No Fear in the New Year?

Okay, so it's been 8 months since I posted a blog. Cut me some slack. It's been a crazy stupid busy year. Now, as I approach my final semester of doctoral work (dissertation notwithstanding...) I'm beginning to have a little perspective on both the insanity of the past few years as well as some clarity of thought about the next few.

First, let me say that in reflection, and I am want to reflect this time of year, I would not do much differently. I would still have started Sacred Tapestry. I would still have done a doctorate. I would still have given up sleep, resources, and sacrificed a bit of my health to do all I've done. But, I would do a few things very differently.

I would take more vacations. I would stop working so much. I would spend more time and energy on myself. I would gather up my husband and children and whisk us all away more, just to spend time together, and I would do it more frequently. I would brush my dogs more. I would file papers faster rather than facing piles that make me feel disorganized. I would use my label maker more.

Mostly, I would face my fears straight up. I would let my heart pound and my palms sweat and my stomach churn, and I would just confront the things that scare me most. And I would take things less personally. I would delegate more.

In 20-11, those are my resolutions. I will delegate more, take more time off, take better care of myself and my personal relationships, and face my biggest fears.

So, while I may not have "no fear in the new year" I will nevertheless face up to my fears in the new year. And I hope you will do the same.

Oh, and I'll try to post more blogs. Really. I will. Okay, I'll try.

Blessings for a happy, healthful, and prosperous 20-11.

Teresa

Projects

I'm a big project person. Ask my husband. Ask my children. Ask my friends. I think projects are great ways to vision, set goals, stay active, and accomplish tasks. However, I have always been guilty of over-committing myself.

This past weekend, I got three major projects off my plate. Great, right? One would think! But I have three more major projects already in the works, and I decided over the weekend to add some home improvement projects to the mix.

So, am I a project addict?

I wonder what would happen if I make it a "project" to reduce my project list?

I read something last week (yes, I like to call it my "pleasure/edification reading project") that reminded me that it's okay to have multiple dreams, and it's even okay to multi-task, but it can work against us to have too many projects going at once.

So, my goal for Lent is to set some real limits on projects. I hope that will allow me to spend more time in prayer and service, to spend more time with my family and friends, and to be more focused on the projects I choose to pursue.

The other projects? Oh, I'll still finish most of them. Just not right this minute.

Okay okay okay...

So, a dear friend sort of chastised me (gently) last week for not blogging lately. She reminded me that it isn't a good idea to link from the Sacred Tapestry website to a blog that hasn't been updated since last Advent...2008... Okay, I hear you. I'm sorry. Truth is that it's been such a busy year that the blog hasn't been a priority. Between a 60 hour workweek, a doctorate in progress, and a family, not to mention Board of Ministry work and some side projects, well, you get the idea.



But here is the thing. Like many of you, I have discovered that while I can do a great number of things at once, I don't always do them well. And when I'm this busy, sometimes important things get lost in the mix. Like sleep. Like taking a walk with my husband and holding hands. Like hanging out by the lake with my children and just listening to them talk. Well, I'm taking Advent seriously this year, maybe more seriously than I ever have in the past. I'm asking myself, "What am I doing to prepare the way for Christ in my own life? Am I making clear the path, or is the path so strewn with the litter of the millions of activities in my life that the path is obscured?" I've taken on too much, and while every activity is important and I can justify every late night, every missed lunch with a friend, every gray hair, new wrinkle, and extra pound, (after all who has time to exercise???), the truth is that I know all my busy-ness has cluttered the way to experience God in my life, and I don't like it, and I will change it. I know that Christ focused on relationships and spending time with people we know and love as well as bringing new people into our circle of friends. I know that the man with the most important "agenda" in history made time for those around him. He didn't have many "projects." His ministry was with people, not paper. He made time to pray and rest. I get it. I do.



So, after Christmas, ask me to lunch. Invite me to a dinner party. Take me to a movie. Invite youself over to my house for tea one afternoon. Hold me accountable. I want to make 2010 a time to build relationships. I want to take better care of myself. I want to be a more patient mother, a more loving wife, and most of all, a more focused Christian. I want to make the path to experience God one that is swept clean of distractions.



Yes, I'll still be working on my doctorate. I'll still the the sole pastor and administrator of a toddler-aged church plant. I'll still be the silent auction chair of my son's shool gala. (I know...why didn't you say something sooner before I commited???) But I'll blog more and have more leisurely conversations with friends and family. I'll spend more time meditating and praying. I'll walk my dogs longer and exercise more.



It's a new year. It's Advent. Change is in the air! Join me! Make clear your own path and invite God in. And invite me for coffee sometime. I'll come.



Blessings for a holy and joyous Christmas, and a calm, focused, and compassionate life in 2010.



Teresa

Joy

This week in Advent the focus is on joy. But, joy is sort of a mixed bag, at least for me. For instance, last night I took my 13-year-old son to his 8th grade dance. I didn't dare go inside when I dropped him off, but when I returned to pick him up, the teacher insisted that all the other parents were inside in the back watching, and that I should go in. So, I did. And there he was, having a great time with his friends. I smiled as I talked with the other parents, and then my mind was suddenly transported back through time to Richland Country Club in Nashville Tennessee, where I was dancing with my 3-year-old son and my 7-year-old daughter to KC and the Sunshine Band. I looked down at my children, their eyes wide and smiles huge, as we joined hands and danced Greek-style in a circle with the other guests. And then it was 3 years later, and as a single mother I put on a CD in our small townhouse in Greenville SC and we danced before dinner. Then just as suddenly, I was jolted back into the present when I saw my now almost grown son gesture that I should meet him outside to leave. (Can't be seen walking out of a dance with your mother!)

I felt joy dancing at the country club with my small angels. I felt joy being silly in the kitchen in Greenville with my young children. I felt joy as I watched my handsome, gentle, teenage son with his friends. And I fought back tears as I realized that with each joy comes a passing of time that can't be stopped. No matter how much I want to freeze those moments of joy in time, I cannot.

I remind myself that living in true joy is not living in the past. Joy is not just in memory, although many of our memories bring remembrances of joyful times. Nor is living in true joy simply hoping for joy in the future. Living in true joy, the way God intends for us to live, is to find joy in the moment, whatever the moment brings us, even if that moment brings the understanding that things are changing, and people are growing, perhaps in the direction of independence from us. And so last night, even as I watched my son take yet another step toward adulthood and independence, I felt joy - joy for him that he is who he is - joy for me that I am able to see him, and my beautiful daughter, grow and mature - and joy at the honor of sharing their journeys. Being their mom is my greatest joy.

Blessings,
Teresa

Thoughts on Advent

We are now approaching the second Sunday in Advent, with an emphasis this week on peace. I sometimes think it's very difficult to find peace in a world filled with chaos. On Black Friday, a temp worker was crushed to death at a Walmart in suburban New York. Innocent people were murdered by terrorists in Mumbai. A man in Atlanta was arrested after beating his dog in a public park with a sledge hammer. Many of my parishoners are struggling with employment issues, financial upheaval, and a tumultuous economy. Peace? Hardly. How do we find peace at Christmastime, or, the better question I believe, how can we be peacemakers in a time where little peace can be found?

I recently took a vow of non-violence in my thoughts, actions, and words. I have to admit, I'm not a very violent person to begin with, at least in my actions. But since taking that vow, I find that I say, do, and think little things that are violent, or at the very least, not peaceful. If the driver in front of me cuts me off, or is driving erratically or slowly, I find myself getting agitated and thinking things that aren't peaceful or kind! The other night, as I sat at my desk at work, one of our dogs started sniffing and circling and acting as if he might do something forbidden in the floor, which he's done twice this week already, and I said “Buck, don't you dare! I'll kill you!” My son, Andrew, looked up from his homework and said gently, “Mom...no you won't.” And I realized that even in that (sort of) joke, I had broken my vow of non-violence in my words. I could have made another choice. I could have chosen to realize that maybe I hadn't paid as much attention to Buck as I should have and that maybe he had been trying to tell me for a while that he needed to go out. I could have reacted with compassion rather than irritation. I could have stopped to think that a ten and a half year old Golden Retriever might need to go out a little more than he used to.

We each have a choice this Advent season. We can choose to get caught up in the madness of life and holiday, or we can consciously choose to live in peace, in our homes, at our jobs, and in our public lives. I encourage each of you to take a vow of non-violence, and promise you that it will enhance the peace you feel in your hearts and minds, as well as bring peace to the world around you.

Blessings for a peaceful holiday season.
Teresa

Raising Expectations

I've been thinking a lot lately about expectations. Many of us go into the holiday season with high expectations. This year, everything will be perfect. We'll get the perfect tree and put perfect decorations on it. We'll buy perfect gifts and the recipients will show great joy and gratitude. This year, no one will get the flu on Christmas Eve. This year the Advent wreath in the church will have candles that do not burn out in the middle of the service. You know the drill.

I've often been accused of having very high, some might say impossibly high, expectations of myself and of imposing those high standards on others. I guess I can't argue with that. But without expectations, how can we grow? If we don't exercise, we can't get stronger or faster or healthier. If we don't exercise our intellectual muscle, we stagnate and become boring, unable to talk about current issues or integrate increasingly complex ideas. If we don't exercise our spiritual muscle, we run the risk of being like the third servant in the Matthew text about talents, and just maintaining the status quo rather than growing in our faith and service.

But expectations must also be realistic. Just as the master in Matthew assigned each worker with the amount of talents that he felt they could responsibly handle, so must we understand our own limitations, while still striving to push ourselves to be the best we can be, and to use our many and diverse gifts and tools to live faithfully in God's world.

Blessings,
Teresa

Push and Pull

This week is spring break for my children, so I'm with them at the beach. My daughter is a teenager and about to head off to college (in a little over a year) and my son is in middle school. He still likes to play with mom. My daughter, on the other hand, is happier with the teenage best girl friend she brought with her, and I understand that, although I don't have to like it.

As we sat on the beach yesterday, I watched a young mother (at least she looked young to ME, but then my idea of young is changing...) in a full-blown, all out, verbal altercation with her teenage son. They were standing about a foot apart, and both were making full eye contact. I couldn't hear what they were saying (although from all the gesturing and animation I can guess) but the son wasn't backing down at all and the mother was holding her ground as well. There was a good bit of finger pointing on the part of the mother. The son listened, interrupted infrequently (to his credit), and then responded, although it seemed not to be the response the mother desired. I had to smile, but it was a smile through a tear. I was also watching a number of parents with VERY young children. The children would sometimes run into the surf, then back to "home base" for reassurance. Some of them stuck close to mom or dad, and in a few instances at least, the parents seemed desperate for some "adult" time. I even heard one dad begging, with the offer of a huge bribe, if the trio of teen girls in front of us would babysit that evening! I remember those days as if they were yesterday, and I'm living the teen years with my own children now.

It's push pull isn't it? We push, they pull. We pull, they push. Growing up is a series of tug of wars as children seek and find independence, and parents first provide security, then opportunities for maturation. What brought the tear to my eye was the realization that for a long time now, I've been doing most of the pulling, and my oldest has been pushing off hard.

Do I miss the days when I couldn't have an adult conversation that wasn't interrupted with "Mommy! Watch this!" Yes, I do. I was never the parent that couldn't wait until my children were grown and out of the house. I am the parent that dreads that journey to the dorm with a van full of luggage and furniture.

Push and pull. I think it's like that with us and God. God pulls us to God, and yet we, in our quest for independence, push away. Remember how good it felt to be a child and run into the loving arms of a parent? Remember, if you are a parent, how good it felt to have your child look up at you with such love and trust as you gathered them into your arms?

Why do we fight God so hard? I don't know, but I am thankful every day that God keeps pulling us toward the unending and unconditional source of mercy and love.

Teresa