Part Two... a Liturgy Newbie

Whew.

Thanks for reading Part One and not hanging me out to dry.  I'll admit now that I had loads of anxiety during the hours that the post was being read.

So St. Tim's... What was this Baptist girl to do?!?  I grew up at a mainline Baptist church.  I worshipped more recently at an Evangelical contemporary church.  Both of these feel familiar to me. I know how to follow along in a hymnal, or even on projected screen.

Dan had grown up in an Episcopal congregation... worshiping at St. Tim's felt like old home to him.  But me?  I felt like I was reading a script.  It wasn't worship as much as it was a group reading.  My only experience in an Episcopal church prior to this was as a visitor.  In fact, my first experience was when my friend Angela had me visit with her in high school.  The bishop was visiting her small congregation and she wanted me to come to the service.  All I remember is that at some point during all of the sitting and standing I tripped over the kneeler and fell for all the congregation (and the bishop) to see.

When Dan and I married, we didn't have much of a discussion of where we would worship together.  I was on staff at a Baptist church.  No discussion needed.  When we moved to Winston, however, and we began our search- we picked more contemporary services over those of a traditional bent.

So (again) St. Tim's... What?!?!  How on Earth would I even begin to fit in when worshipping in this space at first appeared daunting?  Again, I have nothing to ascribe it to other than the Holy Spirit.  This place felt right.  Immediately.  I knew I was supposed to give it a try.  I knew I was supposed to be open to new things, including giving this faith heritage a chance.

(Small caveat... I am not a big proponent of going where it "feels right"... Church shouldn't be a consumeristic space in our lives, yet it often becomes this.  All I'm sharing now is my perspective of how something so different than my previous experience immediately felt sacred and, well, right.)

What I have found at St. Timothy's is beautiful.

It is a chance to participate in the Church universal- knowing that my prayers are being echoed throughout the world.

It is learning a whole new (to me) faith tradition- and I often feel as though I'm right back in my Religious Study days.  Sometimes in Bible Study my hand goes numb as I am furiously writing all of the nuggets of wisdom I'm learning.

It is beginning to understand the beauty of Liturgy.  And to agree with what my friend John said when he pointed out that Liturgy gives him the structure to worship even when his heart doesn't feel like it. It's putting a dialogue in front of me that I get the chance to participate in- and know that I'm not alone in that process.

15 years ago- the thought of Liturgy would have been a roadblock for me.  It would have felt limiting to all that God could be teaching me.  Today, however, it gives structure for the way in which I hear His voice.

One of the biggest things I've learned in these recent days is that there is so much freedom in how we worship.  Something in which we fail frequently is assuming that truth can only be learned in one way- our way.  And now that I've worshipped in churches that are traditional, mainline, conservative, liberal, liturgical, contemporary, and other... I'm seeing a bigger understanding of Jesus's teachings.  I'm grateful for this path- although at moments it's been beyond painful.  I'm grateful that my community of the faithful has been gracious when we don't line up theologically and politically.

And I'm grateful that His mercies are new every morning.

Thanks be to God.

'Coming Out' Spiritually...

Yesterday I posted a picture on my Instagram account- publicly acknowledging for the first time the shift that has happened in our spiritual home over the last year.  While I am in no way making light of any experience my LGBTQ friends have had... I'll tell you that I felt a little bit that I was Coming Out.

The love I feel for my former church is so intense.  I have been so careful to not share about our current journey for fear it would look like we somehow didn't like them anymore.

Let me save you the trouble of looking for dirt if that's why you're reading this- wondering if maybe I'm gonna spill some big, juicy drama that occurred between us and our former church home.  NOTHING (bad) HAPPENED.

The road to a new church home has consumed the last year of our lives.  So much so, that I'm going to share that experience in two parts.  Not for a drama factor, but just for ease of sharing.

I have been a member of 3 (now 4) churches for all of my life.  The first one, I was born into.  The next one, I chose because of my time and service in Chapel Hill.  The last one, we found after a long search when we moved to Winston.  We knew going into our membership there that we didn't line up theologically 100% (spoiler alert: we're sorta liberal)... but we fell so in love with the people and the fellowship that we allowed ourselves to look beyond any differences and dive right in.  It was in this place that our biggest life events to date took place: we longed for, conceived, lost, and gained children.  We developed deep friendships- and lost some of those friends to tragic, unbelievable death.  We prayed fervently during extreme illness of children and parents... some with joyous outcomes, and some that won't be joyous again until we reach heaven.

In short, we grew in all ways during our time in that sacred space.

Along the way, especially as Elizabeth began to ask hard questions, we wondered if we needed to look at other church homes.  This is where the beauty of our marriage partnership became even more evident.  When I would feel a need to go, Dan would gently remind me that we don't all need to "look alike" in a church... and we would stay.  When Dan would feel a need to go, I would remind him about our beautiful fellowship... and we would stay.  Last year, however, we both came to the same point of needing to go at the same time.

We wept, we talked, we prayed... and we repeated that process over and over until we knew we were doing what was best for our family.

Last summer we began the Church Search again... a long and lonely process of not feeling rooted.  We were blessed, however, to explore so many neat places of worship all over our city.  We met people we wouldn't know otherwise and got a chance to see how Others are "doing church" oh so well.

We found a Community close to our house and were so excited to be welcomed in to their fellowship.  Our kids were part of their Christmas program.  We were loved well during the loss of my Mom.  It felt good.

And then....

One Tuesday night in February, my Book Club went to serve dinner at the Overflow Shelter at St. Timothy's Episcopal Church.

When we walked into the building, I had an experience that I can only accredit to the Holy Spirit.  As I entered the church, I knew it was a special place.  I knew it was somewhere we were supposed to- at least- visit.  St. Tim's had been on our short list, but since we'd plugged in elsewhere, we weren't continuing to look at new churches.  Prior to walking in that first night, I'd had 3 good friends mention to me how much I'd like it there.  One of those friends had a child in E's class and she'd also invited E to come.

So right in the middle of heading toward plugging in elsewhere, we decided to give St. Tim's a try.

And that was the end of that.

We've been there ever since.

Tomorrow's post... Liturgy Newbie

normal.

For the last 3 years, I have been in a state of holding my breath.

I feared we would never hit "normal" again.  Nothing could be normal without Daddy ... after learning of my Mom's dementia... after losing friends to death... after feeling like we lived in a continual state of loss.

And yet here we are.  Normal.

This is what my new normal looks like:

I have an 8 year old who is funny, too smart for me, and helps me navigate our new world.  She keeps me thinking through my answers as her questions challenge me daily.  She is light and laughter and consistency in my days that are chaos.

I am the proud legal guardian of a beautiful, stubborn, and sweet 2 year old.  She has brought us hope in times that we couldn't conjure it up without her.  She loves loudly and deeply and fiercely... and we are thankful for the charge to help guide all of that energy in a safe and loving environment.

I have a mother who is constantly losing who she is.  Her face and sometimes mannerisms remind me of days gone by, but her current dementia filled days make me ache for our old "normal".  I go through times where I can't remember the good... and I am grateful for those who come along side me and fill my heart and mind with memories of her grace, dignity, and wisdom.

I have a precious husband who is often my barometer of pause.  He tells me when I should slow down, encourages me to write more, and will often bring out the next bottle of wine when days are as lovely as they were yesterday and our deck is filled with an impromptu gathering.

I have a faith that is changing and growing... I feel a bit like it's made of Silly Putty- words of days gone by are still imprinted on it, yet in moments I've allowed it to grow harder than is malleable.  I long for the soft and stretchy ease, yet I'm certain that I'm to learn something new in this season.

I have a home that is messy and fluid.  This past week was our Spring Break and we saw friend after friend come through our doors, leaving their mark on our hearts as we enjoyed what spice they add to our home.  Never have I enjoyed a Spring Break more... although I need to detox from the food and drinks and sleep for about 34986 more hours.

And this is our new normal.  Days filled with love and loss and joy and pain and heartache and celebration.  Normal.

I have cringed a bit lately as a few well-meaning friends have suggested that the addition of our sweet  girl is somehow supposed to fill the gap of losing our most recent baby.  While we love that their stories overlap and intersect (we think that Baby J was born right about the time our baby died), one is not a replacement for the other.  One brings hope and mothering into a bleak heart of loss... yet a life cannot be traded one for another.  Yet that is where we are- celebrating the life of one as we remember the loss of the other.  Normal.

I guess this is what being fully human is about.  Holding on to normal quite loosely, realizing that it changes moment by moment.  Trying not to get stuck in the longing for easier days, trying not to wish away the current moment while still anticipating the next.  Reaching out for spicy friends when our own bowl has become bland.  Returning the favor for others by pouring the wine when we are able. Reading and praying and writing and hugging and laughing and crying.  Encouraging others- no matter what their normal looks like- that we will gather with them through it all.

Peace and grace.
And hope for your Normal to be filled with Light, as we exhale together.

Doing (some more) Good

Yesterday, one of my best friends asked me if I was dreading next week.  Wholeheartedly I said yes.  Tuesday, one week from right now, will be my Daddy's birthday and my due date- all wrapped up in one hard day.  Those anticipated events would arrive with little fanfare if I would allow it... but y'all know that's not how we roll.

Before this most recent loss, we lost two other babies.  Their due dates came and went- "celebrated" and remembered by Dan and me.  We would cry- longing to have a child, yet never knowing if we would have one.  I wasn't yet in a place where I felt I had words to express to others what that pain was like- so I smothered it all deep down in my dark places and became a wounded heart.

The loss of this baby is different.  This baby was so loudly celebrated at his or her "arrival" into our lives that it feels only necessary to celebrate the due date, too.  We knew this baby in more intimate ways- we had names picked out, plans made, nurseries nearly assembled.  We were unable to discover the gender, but when I think about our child, I tend to think it was a girl.  I didn't have strong feelings about gender with the others, but maybe it was because I was so closely tied to the girl name that when I think of what she (he?) would be like, I see her as female.

This summer as Dan's aunties were loving on us, we talked about the fact that when I get to heaven, I'll have four children. FOUR. What the what.  I understand that many of my friends have more than that now- but in my earthly home, I only have ONE.  Four will be a huge leap.... thankful that I'll be surrounded by God's glory and not need to worry about raising four children!!

So as we anticipate the 24th and mourn her due date- as well as my Daddy's birthday- we are turning our thoughts away from our own sadness and hurt and looking toward the needs of others.

That day, we are asking some local friends to join us for lunch and to join us in Doing Good.  Our hope is that we will surround ourselves with the people who have supported us mightily in the last several years, enjoy being a community, and take care of the needs of others.  In my email invitation to my Tribe, I asked them to consider Doing Good by one of the following:

- Donating gift cards (that we will in turn distribute as needs arise)
- Give to Meadowlark Meals- a backpack program that helps feed at risk children at our local school
- Donating toward a childhood cancer charity.  (I'd love to recommend this one.)
And, since that initial email was sent, a friend has taken on the task of sending supplies to friends affected by the flooding in Colorado. Maybe you'll donate to that need?

Or maybe there's another need near you that you feel compelled to support... if not, I'd love to help you find one.  As I have said before, in the last 500+ days, some of the times I have felt the most "whole" have been when I've been taking care of the needs of others and not my own.  This is the heartbeat of the Do Good "movement", and it's my hope that you will join us in intentionally Doing Good on September 24th.

What a lovely tribute it would be to my own Daddy, his grandchild, and our community.

Whine, Wine, and Weigh... Success!

Okay, Viral Friends...

My fun post about needing people to commit to getting healthy with me... WORKED!  Tonight I enjoyed pumpkin dip, spiced apple cider, wine, and good company.  There were 8 of us tonight... and as I just created the FB Group for us, it looks like we could potentially have 17 people!

Here's the deal:  We are committing to weigh in every other week (together... we can do more weighing separate from that) and support each other in our desires to be healthy.  Everyone's goals were different- they ranged from losing 20 pounds-- to "getting my mind right"-- to strengthening will power-- to exercising 3 days a week.  What a joy to share REAL life with these women!  (I handed out sheets to help you journal foods... let me know if you'd like copies!)

If you are interested in joining us, let me know and I'll add you to our "private" FB Group.  Right now, we're getting to know each other and posting what our goals are.  We are going to check back in 2 weeks, see how it's going, and decide if we want to include some sort of incentive.

One of the goals someone stated was "Get healthy so we can be old"... when you Google that, you find this lady (among others.)  So I leave you with our new mascot.  Let me know if you want to hang out with us- in person or virtually.