Return from Africa

We have been home from Africa almost 3 weeks. It's hard to believe. The journey was amazing. That trip was predominately tracked on the Children of Heaven blog. But, life came at me fast and I've barely had a moment to process the trip. I did manage to put up some of the kids' pics from Zambia on FlickR ... but the Namibia pics still need to be touched and then, there's my own pictures. I really hope the holiday time gives me some slow down time since we're not traveling this year. The big news is that I'll be doing a "gallery opening" with some of the pics on Second Life. It will be a big job... but it's a clear target to get the images up. More on that later.

Right now, just want to stop running: holiday madness; luncheons; lunch dates; presents; overseas packages; my car needing work; Mike's car dying; buying a "new" car; visa card shock... what more could there be. It clouds all that I experienced in Africa... the whirl of western culture clamoring... when kids are waiting for someone to notice... we're dying!

Only By His Sacrifice

This slideshow was put together originally for a women's retreat, but the images were so powerful I wanted to share them. Special thanks goes to Jacques Lilavois who I discovered on the web and who gave me permission to use his beautiful song, By Your Mercy. I'm still learning about Animoto, so I may re-work the kinks. But it's a pretty good start. Hope this touches you as it has touched me working on it.

Why Aren't We Praying?

Here's the topic I think... it's somehow connected with this urgency I felt last week to investigate further the 'praying of the psalms.' And then, within days, Craig came and asked if I would do the sermon on the 29th-30th weekend.

I'm in the collecting stage. I don't have much time... I know so much has been written and said about prayer... Lord... what do you have to say this day... this week?

Praying about praying. That's pretty funny.

Empire - Alternate Future and Now

Just want to thank Orson Scott Card for his book, Empire.

On a whim, I grabbed this title as an audio book from our library. At first, I thought I was going to be doused with a particularly strong right-wing political/cultural point-of-view through his main character, Reuben... only to have that character die about 1/2 way through the book and left his "left-wing" wife to carry on as his widow. OK.... that got my attention. :-)

I wanted to race through the book ... but that's not possible since I can't "race" through a talking book ... anyway, I was pleasantly surprised to discover an Afterword in Card's own voice espousing his views on the polarization of America and how difficult it is to straddle (or dwell between) any of those "camps."

" ... any rational observer has to see that the Left and Right in America are screaming the most vile accusations at each other all the time. We are fully polarized -- if you accept one idea that sounds like it belongs to either the blue or the red, you are assumed -- nay, required -- to espouse the entire rest of the package, even though there is no reason why supporting the war against terrorism should imply you're in favor of banning all abortions and against restricting the availability of firearms; no reason why being in favor of keeping government-imposed limits on the free market should imply you also are in favor of giving legal status to homosexual couples and against building nuclear reactors. These issues are not remotely related, and yet if you hold any of one group's views, you are hated by the other group as if you believed them all; and if you hold most of one group's views, but not all, you are treated as if you were a traitor for deviating even slightly from the party line. " Read more.

These extremes haunt me in my own church and work life where assumptions are made every day about my "political party" (even though I insist on being called an Independent) and my "world view. " Example: One Sunday morning a kind-hearted soul had the temerity to describe a man he met as being a "Liberal" and an "Environmentalist" - as though these were really good examples of how far the man had strayed from the truth ... and apparently, into sin. For heaven's sake!

I am also a librarian... free speech! Free to read! All of that. And yep, I've read all the Harry Potter books, so there! I believe in free will. But I also wouldn't put American Psycho in a library if I could help it and I'm glad our computers are filtered (particularly after a man actually "licked" one of our computers while watching pornography).

I am a strong believer... Jesus Christ is my rock and my anchor. I love to worship and I enjoy contemporary Christian music. I also like jazz.... and even, on occasion, some R&B.

I'm a techie and a blogger and I even have a presence on Second Life.... these are connections and social networks I enjoy building. But these elements of "me" are also experiencing a certain type of tension. After all, who will read what I write? Who is my audience?

As a result, I feel I must constantly modulate my faith, my language, and even my point of view around the extremes of my colleagues at work as well as my faith family. I must prove that I am still "ok" - that I am normal or faithful or whatever phrase gives comfort to my circles of influence.

So, I'll just say it again, I appreciate Orson Scott Card's voice. It's not that I agree with all things Card either... we would definitely separate on our beliefs in the deity of Christ (Card holds fast to the Mormon teachings... )... but I will say, I believe I can give him room there knowing that he would do the same for me.

Pressures of Time

I am maintaining too many blogs! Most of the rest are about topics of interest or for library work, but this is my heart and I am setting my heart aside too often. Ah well, tomorrow great niece, Jaana, comes from Estonia and we will show her all the "stuff" - from DC to NYC to the ocean... it's tourist time.

Tomorrow afternoon we celebrate Lily's first Gotcha Day! Hard to believe she's been here a year. We are opening our doors to neighbors and friends to drop by... it means so much to her, I do hope people will come.

And I'm doing an Emmaus weekend... what was I thinking to work on a team this fall with our Africa mission trip right behind it? Well, Lord, you're the commissioner. I'm trusting in each of these commissions... but keep my mind clear, my heart pure, and my temper in check! :-)

To be Known or Not Known

Just posted a comment on a stranger's blog because she was wondering if she should tell her current boyfriend that she blogs. Most of her readers commented with a "no" ... and then it hit me. As more people know that I blog here - the less free I feel to write what I really think or believe or experience. That's not good! It's a conundrum.

It must go back to the arbitrary cubicles we create in our lives. This part of my life is private, this part is not. This part is full of pain, this part is not. This part holds my current angst... oh Lord, can I write about that? What if ... what if... he reads it or she reads it? The only solution is to go back to total anonymity ... to start over, that is, in order to have total freedom in my writing. Don't name names... re-work situations to keep everyone safe, etc. Crap, crap, crap!

I'm reminded of The Golden Notebook by Doris Lessing. It's been years since I read that book and perhaps, I'd view it differently today (probably need to re-read it) ... but the part I remember was her way of writing about the various aspects of her world in different journals(differentiated by color as I recall) ... I even remember trying it once... buying a variety of journals, thinking I would write categorically about my life. It sounded good in concept and yet I couldn't maintain it. The categories didn't seem so clear once I actually sat down to write.

And yet, there's something of this problem in blogging. This is my inaugural blog and it is still the closest one to a personal journal or journey. It started on the spiritual side, but then got interwoven in our adoption of Lily. When our daughter finally arrived, I wanted to be honest about our transition period, but I was counseled against it (for her safety) and for any resentments or hurts she might experience if she ever read about my rollercoaster feelings.

In the end, my writing dropped dramatically this year because I no longer felt safe in my previous anonymity. It's a paradox: I write to be known and yet I don't want to be known by those who know me (or think they know me). And yet, don't we write to be read? Don't we blog for the same reason?

Remembering Yoki

Tuesday night, May 15, 2007, Yolanda King died. Mike called me with the news Wednesday morning and I was stunned. How could this be? She's younger than me.

Yoki lived in the limelight as well as the shadow of an amazing father. During the 3 years I knew her in graduate school, she tried not to capitalize on her notoriety. She was kind and gentle and thoughtful and above all else, she wanted to be liked for herself, not for her position in the Black society of the early 70's. She wanted a career in the theatre and for this reason, she placed herself in one of the most rigorous acting programs of that time. We were there in the years of Peter Kass and Olympia Dukakis.

I remember our tears in acting class as we tried to find our individual "truths." I remember when it was just Yoki, Bil, Claire, and Roy. Looking back, I can see we were just five very dysfunctional friends trying to "make meaning" by mashing up modern dance, poetry, and theatre. We were pretty darn interesting despite all the craziness. I remember the gospel music. I remember going to Harlem churches with Yoki... a much different experience than going to Harlem alone. I remember going to Atlanta for a summer residency at the King Center and meeting the extended King family of sister, brothers, uncles & aunts. I remember Ebenezer Baptist Church. I remember sunbathing in Coretta Scott King's backyard (what was I thinking?). I remember the house: a museum to Dr. King ... every inch of wall space covered with pictures of him and his family, friends, and political contacts. I remember seeing his Nobel Peace prize.

I remember Yoki's apartment on 8th street. I remember her kitten falling out of the window. I remember her diets. I remember the times we would hang out at Lady Astor's. I remember the rehearsals ... endless rehearals on one of Bil's pieces. I remember the parties. I remember celebrating my baptism. I remember celebrating her birthday. I remember dressing up. I remember her beautiful, sensuous lips. I remember her confusion as she struggled with the demands of her heritage.

I remember Mrs. King coming to our graduation ceremony in Washington Square. Yoki arranged it so my own mother and brother could sit with Mrs. King. It was a high point for my mother ... and for me.... to have my graduation pictures sprinkled with the King family. Mrs. King was one of the most gracious women I have ever met. She taught her daughters to be the same.

I remember the last time I saw Yoki, many years later, when she came to Maryland on a Black History month whirlwind. I met her latest boyfriend and she met my husband. We talked about the old days over dinner. And then, like a throwback, the tires of her rental car were slashed so we had to take them to the airport. Some things never seem to change.

Over the years, I have always received Christmas cards and announcements from Yoki, but of course, I was no longer on her truly personal list and most of the correspondence was done by her staff. All the same, I counted her friend for three intense years of my life.

May God give peace to your soul, Yoki, old friend.

Meditations and Other Disciplines

As a gift to my church, I have created another blog: Meditations from Zion... this blog, for now, is a daily scripture, as selected by our pastor for contemplation during Lent. After Lent is over, I hope the blog will become a place for people to "echo" the sermons or share a story about connecting/reflecting God in their lives.

I've continued my daily prayer fairly consistently and more importantly, with a heart to do not just as a requirement. I've found my daily commitment to Practicing the Presence to be worthwhile and I've added Examen ... this discipline is important as a review of the day. I had hoped to do it in the evenings, but I can't seem to remember to incorporate a quiet time before I go to bed. I think that's something to move toward. Nonetheless, I am finding the Examen valuable even in the morning as I think about my previous day(s). The two questions that work best for me in this discipline is when did I feel most connected to God and the opposite, when did I feel most disconnected. Because of my nature, I tend to dwell too long on the disconnected moments. Inevitably, they are moments of anger or gossip or times when I want someone to think more highly of me as I tell of how someone else put me down. It's not a happy time to remember. But slowly I am learning to turn these disconnected moments over to God. That is, after all, the point. And conversely, give thanks for the connected time.

Practicing the Presence

I have marked Lent this year. It seemed important to mark it in a particular way. I just couldn't skip along through this season without laying down my heart before God and repenting of a number of wrong turns. Life is, after all, full of new beginnings.

I called my kids into the process as best I could and in the basics, they are "giving up" something... foods mostly, from French Toast to Pasta to Ice Cream... and me, I'm giving up Diet Coke... only those who really know me can appreciate THAT sacrifice... :-)

But they didn't get the "adding part." I thank our old priest/friend Jeff W for that insight ... that Lent is not just about sacrificing something we love but adding something as well: a discipline if you will. And so, I have resolved to re-enter amorning time again with God and to examine some of these disciplines. As good fortune would have it, I found a text that is ideal for my adventure called Spiritual Disciplines Handbook: Practices that Transform Us by Adele Ahlberg Calhoun. Similar to Richard Foster's, Prayer, this book touches on a number of disciplines and gives suggested practices for each one. She encourages the reader to skim through them initially to find the one that touches the heart the most. She covers over 60 disciplines.

At first, I considered investigating journaling further ... but really, once I read through her description and suggested practices, I could say, yes, I know this discipline. She adds, "There is no right way to journal. You don't need to journal every day or even every week. Find the rhythm of journaling that suits your phase and stage of life." Yes. I have been walking this world both on paper and online and her words gave me a type of permission to claim my on again/off again ways as OK... because they are mine. So, I'll never write the Golden Notebook... well, maybe I will... but for now, this is all good for this time of my life.

And so, I moved to another: Practicing the Presence of God... of course, that phrase is modeled after Brother Lawrence's book by the same title. I could never hope to achieve that level of devotion, but I do want to draw my mind and heart more frequently to God's presence. I've co-opted a simple tactic. I bought a little digital watch that chimes on the hour. What a revelation! A hour passes so quickly and the mind is sucked up into the cares of the world in moments. And even more amazing, it's even more difficult to stop each hour for a short prayer when I'm on my "own time" at home than it is at work! Hmmm, oh pride.

Other notes: our pastor has asked us to corporately read an assigned scripture each day. These have added to my examination of the heart. And I've started a Women's Bible Study in my home: Wisdom Seekers. I'm blogging/journaling that as well. Seeking wisdom... seeking God... seeking the deeper walk.

Unsettling Life on Purpose

OK, I confess, I went out for a job interview. Now, that's an experience I haven't had in a long time. That was an interesting, but terribly unsettling process. Just re-doing the old resume sends a billion shivers up my spine: what if? what if? what if? And then, you mention it, sort of in passing to the family ... what will they say? In this case, the kids were pretty supportive... the husband, well, not so much. But of course, moving is supoosedly THE most stressful thing to do for a man... that's what I've heard. So, you put out the resume and take a breath. It's fine. Nothing happens.

Then, a phone call and suddenly, you've scheduled an interview and the what if bumps multiply exponentially. I even found myself internet surfing the real estate market. It's a little shocking. Is the grass really greener over there? I'm not so sure... will I still have a room to myself where I can contemplate ... or maybe just think about contemplating? Will I still have a fantastic triple window that draws me to the wonder of the woods and their seasonal transformations? Will I have custom made storage shelves? Will I have a room for all my craft supplies that I dream of using one day soon.

And then, the interview itself actually happens. It was wonderful really. The stars aligned and I felt like I really had something to give to this new organization. Everything hopeful and helpful came bubbling forth. The job seemed perfect for me... for my personality ... can I see myself walking up these stairs and down this hallway? Can I see myself behind that desk? Can I see myself in a corner office?

To top it all off... I get an offer. Whoa! That's not supposed to happen. I mean, I was looking... I'm always looking, just in case. But I didn't really expect an offer on my first time out of the gate. Now what!

We had a family conference... a really serious one. And in the end, the timing is just not quite right. The offer, not quite enough to disrupt everything and everyone. It was a flurry.... a great, amazing flurry. And I learned so much about myself. I'm not sure what the next event will be. But there are options now that I didn't really believe were there before. As ole' Martha Stewart would say, "that's a good thing."