nomad takes root

One year married today...

2011-10-10T20:29:00.000-07:00

I know that I have not posted in awhile. I decided today as I moved from reading and commenting on one of my friend's new blogs that I should take this opportunity to plunge back into the writing world.

I got married a year ago today on 10-10-10. It was a whirlwind romance that took a lot of people by surprise. I didn't want to miss my 10's! Too much goodness at one time to pass up! I look back to a year ago and laugh. It was the best decision I have made after saying yes to Jesus. I would love to say that my husband Thaddeus was my choice, but as we both will attest, it was all God.

I am learning so much about sharing life and my whole self with someone else. It most of the time seems effortless because I feel fully accepted and loved. When you feel that way, it really is not only easy, but desirable to open up and let your inside life come out of hiding. I feel whole in a new way.

I also am understanding God in a very different way. The concepts of companionship, security, faithfulness, loyality are taking new shape and seem much more attainable than what I could have imagined them to be. The neat thing about all this is that we are at the beginning. Yes it takes work, but mostly for me it takes surrender and trust, not so much in relationship to my husband, but in relatinship to God. This relationship is on Him. We both know it. There is something extremely comforting about that.

So, that is all I am going to say about that for the moment. I needed this return to the keys and screen. It is time to start putting some of this inside life that has crept out of hiding into black on white.

East Coast

2009-06-03T13:45:00.000-07:00

Hello all,
My Mom and I are in Memphis, TN visiting my Mom' s aunt and her family. We will pull out at 6 AM tomorrow morning on our way back to Texas. We will pick up my Dad and Aunt Ja in East Texas and head toward Dallas. Donna Renee and one of her friends will pick me up and we will head south to Austin where we will meet up with Laura at a send-off party. Friday we will leave Austin headed toward Florida, our first East Coast stop. Most likely we will land in Sebring, FL where my old roommate from Montana is living for the summer. After a few days, we will begin our trek up the coastline. Can't wait to see where all God has scheduled our divine appointments. Please pray our safety, provision and protection. We are super pumped!

If you want to follow our journey, you can find us at www.LookingforGodinAmerica.com. Go make some of your dreams come true!

Love and Light, Angela

Equality

2009-04-30T16:30:00.000-07:00

"The full and complete development of the world and the cause of peace requires the maximum participation of women as well as men in all fields."
-United Nations Declaration on Elimination of Discrimination Against Women

I have been thinking a lot lately about equality between the sexes. It has been weighing on my mind as I have been contemplating ordination. I find myself caught in a dilemma that begs a lot of thought and heavy meditation. As a chaplain you have to be commissioned, licensed, or ordained by a particular denomination. Here in Montana, I was commissioned by my American Baptist church plant. I did not even know what an American Baptist was until I got to Montana. I would dare say that a lot of American Baptists would have a hard time defining what their denomination believed. It really varies per congregation. I was looking into pursuing ordination with them since they do ordain women, but I was told by a chaplain who moved from out of country to Texas that it was a very negative affiliation in the Lone Star State. Other Baptists did not want to associate with her. She found herself forced into joining the Methodist ranks since she was rejected in the Baptist community for her denominational background. Since I am returning to Texas and have no real tie to the American Baptist doctrine, I am now searching for the right denomination to join. This has been a painful process.

I have found that my options are really limited due to my gender. I grew up with a very Ecumenical background, being a member of many different Protestant denominations. Of all the churches that I grew up in, I only had male pastors. My Dad grew up Southern Baptist and my Mom grew up staunch (PCA) Presbyterian (the conservative branch). Both denominations believe that only men can be senior pastors and elders.

I remember seeing a female pastor conduct a funeral for one of my mother's cousins as a child. A lady in robes. That felt strange to me, but I still remember it. It made an impression.

I remember when I felt called to seminary, I had no idea what a woman could do in regards to Kingdom work. According to my upbringing, I knew that we couldn't be pastors, elders, deacons, or teach mixed Bible studies. We could sing in the choir, teach children's Sunday school, cook for church gatherings and wash dishes, and the boldest of us could stand up and give a testimony during the Sunday evening service. I certainly knew that those jobs did not require a Bible school education, much less a Seminary degree. I did know that women could do a bit more if they agreed to leave the country and become a missionary. I guess that is why my little girl heart leaped at the thought of Lottie Moon and Amy Carmichael. If you got far enough away from here, you could pretty much do whatever God would ask you to do. So, when I got the call to go to seminary, one in which endorses the same stance of the churches that I grew up in, I was a little baffled. What on earth was God wanting me to do? I scrolled the list of degrees on my seminary website and found what I considered the jackpot. Biblical Counseling. I had been investigating masters degrees in counseling and was excited thinking this must be the answer. I got there and found that it was not the right match for me.

I had a mentor from Singapore who was a professor of Christian Education. She affirmed that there was much more freedom for women overseas to serve. I found myself hanging out with many international students there and found it appalling when discussing their experience thus far (four weeks into school) . The Asian female students were very surprised by how "oppressed" the women of America are. You can just imagine my reaction. Here were women coming from countries notorious for horror stories regarding the treatment of women and young girls telling me that our women were oppressed. When I asked them how we were oppressed, they told me that they couldn't believe how women were limited in their roles in Christian service. Most of them had been ordained in their country and had been serving as pastors. They had been sent by their churches to seminary to further their education and ability in their current roles as senior pastors. When I realized that their observations had only been what they had seen on campus, it broke my heart. It was not America they were observing. It was my seminary.

Since I have left seminary, I have visited churches that allow women to be ordained and to preach. Some I track with theologically, some I do not. Serving on staff with my American Baptist church plant, I had the unique opportunity to preach three Sunday mornings. As a chaplain I have conducted three weddings and numerous funerals. A chaplain must be prepared to serve in all of these roles. I am about to return to Texas and will be asked in my residency program to perform all of these duties. I need to be covered by a denomination to do that. So what group do I join?

I have a huge problem with the schisms of the Protestant church. You see, there is not a denomination that sums up my belief structure. It would take at least twelve or more to cover all of what I embrace. I don't have that option. I must choose. Yet my real belief is that we are all wrong in the Protestant world. We are divided. That in and of itself is against God's word and plan. We are to be of one mind, one baptism, in unity and love. How are we doing with that? I think we are failing and grieving the Spirit. Every time we get upset, we split. Problem.

Another hefty dilemma I have is in weighing my decision. I am finding that most of the churches that I resonate with the most theologically exclude me from their leadership ranks. The ones that make me cringe would have no problem putting their seal of approval on my feminine self. If I sign up with one of the ones who would limit my participation, I would find myself lacking in man's permission to do God-ordained work. If I join a denomination that I do not agree with theologically, I would find myself ousted for preaching truth and offending the congregants who would only be showing up for a bout of ear tickling. What is a girl to do?

All this being said, bottom line. My best friend, female, called me after her second Sunday of preaching on Sunday morning to tell me that she has been asked to preach a third. This was the first time I have heard her alive and excited since she graduated from seminary. She was getting to do what God had spiritually gifted her for and what she learned at seminary to do. Sad that she had to wait three years to actually do it. That church is led by a woman pastor who was mortified when her husband and the elders in the church called her out to do what God had created her to do. Her spiritual gift: Preacher. Her husband's: Evangelist. They had been forcing themselves into awkward roles simply based on their genders. Now she leads the church (under her husband's covering) and he goes to Africa and India and leads hundreds of people to Christ. It seems to work much better than when he was serving as senior pastor and she as women's minister. They had to change denominations to do that. And so it goes.

I am still wrestling with this. I have heard many sermons on what a woman can and cannot do based on the Bible. I have heard it from all angles and just want to be obedient to God. I am believing that He will show me what He wants and I know that whatever decision I make, people will disagree. That's one of the risks of making a decision. Please pray for me, whatever your own stance may be, that I will faithfully follow the voice of my Father and land where He can best use me.

Eavesdroppings

2009-04-26T12:48:00.000-07:00

Heavenly palette wars are on in the Missoula valley this somnolent Sunday afternoon. Grim gray has come back for an encore performance. Big sky blue refuses to be upstaged. Good work, blue. You are the winner for the moment. Never mind what that weatherman said.

I am sitting at the Zootown Brew coffee bar, perched on the best people watching stool in the house. I am facing Broadway, watching Missoulians drift by, sometimes stopping in their obedient red light position, sometimes maneuvering the green light traffic at 35 mph. Across the street from me is the FedEx Kinkos, one of the few establishments that remains open 24 hours. Next to it in the two tone green building is Jem Shoppe Jewelers and Bob's Sew-Vac Center. The trees right outside the window are covered in knobby tips waiting to spring open.

I had brunch at a little breakfast nook called Dauphine's a few hours ago. I overheard a group of eight talk about when they were younger, what words they could and could not use in front of their parents. They all seemed to have grown up in homes where there were definite verbal boundaries. They also seemed pretty proud (based on their colorful word choices) that they were now grown up enough to no longer be under the confines of parental censorship. The conversation brought back memories of my own mom and dad's house rules, the ones my brother and I loved to bend as often as possible. My cellular memory also reminded me of the consequences that swooped across our backsides when said bending was discovered.

I left a pen that had an invitation to my current church on it and a Looking for God in America information card for my waiter with noteworthy customer service skills. We got the pens this morning during the service. Our pastor handed them out and challenged us to plant them all over town like seeds, to let people know that we exist and hopefully to plant good actions with those pens, like nice tips, or any other action that might be appreciated. He preached on the feeding of the 5,000 from the book of Mark and encouraged us to switch from our instant response of focusing on what we don't have to a place of offering what we do have. He said that if each of us stay in a place of working independently, then we would find ourselves lacking, but when we bring our resources together, all those drops in one bucket could really get some things done and make a real change.

This morning in my quiet time, I was reading II Corinthians 9, the same message I heard this morning from Mark.

6Remember this: Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously. 7Each man should give what he has decided in his heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. 8And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work. 9As it is written: "He has scattered abroad his gifts to the poor; his righteousness endures forever." 10Now he who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will also supply and increase your store of seed and will enlarge the harvest of your righteousness. 11You will be made rich in every way so that you can be generous on every occasion, and through us your generosity will result in thanksgiving to God.
12This service that you perform is not only supplying the needs of God's people but is also overflowing in many expressions of thanks to God. 13Because of the service by which you have proved yourselves, men will praise God for the obedience that accompanies your confession of the gospel of Christ, and for your generosity in sharing with them and with everyone else. 14And in their prayers for you their hearts will go out to you, because of the surpassing grace God has given you. 15Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift!

I just found a great quote by James Lowell on the bathroom wall. "All the beautiful sentiments in the world weigh less than a single lovely action." I guess the theme for the day is action sowing.

It has been a grand day of snippet gathering from sermons, diners, and bathroom walls. Just in case you were wondering, the winner of the day is Big sky blue! Thanks be to God for His limitless lovely actions. May we go forth and share what has been generously sown in us.

Ambivalence

2009-04-18T18:43:00.000-07:00

am⋅biv⋅a⋅lence /æmˈbɪvələns/
–noun
1. uncertainty or fluctuation, esp. when caused by inability to make a choice or by a simultaneous desire to say or do two opposite or conflicting things.
2. Psychology. the coexistence within an individual of positive and negative feelings toward the same person, object, or action, simultaneously drawing him or her in opposite directions.

I had a rare discovery moment about a month ago. Maybe this has happened to you before. I was sitting in a lifeshifting workshop and the trainer kept using the term "ambivalent feelings". Now I love this word, have used it on numerous occasions, but realized as I applied the context clues to the aforementioned word, that I had a very wrong definition floating around in my head. I think the first time I remember hearing that word (sometime in 8th or 9th grade), I registered it in my cerebral dictionary, per context clues, as synonym for "indifferent". Now the new computation via the new context clues led me to "conflicting views or feelings." Finding myself in my own state of ambivalence, I had to go look it up just to verify my new aha. Right-o. How did I go all this time with that misunderstanding firmly rooted in my noggin? The mind is a mysterious maze.

So, this is not just a confessional moment about a linguistic blunder, but also a chance to tell you that I find myself in a place of ambivalence. Thirty days until I depart Missoula, Montana. Thirty days until I start winding my way back home. I came up here with a very full carload of stuff and find myself now with two and a half carloads. Not surprising, except for the fact that I just threw away a bunch of stuff and had a huge yard sale. I am going to be repacking boxes in the next thirty days and obviously throwing out more or breaking down and shipping some boxes back home ahead of me. How do I feel about that? Ambivalent.

We just hired my new replacement at work. We had five candidates. My boss and I conducted the interviews. How did we find ourselves the next day? Ambivalent.

The Montana Spring I prayed for is very much in bloom. The grass on the ground, running up the sides of the gentle mountains is metamorphosing from dead winter brown to St. Patrick green. The birds have found their steady twitter, and the other buzzes that promise a return to life are thickening the air. Ducks and geese are frequenting the local watering holes, and heavenly baby blue has dethroned grim gray. Thirty more days to watch the season come full term. Ambivalence once again. I find myself housesitting on the golf course. The home I visited in June of 2007, the place where I found my next assignment and kindred spirits to create church in a way that we had always envisioned. Now, I sit on the balcony, the temperature wheel reading 64 degrees, awaiting a sunset as I face an unobstructed west. Thirty more days to bask in the beauty of big sky country. Thirty more sunsets from this vantage point. A melancholy ambivalence washes over me, my cells soaking in the plethora of blue as it shifts and fades.
This morning I ventured out to one of my favorite gatherings: Living Art of Montana. They have Saturday morning workshops. An old flyer said that today was a writing workshop, my favorite. When I got there I found out that my flyer information had been changed. Today it was "Flower Fairies." I have enjoyed everything that I have ever done at the workshops, but I had my heart set on writing. I talked myself from a place of grumpy ambivalence to a place of surrender. I decided to join the frolicking of the other fairy makers. My fairy is somewhat of a showgirl, bedazzled in iris purple, gladiola yellow and an unidentifed orange. Her hair is two Rapunzel-length red and purple braids. Her wings are lavender and royal purple and her heart-shaped mouth is scarlet. Most people decided to make their fairies garden inhabitants. Having no garden at present, mine is living on the dashboard of my car. She finds herself ambivalent to the extremities of the dashboard offerings. A true winged diva. So, that is what my days look like, with thirty more in this place. Ambivalent I find myself, too conflicted to be indifferent.

Brokenness

2009-04-06T22:48:00.000-07:00

You cannot talk about things which you have never experienced. It seems to me that God has a process of training us. You cannot take people into the depths of God unless you have been broken yourself. I have been broken and broken and broken. Praise God that He is near to them that are of a broken heart. You must have a brokenness to get into the depths of God.

-Smith Wigglesworth

What a thought. I have been emailing back and forth with one of my friends and she is in that place of brokenness. Her question is what do you do when the Remedy is the same as the Cause? I wish I had no idea what that question felt like, but I know that it has escaped my lips and heart more than once.

I think about brokenness in the context of the quote in regards to ministry. I think of it in regards to community. What must I go through to be able to really be there, available and knowing, for others?

I remember once when I was studying the book of Hebrews and read that Jesus learned obedience through suffering. That verse knocked me on the floor. The idea that Jesus, perfect, would a) have to learn anything b) learn a thing like obedience c) the mode of learning would come through the form of suffering. If Jesus, perfect, had to learn such a thing through such extreme measures, what did that mean for little ole imperfect, rebellious me? That meant that to be like Christ, I was going to have to go through some things. Ouch!

That idea has settled into my fiber. I have come to just expect it. I remember when one of the ladies that Renee and I had the privilege to get to know and do a bit of discipling with was talking about an accident that she had that changed her body. She said that she did not find herself asking God why this thing had happened to her. She asked instead why shouldn't it? Bad things, hard things, happen to people all the time. Why shouldn't it be any one of us? Why should it be someone else? That has lingered with me. I often find myself replaying that comment when I hear someone at the hospital ask the "Why me" question.

The thing that surpirses me more than suffering is when the blessings come my way. I find myself truly amazed when things work out, when people in my life have good things happen, when people I pray for get well, when a dream of mine comes true. It blows my mind when God decides to shine His goodness, His grace, His mercy on me, over and over and over again. I often ask, who am I to deserve such favor? Then I remember that I am the daughter of the Almighty Creator who loves me and promises to lavish His love on His children.

Sometimes the most loving thing is not giving me what I want. I think I get that. Sometimes, God allows me to suffer so that I can learn to be more obedient. Sometimes, the love is painful. Sometimes, I have to experience sorrow to grow.

One of my favorite illustrations that I heard about brokenness was in the Old Testament in Judges 7 when Gideon went out to fight the army with his very small band of men. It was at night and Gideon's men were armed with just torches covered by empty jars and trumpets. When the battle cry was given, the men broke the jars, and with a torch in one hand and a trumpet in the other, they created a comotion that led to the enemy camp turning on itself to a self-destructive end. Once the jars hiding the light were broken, the light could be seen.

So too it is with our jars of clay. If we remain simple, unborken jars, then our light will stay hidden. It is in the breaking process that the light can shine forth. I pray that God will help me, us, to allow Him to keep busting up the things in us that hide the light. May our brokenness lead us to the place of being able to be obedient to the command our LORD gave us to "Let our light so shine before man." May our brokenness be a source of comfort to those that God puts in our path. May our light help guide them to a deeper place of knowing God. May our brokenness lead us to a deeper intimacy with the One Who went before and showed us the value of the breaking process.

Blessings as God pours out His Love and Light on His beautiful, broken body, making us new.

Challenge

2009-03-22T14:12:00.000-07:00

Okay,

So this week I went back to Dallas for several reasons. On Valentine's Day I felt my boat (my symbol for me) being untied from the dock post and slowly drifting back out into the water. I took that as my release from my divine appointment in Missoula. The word Apply, Apply, Apply rang in my heart. For what? I thought about what shape my life has taken in the past year and a half that I have been here in Montana. I served on a church plant staff. I have been serving as a hospital chaplain. I have been inviting people into my home for dinner parties, Bible studies, conversations, holiday celebrations, birthday blowouts. What now? My church closed, my full time status at the hospital (a carrot that has been dangled in front of me for about four months) still is not, my roommate and co-community builder has moved back to Washington, leaving me with a house that has to be vacated by the end of the month.

In Dallas there are two chaplain residency offerings. There is a beautiful little girl who my brother and sister-in-law just adopted, there are friends, mentors, and churches, new and old, to choose from. There are family members who have been waiting on me to build relationships. There are Sonics and lots and lots of pick-up trucks. There is sunshine. There is tension. There is traffic. There are all kinds of everything, if you drive long enough.

So, I look to the point of transition. I look to choosing which hospital I thank for the offer and say no thank you to and which one I send my deposit and tuition to and secure my place for the 12 months of learning. I find the house mates that will join me in the high-rise, skylined city for a little counter-cultural hippie living, the big historical home with multiple inhabitants, all willing to share space, meals, finances, and responsibility and see what life with others is all about. I find ways to bring this very new and very fueled sense of social justice and reform back to a place where others are still trying to make a break and fend for themselves. I find a way to bottle my new thoughts and speech and smuggle as much raw communication back into a Christianese-drenched dialect. I find my way back to where I came from, aware that the difference may take some getting used to.

Many challenges await me. Telling people goodbye in this place that has done its very best to welcome and encourage me. Training the person who will take my place at the hospital and help them feel ready and confident when I leave to continue growing what was started and make imprints of their own. Cementing those precious friendships that kept me going when I only wanted to run away, Soaking up every bit of beauty, leisure, joy, and life that is meant for me here. Pouring out all that is left for me to give.

That is the challenge. My best guy friend challenged me this week to look past my fears, my doubts, and my wounds, and to get to the thing that I know I am to do. No lame excuses. Just write. So, I am taking the challenge and doing just that. My desire is to be heard. To be known. I have to express to be experienced. I am meeting the challenge in this blog and in the divine appointments that await me. I will write and pray that those who need to hear what is being said will take the time to read it. I'll do my part. Here goes.

Bigness

2009-02-19T16:56:00.000-08:00

We fail to realize the largeness of our Father's measure, and we forget that He has a measure which cannot be exhausted. It pleases Him when we ask for most. "How much more." It is much more that God shows me. It is on the line of perfect confidence in Him. The confidence comes not from our much speaking, but it comes from our fellowship with Him...The chief thing is to be sure that we take time for communion with Him...There is no limit as to what we may become if we dwell and live in the Spirit...Oh, beloved, may God help us this afternoon to get our eyes off the conditions and symptoms, no matter how bad they may be, and get them fastened upon Him, and then we shall be able to pray the prayer of faith.

-Smith Wigglesworth

I ordered the complete works of Smith Wigglesworth because he was recommended to me by one of my former students and spiritual mentors, Brandon. On first cracking the collection, I found three pieces that I knew needed to be the fodder for blog response.

I have recently been called into a place where God has new information for me. He has given me some insight about my identity. I was having a chat with my former pastor and we were talking about what it is to be available. This is a hard conversation to have between two people who have recently had to close their church doors, doors that we each had helped open. We talked about how hard it is to be so available, but to be without a job, a pastor with no church.

God put a question on my heart as I listened to my brother speak. "When was the last time you were just son?" When he came to a break in the conversation, I asked the pressing question. It stopped us both. What is it to just be son/daughter when you have been wrapped up for years in so many other different roles? What is it to just be available to God as His child? That is a tough question. We have so conditioned ourselves to believe that as children of God, we have to be more focused on the service and ministry aspects of our calling, that we find ourselves with no time, energy or focus for the One Who we are serving. I know that I have read a lot about this recently in different venues, but to be hit with it straight from God's heart to mine is another matter entirely. I asked if maybe God was wanting us to not be available to work, but simply to be available to being loved by God Almighty. Maybe He just wants us to be available to be looked upon, loved on, and lavished on. Maybe He just wants us to be open to being an object of affection. A child. Purely delighted in just because we are who He made us to be: His kids.

I left that night and started praying for my friend. I started praying that God would show him how to just be son. As I prayed for him, I prayed for myself as well. Help me Father to know how to just be Your daughter. That position is one that is pretty new to me. I think God has been inching me toward it for a couple of years. I have learned alot about the perks of being God's kid: the power, the authority, the position, the encouragement to ask for what I want and need and to live in the confidence that all that is best will come forth. But, I know that what I still need to learn is what it is to just be with God, to be open to spending time with Him in which I am not manufacturing the work, the schedule, or the outcomes. I need and deeply desire to just walk through the day or just rest with Him, being fully aware of His presence and His touch. That would require me to be still and know that He is God. The still part gets me.

I thought that night about positions we find ourselves in when we are doing life with God. I thought about the position of sinner saved by grace. I think I have that one down. I have lived in that one for a long time and still get overwhlemed by the bigness of it, but it is more familiar than any other.

The next position that I thought about was that of child. God showed me a few years back when I started on the quest for understanding my "childhood" that to be a child is to be dependent and expectant. That is why God calls us to His Kingdom as children. He wants us to understand that we need Him and to trust that He will be a good Father to us and will provide all that we could ever need.

The position that He hit me with that I have only dared to take a peek at every brave now and then is that of beloved. Oh, that one will do me in. God showed me that night that He wants me to know Him as beloved, wants me to be known as that. Oh, that one scared me. God showed me that He wanted to love me full on. I immediately pulled in, realizing that the fullness of God would totally consume me. It was too big, too passionate, too much for this mortal girl to handle. Yet, God wanted me to open to that. I started sobbing. How could I deal with all of that? How could I even begin to comprehend it?

My fight against it led me to a place of understanding about myself. God showed me that every time that I have felt like I was too much, that I have been rejected for being too much, offering too much, loving too much, that feeling that I felt, that rejection was what I was doing in that moment to God. When I think myself unworthy, not good enough, not productive enough, not capable enough then I say no to love that is offered. Not only am I robbing myself of being loved in its purest and most magnificent form, but I rob God of the ability to give the gift He created me to experience. Doubly denied.

I am everyday, as of that conversation, asking God to show me how to accept and receive His love. I know it is a weird concept, to have to ask God for help in knowing how to be loved, but I seem to be in dire need of that lesson. I know I am in dire need of His love.

Please join me in talking about these thoughts. I want to know what you are thinking and what lessons you have learned regarding this topic. More than anything, I pray that you too will open up to God's love.

Texas Nomad

2009-02-07T17:58:00.000-08:00

In my quest to have dreams manifested in 2009, I have joined a group of colleagues in chartering a Toastmasters at our hospital. Being a small numbered, overextended group of pioneers, we have decided to meet every other week on Thursdays at lunchtime. There are three in the group who are former Toastmasters, but the other six of us are just getting our feet wet. This past Thursday I did my "ice breaker" speech where you tell something about yourself.

One dream pounding on my cranium is my voice being heard through written and spoken word. I could have just gotten up and talked about myself off the top of my head, being the format that most have followed to date in their icebreakers, but one of the aspects of my dreams being manifested is partnering with the process. What I invest will have a direct impact on the end result. So, I sat down, and albeit, on the day of (yes, my former speech students, I have preached against this) I whipped up a little speech that I am going to share with you. I think it is a piece of the bigger puzzle that I am putting together, in no sequential order of my own.

Texas Nomad
I remember in fifth grade geography class as we were studying some African desert tribe being introduced to a word for the first time: Nomad. It struck a distinct target in me as an arrow finds a bulls eye. My teacher colored the word further for me as she defined what nomad meant. A wanderer, one without a home, one who goes from place to place in search of a specific "thing". Nomad.

My dad was a Texas high school football coach for 30+ years, which meant that my mother, brother and I were hitched to his wagon, dragged more often than not kicking and screaming to the next place that promised an *auspicious* season. This meant that in my first eighteen years, we moved eight times. My brother and I convinced my mom and dad to be still long enough for us to start and finish at the same high school. My parents, then in their fifties, decided that the West Texas flatland was as good as any to call home. I, being my father's daughter, had learned from birth what it was to go after one's dreams, so I put my training to good use and moved on.

Since I left home at eighteen, I have moved 25 times. 22 of them were within the Texas border. In my twenties I deemed myself the Texas Nomad, having traversed the state in every direction, in search of that "thing" that kept me on the move.

Early on I chased fame as I attended two different universities as a drama major. My second university landed me in the Dallas/Ft. Worth Metroplex, where I was introduced to "people of importance" and learned that image was everything. This was a novel concept, considering my upbringing where a person's motives and beliefs were defining factors of who a person was. Now, I was learning a very different take on humanity. It didn't matter what was going on behind closed doors, as long as you were "on" when you opened them. I tried that type of life on for not more than a few months, completely lost, confused, and disgusted by the lack of depth and meaning that definition held. So, I returned to what I knew, because it fit me much better.

My next adventure was the pursuit of money. I graduated with a B.S. in drama and realized that the title spoke for itself. I was too smart and too driven to be a starving actress. So, I got three jobs. I worked my way up in three weeks from part-time salesperson to assistant manager. I quit my other two jobs to begin my climb up the corporate ladder. Within six months, I was managing my own store. Although I was making money, that is all it was. I felt no connection to what I was doing. I missed people. After a horrible downward spiral, I got a phone call from my mom about an alternative teaching program at a college near them. I took the bait and began my new quest for career.

I spent seven years teaching in the public school. I taught in three different towns. As I was gleening the experience needed to become a master teacher, I also found myself in a dual pursuit: love. I met a man, fell in love, and got engaged. Then I realized that I was more in love with the idea of love and banking my hopes more on his potential than on who he was or wanted to be, so the truth won out and we ended the engagement before an ill-tied knot could be fashioned. This loves labor lost as well as the seven year itch of teaching all led to an insatiable need for a larger pursuit.

My father was not only a coach, but was also a Baptist deacon, so church and God were very much an integral part of my identity. I had left my mom and dad's views on church and God with them when I struck out on my own, but I felt a yearning to take up my own search for God. This led to a church that led to a prayer, that led to a conversation, that led me to seminary. I went to find God. I found God and calling.

The story continues from seminary, to teaching in Christian schools to a nationwide road trip that involved the making of a documantary. This road trip led me to Montana, my soft-focused Salvador Dali masterpiece. Now this Texas Nomad is in the process of taking root with more stories to follow.
*indicates the Toastmaters word for the day

The speech is limited to seven minutes. Not much time to sum up almost 38 years. I know I left a lot out, but it may be the start of a longer piece that would give me the chance to include some of the most amazing stories I have had the opportunity to experience. I remember when I was seven, I prayed a prayer I still to this day do not regret: "Please God, don't let my life be boring." God continues to answer that prayer.

Home Alone

2009-01-28T20:59:00.000-08:00

I love doing life with others, but sometimes it's just good to get alone. My roommate is out of town for about 10 days, so I have the house all to myself. I can do whatever I want and not think about another person once I cross my rented threshold . Ohhh, what a glorious, self-absorbed thought.

I have had a lot of change and challenge in the past couple of weeks, so it is nice to be able to have some processing space, where all time on my hands is for me. I have time to listen to my own thoughts, ruminate on my feelings, my doubts, my questions. I actually have time to stop and think through some things without having to ask first how another person is doing.

You see, as a chaplain, I spend 30% of my work day asking questions, 65% of my day listening, and 5% talking. Being a verbal processor myself, I have had to make some adjustments in the last year and a half. I have always been the counselor type since I was in pre-school, but God has always blessed me with friends that have been good listeners. Just seems that I spend less and less time with those people and more and more time with the ones who need me to let them vent. Whew! The ears, mind and heart are wiped at the end of the day. But for the next ten days, amidst the times at work and social engagements that I force upon myself so as not to become a hermit and fall into the isolation trap, I get to hang out with just me...and whomever I so choose to invite. I have some exciting guests on the list, mostly in book form, of course, who have already been gracing my presence and keeping me in very good company. I am in the middle of five such visitations thus far. Amiee Semple McPherson, Smith Wigglesworth, Brennan Manning, Charles Herrick, William A. Dyrness, and tonight I caught up with Ben Stein in Expelled.

My brother and sister-in-law's baby has been delivered as of yesterday and they are anxiously awaiting her to be signed over by the birth mom to their custody. She was a little over two pounds and will be in the NICU in San Antonio for a month. Please pray for them. I got a picture via text today. I wish I could rock her and welcome her into this world.

The church hunt continues. I went to two more on Sunday and will do return visits to two this Sunday morning and a new one on Sunday night. At least there are choices, even when you don't want to have to make one.

I am praying this week about staying in this house, at least for two more months. I have to let my landlord know something by Saturday. My roommate will probably be leaving here after February, but I am not sure the work and ministry of this house is done. Just praying for the roommate(s) and funding to keep it going if that is what God thinks is best. If not, I am praying for a different message to come my way by Saturday.

I am thinking about what it means to be in a place that I have been in for a bit, about how itchy my feet get when a new glimpse creeps across the horizon. I am thinking about what it means to stay rooted when movement starts its siren's call.

Yes, I am home alone.

Sunday, Sunday

2009-01-18T17:19:00.001-08:00

First Sunday of Church Shopping has come and gone. I survived. Two good church experiences ...polar opposites of the evangelical spectrum. The hunt continues.

I had dinner last night with four of the people that I moved to Missoula with to do the church plant in 2007. It is interesting to see how far we have all come since landing here two summers ago. Mostly, the wide-eyed idealism has been replaced with cautious contemplation, causing us to listen more closely and mull things over before we respond to simple questions or outrageous callings.

One couple moved this summer to a small town about 90 minutes away to see what the simple life has to offer, having joined a friend of theirs who is pastoring a church and encouraged them to set up camp and see what God has for them there. It was beautiful to see a new softness, gentleness about my former co-worker and hearing the frequent references to the "work of the Holy Spirit" in his life and decisions was refreshing. My gal friend, his amazing wife, has exchanged a constant franticness for an in-the-process kind of calm. She told me that I would find this side of the transition, as she has, deep connections that I have been longing for in this fenced-off culture where I now live. I am believing this will be one of my 2009 dreams come true. The more willing I am to tear down my fence, the less stands between me and others. In demolishing my barriers, someone may in turn see first that they too have unnecessary walls erected and may just decide to join the demo party.

At the dinner last night, the kids played ring around the rosies ..."ashes, ashes, we all fall down." Remember when we used to just look at each other and in a split second, a game erupted. Maybe when we decide that our fortresses are not all that we first supposed, we will get our brave on, return to the playground and get back into the game. I want to grab somebody's hand and go round and round until "we all fall down." I'll be sure to wear my spinning skirt that goes out when I twirl.

Dreams Manifested in 2009

2009-01-16T16:10:00.000-08:00

I made a deal with my dad at the tail end of 2008 that starting January 5, we would each write 30 minutes a day Monday-Friday and work on evicting all free loadin' poundage that has been taking up residence on our midsections for far too long. The Monday-Friday part of the deal was broken day one by my dad who insisted that it was too cold to go out to his western writing room. His Montanan daughter refused to accept that as a viable excuse. Although the deal was broken, we both continue to stumble toward the concept our handshake created, knowing it would inspire at least some sense of accountability and teamwork.

My mantra this year is Dreams Manifested in 2009. Time for movement and actualization of things that have been boiling, brewing, now begging to come to life. The year started with my family in Plainview, Texas. All of us so tired when midnight came that we wished each other happy new year and made our way to bed. We got up the next day and continued our onslaught of dominoes, Skip-bo, gin rummy, and anything else that demanded to be played. I found myself that night having an amazing conversation with the woman my brother married, the woman who was my best friend for 11 years before she took our last name and became my sister. We talked about land, babies, marriage, Montana, work, ministry and finally resorted to stalking people on facebook.

Day two of 2oo9, I flew back to Montana and found myself landing, not in Missoula, but a couple of hours away in Helena. The weather here in the Treasure State can be tricky when traveling in our longest of all seasons: Winter. You never know where you might find yourself. I ended up on a chartered bus next to a woman who had sat behind me on the flight. We talked all the way back to Missoula about how she became a Mormon having grown up with a Catholic mother, Atheist father, and Presbyterian stepdad.

This past week was quite the hotbed of change. My reason for coming to Montana came to an end. Our church plant had its last gathering this past Sunday, January 11. Although heartbreaking, I know that God has answered our prayer that His ultimate will be done. I have spent the week trying to wrap my head around the need to shift focus and accept the calling that I currently find myself living.

Things at work are advancing. Last week, three days before the church shut down, I was invited into a conversation about going full-time at the hospital with some extensions added to my job description. It also seems that three crucial projects that I have been working on since March may finally have the backing they need to come into existence outside of my head.

My mom called on Wednesday and told me that my dad is going to have surgery on the 23rd and my brother and sister-in-law are about to become parents in the very near future. They were notified on Monday that a birth mother was interested in them and would be interviewing three families. She choose Shelley and Joe. The baby is due in March, but may come much sooner than that. My parents will finally be grandparents and I may be an aunt before February dawns.

My roommate and I are praying about when to move out of our house. The lease is up the end of February. We could go month-to-month or say goodbye to our happy home before Spring hits. My search for a new worship community begins Sunday. I pray it does not take long to find. I am not up for a long stretch of church shopping.

Well, that is as good a way to begin a blog as any. Write what you know. I invite you into a much needed discussion. Better yet, start a story of your own. When you do, make sure you invite me.