Hospitality is More of a Posture than an Industry

I just got back from my grad school intensive last week in Durham, NC. What a trip! People who have done my program often say that Durham is the best out of the four intensives. It was phenomenal. The class we focused on together is called, Hospitality as Leadership, led by a kick ass female head of the Bible department (first in the churches of Christ…Naomi, you’re a bad ass).

If you’ve spent any time in the Bible, particularly the Jesus stuff, you’ll know that hospitality was something Jesus got in trouble for a lot. Not the hospitality industry where everything is fancy and requires payment, but old school hospitality where whores were washing his feet and terrorists were sharing meals with the religious folk (much to their horror). Jesus was the type of guy who broke a lot of rules. He hung out with people he wasn’t supposed to and he shared food with them, which in the Jewish faith was a major no-no. And while I like rule-breaking to a level I never admired when I was younger, I don’t think this was just because Jesus liked to theologically rumble from time to time (though I think he did) but because he really thought people were more important than laws and rules. He made space for people who society had said didn’t deserve space (uh oh, how can you not think of our border crisis now?!?!) I even think that he didn’t welcome those who weren’t “worthy” by society’s standards in spite of their station socially but because of their status. Having lived a life of a “lower” person, perhaps their perspective was important, irreplaceable, needed in the religious world? When everyone has a seat at the table, the conversation changes.

Part of what we do in the program is develop personal rhythms to sustain us in our spiritual practices and studies. It’s not about learning all the things with books but about experimenting and being open to new ideas and ways of life. But reading all the books and writing all the papers along with trying to make space for those we’ve been told don’t matter requires A LOT of self-care. Hence, the rhythms. It includes intentionality around prayer, hospitality, attentiveness, and simplicity. We write them ourselves so it’s really just a way to create something for us (we have a spiritual formation director who supports us in this…shout out to Natalie). And I am being more intentional with my hosting and being hosted within my family.

And so I had this moment with my oldest this morning…this daughter who I keep thinking won’t need me as much now that she’s in middle school. And yet, this kid shouts good-bye to me in front of all the cool kids at the bus stop and wants me there waiting for her (two blocks from our house) every day after school. She is giving me opportunities to host her and to be hosted by her. I’ve heard this in the context of marriage being described as “love bids.” Partners, and all loved ones, give us opportunities all the time to lean in or to lean out of the relationship. And while part of me thinks “can’t she just walk two blocks alone, I already took my bra off?!?!”, what this class is reminding me is that my daughter wants to host me in her day. The question is, can I make space for her while I host myself? I have a body and my own emotional needs and an incredibly demanding schedule. Those things are involved in just being me in my life right now. I need to make space for me in the midst of my life and that requires a lot of care and balance with my time and energy. Can I also make space, in these little ways, to say yes to hosting and being hosted by my child? And can I see those opportunities for connection as not just part of my motherly duty (does that ever really end?) but as even a way to bring blessings to me? This is not a one way street.

A lot of ideas around hospitality now are about helping guests feel comfortable. And that is really important. But have you ever played the role of host for the evening and at the end of the day, felt refreshed by the company? Have you felt loved and heard even as you poured coffee and served food? We think that hospitality is a top-down, one-direction dynamic. But, if we’re honest and also open, hospitality can be a circle. We can give and receive throughout the evening and the entire relationship. When I was in ministry, I positioned myself as giver and rarely as receiver. What an exhausting and prideful way to live! And how much did I miss out on when I postured myself that way?

I just wrote about seeing myself as a colander creating space for people to share things. That idea is in line with hospitality. It’s not about a physical space (Jesus was not a home owner). It’s about connection. It’s about eye contact. It’s about paying attention. Maybe it’s actually a gift from God to me that my oldest is open and honest about her need for me. And maybe that’s not another thing on my list but the exact thing I need to remind myself that my priority is love, no matter how easy it is to get caught up in everything else.

Sifting Reality Through Social Constructionism

One of the things I love about being in school, especially in a subject that I’ve circled around my whole life, is randomly when I’m reading hundreds of pages for school, something jumps out of the page at me and gives me words for my reality. I’m doing some reading for my Gospel and Cultures class and we’re learning about a process called Appreciative Inquiry, which inevitably, we’ll conduct as a project for the class. But within the framework of research and how we discern what is going on in a community, the term “social constructionism” was defined. It’s basically about how we use language to understand reality. Here are a few quotes from my book,* “Social construction counters determinism - whether cultural, psychological or historical. We use discourse - ongoing, thorough conversation - to make social meaning out of our pasts, to imagine possible futures, and to form cooperative practices.” (p. 45) Also, “We live our lives within a construct - a world created among our lives and in our minds largely through language.” (p. 44). It also talks about how social constructionism rejects “the belief in objective observation and pure empirical knowledge.” (p. 45). Why am I talking about this using quotes on my blog?!?! Because in learning this term, I have a definition for what I’ve been doing on this blog for 5 years.

I’m taking my trauma, especially being fired from ministry via my husband being fired from ministry, and I’m trying to sort it using language and engaging socially to imagine a new future as I sort my past.

That’s fucking crazy! Apparently, I’m a genius. No, but seriously, I’ve gotten some shit for what I do, being vulnerable in public and not expecting people to weaponize it. But this is actually a really reasonable thing to do - to take your stuff and process it publicly with feedback and support to reimagine something else. It doesn’t mean everyone can do it with you, hence the pushback I’ve received. And that’s fine. But actually, I’ve navigated this process knowing that my story and experience is specific to me, with the assumption that it might help someone in their process. That’s why offense surprised me - I’m not saying my stuff is true in other contexts. I’m saying my stuff is true to me just as your stuff is true to you. And in identifying my stuff, I grow more self-aware and kind. That’s it. I just have a word for it now.

* Mark Lau Branson; Memories, Hopes, and Conversations: Appreciative Inquiry, Missional Engagement, and Congregational Change (Rowan & Littlefield, 2016).

Taking the Hints

I’m in my cave. I didn’t realize I was because I’m not “supposed to” be. I have assignments due tonight that I haven’t even begun reading for. My man is out of town, leaving the parenting fully in my corner for a few days. And yet here I am. Drinking tea, baking, doing puzzles and listening to Brandi Carlile. I knew that my intensive experience was forming me towards something. I’m picking up on the hints of what the future may hold. Choosing this grad program put me on a path. But it’s a trailblazing kind of path, not the kind that lands everyone (or anyone) is the same place at the end. I did that on purpose. Nevertheless, I am heading somewhere. And the hints are starting to pile up. I wonder if every semester after intensive I’ll be found in my cave processing. If I have to guess? Probably.

The piece I’m chewing on today is community. Part of what we’re learning in my Salvation and Human Identity class (can you imagine a more captivating subject for me than human identity? Nope. Doesn’t exist) is that humans are primarily relational. This seems obvious. But our time in history is fully built on what my professor called the “buffered self.” We make a lot of distinctions between ourselves and others. Just look at the shit show that is our political world right now. The other-ing is rampant. And repugnant. But that’s a different conversation.

So the question is, how do we become porous people (vulnerable, relational, compassionate, interdependent) when we live in a buffered world? In some ways, this is a well trodden path for me. I swear my life goal is to not be an asshole. And in order to not be an asshole, I must remain soft. It also kinda threw a wrench in my work on boundaries and freaked me out to an extent. It has been so critical for my health (especially as a 2 with a savior complex and a perfectionist black and white brain) to figure out what’s mine to hold and what isn’t. I’ve decided to stand by that work, knowing my porous self is still going to require boundaries. Maybe my instincts are innately porous and living in a buffered world has necessitated a bit of buffering just for survival. I don’t know. But porous living can’t be codependency. That doesn’t help anybody. Yea for life-long quests.

The reason I’m bouncing these ideas off the walls of my cave today is because whatever my future holds, I’m getting the hint (wily minx strikes again!) that it will involve a community. I love working with others anyway. I’ve been on my own so much with work and primary parenting (how many stay at home parents feel that way!!!) that it would thrill me to be part of something outside of just my ideas and ambition. But I’m wondering if whatever is coming involves more than collaboration. It might involve intentional community. I’ve met several people who have done my grad program and created intentional communities. While they’re all unique, the thread between them is the human need for unconditional love and support. As much as social media makes us think we’re more connected than we’ve ever been, people are fucking lonely. I think this buffered/porous thing is part of it.

We had the privilege of hearing from Paul Sparks from Parish Collective for a few hours during the intensive. He talked about integration of life in where we live, work and play. Across the world, neighbors are coming together and creating inclusive community. What a dream, right? Part of the reason we’ve lived in our townhouse for 14 years is because of the connection we feel with our neighbors. And that hasn’t been part of a larger, intentional movement. We just all love each other and are in each other’s lives. But what if whatever is brewing within me (and several colleagues) involves this kind of life? The kind of life where you have intimacy outside of your family? The kind of life that has a bigger, collective purpose? A place where everyone has a contribution to make and nothing about anyone disqualifies them from belonging?

I think part of the reason we have an opioid epidemic and hate crimes and suicide rates that are climbing is because people fall through the cracks in a buffered world. Not everyone can rely on their family to catch them. Some people are falling because of their family. People are overworked. Spouses can’t provide all the emotional and social support their partner needs (because that’s not what partnership is but we think it is). Social media can be a double-edged sword. Politics leave no room for error or nuance. We just want to watch something and sleep. We don’t get enough time outside. We don’t get the pleasure of healthy, affordable, easily prepared food. We’re overscheduled. Our kids aren’t safe to play outside unsupervised. It’s always raining (at least here!) Everyone wants more from us than we feel we can give at work and at home.

What would it be like to feel comfortable asking for help, knowing it’s there waiting for you? What would it be like to operate out of a place of wealth? Wealth of relationship, resources, energy - because it’s not an individual well you’re drawing from but a collective one. What can people accomplish when they live and work together? A lot. And that work starts within. It starts with moving along the spectrum from buffered to porous self.

***Okay this is weird. I was going through the post before publishing it to add links and I found this. Remember when I got trained to do Peace Circles because humans need connection? That was 18 months ago. Perhaps the hints have been coming longer than I thought!

Who Knew?

My heart is so full, you guys. I just finished my second “intensive” for my grad school program. We meet each semester in person for several days to start the semester and this one was in my hood, Portland. What a joy to have all my people in town and to share in experiences and learning together. In the process of embracing my 2-ness, I did not pace myself in providing care for my people. I let my soul soak up the joy of hosting and driving and giving myself. I did not judge how far my care was willing to go and I did not hold back. It was fun. And I’m so sad everyone left! My body was ready for care and I have so many things I’m processing from the experience (hence, this writing) but it’s such a cool thing to go through this immersive experience in community. I learn relationally so the cohort structure was the only way I wanted to do grad school, especially if the material was going to be mainly online.

So many surprising things occurred over our time together but I’ll write today about the biggest one, which is that I went to a local church of Christ and the experience was healing! I was looking forward to going, though bummed I didn’t get to introduce everyone to my church community. I was expecting the fun of going to be about seeing people I love who I only really get to see on social media. That, of course, did happen. But I was not expecting was the onslaught of emotion I experienced throughout the service. I only go to the church of Christ when I visit my parents and it’s my childhood church. It’s by no means safe for me but it’s just not the same as interacting with people in my city with whom I spent many years working alongside. Besides preaching last year, I haven’t attended a local church of Christ in probably 6 years.

It was like a “this is your life” moment where as soon as the worship leader started (we used to put on events where he led worship), this movie reel of our youth ministry days started playing. And the memories were GOOD. There was joy. And there was a faith that felt personal and emotional. My faith experience as I’ve unpacked my stuff has been way less personal than my old faith. I used to have a sense of what “God was doing in my life” and talked about “feeling called to…” I don’t necessarily intend to pick up that kind of language again, but I kind of thought that faith ship had sailed. That my faith now was going to be done in practice but not necessarily with the same level of emotion or submission to a higher purpose, whatever that meant. I’ve learned how to set healthy boundaries, form my own identity outside of actions and to be more curious about God rather than certain. Those things still hold true. But singing those songs with those people, I felt things I hadn’t felt in a long time. It was like my spiritual imagination brought a personal, emotional faith process back into the realm of possibility. It was the first time I wanted to sing TO God rather than ABOUT God in years. What a surprise!

I think when trauma occurs, especially trauma within your identity, it’s natural for some of the joy and beauty from before the trauma to get lost. The trauma takes up all the space. And the work becomes about finding yourself and your life within a new paradigm. Things get placed either before or after the traumatic event occurred. Not that it needs to define you. But it starts out very large and pervasive. I think some of the joy from that time in my life, the years of youth ministry, got buried under the rubble of our firing. This is a disgusting and inappropriate example but it’s almost like 9/11, where they dug and dug for weeks and occasionally found something underneath all that rubble that was still alive, or at least something that brought peace and closure to families processing the trauma. That possibility, the possibility that something was waiting for us communally under that rubble was worth all the horror and risk of the digging process. This blog has been about that process. And I was filled with joy and shock that Sunday morning at East County Church of Christ, my soul was presented with something still breathing under that rubble. What a gift.

Needless to say, I cried. I cried and cried and cried. There were many tasks and activities waiting for me that day after church, but I approached them all with a rubbery heart, mind and body. I had just run a spiritual marathon I had not trained or signed up for and I was done for the day at noon. I still had to move through the rest of the day. Which was fine. It was a wonderful day. But I felt like I got hit by a truck. I wanted to curl onto my couch under a blanket and sleep while still crying. That’s something people do, right? I did get to have a lot of kind and meaningful conversations after church. My soul started to imagine possibilities that have not been accessible to me for a long time. Possibilities for the future, for my future and my children’s future. It’s so interesting to have been hurt by your people and to find your people again on the other side.

There’s something waiting for me over there. I’m staying present in the process I’m in right now. But I think it may end up including my people after all. Life with God is wild. It’s like he’s some sort of cosmic wily minx. And yet the crazy things he brings are always full of something shockingly kind, restorative and unexpected. Who knew?

The Unraveling

You guys, if I said before that I was up to my ears in school, I was not. I am now, officially, up to my freaking ears! My third simultaneous class began this week. And the work is LEGIT. That being said, I’m reading 8 million things at once, taking notes, watching online lectures, writing responses and I realized just now, I am unraveling. Not in the bad way, like I’m dying or going insane. I’m unraveling in the way I engage with work and mystery. I am reminded of the many nights I have sat behind my daughters and worked with untangling their long, thick, matted hair. A lot of my mommy friends have no reference for the level of untangling I engage in often. One of my girl friends was here a few months ago and was totally baffled! It’s my normal. And it was my mom’s normal with me. Partly because we let things slide sometimes until they get bad and we’re not particularly vain or worried about having pretty hair. But more than that, it’s just what happens when you’re active and have a lot of hair. You just sit down and do the work, even if it takes hours.

In the same way that I have to bolster myself before I start the untangling process, I am looking at this school work with the same vision. Not just in tackling the actual work, which is daunting (how am I going to do it all in the time frame I have?) The vision that the work is worth the effort expended, that one day it will eventually be smooth enough to put the hair to use (braids, typically), and that there is learning in the process of the untangling. As you all know, I have been sifting my theology for 7 years. And looking at theology from the worldview I have post-sifting (though, will I ever truly be post-sifting?), now armed with books and professors and a cohort, I am ready to re-engage. Each reading on trinitarian theology or conversation about the historical Jesus or project with a church focus group is a knot I’m working through. It is something to come prepared for with eyes towards a future where I will have benefitted from this process. Some use will become clear for this learning and this experience in the end. But for now, I’m gonna keep brushing, keep reading and keep soldiering on.

Perfectionism and Graduate School

I've written here quite a bit about my perfectionism. I think putting myself in a graduate program, especially one that isn't an obvious choice based on my bachelor's degree, and also waiting 15 years to do it, is going to challenge my perfectionism in a way I hadn't quite predicted. It seems so obvious to me now, especially as I experienced a shame spiral this morning getting my first professor feedback on a paper. I've been writing publicly for a long time now, but not for a grade. Ironically, the feedback I've gotten from this blog has been mostly personal and so in some ways, much more difficult to process than something academic. And yet, having a professional who is insanely more educated than you are tell you all the things you missed in your assessment kinda hurts the pride a bit. The nature of this course I'm taking (Jesus in the Life of the Church) is tricky because the professor wants us to avoid doing any research when writing our papers. This is about building up what is already inside of us in order to be able to relate to Scripture as literature. It's really, really cool. But my confidence is a little shaken, especially because there are many people in the course who have an entire degree in this stuff. So even without research, their built in abilities are going to be way more honed than mine because of their education thus far. I know I bring life experience not just in my age but in my personal process of theology. I haven't dwelled in Scripture for many years (yelp!) but I have dwelled in the human desire to know God, walked the path of deconstruction and come out the other side of trauma healthier, more honest and less prideful. In a program like this, that matters and it's part of why I chose it.

My perfectionism wants to shame me because I didn't get an A on my first paper. My perfectionism starts talking in "shoulds". I should have known that I was making mistakes in my assessments. I should have understood that because the passage I've chosen in very short, it was going to make it that much more difficult to write 5 separate papers on it (it's only 7 verses!) I should have managed my time better so I could have had days in between writing it and turning it in so I could evaluate it in more than one head space. And on and on and on.

Here's the thing: I'm not taking this course to get a good grade. My ass kissing days are way behind me. I'm doing this to LEARN. Really learn. My world-weary self knows that this is part of learning. Taking the risk of writing to a PhD about topics that are brand fucking new to me and receiving feedback on it is pretty damn brave, in all honesty. And that risk I'm taking to do something new, something I love and being willing to be shaped by others in it is a risk well worth taking, now more than ever. Because now I know myself well enough to be able to have boundaries in the classroom (my perfectionism must be notified of this point). I don't have to internalize every opinion of every professor without my filters. I don't have to figure out his preferences in order to cater to his expectations. Of course, I need to take his feedback, consider it and do better next time. And I respect him immensely. His feedback was legitimate and helpful and will equip me to write the subsequent 4 papers (which will later turn into one monster paper by the end of the course). He was very kind and generous towards me. The grade was fair (and it wasn't bad - I got a B. So funny how that's TERRIBLE to a perfectionist!) The point is, my days of seeing a grade or an expert opinion and internalizing it to mean something about my personhood or value are done. I'm putting my stake in the sand and prioritizing process over perfection. I'm learning things that matter to me and I'm doing it on my terms. And I know I'm going to grow. Why? Because I am taking risks and I am learning from my mistakes. I can't do that if I plug my ears. And I can't do that if I just try to please my teachers. Learning for yourself is a whole new ball game. And finding the balance between ignoring feedback and internalizing it is a huge part of my personal growth.

Here's to my first steps!

BTW: the above pics are from my littles starting their first and last years of elementary. Might have something to do with my vulnerability to a shame spiral this week!!!

Suffering Isn't Evil

I have to tell you guys, I am really enjoying graduate school. I'm sure school in many areas would be fun or interesting, but the program I'm in specifically just fits like a friggin' glove. I'm so pleased! I'll be even more pleased tomorrow as it'll be the first day both of my kids will be at school (yea for the teachers strike ending!) as the program has been going on for a few weeks now and I feel an urgent desire to really hunker down.

One of the things I've been reading for class is a book that's actually out of print but I have no idea why because it's so brilliant! (Man, I am geeking out hard right now, sorry). The topic of one of the chapters is about suffering. There was a line he wrote that really brought clarity to something for me. He said, "the evil is in the intent to harm, not the suffering.” His greater point is that suffering isn't a problem to solve but just part of the human condition. But our modern/post-modern interpretation of pain is that it's always bad. I've written about this time and time again. I especially love that he brings intent into it as that has been a bit of a talking point for me for some time. It is so heart-breaking when you are held to a standard outside of your intention. I mean, I have had people hold me to things based on their own projection of what they decided my intentions were (or worse, outright claimed my intentions have no value in community), and I found myself at a total impasse. How do you resolve conflict (relational suffering, in this case) when what you say has no bearing on how others interpret your intentions? You freaking can't. 

So what I am continuing to learn is that if people don't give a fuck about your intentions, they don't give a fuck about you, not really. I don't mean that your intentions are your "get out of jail free card" but if they have no value within community, there is no grace or compassion in community. That's a community I cannot be accountable to because it is one in which I cannot be a human being. There is no space for feelings or frailty or straight up fucking up when your intentions don't matter. And so as I try to recover from experiences such as these, I can hold on to the fact that my causing suffering is not evil. It's evil to cause suffering if you're trying to do so. And that's legit, dude. Not okay. But if you cause suffering accidentally, you're just a person. It doesn't mean you can't apologize for unintentional harm, however, that apology only gains credence in a community willing to accept it. Sometimes that's more elusive than I imagined. 

It also means that when I feel harmed, I get to go back to my understanding of the other person's motives. Because I do my best to assign positive intent, rarely do I hold to this idea of evil. I have had a few occasions where the other person made it really damn clear they intended my harm, and that made it very easy for me to determine my response. But if I can have a reasonable doubt about another's intent to harm me, I get to reframe the suffering through the lens that it was possibly not on purpose. There are two sides to every story (let's face it: many more usually) so even when suffering is great, unless I am sure it was deliberate, I can choose not to receive it as evil. I can choose to receive it like grief, loss, heartache, but not true destruction. And that has merit.

A Letter to My Daughters as I Start Graduate School

My darling Macy and Penny,

As I pack my bags, ready to embark on my first graduate school intensive, I want to take a minute to talk to you about ambition and family. If you decide when you're older that you want to become a mother, know that you can fulfill that role however you deem best. Many people will tell you that you're only a good mother if you work or stay home or get married or stay married or breastfeed or sleep train and on and on. People will weigh in during your pregnancy. People will you tell you how to discipline, feed, educate, socialize and train your child. 

I want you to know that one of the hardest things for me to learn in my adult life has been how to tune out the opinions of others (especially the unsolicited ones!) and to tune into my gut instincts and inner voice. The world will have so many things to say to you about your value as a woman and if you decide, as a woman with children. People will tell you to be smaller because you have babies. You are needed in the diapers and the laundry and the millions of feedings. In these ten years as a full-time parent and part-time business woman, I have tried my best to hold space for what I perceived as your needs and for what I felt I needed as a person. And there have been seasons where that has been tremendously difficult.  It is so important to not get lost in the mundane, in the roles, in the predetermined rules, in the responsibility of it all. I can say that because I take my responsibilities seriously (if you don't, that's a different conversation). 

It is because I take my responsibilities seriously, that I must also take seriously my responsibility to care for and to be true to myself, to my purpose and sense of contribution in the world. People will tell you that a social contribution is something separate from mothering. It is not. Mothering is a tremendous contribution to make in the future of society whether you also earn an income doing it or not. I am raising you to be strong, kind, honest young ladies in the world, to make space for people different from you, to share your joy and to continue to make peace in the world. I couldn't be more proud of (and grateful to your father) the time that I was able to focus on your upbringing in these formative years with you at home.

I want to make the world a better place. I have for as long as I can remember. I have a deep passion for social justice and for theology and human relationship. So while you are in school during the day, I will be reading and writing and learning more in these areas. I will discipline myself. I will hone my skills. I will see where this road takes me. I will try to be a voice for the voiceless, to listen to stories that aren't being heard and to bridge the gaps in our society. And at 3pm, I will be in that pick up and will always back you up. No matter how far I venture into the world outside of our tiny nest of four, I will always come home to you. I will tuck you in and I will read you books and I will love you forever. Some things will not change no matter how old you get. You will always have a home in me.

It is my ultimate goal to provide stability for you at home while clearing the path for you in the world. Your words matter. Your beliefs are your choice. Your ambition is encouraged. I'm getting out there for me, undoubtedly. But I'm also getting out there in front of you to show you the way. I want you to see how it's done. Your day will come. And it's gonna be great!

Now about catching that flight...