ministry musings

I have a large filing cabinet drawer in my living room and 3 large bins in the basement containing artifacts I have actively avoided for 3 years.  Their contents represent some of the most spectacular years of my life but also some of the most painful and heartbreaking years of my adult life.

Over six years ago I interviewed for a Youth Director position at a local church.  

 I never thought I would end up in youth ministry and yet... 

I felt compelled to apply for this position. 

{Such is the way of ministry, I am told}

The church was looking to rebuild a youth program that had deeply suffered from a series of missteps following what many described as “the golden era” of youth ministry. I had a decade of experience with youth and their families across myriad settings, a few years of program development under my belt, and a “contagious enthusiasm.”  

I was offered the job.

The rhythm of youth ministry suited me well.
 I struggle here with wanting to write about the intricacies of my ministry experience, to include the fine details of my journey, but in sifting though all the details, I find them to be fairly inconsequential to the story.

Yesterday* I met with a former student for breakfast and I was reminded of how I felt when I resigned:

I loved my job but hated working for a church.

Yesterday I sat across from a kiddo who, when we first met, might be considered "at-risk."

He was not the easiest student to have as part of the program.

He was not a rule follower,  and he did not always make the right choices.

But we had authentic connection 
- he felt there was room for him to be genuinely known and loved  -
and that has counted for a lot since day one.

Even though I was his church leader.
Even though my choices in life may be considered less risky.
Even though our interests, in general, are not particularly aligned.

Yesterday, I sat across from a young adult who has mellowed with age.

Who, having dealt with some fairly steep consequences for his actions, chose to re-connect with family and community and God in an attempt to move forward. 

Since I resigned, he and I have remained in contact and have talked through a lot of the details of life. He and I have remained in authentic connection.
I am thankful for that continued relationship.
And

I am thankful for the opportunity to bear witness to God's relentless pursuit in our lives.

* I actually started this post weeks ago so it's relationship with real-time is a bit skewed.

retrieving my mojo

Sometimes my mojo goes missing.

It slowly wanders away and then one day, I find it has done gone left the building.

Friday was the day.

I spent the morning catching up on blogs, facebook, email, current events, and some sleep.

I loaded up a Little in the car to run errands and on our way to Target {of all places} 

I start to cry

A maneuver not lost on the 2 year old sitting behind me who keeps saying "Mommy, cry?"

But when I try to pinpoint the origin of those alligator tears, they fall more fiercely:

I feel pressure to be all things at all times 

{mother, wife, friend, domestic goddess, clinician, citizen...}

It seems like most everyone around me has their shit together 

{even though I know full well this is not true}

When I play the "what if..." game, it seems like I would be happier/richer/more stable/content if 

I had made different decisions.

{also not true}

I feel pressure {mostly internal} to try to be someone or something else.

My husband called while I was in the store.

{imagine the absurdity of trying to explain the state of my mojo into a cell phone while searching for light bulbs}

He said, It's a good thing you have dinner plans tonight, Daph.

{So true}

I spent the rest of the afternoon with the Littles and then drove away, with music blaring, to have dinner with a good-for-the-soul friend.  I didn't have to pretend. I didn't have to apologize.  

There was no expectation that my mojo would join us for dinner.  

And we talked - for a long while. 

Saturday I slept and baked and worked and snuggled.

Sunday I baked and cooked.  

All day.

I wrote blog posts in my head.

I chased the kids around the house. 

I snuggled with the boys.

I watched Dexter.

I ate good food.

I found my mojo -

In being all things I wanted to be...

 for me

working mother

Last night while snuggling before bed, our son declared he wanted to "make art all day tomorrow."

Quite a shift from his usual declaration of desire: play video games all day.

And I went to bed thinking:

{What do I want to do all day tomorrow?}

I have a very long list of things-to-do.

{Sound familiar?}

It is impossibly long and somewhat tedious.

Every day presents layers upon layers of competing demands and most days my ability 

to focus and stay present is 

compromised.

So as I went to bed, I felt that familiar ball of anxiety and dread and inadequacy start to form in the pit of my stomach and I thought,

{oh man, tomorrow is going to be a doozy at home with the boys all day - with a long overdrawn to-do list, no guests, 

no planned activities, no play dates, and no agenda but "art all day..."}

My sleep was fitful.

{in the eyes of a toddler}

But this morning I awoke with an almost-8 year old snuggled up against me, requesting "mama rubs" on his back.  His brother was reading to the stuffed animals in his crib, one room over.  

And we had nowhere to be - a first in nearly a year.

In that moment, I decided that what I wanted to "do all day" was to be fully present with my kids.

I wanted to create space for their agendas to develop freely, without competing with mine.

So far, today, I have spent a lot of time sipping coffee and watching the boys play and:

sitting on the floor with them wrestling, {pretend} sleeping, supervising a photo shoot, creating lego lands, and dreaming.

They seem to enjoy the extra attention

and have made fewer demands of me.

{maybe it is the same amount but I don't mind as much}  

All day I have been fighting the internal desire to "do" in order to stay fully present.

Despite the internal hypervigilance, I feel more relaxed and more connected with my boys.

Even though the looming to-do lists remains. 

{ever present. fully}

 

{juicing limes}

{making auntie jo's "flat salad"}

{refreshing}

And here, at the end of the day, I write this post - 

deeply satisfied with the day we've spent together and

deeply satisfied with the choice to venture "off-list."

slumber party. fail.

my mom and my sisters and i tried to have a slumber party.

we had sweet snacks.

we had savory snacks.

we had wine.

we had sparkling water with lemon.

and we had a whole variety of movies from which to choose.

but we left open some space to sit and talk.

and that lead to talking.

like, seriously talking.

and that wasn't easy...for anyone.

it was kind of messy and kind of intense.

and no one is quite resolved.

because the "stuff" the percolates beneath the surface took decades to accumulate;

we are in the infancy of our ability to deal with it

alone

never mind trying to do it

together.

the slumber party we envisioned in our minds was a big fail

but i feel like we heard each other in new ways

and we continue to want to be together.

so next time, we will have the slumber par-tay of our dreams and

leave the talking for another gathering.

{maybe}

today i am thankful

for family

for the times when we feel aligned

for the times when we feel out of sorts

for the ways in which we keep coming back

to be in each others' presence