Running on Empty

I have had a package on my mail trunk for a few days from PCUSA Theology Worship and Education. From my blog, you can tell I am an active Elder at this point, I teach a Sunday School Class (the best class in the entire world), and have been wrestling with both my faith, my call, and the actions of my denomination

So when I am in doubt, I go back to the beginning. I read my Bible, I try to be still and listen to God's purpose in my life. I joined a group called Order of Elders that I found the PCUSA site. Part of the commitment is to read daily, pray daily for our church, and make an active effort to follow the Lectionary reading. We are also reading Psalms over and over this year. Another part of the commitment is to read as a group and discuss a few books that are sent to us during the year.

I finally got around to opening the package this afternoon. The book for this quarter is called "Running on Empty: Contemplative Spirituality for Overachievers" by Fil Anderson. The book was enclosed with a letter from Rev Stephany Jackson, one of the partners on the staff team.

Just to pull out a few words from his letter. ".. recognize how much more important it is to be the church than it is to do all of the things that need to be done in the church." Plus there were some Jackson Browne lyrics (Do you know this song was a hit in 1978?)

In the mail, I just got the right book at the right time. When I needed a push, it came in a brown package today. When you hear some people talk about how God works in their lives, you hear stories of great action, revelation, and great purpose. I wish I was one of those people who saw the burning bush or heard the voice in the night. I wish I had this loud boisterous faith that seems so steady and all consuming.

But that is not me and mine. It is in the quiet still that I find God, and the subtle pushes and pulls that he places in my life, are as loud to me as anything I can imagine. I am not sure he needs to be loud right now when I feel Him so close.

Band Aid Test

If you have seen me around this week, you know I am sporting a BandAid on the left side of my face. There are a couple more in other places, but the one on my face is the one you can see.

It is amazing how having something on your face can change your entire attitude. When I look at myself in the mirror this week, I have these huge circles under my eyes and this stupid BandAid on my face and a chin full of monster zits. Needless to say, I am feeling great about myself this week. I am so out of sorts with my outside this week, it is creating all kinds of havoc inside.

Wednesday was the beginning of Doctor Fest 2008, and to celebrate, there are now 3 little pieces of me sitting in line at some lab waiting for their turn. Doctor Fest 2008 will run the next couple of weeks and will probably bring a couple more lectures (eat right, exercise, stop smoking, stop stressing, stay out of the sun, stop taking advil like it is candy) . Needless to say, strangeness abounds the next couple of weeks.

You know who you are

You know pieces of me. You know my birthday because you were there. You may remember what I looked like, you may remember your name for me, but you don't know me.

You don't know my sister. You don't know what you missed. (If you found this, maybe you get a glimpse.)

We wonder why, Wendy and I. We wonder for different reasons, but we wonder. We were afraid to look around at Mom's funeral because we thought we might see you there (or someone we thought might have been you). We were afraid to look at our mail, because we thought you might try to contact us.

You know who you are. And we are as protective of each other as Mom was of us.

And all God needs is gravity to hold me down

[Gravity - Allison Krauss]

I have been in a strange place the past couple of days. Honestly, most of yesterday was good. I did what I needed to do at work, the nice guys at PA Smith fixed the monster car, and Angie didn't lie when she said, "The more often you do yardwork, the less it hurts."

But I am driving back from Cary, and I pass Wake Med, and just start to cry. That hospital is the beginning. In my head, Mom was doing okay. She was weak, but okay before we ended up here. This is where we started with Hospice, this is where Mom refused the NG tube, this is where we got the DNR papers, this is where how this was going to end became real. This is where Mom took off the necklace that is around my neck. This is the last time Mom rode in a car with me. This is where everything moves into light speed.

I know, some days, you just put your head down and do whatever needs to be done. When we came back home, it was like Freaky Friday. Mom take your medicine, Mom you can't eat that, Mom you need to do this, Mom you need to do that, Mom take some more medicine.

I became Martha when I wanted to be Mary. I became the parent when I wanted so much to still be the child. I became the me that you see when I really liked the old me.

The circus is falling down on its knees

Counting Crows is providing the soundtrack for tonight's cry.


The big top is crumbling down

I need a rain coat.

I need a big love.

Where you should be, no one's around.

And I get no answers
And I don't get no change
It's raining in Baltimore, baby
But everything else is the same

Theres things I remember and things I forget
I miss you
I guess that I should
Three thousand five hundred miles away
But what would you change if you could?




A long December and there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last
I can't remember the last thing that you said as you were leaven'
Now the days go by so fast

And talked a little while about the year
I guess the winter makes you laugh a little slower,
Makes you talk a little lower about the things you could not show her
And it's been a long December and there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last
I can't remember all the times I tried to tell my myself
To hold on to these moments as they pass

Good Grief Charlie Brown

Before I started the Hospice group, in my mind, it was the end all be all experience that would make everything perfect. I would learn how to deal with whatever made me cry and at the end, I would be over this. I would be one of those people who has made peace with this year and everything that has happened.

But I can't make myself go to this right now. I have missed the last 3 weeks and honestly, am not planning to go to the last 2 meetings. I just can't walk into the building. I just can't sit in the room and say Mom's name. I am not ready for this to be real.

There are things I need to say that I can't. I can't give the horror and fear of these days to anyone else to bear in their heart. So here I will stay for a while. Until I am not afraid and the day to day memories are not so painful. And then I will try again.