Saturday, May 16, 2015
Thursday, May 14, 2015
The Whoppie Chronicles
There are some things in motherhood that have proven to be entirely elusive: getting to the dentist, making phone calls in general, and evidently, cleaning off the potting soil that mysteriously jumped out of the plant's container and onto a picture frame in the kitchen. These are things that escape me.
When I was pregnant with Carolena the rector's family at our church in Austin threw a baby shower for us and our baby received this:
OH NO!!! WE DON'T EVEN HAVE A PICTURE!!
*gasp for air*get a grip*
type, woman, type
*breathe. in. out. in. out.*
When I was pregnant with Carolena someone gave us the cutest little blankie for our babe. It was a sweet little frog that I knew with a mother's instinct our baby would gravitate to as his or her favorite. And by "mother's instinct" I mean it was sofffttt. And cute. And just the right size. And, as I found out later as I ventured further into the world of motherhood, incredibly popular among children for just those reasons.
In those days a decree went out from Doctor Kish that all the pregnant named Casey Duncan should go on bed rest. This was the first bed rest and was taken while Chris was curate of Good Shepherd. Chris also laid around and ate pizza because he is of the house and lineage of awesome. He ordered Netflix, to be watched with Casey, to whom he was married who was expecting her firstborn child. While they were there, the time came that she should be delivered. And she gave birth to her firstborn daughter and wrapped her in bands of cloth, because that's what people still do today, and laid her in a hospital grade plastic bassinet, because that's what you do in present day North America.
Luke 2!
We brought home our sweet Carolena, she fell in love with her dear little blankie, and Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da life went on. Some time later she named him her "Whoppie Frog" and the two of them became fast friends. A second Whoppie was purchased when she began school marking a new phase in life of "School Whoppie" and "Home Whoppie." They got along charmingly and often got to have slumber parties at Home Whoppie's digs. All was well. At some point along the way one of the Whoppies went missing. Where oh where could that little frog be? Fortunately, with two, there was little fuss and we kept on truckin.
Last week... a moment of silence please... we lost another Whoppie.
WHERE THE *&%! IS THAT FROG?!?!
I know it's in our house. I remember specifically putting it on a chair in our living room when we were leaving the house. The kids were already in the car. I came in to grab my purse, picked up both of their blankies and put them on the chair. We came home and they both grabbed their blankies and played at home all afternoon. Bedtime came and the usual bedtime routine started: bath, brush teeth, read books, search the entire house for Whoppie.... except... he was nowhere to be found...
We (and by "we" I mean Chris and me) have looked everywhere. In every nook and cranny. In dressers. In the couches. In drawers. In the pantry. I've moved furniture. I've even looked in between mattresses and box springs. I've even returned to my Roman Catholic schooling and prayed to Saint Anthony. He is gone. Vanished. AWOL.
The interesting thing is: Carolena doesn't seem to care. I asked her if she misses him. I got a half shrug and a "yes and no." She hasn't looked for him or cried for him at all. Perhaps she was just ready to move on. She is the kid who moved herself out of her crib after all.
I'm not a very sentimental person when it comes to material possessions. I grew up a child of the Treasure House. Chris recently found me gazing upon my childhood rocking horse and when he asked me what I was thinking I replied, "Think we should get rid of that thing?" I am sure he was expecting a fond memory depicting five year old Casey in a hat and bandana. I wrote my thesis on the Gospel of Luke for a reason my friends.
But when it comes to Carolena's missing Whoppie Frog(s) I am a little heartbroken. I do still have my childhood blankie and I want her to have hers. I realize that at some point in life my Carolena will outgrow her blankie. Perhaps that's what has happened. Although, based on her current relationship with Howie (Whoppie's best friend) and the mass amount of stuffed animals residing in her bed I am inclined to think she just lost Whoppie and is handling it exceptionally well. Yesterday I asked her to help me find him and she reassured me saying, "He hopped off to a beautiful place and died. Don't worry. I'll just see him again in the Resurrection."
Faith like a child, my friends. Faith like a child.
We have a quick trip to Austin planned for tomorrow so luckily we have a Whoppie solution. The first time we took Carolena back to Austin we made a big deal about it being her birth city. We drove past our old house and the hospital where she was born. When we passed by a little boutique baby store I pointed it out to her as the place Whoppie came from (it is). There are many things in this life of motherhood that are elusive to me. Whoppie Frog is not going to be one of them. We've had Home Whoppie and School Whoppie. Now we're going to bring Carolena to the place where Whoppie's are born and let her adopt another one. Geeze, you should buy some stock in Angel Dear, I hear they make a killing on repeat business.
Hey, look at that! I found a photo:
When I was pregnant with Carolena the rector's family at our church in Austin threw a baby shower for us and our baby received this:
OH NO!!! WE DON'T EVEN HAVE A PICTURE!!
*gasp for air*get a grip*
type, woman, type
*breathe. in. out. in. out.*
When I was pregnant with Carolena someone gave us the cutest little blankie for our babe. It was a sweet little frog that I knew with a mother's instinct our baby would gravitate to as his or her favorite. And by "mother's instinct" I mean it was sofffttt. And cute. And just the right size. And, as I found out later as I ventured further into the world of motherhood, incredibly popular among children for just those reasons.
In those days a decree went out from Doctor Kish that all the pregnant named Casey Duncan should go on bed rest. This was the first bed rest and was taken while Chris was curate of Good Shepherd. Chris also laid around and ate pizza because he is of the house and lineage of awesome. He ordered Netflix, to be watched with Casey, to whom he was married who was expecting her firstborn child. While they were there, the time came that she should be delivered. And she gave birth to her firstborn daughter and wrapped her in bands of cloth, because that's what people still do today, and laid her in a hospital grade plastic bassinet, because that's what you do in present day North America.
Luke 2!
We brought home our sweet Carolena, she fell in love with her dear little blankie, and Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da life went on. Some time later she named him her "Whoppie Frog" and the two of them became fast friends. A second Whoppie was purchased when she began school marking a new phase in life of "School Whoppie" and "Home Whoppie." They got along charmingly and often got to have slumber parties at Home Whoppie's digs. All was well. At some point along the way one of the Whoppies went missing. Where oh where could that little frog be? Fortunately, with two, there was little fuss and we kept on truckin.
Last week... a moment of silence please... we lost another Whoppie.
WHERE THE *&%! IS THAT FROG?!?!
I know it's in our house. I remember specifically putting it on a chair in our living room when we were leaving the house. The kids were already in the car. I came in to grab my purse, picked up both of their blankies and put them on the chair. We came home and they both grabbed their blankies and played at home all afternoon. Bedtime came and the usual bedtime routine started: bath, brush teeth, read books, search the entire house for Whoppie.... except... he was nowhere to be found...
We (and by "we" I mean Chris and me) have looked everywhere. In every nook and cranny. In dressers. In the couches. In drawers. In the pantry. I've moved furniture. I've even looked in between mattresses and box springs. I've even returned to my Roman Catholic schooling and prayed to Saint Anthony. He is gone. Vanished. AWOL.
The interesting thing is: Carolena doesn't seem to care. I asked her if she misses him. I got a half shrug and a "yes and no." She hasn't looked for him or cried for him at all. Perhaps she was just ready to move on. She is the kid who moved herself out of her crib after all.
I'm not a very sentimental person when it comes to material possessions. I grew up a child of the Treasure House. Chris recently found me gazing upon my childhood rocking horse and when he asked me what I was thinking I replied, "Think we should get rid of that thing?" I am sure he was expecting a fond memory depicting five year old Casey in a hat and bandana. I wrote my thesis on the Gospel of Luke for a reason my friends.
But when it comes to Carolena's missing Whoppie Frog(s) I am a little heartbroken. I do still have my childhood blankie and I want her to have hers. I realize that at some point in life my Carolena will outgrow her blankie. Perhaps that's what has happened. Although, based on her current relationship with Howie (Whoppie's best friend) and the mass amount of stuffed animals residing in her bed I am inclined to think she just lost Whoppie and is handling it exceptionally well. Yesterday I asked her to help me find him and she reassured me saying, "He hopped off to a beautiful place and died. Don't worry. I'll just see him again in the Resurrection."
Faith like a child, my friends. Faith like a child.
We have a quick trip to Austin planned for tomorrow so luckily we have a Whoppie solution. The first time we took Carolena back to Austin we made a big deal about it being her birth city. We drove past our old house and the hospital where she was born. When we passed by a little boutique baby store I pointed it out to her as the place Whoppie came from (it is). There are many things in this life of motherhood that are elusive to me. Whoppie Frog is not going to be one of them. We've had Home Whoppie and School Whoppie. Now we're going to bring Carolena to the place where Whoppie's are born and let her adopt another one. Geeze, you should buy some stock in Angel Dear, I hear they make a killing on repeat business.
Hey, look at that! I found a photo:
Tuesday, May 12, 2015
My Open Letter to the Church
If there is one thing Millennials hate it's being told what to do. I know. I myself am somewhere in the upper range of Millennials (1983 - hollah!). And I loathe being told what to do. Ask anyone. Ask my mother. Ask my husband. Ask my old boss who used to frequently lay tasks on my desk only to be met with a screeching, "No! You do it!" He had to get a job in the bishop's office to hide from me and my wrath. Thus far my demands that the Rev Canon Newt now rehire me as his right-hand gal have been unfruitful. Of course, I've applied for my job to be to sit next to him while we wear matching sweater vests and I smoke a pipe looking thoughtful. Perhaps he just doesn't realize yet how necessary this position is.
All this is to say: Don't tell me what to do. I do what I want.
So why is the Church bending over backward to get us Millennials in the door? Eeew. Gross. Hello every denomination in America, have you ever heard of playing hard to get? Okay, I'm kidding... a little... but not entirely. Hear me out...
From my viewpoint it seems like getting my generation into the doors is all the American Church wants to talk about lately. "Wah, wah, Millennials aren't going to church. *cry*"
Church! Pull yourself together! So someone doesn't like you! It happens! You are acting like the teenage girl whose boyfriend breaks up with her and she won't stop calling him. Oh honey, that isn't how you win him back. For heaven's sake child, hang up the damn phone. Put a cool washcloth on your eyes so they don't look puffy in the morning. Slather on some makeup and don your most fabulous outfit. Then go to school and be the most beautiful, charming, and interesting person there. That'll have him regretting his decision to ask Tammy to prom instead of you.
Church... do you see what I'm getting at here? You are spending so much time chasing after the Millennials, and trust me, you look desperate. Who wants to hang out with the desperate girl who wont stop calling? No one. That's who. I said something along these lines to a friend recently and her face showed her instant disapproval: she was appalled. She kindly said, "but what about the Great Commission?" Yep. What about it? Have the Millennials not heard of Christ? Is the Church meeting in a secret undisclosed location that only they are not allowed to know about? The Millennials are uninterested because the Church is uninteresting to them.
Yep, I said it. And I'll say it again: the Millennials are uninterested because the Church is uninteresting to them. Do I need to say it in all caps?
Here's the thing Church with a capital letter C: you don't have to chase after this generation of young people. They know you exist. They just aren't that into you. And that's okay. Because someday they will be interested, and you'll still be here. Right here waiting with open arms for the prodigal son generation to return.
So, what to do about this "uninteresting" thing, eh? We can't just leave that big awkward elephant standing here in the room can we? Here's the deal... young people are bored by headlines like "Millennials Leaving the Fold" which is what I saw when I clicked on cnn.com this morning. Strangely enough, Millennials aren't that interested in hearing about Millennials. We feel suffocated by that. We don't like being bossed around so when we hear that the Church is frantic to get us... well... you see how that's going. What are we interested in? Authenticity. People and groups who don't try so hard to impress us. Millennials' current viewpoint of the Church is that it's a place that is trying desperately to get their attention. The way to get Millennials in the door is in fact, to stop trying so hard to get them in the door. And for Christ's sake (literally), stop talking about trying so hard to get them in the door. Church, do you get what I'm saying here?
So the Millenials didn't ask you to prom. It happens. I'm not going to be the friend who hands you a Twinkie and a Dr. Pepper and tells you "you're better off without him." You aren't. And the Millenials aren't better off either. We need each other. We're better together.
So, now what should you do about it? Put a washcloth on your eyes and stop calling them. Let them come to you. They know where you are. Stop stressing out over where they are. Just be you. Be the Church. The Church doesn't have to be pushy and clingy and desperate for this generation to like it. Ironically, here's the trick to getting Millenials to like you: don't worry so much about whether or not they like you. They know you exist. Yes, part of our identity as the Church is to evangelize. We have Good News and we need to share it. The thing is though, that sharing it with Millennials doesn't mean calling them in tears every fifteen minutes wondering if they want to reconsider the break up yet. Sharing the Good News with Millennials requires actions speaking loudly. It requires invitations that aren't desperate sounding. Invitations that are genuine and sincere. Millennials aren't interested in the Church the media portrays - you know that Church - the one hyperconcerned with empty pews. Millennials aren't interested in a Church that talks about evangelizing to Millennials. They are interested in a Church that is busy evangelizing. Now, go do your thing. Evangelize. Feed the hungry. Visit the sick and lonely and imprisoned. Welcome the sinner. Heal the broken. Church, you are beautiful.That is what makes you interesting. You are interesting in your depth. In your mystery. In your strength and peace and confidence. You are beautiful in your Truth. You are beautiful in your hands and feet and the work that they do in the world. These are the things that make you interesting. Focus on those things and the Millennials won't be able to help but start knocking down your doors.
All this is to say: Don't tell me what to do. I do what I want.
So why is the Church bending over backward to get us Millennials in the door? Eeew. Gross. Hello every denomination in America, have you ever heard of playing hard to get? Okay, I'm kidding... a little... but not entirely. Hear me out...
From my viewpoint it seems like getting my generation into the doors is all the American Church wants to talk about lately. "Wah, wah, Millennials aren't going to church. *cry*"
Church! Pull yourself together! So someone doesn't like you! It happens! You are acting like the teenage girl whose boyfriend breaks up with her and she won't stop calling him. Oh honey, that isn't how you win him back. For heaven's sake child, hang up the damn phone. Put a cool washcloth on your eyes so they don't look puffy in the morning. Slather on some makeup and don your most fabulous outfit. Then go to school and be the most beautiful, charming, and interesting person there. That'll have him regretting his decision to ask Tammy to prom instead of you.
Church... do you see what I'm getting at here? You are spending so much time chasing after the Millennials, and trust me, you look desperate. Who wants to hang out with the desperate girl who wont stop calling? No one. That's who. I said something along these lines to a friend recently and her face showed her instant disapproval: she was appalled. She kindly said, "but what about the Great Commission?" Yep. What about it? Have the Millennials not heard of Christ? Is the Church meeting in a secret undisclosed location that only they are not allowed to know about? The Millennials are uninterested because the Church is uninteresting to them.
Yep, I said it. And I'll say it again: the Millennials are uninterested because the Church is uninteresting to them. Do I need to say it in all caps?
Here's the thing Church with a capital letter C: you don't have to chase after this generation of young people. They know you exist. They just aren't that into you. And that's okay. Because someday they will be interested, and you'll still be here. Right here waiting with open arms for the prodigal son generation to return.
So, what to do about this "uninteresting" thing, eh? We can't just leave that big awkward elephant standing here in the room can we? Here's the deal... young people are bored by headlines like "Millennials Leaving the Fold" which is what I saw when I clicked on cnn.com this morning. Strangely enough, Millennials aren't that interested in hearing about Millennials. We feel suffocated by that. We don't like being bossed around so when we hear that the Church is frantic to get us... well... you see how that's going. What are we interested in? Authenticity. People and groups who don't try so hard to impress us. Millennials' current viewpoint of the Church is that it's a place that is trying desperately to get their attention. The way to get Millennials in the door is in fact, to stop trying so hard to get them in the door. And for Christ's sake (literally), stop talking about trying so hard to get them in the door. Church, do you get what I'm saying here?
So the Millenials didn't ask you to prom. It happens. I'm not going to be the friend who hands you a Twinkie and a Dr. Pepper and tells you "you're better off without him." You aren't. And the Millenials aren't better off either. We need each other. We're better together.
So, now what should you do about it? Put a washcloth on your eyes and stop calling them. Let them come to you. They know where you are. Stop stressing out over where they are. Just be you. Be the Church. The Church doesn't have to be pushy and clingy and desperate for this generation to like it. Ironically, here's the trick to getting Millenials to like you: don't worry so much about whether or not they like you. They know you exist. Yes, part of our identity as the Church is to evangelize. We have Good News and we need to share it. The thing is though, that sharing it with Millennials doesn't mean calling them in tears every fifteen minutes wondering if they want to reconsider the break up yet. Sharing the Good News with Millennials requires actions speaking loudly. It requires invitations that aren't desperate sounding. Invitations that are genuine and sincere. Millennials aren't interested in the Church the media portrays - you know that Church - the one hyperconcerned with empty pews. Millennials aren't interested in a Church that talks about evangelizing to Millennials. They are interested in a Church that is busy evangelizing. Now, go do your thing. Evangelize. Feed the hungry. Visit the sick and lonely and imprisoned. Welcome the sinner. Heal the broken. Church, you are beautiful.That is what makes you interesting. You are interesting in your depth. In your mystery. In your strength and peace and confidence. You are beautiful in your Truth. You are beautiful in your hands and feet and the work that they do in the world. These are the things that make you interesting. Focus on those things and the Millennials won't be able to help but start knocking down your doors.
Monday, May 11, 2015
My Open Love Letter to Beth Bojarski
One day recently (so, like, in the last year or so) Kelly asked me to name people who have been largely influential in making me who I am today (obvious choices not included). Now, if you know Kelly at all then you know that this question was not one that merited a casual response. Kelly wasn't looking for an off the top of my head reply. She wanted an in-depth analysis of the most influential people in my life. Who were these people? How did I meet them? What impact did they have upon me? Give specific examples as to how am I living out that influence today. I don't remember if I passed the oral portion of the examination, but I've decided to submit the written part here.
Her question was intriguing. One I've thought about since that day. I thought about sending a letter to my most influential person, but I like the public nature of blogging. Plus, the drug my neurologist has me on makes my fingers go numb (an expected side effect) and thus lengthy letter writing will not be in my portfolio in the near future. It also makes for some interesting Bodypump classes - try doing a million clean and presses with numb hands. It's weird.
So... without further ado... surprise Beth! You are the first person that popped in my mind when Kelly asked me that question. Why? Because you are perhaps the person who I have most purposely looked up to and tried to learn from in my adult life. Surprised? Perhaps. Let me get everyone on the same page...
Beth was one of the first people I met when Chris and I moved to Virginia in 2006. The very first person in fact. She was our next door neighbor and was outside wearing a superman t-shirt and ready to help unpack our u-haul when we pulled up. She met us with a smile and a welcome basket from the seminary and a promise to always have an open door should I need to borrow an egg. Although... now that I type this out that was right around the time she went vegan... so... hmmm... Beth and a bunch of dudes unloaded our trailer for us and then sat down with a cooler of crappy beer and welcomed us to the neighborhood.
Getting a picture of how cool she is already?
Unfortunately for me, I met Beth before I had my "aha moment" in 2009 when I realized I was the "common denominator" in never making friends. *cough* More on that later if any one is interested. Or not. I'll summarize it for you: I had a moment of clarity when I realized I never made friends because I never tried to be anyone's friend. Tricky.
Fortunately for me, Beth is pretty damn cool and kept reaching out to me anyway despite my tendency to stay firmly put in my hobbit hole. So, here is how Beth influenced who I am today:
The first way that Beth impacted who I am today was a very specific occasion. Beth had a weekly gathering at her apartment (see, she knew how to make friends! sheesh) and at one such gathering the conversation turned catty. Beth was not one to normally partake in making fun of other people behind their backs (another thing I tried to pick up from her), but that particular night she said something rude. Who cares what she said? Who even remembered? It was just one comment among many that were said by a bunch of girls. The next day I found an email in my inbox from Beth sent to everyone who had attended. In it she acknowledged that she'd said something she regretted and wished that she could take it back. She apologized to everyone for hosting a party that ended up turning sour. I was 24 at the time so a bunch of girls sitting around and making fun of someone behind their back didn't seem to me like a party turning sour. That's just what a party was, right? {*see note above about how I did not yet know how to make friends at this time*} Beth's email in terms of my needing an apology didn't matter. But it changed my life! It was the first time that someone had reached out in reconciliation in that particular way. I knew that none of us needed Beth to apologize for her comment, she had needed to apologize. A year or so later I was at a party and made the same mistake. Sorry to burst your bubble people but seminary is a fish bowl. Seminarians say mean things when in a fish bowl. I found myself back home after the party and regretting the thing I'd said and the way I'd potentially made other people feel uncomfortable with my having said it (I'd made fun of a classmate). So, I took a page from Beth's book and sent everyone an email. And it was freeing. From then on I've done my best to always reach out in reconciliation when something is eating at me and that has been life changing.
Which leads us to my second point: Beth is one of the most genuine and openly honest people I've ever met. Perhaps the most genuine and openly honest person I've ever met. She is caring and compassionate and willing to share those feelings. But more than that she is willing to share the whole gamut of feelings. She doesn't hold back, but she does so in a way that is holy, in a way that invites others in and allows them to be a part of something holy. She showed me how to speak my mind no matter what the emotion. Being in school and a small group with Beth I saw her interact with a variety of people in a variety of situations and was amazed by her ability to voice her opinions in a way that didn't diminish the opinions of others. She stood firm in what she felt and believed, but didn't try to stomp on someone else's feet in giving voice to her thoughts. I saw her speak openly to friends when she was concerned for their well-being even if it was going to be an uncomfortable conversation. I saw her share her fears, her triumphs, her mundanes of life - and it was all beautiful - and I realized, that sharing one's life, one's whole life with people is in fact truly beautiful. Beth's ability to be so open and honest gave me the desire to live my life in the same way and it is something that since meeting her I have actively pursued. What I've found is that it's freeing and has opened new opportunities in my life for friendship and love. I have found that more often than not that sharing with people results in "me toos!" and closeness and community and friendship. Sure sometimes it's uncomfortable, vulnerability is... well... vullneerrabblee... but it's so worth it. Beth gets credit for teaching me that sharing one's full gamut of emotions allows others to share theirs and opens up new paths for friendship and depth and holiness.
On a lighter note, Beth taught me how to layer! Ha! Literally. With the first cold snap we had in Virginia Beth found me wearing a t-shirt and a coat. I remember very clearly her saying to me, "Can I ask you a question? Have you ever heard of layering?" And I've survived cold weather ever since. Turns out you can be in the snow and not be cold. Huh, who knew?! Perhaps every Texan needs a friend from upstate New York.
So, Kelly, there you have it. Beth Bojarski wins as the non-relative non-teacher non-obvious-choice for most influential person in my life. Hands down. No contest. No one else even comes close. Unfortunately for Beth the winner of this contest receives a none-expense paid trip to Tejas where they can revel in right-wing hysteria, eat large quantities of beef, and throw away unused paper products just to remind the trees who the boss is around here. I jest, of course... I jest... I'm kidding... a joke... right? *sigh*
Her question was intriguing. One I've thought about since that day. I thought about sending a letter to my most influential person, but I like the public nature of blogging. Plus, the drug my neurologist has me on makes my fingers go numb (an expected side effect) and thus lengthy letter writing will not be in my portfolio in the near future. It also makes for some interesting Bodypump classes - try doing a million clean and presses with numb hands. It's weird.
So... without further ado... surprise Beth! You are the first person that popped in my mind when Kelly asked me that question. Why? Because you are perhaps the person who I have most purposely looked up to and tried to learn from in my adult life. Surprised? Perhaps. Let me get everyone on the same page...
Beth was one of the first people I met when Chris and I moved to Virginia in 2006. The very first person in fact. She was our next door neighbor and was outside wearing a superman t-shirt and ready to help unpack our u-haul when we pulled up. She met us with a smile and a welcome basket from the seminary and a promise to always have an open door should I need to borrow an egg. Although... now that I type this out that was right around the time she went vegan... so... hmmm... Beth and a bunch of dudes unloaded our trailer for us and then sat down with a cooler of crappy beer and welcomed us to the neighborhood.
Getting a picture of how cool she is already?
Unfortunately for me, I met Beth before I had my "aha moment" in 2009 when I realized I was the "common denominator" in never making friends. *cough* More on that later if any one is interested. Or not. I'll summarize it for you: I had a moment of clarity when I realized I never made friends because I never tried to be anyone's friend. Tricky.
Fortunately for me, Beth is pretty damn cool and kept reaching out to me anyway despite my tendency to stay firmly put in my hobbit hole. So, here is how Beth influenced who I am today:
The first way that Beth impacted who I am today was a very specific occasion. Beth had a weekly gathering at her apartment (see, she knew how to make friends! sheesh) and at one such gathering the conversation turned catty. Beth was not one to normally partake in making fun of other people behind their backs (another thing I tried to pick up from her), but that particular night she said something rude. Who cares what she said? Who even remembered? It was just one comment among many that were said by a bunch of girls. The next day I found an email in my inbox from Beth sent to everyone who had attended. In it she acknowledged that she'd said something she regretted and wished that she could take it back. She apologized to everyone for hosting a party that ended up turning sour. I was 24 at the time so a bunch of girls sitting around and making fun of someone behind their back didn't seem to me like a party turning sour. That's just what a party was, right? {*see note above about how I did not yet know how to make friends at this time*} Beth's email in terms of my needing an apology didn't matter. But it changed my life! It was the first time that someone had reached out in reconciliation in that particular way. I knew that none of us needed Beth to apologize for her comment, she had needed to apologize. A year or so later I was at a party and made the same mistake. Sorry to burst your bubble people but seminary is a fish bowl. Seminarians say mean things when in a fish bowl. I found myself back home after the party and regretting the thing I'd said and the way I'd potentially made other people feel uncomfortable with my having said it (I'd made fun of a classmate). So, I took a page from Beth's book and sent everyone an email. And it was freeing. From then on I've done my best to always reach out in reconciliation when something is eating at me and that has been life changing.
Which leads us to my second point: Beth is one of the most genuine and openly honest people I've ever met. Perhaps the most genuine and openly honest person I've ever met. She is caring and compassionate and willing to share those feelings. But more than that she is willing to share the whole gamut of feelings. She doesn't hold back, but she does so in a way that is holy, in a way that invites others in and allows them to be a part of something holy. She showed me how to speak my mind no matter what the emotion. Being in school and a small group with Beth I saw her interact with a variety of people in a variety of situations and was amazed by her ability to voice her opinions in a way that didn't diminish the opinions of others. She stood firm in what she felt and believed, but didn't try to stomp on someone else's feet in giving voice to her thoughts. I saw her speak openly to friends when she was concerned for their well-being even if it was going to be an uncomfortable conversation. I saw her share her fears, her triumphs, her mundanes of life - and it was all beautiful - and I realized, that sharing one's life, one's whole life with people is in fact truly beautiful. Beth's ability to be so open and honest gave me the desire to live my life in the same way and it is something that since meeting her I have actively pursued. What I've found is that it's freeing and has opened new opportunities in my life for friendship and love. I have found that more often than not that sharing with people results in "me toos!" and closeness and community and friendship. Sure sometimes it's uncomfortable, vulnerability is... well... vullneerrabblee... but it's so worth it. Beth gets credit for teaching me that sharing one's full gamut of emotions allows others to share theirs and opens up new paths for friendship and depth and holiness.
On a lighter note, Beth taught me how to layer! Ha! Literally. With the first cold snap we had in Virginia Beth found me wearing a t-shirt and a coat. I remember very clearly her saying to me, "Can I ask you a question? Have you ever heard of layering?" And I've survived cold weather ever since. Turns out you can be in the snow and not be cold. Huh, who knew?! Perhaps every Texan needs a friend from upstate New York.
So, Kelly, there you have it. Beth Bojarski wins as the non-relative non-teacher non-obvious-choice for most influential person in my life. Hands down. No contest. No one else even comes close. Unfortunately for Beth the winner of this contest receives a none-expense paid trip to Tejas where they can revel in right-wing hysteria, eat large quantities of beef, and throw away unused paper products just to remind the trees who the boss is around here. I jest, of course... I jest... I'm kidding... a joke... right? *sigh*
Saturday, May 9, 2015
Season 1 Episode 8: A Camping We Will Go
We came home dirty and exhausted and happy from all the fun. Duncan Family Camping Trip #1 can go down in the books as a huge success. Someday we'll take teenagers backpacking on a month long expedition on the Appalachian trail or college aged kids climbing up the face of El Capitan and we'll look back on the days that we had a pack n play in our tent and go, "Wow. That was tough! We were so crazy back then!"
Thursday, May 7, 2015
Just Hanging Around
This morning was like any other morning while we did our usual push to get out of the door and into the car. I was laden down with a nap mat under one arm, bags strewn across the other, and a baby on my hip. I hit the garage door opener with my shoulder, and as it began to rise I tossed all the bags and began to put Nils in his car seat. This is typically when Carolena's door opens and I see her climbing in on her side of the car. Instead, this morning, I heard her scream, "Mooommmyyyyy!!!"
Glancing up I expected to find the girl who cried wolf staring at a bug or perhaps unwilling to pass by a frog. Instead, I saw her hanging like a monkey from the now raised garage door.
I wonder how long she's been thinking about that. Did it only occur to her this morning to grab a hold and ride it? Did she grab on as whim? Or has she been plotting that for some time? Either scenario seems to fit my Carolena.
It was hilarious. And terrifying. And hilarious. And terrifying.
Luckily, she was scared out of her mind and cried enough that a scolding was pretty unnecessary. I told her that garage doors are very dangerous and that (true story) our garage door killed my cat when I was a little girl.
People, this is why I drink.
I wonder if the garage door would hold my weight...
Glancing up I expected to find the girl who cried wolf staring at a bug or perhaps unwilling to pass by a frog. Instead, I saw her hanging like a monkey from the now raised garage door.
I wonder how long she's been thinking about that. Did it only occur to her this morning to grab a hold and ride it? Did she grab on as whim? Or has she been plotting that for some time? Either scenario seems to fit my Carolena.
It was hilarious. And terrifying. And hilarious. And terrifying.
Luckily, she was scared out of her mind and cried enough that a scolding was pretty unnecessary. I told her that garage doors are very dangerous and that (true story) our garage door killed my cat when I was a little girl.
People, this is why I drink.
I wonder if the garage door would hold my weight...
Monday, May 4, 2015
That We All May Be One
The depth and layers of racism in America are not something that I can delve into fully, however, I do want say this: I think that change has to take place in the Church first and foremost. That's Church with a capital C - the universal Church, all denominations. Sure, we can (and should) make adjustments to laws in our country that are biased. We should do a lot of things in government to promote justice for all. But, in my humble opinion, the segregation we maintain in the Church is embarrassingly out of date. If Christians want to see a difference in the way people relate with one another, we need to be that change.
Sunday morning is said to be the most segregated hour in America. This isn't true of course, look around your neighborhood. Look around your grocery store. Look around your children's school. I'm guessing that for the most part, whatever your skin color is - that's what is around you too. Let's face it America, when it comes to black and white, we're still segregated. And most of us are sickened by that fact.
I find that to be suffocating. I feel like there are so many of us who are not racist. Who watch the news and hear the things people say (even the casual off-hand things those people we grew up with say in front of us - ugh!) and it's sickening. Yet, I don't know what I can do. What can we do? Sure, I can be nice to everyone I encounter regardless of their skin, regardless of mine. But then what? Lots of people do that. Racism is still a huge problem in America.
I believe that change has to start in the Church. All of us, all of us Christians need to look around us on Sunday mornings and decide that segregating ourselves is no longer okay. Sure, we all grew up with different worship styles, music preferences, liturgies. Yep, I get that. So, for now, I'm not proposing that everyone ditch their Sunday mornings. But what would it look like if we started gathering together as the Church in common prayer? In common mission? In outreach and fellowship? How awesome would it be if black churches and white churches partnered together to get to know one another as friends. As brothers and sisters. I'm talking one to one here. One black church + one white church. Any denomination. Then the two would meet up however often they want for outreach and fellowship. Working alongside one another they could transform a community with their service. In prayer they would grow together in faith. In sharing a meal together people would grow to know one another as the brothers and sisters in Christ that we all are. Simple: just one to one. In this way the Church would be transformed and transform the world.
Yes, I think racial change has to begin in the Church. Christ's prayer for his Church is plain and straightforward: "that they all may be one." If the Church can't desegregate, what hope is there for racial harmony in anything else?
Let us go forth in peace to love and serve the Lord.
Sunday morning is said to be the most segregated hour in America. This isn't true of course, look around your neighborhood. Look around your grocery store. Look around your children's school. I'm guessing that for the most part, whatever your skin color is - that's what is around you too. Let's face it America, when it comes to black and white, we're still segregated. And most of us are sickened by that fact.
I find that to be suffocating. I feel like there are so many of us who are not racist. Who watch the news and hear the things people say (even the casual off-hand things those people we grew up with say in front of us - ugh!) and it's sickening. Yet, I don't know what I can do. What can we do? Sure, I can be nice to everyone I encounter regardless of their skin, regardless of mine. But then what? Lots of people do that. Racism is still a huge problem in America.
I believe that change has to start in the Church. All of us, all of us Christians need to look around us on Sunday mornings and decide that segregating ourselves is no longer okay. Sure, we all grew up with different worship styles, music preferences, liturgies. Yep, I get that. So, for now, I'm not proposing that everyone ditch their Sunday mornings. But what would it look like if we started gathering together as the Church in common prayer? In common mission? In outreach and fellowship? How awesome would it be if black churches and white churches partnered together to get to know one another as friends. As brothers and sisters. I'm talking one to one here. One black church + one white church. Any denomination. Then the two would meet up however often they want for outreach and fellowship. Working alongside one another they could transform a community with their service. In prayer they would grow together in faith. In sharing a meal together people would grow to know one another as the brothers and sisters in Christ that we all are. Simple: just one to one. In this way the Church would be transformed and transform the world.
Yes, I think racial change has to begin in the Church. Christ's prayer for his Church is plain and straightforward: "that they all may be one." If the Church can't desegregate, what hope is there for racial harmony in anything else?
Let us go forth in peace to love and serve the Lord.
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