Monster Outside the Closet Door

Many of my childhood nightmares remain fresh and clear in my mind. A significant one for this time of year deals with tornadoes. I run through my house being chased by a great monster. I hide in the back of my mother's closet, trying to control my gasping breath. The monster in the form of a tornado searches for me. I am by myself. No one is available. I am alone. Although I am hidden behind Mom's closet door, I am able in my dream state to see what is going on outside of the closet. I am hyperventilating as it heads toward their bathroom and thus toward their closets. The monster is going to find me....

Yesterday was the 40th anniversary of the F5 tornado that almost destroyed Lubbock and the beginning of this nightmare of mine. Every year the media inundates Lubbockites with memories of these events from 1970. The town seems to be unable to let these memories go. As much as I groan and roll my eyes during this time, I also hang onto this 40-year-old event.

In May of 1970, I was two-years-old. My family's farms were 40 miles northeast of Lubbock and we had more time to get to safety than most of the Lubbock citizens had. I remember sitting on the blue-striped mattress in my great-grandmother's dark cellar. Lantern light barely touched the surrounding area and didn't quite reach the corners. My brother, David, and I clung to each other on the cot as the adults clustered together discussing the frightening event. Granny, my great-grandmother, wanted to see what was going and kept running up the narrow staircase. Grandpa, her son, would chase after her trying to get her to come back downstairs. Finally Daddy would usher them both back downstairs. A few minutes later the whole scenario would happen again.

As was common for me in times of anxiety, I sat in silence observing all the commotion around me. Except for David, I felt like I was floating alone in the ocean. A great distance of water separated us from the safety of family and grown ups. The tornado in my young mind was a monster that was strong enough to frighten adults and therefore could crush me with its mighty fist. How could I not be terrified?

Until I reached late adolescence, I had many nightmares in addition to the tornado monster and in most of them I was alone and separated from my parents. At some point in my life, I began believing that I couldn't count on anyone other than myself. My rational self realizes that this statement is very unfair to my parents and brothers. I developed this understanding separate from them through my misconceptions. This monster outside my closet door was not solely the tornado, but was in fact my feelings of isolation and abandonment. Like so many monsters, it intimidated me into silence. "Don't tell. THEY will use your fears against you. Don't give anyone power over you. No one can help you."


Sadly these anxieties have recently bubbled to the surface. I hide from the loneliness monster by putting on a brave face. As I consider the road ahead of me, I know that I cannot continue to exist behind this closet door. I struggle with the fear that I will not have the intimacy of a life partner because I remain closed off.

So today I face my fears of being alone. I face the monster that has lived outside my closet door for 40 years and I am still afraid.

Flying Away

Sometimes the responsibilities get to be too much. How can I balance what I feel called to do spiritually when I am so tired AND busy? Recently I have divested myself of some of my responsibilities at church.

I have been struggling with this feeling of too much for quite a while. I was very engrossed in taking care of everyone else and stopped taking care of myself. Finally the realization that I was feeling angry and bitter about my "duties" helped me understand that I wasn't doing anyone any good by keeping these assignments on my plate. In fact I was probably hurting a great many people because I resented my obligations.

My friend, Theresa, put it all into perspective when she was talking about what she and her spouse, Charla, were doing for their church. She said that although they had a lot of pressure on them, they knew that what they were doing was what they were called to do. They were working on their ministry. As she told me this, I realized that what I was so desperately trying to hold onto was not in fact my calling or ministry. I was no longer fed by being Worship Ministry Leader or Coordinator. When I stopped being fed, I was no longer able to feed others.

Part of this awareness is necessary because as I grow in my calling from God, I also grow from my home church. As my school advisor and friend, Julie, explained to me, I am preparing to move away from this home to make a place elsewhere. I am an adolescent preparing to fly out of the nest and I am struggling with my independence and fears of leaving the security of my home.


Some part of me does not want to leave this place that has become my shelter and comfort. MCC Lubbock became my rock when I was floating in the abyss of depression and loneliness. I want to throw myself down on the ground, kicking and screaming as a two-year-old. "NO! NO! NO! I won't leave! I won't! You can't make me!" But another part of me is craving MORE and knows that this "MORE" is found elsewhere. I have to continue preparing myself for the eventual leave-taking that must occur. With the help of my loved ones, my family, I will continue to grow until my wings are strong enough to take me somewhere else. For what has been, for what is, and for what will be, thanks be to God!

Holy Week

Holy Week is such a busy time at MCC Lubbock as it is at many churches. Set up for Maundy Thursday. Set up foot washing stations. Have the service for Maundy Thursday. Clean up from Maundy Thursday. Set up for Good Friday. Have the service for Good Friday. Clean up from Good Friday. Stuff Easter eggs. Prepare Easter breakfast. Get up at 6 am. Have the sunrise service. Clean up from Easter Breakfast. Set up for Easter 11 am service. Have Easter service. Have Easter egg hunt.

Whew! Somewhere in the midst of all the hustle and bustle of this time of year, congregants are expected to find a way to undergo a tiny bit of what Jesus experienced. Sometimes we get lost in all the duties and expectations and don't take the time to feel what all the services are supposed to allow us to feel.

The Seder Meal that we celebrate every other year at MCC Lubbock is of particular significance to me. We break the matzah, the unleavened bread of bondage. Just as the Israelites were in servitude to the Pharaoh, we continued to be bound by ignorance, oppression, and fear. The bitter herbs or maror are eaten to symbolize the bitterness of slavery. We must acknowledge that as long as we prosper off of those who cannot escape poverty we are chained to our society just as the Israelites were chained to Egypt. We eat baitzah, a hard-cooked egg, that represents the cycle of birth and death. For me as a Christian the baitzah reminds me that due to Christ's death and resurrection, I have been given the gift of rebirth. The haroseth, which is made of chopped apples, nuts, and wine, signifies the mortar used with the bricks the Israelites made while enslaved by Pharaoh. The sweetness of the haroseth suggests the taste of freedom that comes to me through God's grace. Karpas, parsley or other greens, are eaten as a reminder of new growth that comes each spring. Finally four cups of wine are drunk at various parts of the meal.

Long ago, Jesus shared a similar meal in a borrowed room with his twelve disciples. He ate this symbolic meal as he prepared to be crucified. He was the lamb that was given as a sacrifice for the sins of all people. He went willingly knowing that his pain was necessary to demonstrate the grace that God offered and continues to offer. AND he knew that these events were not going to be an ending, but a beginning.

This year, will you take the time to remember the sacrifices that God made over two centuries ago? Will you stop in the craziness of eggs and chocolate and special dinners to commemorate the joy that this season represents? Like Mary Magdalene at the tomb, will you cry out to the world, "I have seen the Lord"?

Oppression??

Last June one of my friends and I walked to the bank down the street, which is where EDS banks. We both had reimbursement checks and wanted to cash them. In the bank, the cashier started with my friend, who is a person of color. The cashier talked to her manager who then spoke to my friend about the check. The manager explained that he needed to call the school to be sure everything was okay with the check. My friend started getting upset and expressing her views loudly. To her, the bank personnel was being racist and that was why they were taking so long and giving her problems. To me, I thought that the manager and cashier were doing what was expected of them.

Now jump to today, I have another reimbursement check and go to the same bank. I spent twenty minutes cashing this check. Again a manager needed to call the school to confirm that the check was legal. She and the cashier kept explaining that the bank's policy for certain size checks was to contact the business where it had been written.

I know that sometimes people/businesses are oppressive. I'm saddened that the first thought of my friend was that the people were being racist. Unfortunately my friend has probably experienced a great deal of judgement based solely on the color of her skin or on her gender. To her, she reacted appropriately considering her background.

When I am met with what I think is discrimination, I try to look around me and see how others are being treated. During the first incident one reason I didn't think they were acting racially was because they didn't automatically accept my check while hassling my friend. They didn't suddenly say, "Oh, you two are together. Well, never mind, ma'am, your check is good with us."

I also look to see how others are reacting. Does anyone else look awkward with what is happening? Both times, no other customers were in the bank. However the personnel appeared as uncomfortable as my friend. Both times they explained over and over that this was their policy.

Unfortunately when one has experienced oppression many times, one doesn't expect to be treated in a just manner. People don't necessarily want to decide to be fair to others when they don't experience fairness for themselves. AND I am amazed by the people who can come from a place of oppression and treat others with the respect that they often did not receive.

The chains of oppression will be broken when we don't have to consider if how we are being treated fairly or not. My prayer for the world is that these chains no longer have power of anyone.

Grandma's Birthday

Today is my grandma's birthday ... sort of. Legally Grandma's birthday was January 13 and she was born on January 12. Although she liked to let on that she was aggrevated by this error, I think she really enjoyed being able to tell the story.

Gertrude Lucille Baily was born in a tiny community called Dumont that was about 20 miles from the county seat. When she was born, a horrible snow storm blew in and no one could get to town to file her birth certificate. So on January 13 when someone could get to town, she was officially born.

What I remember best about Grandma was that she was always singing to herself and to us grandkids. And she was not a talented singer. I truly believe she was tone deaf, but she loved singing and music and shared her love with each of us. One of her favorites was "Froggy Went a Courting." This song facinated me because Frog and Miss Mouse were getting together. It also felt so very Grandma with her rural ways. She had an appreciation for times past and tried to share those ideas with me.

Happy Birthday, Grandma! Yes I know that today is the real day.

Matriculation

Today the new students at EDS were matriculated. I went through the same process last June. This formal worship service not only welcomes the new students into the academic family of EDS, but also defines their commitment to study as belonging to God.

The dictionary defines the verb, matriculate, as enrolling in a college or university as a candidate for a degree. Most schools consider students to be matriculated when they start going to school. As many other religious institutions do, EDS has a religious ceremony. The act of matriculation, rooted in traditional universities such as Oxford and Cambridge, is an opportunity to recognize the new students as members of the academic community.

At EDS the students state their "desire to be enrolled ... in the Episcopal Divinity School." The returning students, along with the faculty and staff, renew that they continue to be responsible to the service of God in both ministry and life. The new students then step up and sign the book that contains the signatures of previous new students.

The service was a wonderful opportunity for me to recognize that my studies were important to God as well as to the community. If each of us as we began our work in the world had the opportunity to formally sign a book and pledge our lives to the pursuit of knowledge and justice, would we consider our work to be less of a chore and more of an endeavor? Would we approach our daily lives as adventures? Would we see the skills that we bring to the world are in fact talents blessed by God?

What a difference we could all make in the world if we considered our life works to be a blessing and promise from God!

Reconnection

Recently I've been reconnecting with friends who I haven't seen in many years. Facebook has been an amazing opportunity to find people who I knew from childhood. Sometimes when I send a message or a request to someone, I don't feel very sure of myself. Does this person want to have contact with me? Are we going to relate to each other as well as we did when we were younger? A lot of concerns and fears come when I think about reuniting with old friends.

I also felt this way when I reconnected with God. In a sense God was a friend with whom I had lost contact. I had walked away from God and didn't look back until my emotional life became such a mess that I was desparate. I had pretty much said, "God, you are of no use to me. I'm leaving." As a human I know how I would react to someone treating me that way. "If that's the way you feel, good riddance. I don't need you either."

When I approached God after my planned ignoring, I waited for the disdain and aloofness that would be expected from humans. I tried to sneak into church as a casual observer. First God wasn't going to allow me to sit on the sidelines. And second God didn't react as I expected. I was welcomed much as the prodigal son in the parable. God didn't lay any guilt on me for the way I had behaved or for my absence. I was welcomed with love and understanding.

I had never understood that God wasn't like us humans. God knows that I have faults and need to grow in many areas. Instead of holding it against me, God greets me with a hospitality that I have rarely extended to those who hurt me.

I have begun to realize when I am asked to be like God that this type of hospitality may be what is expected of me. Am I willing to put aside old hurts to see the changes in people or in myself? Do I keep my grudges close to my heart where they can never be healed? Or do I try to offer grace as Jesus did for us?