Fragile

I am sarcastic and ornery because I am so stinking sensitive. I've had to come up with some coping skills for feeling the world so deeply and in my mind these are better than drinking heavily or throwing myself into complete busyness. 

I've learned how to ration the pain I let in or else I live with an aching heart all the time. The best counter to pain is laughter so I find odd things humorous or make normal things funny. It's my secret to not melting down or weeping through life.

My mom used to ration how much sadness I was allowed. I could only read one Flowers in the Attic book a month so I wouldn't carry the weight of the siblings stuck in the attic through all teen encounters. It took me a couple of days to recover from reading one and I would mope and cry randomly. Not pleasant for anyone.

I'm thinking all of this because I've fallen in love. 

My sweet Ptari-dactyl curls up on my bosom and sleeps. She snuggles and matches my heartbeat and breathing. This has confirmed in my mind that I'm related to Gonzo: nobody knows what I really am but they suspect I'm an alien, my twisted sense of humor and now I'm in love with a chicken.

Who cuddles with a chicken? 

Here's the problem with loving a chicken: everything wants to kill them. She's still just a baby and safe in the house, but pretty soon the smell and size will make us kick them outside.

Then, there is a huge list of predators. We know having lost four chickens a couple of years ago. We're smarter now and will protect them better, but I know chickens do not have long life spans.

Why am I throwing my soul into a relationship I know won't last and will only cause me pain?

I have no idea, except I'm hoping the tedium of cleaning up after her will break me of it. 

That's the funny thing about love. We can commit to loving and tending others, and we know from the outset it will be work. I'm kind of a big supporter of arranged marriages. If you start out with the commitment and move into the emotion, then you don't get your soul crushed. 

Or, as often happens in life, we randomly and unexpectedly grow attached to another being for no particular reason and you are bound outside control or reason. Bound together knowing there will be hurt; gut wrenching hurt and probably a lot of clean up.

I know this is way over investment with a chicken, but I tend to over invest. When I love, it is deeply and completely. I fall in love with people all the time, but I can fool myself into thinking I'll have them around for a while. Heck, I fall in love with trees and I will weep if I see one of my favorites succumb to a storm. 

One of the few Miles Davis songs I like is, "I fall in love too easily." That's me. It makes my life raw and fragile, but it also fills me with joy and connection with life (except for rats-those are nasty). 

So if I am snarky or tease you, it's my little bit of shield that gives my heart some space to disconnect. It's a rich and lovely life, but I know what happens to chickens (like all living creatures) and I need to stop letting her sleep on me while I read. But she's so cute and cuddly, I'll probably just keep loving her. 

Crazy

I love every living creature in my house, but sometimes they make me crazy. 

Here's a fun family activity that encourages group bonding: name each other's most annoying traits.

I might have been feeling a little stressed and exhausted this weekend because the list came easily:

Guinea Pig: Poop. All the time. All over the place.

Frog:   Inability to control his excitement. We tried to introduce fish that were supposed to live happily with him, except he got too happy. He clouded the water in his excitement and killed them all. I thought I'd be safe introducing a zombie statue into his tank, but that got him equally as excited. Now he lives alone singing a love song and it makes us sad.

Chickens: We're in the honeymoon period so they are completely adorable and have no annoying traits.

Cassie: She is a golden doodle and princess and slightly neurotic. She barks at the ravens who mimic the chihuahuas who live behind us. It's a cacophony of annoyance not to be missed.

Elijah: Legos. They are everywhere. I threaten to sweep them up and I'm sure I have, but I know what will happen. Someday he will want to pay off his student loans from his philosophy and theater major and will come up with the brilliant idea to sell off all his Lego sets, except they all will be missing one piece. And I will know where all those one pieces are.

Sophie: Towels. Wet towels. In the middle of the floor. All floors. All rooms. At least she likes to bathe.

Hannah: Rubber bands. It's not enough to shell out $7000 for braces, you also have to live with tiny rubber bands on all open floor space not covered with towels or Legos.

Kirt: Gum. If I could live in Singapore where chewing gum is a $3000 fine, I think I would. I hate with a burning hate the sound of chomping gum. Seriously, if you are going to chew gum, then keep your mouth closed or just suck the flavor out and then spit it into a trash receptacle. 

Me: Empty glasses, dental floss, and earplugs. How do people live with me? I carry a glass of water or cup of coffee around until I get distracted and then leave it. I make myself crazy. I won't even give any details about the dental floss and earplugs because I'm disgusted and they're mine.

Hannah clued me into a great insight about annoyances. 

She used to come home from sleepovers and get very irritated with her siblings and I would tell her to take a nap. Her reply was, "Why do I have to take a nap, when they are the ones being annoying?" I would remind her that they are the same people we know and love all the time but you're too tired to be gracious.

Sometimes I need a nap.

I need to remember the power of naps because sometimes I burn my candle at both ends with a blowtorch in the middle. 

Sometimes I just need to rest and remember how much I adore all those who surround me. Exhaustion and stress are not fertile places for grace and love. 

It doesn't mean I will stop yelling about Legos, towels, or rubber bands. It doesn't mean I will stop putting in my earplugs when someone is chewing gum and leave them in some random place. But it does mean I'll keep all that stuff in perspective. Annoyances are such a small part of our relationships, don't give them more power than they should have. 

Because I know once a relationship breaks down, all you're left with is the resentment and irritation. Then, everything makes you crazy and not even a nap will fix that.

Wonder Woman

The closest Kirt and I ever came to breaking up was playing football together at a church event when we were dating. He wouldn't throw the ball to me because I was a girl and might drop it. I got so mad, I stormed out and swore I'd never talk to him again.

Yay. We figured it out.

I hang out with men a lot in my life. And here's what keeps me sane: I think about my relationships with men kind of like interfaith dialogues. We recognize we come to the table with a wide range of perspectives and prejudices about the nature of the world and our role in it, so we give each other grace and space. We learn to listen, ask good questions, show respect and state clearly what we expect and need from the other.

In other words, men are weird so nothing can be assumed. I think I have some great friendships with guys and I'm thankful for them.

Where I struggle is with women. I have some amazing female friends and I'm incredibly thankful for them, but I find that these relationships take more awareness and work.

Relations between women are kind of like conversations between churches. There can be a weird undercurrent of distrust, tension, and competition. We are sometimes similar enough that the differences become more of a point of conflict and contest.

I don't know. I just know sometimes I feel an unease with women that I don't know how to dissipate.

A couple observations based on our recent stretch of sunny weather and Wonder Woman:

WEATHER: Whenever the weather is sunny in Juneau, I hear folks say things like, "We're going to use up all our pretty days and it will rain all summer." Now, I'm not an expert on weather and please don't ever try to explain it to me, but I'm pretty sure there is no weather god in charge of the nice day quota for Alaska. I'm almost positive there is no spreadsheet somewhere balancing how well we've behaved and how many nice days we deserve.

It does feel like there is a limit sometimes and it's hard not to feed into the sense of scarcity, but I know that's not how the world works.

I think the same thing can happen between women. We begin to think there are only so many slots available for woman of the year so if you succeed then that diminishes my chances. There's only so much awesomeness available for women so I need to belittle and critique the women around me so folks realize how fabulous I am. 

It's insane, but we fall into the trap time and again. 

I think I'm fabulous and a failure. It's my good Lutheran mix. When I do something well, I say out loud to myself, "Good job Tari." Hannah pointed out to me this is not normal. I told her it's my way of staying healthy. I'm trying hard not to look for praise and value from outside myself so when I do something well I acknowledge it and move on. I am also often willing to say out loud when I have a bad idea or mess something up. It's okay not to be fantastic at everything.

It keeps my competitive spirit in check.

I also try to remind the women around me how beautiful and strong they are. I'm amazed at what women do and I don't find it threatening to tell them how fabulous they are.

WONDER WOMAN: This brings me to Wonder Woman. We are having so much fun watching old episodes. (I am going to point out one fascinating observation about gender. Fred Meyers offers adult male superhero Underoos, but any Wonder Woman outfit looks like I should be standing on a street corner. Sometimes I just want Underoos for when I spin around in the living room with the kids.) 

My favorite Wonder Woman episodes are the oldest ones when she fights other women. In the midst of those fights, Wonder Woman always encourages the other women to stop fighting her. She reminds them they are not enemies and should not be used as tools for oppressing each other. 

That was an important message for the 70s as women started to emerge in non-traditional jobs and relations were not always friendly, but it continues to resonate today.

What makes Wonder Woman absolutely fabulous, besides the tiara, is not that she can do everything all on her own, but the phenomenal grace and space she gives the men and women around her. She is truly a character who is beautiful on the inside and out.

I still don't always know how to navigate my relationships with women or men, but I'm hearing that whole idea about grace and space. When I start to feel the unease, remember to listen, ask questions, speak clearly, and remind others what is lovely in them.

It Won't Hurt You

It is officially summer. The badminton net is up at our house and we're supposed to have a week of sunshine. I even bought popsicles  in case this is the only week of sunshine all summer.

I love badminton. Elijah and I had a rip roaring time playing tonight and it brought back lovely memories of competing in college. 

Badminton is the only sport I played in college. Charlene and I competed in the intramural league, which was more serious than any sporting event I participated in since basketball in the seventh grade. 

Basketball kind of scarred me. I didn't mean to cry when I got fouled out. I thought the goal was to get the ball away. I'm sorry flesh got in the way. Basketball is a ridiculous sport with all that running back and forth anyway.

Badminton is full of grace and speed. It is actually a fast and intense game when played properly. At one point, Charlene jumped out of the way of the shuttlecock (the official name, not my adolescent humor) and I chided her. 

My words, "It's just a birdie; it won't hurt you."

I should know better than promise something won't hurt. Sure enough next one whipped her in the eye and we were out. I don't remember if it turned black, but for the sake of a good story let's say it did.

I loved Charlene too. She is one of the sweetest people I've ever known. We went to an environmental protest together and my favorite will always be when she started chanting, "Clear cutting not clear conscience."

Still makes me laugh.

I've learned my lesson. I try not to promise pain free experiences to my kids or the church. It's hard not to use, "It won't hurt you" as encouragement to get someone to try something new. 

I don't know if you've ever tried to get someone to volunteer for an experience that will be uncomfortable, inconvenient and possibly even painful. It sells a lot better if you promise it's easy and fun. But there's a chance the person might blacken your eye after it.

So I try not to lie. I try to admit when I ask something of the folks around me that it will be challenging and possibly painful. My favorite response is from one of the women I asked to mentor a teenager, "I'm really scared, but I will try."

I'm not a huge fan of the sea star (the official name for starfish) story where the person walks the beach throwing the sea stars in and when they are teased that it doesn't make any difference, they reply, "it matters to that one." Now that we live somewhere with a twenty foot tide change, we know that it is often best to keep your hands off the wildlife and let the tides do the work. 

I don't know why I thought of that other than Sophie took a picture at beach day today of a sea anemone eating a sea star. That's kind of disturbing because sea stars don't appear edible especially by a glob of what looks like red slime. 

But alas. Just another indicator that "it won't hurt you" is not a good mantra for life. I push "it scares me, but I'll try" as a more faithful approach to life and ministry.

Ecstasy

I don't normally write two blogs in one week and it's not an especially quiet week, but this one bubbled up and I know myself enough to know I better say it because I probably need to hear it.

My confession:
I come closer to ecstasy through sex, poetry, and hikes (and gingersnaps dipped in coffee, sunsets on the beach, but not sex on the beach because that is just a nasty mess) than I do reading scripture or prayer. Worship is close at times, but not quite there. 

I feel somewhat guilty saying this as a pastor. I'm not really a spiritual climax kind of gal. The only way I make it through reading the Bible is to read Billy Collins' poetry at the same time. It's taken me forever to finish the book of Jeremiah and I've finished two poetry collections in the meantime.

But I read my Bible and say my prayers nearly every morning because I think life is about more than ecstasy and enjoyment. I ground my life in worship instead of filling my life only with sex, poetry, hikes and gingersnaps (even though I ate three dozen last week) because the very things that bring us joy can imprison us and leave us empty.

This idea has wandered around in my head, but it was Francis Spufford in Unapologetic who put words to it. He writes about the atheist bus in the UK that says, "There's probably no God. Now stop worrying and enjoy your life." Spufford could care less about the denial of God; he'll be the first to admit that belief is not certainty. 

Spufford takes issue with the word "enjoy." He writes, "Enjoyment is great. But enjoyment is one emotion. The only things in the world that are designed to elicit enjoyment and only enjoyment are products, and your life is not a product" (p. 33). 

I do not enjoy reading scripture, but it is where I delve into the tedium of details, the messiness of family trees, the expectations for life then and often now, the bloody battles that leave me confused about God's role, the awkward reminders of my own brokenness, and God's amazing faithfulness through all of it. I pray so I can sit with my own and other's pain, needs, and joys without jealousy or the need to fix. Reading scripture and praying help me know the fullness of my own and other's humanity.

We cheat ourselves and others when we only surround ourselves with things that bring us comfort or entertainment. There are so many emotions we protect our heart from knowing because they are uncomfortable.

One of the greatest gifts we can give ourselves and kids if you have them is the language to name what they are feeling. Nobody gets to judge you for what you feel. Getting the anger, confusion, fear, desire, anticipation, jealousy, and whatever else out on the table helps you regain perspective on yourself and a situation. 

Name 'em and claim 'em. That's my motto with emotions. Rarely do I let a feeling pass without pulling it out into the open and examining it. Sometimes it's shocking to imagine such an emotion comes from me and sometimes it makes me tend myself a little more carefully.

Nobody gets to judge our feelings, but when we pull them out in the open then we can figure out healthy ways to respond to them. Once I can identify a feeling, then I can start making "I need" statements. I'm feeling angry so I need someone else to unload the dishwasher. I'm feeling nervous so I need support and sweetness. I'm feeling frumpy and wrinkly so I need to be told how beautiful I am. 

I need the experiences that bring me great joy, but it's a horrific lie to idolize joy over all the emotions we are capable of feeling.

Control

My daughter is learning to drive.

I know people survive this and she's had a learner's permit for a year so we're coming along, but the passenger seat humbles me. I have to realize all the control issues I learned to control are looming under the surface. (I am laughing at the irony and I'm really not that huge of a control freak-just the stuff I care about). 

I sit in the passenger seat with my hands placed gently on my lap. It's kind of a creepy pose normally saved for funeral homes where one wants to present an impression of calm and respect. 

My goal is not to yell or make any sudden motions. I realize that this child will someday probably wipe my ass and feed me some kind of pureed food so I want to be nice. She's learning well and the depth and speed perception issues are coming along nicely. 

It's just hard to let go of driving. And scary. And there's no emergency brake on my side to fix mistakes.

So I sit with my hands in my lap with that uncomfortable forced calm that's scarier than my craziness. When I'm not mentioning the other cars or mailboxes, I think about all the things I try to control in my life.

It's a bit ridiculous. The one that stuck out the most to me is trying to control strained or broken relationships. I try to take on the ownership and guilt of everything that is wrong. 

It has nothing to do with being a martyr and everything to do with control. If a broken relationship is my fault, then I can fix it. If I can take responsibility for something not working, then I can work harder and make it succeed. 

I want things to work out. I want people to like me. I want intimacy. And it's just hard for me to allow the universe, or God, or others to have the freedom not to want that. 

WALLS

We're taking a group from church to Germany in 2017. We are visiting Berlin and talked some about the wall. 

One fellow in the group was in Berlin right before they constructed the wall. His relatives convinced him not to visit folks in East Berlin or he might never leave. Luckily he listened. 

I didn't take any pictures of the Berlin wall in high school,
but a good shot of our big hair and awesome
jean jackets. 

The last time I was in Berlin, I went through Checkpoint Charlie a year before the wall came down. The East German guards went through my purse, which at that time was the size of Hermoinne's, and filled with McDonald's toys. I used to be so weird. 

I remember lots of gray in East Berlin. It was the beginning of my disillusionment with communism. People do not flourish in gray.

The wall, like most walls, wasn't simply a concrete structure. The wall included mines, dogs, guard towers, and guns. No one could imagine it ever coming down. Relationships seemed severed forever.

Knocking down the wall was outside of anyone's control, but not out of imagination. Many different factors came together to make October 9, 1989 the right moment, but the church was at the heart of them. The church was one of the few places where folks could talk and dream of a different way.

Parishioners were threatened, beaten, their children removed, but on October 9th, they swelled to hundreds of thousands and headed into the streets with candles and prayers.

The BBC article quoted, "Pastor Führer said: "They didn't attack. They had nothing to attack for. East German officials would later say they were ready for anything, except for candles and prayer."

It's hard not to have control, not to
be able to fix the chasms or walls. Community, candles, and prayers seem a bit lame in the face of such great division. But, they brought down the wall and sometimes they are the only tools we have when things are outside our control. 

I wonder what Hannah would say if I brought a candle next time.