love.