Where sanctuary is found

Art by Abigail L. Dela Cruz of Abby Draws (used with permission)

I desire sanctuary in my life, spaces where peace pushes out the anxiety that tends to lodge in my heart.  Instead of the press of obligations to prove my worth, I long to feel at home where I am, embracing the reality of my life as it is.

Sanctuary, for me, is often about the holy places outside of church, although I have experienced it there as well.  But more often I have found it in the coziness of a coffee shop with a pot of tea and a fireplace, during a solitary walk through the woods,  or while sitting by moving water.  I find it in my warm bed with a book and time that demands nothing more of me.  I feel it in the process of writing as a spiritual practice of theological reflection and self-understanding.  These moments feel like Sabbath: holy, protected, renewing, transforming rest.

These days I'm looking ahead to our December cruise vacation, knowing from experience that this sort of getaway (without access to phones and the internet or household responsibilities) is the only way to truly entice me to stop and rest.  But on the other hand, I'm trying to embrace my word for this year, wholehearted, and find ways to live gratefully in the moment.

It's difficult, when I wake to the sound of my two children fighting and feel the dread of another day that feels the same as the one before.  My husband and I are getting by these days by alternating "days off" when one of us is free to leave the house alone.  I don't want to just get by, though.  I worry that I'm missing out on the joys of these days when our children are still young and want to be with us.  Even though that want feels like a ball and chain; though it feels like every last ounce of my energy is being drained away as they fight for our attention.

I write and reflect on the sacredness of parenthood and my journey to embrace the messy beauty of it all (as Glennon Melton speaks of the brutiful life that is brutal as it is beautiful).  Yet it is difficult moving this truth from my brain to my heart to my actions.  My kids like to protest that things aren't fair when they don't get what they want.  Perhaps they have learned this from me as I protest even when I get exactly what I have been seeking.

The truth is that this is the life of my dreams.  I am married to my love who supports me and truly makes me better than I could be on my own.  We have two bright, creative, and relatively healthy children.  I have a calling and a job that provides gratification and pushes me towards new growth.  Why is it that my quest for sanctuary pushes me to retreat from all of this?

Maybe it is the introvert within me.  Perhaps it is an ongoing struggle to reconcile my unrealistic expectations with reality.  I think it takes stepping away to get the bigger perspective I need instead of focusing in on all that seems wrong.  I need breathing space to release my frustration and clear the clutter from my mind.  It is only then that I can see things for how they truly are, and that it is good.

In the sanctuary moments I am reminded that all is well enough.

A Day Off

On Monday I took the day off.  It doesn't sound so revolutionary, but it was the second day I've had off in over a month.  I work at a university, and when I tell people this, they usually reply, "Oh, that must be so fun!  And you get the summers off!"  I try not to laugh.  My job is fun, and summers provide more breathing room, but I do work year-round.  There are weddings to officiate, reunions activities to coordinate, and I started a doctoral program this summer as well.  The summer is intended to be my catch-up time for reports, planning, and organization, but by the time the whirlwind of the spring semester ends in early June, I'm practically a zombie and spend a couple of days just staring off into space.  The quiet is as comforting as a warm blanket and I think of all the rest I'll catch up on as soon as I finish the reports and clear off my desk.  In the beginning, the summer seems to stretch endlessly ahead.  I'm not sure how it happens, but I get caught off-guard at the end of July every year.  How have two months passed?  What do I have to show for the time?  I worked full days most every day, and yet not a single item on my to-do list has been completed.  I start to mildly panic but promise myself I'll get on track.  I make charts and lists and set calendar reminders about the tasks that need to be completed.  And I ignore every single one until the middle of August.  August, then, becomes a frenzy of last-minute preparations and anxiety dreams of forgotten exams and standing naked in public.  I start to have feelings of dread and worry that nothing will work like I've planned, that I will be inadequate.

September is non-stop activity and chaos from meeting new students to catching up with old friends.  There are a ton of orientation events that I'm involved in while also restarting my programs and student groups.  The days, evenings, and weekends are full of programs and unexpected crises and before I know it, I can't remember the last time I had a break.  But the exhaustion is incapacitating, and I realize it when I start to lose my filter and my impatience shows in my words and on my face.  It's not a good attitude for a chaplain.  But what can you do when you're faced with unrelenting pastoral needs, an unexpected death, and the expectations continue to mount?  Chaplains are always on call.

I know I'm not indispensable and I'm certainly no superhero.  I need breaks and I need to take care of myself just like I encourage my students to do.  I bemoan the system that is so unnecessarily busy, and yet I fall into its trap every single time.  Some of it is unavoidable, but many times it's of my own choosing.  I like to feel needed.  I want to be accomplishing things.  Busyness becomes a bad habit that makes me feel important.  My identity is often wrapped up in what I do, an unfortunate side effect of being the people-pleasing straight A student in my earlier life.

But I realize that I desire something different.  Not something more, but something less.  I want space between my appointments, time to process and reflect.  I want walks with good friends and savoring meals instead of just using them as gripe sessions.  I long to enjoy time with my family instead of just being stressed about making time for togetherness like it's an inconvenience.  I want Sabbath time to truly be grateful for work that calls me and exhausts me, even as I'm filled yet again with the sacredness and joy of it.  I need to be reminded that it's not about what I do, but who I am.  As I use my gifts to serve God and others and I hope to be a model that we don't have to do it all.  We are valuable, we are accepted, we are loved as we are.  We are enough.

The thing about pushing on without a break is that you start to think that it's never enough.  There's always one more task to accomplish, one more way to better yourself.  Exhaustion becomes a status symbol, until it becomes a liability.  It was only in stepping away that I realized that it's not about me at all.  I cannot control things by my presence, regardless of how I think otherwise.  My absence shows me that the world continues on, and that's actually freedom.  I can take care of myself and that doesn't make me weak, but can be a model of strength and faith for those I serve.  In my work, I talk a lot about finding sanctuary in our busy lives, but I'm realizing that the most important thing is finding it within our selves.  Most times it means stopping what I feel is the "important" work and just doing a little less.

Walking Meditation

When my mind becomes too cluttered and it becomes hard to focus on what is at hand, I find I do my best thinking with my feet.  I have to step out and walk away from it all for a while to come back to myself.  The movement is like a prayer without words, and slowly the jumble of thoughts and the burden of all that is left undone is surrendered and peace fills the space that was where there was pressure.

Along the way, the light shifts.  The sun is going down, but the fogginess that clouded my mind has lifted.  There is light where there was once darkness, and it's the golden light that makes everything glow instead of the harsh and glaring midday sun.  All is quiet, even with the evidence of activity and sound--the fallen trees, the animal tracks.  There is just the sound of my steps and the awareness of the effort of my muscles and legs.  All that was dulled before is now alert and alive.  I feel full, but not in the unpleasant way in which I started.  There is now a sense of possibility and I return, inspired.  

When you've had enough

It's a little ironic that I'm about to do a training for student leaders on finding balance in our busy lives, discerning how to best use our time, and learning when to say "no" to some things so that we can say "yes" to others.  It makes sense that I would share about this--as a chaplain, I'm frequently encouraging others to find spaces of sanctuary for rest and renewal and to care for their entire self; body, mind, and soul.  And yet, I struggle to practice what I preach.  I chose "enough" as my one word for 2014, hoping the reminder that I'm enough would allow me to say "enough" and step back from overcommiting.  But as my phone buzzes to tell me that it's time to leave for the training, my mind feels cluttered and my body is sluggish.

Returning from the training, I feel more hopeful and energized, and I realize that I actually heard myself for once.  As I engaged with these inspiring and busy young women, I warned with them the truth that I have learned: No, you can't have it all, at least not at the same time.  But that's actually a gift.  The past season of my life, full of transitions and unexpected shifts, has taught me the joy in stepping back and doing less (sometimes because I had no choice).  Through this I've observed that when I become more intentional about my choices, my life can be lived more fully through my passions and strengths.  When I'm no longer trying to fit a mold of the perfect wife/mother/career woman, I can be authentically who I am created to be.  To my frustration, that person is flawed and falliable, but to my relief, I still find acceptance and love.  I have learned that lesson the hard way, and told of my struggles today to hopefully save the students the same difficulty, but I'm afraid it's a lesson we all have to fight our way through.  

As I shared with them about calling and my favorite Frederick Buechner quote ("The place to which God calls you is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet"), I realized again my own calling to journey with young women as they seek their vocation.  It is a sacred (and often exhausting) gift of deep gladness.

I'm currently reading Tsh Oxenreider's new book Notes From a Blue Bike as I work to be more intentional in my lifestyle.  Check out this trailer for more information:

Notes From a Blue Bike is written by Tsh Oxenreider, founder and main voice of The Art of Simple. It doesn’t always feel like it, but we DO have the freedom to creatively change the everyday little things in our lives so that our path better aligns with our values and passions. Grab your copy here.

Taking off the masks (#31 days to Sanctuary day 31)

Today is the last day of my 31 day blogging challenge, and I have to say I'm a bit relieved.  As much as I love writing, and as much as I need it as a creative and therapeutic outlet, thinking I HAD to write every day felt a little like being in school and having to write papers.  I've suffered from more writer's block and heard too much from the internal critic who chides that I have nothing important to say.  But I do think the practice has been helpful at keeping me open to inspiration all around me, and pushing me to go beyond my comfort zone.

Today is also Halloween, which is not my favorite holiday.  There's too much arguing with the kids over how much candy they can eat (and too much of me sneaking their candy).  I've never been a fan of dressing up, and it always seems too cold to be walking around in the outfits my kids choose.  But it's nice to see their excitement, to live in the belief that you can magically become someone else (while staying true to yourself on the inside).  Brady has been in Harry Potter mode for months now, since he read a lot of the books this summer.  He enjoys casting spells on us and having dueling battles.  I'm afraid he uses the killing curses on us far too often.

I was talking to a friend the other day who doesn't like dressing up either.  But she said, "You know, we really wear masks much of the time.  What if we were really ourselves on Halloween?  Could we do that for one day?"

It's a scary suggestion, but a worthy one.  I've been exploring authenticity, wholehearted living, and vulnerability through Brené Brown's work for a while now, and I realize that it is the way to find real joy and peace in life.  I'm willing to give it a try...will you join me?

"I'm imperfect and I'm enough"

To explore the entire #31 Days to Sanctuary series, check out all the links here.

Tinker Day (#31 days to Sanctuary day 30)

The university where I work is a pretty magical place.  In addition to providing an excellent liberal arts education for women and offering award-winning graduate programs for men and women, the sidewalks literally shimmer.  No, really, it's from all the glitter.  They joke that you automatically pick up a minor in crafting as you graduate.  Hollins University is also known for the close bonds of sisterhood and for the individual attention that each student receives.

It doesn't hurt that the campus is gorgeous and the faculty, staff, and administration are incredibly caring and involved.  But without a doubt one of the greatest perks is the traditions.  There's First Step (when seniors step onto the quad for the first time), Ring Night (when junior girls are given zany tasks to complete to "earn" their class rings), but the favorite is Tinker Day.  Every person on campus eagerly anticipates Tinker Day.  The date is uncertain, but it occurs sometime after the first frost.  The president chooses a day to declare a surprise holiday from classes.  On Tinker Day, students are awakened by the seniors banging pots and pans through the residence halls at midnight and 6 A.M., and the chapel bells ring at 7 A.M. to summon everyone to the dining hall for doughnuts.  After a sugary breakfast, many don costumes and gather in front of the steps of the Main building, where the president issues her proclamation (also in costume and with a feather duster "scepter").  Then the group heads off to climb nearby Tinker Mountain for skits, songs, and a picnic of fried chicken and Tinker Cake.

It's such a lovely reminder of the importance of silliness, of taking a break, and bonding as a community.  Even on a rainy day like today, there is so much spirit and joy.  We are all celebrating the character that makes us unique, and reveling in the opportunity to be together.

It's too bad that life in the "real world" doesn't offer Tinker Day, but perhaps we could start such traditions in our own lives.  We all need a mental health day for rest and play.  I'm going to go have mine.

Boundaries (#31 days to Sanctuary day 29)

Thinking about sanctuary generally puts me in a peaceful state of mind.  Seeking sanctuary is working towards that elusive balance where my thoughts and actions move toward rest and healing.

I'm not there right now.

In fact, I threatened earlier to drop the "nice Jenny" attitude and turn on my inner meanness to get things done.

Yes, that attitude is still hiding within.  This is me at a BIRTHDAY party.  You wouldn't like me when I'm angry.

 I'm frustrated, tired of feeling stepped on and disregarded, taken advantage of because I usually remain pretty even-tempered and demand little (those living within my household may tell a different story, however).  As a nurturer, I focus on encouraging and caring for others.  But the disadvantage is that it is hard for me to keep others accountable, maintain my boundaries, and speak my truth.  In the past couple of months, I have been reprimanded at work for things that were not my fault, yet I was unwilling to confront the guilty party or throw someone else under the bus.  I have cleaned up for others, picked up others' dropped commitments, and reassured those who did not follow through on what they had promised.  When I finally decided to address a reoccurring conflict, I ended up apologizing and taking the blame on myself, and unsurprisingly, nothing has changed except for my growing resentment.

Rosalind Wiseman, author of Queen Bees and Wannabees, spoke at Hollins last night about how women have been socialized to express their anger in "appropriate" ways.  We either bottle it up, turn it on ourselves, deny it, explode, or apologize for it.  She encourages us all to "speak truth to power", seeing how these social constructs are harmful for all of us.  We can only experience freedom and change when we are willing to speak our truth and own our feelings.

Brene Brown echoed the same message today in an e-course I'm taking, challenging us to "choose discomfort over resentment."  More often than not, I find it easier (not productive or healthy, mind you) to stew in my own resentment than deal with conflict.  As a result, I usually bottle it up until I explode on some unsuspecting person.  It's not pretty, and it's not who I want to be.

In the coming weeks, I will work on my own boundaries, saying "no" when I need to without guilt.  I challenge myself to set reasonable expectations for those I mentor and keep them accountable for reaching them.  I will own my feelings and speak my truth...in love.  I will seek sanctuary, caring for my physical and spiritual needs, and  find peace in articulating what I need and accepting it from a position of worthiness.  Hopefully I won't have to break out the angry face.

How do you manage your own internal and external conflicts?  How will you challenge yourself this week?

Rituals (#31 days to Sanctuary day 28)

We were married 11 years ago on sacred ground.  There was not much there to show the holiness--a scrubby bush, a lamppost, and a patch of summer-scorched grass, but we could feel it.  This was our home and there could be no better place to start a new chapter in our lives together.  We had met while at seminary and had shared classes together and walks across this very quad.  Our first apartment was yards away and we would find our way there on our way back down the aisle.  We were poor students and couldn't afford much more than a couple dozen chairs and the help of our friends, but we didn't want it any other way.  It was perfectly beautiful.  The dean of the school played our guitar processional as we started from separate walkways and met in the middle to finish our walk together.  At our makeshift altar, our preaching professor officiated, and friends shared in scripture and prayers.  Our small group of family and friends joined in singing "Dona Nobis Pacem" (Grant Us Peace), and we felt it, mixed with our nervous excitement.

Recently, our seminary relocated, and the grounds and buildings are being sold to new owners.  I feel a little sad the physical connection to this place will be lost, but the memory is as fresh in my mind as that June 1st evening years ago.  We took a trip back to reminisce and share the story with our kids, marking a ritual that was just the beginning of many happy journeys together.  

Maryn always likes to come between us!

Rest (#31 days to Sanctuary day 27)

Where is day 26, you ask?  Well, we all need a break sometimes.  I'm finding the discipline of daily blogging to be both helpful and tedious, depending on the day.  I don't feel I have enough insights to share something profound each day (or perhaps even each week), although the practice does motivate me to stop and reflect. Sometimes, though, what I need most is a nap.

So on this day, I encourage you to find rest.  Find time to stop your busy mind, your endless to-do list, and the ceaselss motion that keeps you on the go.  Curl up with a book, or curl up and nap.  Take time to breathe deeply and let the noise inside quiet.  Take a walk in the woods and be surrounded by a different kind of noise, silence punctuated by reminders of life.  Stop and listen for that still small voice of God.

1 Kings 19:1-13

Elijah Flees from Jezebel

Ahab told Jezebel all that Elijah had done, and how he had killed all the prophets with the sword. ²Then Jezebel sent a messenger to Elijah, saying, ‘So may the gods do to me, and more also, if I do not make your life like the life of one of them by this time tomorrow.’ ³Then he was afraid; he got up and fled for his life, and came to Beer-sheba, which belongs to Judah; he left his servant there.

4 But he himself went a day’s journey into the wilderness, and came and sat down under a solitary broom tree. He asked that he might die: ‘It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life, for I am no better than my ancestors.’ ⁵Then he lay down under the broom tree and fell asleep. Suddenly an angel touched him and said to him, ‘Get up and eat.’ ⁶He looked, and there at his head was a cake baked on hot stones, and a jar of water. He ate and drank, and lay down again. ⁷The angel of theLord came a second time, touched him, and said, ‘Get up and eat, otherwise the journey will be too much for you.’ ⁸He got up, and ate and drank; then he went in the strength of that food for forty days and forty nights to Horeb the mount of God. ⁹At that place he came to a cave, and spent the night there.

Then the word of the Lord came to him, saying, ‘What are you doing here, Elijah?’ ¹⁰He answered, ‘I have been very zealous for the Lord, the God of hosts; for the Israelites have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away.’

Elijah Meets God at Horeb

11 He said, ‘Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord, for theLord is about to pass by.’ Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; ¹²and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence. ¹³When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. Then there came a voice to him that said, ‘What are you doing here, Elijah?’ 

Enough (#31 days to Sanctuary day 25)

One Who is Not Busy (repost), (#31 days to Sanctuary day 24)

For today, a repost from October 1, 2012; still very relevant (except, unfortunately, no beach trip or weekly yoga): http://hopecalls.blogspot.com/2012/10/one-who-is-not-busy.html



I recently had a conversation with a student in which I confessed that I had not been practicing what I preach.  I feel that my calling as the university chaplain at a small yet bustling and stressed campus is to be a minister of sanctuary, providing the space, opportunities, and reminders for all to find Sabbath to rest, pause, breathe, and to care for their souls.  It is hard to fight against a culture that measures success by how much we get done, and a rite of passage to complain about how busy we are.  As I was preparing for this new school year, I heard the still small voice inside my heart reminding me to stop.  To do less.  To be more.    And yet, in each interview for my position, I was asked what MORE I would be doing, which NEW programs I would add IN ADDITION TO what I was already doing.  And the loud and numerous voices overpowered that still small voice within.

I scheduled an array of programs, one for every day of the week.  I have been visible and have had well-attended programs.  I have reached more students and developed deeper connections.  I have been able to minister and share God's love.  But I have not been able to rest.  I have hopped from one activity to the next until my brain is a jumble and my body is at the point of collapse.  And after several tearful nights of taking home work in order to plan for the next day's events, I've realized that I can't keep going at this pace.  I am exhausted.  And I'm not modelling the rest and peace that I want students to value.

I've made my commitments, though, and I can't see anything that can be surrendered at this point (certainly not my sweet family, who is seeing less and less of me).  But I know my focus and my attitude must be adjusted, and I must find Sabbath in whatever pockets of time I can.  I've been working to shut my door more when I need that boundary to process and plan, and yet, I also appreciate the renewal that visiting with my students can bring.  Sometimes human interaction is strangely just what this introvert needs.  I have been trying to walk weekly with a minister friend, giving us time to catch up.    Lunch dates with my handsome husband are always good for my heart and spirit.  And when I truly need to hide and have some "me" time, sneaking away to the library to catch up on a little reading is always a treat.  Running as often as I can and my weekly yoga class allow me to care for my body and renew my energy.  And I've canceled one event this weekend (with some prodding from my students) so that I can take a much anticipated trip to the beach with my family.

I realized, though, that I can't always control my schedule or its demanding pace.  A minister's job is full of unplanned crises.  So I must learn to somehow find calm in the midst of my busyness.  I've been reading a book entitle One Who is Not Busy: Connecting with work in a deeply satisfying way.  It uses some Buddhist koans and meditation exercises to teach the principle of "simultaneous inclusion" which is the ability to be both "busy" and "not busy" simultaneously, finding focus and flow in our work so that we find pleasure in each task we complete and doing everything with our whole heart.  This is the antithesis of multitasking; instead, it is about applying singular focus to what we need to work on right now.  It involves not classifying tasks into "work", "home", or "pleasure", but engaging all of life in a flow.

Many studies have shown that true contentment comes from living in the moment, not anticipating what is to come, or longingly holding on to the past.  The trouble is that the present is often stressful and messy, especially in a household of two young children.  There are tantrums and lessons to be learned.  There is noise and clutter.  Something always needs to be fixed or explained or taken care of.  But I'm seeing more and more in my children's insistent voices is what they really need is for me to stop and listen.  One exhausting night, my daughter was insistently repeating, "listen to me, listen to me!" over the clamoring of her brother, and when I finally did, she took my face in her hands and just looked into my eyes.  Nothing else needed to be said.

It's a journey for me, but I'm working on embracing the William Morris quote I found while reading Gretchen Rubin's Happier at Home:  
"The true secret of happiness lies in the taking a genuine interest in all the details of daily life." 

I'll start now, with this moment...

Slowing down (#31 days to Sanctuary day 23)

I'm going through a country music phase right now.  I love how the songs are narratives that often connect with our own story.  This morning on the way to work, I heard Rascal Flatts' song, "Mayberry".  Although the chorus is a somewhat cheesy and nostalgic wish to return to the good old days of what seemed to be a simpler life through the TV show of the same name, I thought the verses had meaning.  Sometimes it does seem that the world is shouting, and often we moan that we wish it would slow down.  While we can't slow the world or change the course of the natural (and unnatural) disasters that plague us, we can pause in our own busyness to rest and reflect.  Maybe you'll find your own little bit of Mayberry today.

"Mayberry"

Sometimes it feels like this world is spinning faster
Than it did in the old days
So naturally we have more natural disasters
From the strain of a fast pace

Sunday was the day of rest
Now its one more day for progress
And we can't slow down
Cause more is best
It's all an endless process

Sometimes I can hear this old earth shouting
Through the trees as the wind blows
Thats when I climb up here on this mountain
To look through God's window

Now I can't fly
But I've got two feet
To get me high up here
Above the noise and city streets
My worries disappear

Church Sanctuary (#31 days to Sanctuary day 22)

Last night, I sat with a group of friends who have been part of my ministry journey.  One is a seminary friend who is working outside of the church, and the others (besides myself) are serving in local churches.  We talked about the reasons people give for not attending church these days, along with the reasons why we haven't always been a part of the church (or sometimes wish we weren't).  So many people are busy, and often Sundays are filled with sports, errands, or sleeping in.  There's an entire generation that is becoming more removed and doesn't understand the value of an hour (or more) sitting in pews passively listening to a sermon.  Others have been hurt or excluded by things said and done in the name of God. A lot is said these days about how the church is either dying or being reborn into something new.  There are statistics about fewer people in the pews, and also inspirational stories about how "church" is being done in new ways, outside the walls of a building.  We all have dreams of what it could look like, and hurts from times it hasn't lived up to the ideal.

Something keeps drawing me back, though, time after time.  I may grumble and complain, and I've been known to bad-mouth particular congregations due to bad experiences, but Sunday usually finds me in church.  For me, church has truly been about sanctuary.  My dad died when I was young, and it was the church that gathered around and supported us.  Church people brought casseroles and sat with me during the funeral.  Church men filled that missing male role in my life.  I gained leadership experience through opportunities within my congregation, and it was the church who sent me off to college and sent me notes to let me know I was missed.

Yes, it is broken, as any human institution.  Community is always messy, but the things that involve the most hard work are usually the things that earn our pride.  I've learned about grief and joy standing beside others as we share our concerns and celebrations with God and one another.  I've been reminded that it's not all about me as we work together to help others in our community.  It has been a safe place for my children to find other loving adults, ones who have publicly pledged to help raise them in faith.  When we are worn down by the stresses of parenting, we take advantage of our church's Parents Night Out program and thank God for a break.  When there is good news, there is a place where it will be shared and affirmed.

Church is not the only place in which we find community, but for me, it has been a sanctuary in which I find my place in the larger story of God's work in the world.  I am reminded of my calling to share the good news and to continue the work of restoring a broken creation through love.  Through the inevitable failures and frustrations, I try to rely on grace, understanding that it has been extended to me so many times.  I focus inward as I move outward, always seeking sanctuary wherever the journey takes me.

Home (#31 days of Sanctuary day 21)

They say that you can't go home again, but sometimes you have to.  I spent most of my life trying to work myself out of a hometown that felt too small, too closed-minded to truly be a sanctuary for someone who wanted freedom, who wanted something different.  And now I'm pulled back, caught in the tension between caring for my children and caring for my mom and grandmother.  I'm no hero, and I have a pretty poor sense of responsibility and connection.  If anything, I might be a lousy martyr for complaining about what I have to take care of.  But I know in my heart that it was my original family's love, support, and pride that allowed me to leave the nest and soar.  It's the same love and devotion that calls me back.

The town still feels the same, if not even more desolate as the remaining businesses start to shut down.  There are more "check into cash" quick fix loan shops and stores selling disability equipment.  The only places that seem bustling are the doctors offices and social services vendors that we visit.  My family's gratitude shames me.  I'm doing little more than a quick visit, something that should be commonplace, but sadly is not.  There are just too many walls that have been built between us, too many boundaries to keep me from moving closer.

My grandmother has made us lunch for the first time in forever.  She, once our family cook, gatherer of family meals and holder of traditions, has been too unwell for too long.  But she has made an effort for me and has spread the table.  I don't have time (don't make time) to stay, but she fixes me a plate for the road.  I take a bite on the way back and it tastes like love and the memory of so many times around the table.

I rush back to my now home, just in time for a yoga class.  We are outdoors on a lovely fall day, and the instructor tells us to ground our feet in the earth, to feel at home.  As we plant ourselves on the soil, she says, "Be okay with where you've landed instead of wishing you could be another way."  I think of the truth of that, and wish I had had that wisdom years ago, and am still trying to grasp it as I lean forward, faltering to find my balance.  I'm still caught in the tension of finding my home, one foot grounded in the present, with another toe in the past.

Say "No" to Say "Yes" (#31 days to Sanctuary day 20)

Sometimes having a "don't do" list is just as important as having a "to do" list.  What can you say "no" to so that you can say " yes" to what is truly important?

Beyond the now (#31 days to Sanctuary day 18)

Art by Lori Portka
http://loriportka.com/shop/women-yoga-prints/

For my busy friends....

In the chaos of stress, deadlines, and pressure, the cacophony of noise assaults us.  Everything is too loud, too bright, too busy.  We carry the burden in our shoulders, our backs, the pain wearing us down to weariness.  It all feels too heavy, too much, impossible, insurmountable.

Into that heaviness, if we listen, we can hear the voice of Peace, reminding us to rest for awhile, to breathe, to play.  The sun and the gentle breeze beckon us to sit for a minute and see that life continues all around us.

Our stress is temporary and life is so much bigger than the narrow "now" that we see.

So, in your haste, remember to stop, breathe, drink in the beauty around you, feel the pulse of life around and within you.  Take a moment in gratitude to thank the Holy One that continues to write the pages of our life stories.  Know that beyond the "now" is the forevermore, which calls us into new life.

 "All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well" (Juliana of Norwich).

Being a Sanctuary for my children (or why I won't be sharing as many cute stories on Facebook); #31 Days to Sanctuary day 17

I often get the comment, "I just love reading your Facebook posts!"  I consider myself a bit of a social media guru, using Facebook, Twitter, and my blog to share about ministry events and as my own creative outlet.  Writing for me is a spiritual discipline as it helps me, an introvert, to process and reflect on my experiences and thoughts.  My blog has been like a therapist, helping me to relieve my parenting angst.  When I felt most alone, I was encouraged by my online community that responded, “Me too!”  Facebook serves as my online journal.  As a busy mom, I don't have time to scrapbook, so it becomes a collection of pictures, a log of our family activities, and a repository of cute kid stories and sayings that I can look back on and remember.  The latter is usually the source of people's delight in my Facebook posts.  My children are 5 and 7, and due to their strong-willed and precocious nature, they provide great story material.  

Although I have read blog posts about the dangers of oversharing and have friends that won't even use the real names of their children online, I haven't been concerned.  Something about the removed nature of this form of sharing gives me a false sense of security.  But unfortunately, I have learned a difficult lesson...

Read more at the Ministry and Motherhood blog:  http://ministryandmotherhood.com/2013/10/17/being-a-sanctuary-for-my-children/

How NOT to find sanctuary (#31 days to Sanctuary day 19)

It's somewhat ironic that I write about finding sanctuary as if I'm some sort of expert.  It would be more probable for me to write from the perspective of how NOT to go about it.  I'm a type-A recovering perfectionist with two children who don't cooperate with my OCD tendencies.  I want everything to match the plans and pictures I have in my brain, but reality rarely plays along.  I should be more understanding when my kids can't handle deviations from routines because I'm made of the same stuff.

I think I seek sanctuary because it's so antithetical to my makeup.  I crave it because it's not part of my frantic mind.  I know what it takes to find it (slowing down, caring for my soul, and making space for activities that connect me to God and others), but it goes against what I feel like I SHOULD be doing (people like me really "should" themselves to death).  It's also so counter to what others expect of me.  Just in the last few minutes, I've been interrupted from writing to be notified of when my son's milk expires, to view my daughter's writing of the word "one", and to debate over exactly how many shrimp must be eaten before the promised trip to Dairy Queen.  I know it's really my issue for thinking I could squeeze in a few minutes of "me" time in a day completely devoted to their needs and interests (and yes, my self-indulgent snarkiness is very anti-sanctuary).

These "interruptions" are the source of my greatest frustration, and yet, this is life.  It's  also par for the course in ministry, where interruptions are often true crises that must be dealt with NOW, never mind my to-do list.  I realized today, though, after intermittent bouts of impatience with my kids that I was erroneously thinking that it's all about me.  I was irritated that they wouldn't allow me a moment to think my own thoughts or indulge in my own wants.  I remind my children that life is not all about them and they must take others' needs into consideration, and it hit me that this is also true for me.  Their interruptions are not (always) an attempt to drive me batty, but a way of sharing their needs and a way of drawing me closer to them.

When I structure my day in my head, I'm thinking about what I want.  When that gets altered, I get annoyed.  But what if I changed my perspective?  If I put the phone down, put off the writing until I truly have time for myself, and focus on what's in front of me, I have a much better chance of finding sanctuary.  Living in the "now" and being present in the moment are big components of contentment, and when I'm more content, I'm better able to listen and connect with others.  I may even be more open to listening to a report of what is happening in the sixth Harry Potter book from the boy who likes to update me page...by page...by page.  I can hold my girl close and work on reading word...by word...by word, realizing there will be a time that they won't want to monopolize my time (and I will probably be saddened by that).  And maybe I'll start to realize it's truly not MY time after all.  Sanctuary is about connecting, and that involves reaching out beyond myself.  God commanded God's people to observe Sabbath as a reminder of their connection to God...a relationship that is best acknowledged when we stop doing all the meaningless stuff that zaps our attention and energy.

If admitting you have a problem is the first step, perhaps I'm on the road to sanctuary after all.

Sabbath and sanctuary (#31 days to Sanctuary day 16)

I tend to think of Sabbath and sanctuary interchangeably.  God's command to honor the Sabbath and keep it holy is a reminder that God rested on the seventh day, and we, too, need rest.  So much of our world and culture denies this fact as we work longer hours and can't truly stop even after the work day ends.  There are errands and tasks, and enough electronic stimuli to keep us wired for hours.  It is so very hard to stop, and yet I've learned that if I don't, my body does it for me.

I found a Sabbath Manifesto online that offers suggestions for how to observe a true and healthy break:

• Avoid technology
• connect with loved ones
• nurture your health
• get outside
• avoid commerce
• light candles
• drink wine
• eat bread
• find silence
•  give back

Other suggestions from The Blue Room Blog are:

• Get outside : smell, feel, look at the earth
• Feel alive/passionate about something: Laugh, Cry, Think
• Share with someone: happy or other feelings
• Rest in Quiet: pray & prepare by expanding awareness of others around me
• Find sanctuary in community: sabbath is about more than ourselves
• “Lord prepare me to be a sanctuary”
• Do something creative to elicit/use the brain
• Repetitive family/personal Patterns & pathways change our life
• Use car time to talk/connect with those on the journey with you-put yourself in another’s shoes/
• BE MINDFUL OF YOUR BODY

My Sabbath/Sanctuary list looks a lot like this:

• read a lot
• take naps
• play with the kids
• go for a walk
• write
• exercise
• pedicure
• talk with my husband
• quiet time alone

What would you add to the list?

What you might discover on a prayer walk (#31 days to Sanctuary day 15)

I've written before about how walking is a spiritual discipline to me.  It frees up my mind from all the chaos, to be still.  I find new thoughts coming to me, less frantic and more rational.  In the unhurried motion, I find my equilibrium again.  It's also a way of prayer for me as people and issues come to mind.  As I come across certain markers, I reflect on their spiritual meaning:

an uncertain path

gratitude for the beauty of creation

a sign to stop...before it becomes an emergency

a reminder of death

a symbol of resurrection

a gateway to new possibilities

a mark of changing seasons

an invitation to Sanctuary

What will you discover today?