Saying Thank You

     As I finish my almost last semester of my Master of Social Work study’s (MSW), I thanked a professor who in his class had been immensely helpful personally and professionally He being who he is, was very flattered and thanked me for the response. The class about solutions, something I think we all need more of less problems more solutions. But more on that latter. I learned after and subconsciously in my M. Div. work, that it is advisable to say, thank you as soon as you can when you feel completed to do so.

One of my most helpful M.Div. professors and helpful people in my life thus far, last Fall  met at the reunion and I profusely thanked her for her support in believing in me when I could not believe in myself and willing to take a chance and lead me and my classmates on a journey a Pilgrimage to all of us really, a lot of miles away and across an ocean. At least that’s how I perceived it I’m not really sure how she saw it but regardless my perception was that she saw nothing wrong with the depression experience I was undergoing that had landed me in some unfortunate circumstances.

         

   I three years later told her, thank you because it was the first time I was really able to process what she and others had done then I had several others my academic advisor, my fantastic roommate, and my texting buddies who were willing to listen to me and fight. As I told my academic advisor “You being sic on the X really worked! It was the next day and she made a decision within 12 hours!”

            
 I started to tear as I explained where I was in the past year and why I was zonked out at the prior year reunion and she told me so gently ‘I know’ and I told her again and again what that trip meant to me then and what it continues to mean to me.

        

    She hugged me as I started to bawl and snot on her shoulder (thankfully she is always gracefull) and she whispered in my ear “Betty (and my full name) I love you and you are doing wonderful things, don’t forget it’. It was a true moment of the Holy Spirit truly being present for me, and, the first for a good long time.

            Telling this semesters professor “well I’ve learned you had better say thank you when you can and as often as warranted because you never know.” One never knows what impact it might have on the other person you thank, the good Karma of the universe. Thank you at endings comes to my mind as I terminated my internship at a homeless shelter and well I did not say thank you verbally to my clients. I am thankful that they trusted me with their stories, their struggles, the realities they face. Creating that holding space to be as they are. As I enter into the world with almost an M.Div and a big bad MSW,  this is sacred work. My clients thanked me for what I did, and I guess like my professor I believed in them when they could not yet believe in themselves. Reminding them of their own awesomeness, or how I explained my job as a social work intern to them.

Anything Dangerous?

Anything Dangerous?

           

This semester I am entrenched in two New Jersey State facility’s, the only women’s prison in New Jersey, and a state Psychiatric hospital (yes the same one from previous entries). Both of them are very similar and also very different. But both as the same questions, ‘anything dangerous on your person?’

            I know not to bring cigarettes ,knives, plastic bags, anything sharp and so on to both places but something dangerous I think I bring. I bring knowledge, books and compassion to both places. Why are these dangerous you ask? Because knowledge gives you the power to rise above, to see differently, to challenge yourself to be different well remaining true to your core. Compassion brings the danger of knowing yourself as a human and not a number or a patient or a level of privilege.

            Jesus in his time was very dangerous not only because he discussed and sometimes screamed justice for all people. He also was a boundary crosser in a time when crossing boundaries meant all kinds of things. Jesus was also radically dangerous when he met the sick in there infections, ailments, and contagious. When he met the poor on the street and invited them in for a meal. He lived on the edge he was dangerous.

            But are we dangerous today? To we live on the edge and yell out for justice? To meet the sick in the hospitals and on the sidewalk? What about the poor? Do we determine that others will help them and we do not need to do anything? I think that as people of faith we are not dangerous enough, we don’t live on the edge.

            Granted where the edge is, remains different for each person. But learning not to judge as much the poor off the county I work in has made me dangerous, because I see not the poor in them, but the humanness of them.  Forcing me to see a bit through the eyes of Jesus, who did not see the condition but the human in a condition. Not pathology but a person.

            So yes I bring danger with me when I enter into these places.

Don't Sell Yourself Short!

            So about a month ago I started a Mary Kay business. I started to have fun, talk about great products, make some extra money, and just to get out of my own head.  Each week we get points for what we do, 50 points for meeting attendance, 50 points for other things and so on and so forth. Last week it turns out I shorted myself almost 800 points! I was under the impression that a sale was 1 point as in you sold stuff you got one point. But no no no, it is 1 point for each dolor. I sold 800.00 worth of product so I got 800 points plus 300 more! This made me the queen of sales for the week, and that was awesome I wont like. But it was not the take away for me.

            I have been chewing on this idea of selling yourself short a lot. I know that I do it all the time, saying ‘oh I’m not good enough for that job/class/internship/church/ect’ or ‘oh they are to perfect to be friends with me’ or ‘I’m so stupid, all I’ll ever be is stupid’. Now I know this is not true at all, but when you get into a cycle like this it’s hard to get out of it and thus you continue to sell yourself short.

            This led me to Jeremiah 1:4-1:10, or titled the call of Jeremiah. I keep telling myself especially in the last year that God does not call the accomplished, or the best or the heroes, or the people that know what’s going on. God calls the right people for the right call, and then equips them for the right ministry’s, and develops and encourages growth of gifts innate within the person.

            So many of our Biblical hero’s where zeros. They told God, so not me I am not worthy go pick someone else (and then point to someone else). But like God said to Moses, you are worthy in my sight and I appoint Aaron to help you. God 1, Moses 0. So who are we as the Beloved Children of God to sell ourselves short?  God will take care of you, me, and us as well as those we have yet to meet.*

*This line inspired by the hymn God Will Take Care of You

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ijytLs96yig

Worship from the Floor

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            In late February my niece turned three and I went home to my parents house where she lives with my sister. Being that I was home I went to my home church on Sunday morning. Stevens has a hall instead of a sanctuary where we set up chairs into rows. Addy my niece feels free to run from us to our neighbors who also got to the same church, and to other friendly faces, then to the toys, and back again. This particular Sunday she was running all over the place having a great time and making everyone smile. She was running between my mom and I, who was on the computer running the PowerPoint. About one minuet into the sermon my niece started yelling for Aunt Betty. To calm her I went and sat on the floor with her. We did the ABC puzzle that is her favorite at church. The pastor preached and I still heard the message, but it was in a new way for me to receive. I like to watch the speaker it helps me stay focused on the person and to remember the message. I don’t remember quite what the message was (sorry Gene!) but I remember the feeling of knowing my niece was beloved in this community and I was too, we where perfectly welcomed in worship and to sit on the floor well doing so.

            But a church I was involved in had terribly uncomfortably pews and the kids would kick them and get yelled at or get the dirty look. I was super uncomfortable growing up in a church where you could move. They quickly sent the kids to Sunday school, chasing them away from worship. So I was led to think how often to we chase ‘kids’ or all of the children of God who are a little different and who want AND need to sit on the floor. Having my passion for disability studies, I think first of those ‘least of these’ who are differently abled. But what about people who have been wounded by the church and are trying to believe again. Do we force them into the ‘pews’ of their past that helped contribute to the pain and woundedness? These are questions I don’t have answers to but I wonder what if we all worshiped from the floor.

How Holy the Conversation

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        I started working at a food pantry at the start of January to fulfill the requirements of my supervised ministry class. I was unsure of it as this is something I have never ever considered as a site for ministry, for me. But I love it already. I do intake interviews, shop with clients as we are a client choice pantry(items are out on shelves and clients get to chose the variety of the item. I.e. tomato soup not clam chowder), and find and refer resources to clients. Today I finished the first incarnation of the big bad book of referrals and resources. Its about 2 inches thick of paper, I also got to give my first referrals from it! I would post a picture but I forgot to take one today!

            As someone who often looks to the very ordinary as evidence of the Divine, I was reminded of this again. I had a very holy moment with a client today as we both shared a lot in common, I was able to use my knowable to help steer her to some resources. Then we went shopping; I encouraged her to keep up with her hard work and acknowledged her strength in asking for help. We talked about what could be done with the food items, like beans and rice, blueberry cobbler and so on. As we where checking out she asked how long I had been there and I told her three weeks, She was amazed and asked me what bought me to the pantry. I told her it was my internship for my M.Div and then we had a conversation about faith. I had already felt a kinship with her the moment she walked into the office for the interview but then she affirmed she felt it too.

            It was a warm reminder of just how holy the work I’m doing is. I was struggling a bit to see the connection between food pantry and ministry other then ‘they are hungry feed them, Jesus told us to’. But it is more then that it is the conversations, the affirmation of a persons strengths, the reaffirm that they are the beloved of Gods. Yes that is the ministry of the pantry

Panik Yüklü

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       So I have a confession, I love tattoos. I think they are a beautiful form of artwork that is unique not only to the tattoo artist but also to the person who chose the tattoo to be placed on their body. As they say tattoos are permanent, not coming out completely even with surgery. So when I make the decision to have one placed upon my body it had better have a dam good reason for being there.  My most recent tattoo is “Panik Yüklü” on my left wrist. It means don’t panic in Turkish.  Now the story I tell people about this tattoo is somewhat bland. But the real story is so much more interesting.

            So Turkey has always been a place that I have wanted to go to. I can’t tell you why, but I knew in my soul that I needed to go to Turkey.  It’s been a gut feeling since my freshman year of high school, I HAD TO GO. So when the opportunity presented itself in in-between the summer of my second and third year of seminary I knew it was mine for the taking. When I signed up for the class in December I had no clue what changes where coming my way in-between then and May. Facing many of my demons challenged my ability to go to Turkey. It was unsure if I was going to be able to go.  But with a lot of strength and being a pest to the person who decided, I was able to go.

October 2012

           

I do have terrible anxiety, I’m told its Generalized Anxiety Disorder,(GAD) and Panic Disorder. And I was already anxious about going to Turkey and having to be ‘perfect’ in terms of my moods and not have any epic meltdowns. Because I was a ten-hour plane ride from my therapist, and a 3AM phone call would not have been appreciated. So each day was a challenge to me, but it was so very much worth it. It was an amazing trip. The trip of a lifetime, yes I did get a carpet that I love very much. But on our second to last day in Turkey we where headed into the European side of Istanbul and one of my friends on the trip with us tripped on a turnstile and got very flustered. A transit worker was standing nearby and yelled ‘panik yuklu!’ to us. Unsure of what he said we asked our professor and she translated it as don’t panic.  It took me several weeks to think of the powerful message that this man had said to us.

May 2012 w/Emily and Susan

            I continued to panic nearly everyday for the next three months, but I worked and work very hard to check my anxiety and know my triggers.  But ‘Panik Yüklü’ stuck with me. So I decided to get it as a visual reminder where I would see it a lot.  I when to the tattoo shop when they where having a fundraiser for 11^th Hour Rescue, a rescue group for dogs about to be put down. So I felt good about it all the way around.  This one hurt a little more then my other two that are on my ankles. But it was good pain (ah the curse of tattoos, they only hurt badly for a bit! And you don’t remember that bad hurt). I watched the ink seep into my skin and knew I had made the right choice.

            All of my tattoos have a spiritual meaning to me, my Jesus fish and my red balloon. The red balloon and panic yuklu have the most meaning because the represent triumph for me. Having the courage to tackle my demons, to face them and to not let fear be my basis for life. For me courage is the bedrock for faith. This is why the gospel of Mark is my favorite. When you read the true ending, you don’t know Jesus was resurrected. But the disciples had the courage to trust that they had experienced something, supernatural. However they still had the courage to follow Jesus’ instructions to them. To go into the unknown, to go places that are potentially very dangerous, yucky, and a host of other un-pleasantry’s. This is my type of faith that we don’t know the plan and it requires trust and courage to go forth. Courage requires the ability to not freak out all the time but rather to ‘Panik Yüklü’.

God is a Knitter

Even God is a knitter (in addition to being a potter, an artist, a poet, fire, and lots of other creative pursuits). The Psalmst tells us,

You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb. Thank You for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous-how well I know it. You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion, as I was woven together in the dark of the womb. You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in Your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.”

Psalm 139:13-16

As I wrap gifts for CHRISTmas this year for the first time ever I get to give a ‘grown up’ handmade gift. Not an ornament, not a foot angel but a scarf. Last winter I got the fantastic idea that I was going to learn how to knit. I had done it before so really it was just going to be getting back on the bicycle. How wrong I was, knitting for me was not like getting on a bicycle, or maybe it was as learning how to ride a bike for me was very difficult but more on that another time.  After a tense December for a multitude of reasons I looked upon January as a time of new beginnings, a way to restart to learn something new.

            Again I had no idea just what I was getting myself into. Susan who taught me how to knit and I would sit on Sunday nights and watch ABC’s Once Upon a Time and knit together. Even though she taught me our techniques where different but both still produced knitting. She was a knitter who would rip out messed up stitches and I would just let them be. I’m not really sure why I did not feel the need to rip the stitches out. Granted in my first scarf this led to a HUGE hole. But she also told me that knitting reflects the state of our souls. I think of knitting as an embodied prayer, the clacking of the two sticks together the conversations that go on during group knitting, the bumping of hands that meet when trying to show how to hold the needles just right. That first scarf became a goal scarf for me; it was a sign that I could do something good, after a time of feeling that I was only capable of failure.

            But back to the Christmas scarf, I started this scarf in my room at Drew casting on 30 stitches. Then knitted a few rows in the international terminal at JFK, a few more rows in Antakya Turkey, then some more on the road between Tarus and Nevisher Turkey. More on the Turkey trip some other time. Then I got home and worked on it on and off, trying to work out my frustrations with life in those sticks and fiber. Trying to knit the holes of my own life together. I had thought from the start that I would give this scarf away. But about half way though I wondered how I could give this scarf to anyone with all of these broken feelings that I had fed into it in the process of turning it into a scarf.

            But then I thought of the person I was giving it to. Someone who fully gets the brokenness that I feel, for they have felt it also.  Working to battle the holes and the frustrations, the sadness but likewise the joy that I worked into that scarf. So I give this scarf to this person with all of this, knowing that all of the individual stitches work together to create rows of bumps, that form into inches, that form into the scarf. Knowing that this person and I are knitted together forever in our souls just like this scarf.