Loving Life The Way it is Right Now

Friday was the last day I couldn't drive nor walk around the block more than once. Friday marked the difference between laying flat and being able to stand (somewhat) straight for more than three minutes. Friday my pain level went from a 9 to a 6 1/2--the qualitative distance between those levels for my body mirroring the quantitative distance between states like California and New York on a map. When you've got nothing, you get tremendously grateful for something even if that something would have felt pathetic before you lost everything. Back to Friday.

Makes sense that my spiritual director would usher in the period of transition, the transition from immobility to inches-given. We were supposed to have dinner in Oakland but there was no way I could drive up from Palo Alto, so we decided to talk on the phone. She's a magical human being, my spiritual director. Even so, it took me 30 minutes to get honest about the struggle, 30 minutes to admit my despair and absolute bewilderment. At first I hesitated. I didn't want to use the word "unemployment" because she used to be my boss. I didn't want to use the words "lack of faith" because she's also now my pastor. I didn't want to tell her how bad my back pain had been the last 4 days, how only 2 days ago I'd begged my physician for Morphine and when he refused to order the shot and told me to go to the ER (how can a person with level 9 pain drive themselves to the ER?), I'd asked G-d to give me death. I thought she'd be disappointed. She's the kind of person everyone works hard--i mean hard--to avoid disappointing because she's grace-filled, beautiful and dependable. Because she is these things, she asked the questions that coaxed me into honesty. She asked if I'd been writing. I said no. I couldn't write because I was too ashamed.

Then we began talking about the lives of pastors: what they do, not just how they work within the walls of a congregation. She talked about vocation being larger than employment, particularly in the ministry. Pastors are people who bring theological and ecclesiological reflection to all aspects of life, not just the life of a congregation where they are employed. We look at all struggle and victory, all brush-ups with grace and evil with several things in mind: 1) our people 2) our G-d & 3) the intersections between the two. I began talking about how this struggle with getting a job, with getting adequate health care, and dealing with chronic pain have given me a wider circle of compassion. I told her about my new found empathy for people who have to be on disability, people who spend too much time staring up at the ceiling because that's the only option they've got. I told her I would never, ever, in the future forsake the blessing of having a job. I told her I would never forsake another pain free day. She then asked if I would be willing to write during this time as a way of providing testimony, as a way of pastoring from the wilderness.

G-d knows I am not the only one in the wilderness right now. In fact, my wilderness looks like a nicely trimmed vineyard in comparison to some people's struggle these days. I may be moving back home, but at least I've got a financially stable family to welcome me back. I may be without steady employment, but I qualify for federal help that's enabling me to pay my bills. My skin color, education level, class privilege and body ability guarantee me a future within my denomination that, unfairly, many cannot claim. I may be leaving the Bay Area where countless friends and memories hold my heart, but at least I've made those connections and dwelled in that precious space at all. Amidst the struggle I am both grateful for what I have and committed to fighting against those things holding people in greater bondage than I can even comprehend. I will not allow this time of suffering to isolate or silence me. Thanks to Marjorie's suggestion, I will use this time to connect, to express, to fight, to hold on, and yes, to love G-d. Therefore, this blog space will serve as a key portal for these attempts to break open and to reach you.

There’s more…

On Saturday I actually survived the drive to the East Bay. I had the opportunity to write and direct the communion liturgy of Michelle Haris-Gloyer's Ordination service. I love Michelle. Working with her on any liturgical project feels like breathing sacred air: it just flows. We blended the traditional institution of the Lord's Supper with the language of 2 Cor 4. We relished in the patterns and poetic flow of those two texts in conversation. Michelle desired "multiple voices at the table" so we invited 8 servers to participate in the spoken word. The actual delivery wasn't perfect (well, im*h*o) because we only had a few practice runs, but the process of relationally engaging, envisioning, writing and rehearsing reminded me of why I want to do ministry. There's no greater joy(e) than experiencing the burst of novelty at the intersection of tradition and innovation. No greater love than worship. I may not be “in the church” but my heart is in this work, no doubt.

After the service I ran into Christina Hutchins who is pastor, poet, theologian, philosopher and all-around goodness. She's the person who throws out Koan sayings that knock you spiritually senseless one minute and then 20 minutes later comes up with an absolutely irreverent joke that makes you laugh so hard you almost pee. I adore her. Anyway: we hadn't seen each other in a while and she asked me how I was doing. I gave her the 1 minute version of "jobless, in pain and moving home to my mother's house." She looked me deep in the eyes and said "you could practice loving your life the way it is right now." In some ways I think she was taking me to the same core principle that Marjorie ushered me into on Friday night. Her words stayed with me for 3 days, read: they actually meant something.

Ever since I've been wondering about the practice of "loving life the way it is right now." What does it mean to actually do the work of loving something that feels so damn bad? This question, this meditation of sorts, has thrown me "back to the basics." Yes, it's letting the "test become testimony" (as Marjorie would say) and so yes, the loving is about expression and writing. But mostly: it's about paying attention. And I can only pay attention to the present moment because the future is a downhill-rolling-fear-filled-snow-ball phenomenon if there ever was one. I am looking and listening more deeply today than I ever have. And guess what?: the practice is saving me moment to moment.

I'm here to testify: the present moment contains the most G-d you'll ever find. Thank you Marjorie, Michelle, and Christina.

In the coming weeks and months I am going to practice gratitude in this blog space. The practice of gratitude is about intention, about paying particular (intentionally appreciative) attention to the present moment. The practice of gratitude is the practice of “loving life the way it is right now.” And, hey, it’s seasonally appropriate. My hope is that you will continue checking in and that you will share your gratitude (or anything else you want) in this space as well. I am particularly reliant upon this space to hold connections as I transition from the Bay back to Southern Cal. I want to keep loving your lives—just the way they are right now—too. Be in touch, beloved,