Walking the Sea

Europe 2011 Video - Part 5

2012-01-03T22:09:00.000-08:00

This is Part 5 of the videos from Europe when I was in Paris, France. I'll now be working on the rest from my weeks in England.

Europe 2011 Video - Part 4

2012-01-03T22:01:00.001-08:00

Part 4 of my Europe tour, the first half of my time in Paris, France.

Europe Video- Part 3

2012-01-03T21:20:00.000-08:00

Apparently, this made it onto youtube but never my blog. This is from my time at the FWCC conference in Switzerland.

The Greatest Gifts of All

2011-12-19T13:07:00.000-08:00

I am writing you from smack in the middle of the Canadian Rockies. There is at least a foot of snow outside and majestic mountains just beyond the reach of my outstretched fingers. To say we are surrounded by beauty cannot relay to you the wonder of being enclosed in majesty. But as much as I treasure that joy of God's natural creativity, I enjoy the gifts inside our cabin even more. There is Gil who is washing the lunch dishes, Melody who is rummaging through her backpack, and Amy in the next room taking a nap under her pink Hello Kitty Christmas quilt. Then I also think of Donna paddling in the water beside me, laughing between strokes, both of us surrounded by the outrageous and slightly demented women on our dragon boat racing team, the Angry Unicorns, who are usually not angry at all, just weird. There is Deborah conducting her Christmas concert in the grandest theater in town, Christine singing the soprano descant which gives me a heavy case of the giggles her voice is so beautiful, and Sue and Bob in the next town over who are so down-to-earth and loving, joy wells up in me whenever I see them for I know I'm in for a good talk with amazingly real people.

As a child, I loved Christmas, partly, maybe even mostly, for the gifts. Not much has changed. I still love the gifts but what those gifts are has drastically changed. Instead of something I can open, these gifts open me-- to a wider world, to deeper thoughts, to greater love, and truer joy. These gifts move without batteries (though coffee helps for some), and you never know what they are going to say (there is no prerecording unless you call their voicemail). Without a remote control, they walk into the room and without turning a single switch, they light up my face with a smile.

These are the best gifts of all, people to love who love me back and as we move through Advent, waiting for Jesus, the greatest gift, I am thanking our God for all these other gifts of mine that light up my world like Christmas lights in the night, while waiting for the dawn.

Tis the Season

2011-12-19T10:56:00.000-08:00

Christmas... I wonder what emotions that word brings up for you? Are you filled with joy? Tears? Wonder? Stress? Perhaps all four?

One of the classic pictures of Christmas for me is people visiting each other, perhaps sharing cookies and a cup of hot chocolate. But in recent years, it seems this tradition has been largely left behind. You might have a friend you would like to visit with but when you ask them if they could get together, they tell you, "Oh, I'm so busy right now. Let me get through the holidays and then I'll have some time." (But you know they never will)

First, let me point out their use of the phrase, "get through the holidays." Now, for some people, holidays are a very difficult time emotionally and it is hard for them to find a smile. But for many of us, we tend to dive so deeply into Christmas shopping and preparing for a holiday party with friends or time with family, that we don't actually spend any time with friends or family. It's as if we spend the whole time in the kitchen but never at the table. And in doing so, we completely miss the point of the holidays. So what if your house isn't clean? What does it matter? Why can't you stop and see a friend, perhaps the one for whom Christmas is a hard time of year, and bring the greatest gift of companionship?

Jesus came to be with us. That is why we celebrate Christmas. We celebrate the presence of God with us, yet when it comes to this time of year, celebrating each other's presences is the last thing we do. It frustrates me greatly that during this time of year dedicated to being with one another, we are too busy to actually do it. Our priorities our all wrong. We put the emphasis on the things we think are the gifts (the stuff) and not on the gifts that have atually been given (each other). I am pleading with you to not tell someone you are too busy this season to see them. The holidays are not for getting through. Perhaps it's in this way, a bad economy is a blessing. We don't have the money to go out and buy expensive gifts or expensive excursions but we have time to go for walks, to play games, to talk, and perhaps to bake, together.

Ask yourself, what is Christmas all about if not companionship and relationship? Look at a nativity set. Is there a cash register anywhere around? A mop? Is there grumpy people walking around a mall? Nope. And there never will be. What they have is each other. If this is what we are celebrating, shouldn't we make time for the Jesus in each other?

Space on a Train

2011-08-12T11:22:00.000-07:00

It seems fitting I pick up this blog again while riding a train. All throughout my time in Europe, train time was my space, my rest, time to think, relax, just be. My best writing comes out of my be space. I loved it. Traveling by train is my favorite form of transportation and such peace is compounded today as I am heading to a weekend retreat with friends after a very full week.

It has actually been a very full summer and my blog was set aside for awhile so I could pay attention to more internal things. A new time is opening up for me, in my career, in my relationships, with God, and deeply within. Though I don’t know all of what my life is transforming into and what all these changes will be or are even becoming, it has been life-giving to have the space to attend to them.

Change can be hard for us, even good change. For every new thing coming into our lives, there is something we are leaving behind. Even the things we are glad to see go can have a tinge of grief while we watch them fall away. And those things we don’t want to let go of but know we need to, there can be great pain in the release.

One thing I am not letting go of, not to mention it would never let go of me, is my writing. The next poetry book, the third in the trilogy, is two-thirds of the way written and my illustrator is starting the set of drawings to accompany the text. Already a beautiful book, it has been a joy to work on and see come together. All the books will be at the Oregon State Fair this year along with my friend, Dolores Dahl’s poetry books at the author’s table in the Americraft building, or as I grew up calling it, the Jaackman-Long building. Dolores will be running the table during the day and I will take charge of it in the evenings. It’s a nice way to have the books at the fair and to keep flexibility in the day time. In honor of the fair, I will be dropping the price of all the poetry books to $10 each and $5 for the devotional. This price is good through September even if you don’t come to the fair.

In the meanwhile, I still have life to figure out as it unfolds before me. I have several ideas for blog posts but have one more book review and a few articles to write, not to mention a quilt to finish, before I write a lot on here. But I will try to write more often, put some of those ideas to paper. :)

Europe Picture Slide Show - Part 2

2011-06-21T23:55:00.000-07:00

Here is the second installment!

Europe Picture Slide Show - Part 1

2011-06-21T23:27:00.000-07:00

I am finally to the point I can start sharing pictures with everyone. Though I am still sorting through them, I have put the first week of the trip in a slide show for yours and my enjoyment. The other parts will be released in the coming days. Stay tuned...

Freedom Friends Church Traveling Minute Report

2011-06-07T22:46:00.000-07:00

Freedom Friends Church

Traveling Minute Report

Europe 2011

June 4, 2011

Dear Friends,

There is a question from one of the pieces in Spirit Rising I often like to read aloud to an audience: “Why are we so quiet?” This question is similar to another question Quakers have asked for hundreds of years: “Why do we travel in ministry?” With all the planning, physical, emotional, and spiritual energy expended, and the processing afterwards, what compels us to leave home and travel to somewhere far away to speak to an audience who may or may not understand what we say? Why do we do it? For myself, there are many reasons to travel in ministry: visiting f/Friends, sharing a message, taking part in the larger community of Friends, and to expand my own viewpoint. But despite all that, I hold to the truth that God had his own purpose for me being in Europe that may or may not have included reasons of my own. I trust he led me to say what I shared, that he opened the doors to where I needed to be and there is some lasting truth or inspiration in the footsteps I left behind.

Starting off the tour by speaking at Watford Friends Meeting just outside of London and then visiting Johnston Friends Meeting to see the building and visit William Penn’s Grave, these meetings set the tone for the rest of the trip of interesting discussions, experiencing things I had only heard about, and getting to know Friends from around the world. In all, there were twelve talks in four of the six countries I visited, and they all went well. These included speaking in England, the Netherlands, Switzerland, and France with time spent with Friends in Belgium and Germany. At the FWCC conference in Switzerland, there were over a hundred Friends from twenty-six countries around the world so I had the pleasure of spending time with a larger variety of Quakers than I heretofore experienced.

In Birmingham, England, at the Quakers Uniting in Publications (QUIP) Annual Conference, Harriet and I released Spirit Rising in the United Kingdom. Deciding on a creative approach to our presentation, we put together a “slide show” telling the story of how the book came together. As I told the story, Harriet acted it out with me occasionally jumping in when interaction was needed. With both of us enjoying being goofy and making people laugh, the “slide show” was a huge hit and made for a very memorable evening for all who were there. As became my habit when speaking about the books at meetings, we also each read a favorite piece and selected other pieces to have others read aloud so there would be a variety of voices both in words and sound.

One of my greatest lessons of the trip was learning to share and take power. At the QUIP conference, Harriet and I had to learn to let the group who had supported us as we created the book take responsibility for it. Encouraging them to do so, we then had to step back and let them, listening to them deciding on how to finish the Spanish translation and how to deliver copies to Africa, only giving input when we thought it was truly needed. The book has left our hands and working with QUIP was a rich time declaring that and urging others to take the book and make it their own. I also learned to take power. Many of the pieces in the book mention how older adults don’t give young adults the chance to take leadership. Through attending business meeting and serving on the Nominations Committee, I realized how important it is for those who want leadership to show up and volunteer. Seemingly a simple solution, it surprises me how often people don’t do it. But if a person wants to have influence on what is going on, then they need to show up when the decisions are being made. Showing up for leadership and then sharing it are, I believe, subjects we don’t talk about nearly enough.

After leaving the conference in Birmingham, I went to the North of the country to stay at Swarthmoore Hall. Walking across the fields where George Fox would stroll to think, touring and staying in the house itself, reading selections from his journal, and trying to imagine the early Quakers gathering there between trips, I developed a new respect for what George Fox went through on behalf of a message he firmly believed in. Though I firmly believe Jesus is the one we should emulate, not George Fox, it was quite fascinating to see where Margaret Fell and George Fox lived and worked. Several days later, I also explored another famous Quaker site: Pendle Hill. Climbing that outlook, I felt I finally earned my Quaker badge. Though I appreciated the historicity of the experience, I also enjoyed the climb for the sheer beauty of the view and the delight of spending the day with two beautiful Friends. And just like George Fox, once I reached the top, I was able to see the sea in the distance.

While the trip was an amazing experience, there were difficult parts about my time there as well. Since I was traveling in the ministry, I was not my own person. By that I mean I wasn’t there for myself, my time was not my own. After speaking, I would then talk with the people at meeting or be attending other parts of the conferences and since I was being hosted nearly the whole time, my hosts would want to talk with me as well. All this interaction without much downtime by myself was hard. As a speaker, you also carry the label of being in ministry; you aren’t seen as who you are at home. Combine that with having very little interaction with people from home, and I was struggling by the end to keep the stress from showing. If I could change something about the trip, it would be to have had a few Skype phone calls with mentors from home with whom I could process. Not traveling with an elder, I was on my own and it would have been helpful to have a trusted voice on the other line.

After returning home, it didn’t take long to unpack most of what I brought home with me but I have only begun to delve into processing and unpacking the experience itself. Thinking about what I learned, what I saw, and deciding on my next steps will take time. Because of how I changed and changed relationships and circumstances coinciding with the time of the trip, I am not simply coming back and readjusting to a life I left. It is coming back to a different life and like having a blank canvas before me, deciding what I want to paint upon it. As Frodo says in The Lord of the Rings, “There is no going back.” You can only move forward and while trying to process and find my feet, I am also deciding on what that forward movement will be. But I am sure that the lessons I learned in Europe will help me find my way.

One of the pictures I kept in my mind while traveling on the trains throughout Europe, was a seed bag swinging at my side while walking in the countryside. Stopping at a field, I would throw my seed out over the furrows and then God would take me via train to the next field needing the seed I carried. I didn’t get to stay to see the seed take root. I didn’t even get to see it watered and I never will. But I know God had me throw those seeds into those particular fields for a reason and that truth spoken in love is never wasted, that God will bring those seeds to fruition in his own time. Traveling in ministry is an act of trust. I don’t get to see grow what I gave but I know the seeds will grow in their own way and though I don’t understand the why of it all, I know God does and that is enough for me. I am simply grateful to have been given the gift of throwing the seeds.

Your fellow Friend,

Sarah Katreen Hoggatt

Where in the World is Sarah?

2011-05-14T02:05:00.000-07:00

It's been a busy week! For some reason, I saved the busiest schedule for the last week I am here. Last Sunday I was in Chorley with Hetty and her family. After lunch, we took the train back down to London where I stayed the night with her before leaving in the early morning with a tour on Monday to Stonehenge then Bath. I then stayed in Bath for two nights where I was given some soap and had a shower in the rain (along with seeing many wonderful places!) and then took another morning train on Wednesday back to London to explore Kennsington Palace, see a show at the Globe Theatre where I ran into someone I last saw in Switzerland, whizzed through the Tate Modern, and saw the musical Love Never Dies at the Aldelphi Theatre. Thursday morning I woke up early to catch a morning train to Cambridge where I went punting and enjoyed a long walk before giving a talk in the evening. On Friday morning, I woke up early to, you guessed it, catch a morning train to Lewes which went through London. Arriving in the afternoon in Lewes, I had another walk and a good dinner before getting about nine hours sleep! I am here in Lewes for another night before catching the train back to London tomorrow evening. I then get a full day to explore Greenwich, the Tate Britain, and see Wicked before flying home on Tuesday.

It's nice to have my last weekend here in a small town near the coast and though it involves two talks, it's still a way to unwind a bit and get some rest. I'm getting a hang of this traveling thing though, all the trains and the tube system. I now know what to look for, where to go, and am feeling quite confident. It's a nice place to be, it is what I am used to. (I have spent a lot of time stepping on and off trains!) For example, yesterday to get here, I had to take a bus, a train, the tube, and another train. No problem. Easy as pie. Even my backpack has become a friend, that traveling companion ever nearby.

Today George and I are walking to see the castle here in Lewes before I give my talk tonight. I also get to wash all my clothes today which is pretty exciting as well. I'll try to create a post of pictures later today for all of you to see.

Tramp for the Lord

2011-05-08T15:56:00.000-07:00

In the Corrie Ten Boom Museum in the Netherlands, I saw a picture in an upstairs hallway of Corrie standing on a road with a suitcase in hand and a smile on her face, the caption underneath reading, “Corrie, tramp for the Lord”. Corrie traveled extensively sharing her story of The Hiding Place with the entire world, speaking in an untold number of places, talking about tolerance, compassion, and diversity with whoever would listen. I loved this picture and felt an immediate affinity for what it represented. Being a traveling minister myself, I thought this picture was hilariously funny and immediately decided I too, was a tramp for the Lord.

As of today, I have been on the road with my backpack for one month, one-twelfth of the whole year. By the time I am done with this trip and adding in all the other travel I have done for the book in the last twelve month period, it probably comes close to one-sixth of the year. I think this definitely gives me “Tramp for the Lord” status. This pleases me.

In addition to being greatly amused by this new title, it has also given me an opportunity to think about what being a tramp for the Lord means. Going into this ministry trip, I knew the hardest part would not be all the moving from place to place or carrying the backpack, which I am told is probably at least fifty pounds, but that it would be handling the roles of speaker, guest, representative, and author on a nearly constant basis for almost six weeks straight. It’s an admittedly, tall order.

When traveling on a journey like this, you aren’t your own person, your time is not yours to use as you wish. When you are a tramp for the Lord, you lay down some of your own desires, preferences, and even needs. You give when you think you can’t give anymore. You engage with people when you would rather disengage and sneak off to be alone. You put one foot in front of another when you would rather sit down. It is very much a laying of one’s life on the altar, giving it up, casting your net out on the water, and praying, “Not my will by thine be done.”

I’m not saying that it’s not fun. I’m not telling you that there aren’t times when I have more freedom to go do as I choose than at others when I’m on someone else’s schedule or that I haven’t had delightful periods of peaceful rest. I’m not saying I wouldn’t do it all over again in a heartbeat, that all the things I have seen, explored, and learned are not entirely worth all the planning and the daily challenge of being present. The rewards are more than worth the price. In fact, the Sunday before I left, friends at church said with generous sarcasm, “Way to carry the cross Sarah! Suffering for Christ in Europe!” And it’s not as if all my needs go unmet. But you never get as much time to rejuvenate as you would like, as much quiet without someone wanting to talk to you as you need. You have to learn in the fire when to keep going when you don’t think you can and when to excuse yourself for some rest. I probably error on the side of staying to talk with people but I know my time here is of limited duration and I need to be open while I can.

One image that has inspired me continually as I go along is that of scattering seeds in the fields I have the honor of passing through. Hanging against my hip is a “bag of seeds” and everywhere I go, I reach my hand in, grasp a handful, and throw them out among the furrows. I pray they take root. I pray they find a place to grow. I pray God brings along other people to water the seeds I’ve thrown. But where the seeds land and how they grow I will never know. My task is to walk through the fields faithfully, to throw the seeds lovingly, not to know what happens to them after I leave. But there is great pleasure in this, pleasure in knowing I get to throw the seeds and joy in being a planter in hands I adore. Tramping along the dirt roads beside stone walls, I do what needs to be done to get the seeds out there. I have faith God has reasons for exactly where I go.

So here I am, giving my time, my efforts, my life. Because that is what we do in the ministry and we are all ministers. We acknowledge that our lives are not about us. It’s about the larger story of God redeeming the world and everything in it, seed by seed. It’s about being a light of his everlasting and steadfast love, of his joy and inner peace. It’s about grace. But the great thing is though, that God takes care of his children. The Lord makes sure all our true needs are met while we scatter his seeds. Though we sacrifice our lives, God does not. He takes what we give and makes sure we have what we need. He gives us the space we did not expect to write in our journal, or take a walk by the sea, or a train ride that’s quiet, or makes sure an activity is more life-giving than we thought it would be. I know I’m in good hands. I am still a whole person and God respects that more than anyone else. But if I am not willing to sacrifice for a greater good, what is my faith worth, let alone the service I give? We all want to leave behind us something larger than ourselves, something lasting longer than our lifetime. The Bible tells us to die to self so we can live, a verse I think Corrie must have liked and I am proud to walk under the same banner, a tramp for the Lord.

Art of the Ages

2011-05-07T02:38:00.000-07:00

While traveling throughout Europe, I have seen a great deal of art and religious art in particular. During medieval times and the Renaissance, most art was religious in nature and there are certainly a lot of religious sculptures and paintings in the churches and cathedrals. After examining all these extraordinary works from throughout the ages, I have had several questions to wrestle with, things I have pondered and asked about our view of God and self.

Look at the sculpture pictured above. What do you notice? What do you see? One of the things I notice as I look at it is that everyone is dressed in the clothes of the time this sculpture was carved. This it true for much of the religious art I have seen. Rarely are the figures dressed in clothes they may have actually worn. Think about the amount of fabric here, would they have actually worn that much? Of course not! Fabric fibers were harvested, cleaned, carded, dyed, spun, woven and then sewn. There is an immense amount of work in that process and they would have not wasted fabric on extra folds or trains. They would have needed to be able to move around to do their work. Only the rich could afford flowing robes. So why are they pictured in clothes such as these? Why go so far out of their original context?

The reason the artists went outside of the character’s context is because they weren’t painting the Biblical context, they were painting their own. They weren’t concerned about staying true to the historicity of the times, they wanted to paint theirs. They painted and sculpted to bring the stories of the Bible into their own world, into their understanding. If we did that today, the disciples would be wearing jeans and t-shirts that say, “Gone Fishing”. But in the modern western culture, we spend immense amounts of time understanding the “original context”, the Biblical cultures, clothing, and way of behavior. We want to find out what they ate, what their houses were like, and the practices of their social structures.

So we have two different cultures with two different views on the Biblical stories: one culture that put them into their own context and another who study the context in its original setting. So here is my question: which is it? Were they wrong to try to understand the stories through the lens of their own culture? Are we wrong to keep the stories at such an objective distance? Do one of us have the better idea? Are we both wrong? Are we both right? Is there even a right and wrong in the first place?

I believe that when it comes down to it, we are both right and we are both wrong, if right and wrong are even the best terms for it. I love the truths both views represent. On one end, we study the original settings which help us better understand what the writers meant, the importance of some of the details in the stories. But if we leave the stories there, they mean little. We need to then bring these stories and characters into our own contexts, into our time frame and find out how these stories written so long ago are our stories, how they hold the truths of our lives.

At the same time, if we go too far in one direction, if we forget to look at the writers’ original context and read what they said entirely into our own world, or if we spend so long studying what they said to their culture and forget what they are saying to our own, then we are missing the whole point of why they wrote. God’s word is always new, always speaking. It spoke to their time, it spoke to those in the Middle Ages, and it speaks to ours here and now. Art is supposed to be creative, to make us see things we might have missed, and whether that art places characters in clothes of their time or in ours doesn’t matter so much as the message those stories convey.

To take this to an even broader level of Truth, I have also been asking myself a question on top of the first: do we insist on clothing God in what we see as the truth of our times? Do we play dress-up with God? Do we place our values and desires upon God, assuming the Lord agrees with what we hold as important? There must be a reason most religious art of the past hasn’t even tried to portray God directly, only Jesus. Did they know this could never be done? So why do we try to do the very thing they never even dared attempt? Why do we portray God in metaphorical modern day clothing and ideas, that same pair of jeans and a t-shirt that proclaims, “Turn or burn!” God is so much bigger than that, better than that. He outstrips us, our understandings, our ideas, our conceptions. God wants us to search after him, to try to understand him, but not to put him inside our understanding. He is the painter, we are the painted.

So take a step back and take another one forwards. Put God in context then let God get back out again. Study the art before you, either on canvas, in stone, or written onto the bark and brooks of the larger world, and see what stands out to you. How do you see the origins of the story? And how do you see the one who originated you? The painter is still painting.

Ahava Auto

2011-05-03T13:56:00.000-07:00

Note: I wrote most of this last fall and then finished the story tonight.
"Screeeeeech... screeeeech!" That is the noise of my frustration coming from somewhere around the front wheels of my car. "Grrrr" is the noise coming from me. Resisting the urge to pull over and exercise my kicking skills against the car, I turn into the parking lot at work instead and try my best to put the noises out of my mind until I can tend to them later. Praying over the car and then making it a burnt offering crosses my mind.

In the afternoon, I nervously walk back to my wax-long-gone vehicle and start it up hoping the first fall rain miraculously has wet enough of whatever is making the noise to finally make the car be quiet and not let the noises cast the "shadow of the valley of death" onto my automobile's valuable life. "Here's to hoping" I think.

Following the advice of a friend, I turn the radio's volume up so I can't hear the noise because if you can't hear it, the noise doesn't exist, right? This is what I have been telling myself throughout the several weeks as my car has elected to make one noise, or two, after another but I can no longer stand the aggravation. "That's it!" I decide. "I'm taking you in!" Windshields wipers making back and forth trips across my window, shooing the raindrops away, I find my way through the rain over to where I know I need to go. I often avoid this place and I wish I had a good reason for doing so but until I actually get there and talk with the guy, it's hard to go to this shop because I'll take the car in for one thing and the mechanic points out something else that needs to be fixed. Or a couple of things. Take your pick. It can be a heart-rending experience, especially if I haven't been in for a while and I know work needs to be done.

Parking the car in an otherwise empty parking lot, I grab my little purple backpack from the seat beside me and try to cover the lenses on my glasses as I hurry to the front door of Ahava Auto. Bell jangling to announce my entrance, I wipe my feet on the matt and look up to see the mechanic coming in through the shop door to my left.

"Sarah! How have you been? Car giving you trouble again? You know, you can come see me anytime, not just when the car is making noises. I miss talking with you!"

Sheepishly, I look into his face, "Hi God. I know and I'm sorry. I miss our talks too. It's been a busy week but I really need your help with this. I've got nowhere else to go."

"No problem but you don't have to save me till last." he cheerfully replies with a wink and a smile. "Let's see what we can do. Give me your keys and we'll take it for a test drive first."

After opening the front door for me and unlocking the car, we slide onto the bench seats of what I like to call, "my grandpa muscle car" and he pulls out onto the road with a master's skill. "So how have you been this week?"

"Okay. I have too much on my plate. I really appreciate and am grateful to you for the house sitting work and the full-time hours for a little while but they are demanding and other things aren't getting done. I don't know what to do about it."

"Don't know what to do or are too scared to do it?"

"Both." I admit. "I know I need to unload a few things, that I say yes to too much. I know what I am supposed to be doing, but I'm not putting my priorities on the top of the list. I'm not putting first things first."

"You know, a car like this runs well. It's a good engine but it's meant to drive. It can serve in other capacities when you need it to such as a place to sleep if you're homeless but that is not what it is made for. You can do it for awhile but it feels uncomfortable if you do it for long. A car is made to drive. What are you made for?"

"Writing. I know it's writing. I love to put words on paper. It feels like painting. I also love being in that place of prayer with another as a spiritual director. I feel 'in my place' when I do those things."

"But you haven't been. Why not?"

"Busy. Not willing to take the time, to sit down and share. Some days I feel I don't have anything worth saying."

"But you always do, eventually. It's not yours alone you know. Your gift is meant to be shared. The car is meant to be driven."

"Yeah."

"Is this the noise?"

"Yup"

"Ah. You know, there is a difference between what need to be done and what is just getting done. What needs to be done will help your car run like it is supposed to. What is just getting done is what comes up which may or may not be what the car is made for. Understand?"

"I think so. So all those little things I think need to be done may or may not be what I actually need to be doing and the things I am made for are not even on the list."

"Exactly."

"That is rather disheartening."

"Why is that?"

"Because most of the things I do feel like they need to be done!"

"Try it this way: make a list of the things of top priority to you. Keep the list short then do those things. All those other little things will either go away or you learn to say no to what does not fit. You can only fit so much in the trunk of the car."

"I'll give it a whirl. So what's wrong with the car?"

"The hub assembly, rotars, and brakes all need to be replaced."

"How much is that going to cost me?"
"More than you could ever pay, but there isn't ever any charge. Just do me a favor okay?"

"Okay."

"Do what you were made for. I made you to be you. Stop trying to be everything else."

"Thanks God."

Pulling back into the parking lot, God turns off the car and gives me the keys. As I walk around to the driver's side, he wraps me in a big hug which he knows I need. As he heads back into the garage, I am left standing by the car, wondering why I ever wait so long between visits. Then I take my seat and look at the steering wheel, smiling at the note he's left. "God was here - Come back soon!"

Daring to Open the Door

2011-05-03T12:52:00.000-07:00

I have long heard tales about the glories of the Woodbrooke library, how it is a literal treasure trove of hundreds of years of Quaker thought, writings from as long as Quakers have been practicing this particular spirituality. I have been told how people come from far and wide to study here and to open the books held within its walls, how there are many nuggets of gold among the pages never fully explored. I had also read guests could borrow the books while they were here.

Thus, when I saw the stained glass door with the word "library" incorporated into the design, I was rather excited. Being a very curious person, using my key, I unlocked the door, walked down a short hallway, and entered a cream colored, small room. On my right was a locked door labeled "library office" and I could see through the glass window there were shelves of material stored in there. On my left, were bookshelves full of fiction and poetry and while scanning the volumes, I was pleasedd to see they had the full sets of Harry Potter and Narnia. Still, I wanted to write while I was here, not read, and besides, I would be more interested in non-fiction anyway. I figured they stored the old books in the office to protect them while no one was on duty. Rather dissapointed as this did not live up to the glories I had heard of, I turned around and walked out.

The next morning, I was eating breakfast with several of the other conference participants when one of them was telling us about how she spent a very enjoyable time the evening before in the library and how when she left, there were several other people still up chatting. This didn't match my impression of the room and when I told her so and shared what I had seen, she told me I had to keep going through that room and into another. Quickly, I finished breakfast and headed back to see what else there was. This time, I let myself into the first room, and walked straight through it to another door I had not noticed before labeled "library". Letting myself into this room, I saw before me shelves of non-fiction books along with moveable shelves to my right and while they looked very interesting and I figured the old ones were on the moveable shelves, I was still dissapointed. What I saw and experienced was not what I had heard about. So much for great libraries.

But then as I looked around, I spotted yet another door. Pushing on the door handle, I walked through and finally saw what everyone had been talking about. From floor to ceiling were locked book cases with glass fronts and behind them were shelves and shelves of extremely old looking books, book after book after book after book. Looking down at a sign on a table in front of them, I read, "All books published before 1800 are now on restricted access. Please ask library staff for help." It took me one second flat to realize where the books published after 1800 (!) would be. Sure, enough, turning to my left were high shelves full of both old and new books and eagerly, I ran to these and started scanning titles. Freely, I pulled off and perused books from years such as 1818 and 1826, people's journals and periodicals, records, and theological thoughts about the goodness of God in a world with so much trouble and pain. There were early Quaker documents, people I had never heard of, a whole library full! The glories of reading were open for all.

As I walked back through the rooms of the library that day, I thought about how similar this is with our experiences of God. We hear about a God who is loving beyond end, who wants to spend our daily lives with us, and how he will renew the whole of creation, glory beyond measure We hear of wonders and miracles and joy and peace and love and those sound fantastic so we decide to explore this God of which we hear and go to church or pray. We pick up a book or write a book, we go hear a speaker and start speaking ourselves. We look for God in the flowers, in the smell of freshly mown grass, among the bricks and motar of the world. And we come up dissapointed. We do not see the God of which we hear. Some walk out, some stay in the room trying to make the best of the situation, make the best of a dissapointment we don't even admit to.

But then we sit down to breakfast one morning, or talk to a friend and they tell us of their experiences with a God we do not know. A God we have hoped for, but have never seen or touched ourselves. We have heard whispers but have never known where to look, caught glimpses but never knew where to run. But we give it a go, we decide to go back to what we have known and look again. And this time we see a door. Do we dare to walk through it? Do we dare to leave what we have known behind and see what is on the other side? Yes, we dare! Turning the handle, we step into a whole new view of the Lord we thought we had known, new vistas are opened, new horizons before us yet this is still not the God we have heard of so we, having learned our lesson in the first room, look aroumd and explore, searching for yet another door. Then there it is and we walk boldly before it in great reverence suspecting what is beyond.

Grasping the door knob in our hands, we slide it open and are immediaetly in awe of what we find beyond. Everything we have heard of is true. Everything we have longed for is there. And God is there, full glory, eternal majesty, with our favorite cup of tea wanting to be personal, to talk, to listen, to walk the road with us, to show us this whole new creation. Wisdom of the ages at our fingertips, love beyond measure around us. It's all true, it's all solid, and there is so, so much more.

We are all in such rooms. We are all looking, searching, even if we have come to uneasy terms with dissapointment. We suspect there is something more to God and this world. We suspect there is deeper love and healing and we know that where we are at is not it. And we are right. The rooms we are in are not it and here is where the metaphor breaks down. There is no final room. There is no place we finally get to lay down in and say we have seen it all. There is only door after door after glorious door. This doesn't mean, however, we need to go right from one room into another. It is okay to stop and take a look around, to pull some of the books off the shelf, find a chair, and open them up. The shelves are a gift. The books, the writings, they are to guide us as we walk through these rooms, words to teach us and let us know there are doors beyond and when we learn from them, we are better able to see the door into the next room.

I have walked through many doors in my life and it comstantly amazes me when I find yet another one waiting for me to open up and walk through. Some doors I am searching for and some are given me. Some I find in great surprise and others are pointed out. Sometimes it is a book I've read, or a place I have seen, but they are always there one after another, calling me to keep looking, keep knowing, and keep growing. It's a beautiful garden that fills your soul with peace, it's the song of the birds, or tears of a new realization. It's the love of a friend, so deep, resonating in the very core of your heart that you look at God and think, this must a part of what your love is like. We think we know. We think we understand. Then something comes along that brushes our hand and haunts us, telling us there is more. Do we stop? Do we dare to look beyond? Do we open the door?

Do I? Do you?

A Room of One's Own

2011-04-29T09:06:00.000-07:00

By the time I arrived at Woodbrooke, it had already been a long traveling day and I was tired. Between the Metro, Eurostar, walking, train, and bus, I was ready to set my bags down and to rest a while. So after signing in, a woman brought me upstairs to show me my room. Walking in behind her, I took a look around and spotting only one bed, became very excited. A room to myself? Really? This was beyond my wildest dreams! There are truly no words to explain how much this means to me. I may be an extrovert, but after nearly three weeks of traveling in six countries, some time to myself in private space is exactly what I need.

I want you to know I am extremely grateful to all my hosts, grateful for their kindness, hospitality, and loving grace. They have been a dear gift I treasure. But after sharing space for so much time along with dealing with the stress and joys of travel, I love getting to "let my hair down" by myself in my own defined space.

Upon later exploration, I found a hair dryer which means I get to do my hair up, an extra blanket to cuddle up in, my very own bathroom and shower, a kettle and fixings for tea and hot chocolate, a closet to hang some clothes up instead of always digging in my bag, a desk to write at, a window that opens, and a chair for reading. Absolute heaven! I even borrowed a hot water bottle from the Friends in Residence Office, a cherry on top of an already very large ice cream sundae!

It is also nice to be at this particular conference as it is a writer's conference and I am happy to be with those who share my love of the written word. I also feel very much a part of this group as this is the fourth meeting I have been a part of and they enjoy having Harriet, another editor of Spirit Rising, and I here as active members.

For those who don't know, Woodbrooke is a Quaker Study Center in Birmingham, England made up of several buildings, the biggest of which is a huge mansion, surrounded by beautiful gardens, a forest, and a lake. The gardens are a world of their own, a magical place with hidden rooms and paths leading to unexpected delights, the kind of place you would expect to find fairies flying around in the air with the bees. It is a place of rest and intellectual and spiritual searching and study. It is just right for me at this time in my journey. In fact, I have already been able to take the time to write some new poems during a poetry writing workshop this morning. Oh yes, and the English breakfasts an d tea are delicious.

I tell you this not only to let you know how things are going, but as I have walked this journey, I have developed a passion for helping other traveling ministers by being a voice for them of the joys and the struggles of traveling and speaking. It is not an easy undertaking and demands far more of the minister than they think they can give. It also demands a whole new level of self-care, a learning curve of when to push yourself and when to let yourself "off the hook" and go rest. This conference is both a time for me to work on topics I am deeply passionate about and to take the rest I deeply need. I am immensely grateful for both.

An Interview with God

2011-04-28T15:33:00.000-07:00

The foothills of the Swiss Alps, Paris streets, and a German café – it has been a whirlwind adventure thus far for our traveling minister. Now at the half-way mark of her European speaking tour, this roving Walking the Sea guest reporter managed to sit down with Sarah on the Eurostar train while heading back to England. While asking the questions you all want to know (I already know), Sarah candidly shared her experiences with me (as she usually does) and the lessons learned while trekking across the European continent.

“Good morning Sarah. How are you doing today?"

“Pretty good. A little tired but I am on the train back to London so I can sit back and relax for awhile while talking to you.”

“Good. We’ll make sure you get to bed at a decent hour after you speak on the poetry panel tonight. But for now, let’s talk. You have been on the road for nearly three weeks. Overall, how has the trip been going for you?”

“The trip has been going well. It has been stressful at times and breathtaking at others. I’ve seen so much that it is going to take me a long time to digest it all.”

“What are some of your favorite things you’ve seen?”

“Many cathedrals and churches including St. Paul’s, Cologne, Sacre-Coeur, Notre Dame, Sainte Chapell, and one in Brussels. I’ve also explored many museums such as the Louvre, Rodin Museum, Dutch Resistance Museum, and the one on the history of London. I also loved seeing the original works at the British Library and a German poet’s museum in Germany. Two that really moved me deeply though and meant a lot to me were the Anne Frank House and the Corrie Ten Boom Museum.”

“What was so inspiring about those?”

“Anne Frank and Corrie Ten Boom are household names in America and were part of my education. They were stories I knew well but hearing a story and then visiting the houses where the events took place are entirely different experiences. I can read about the hiding place in Corrie’s bedroom all I want, but to stand inside it with five other people, the amount in hiding when the family was arrested, the truth becomes known in your body and what they did reaches way down deep inside me.”

“You also had some interesting thoughts in Europe about World War II you haven’t shared. What are those?”

“Being in Europe itself was also life changing. You hear a story but then when you visit the place, it becomes so much more real to you. Going to the beach, Marielke and Fritz told me as we sat in the dunes that they are still finding buried bodies from World War II when the Nazis would take their Jewish and political prisoners and make them dig their own graves there before shooting them. I am born a Jew and though it is above my grandmother’s generation (usually the cut-off for the Nazi’s), I am still racially Jewish and involved at Temple so I don’t think they would have had a problem killing me too. Besides being in places I would have been killed, not that I wouldn’t be killed for being a woman or Christian at other times and places, seeing the repercussions and hearing people’s stories of their families, I realized it is not something that happened 70 years ago, but is part of the fabric of life today. Temples still have tight security in Europe as anti-Semitism in still around.”

“You have spent a lot of time with people from other cultures. What has that been like?”

“For most of my time thus far, I have been the only person from my country. At the conference in Switzerland of 80-90 people, there were people from 26 different countries including a few Americans. Among the young adults there were 10 countries represented, I was the only American, and seven countries in my small group. I have really enjoyed these times of getting to know people from all over the world. It helps me gain a wider perspective on life, to not be so boxed in within my own culture, to be able to see past it and that there are many ways of speaking and living. By knowing and appreciating other people’s cultures, it has helped me see the light and dark sides of my own.”

“What are one of the major differences between European and Western American culture?”

“Most people in European cities take public transportation whereas in Oregon, we drive most places. This affects so many things! For instance, there are no car parks. The whole time I’ve been in Europe, I have only seen one car park and that was a small one outside Versailles. Most people who do drive park on the street and those cars are really small. Since people have to carry the food they buy, there are many small markets and food comes in smaller packages for easier carrying. I have not seen a single supermarket the whole time.

The houses and flats are also a lot smaller than in America, much more compact. They don’t have the drive to accumulate stuff like many people in my country do, there is no place to put it, and they are much more conscious of how their choices affect the earth.”

“You don’t speak Flemish, German, Swiss, or French. How have you got along language wise?”

“It has been really hard. I liken it to a cat having tape put on its paws. Cats sense a lot through their paws and having that sense taken away is very limiting. It feels like your hands and feet have been tied up as well as a gag over your mouth for you don’t understand the signs either in addition to conversations. Being a speaker and writer, having my career and this ministry based on the English language, this has been particularly difficult. I learned to tune most everything out, all the conversations and all the signs. In Germany I was in a huge bookstore and was not tempted to pick up even one book. This is huge for me as I love reading but all the books were in German so I just tuned them out. Most of my world has been tuned out. I have managed to learn to figure things out and get the gist of what some of the signs say and that has helped. I have also learned to search for someone who speaks English who can help me find my way. This has not been easy to do at times when each of us speaks very little of the other’s language but we usually get the gist across. One word I did learn pretty quickly is the French word for exit, sortie. That was a helpful one to know. Still, I have spent so much time conversing and spending time with people from other countries that it has become a huge treat to talk to someone who speaks English with an accent similar to my own. This gives my ears and brain a break from trying to understand all the different accents! It has been funny standing in lines for the various sights when I find myself next to someone from America or Canada (this does not happen often) who has something near my accent. We are so happy to talk for a few minutes together!”

“Traveling alone cannot be easy while dealing with these challenges. What has that been like for you?”

“Well, first, I am not alone. You are with me everywhere I go. But you’re right, it is hard not having any other human with me on a continual basis for such a long trip. Some people I am seeing in more than one place and that helps but it is a lot of saying hello and goodbye again and again and when there is a problem while traveling from place to place, I have had to find ways to deal with it on my own. I have loved spending time with my European friends and getting to know new ones. At the same time, it can be lonely when you do so much traveling by yourself. It is probably one of the hardest things about this trip.”

“How have you dealt with the loneliness?”

“Blogging on here has helped ease the stress of traveling by myself and hearing comments back on here and facebook helps immensely. If people wanted to support me while on this journey, that is something they could do that only takes a bit of time but gives me great joy. Not being able to communicate much in the countries I’ve been in, I know I can talk and lift my voice up on the internet and it is nice to know I have been heard and to hear back from friends.”

“Do you have any advice for someone traveling in the ministry on their own?”

“Oh yes! Have a few people back home who you can really talk to, be deeply honest with and trust and who are encouraging and loving. Make sure they are people who will respond back to you when you contact them through e-mail or Facebook and that they will be with you when you need to vent or share your frustrations and joys, people who will let you know you are heard and loved. This is what has helped me the most, these friends who help ground me and let me know someone is listening.

Also, if possible, spend time with people you already know from other places. While here, I have had the delight of getting to know better people I have traveled with in Kenya and spoken to in America. Some of these people I am seeing more than once and that helps as well. They have been those I ask for feedback on the talks and they who I rely on for help and companionship while here. In fact, there are not many times on this trip when I am not with someone I have already known or at least met.”

“How about any other advice for people traveling in the ministry in general?”

“Keep investing their time in a relationship with you. Nearly every morning, I read a portion of the Bible and think about what sticks out to me from what I’ve read. We also talk throughout the day and it is your strength I rely on when I don’t think I can go any further. There have been times I have been exhausted with aching legs and back, simply concentrating on putting one foot in front of another, and I feel you pick me up into your arms and carry me where I need to go. Having additional reading to feed me has been very helpful in learning about you. My pastor gave me a book to deliver to someone she knows in England and suggested I read it myself before I meet up with him and my spiritual director gave me the Sunday Missal with reading and reflections from the mass while I’m gone. Spending all this time with unprogrammed Quakers when I am used to a more structured style of church, these tools have been important. I also have been keeping a journal, not even necessarily about the trip, just things I need to talk out with you.”

“What have you been learning spiritually?”

“A huge lesson came yesterday as I was standing in line for the Louvre Museum. This is usually a line people try to avoid but it turned out to be one of my favorite moments in the whole day. On my ipod was a song I used to sing in youth group when I was in high school, a song I love, and I was reading the book Peggy gave me to deliver. What the author says has given me a lot to think about, and really, would be a whole blog post in itself, but in this interview, I’ll say it has taught me a new level of freedom living in your world, in your love. Instead of trying to learn how to do things better, I’ve been learning to live and love and BE and things another spiritual director once told me I see in greater clarity. I also learned that the sight seeing, the exploration and expanding of my mind and perspectives is also part of my work as a traveling minister. Realizing that made my time looking around a lot less stressful, more joy-filled and more relaxed. I also learned if you are standing in line trying not to cry for the truth of it all, people are too busy taking pictures of the building to notice.”

“What are you really glad you brought with you?”

"There are a few things I usually bring with me when I travel such as my watch, alarm clock, and Rick Steves backpack. However, there are a few things that have come with me for the first time that have made a world of difference. One of these is my ipod. I usually only listen to it on the long distance trains, when I’m alone, or waiting in a line, so at other times I can be aware of my surroundings and with the people I came to see but it is my comfort object. It is what gives me familiar sounds and feelings in a foreign land. I also bought the inside bags for the Rick Steves backpack and I am never traveling without them again! These three bags, one large, two smaller, make living out of a backpack so much easier, I cannot tell you just how much. Things stay organized and I am so glad I bought them. My daypack is another bag that is exactly what I needed. My cousin’s friend makes these and we made a barter deal for this one. Inside are many pockets, large and small, and as the trip has gone on, each thing in the bag has found the place it goes back to. I love this bag! It is my nearly constant companion wherever I go. The last item I cannot even imagine I was going to travel without is my netbook. A netbook is a small laptop with a ten inch screen and limited capabilities, light and compact. Realizing how much writing I had to do while on the trip, I wrestled with the decision of purchasing one to bring along and I have used it every day. It has not hindered me experiencing where I am at but has helped me stay organized, in touch with people, and has helped expand my writing time to you all ten-fold. Yay for netbooks!

There is also a whole other category of things I have that mean a great deal to me. In the last few days as I was preparing to leave, a few of my friends gave me small gifts to take along. My spiritual director gave me the Sunday Missal, as I’ve already said, another friend knitted me hand warmers and yet another gave me a pair of gloves. One friend gave me a pair of earrings I never have to take out and one gave me a blank journal. Two of the necklaces I brought are also gifts I’ve been given in the past along with a fuzzy pair of purple socks for comfort. One friend gave me a massage the day before I left and that has stayed with me too. With these items as constant reminders, I feel the love of my friends all around me, buoying me up as I’ve walked this journey. They are like warm hands placed on my heart.”

“Tell us about the talks you have been giving.”

“So far, I have spoken about Spirit Rising at Watford Friends Meeting, Der Haague Friends Meeting, and at the Friends House in Paris. In Watford I also spoke to the youth about Freedom Friends Church and evangelical Quakerism in my area and in Switzerland, I spoke about my passion for writing and about being honest with your readers. My next talk is speaking on a poetry panel tonight at the Quakers Uniting in Publications Conference in Birmingham, England. All these talks have gone well and people really enjoy hearing about Spirit Rising and my experiences as a writer. Giving these talks have been my favorite part of the whole trip! I usually start out by telling people about the book, how it came about and our process of putting it together. I then read a few pieces aloud, always including the poem describing the process of our editorial board working together cross-culturally, The Journey Worth Taking, and the story, Phish Food. I read Phish Food because I can always make an audience laugh whenever I read that story and I love to make people laugh.”

“You’ve been very busy. When do you breathe?”

"On the trains. I breathe and relax on the trains and they have quickly become hours I look forward to because I know that for a while, I can get lost in my own world. I work on my writing, look out the window, read a book, or just listen to my ipod. I also have the sense when I am on a train that you are bringing me to the next place you want me to be, that this is your itinerary and you know whose lives need to be blessed as I go along. Like a sower of seed, I walk through fields scattering your love and the deepest truth of you and when I am done, you take me to the next field. I know I won’t see what happens to the seed, but I don’t need to. I’m quite happy to be the one scattering them about and then stepping onto the train to head to the next field. I am hoping there will be a trail of flowers and life I leave behind.”

“Do you miss home?”

“No. I miss that face-to-face time with people I love to talk to instead of having to use e-mail or Facebook and I miss meaningful touch but that is it. I am in Europe and my mind is here, my thoughts are here. I am living in this moment, this time and place. This is the work I am given to do. For now, this is my life and I am happy in that.”

“Are we going to be seeing more blog posts from you?”

“Most definitely and far more often! The first half of the trip has been very different from the second. The first half had many days when I was out and about from morning to night and the second half I am free for many of the evenings and on trains much more often. This gives me a lot more time to write which is great because I have several good blog posts on the way.”

“Where are you going next?”

“I am heading to London for a few hours to tour Friends House and see friends who work there and then I’m taking a train north to Birmingham for the Quakers Uniting in Publications Conference. I’m looking forward to the writing workshops and specified writing time. I also hear the grounds are beautiful. It should be a rich time.”

“Thank you for the gift of your time. It’s been interesting to talk with you as it always is. I love hearing what is on your mind and I’m sure our readers will as well.”

“Thanks for the great talk God. I always love confiding in you, you really listen and ask good questions. And I’m really glad you’re on this journey with me. You absolutely fascinate me with all you’re teaching me. If I could ask one thing, please use me to bless those around me. Let them feel you inside of me. That would be to me great joy.”

And so our traveling minister continues to walk the world, praying the message I have given her is somehow communicated to wherever she is being sent. I know for a fact she would appreciate your continued prayers and occasional messages as she begins the second half of her journey. I am with you all.

How the Lion Learned to Roar

2011-04-22T12:11:00.000-07:00

I was sitting tonight in business meeting as the Europe and Middle East Section of FWCC made nominations for the needed committees while we’re here in Herzberg, Switzerland. It’s often interesting to see how other Quakers besides my own meeting do business as my meeting is, admittedly, of a different variety, particularly as it relates to time and business conducted. Our meetings tend to be very simple, straightforward and as many of us were not brought up Quaker, they are pretty quick as well. One day, our pastor hopes we will have something truly controversial to discuss to see how we handle it, controversial being a deeply relative term for our church, but as of yet, this has not come to be. So I sit in the business meetings of other groups of Friends, observing the differences and the similarities in relation to what I know.

As an example, here in Europe, when agreeing on an item of business, they say, “hope so” whereas at home we would say, “affirmed”. Not understanding what everyone was saying, I asked my neighbor and she later inquired if I was a new Quaker. I told her I wasn’t but explained that different groups of Friends in America reply in business meetings in different ways. It’s a truth important for us all to remember: the ways we know are not everyone’s ways. We are all different. This has been very apparent this trip.

After business meeting, the clerk ran though the schedule for the next morning. This year, the Europe and Middle East Section of FWCC, the Europe and Middle East Young Adult Friends, and the Executive Committee are all meeting together. I’m not sure of the exact number, but there are over 80 Friends from all over the world here in Herzberg. Some things on our schedules are all together and some are separate. Since I had only seen the Young Adult schedule, I had assumed that the morning session where I will be speaking with four other people from around the world reflecting on four questions was only going to be with the young adults. Apparently not. It’s one of the times when we are all together.

It’s probably a good thing we had a bit of quiet after that announcement because what was going through my head was something along the lines of, “All eighty? All these weighty Friends whom I respect from so many countries? (Breathing.) Okay...” My reaction reminded me, on a somewhat smaller scale, of what I felt in Kenya when I was told I would be speaking first thing in the morning to 1,200 people. With this history, it wouldn’t surprise me if I was first up. Although that can be good when they have no one to compare you to yet! But right on the heels of this first thought came the second. I’ve already spoken to 1,200 people and as Ruth so beautifully whispered to me before I went up that day, “If you can talk in front of them, you can talk in front of anybody!” But more than this encouragement, that morning had already given me strength that changed me forever. Strength I know will be flowing through me tomorrow.

What happened that morning on the drive to the Kenya youth conference, something I have never written publicly about, is a conversation between God and I in the front seat of the van. I was praying for wisdom and that God would supply me with the right words to say and the ability to say them without a translator to such a large audience. I wasn’t nervous about the speaking or even the number of people in the audience, I was quivering a bit inside because of God’s trust in me to speak to so many. But what God told me are words I will forever treasure, words that still bring me to my knees in tears: “You were right.” I knew exactly what was meant. All those times people told me they didn’t see me in ministry, that they wouldn’t put me up in front of an audience, or didn’t believe in my abilities as a speaker, though I knew without a doubt that is what I was born to do, I was indeed right the whole time. God then told me, “Go and take your rightful place,” which filled me with visions of Simba walking up Pride Rock to take his rightful place at the end of The Lion King. I took that microphone that morning with a steady hand, an iron rod of steel strength up my back which has never left. Around my neck was a lion’s tooth hanging on a beaded necklace, a necklace that will also be around my neck tomorrow. A lion is a special image between God and I and I sometimes wear this necklace to remind myself of the truths I’ve been taught.

So tomorrow morning I am going to walk up there to the front of the room and share with them what I have to say. I am going to be strong and courageous for the Lord my God is with me wherever I go, the Mighty Lion who taught this lion how to roar.

Speaking in Kenya at the youth conference

The Road to Herzberg

2011-04-20T15:46:00.000-07:00

So how long do you think it will take before the people here realize they are being blogged about? Most here don't know who I am yet (it won't take long) and don't know I'm a blogger so I'll be able to get away with some things until they do. The house church I go to have never figured it out.

I arrived here in Switzerland tonight from Dusseldorf, Germany after taking four trains and one bus. The bus dropped Marielke and I off on a hillside next to a road going further up a hill. There wasn't anything else there, just a sign pointing to "Herzberg". I wish life was that simple! Being able to follow such complex directions, we started our ascent up into the stars for there were many all around us. It was extraordinarily beautiful. I looked for my dear friend Orion but didn't see him shining his light. Since he was the only constelation I recognized while I was in Kenya, he has become a special friend no matter where I go.

Some of the other Young Adult Friends already here met us partway up the hill and helped us with our luggage. One girl took my backpack, though she may have immediately regretted that choice, for after about 20 meters higher in elevation, I heard her say to the people behind me, "This bag is heavy!" and I shouted back down, "You're telling me!" I'm glad they laughed. It is a heavy bag but it is for five and half weeks of travel and I have multiple copies of five different books in there. (If you are someone I will see during this trip, please buy them. I really would like a lighter bag.)

Finally we arrived at our intended row of lighted windows. (It was dark so I couldn't see much else.) Inside we're several young adults who introduced themselves including people from Russia, Norway, Germany, and Britain. Truth be told, and this is a private confession so don't tell anybody I said this, but I am a little nervous. Walking into a room full of strangers from a diverse array of countries and no one from yours is a little intimidating. But hopefully, you would never know that by looking at me.

Earlier tonight before we arrived they had a worship sharing where they opened up with their hopes and fears for the conference. My hope is I represnet Spirit Rising in a way that honors what we dream of for the book, the reality that it is, and honors all those people who put so much energy into making sure it became a reality you could hold and read. I also hope they like me. I guess everyone is hoping that. My fear is I won't represent the book well or even myself. But fear is not of the Lord and if he called me here, he has equipped me to meet the task! Just as Martin Luther put it so well, "Here I stand. I can do no other."

One Young Woman came up to me while I was in one of the main rooms and introduced herself as someone who contributed to Spirit Rising. I asked her which piece she wrote for the book. Having read it four times, I recognize many of them if described. When she told which it was, I had to smile and I shared with her that her piece was one of the ones I regularly read to groups when giving a presentation about the book. (That was fun to tell her that!) For those of you who have heard one of my presentations, it's the poem about silence.

Coming to this conference marks a definate change on this trip. Up to now, I have only been in front of an audience for a few hours at a time but now I will be representing the book to international Friends around the clock for the next couple of days. This is more demanding and involves better self-care. On the upside, it will also give me more time to write here.

It will be very interesting to see what happens tomorrow.

(I apologize for any misspellings. I have tried my best to spell words correctly but the back up spell checker thinks I speak Swedish since I'm in Switzerland. It is certain nearly all the words are spelled wrong.)

Miles to Go Before I Sleep - Part 3

2011-04-19T00:06:00.000-07:00

It is Sunday morning and Vivian and I have to catch the train to Der Haague for meeting. As breakfast went a bit long, we booked it to the station (walking very fast). Blessedly, Vivian is a gentleman and took my bag for me leaving me with my smaller bag and sleeping bag Hetty lent me. And though my leg is better now, it is still a very fast walk and my legs are aching from the exercise of the last week. Still, for twenty minutes we hurry along the canal with Vivian apologizing near the end, telling me he has been told he is a very fast walker. I reply, “Yes. You are. But we are in a hurry” and he agrees. I want to stop and God blessedly gives us a reason when Vivian shows me a blue herron from two yards away. " Thank you God for the little break!" I think to myself. After taking a train and then hurrying to a tram, we arrive at meeting a little late but are there in one piece. Afterward, Marielke and I take the two bikes to the supermarket then her flat while Fritz takes my big bag on the tram. After resting (thank you!), they ask if I would like to go the beach. YES!!! What they don’t tell me is that it is over five miles away. (I am sure this was a part of the phone calls in Dutch.) I have never biked that far before and haven’t been on a bike on a regular basis in ten years. I only tell them this later. Occasionally, Marielke or Fritz come along side me in pity and help push me up the hills. (Do not tell this to the other boot camp commanders.) In all, we bike 14.1 miles around Der Hague. Dinner never tasted so good.

Today I can’t even tell you how many miles I have walked between the power walk to the tram and then all around Dusseldorf. I have been learning to just keep putting one foot in front of another and that when they say, "around the corner," they mean several blocks down the street.

So now you too know why weight is such a rare problem here in Europe and why it feels like I’m in boot camp. But I have to give credit where credit is due. Though my friends came up with this fun game of pushing Sarah beyond what she thought she could do, they have been there every step of the way encouraging and pushing and looking behind to make sure I’m keeping up. If not for them, I would have missed trains, taken more breaks, not gone as far, and, truth be told, not had nearly as much fun. A challenge to be certain but one that has been entirely worth it. God has been using the community around me to bring me father than I thought I could go, to do more than I thought I could ever accomplish. It expands my belief in myself. It is helping me understand on a deeper level the value of community: they bring you to more than yourself, or help you know better the strength within yourself. Even the hard parts of ministry can be fun.So, yes, it’s boot camp but I can do it!

(Since each stage gets successively harder, if I don’t come back from Switzerland, please send someone in after me. I’ll be the one panting by the road in a heap, a large red backpack squishing me down.)

Miles to Go Before I Sleep - Part 2

2011-04-18T23:56:00.000-07:00

Delft is a beautiful town and the village just outside of it, Den Hoorn, is a lovely little village. The day after I arrive, Vivian lends me a bike and we bike from where he lives in Den Hoorn to the train station in Delft. Though we get on the same train (translation: so I could get on the right one), he gets off in Leiden and I continue on to Amsterdam where I will be spending the day. Amsterdam’s main city center is a spider web of canals radiating out from the train station. It’s quite extraordinary. On my list are three places I really want to see and wouldn’t you know it? They are in three very different places along the spider web of canals. But today I decide to save my feet. I spot a hop on/hop off canal tour that has four lines going through the canals and you can get off at various spots to go see things nearby. It was the canal ride for me. Best euros I've ever spent. I’m not even sure I would have been able to see all three places without it. (What those three were is for another post.) Heading back to Den Hoorn, I managed to find the right trains but got lost bicycling in the village. A group of older folk saved me on this one as they lent me a phone to call Vivian. I learned enough to have his phone number on hand but not his address. Go figure.

The next day was a simple matter of walking, trains, and biking which by this point, I was used to. I think that is when my friends made some secret phone calls in Dutch and decided to see just how far the American can go. And so a new week in European boot camp began.

Miles to Go Before I Sleep - Part 1

2011-04-18T23:51:00.000-07:00

Many people have wished me well on this trip and commented on what a wonderful time I must be having and indeed I am. Just last night I got to watch the sun set over the rooftops of Dusseldorf, Germany and it was a beautiful sight. The talks so far have gone very well and Friends here have been very welcoming and kind. However, on a trip like this, there are also times of stress and of striving to meet difficult challenges when you want to stop and take a break. There are times when you are tired, at your end, and wounded. This too, is a part of traveling in the ministry and also, an important one to talk about. Adjusting to a different way of life can sometimes take more than you think you have. Coming from an area where people usually drive to get where they want to go, the physical demands of being in Europe has probably been the most difficult for me thus far, not to mention getting where I need to go while not understanding the language. Thus, I wrote this post to honor the difficult parts we all have when traveling in the ministry. It is probably the part I will learn from the most.

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So, you all want to know what Europe is like. I’ll tell you. Boot camp. It’s just like boot camp, except with better food. Even after just nine days, I have been put through the paces and I now know why seeing an overweight person is an extremely rare sight in Europe.

I am beginning to suspect the friends I am staying with got together and planned this out before I arrived because boot camp has come in succeeding stages, each calling for more endurance and energy than the last.

When I was staying with Simon, they went relatively easy on me. After all, I was a very green recruit and they opted to break me in gently. Simon had a car so he picked us up and dropped us off at the train stations. However, I still had to manage the tube as my first challenge. You may be thinking, “But Sarah, even I know the tube is the name for the underground trains in London. How strenuous is it to sit on a train?” If you are asking that question, you have obviously never been to London. Yes, it is pretty easy to sit on the tube but you have to first get to the tube and getting to the right tube station and then the right platform involves a maze of tunnels, stairs, enormous escalators, and lifts. Then once you are in London, you are on your feet the whole time and the city is extensive. I can’t even imagine how many miles I walked in London alone.

When I went to stay with Hetty, things got a little harder. Hetty lives about a fifteen minute walk from the nearest tube station. The neighborhood in Tufnell Park is quite beautiful but Hetty had to draw me a map so I could figure out all the turns to get to her flat. So now I had the walk to and from the tube plus the tube plus walking around London. Doing that is when I strained a muscle. (At least, that is what I am guessing I did.) Wounded, but I survived Stage 2.

At this point, they up the ante a couple of levels for Stage 3. I wish they didn’t have such faith in me and my level of endurance. Let me tell it to you from the perspective of working through it:

First, with the heavy weight of my bag (and I thought I packed pretty light!) on my back, I walk to the tube, catch the Northern Line to St. Pancreas Train Station, find my way through there, get through the border checks and onto the Eurostar which takes me to Brussels. Now, for the second time in my life, first time on my own, I am in a country that doesn’t speak my language and all the signs are either in French, Flemish, or Dutch, none of which I understand. I manage with some Euros my mother gave me to get change for the loo, use the loo, then find the section of the station for the Metro. Finding people who speak a bit of English, I manage to get on the right one, then make the correct transfer. From there I have to find my way to Friend’s House though fortunately, I had looked at a map of the location in the US so I find my way. Still, carrying all my stuff makes this quite a bit more of a challenge and by the time I arrive at Friends House, I drop my stuff on the floor and sink down into a chair while John hurries to the sink for a glass of water to revive me which I gratefully accept.

After walking around Brussels, I reload my bags onto my back and set off for the grueling trip to the Netherlands. First, I take the wrong street and so have to ask for help to find my way to the station. Then, instead of simply reversing what I did that morning, I have to find a different station. Ideally, this will be easier but I don’t know the language and I have no sense of direction in this city. Two people tell me this is the right Metro, one person says it is not. I go with the majority. The majority is wrong. So now I am on the wrong train with no map of the metro trying to find my way back with all the signs in Flemish. By now, if not quite a bit earlier, people can hear the desperation in my voice. With their help, I find my way to the right station, and after a time, the right train to Delft. Now you think my stress would be over, but no, there are two stations in Delft. Which one am I supposed to be at? I decide on the main one but my friend is not there to meet me. Did I choose the right one? Should I find a train to the other? By this time I am an inch from sitting down and crying. This is quite stressful! I neglected to write down his address and phone number, it’s in my e-mail which I do not have access to nor do I have a phone. I sit down on a bench, put my stuff beside me, and take a shaky breath. Deciding to try for internet anyway, I find you can pay for internet. Though expensive, I decide it is worth it and I get the phone number then call my friend on a kind man’s phone. When my friend comes to get me, he asks how I am doing and that is when the tears finally win the battle. Wisely, he takes my bag from me and we walk home and he and his wife feed me. It seems I hit the wall after 5-7 days in boot camp of the foreign country variety, typically after a stressful day trying to get somewhere on my own. I know from past experience, it gets better from here. And, after all, I did manage to get myself from Hetty’s to Vivian’s passing through three countries so I am rather proud of myself. However, little did I know this was just the test that would launch me into Stage 4 of European Boot Camp.

How Small a World is It?

2011-04-18T23:26:00.000-07:00

John and I had arrived back at the Friends House in Brussels after he showed me around the Grand Place and nearby environs. Paul, who had not been at his desk when John had introduced me around to the staff that morning stood up to greet me and when he found out where I was from, he said to me, “Let’s find out just how small a world this is. Do you know this person? She is from Oregon too and I’ve been reading her blog about a trip to Africa she took last year. A friend of mine went too but she had a lot more information.”

I ask, “Has she changed the background?”

“Yes, she has changed it recently.”

“That would be me.”

“Wow! It IS a small world!”

By this time, the whole office is cracking up. It’s a small world after all.

You Know this Painting?

2011-04-16T15:17:00.000-07:00

"What did you say about that painting, Simon?" I ask from across the small wooden gallery.
"It was painted here."
"REALLY?"
"You know this painting?" he asks in surprise.

"Of course!" Hugh and I exclaim together.

I join them over by the stairs for a closer look. I know the painting well but I have never stopped to look closely at the architectual details but when I do, my jaw drops to the floor. It WAS painted here. Oh my gosh. Are you kidding me? How amazing is that? All the details are there, down to the spindles on the back of the bench. Simon suggests going downstairs for a picture and that perhaps, when we develop the film, Christ will be seen standing beside us.

Hugh, who is from Ireland, Emily, who is from London, and I take our places on the facing bench looking out into the room just like in the painting, trying to look worshipful while grinning inside. After taking the photos, we actually do sit there for a while in quiet before heading outside, to take in and try to hear the voices of all those who had worshiped there throughout several centuries including many of George Fox's original followers. It felt rather like stepping through some magical doorway into a world you have only dreamed about but is now very real.

Being one of the oldest meeting houses, just think of all the words those walls have heard. At the time we were there, there was a talk going on in another room about how a building is infused with what has gone on within it, that there is an unseen memory. What kind of memory does Jordans Friends Meeting have? To me, it felt sacred, hallowed, as if I was entering into a larger circle of living fellowship beyond what my hands could grasp. The Friends there must feel the same way because that belief is illustrated in how they laid out their graveyard. The gravestones may be very simple, but the truth they stand for is simpler still, yet it reaches down to the depths of living testimoney.

The gravestones are set up as in meeting, the people burried there are still listening to the voice of God. Alive in a deeper sense than we are, we sat with them in meeting, hoping to catch a bit of what they were hearing, the words that were transforming them so they might transform us too. Can you imagine the reality they live in? They are listening to God far better than we. Seeing the gravestones like that tells me that death doesn't stop us from being in God's presence. It doesn't stop their community nor the holding of their light together. They may not be present in the meeting house as they are pictured in the painting, gone from the building and moved outside, but they left behind truth and love that will never leave, that you can almost sense around you when you sit where they have been.

They may be there in the graveyard, but the truths of their lives rise far above the grass that covers them, it goes on sharing with us that we are all in a cirlce, a community going far beyond denomination, beyond being Quakers, reminding us of a deeper commonality of all being in relationship with God and thus in relationship with each other, smaller circles inside larger circles. Maybe if someone painted us in the graveyard, they could paint all the people sitting in the circle with Christ in the center, smiling at this wide community of friends.

Learning the Language

2011-04-14T12:39:00.000-07:00

British English versus American English are two different languages. On top of pronouncing words differently we use different words for the same things. My first few days in England were partially spent learning and getting the hang of these words and learning to understand the British accent. Here are several words I have learned to use.

Queue – A line

Loo – Bathroom or restroom

A lie-in – Sleeping in

Uni – University

Tely - Telivision

Biscuit - Cookie

Tea – English Tea, usually with milk and sugar

Discovering God Through the World of Harry Potter

2011-04-14T12:37:00.001-07:00

After visiting London for several days, I have a whole new appreciation for Harry Potter. In America, the whole world of the wizarding world is fantastical with a whole new language and ways of doing things. But it is not like that in England. For British readers, it is their world, a culture based off their culture. They know what boarding schools are like and they know the tests the O.W.L.S. are based off of. They can picture Kings Cross in their mind and what it’s like to walk the London streets. They know the kind of house Harry would live in. Coming here has felt a little like entering Harry’s world at times, seeing and experiencing things I’ve read in the books and seen in the movies. Attending the football game, I now understand far better the spirit of Quiditch and what it means to the wizarding community. Though I couldn’t understand the last three syllables, at one point the crowd chanted nearly the same thing they chant in the movies, “Go! Go! Gryffindor!” Other things that gave me a better understanding of the stories were seeing King’s Cross Station, ordering something off the trolley on the train, seeing and being inside a British house, and feeling the panic of finding the right platform when you know the train is coming soon.

This is one of the things I like best about travel. Stories I have only heard come alive before my eyes. Having just seen pictures, I am now inside of them, from a flat image to objects you can touch and feel, scents you can smell, chairs you can rest in. From hearing about King Henry VIII to walking in the rooms where he lived, from hearing about the Romans to seeing their walls, coins, and sculpture. By experiencing these things, my world widens; I have a wider perspective and things in my own life are brought into a better balance. My images of God are broken as well. We tend to place God in the culture where we live but when we see other cultures, we see new reflections of the one we worship, new lights to mix with our own. We enter into the story of the one we love on an ever deeper level, letting it become ever more real to us. By moving beyond whatever boxes we are in, whether through travel, making a new friend, or trying a new experience, it can be like stepping into a whole new world and understanding it a little better. It feels rather magical to me.

Loose in London

2011-04-14T12:35:00.000-07:00

I’m writing this while on the Eurostar, traveling from London, England to Brussels, Belgium. At the moment, we are traveling in the tunnel underneath the English Channel. Having researched the other options, this is by far the easiest way to travel to the continent from London.

The last several days have been extraordinarily full but I expect the pace to slow a bit for a while so I will be posting more often. To catch you up, I landed in London last Saturday morning. The flight was very smooth and I had no problem at the border though I had to wait in the longest line I’ve ever seen to get into the country. Simon, George, and Hugh came to pick me up and took me back to Simon’s house where we and some other young Friends talked in their garden. In the afternoon, we walked to the local stadium to watch the Watford Football Team (soccer for you Americans) play Hull. We lost by one goal but I loved watching the game. It’s different than watching sports in America. The team supporters have chants and songs they all sing together and there is much more of a community feel to the games versus in America where the teams are supported here and there. At least, this is how it is where I am from. Also, the stadium is right in the middle of the city with houses and shops bordering the stands. There is no car park (parking lot) around it. You park on the street, take a bus, or walk. Many walk. After a game, the streets around the stadium are packed with people walking home.

In the evening, Emily and Hugh from last year’s Quaker Youth Pilgrimage stayed over night and some Friends from Watford meeting came over for dinner. I met Simon, Hugh and Emily when I spoke to the group about Spirit Rising and my trip to Kenya. Emily is from Wimbledon, south of London, and Hugh is from Dublin, Ireland. It was a fun reunion!

Sunday morning we all went to Watford Monthly Meeting. After fifteen minutes of worship, Simon, Emily, Hugh, and I left with the youth group to another room where I spoke with them about my own monthly meeting, Freedom Friends Church, and evangelical Quakers in general. Simon thought it would be interesting for them to hear about other ways of being Quaker. It was nice to have Emily and Hugh there as they could also share their experiences of Quakers in the Northwest. After meeting, I gave a presentation on Spirit Rising for which most people stayed. It is, I believe, the smoothest presentation I have given thus far on the book and this reassures me as I am giving it many more times in various forms. Hugh thought it went really well and told me it was just as interesting the second time around as when he first heard it last summer.

In the afternoon, Simon drove us out to Jordans Friends Meeting but as I am writing a post telling you of our visit, I will not go into it here. Afterward, Simon dropped the three of us at the train station and we took a train into London to walk around Kennsington Gardens. After stopping for ice cream, we walked around seeing the Elfin Tree (a tree with little elves carved out of the wood), the Prince Albert Memorial, the Siene Lake, and after asking around, we finally found the Peter Pan statue commemorating where James Barry wrote his classic story. Afterward, Emily headed home and Hugh and I headed back to the Colbeck’s for dinner.

On Monday morning Simon came with me into London to see some of the shts. At the British Library, we viewed some of the greatest written treasures of Europe. There were original scores handwritten by Handel, Beethoven, and Schubert, a handwritten manuscript of Jane Eyre, scientific notes of Leonardo Da Vinci and Charels Darwin, Bibles and fragments from throughout the last 1,800 years, Jane Austen’s writing desk, and King Henry VIII’s prayer scroll among many, many other priceless treasures.

Our next stop was St. Paul’s Cathedral but on the way, I asked Simon if we could stop off at Kings Cross Station. Asking why I would want to stop there, I replied with no little delight, “Platform 9 3/4!” It is at this point, I got a look along the lines of, “Think you’re being funny do you? There is no such place.” I assured him there was, that it was from Harry Potter, and though he didn’t believe me, even asked if I was sure it wasn’t St. Pancreas Station, I told him I was sure it was at King’s Cross. Still skeptical, we asked one of the attendants and instead of also replying, “Think you’re being funny do you?” he blandly answered, “Down there, left then left” as if he said this a hundred times a day which I am sure he does. Shocked that I was telling the truth, we found the platform and Simon took a picture of me pushing the cart through the wall. With renewed respect for my knowledge of what is in London and assured I wasn’t crazy, we took the tube to St. Paul’s.

Simon opted to wait outside and take a nap in the garden as he had arisen early that morning to take Hugh to the airport. I meanwhile, walked up the steps upon which was filmed the famous Feed the Birds scene in Mary Poppins, a movie I grew up with so this moment alone was special to me. Entering the church, I realized I actually had no idea what it looked like inside, I had only seen pictures of the façade. But let me tell you, it is extraordinarily beautiful with all the paintings and mosaics. It is very colorful and serene at the same time. After seeing the main floor, I took the stairs to the Whispering Gallery, then all the way up to the top of the dome, 528 steps for which I have been paying ever since. It was worth it. After a quick walk through the crypt and a purchase of a photo book (you aren’t allowed to take your own as it would disrupt people’s worship of God), I met Simon back outside and we walked north to the Museum of London.

On our way, however, we saw a gate into a public garden that is in the middle of a block surrounded by buildings. Venturing inside past a pond of large oranger fish, there was a memorial to dozens of people who have died in London sacrificing their life for another, many by trying to rescue someone from a burning house or drowning in a river saving someone from that very fate. Each plaque had the name, often an age, and how they died. It was a very moving place to be and we spent a while there just reading about the lives that were lost.

The Museum of London wasn’t on my original list of places to see, but it soon became one of those unplanned delights. The museum explores the building of London from prehistoric times straight through the present day. Many of the displays are interactive. In the medieval display, I picked a character then made a series of life choices for her, to see what would happen. I had basic schooling and then apprenticed myself to a dressmaker. I then chose to marry the baker who was happy to take me as a wife. Later in the museum we saw a bakery and Simon said that must belong to my husband. You could also answer trivia questions about the different trades and touch pictures in “water” to find out what they were and what will happen if you get sick by ingesting them. I loved the museum.

From there, Simon and I split ways for the evening. He headed home and I headed to Trafalgar Square for a quick bite to eat and to see the show, “Billy Elliot” with Emily who met me there. The show was brilliant! It was fun to see music I had only heard performed on stage and to understand the songs in the context.

Tuesday morning I headed over to Hetty’s flat in Tufnell Park. After sharing tea with her, I headed off to Camden Town and she headed to Uni. The night before, my nose ring had come out without me noticing and Hetty suggested Camden Town as a good place to buy a new one. Wow. She wasn’t kidding. I had so much fun walking around and looking at the market that it took a while before I got back on the tube to go see the National Gallery and the National Portrait Gallery. These are both art museums, the portrait gallery being only notable figures in British history and the National Gallery being art throughout the ages. There were several times I turned a corner in the National Gallery and came face to face with a painting I knew and I would gasp and stand there thinking, “This is the original. Wow…” Van Gogh’s sunflowers, the famous one of Lady Jane about to be beheaded, and Monet’s bridge over his water lily’s were several of them. My two favorites in the Portrait Gallery were the paintings of Jane Austen by her sister Cassandra, and one of the Bronte sisters painted by their brother. I then saw the church nearby, St. Martin in the Fields, and sat for awhile listening to someone practicing on the pipe organ.

On my way north, I walked up Charring Cross Road, ducking into high quality used bookstores, to simply admire what they had on the shelves. To end my sight seeing day, I enjoyed a spaghetti dinner outside and then attended “The Wizard of Oz” at the London Palladium across the street. It was a great show and seeing Michael Crawford and hearing him sing live was an experience in itself. At one point when he was playing the wizard, he sings loudly, “GO!!! AND OBEY!!!” He sang that very “GO!!!” in Phantom of the Opera too. Andrew Lloyd Webber was also in the audience I hear. He is the one who created the show. When I got home that night to Hetty’s, we stayed up and talked before heading to bed.

By this point, since I had been covering a lot of ground, I was tired and ready for a more relaxed day. I started the day by having a lie-in (sleeping in) until nine then joined Hetty and her roommates for tea and toast before getting ready and taking the tube and a train out to Hampton Court Palace. There I walked around William and Mary’s apartments and the rooms and great hall of Henry VIII. I also got to explore the kitchens and look out at the gardens. After seeing Henry VIII’s rooms, I was going into the Georgian Aparttments when I saw Henry VIII himself walking down the hallway toward me with one of his wives then turn down the staircase. It was a surreal experience.

Rejoining Hetty at home and having a sit-down, we then took the tube to Westminster Friends Meeting to take part in their service then afterward, several of the young adults went to a café a few doors down for tea and dinner. Among the party was Pete, one of the contributors to Spirit Rising and Jez with whom I traveled in Kenya. Jez will also be going to the conference in Switzerland next week.

It’s been a full schedule and I’m enjoying having a few quiet hours on the train, in one place where I can write for a while. If you’re praying for me, please pray for my legs and feet. They are tired and sore while they get used to all this walking. Believe me, there is a lot of it.

And So It Begins...

2011-04-09T11:03:00.000-07:00

As I write, I am flying thirty-five thousand feet in the air. One hundred years ago, this was beyond people’s perceptions. If they saw a plane flying, they would assume it was falling through the air. Not possible! Earlier this week I met with my friend MaryKate who has known me for years and we sat together marveling at how I’ve grown over time into someone who would be going to Europe on a speaking tour. We found this quite funny. Neither of us could have imagined such a thing. But God can make incredible things happen we would not otherwise expect. Like being on a plane to Europe flying thirty-five thousand feet in the air starting on a journey.

A few weeks ago at the beginning of another journey, I attended mass at my favorite Catholic church on Ash Wednesday in the town where I live. The room is spacious and filled with light that streams through beautiful stained glass windows. My favorite icon hangs in the front of the sanctuary and there is a font of holy water in the back. In the midst of planning for this trip, I needed the liturgy, the worship on my knees. I needed the hymns, the candles and the Word. What really made me think though was the priest’s homily. He asked us if we were going to journey through the advent season like a tourist or like a pilgrim. A tourist sees the sights, takes some photos and buys a few souvenirs while spending too much money in hotels and restaurants that actually shield them from the place and the people they have come to see. A pilgrim on the other hand, experiences the sights, taking time and space to really notice what is around them, the sense of the room, the way the light filters through the leaves on the trees and they let themselves be changed by that place, by those people. I want to be a pilgrim on this journey. I want to grow and learn and change and have a better understanding of the world around me, of myself, and of God. I want to become a part of it.

When I was first invited to speak at the Quakers Uniting in Publications conference in Birmingham, England, I had no idea a week in England was going to turn into a five and a half week speaking tour through Europe. I am still amazed at how God worked this journey out and to tell the truth, I don’t think it will fully dawn on me where I am going until I am actually there. That is when the reality of it will finally hit me in the face. Thus far, it’s pretty much been a lot of planning, grant applications, and finding the right things to pack.

One thing I am excited about (among the many!) is leading a workshop called “Writing as the Authentic Self.” It’s about finding the balance between expressing who you truly are in your writing and having healthy boundaries. This goes for speaking as well. To be effective, one must be themselves. I recently served as presiding clerk at one of Freedom Friends Church’s business meetings. Our usual presiding clerk, Ashley, needed a Sabbath rest and so Ministry and Oversight asked me to step in for the day. At first, I felt the weight of that responsibility but as I thought about it, I realized the weight I felt was not in the thought of leading the meeting itself, I knew I could do that, but it was in the expectations I thought were placed upon me. But then I realized I am not Ashley. I’m Sarah. And Sarah was the one they asked to help that Sunday. So while deeply grateful for the instructions Ashley left me to use, I brought myself and my own personality into them. We had a reading, we had a few laughs, we had some quiet. We listened to God and to each other. We decided some things, we heard some reports with joy. And you know what? I really enjoyed it, I really enjoyed leading that meeting and getting to use some of my gifts for the benefit of my meeting, as myself, without the expectation of having to be anyone else.

So as I undertake this journey, I am holding to the truth that it is I who has been chosen to speak. And God placed me here to speak and talk and share with Friends in Europe for his own reasons and the qualities and personality I bring to the table are exactly what he wants served. There is great confidence in that. Great confidence he knows that with him, I will do this well, that I have a voice worth hearing. It brings me to tears to know he believes in me like that, to know he is loving me and guiding me, helping me find the courage within myself to take the microphone and raise my voice.

I have had many people ask, “Are you going alone?” And the deep answer is, “No, not really. I am going with God.” I feel his presence around me and I know he is by my side. No, I do not go alone. I am on this journey with one whom I love. Only he could have grown me into this person who can stand in front of an audience and speak with confidence, only he could have made all the arrangements come together in the way they have done to make this journey possible. I know there will be many surprises, many unexpected conversations and experiences. Things will bring me to my knees, whether in joy or frustration I know not, but I am alright with that. It is only on my knees I will be able to bring something of worth to the lives around me.

And so the journey begins.

Being Held

2011-04-08T11:40:00.000-07:00

(This post was started at home and finished at the airport so it says two days until I leave but I am actually about to board the plane.)

"I always thank my God as I remember you in my prayers, because I hear about your love for all his holy people and your faith in the Lord Jesus. I pray that your partnership with us in the faith may be effective in deepening your understanding of every good thing we share for the sake of Christ. Your love has given me great joy and encouragement, because you, sister, have refreshed the hearts of the Lord’s people."

Philemon 1:4-7

Yesterday afternoon my spiritual director commented on how much this trip will change me. When I went to Kenya, another spiritual director said the very same thing. She was right so I'm expecting this one is too. And it has already begun. Preparing to go on a trip like this is an interesting time. I have learned a lot about Europe, about Friends there, and a great deal about myself. This, I am sure, is only a foretaste of what is to come. For example, I have never before fully realized how persistent I am. I can be like one of my favorite dogs, Sasha or Ginger, with a chew toy in my mouth playing tug of war. But let me warn you, you will not get the chew toy. Eventually, you will get tired and let go and I will still want to play. That is how I have been able to fund raise the money for this publicity tour and plan out all the day-to-day details. I have been persistent. I have stuck with it until done or when I have received an answer. I like this about myself. There is strength in that quality and I like knowing my own strength, the power I wield in my hands.

Now that the countdown to the trip has dropped down under the one week mark (two days now), life has been both draining and deeply fullfilling at the same time. Bit by bit, item by item, the to-do list is getting shorter but it has only been by very late nights and very early mornings. I am tired and I am praying I am able to keep up my health since I know my immune system must be running low. I am looking forward to getting on the plane and taking out a book by Robert Bell that I am delivering to a Quaker in England for my pastor.

Yet, this has also been a deeply fulfilling and rich time for me. I feel the love of my friends and mentors deep inside as I prepare the final details, pack the final items. It's been a full week of seeing women whom I deeply admire, trust, and love and whom I know love me. I feel held by them as I go, their hands are upon me, lifting me up. One friend gave me a pair of earrings I won't need to take out, a gift I treasure. The same friend also delivered freshly baked chocolate chip cookies to me after midnight one night while I worked on my computer. Another knitted hand warmers for me and another gave me a new journal. These are reminders of their love, supports I need as I undertake such a large trip with so much speaking involved. They will remind me of the people I love and that inevitably warms my heart in the midst of whatever difficulties arise. Thank you friends.

Follow by E-Mail

2011-04-07T12:22:00.000-07:00

You can now follow this blog through e-mail. By simply typing in your e-mail address in the box on the right and clicking submit, an e-mail of the post will be sent to you whenever I write something new. Thank you for bringing this possibility to my attention Katie!

Traveling Minute

2011-04-05T23:20:00.000-07:00

This is my traveling minute from Freedom Friends Church for the upcoming trip. Among Quakers/Friends, a traveling minute serves as a way of introduction and authentication for someone in ministry as they travel to places in which they may not be known. I am grateful to Freedom Friends for writing this one on my behalf.

March 28, 2011

To Friends gathered in Europe and everywhere,

This letter is a traveling minute on behalf of Sarah Katreen Hoggatt. Sarah is a member of Freedom Friends Church in good standing and we support her in her public ministry. She is a beloved member of our community and is a bright, creative, f/Friend who carries concerns for writing about one’s spiritual journey, supporting a diverse array of voices, and living in a loving relationship with God.

Sarah is traveling to Europe as a member of the editorial board for Spirit Rising: Young Quaker Voices, to speak about the book and writing in general at the annual Quakers Uniting in Publications conference in Birmingham, England, the Europe and Middle East Young Adult Friends Annual Spring Gathering in Herzberg, Switzerland, and Friends meetings throughout Europe in April and May of 2011.

We commend Sarah to you, knowing you may trust the testimony she brings you, and entrust that she will encourage and inspire the people with whom she interacts. Please care for her tenderly and encourage her heart. We request you receive this traveling minute on her behalf and document her service among you under this concern. She will hand carry this minute back to us and report on her experiences. Thank you!

Blessings of peace, love, and joy to you all in Christ Jesus,
Ashley Wilcox
Presiding Clerk, Freedom Friends Church

My European Speaking Itinerary

2011-04-02T09:25:00.000-07:00

I know many of you would like to know where I will be on which days so I have written out my itinerary for you. In all, there are 11-12 talks over the 5 1/2 weeks in addition to all the time I will get to spend hanging out and building relationships with old and new f/Friends. In between all the conferences, meetings for worship, and speaking, I've scheduled sight seeing in the areas I'll be traveling so that of course is included as well.

This schedule is subject to change and I am sure it will (!) although because of all the planning I have put into this, I don't expect it to change that much. Thank you for all the prayers I am sure are going with me.

European Itinerary

April 8, 2011 – Friday
Fly from Portland to London

April 9, 2011 – Saturday
Arrive in London in the late morning. Meet up with several members of the 2010 Quaker Youth Pilgrimage and attend my first British football game in Watford. There will be a dinner at the Colbeck’s with Friends that evening.

April 10, 2011 – Sunday
Attend meeting at Watford and speak about Spirit Rising afterwards. In the afternoon, either explore Hyde Park and Kennsington Palace or hang out with members of the Youth Pilgrimage. (Or both!)

April 11, 2011 – Monday
This is my first “tourist” day in London and Simon will be joining me. It’s a nice way to ease into the trip by having some fun days to explore one place. My plan is to pray at St. Paul’s Cathedral, then take the boat to Tate Britain to gaze at the art. In the evening, I am joining Emily to see a musical in the West End.

April 12, 2011 – Tuesday
This is my second “tourist” day in London and now that I have found my feet, I will be exploring on my own. I’ll start off the morning by being in awe of original works at the British Library then explore the art in the National Portrait Gallery and the National Gallery. I’ll then get outside and walk up Charring Cross Road nipping into the used bookstores. (Yes, for me, this is definitely a tourist destination!) In the evening, I want to go see “The Wizard of Oz” in which Michael Crawford is performing LIVE. Yes, that’s right. I will get to see him perform LIVE! Tonight I’ll be staying at Hetty’s flat.

April 13, 2011 – Wednesday
Today I am off to Waterloo Station to catch the train out to Hampton Court where I will explore the grounds to my heart’s content. Arriving back in London, in the afternoon I will then head toward Charring Cross Station and take a train the other direction out to Greenwich where I will stand over both the Eastern and Western Hemispheres. In the evening, I will be attending the Friends meeting at Westminster.

April 14, 2011 – Thursday
This morning starts really early as I catch the Eurostar shortly after seven to Brussels. There I will meet John at the Friends International Center. We will go out to lunch and then he will show me around the city including the main city square which I understand to be quite spectacular. In the late afternoon, I will take a train to Delft where I will be staying with my friend Vivian and his family.

April 15, 2011 – Friday
While Vivian works, I will take the train an hour north to Amsterdam and explore the Anne Frank House, the Van Gough Museum, and perhaps a canal tour.

April 16, 2011 – Saturday
Vivian will join me today and we’ll explore more of Amsterdam together including taking a bus outside the city to see the Corrie Ten Boom House and then walking along the canals.

April 17, 2011 – Sunday
On Palm Sunday we will be heading to the nearby city Der Hague, the capital of the United Nations. After the Friends Meeting there, I will be speaking on Spirit Rising. Afterwards, we will walk around Der Hague and that night, I’ll be staying with my friend Marielke and her fiance.

April 18, 2011 – Monday
Marielke and I will be taking the train to where she lives in Dusseldorf, Germany. While Marielke works, I’ll be exploring on my own.

April 19, 2011 – Tuesday
Today I will be taking a train south for a day trip to Cologne to explore the city and walk along the Rhine River.

April 20, 2011 – Wednesday
I will continue exploring the Rhine River area in Germany within a day’s trip of Dusseldorf. In the late afternoon, Marielke and I take a train south to Herzberg, Switzerland for the Europe and Middle East Young Adult Friends Annual Spring Gathering.

April 21, 2011 – Thursday
The conference doesn’t actually start until the evening so we will be spending the day getting to know the other participants.

April 22, 2011 – Friday
I am speaking this morning at the conference on my personal testimony, how I live out my faith, using Spirit Rising as the centerpiece. The rest of the day will be spent attending the conference.

April 23, 2011 – Saturday
Today we will be following the conference schedule including working on presentations within our small groups and going hiking in the afternoon with a social evening that night.

April 24, 2011 – Sunday – Happy Easter! HE IS RISEN!!!
We finish the conference in the morning and after lunch, I catch the train through Basel onto Paris where I will be staying for the next few days. Jeanne, the clerk of France Yearly Meeting, will meet me at the train station.

April 25, 2011 – Monday
I am spending the day at the Louvre Museum exploring its galleries and trying to figure out why Mona Lisa’s smile is so intriguing. In the late afternoon, I’ll take a boat tour on the Siene.

April 26, 2011 – Tuesday
This is my ambitious day touring Paris. I’ll start out exploring the neighborhoods along the Siene then reverently walk through Saint Chapelle and Notre Dame Cathedral. I then am longing to see Opera Garnier, the setting for The Phantom of the Opera. After that, I will see the Place de la Concorde where all the aristocrats got beheaded during the French Revolution then walk along the Champs-Elysees, a main street in Paris leading to the Arc de Triumph where I will overlook the city. To end the day, I will ride up to the top of the Eifel Tower. In the evening, I may be meeting with some of the Friends there (with the help of a translator!).

April 27, 2011 – Wednesday
Versailles is the highlight of the day, the opulent palace outside the city limits. Back in Paris, I will seek out the treasures of the Orsay Museum and the Rodin Museum, a museum dedicated to my favorite sculptor. In the evening, I may attend a ballet.

April 28, 2011 – Thursday
This morning I take the Eurostar back under the English Channel to London where I will tour Friends House in London, saying hi to my friends there, and then take the train up to Woodbrooke in Birmingham for the Quakers Uniting in Publications Conference. I am meeting up with Ben Pink Dandelion for tea and then the conference starts that night. For the first plenary session, I am on a “Panel of Quaker Poets.”

April 29, 2011 – Friday
Today the conference continues with workshops, free writing time, and afternoon tea.

April 30, 2011 – Saturday
After our morning meeting for worship, I am leading a workshop on “Writing as the Authentic Self” a new workshop I am creating. After morning tea, lunch, and afternoon tea, with business in between, I’ll be listening to a panel on publishing and technology with an evening session that night.

May 1, 2011 – Saturday
Today are some fantastic workshops, more writing time, and more tea! After an open mike and dinner, Harriet and I are leading the UK release of Spirit Rising: Young Quaker Voices.

May 2, 2011 – Monday
The conference finishes up this morning after concluding business, tea, and lunch. I then catch a train to the north of England to Ulverston where I will walk to Swarthmoor Hall, one of the earliest Quaker historical sites, also now a bed and breakfast. It is here I will be taking a rest from the road and some time for quiet relaxation and walking.

May 3, 2011 – Tuesday
My only plan for the day is walking in the English countryside.

May 4, 2011 – Wednesday
After breakfast and a lazy morning, I am taking the train from Ulverston to Kendal to see the famous Quaker Tapestries. Carole often used pictures of them in her lectures at seminary so I am looking forward to seeing them for myself. From Kendal I am heading to Burley Park, just outside of Leeds to meet Rhiannon, one of our contributors for Spirit Rising.

May 5, 2011 – Thursday
Rhiannon and I, or just me if she needs to work, will be heading to the village of Hayworth to see the Bronte Museum where the Bronte sisters wrote several of the classics of English literature. Though Charlotte didn’t write Jane Eyre here, the story is one of my all time favorite books. In the evening I will be speaking on Spirit Rising at the local Friends Meeting House in Leeds.

May 6, 2011 – Friday
I am heading out in the morning via train to meet up with Hetty in Manchester. We will be staying with friends of hers in Clitheroe and explore the area together.

May 7, 2011 – Saturday
Today Hetty and I are climbing Pendle Hill, a pilgrimage for Quakers where George Fox saw the flaming sword. A trip like this to England is incomplete without it.

May 8, 2011 – Sunday
Hetty and I are going to meeting in Lancaster where I will be speaking on Spirit Rising. In the afternoon, we are exploring the city before taking the train together back to London where I will stay overnight.

May 9, 2011 – Monday
I’m joining a tour that goes out from London west to Stonehenge and then onto Bath. In Bath, I will depart the tour and head to Christine’s house where I will be staying. I will then spend the rest of the day exploring Bath including the cathedral and the gathering rooms.

May 10, 2011 – Tuesday
I will continue exploring Bath today in such places as the Royal Crescent and the Jane Austen museum. In the evening I am speaking at Bath Monthly Meeting about Spirit Rising.

May 11, 2011 – Wednesday
A morning train is first on the schedule taking me back to London. In the afternoon I will attend a play at Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre and an evening show in the West End.

May 12, 2011 – Thursday
This morning I am taking an early train east to Cambridge to stay with my friend Simon (different Simon than before) and his family. Seeing the colleges there and punting in the canals is on the top of my list for the day.

May 13, 2011 – Friday
After a relaxed morning with Simon’s family, I am taking the train south to Lewes, near the southern coast. George and his family will be waiting for me and will show me around the area.

May 14, 2011 – Saturday
The annual arts festival is going full swing in Brighton so we will be spending the day there walking around and seeing the sights. In the evening I will be speaking to Lewes Friends Meeting about Spirit Rising.

May 15, 2011 – Sunday
The morning will be spent worshiping with Brighton Meeting and then I’ll talk with them about Spirit Rising. After hanging out with George and his family for the day, I’ll head back up to London.

May 16, 2011 – Monday
Today I’ll spend in London seeing anything I have greatly wanted to see but haven’t had the chance and decompressing a bit. In the evening, I’ll catch one last show in the West End.

May 17, 2011 – Tuesday
Fly home to Portland in the morning, arrive late in the evening.

European Speaking Adventure - Answering Your Questions

2011-03-30T13:51:00.000-07:00

Nine days. 216 hours until I step onto a flight bound for London. This blog is about to get a lot more interesting.

Many have asked if I’m excited to go. I am excited. I am excited to see my friends who are from Europe, excited to get to know them better, and excited to get to know many new friends who are Friends. But right now, I am still swimming in the planning stages, trying to take care of those little details that I’ll need in place before I go and taking care of all the things needing to be done here at home before I am able to leave. Needless to say, my nights have been late and my mornings early. But I am looking forward to sharing my passions with Friends across the sea.

To help answer questions of people who haven’t been able to ask them in person, I thought I would take some time to answer the most frequently asked ones as my first post.

When are you leaving?
I am leaving on the morning of Friday, April 8th to arrive in London on the morning of April 9th. I return late in the evening on Tuesday, May 17th. I am gone for a total of 5½ weeks.

Why are you going?
Last fall I was invited to take part in the annual conference of Quakers Uniting in Publications, the group that co-sponsored the Quaker Youth Book Project, to release Spirit Rising in the UK with my fellow editorial board member, Harriet Hart, and to speak on a poetry panel. Since going to the UK is such a big trip from the West Coast of the United States, I contacted several friends and their meetings to ask if they would like me to come talk about the book. The response was so enthusiastic that the trip quickly elongated to the current 5½ week itinerary.

What countries are you visiting?
England, Belgium, Netherlands, Germany, Switzerland, and France. A day-by-day itinerary will be posted before I go.

Have you been there before?
I have never been to the European continent before, at least not outside of the airport in Amsterdam. I did visit the British Isles in 2001 for five weeks including Northern Ireland, Republic of Ireland, England, Wales, and Scotland. For the most part, I am going to entirely different places this time around.

Will you be blogging while you’re gone?
Yes! I am looking forward to posting videos and pictures while I’m gone in addition to sharing my experiences with you through words. In addition to my blog, I will also be posting for The Friends Journal on their website as well as writing two articles for them when I return. To help me with the blogging and photo archiving, The Friends Journal is sending me a Nikon Coolpix to borrow and take with me on the trip.

Are you going with someone?
Yes and no. I am traveling on my own from place to place but will be staying with Quaker friends nearly the entire time. They will be going with me to the talks and acting as elders and cultural translators. On a few of the train trips, a friend will even be traveling with me.

Aren’t you nervous traveling on your own?
No, I am not. Europe is generally a very safe to travel and I have traveled before on my own, in England and Kenya as well as in the United States. Many people speak English there and I will enjoy the cultural experience when they don’t.

Where are you staying?
For the most part, I am staying with friends I have traveled with in Kenya and with participants of the 2010 Quaker Youth Pilgrimage to whom I spoke last summer. For two nights, I am staying at Swarthmoor Hall, a famous Quaker historical site that is now a bed and breakfast up in the north of England for some rest in the midst of all the traveling.

How are you paying for it?
Grants are paying for the majority of the trip including transportation, food, lodging, and my living expenses while I’m gone, among other things, to enable me to publicize the book and talk about writing. These grants include the Obadiah Brown Fund, Philadelphia Yearly Meeting’s International Outreach Grant, Northwest Yearly Meeting’s Youth Opportunity Grant, the Margaret Fell Fund, and generous contributions from The Friends Journal and a few personal friends. I am paying for everything else including any entertainment I partake of while there.

What are you taking with you?
Not much. I am of the persuasion it is best to travel light, easier to get from place to place and less to keep track of, so I like going with one backpack for all my belongings and a day pack to take with me when I go out. This is very doable. I have traveled in this way to the British Isles for five weeks in 2001 and three weeks in Kenya in 2009. I get better at it every time. It is the best way to travel.

What are you looking forward to?
The highlight list is extensive as you can imagine. Besides the obvious highlights of seeing friends, here are some experiences I am really excited about:
• Leading the workshop “Writing as the Authentic Self” at the QUIP conference.
• Meeting Friends from around Europe and the Middle East in Switzerland.
• Attending musicals in London’s West End. (I’m a musical nut!)
• Walking in reverence and awe at St. Paul’s.
• Touring the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam.
• Punting in the canals of Cambridge.
• Speaking on the poetry panel at the QUIP Conference.
• Exploring the Louvre in Paris.
• Climbing Pendle Hill.
• Visiting the Bronte Museum in the village of Hayworth.
• Seeing the bells of Notre Dame.

Thank you all for your encouragement and traveling advice as I have readied for this European Speaking Adventure! I am grateful to have you as my community near and far.

Live the Question

2011-02-11T20:48:00.000-08:00

"You are so young. You stand before beginnings. I would like to beg of you, dear friend, as well as I can - to have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions like locked rooms. Like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot be given to you… because you could not live with them. It is a question of experiencing everything… You need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day." - Rainer Maria Rilke

Ever since a book titled, "Letters to a Young Poet" caught my eye, this quote has been one of my favorites. I hold it close to my heart and have gradually, over the years, been learning the wisdom of it. This has certainly been a time when I stand before beginnings and at times it seems like a wide chasm before my feet. As a single adult, I have heard many times from others how lucky I am to not have a great deal of responsibility, to be able to pick up and move wherever I want. I do admit, it's nice to not have to take into consideration a house or family, but what many who have these responsibilities don't seem to understand or remember, is how frightening a wide world of possibility can be. When you can go in any direction, how do you know which one to take? How do you begin to find your way?

I wish this was a post where I outline the answer, give you the steps on how to find your way. But I have to tell you it is not. I am still "standing before beginnings" myself, not for the first time, but definitely once more. I know what I want, I even know where I might find it, but going from point a to point c can sometimes be far more complicated than going through point b. And sometimes, it is far more simple than we could ever think or hope.

We each wrestle with this question of where is life? Where am I going? What am I supposed to be doing and is this it? For some reason, we see life as this goal we need to achieve, not necessarily the journey we take. We think we have to get somewhere, to reach some kind of marker. And as much as I would love to reach new heights in my career and to do during the day what for years, I have been doing at night, a deeper wisdom urges me to enjoy each day as it comes. Still, I look to the horizon, and shade my eyes so I can see what might be there, just a few steps away.

I do know this: that if you feel called to take new steps, to courageously walk into that horizon, you have merely to put one step in front of another. God gives us strength for today. We can plan for tomorrow, but we need to remember, we are living in today, not tomorrow. And when we do think of tomorrow, we need to take the steps today to get there. God will provide. I don't know how and I don't know where, but I know when. Tomorrow. And maybe someday, if I keep living the question and taking the steps I am given along the way, I will find myself living the answer on some distant day.

Community: Dragon Boat Style

2011-02-10T18:34:00.000-08:00

I think I should write a book and call it, "Everything I Learned about Community, I Learned on a Dragon Boat." "What?" you say, "What is a dragon boat?" followed, I am sure, by the exclamation, "Sarah, you get yourself into the craziest things!" This, I readily admit, is true.

I'll start at the beginning. Several years ago I saw a display of a dragon boat at a local festival called "The World Beat". I was intrigued and I was told you could check out a practice with the team for free. However, I never got around to it and I didn't realize they practiced year round. Then this last fall, my friend Emily posted on facebook to see if anyone wanted to try out dragon boat racing. (Yes, this is the same Emily who got me into Kung Fu. I have since asked her to warn me before she posts anything else.)

To answer your question, a dragon boat is rather like a cross between a canoe and a row boat. Now take that image and elongate it, painting dragon scales on the side while you're at it, and make it long enough to fit twenty people, ten rows of people sitting two by two. Now add a caller in the front and a tiller in the back and you have it- a dragon boat. Now, while keeping that picture in your mind, imagine a group of 12-22 people (we have to have at least ten paddlers to manage the boat plus the caller and tiller) of assorted ages and sizes from young to older adults, all wearing life jackets with a paddle in one hand. They are grinning and they are laughing. They love to paddle. Depending on the time of year, you can also add a very odd assortment of hats on their heads. Imagine the oddest one, and weirdest, for Emily.

When we have enough paddlers, we start by stretching out and warming up our bodies at the top of the stairs at Riverfront Park and we jabber about how we need to recruit more people so we can go out more often. You see, we are the die hard winter paddlers. It's not actually that cold. And it is really fun to paddle on the river in the dark (scaring the geese!). At six, we walk down to the dock, hand out paddles and life jackets for anyone who didn't bring them, and then line up by the boat. Our coach looks us over and decides how she wants to torture us for the night. She starts with the lead paddlers, the ones whose rhythm we watch for the rest of practice. They are in the front. Our middle lead paddlers are, that's right, in the middle. She partners the rest of us up in teams and tells us where to sit.

With our partner, one person gets in the boat and the other stands on the dock holding the paddles. The paddles are then handed over and the second person takes their seat. Once everyone is seated, we take in the bumpers (rubber floats that protect the boat against the dock and our other boat), then close our mouths and listen up.

Guiding this large boat is a big job. That person is called the tiller. Our coach is up in front. You do whatever they say because if you don't, the water is very cold with a strong current and you don't want to know that intimately well. Your default it to listen to the coach but the tiller is the ultimate authority and if they speak, you pay attention only to them. The rest of us? We are a team. We do everything together in one rhythm, ideally anyway, each paddling on our place in the boat.

One of the things I have learned about community is you stick together. One group or people or even an individual does not move out of sync with the others. If you are not paddling and moving your body in rhythm with the others, paddles are going to hit each other and you are going to be pushed up against by the others around you. Unity is the name of the game. You HAVE to stick together if you want to get anywhere.

Another thing I have learned is that while we are all pulling equal weight in the boat, we have our lead paddlers and they set the pace. You watch when their hands move up and down and you make sure you are moving at the same time as they are. It is good to have leaders in the boat. We need them. We need mentors and teachers and pastors and people who will guide.

Don't forget to laugh. That's the next lesson I learned. Whether our coach is reveling in the delight of torturing our team making us do sit-ups in the boat or we're taking a moment to simply enjoy the beautiful surroundings, we love to laugh. One of our current sources of mirth is coming up with a name for our team. We did take a vote but as our coach didn't like any of the choices, she nixed the whole thing. So now we have fun coming up with all kinds of silly names during our practices, "I'd Rather be in the Slough" being one of my recent favorites. We like our team. We like joking around together. It makes practices a lot of fun and between that and being out on the water, these times have quickly become some of my favorite of the week. It reminds me we have to have laughter in our lives. We have to have fun, to delight in the gifts God has given. This is important.

God has given us the gift of the people around us. They are the ones with which we share the boat, the ones we "paddle" with. These are the people who make our "practices" so much more fun. You simply can not make it back to the dock alone. And I learned all that in a boat.

Kung Fu Quaker

2011-01-18T23:24:00.000-08:00

One of my very favorite teachers from high school is absolutely delighted I am with the Quaker church, thrilled I agree that the way to peace is not through violence. Being a Mennonite, we are what you could call peace testimony cousins and she really likes that fact.

As a high school student, I wouldn’t have guessed Mennonite the way she pushed our entire class out the door every Monday morning and into the parking lot for “Dagio taiso!” (Japanese morning exercises that I think are called Radio Taiso, but that is the way I remember her yelling it out, one arm thrust into the air.) If you can picture how much effort it takes to pull 25 high school students out to a parking lot to do exercises on Monday morning with other students watching from the windows above, you may begin to get an idea of how much stamina this woman had, and still has. Add a slight frame and red hair, and you have our beloved sensei (teacher). She was one of those teachers any high school student is lucky to have in their life. Personally, I adored her. And I loved dagio taiso. I thought it was great fun and a great way to live in my body, moving around. Our sensei really liked me.

As a college student and early young adult, I was considered sweet and of the quieter variety. I didn’t push my weight around. (I know, I overcame this later.) So, since I highly disliked hitting people, I thought it a good idea to take a self-defense class while I was in college to learn how to push my weight if I needed to. In a beautiful, naturally lit room overlooking the Quad, I learned how to scream, how to hit and kick, where to go for the vulnerable spots on an attacker, and how to keep an eye out on where I was walking. It was a transformative experience for me, learning how to defend myself and learning I had a voice. I still didn’t like to start a fight, but I felt much better about finishing one.

However, no fighting was ever needed (thankfully!) until one beautiful spring day at a medieval event called Bargamels. Bargamels has a pub theme and was actually my favorite event of the year when I was involved in medieval reenactment. My favorite sport to watch was two fighters in full armor going at each other with swords. We did that a lot. But on this particular day, I was seated in the grass wearing my red dress (an inner black dress and fancier outer red dress) reading a book for the New Testament class I was taking at the time. Nearby, they announced the commencement of the Bar Wench Smack Down. Intrigued, I listened. That was my first mistake. They wanted women of legal age who were willing to hit each other with meat cleavers and other assorted weapons found in a pub. It sounded like fun.

You have to understand, up to this point, I rarely ever participated in something even loosely resembling the word, “sport”. I was the mild-mannered lady-in-waiting. But, sitting there, I thought, “Why not?” That was mistake number two. Mariana, my Baroness, whom I served, was not there. Neither were any of our guards. That was her mistake. No one to keep an eye on Roana to make sure she behaved herself. She would later learn this is important. Multiple times over. That is another story.

Realizing, (I’m a bright one!), I couldn’t kill people in the skirted layers I was dressed in, I removed the outer red dress and joined the queue lining up around the eric where we would be fighting. They explained the rules such as no hitting above the neck as we weren’t in armor, and to be your own judge of a mortal wound. This particular group has a culture of their own where honor and chivalry is highly valued. The fighters I respected had taught me well.

When it was my turn to enter the ring, I chose the meat cleaver. All the weapons were made out of PVC pipe, heavily padded, and covered in duct tape. There were knives, mugs, and even a stool we borrowed from an earlier tournament. You could have a weapon in each hand which was handy as you could then thrust with one and defend yourself with the other. (If your arm was hit, you dropped your weapon and hid the injured appendage behind your back. If it was a leg, you either jumped on one or went down on your knees.) I showed no mercy. I liked to take the arms off first, the legs if I could get at them. I figured if they had one less weapon, it would be easier for me to go in for the kill on the chest. Many a time, I had both of their arms cut off before killing them. It wasn’t long before the other women weren’t too eager to come into the ring with me. One woman took one look at me and asked, “I have to fight her?”

I was having a BALL. The time of my life. I LOVED fighting! It was so much fun to kill people! I could see why all the fighters enjoyed it! That is, I was having fun until one of the guards saw what I was doing and went to get my Baroness. Mariana, who was busy judging the baklava competition, and she loved baklava, came hurrying down the hill and as she told me later, spotted in the ring, me, killing people with a grin the size of Texas on my face, and she cried out, “Is that my sweet Roana?”

Yes, Mariana, it was. Your sweet lady-in-waiting took second place that day in quite a crowd of women. Second place was just fine by me though, since if you took first, you couldn’t join in the smack down again the next year. Second was good. I believe it was the next year I was awarded the prize for chivalry. (Just to defend myself a bit so this post doesn’t completely ruin my reputation.)

Since that time, I haven’t had much reason to fight anyone; although that reputation did follow me around for quite some time in that group. There was one fighter practice to which I went and they said I was pretty good. But I wasn’t interested in the investment it would take to be able to last more than two seconds in a ring with a real heavy fighter. That is, until…

My friend, Emily, recently posted on facebook that she is holding Kung Fu classes in her basement with a teacher from Corvallis. I have now been a part of the Quaker church for over four years. I know the peace testimony but that old saying that, I admit, gets me into trouble, “Why not?” came to mind. I am willing to try most (moral) things once.

I showed up in time to take the first bow. This is where all that Japanese dagio taiso training and language came in handy. (Thanks Sensei!) The teacher had us warm up with some exercises in a squatting position. He showed us how to hold our arms up to defend ourselves. He showed us how to kick. Then he taught us how to move our feet back and forth, side to side and we learned a series of movements put together to defend ourselves against multiple attackers. It was rather like a martial arts dance. My favorite part was when he started teaching us how to pull someone to the ground who is pushing us or grabbing our wrist. I thought that was pretty awesome and I admit, I was pretty enthusiastic about the whole thing.

At the end of the class, the teacher asked me what I thought of the class and why I liked it. I have been thinking about this question ever since. Being a part of a peace church, you would think I wouldn’t enjoy working on learning such skills. But I do, I really do. Something in me loves a good fight, learning how to take someone to the ground if I need to. I would still step out of that red dress and join the Bar Wench Smack Down. (Don’t worry though; I will be out of the country the weekend the event is held this year.) It is a paradox that seems so strange.

I realized while driving today there is a warrior in me. Someone who really needs to know how to, figuratively speaking, use a sword, a meat cleaver. I spent so much of my life stifling that warrior down that when I started letting her out in my twenties, she had a heyday. Now, instead of shying away from conflict, I engage in it. Not to hurt another person, but to reach a good, healthy conclusion. I am learning how to defend myself, how to control the power racing through me, channeling the strength held in my hands. I need to know what it is like to live in my body, to be joined to it in soul and spirit. I need to know that my actions affect the world and the people around me. And learning how to fight in my body helps me find the courage to fight in my soul.

The peace testimony isn’t simply a call to lay down all our weapons and not fight. It is a call to lay down the weapons that maim, that hurt and kill. It is a call to lay down damaging words, harsh actions, and prideful choices. It is a call to pick up compassion and thinking of others. However, the peace testimony is not a call to let others walk all over us. It is not a call to stop sticking up for the passions of God. It is not a call to run away from conflict but to instead face conflict with love and justice evenly yoked in tandem. Better yet, approach conflict with an attitude where you cannot discern where justice ends and love begins.

We can’t afford to ignore the power out-flowing from within each of us. Part of peace is knowing our power to hurt, to maim, even to kill, physically, emotionally, and spiritually, yet instead to choose to use that power to heal, comfort, and teach. If we do not know our ability to tear down, we can never wholly build up.

It’s okay to pick up a weapon! Go ahead! But make sure it’s the right one. God tells us to take up our sword of truth. It is a powerful weapon. We are not to use this weapon flippantly or unwisely. We need to know both the power it can hold and the damage such a sword can inflict. Some of the greatest hurt in our world is done by those who abuse their power or wield power unwisely when they don’t know they have it. (For a great book on this topic, read MaryKate Morse’s book, Making Room for Leadership.)

So can I be a warrior and a Quaker at the same time? A Kung Fu Quaker? I believe so. I don’t see any problem in learning these things. It’s hard to live in the world as a lion when one walks around with the stature of a cat. Learning the right way to punch, how to take someone down, spending time concentrating on the placement of my body and the body of others, helps ground me in the physical world and teaches me how I can better carry myself and my power within that world. In fact, it is downright fun.

God gave us physical bodies to live in and it has surprised me how much I enjoy learning how to be present to the physicality of our existence. It’s an important piece of our lives and one not to be ignored. Maybe this is my way of learning to set physical boundaries after learning years ago I could have the emotional ones. And how can we have peace if we do not respect the boundaries of who each other is? If learning to fight is my way of learning peace, with others and with myself, of knowing my power in a tangible way, then I believe that is a good thing. I think even my sensei would be happy with that road to peace. One punch-kick at a time.

England 2011 - Brilliant!

2011-01-13T23:37:00.000-08:00

(Me in front of the London Bridge in 2001)

Dear Friends,

This last fall I was invited by an organization I am a part of called Quakers Uniting in Publications (QUIP) to speak at their annual meeting on writing and to help release Spirit Rising: Young Quaker Voices, the book for which I have served as an editorial board member and contributor for the last three years. Though the book has been released since last May, the Quakers in Britain are holding a UK release and they would like to have me come and promote it as well as speak to Friends around the area.

Though I loved the idea of this opportunity when Gil, one of the co-clerks, first asked me to come, I thought about the conference and prayed over it for several months. I was, in fact, about to let the idea go due to my tight budget here at home but the idea has never let me go and so I decided to try some doors, to see what would open. First, I renewed my passport since it expired last September and started working on saving reward air miles to help with the airfare. I then talked this opportunity of ministry over with trusted mentors who gave me resounding encouragement and urged me to go to England.

Now things are falling into place. I am discussing with the Quakers in both Britain and the Netherlands where else they could use me while I’m there and the doors are opening one after another, in Lancaster, Brighton, Cambridge, around London, and in The Hague, Netherlands. I am really excited about these opportunities to minister with and spend time with the European Quakers. They are a group with a different flavor than both the Kenyan and US Quakers I have already had the gift of traveling amongst.

When our editorial board worked on Spirit Rising, dreaming of what it could be and do, we hoped the words would not only inspire a person to know God better and to more deeply understand and appreciate the diversity within Quakerism and humanity in general, but that the words would also inspire people of all theologies to discuss with each other the beliefs dear to them and form the difficult yet profound relationships we began between the ten of us editorial board members. We wanted what was birthed among us to grow in the book and come to fruition in the lives of those who read and discuss it. We wanted to see our work continued around the world, that the book would go back to the countries the words came from and spill out from there. This opportunity to go speak in Britain and the Netherlands is a part of that work. We need people in this world who will stand up and say they have done it; they have delved into the painful conversations with people different from themselves and to be honest about how they have been changed by those experiences. If we are to have greater cooperation among our various countries and theologies in this world, we need to hear the voices of those who are willing to say yes, it is hard, but yes, it is worth it. I want to be one of those people. As imperfect me, I want to stand up and help be that bridge crossing those divides and whatever country that ministry is in, whatever culture an audience comes from, that is where I want to be. This is the work I am called to.

In addition to the speaking and intervisition, I am also going to England and Netherlands on writing assignments from Friends Journal and Western Friend. I will be writing articles about experiences such as being an evangelical traveling amongst unprogrammed Friends and another on the QUIP conference. And of course, I will be blogging while I’m there.

Though different Quaker organizations are helping me fund the trip, I still have a ways to go. All told, the trip will cost around $2,200.00 between airfare, transportation, room and board, conference fees, and other miscellaneous expenses such as traveling health insurance, though this amount may grow a bit depending on the travel and time required for the additional speaking ministry. Though this amount takes into account the discount on airfare from my reward air miles and my being hosted by local Friends, this cost is still beyond my budget. I am fundraising through donations and what I can set aside out of my own income though I am trying to squirrel away whatever I can now as I will be missing a great deal of work to do this ministry. I would greatly appreciate any help you could give whether that is financial or holding me in prayer as I undertake this work. You can make out any checks directly to me. Specific prayer needs include guidance as we plan who I will be speaking to in addition to my work at the conference, smooth travel, safety, good health, and most importantly, that the words I bring to these groups are blessed and used by God.

As I said, I will be posting here to my blog as I travel, www.WalkingtheSea.blogspot.com. I invite you to check in with me to see how the trip is going, both in the planning and execution. I will leave sometime in late April and return in early May. Thank you for your consideration in helping me minister in Britain and The Netherlands.

Please contact me with any further questions. I hope you are doing well in the New Year.

Sincerely,
Sarah Katreen Hoggatt

Don't Ask - I Won't Tell

2011-01-13T17:52:00.000-08:00

I have a confession to make. It's not easy to say this-much less publish it to the wide world-but I feel I can no longer continue in secret. Though it doesn't seem harmful now, not opening up about it could be harmful and doing so, may help others who haven't felt free to be open up about their own desires. But I can't stay silent any more. Too many people need to take in what I have to say today. So here we go:

I have been to mass.

Not just a little bit. Not just crossing my chest when I think no one is looking in an alleyway downtown, or sneaking the rosary under my coat in a dark movie theater, but everyday, and for years. The nave itself, has rarely seen me. In fact, before the last two times I've gone, it's been years since I've taken a knee in public. But I have had a long-standing love affair with Catholicism.

It started out innocently enough as all affairs do, a talk with a friend about transubstantiation and consubstantiation. You know, what Sophomores in college usually talk about. This friend brought up some good points and we had a very interesting discussion. She invited me to mass. I went. I felt odd but she was there beside me helping me along on when to kneel, when to stand, and when to say what. It was a crash course in the holy rosary.

Two years later, I was driving with Jesus to rehearsal. I liked Jesus. She was fun, a laugh a minute, and she fascinated me. Jesus must have seen something in me too for she invited me to join her in leading her youth group at St. Mary's Catholic Church and you know how it goes, where Jesus leads, we follow. Jesus, otherwise known outside of our play, Journey to the Cross, as Leonora, (I was the blind man she healed, a disciple she called, and a high priest who betrayed her rolled into one, but that is another whole metaphor for another story), was a gift in my life. I joined her at St. Mary's as an intern and we had a blast. I got to help plan and sit in on all the lessons. I got to know the kids. I got to shoot Lee with rubber bands in the dark on our overnighter. I even went to a tea with the women. I got to learn from her how to laugh at myself.

In addition to being the youth leader in Albany, Lee also worked at the Newman Center, the Catholic student center just off campus. Hanging out with all the Catholics at the Newman Center and playing "Dress Up Jesus" on the Internet became my favorite haunt. We laughed until we cried. We made comfort food in the kitchen and held regular get-togethers. I even took their class on what Catholics believe and why, taught by a local priest. One night we went bowling and competed against the Presbyterian center down the street that I was also familiar with. They called me a traitor. But those times there among the voluminous tomes of Catholicism are some of my very happiest from my college years.

After college, I went and got religion. Well, first I got depressed and then I got religion. (Another longer story.) This religion came in the form of Christian History, a topic so little taught in our world. At seminary, I learned about our church fathers, "Lord, give me chastity but not yet." I learned about the early councils when the church was one. (Ha!) I learned about the Abbas and the Ammas who moved out to the desert when Christianity became acceptable. I learned about those faithful followers of Christ who lived on top of pillars for years on end in faith to God. (Someone should have shared with them the verse about wanting a contrite heart more than sacrifice.) I learned about the mystics, the church splits, I learned about the tree of faith and I learned that Catholics were Christians! I walked the labyrinth and learned about the rosary. I knew the saints and venerated the icons. (Rublev's Trinity is my absolute favorite!) From Carole and MaryKate I learned we are all one, we are from the same family. What is more, I learned I loved the art, the images and pictures, the traditions and practices. I loved the history.

About a year ago, I attended an Episcopalian church and it was an enriching experience. I really enjoyed it. Some of my favorite authors and books have been Episcopalian. Then this last Christmas Eve, I decided to go to midnight mass. Every once in a while, you just need some good liturgy. So I asked my spiritual director what times the services were going to be at (all my directors have been Catholic more or less). I wanted to remember in the midst of the all the Christmas decorations and shopping why we were celebrating. I was thirsty for mass.

Though it was the second time I had been there, I visited that church once years ago, I didn't really know what I was doing. The room was packed, overflowing even, so it wasn't too hard to sit in the back and try to blend in, though I hoped they wouldn't find out I wasn't really Catholic, just a wannabe. But even being an outsider, I felt very comfortable amongst them. My favorite icon hangs in the front on the right hand side, and it has enough qualities of Judaism, the rhythms of worship echo in my heart and make it sing. The next week I went again, still crowded, and I still sat near the back, trying not to let people know I didn't have it all memorized. But I love how they use their bodies in worship, it feels so wholesome, so life-giving.

Really, the protestants left out a lot of great stuff when they "reformed". It's like there having been missing pieces in my protestant spirituality that have been filled in and brought to light as I've engaged in Judaism and Catholicism. While I was at seminary, we were taught these other Christian practices, a rich array of them, not to show what they did, but as pieces of us, our history, our heritage. We we taught these practices, these spiritualities, were beautiful and meaningful and true. We were taught to respect them, to experiment with them, even to enjoy them. I still do. So being a visitor, it would seem "home" is elsewhere, but I feel home there too. Is God there? Yes. Yes He/She is. And wherever God is, there is home. You can hear Him in the singing, you can hear her in the prayers. You can hear God in all of these spiritual practices.

Sister Antoinette once told me she didn't think I would be happy until I became Catholic. I think she's right in a way. I would never be happy sticking to just one spiritual practice. I need Catholicism too on top of everything else. There is so much out there. So many deeply enriching experiences that sticking to one all the time would be like having mashed potatoes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. As much as I like mashed potatoes, I want variety in my diet. It keeps things interesting, keeps me healthy. Diversity is nourishing. And if diversity is nourishing in what we eat and what we do, then why not how we pray? Why not how we relate to God?

Trying out different ways of relating to God is a good thing. It's not that I'm betraying any faith I profess to have or church I am involved with, (though how I could betray Judaism, Protestantism, and Quakerism all in one is beyond me), it's that I'm enriching it. God doesn't have denominations in Heaven. We are all one. Why not embrace that here? Why not visit each other, get to know one another? Why not break down those stereotypes and get to know someone from a different faith background for ourselves? In my own life, I found that we aren't so different and in the places we are, those places enrich my life far more than I ever thought possible.

So I go to mass. And I go to Quaker meeting. I visit churches and I delight in Shabbat. And yes, I have some practices that are rather Catholic. It's one of the reasons I have enjoyed becoming friends with people of the Catholic faith. I can share those things, those practices of mine, knowing full well they share them too and that they won't ever laugh at me or question why I do them. And when they ask me if I have considered a religious life, I know they are not simply incredulous of why a woman would invest herself in attending seminary, but are asking sincerely, and we can have a real conversation about it.

God is just too big, and too wide, and too immense to limit ourselves to one way of prayer. Thanks be to God.

Dropping Leaves

2010-12-29T15:12:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting at one of my favorite coffee shops. It's where I come when I want to meet a friend or to be with other people so I have the illusion of company without actually interacting with those around me. It's a perfect setting to get some work done- I feel accountable to them somehow. Being an extrovert with a lot of introverted tasks, I find this is a good solution. How do people manage without coffee shops? I am at a loss to know.

The man sitting two chairs down from me is reading a book, fiction it seems. I like having him there-a fellow book reader. With these new-fangled electronic book reader thingies, those of us who love the printed page must band together, perhaps form some kind of support group. We can meet at Powell's. This of course, coming from a woman who keeps a blog online.

It's been an intense fall, getting all the books reprinted and Christine's published for the first time. It was worth it but I did pay a price, time and energy. I am still recovering both. I feel like the trees outside. They look bare. They've dropped all their leaves. Are they dead? No, the trees have just taken their energy into their depths, away from their extremities. The trees are getting ready to grow again.

I've stepped back from many things this fall. I am no longer the photographer for the Pentacle Theatre-I needed time for writing and publishing. I am not taking tap dancing classes (except for stepping in on occasion). And as of January, I won't be recording clerk at church. I did join the dragon boat racing team and I have loved paddling up and down the Willamette River. But it's been a time of letting things go, tying up loose ends, dropping my leaves, and figuring out where to go next.

Too Good of a Story

2010-11-23T17:33:00.000-08:00

This is just too good of a story not to tell. It's a story about how God answers the unasked prayers we never think to pray in shocking ways. I'm still grinning.

The story starts a week ago on my birthday. I was meeting up with my mom to celebrate when she told me about a phone call several weeks prior with her own mother who told her about a second or third cousin who was having a book signing at the local Borders Bookstore. Neither of them attended the signing but my mom did look his book up online though she couldn't remember his name when she related this all to me. She did tell me it was a Christian book about addiction and depression. I thought about calling Borders to find out who this cousin was; I loved the idea of having another Christian author in the family. However, as it turned out, I didn't have to make that call.

When my Grandmother called later in the evening to wish me a happy birthday, she also told me about the book signing and she had a name: Doug Bolton. When I heard it, I thought to myself, "I know that name from somewhere. How do I know that name?" First chance I had, I looked him up on my computer starting with my e-mail first and sure enough, there he was.

Years ago I contacted a man to ask to be taken off a mailing list of an Oregon State University alumni newsletter. He noticed the reference to my books in the signature of my e-mail and as he was also a writer, we started corresponding once in a while over the years about our books but never met in person, though we live in the same town.

After learning of our connection, I e-mailed him immediately asking if we could meet for coffee and checked with my grandmother to make sure I knew just how we were related. He is my grandfather's cousin which makes us third cousins.

So today, I found a picture of my grandpa and brought it with me to show him. I hadn't said anything yet as I wanted to tell him we were family, not just friends, in person. We started talking about our books and found we have a lot in common already; he was brought up in a Quaker family, in a meeting that used to be in the neighborhood where I now live, where my great-grandparents lived, but a meeting that no longer exists. You can imagine my surprise right there but when I showed him his cousin's picture and told Doug I was Gib's granddaughter, he was stunned. I am sure he will be absorbing that news for days to come. It took me a while to get over the shock myself that I was related to one of my friends.

One of the most incredible things for me about this whole story is I know so little about my grandpa's family though I have been told by many I look just like the Woods. My grandpa, mom, aunt, and I share an uncanny resemblance and when my great-great uncles saw me at my great-aunt's funeral several years back, they took one look at me and said, "You look like our mother." So our "family look" runs very strong from one generation to the next and I got it. When Doug found out we were related, he said I looked a lot like his mom, who as it turns out, is still living in an assisted living home in South Salem. You know I will be visiting.

I feel so grateful God let us know of our connection, that we're family. As I said before in my post about our Hoggatt family reunion this summer, I didn't have a lot of contact with blood family beyond my grandparents growing up and was told little so knowing my more distant cousins and great-aunts and uncles means so much to me. I love knowing where I've come from and I love now having the opportunity to know much more about my grandpa's life and his family whom I so closely resemble. It's the prayer I never thought to pray. I am so grateful God gives us what we need even when we don't realize we need it. He is so good to us.

Since I usually have a point to what I write on here, more than, "Isn't this an awesome story?", the moral of this tale is, "Be kind to everyone you meet. You never to whom you are related. (In our souls, we are all related, sometimes the relationship is just more obvious.)"

As an epilogue, Doug and I will now be working on doing events and signings together, probably in the spring. Meanwhile, on December 10th, I am going to support him at his next signing at Eola Hills Winery which, with all the additional music and artists, should be quite an event. The invitation is below. You are all invited to come.

YOU’RE INVITED

Join us for entertainment and a book signing

EOLA HILLS WINERY

501 S Pacific Hwy 99W

Rickerall, OR

Doug Bolton will be there to sign copies of his new book, Signs of Hope: Ways to Survive in an Unfriendly World.

Performing for the evening will be the barbershop quartet group, Dave Chilcote and The Investors, plus recording artists Mindy Taylor Hersey and Julie Hoy. Both will be signing copies of their new CD’s.

And finally, guest speaker Laura Morett, star of the TV series “Survivor” will be doing autographs and showing clips of the series.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 10

6-9 P.M.

Admission is free

There will be complimentary hors d’oeuvres and a “no host” bar

Please R.S.V.P. to rich-washburn@eolahillswinery.com

This is his website: http://dougbolton.com/

Happy Birthday!

2010-11-20T17:59:00.000-08:00

I have been told by many adults older than I that their birthdays are just another day. When I was young, I was aghast at this idea. How could your birthday be just like any other? Now that I'm older, I have a better idea what they mean. It is an easy thing to do, once all those youthful parties and gift giving are over, to wonder what your birthday now means and to let that day go into the monotony of other days. It is easy to dread becoming older, to wish to put off the decline of our physical selves. And yet, I like birthdays.

I am now 31. My birthday was last Tuesday and every year I have to decide how I am going to treat the day. Thirty was a big year last year, I saw a lot of friends and enjoyed myself immensely. This year, thirty-one, for the first time, I was tempted by the "just another day" idea but I wasn't tempted for long. As a single adult, I have long since learned that if a holiday is going to be special, it is I and I alone who will make it so. If I want a party, it is usually I who has to plan it, though last year Cheryl hosted a wonderful breakfast and a bit of geo-caching (my very first outdoor event for my birthday, EVER). But a birthday, to be special, needs to be more than parties and gifts. What does a birthday mean? Beyond turning a year older, why celebrate our birthdays?

I think birthdays are still special as adults because we then each have a special day to honor who we are and to give family and friends the chance to celebrate us, to celebrate with us our lives and how precious they are. Birthdays are a way of loving ourselves and letting others love us as well. Birthdays are precious just as we are precious.

I can spend my birthday bemoaning the fact it's not like it was when I was a kid. There is no big family get together, no party hat with lime green fringe or a birthday cake I can stick my fingers into and lick off the frosting (my first birthday, and actually, at that time, it was my whole hand). Or, I can enjoy the day for the gifts that are there, make it special for myself, and to choose to have a good attitude, to delight in my own special day. It is a choice.

This year, God gave me his present first. It came in the form of a call from Kim asking if I was available to fill in for her at the elementary library where she and a friend work. At that school, I know the whole staff and as I had helped in the office the day before, I knew two other staff had the same birthday as mine. It's my favorite place to fill in at. Working in the library was great. I got to spend the day with a friend, heard her read a funny book to the kids as only she can, and Kim even dropped me off a birthday latte. God gives the best birthday presents! He gave me the job I hadn't even hoped to have.

If we are to make our birthday specials, we have to enjoy the little things, the time with a friend, a latte, fellow birthday buddies, calls from family. By the evening, I was grinning. Not only did I have a great day, but both my parents had called and sang me their renditions of "Happy Birthday" and my sisters had called as well. My birthday is still special to them which helps keep it special to me.

Don't let your birthday just be another day. Even if it's a small thing, make it special and enjoy the moment. Let others love and celebrate you; celebrate yourself. Happy birthday!

The Story of Jonah

2010-11-19T19:36:00.000-08:00

Dear Friends, Every once in a while I come across a story, song, or video that captures so beautifully the heart of God and I love sharing them with you. This is one a friend posted on Facebook tonight and it is extraordinary.

A few years ago, I was at our local Jewish temple and the Rabbi did a midrash with the congregation on the story of Jonah. Throughout his telling, he would ask us questions as if we were Jonah, or the Ninevites, or even the whale and we had to answer from that person's perspective. I loved it. The story of Jonah has been precious to me ever since but this girl tells it like I've never heard it before. She's given me much to think about.

The story of Jonah from Corinth Baptist Church on Vimeo.

"I've Been Busy" - But You aren't that Important

2010-11-08T09:33:00.000-08:00

I cannot tell you how many times I have asked someone how they are doing and they reply in a variance of "I've been busy" as if this is a real answer to my question. Are you happy? Do you have joy? Are you worn out? Do you need rest? How do you feel about being busy? It's like asking someone if I can borrow a pen and they tell me what color it is. They reply they are busy as if that should satisfy my curiosity on their condition. To me, it feels as if people think being busy meets some unspoken goal of our lives, that if we are busy, we have achieved some greatness in our day.

While here in Indiana, not being busy, I have indulged in my friend Carole's library, a library after my own heart, and have been reading from there a copy of Eugene Peterson's The Contemplative Pastor. Having struggled with this issue of being busy himself, he reflects, "It was a favorite theme of C.S. Lewis that only lazy people work hard. By lazily abdicating the essential work of deciding and directing, establishing values and setting goals, other people do it for us; then we find ourselves frantically, at the last minute, trying to satisfy a half dozen different demands on our time, none of which is essential to our vocation, to stave off the disaster of disappointing someone." As a remedy, he suggests, "The trick of course, is to get to the calendar before anyone else does. I mark out the times for prayer, for reading, for leisure, for the silence and solitude out of which creative work--prayer, preaching, and listening can issue."

This is the very remedy my spiritual director suggested for me several months ago, a remedy to being busy, I admit, in which I haven't followed through. But now I realize that after evaluating my priorities and saying no to everything else, my second step is to bring those priorities into balance. Before I came here to Indiana, my life was insanely busy getting three books ready for the printer, my second priority after my relationship with God, a goal at which I succeeded. But going back, I can't return to the same pace, it is draining and sucks the life energy out of my soul. There are times, I know, that will be busy. We all have seasons like that where one priority takes the most time, or even several. But it can only be for a season. For instance, Carole has been working on writing new syllabi's for several new classes she is teaching here at Earlham. We have had many conversations about the books she is having her students read, the papers she is assigning them, and the projects they will complete. It is a busy time for her but it will not last. She knows to take care of herself and to not put too many rocks in her jar.

This is my lesson in returning home: Being busy is not a state of being, it is a state of dying. Eugene Peterson observed how many of the things he did each day were superfluous to what was actually needed. A church nearby had no pastor for a year or two and though they had someone stepping in to preach and another to conduct wedding, funerals, and baptisms, he noticed many of the things he did as a pastor were not being done at that church and no one minded. So he stopped doing them at his church and no one minded there either. He realized some of the things he thought were important were in reality, not needed. Reading that experience of his made me wonder how many things do I do in my life, how many things do we all do, that don't really matter? Or how many things do we do because we think we are essential when in actuality, we just aren't that important? For example, I have taken photos for a theatre here in town of their shows, an activity I have found I have some talent for, but I realized it was one of the rocks that had to go if I was going to attend to the rocks that needed to be in my life's jar. The theatre was fine with my decision and they found other people to take those pictures. I'm just not that important. If something really needs to be done, God will arrange for someone who is called to do it.

This time in Indiana has been a treasured, contemplative rest. It has brought me back to that centered peace I belong in. I have had the time to read, write, and just be still. The busy, intense period is over and I now know what it feels like to have a life with a lot more rest in it, so I know I will be putting parameters in place to ensure I am not that consistently busy again. It is okay for a short period, but is not for okay for life. Even Jesus, especially Jesus, took time away for quiet, both alone and with his friends. He is our example to emulate. However, it is because I first realized this summer how overrun my life had become, that I was able to come back to this rhythm so quickly. Already having recalibrated to a slower pace, I felt the strain far sooner being busy than I would have a few months before. This is a good thing. But I need to live in such a way that I find rest in my daily life, not to be extremely busy and then get away to rest. I already need to have that in my day. But being overly busy for a time did teach me one thing: I know where my boundaries are.

If we don't draw boundaries around our lives and energy, people will have no trouble crossing those boundaries and filling up our schedule. We have to get to our calendars first. Peterson has a great suggestion for this. He tells us that we should schedule out blocks of time for God, ourselves, and those we love first. Then when someone asks us to do something that same night, instead of saying, "I was thinking of reading that night" or "I was going to take my wife out to dinner," both of which they might try to persuade you to reschedule, simply reply with, "My appointment calendar will not permit it." He claims people never argue with this answer and you are sure to keep those things in place that nurture you and give you breath.

I would urge you to take a hard look at your schedule. What things are you doing that need to be taken out, what things do you need to put your energy into instead? What space needs to be built into your day? We can't keep running from event to appointment to practice to work. We can't keep thinking about what is coming next, we need to be where we are. We need air and breath in our day. You have to just do it. There will never be a convenient time to change. But it's always appropriate.

Needed Rest

2010-11-02T19:27:00.000-07:00

Once I was seated on the plane during my first leg of the trip, it didn't take me long to pull out a book to read. I had been looking forward to that moment for two months. Well, I would have been looking forward to it if I'd had the time. I was so intensely busy I even let my dishes go and only washed them when I really needed to. Most of the rest of the house stayed picked up.

Do you remember me talking about the rocks in the jar? It's a good thing I dumped out that jar before working on publishing the books because there is no way I would have been able to continue juggling everything, including this blog, and ready the books for printing at the same time. My two poetry books are beautiful. Through the work of Emily on the cover art and Janelle on the design, they look fantastic. The insides too, have been redone, cleaned up, added to, and even a tad rewritten. Christine's book is completely new so I had to lay it out, work with her on cover design, and we worked on all the edits. It was a very intense two months of work. Well worth it, but not a pace I can readily sustain for a long period of time.

By the time I gave the woman my ticket and carried my bags onto the plane, I was done, 110% done. Not just done as in the books were at the printers being printed up, which they are, but emotionally and physically spent several times over. I have had an image in my head of myself all dry and cracked, bleeding and parched. Before I truly settled into my book, I talked to God about it and had the sense he was taking me here for awhile so he could rub some of that healing balm into my soul, that he would minister to me over and over again as only many repeated applications of balm would heal me.

As I've said in other places, printing one book takes over your life--three are insane. So now I am here in Indiana to rest. Brie, the woman next to me on the plane, after hearing where I was going and for how long, was speechless for a second and then exclaimed, "Why?!" But Richmond is a very pleasant town and a great place for me to rest and relax. There isn't a lot of big things to go see so I can spend much of my time reading books I neither have to write nor edit. Heaven. I can write if I want, attend seminary classes if I want, spend time with friends, and cuddle a cat named Chub in what has quickly become my favorite house. At this moment his head is resting on my elbow (Carole and he just came to a good compromise on who got that particular seat on the couch--they're sharing it.)

Yesterday I spent at Quaker Hill cuddled up on a couch downstairs reading a book about who really killed Humpty Dumpty when he fell off that wall. Thinking about it, I realized I felt so raw, I needed to escape into a book as a kind of protective layering. That and a lovely walk through the woods was exactly what I needed. Today I spent at Earlham School of Religion. It was really nice to meet some of the community there and see some of my friends who attend.

So thank you for hanging in here and still reading after this long break. I really do appreciate it. Now that the books are off to the printers, I will have a lot more time to write. When I get home which won't be until late next week, I'll post pictures of the new covers.

I pray you too, are all finding the rest you need.

The Flight from the Underworld

2010-11-02T18:38:00.000-07:00

"I'm sorry folks, but..." We heard a version of that several times on the second leg of my trip. At first it was a mechanical repair, then it was our co-pilot being over his allotted hours, then having to run some diagnostics. All in all, we spent about four hours waiting in our plane on the tarmac at the airport. At one point, they had driven the plane to another gate to let the co-pilot off and wait for a new one and while we waited, they let us all off for fifteen minutes. That's when one of the staff got on the microphone and said, "I know it's been a flight from the underworld for you all tonight..." (Halloween no less.)

As far as I went, I was only concerned that it was going to be a very late night for the woman picking me up. Other than that, I didn't mind too much. Between being stuck overnight in Chicago once and having experienced Kenya travel myself and through the stories of others, I had other things to compare the flight to than ones that always left on time. On top of that, I had no connection to make, I had been assigned a window seat in the emergency row with lots of leg room, a very nice and interesting young woman named Brie was my seat partner with an empty seat between us where we could spread out our stuff, and her delightful and funny mother and brother were sitting on the other side of the aisle. All in all, I actually enjoyed it. It was one of those moments when I got to decide what kind of attitude I was going to have. I could be upbeat and laugh, or I could be grumpy and impatient. Either way, we were going to be sitting there on the tarmac for the same amount of time. I chose to laugh.

We laughed when they came over the intercom to tell us they were giving us each a voucher but didn't tell us what it was because my neighbors and I then came up with all kinds of things it could be: a free soda on our next flight or a dollar off our next purchase being our favorites. We laughed again when the baby started making runs for the main door via crawling down the aisle at full speed with it's mother hurrying along behind to catch him. We wanted to time him to see how long it would take him to get there or find another baby and hold races. We laughed some more after leaving the gate again and then waiting, again, on the tarmac, without the pilot coming on to tell us why. We figured he was too afraid to tell us what was going on after all the hours we had already waited so we entertained ourselves by coming up with all the possibilities of what could be causing our delay. A new crew or new pilot being our top guesses.

There were some passengers who were rather irate by the end. I can understand that. I would have been far more upset myself if I had to be somewhere at a certain time or had a connection to make that I would have certainly missed. That's when the test of a good attitude really comes into play. But as I didn't, I was fine and now I have some kind of voucher to use and since I love to travel, any help in paying for that is appreciated. In the end, it's true what they say, "Good things come to those who wait." Thank you God for a safe flight here.

"Broken Blessings" by Christine Elder

2010-10-01T17:55:00.000-07:00

"Broken Blessings" by Christine Elder

Art by Jeff Tiner

I once heard Paul Young, author of "The Shack", say that he no longer asked God to bless anything he did but if there was something God was blessing and he could be a part of it, he would be all over that. Today I get to announce to all of you the thing God is blessing that I am honored to be a part of.

My friend, Christine Elder, has been writing a blog this past year about her experiences surrounding her son's attempted suicide and the healing process that followed, a story I have known and followed since that first awful night. She has now turned it into a book and I am pleased to announce Spirit Water Publications will be publishing this book and that it will be ready for release at the end of October, 2010.

Christine's book, I deeply believe in just as I deeply believe in Christine. Her writing is honest, real, and full of the truth of our struggles in the midst of faith. Christine has been very conscious of God's leading as she's written and edited and I am excited to see the fruits of this labor as God uses her hope and love to speak light into the lives of others. The first full night of her son's stay in the hospital's Intensive Care Unit , over 50 of us prayed outside in a circle. We prayed for healing, that Michael would feel himself surrounded by God's love, and that somehow, God would use this tragedy to show his power and love to the world. I believe this book is a partial answer to that prayer.

Sarah

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Book Description

Few things in life could be more terrifying than finding your child hanging lifeless by a rope on the back of a deserted house, yet this is precisely what author Christine Elder encountered one dark fall night. Broken Blessings is the true story of the hope and strength that guided the author and her family through this trauma, and through the aftermath of her teenage son’s massive brain injury and his continuing struggle with drug and alcohol addiction. It is a tale of both tragedy and miracles, and serves as a courageous example of how we can respond to life’s challenges with trust and hope no matter the depth of our pain or loss. Christine’s deep faith and innate spirituality weave through every page of the narrative, offering a beacon to guide others through their own struggles and to help them discover that there is a compass that guides them, and they are never alone.

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Christine Elder, the author, is a music professor at Willamette University in Salem, Oregon as well as a classical soprano soloist, wife and mother of two. She is a lifelong Presbyterian and a longtime seeker, student and teacher of mystical traditions and human consciousness. Her musical credits include singing a solo in Carnegie Hall and conducting multiple choirs with orchestra on a nationally televised Christmas Eve special. Described by her college students as being a teacher of “Life Lessons” as much as Voice and Theory, she also teaches Reiki Spiritual Body Building. She lives in Salem with her husband Rob, son Michael, two dogs and one cat.

Jeff Tiner, the artist, is an inmate awaiting execution on death row in Oregon. He has hand-written over 4,000 letters from his cell on behalf of the Bahkita project, a missionary effort he began and which has raised over $100,000 for those left destitute by conflict in the war-torn region of Darfur in the Sudan. He also is a gifted artist who creates mostly sacred, iconic art with the limited supplies available to him in prison. Jeff and Christine met through a chaplain who serves both a local hospital as well as the state penitentiary.

You can read an article about Jeff here.

You can see his artwork here.

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Sample from Chapter 8: Safe in the Flood

Our dog Sasha is really bossy sometimes. She mostly bosses Max, our Golden Retriever, bullying him with growls and woofs and forceful nosing. Sasha is a mutt, and our vet thinks she may have some cattle dog in her. This makes sense to us as she herds every moving thing in sight, and the more warm bodies there are in close proximity, the bossier she gets. She was especially hard on Max his past week since we had family visiting, often turning on him in sudden eruptions of snarling and nipping. So this afternoon when I was downstairs putting my body through some exercise paces and Sasha pounced all over Max again, I gave her a piece of my mind. She groveled over to me, tucked her head in penitent submission and gazed up imploringly with big brown eyes. She’s a very cute mutt, after all. Just as she and I were making up, Max let out a “Woof!” right at her and then turned and ran like a rabbit up the stairs. I laughed out loud as she tore after him, realizing how much he wanted her to boss him.

Max led me to a grander observation just then: we can’t save someone that doesn’t want saving, not to mention that our assessment of their peril may be completely erroneous. We may be able to open a person’s eyes to how much they need help (Rob insists Max is enough of an underdog that we do come in handy from time to time), but ultimately everyone chooses the help they do or do not want.

I am helping Michael a lot these days. His therapists continually stress the goal of independence, and I am beginning to see why it is so important to keep a tight lead on this objective. Michael often seems less independent rather than more so as time goes by. His friends aren’t calling or coming by much now, so I suggested perhaps he call them. Initiation continues to be a major hurdle whether it involves getting up, eating, practicing therapies, or deciding what to do next. Social contact seemed like a good idea, but he simply wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t articulate why. He said he didn’t feel shy or self-conscious, said yes, he enjoyed time spent with friends and that he would like more of it, and absolutely no, he wouldn’t call. With his newfound awareness of the power of assertiveness, he flat out refused. My mother’s heart aches at his isolation, and in light of his solitary time I realize my fears have shifted. Just a few weeks ago I worried what he might do when he eventually got out more. Now I fear he’ll never go. He spends day after day here with his family when he used to be such a social boy. I am learning there is some help we can give and some we can’t. And I am beginning to make a regular habit of questioning my wisdom regarding another’s happiness.

Of course sometimes I put the parental foot down, as all moms do. I insisted Michael take a walk with us today, since the Willamette gym is closed for the week and we are off our regular fitness routine. We all needed fresh air. He came and kept pace, albeit half a block behind us. His measured distance reminded me very much of a normal teenage boy who might lag behind to avoid embarrassing familial association. He did catch up when Sasha took a business break, and then happily plop-plopped along next to us the remainder of the way.

Questions and decisions regularly arise as we navigate his recovery: Is this essential help I’m giving? Am I projecting my own goals onto him? Is it better to prod him or wait for him to find his own motivation? Can I help him discover that motivation? Is he ready for more responsibility or is it too soon? These are questions every parent faces in one form or another. And then there is that other, overarching question which occasionally insists itself in my psyche: “Why? Why did this have to happen?” Once I dive into the “Why?” vortex I can easily lose sight of the objectives at hand, spinning deeper and deeper. Why would Michael take the beautiful life he had and throw it away? Why would he attempt such terminal harm? This grief cuts deep. As parents we must feel at times that we value our children’s lives more than they do. We incubate them, birth them, tend them, love them, celebrate with them and rear up in indignant rage when someone else hurts them.

I remember when Natalie participated in a school “pageant” and the woman directing the event rigged the results, arranging for her favorite to win. The contest was a fundraiser for a children’s hospital, so bringing in money was part of the competition. Since people would be making donations the night of the event, the result was supposed to be in suspense. But at the dress rehearsal the day before I overheard the director saying to another contestant, “Now when they announce your name I want you to first walk this way, and then turn and go there,” coaching the young girl across the stage. I was incensed! I confronted her about it and she made excuses and denied it, but the next night when the designated young lady won (as well as the director’s son) I felt confirmed and justified in my mama-bear outrage. My anger simmered for a good long while, stoked by repeated mental replays of the injustice, even after Natalie said, “But mom, it really doesn’t matter. The point was to raise money for the hospital, and we did, so it’s all good..” (who made my then middle-school-aged daughter more mature than me?). We know it isn’t OK for someone to hurt our kids. But where do we direct our rage when they hurt themselves?

I put off praying much of the day today. After a productive morning I did other things, all kinds of nothing, and finally, a half hour after announcing I was heading to quiet time, when I found myself snacking on blue corn chips and playing games on Facebook, I knew I was into some serious avoidance behavior. So I buckled down and went. Once there I quickly came face to face with the object of my avoidance: grief. My beautiful boy, my beautiful, sweet Michael fell deep enough into the well of darkness that he lost sight of the light above and felt the only way forward was to hasten going under. Surely one of a parent’s greatest griefs is to see their children hurt. At whom do we rage? I believe the answer is we don’t rage at all, we weep. God holds the wreckage of our hearts and heads in strong, secure hands that do not falter or fail. There we cry and rest, and let healing come.

How interesting and utterly human that I would spend a good part of the day avoiding the one place where I might find sustaining comfort. What is so terrifying about surrender, I wonder? Is it simply the posture of presumed weakness, or the flood of emotion? Neither is such a monster, especially when I consider the behemoths of pride and emotional sterility. And why would hiding from God seem at all secure? It is an irony to think we find strength in maintaining a tight stillness when such rigidity leaves us brittle and ultimately vulnerable. It is only in the soft, supple care of the One who wrote our names in the book of life before we were in our mothers’ wombs that we are safe. I, too, can’t be helped if I don’t want to be. I can hold tight and brace against love, or I can give in to the wave and be safe within its folds.

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The book will be available in late October. Let me know if you would like to preorder a copy.

Rock Check-Up

2010-09-24T14:42:00.000-07:00

So it's been five days since I dumped the jar and I thought I would give you an update. Let me tell you, it's hard to keep the other rocks from slipping back into the jar. I've been invited to go country line dancing, to a concert, and to a potluck, all things I would enjoy doing. However, I have said no to them all because I know my time is best spent at home working on getting the books ready for publication. Normally, I would give myself more play time, more time to frolic, the rocks would be in better balance. But right now these books need my attention. I tell myself, yes, it is only two hours here and three hours there but wouldn't you rather be hours worth of work further along with the books? After an intense week like this, in addition to working three other jobs, I am fraying a bit around the edges. I admit that. Last night, I did go help celebrate the birthdays of two friends for two hours, I needed time to relax and have fun with them and it helped quite a bit. Tomorrow Deborah and I are driving up to Vancouver for Deanna's house warming party so that will be fun too. But if I do a bunch of small and fun things, as great as those are, all those fun things, those little rocks, will drop into the jar and fill it right back up. It's not that those things are bad, they are good things. It's just that I'm choosing the better thing.

I'm still working on making sure I take time to read my daily Bible chapter and time to talk to God about what is on my mind. I always read the chapter at some point but I'm trying to do it in the mornings which means getting myself out of bed on time. It's not as easy as it sounds.

My problem is I also need to keep in mind the rock of time for myself. I need to remember that the fun time is important too but it cannot take priority over the rock of writing and publishing. It will take a while to bring the rocks into balance. I know that. But I'm learning and that's okay. It's takes a while to learn the right balance to ride a bike. It takes a while to learn the right balance to live a life. I'll fall, I'll make mistakes. The important thing is to keep riding.

First Thing's First!

2010-09-19T09:31:00.000-07:00

So I actually did it. I made the space for change. (Earlier post can be found here.) I realized that now fall has begun with work in the schools and house sitting, that I was pushed to the very edge of my margins and that once again, what needed to be done, namely reprinting the books and writing the third, was not getting done. There was no time for it. I have struggled with this theme, as many of you know from reading this blog, for months. Thus, also the fewer posts. It's a scary thing to live your life but to never do or be the thing God has called us to.

I see my time in the mountains this summer as a wake up call that I had to JUST STOP and recalibrate myself to a slower pace where my feet weren't frantically running out from under me so much of the time. My time living in Vancouver for several weeks while house sitting for a friend was my time to live this out away from all the demands being home brings on. But now the rubber has met the road and I have to make the hard choices about what to keep in my life and what to let go of.

Picture a glass jar in front of you with piles of various sized rocks nearby. Up to now, people have put rocks in my hands and I have all too easily dropped them in the jar while the rocks God has given me sit on the table neglected. Soon the jar is filled with these rocks from others and I am trying quite unsuccessfully to cram the God rocks into the jar, the rocks that give me life. So I finally realized how futile this whole thing was and how stupid I was being to think it would work. I wanted many of those rocks, they were nice rocks I had been given. But I wanted the rocks God had given far more. It was the difference between what is the best and what is good. Thus, I at last made the choice I have been struggling to make for some time. I dumped the jar.

With the glass gleaming, empty and clean, I contemplated the jar and the rocks beside it. First I took the rock of relationship. The most important thing in my life is my relationship with God. If that rock isn't in the jar, nothing else should be, not even my ministry. Without a relationship with God, my ministry counts for nothing. This rock involves reading my Bible. I have decided on a chapter a day to be read in the morning, two if I life, and to think about one idea I can take away from that section. My first book to go through in this way is Isaiah. I'm getting to know God's character this way. I also sit or lay down with God and talk to him about what is on my mind, what I am concerned about or want to talk over. I am still working on remembering to make room for these practices every day, but I feel much better about my relationship with God than I have in a long time by simply following the shocking idea of making time for it. It's steps in that best of directions.

The second rock I put in the jar is the rock of ministry, or writing and publishing. This fall I want to reprint all three of my books in addition to another project I'll be announcing shortly. (It's not the third poetry book, that's in the writing stages.) I have known for years this is the beat of my heart, my purpose in life. I am a writer. So I am taking time to write. First I'm actually taking time to publish, writing the third poetry book will come after that. But I am making sure I have room to do those things. If this was so important to God that he gave me these gifts, than it should also be that important to me to use them. And again, if this rock isn't in the jar, then nothing else should be.

Yesterday, I kept the entire Saturday free and unscheduled. I turned on the fireplace, listened to the rain fall outside which it did all day, and worked on the three publishing projects I have in the jar. After fifteen hours of working on the books, I felt like I had come miles from where I started. Huge progress was made and I feel like I have a much better handle on my timeline of getting these out before Christmas and now that I'm making the time for the books, I know the rest of the steps will get done. As I wrote to a friend on facebook, one book takes over your life. I am printing several.

The third rock I've placed in the jar is the rock of friends and family. It's so vitally important to be in relationship with those we love, to spend time with them, talk with them, to delight in each other's company. I love meeting people for coffee or tea, going to events with them such as festivals or concerts, playing games or just hanging out. I love to make them laugh. Time with my friends nurtures me, gives me joy and I learn so much from them.

You may by now, be asking about the rock of paid work. Yes, that is in there too but work must be done alongside these four other rocks. If work interferes with one of these four, then you need to reevaluate your employment. These four rocks come first.

Now that these five rocks are sitting in my jar, I can then add the others people offer but I must choose carefully. I will have to say no to things to make sure there is space for the first five. There also needs to be empty space around the rocks, the margins of life so I have space to move and breathe. For a while, I am going to be saying no to more things while I practice giving the first five all the time they need. I need to form these good habits of spending daily time with God, with my writing, with my friends, taking time for myself, and working before I can put any more rocks in the jar. It's going to be hard for me to say no. I know that but after yesterday, I also know how good it feels to put first things first, to know that what needs to get done are the things actually getting done.

Yes, there are other things that won't get done. People will be disappointed with me that I will no longer do what they want me to but as I am doing what I need to be doing, I am okay disappointing them. I am who I am. I have to be true to that before anything else. I have to put the God rocks in the jar.

Chwele Yearly Meeting Youth Choir

2010-09-16T21:58:00.000-07:00

This is a video of one of the children's choirs with us at the Young Quaker Christian Association of Africa triennial conference last December. I now believe any conference without two such African children's choirs just isn't right and is in fact, far from being a complete conference. When I get back home from house sitting, I think I'll have to post some more of my own videos.

New Kenya Template

2010-09-06T23:34:00.000-07:00

I told you I was going to be fiddling with the layout... I like the pictures from Kenya myself, I hope you do too. Let me know what you think!

Adult Friend - The Inescapable God

2010-09-06T22:18:00.000-07:00

Last winter I wrote five lessons on the Psalms for Barclay Press' "Adult Friend", a quarterly Bible study they edit and publish for classes and Bible studies around the United States. Delving deep into these Psalms was a joy. Exploring and searching them out for the reader and for myself was an experience that rooted my soul into God's, a much needed connection after just having returned from Kenya.

"The Inescapable God" is now available for purchase at their website if you would like to read what I and the other two writers wrote about the character of God. They cost $3.35each. If you would like to purchase the additional lesson material for teachers, you can buy both together for $8.30, described here: "The Inescapable God: Discover the nature of God as the first person of the Trinity, by looking at Old Testament texts from the Exodus narrative and from the poetry of Psalms. A four-page folded leaflet of leader materials for each of the 13 lesson along with a copy of the student booklet."

If there is interest, I am considering buying a stack of copies to have them on hand for people to buy without having to order them from Barclay Press. If you are interested in this option, please let me know via the comments. Thanks and enjoy your reading!

"What is your problem with chocolate??? "

2010-09-04T21:16:00.000-07:00

This is a comment I received today on the post: "Peanut M&Ms in Relationship -Submission Part 3"

"So, um, you know, I really really like the general direction of this post and some parts of your metaphor really work for me, but WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM WITH CHOCOLATE??? I am not sure I want to hear, "read the whole book..."

I mean it's not really like you're talking about ecology or fair trade production or the power and wonder of chocolate in small and measured doses. It's just that no chocolate at all is not at all a leap I think a lot of relationships can sustain. Here I am not seeing the path away from chocolate mess and into the GOOD parts of chocolate."

First off, let me say I LOVE hearing from you in the comments. I love the feedback and it inspires me to keep writing. Thank you RantWoman for writing! Because of the nature of your questions, I thought I would address them publicly in a post of it's own.

Let me tell you: I like chocolate, dark chocolate. It's not something I love, as in I drool over the case of truffles in the candy store, but I do enjoy dark chocolate. This is a case of growth and change. Up until my mid-twenties, I preferred milk chocolate but as I lost my sweet tooth, I lost my taste for milk chocolate. Then, several years later, Adria introduced me to dark chocolate and I could hear the angelic choirs singing their praises to God in the halls of Heaven. It actually lasted only for a bar or two, but I have been a dark chocolate fan ever since. I am still not a big candy fan though so dark chocolate is not something I buy for myself but I enjoy the treat on occasion when offered.

As for the chocolate metaphor, it's not meant to disdain chocolate, but the original M&M was made with milk chocolate which is indeed, not good for you. Neither is the candy coated shell. The peanut is in fact the only part of the candy that has any nutritional value, just like the image of God inside each one of us is the truest part of ourselves. The reason the M&M metaphor is used is because it is something most people in the west know about. If I was teaching this in Kenya, I would probably use another metaphor. I know Katie and her team have taught this in another country. The next time I speak with her, I'll ask her if they still used it. If I recall correctly, I believe they brought bags of the candy with them for the students to see and eat.

I have been thinking about a new installment of posts under the Imago Dei series about the drama triangle. I love that material too! Thank you for the feedback!

A New Look

2010-09-04T20:09:00.000-07:00

Yes, this is the same blog, but with a new look. I've had the old design since I began this blog and I have been thinking about trying a new one out for some time now. You would think that someone who has traveled to the other side of the world wouldn't be so nervous about changing a virtual design format but I am. I liked the old colors and how it split up the posts better but it's time to make it more interesting. You'll probably see me changing pieces of it here and there until I've settled into something I really like. This picture, I believe, is taken in England on the Cliffs of Dover, a place I have actually been. It was beautiful. I chose green as the background to symbolized nourishment and growth, things I pray my life are marked by.

I would appreciate your feedback as I change things around. Is it readable? Is it easy on the eyes? Do you like looking at it? Does it suite me and the content of the blog? Thanks!

The Rumors are True!

2010-09-04T18:31:00.000-07:00

Those rumors you have been hearing are indeed, very true. I know it's hard to believe, I know it's been a long time in coming but yes, what you have been dreaming of so often, longed and yearned for with all your might will soon be a reality! I am reprinting. Feels like Christmas doesn't it? I bet you have wondered where Sarah went and never imagined she had her nose in a book (yeah right!). Because so many of you want your own copies of my first two poetry books and because I'm pretty much out, and the fact three of you have already paid for them, I have gone back to the drawing board (computer screen) to reprint them.

There are several aspects of this project and to help you be patient with me, I thought I would explain what is involved here.

Several years ago, I purchased the Adobe Creative Suite CS2, a suite of computer programs that includes Indesign, a program for layout design, with which to layout the books. (I had been using Page Maker.)However, learning the different Adobe programs is like learning French when I have only spoken English so to this end, I purchased the "Classroom in a Book" books to help me learn the ins and outs of the suite. These have been immeasurably helpful and I am actually enjoying learning how to better do what I love.

The first poetry book, "Learning to Fly", is actually being redone in several ways. There are eight new poems in the book, a new illustration, a second introduction, and a brand new cover. I am about half-way through adding all this new material but am still hunting for a good photograph for the cover. I have found several people who know Indesign who are willing to help me get the cover and contents ready for printing.

My illustrator for the second book asked if she could improve upon some of her illustrations so I am giving her some time to work on this. The rest of the book, except for updated biographies, will remain the same.

I am working on figuring out what quality the illustrations are in the program and whether or not the originals need to be rescanned. This has yet to be determined. This question alone will determine when the books are ready.

I wanted to find a new printer for the books. Though I really like the one that printed the second book, "In His Eyes", I wanted to find a printer focusing solely on printing books and after a great deal of research, I have selected Gorham Printing located in Centralia, Washington to reprint them both. I am happy with my choice and am excited to see the finished product.

I will let you all know when I have a better idea when the books will be ready for delivery but I can tell you for certain it will be this fall.

Thank you all for your support of my writing. It has meant more to me than I can possibly express and I am extremely grateful.

For more information on the books, go to www.SpiritWaterPublications.com.

Photo Study of Faces

2010-09-04T10:40:00.000-07:00

Many times throughout my posts I have mentioned Ecclesia, a house church I am a part of here in Salem. A week ago we went camping on the beach and while there, I had the idea of creating a photo study of their faces, a style of photography I have often admired in the work of others. Most of the photos I left in color, a few I put in black and white. Now at least, you can have faces in your mind when I mention them in future postings.

"Being" the Church

2010-08-13T10:02:00.000-07:00

When you hear the word "church", what comes to mind? If you are like me, the first thing that pops into your head is the picture of a building like the one above. You think of the tall windows, the steeple, or simply the building you enter into on a semi-regular basis, or the one you would never set foot in. You think of sermons, Vacation Bible Schools, and potlucks set out on long tables with children running underfoot. You might think of an organ, of an older congregation, of the collection plate being passed around while a hymn is sung. I think of all these things yet at the same time realize only some of them truly constitute the "church".

What is the church? This is the question many people have been asking for the thousands of years. Though the question is timeless, I have found myself in conversations with other young adults and some older all wondering if church should have a different emphasis. They have seen churches is operation and have started to question their intent and purpose. They have seen the business meetings, the gatherings, the numbers dwindling in more traditional congregations, and have asked themselves why. In the last few decades, some Christians have moved into the larger "mega-churches" and others have started moving toward the other end of the spectrum, house churches. They don't like the huge mega-church where they feel lost in the crowd and others love all the opportunities a large church can provide.

But what are house churches? House churches are small groups of people who meet in homes instead of more traditional settings and though they have always been in existence throughout our history, they are most certainly rising in number among mainstream Christians today, even outside of persecuted areas where house churches usually flourish. And people have started to notice and are openly asking questions not often heard before, questions comparing the house churches to their lager counterparts up the street. I'm not saying one type is better than another. Both types of church have benefits and drawbacks. After all, the church is not the building but the people and a large group of people can do great good. However, sometimes we can get so caught up in running a big church, that running it becomes our sole focus. A small house church can act quickly but on the downside, can more easily lose theological diversity.

In different times in my life, I have been a part of churches of many sizes. I grew up in a church of 1,000-2,000 and I thrived in that congregation. I had great Sunday school teachers complete with flannel story boards and crafts, day-camps in the summer, and when I was in high school, we had our own choir that toured for two weeks every summer giving concerts and doing ministerial work around the western United States. I remember being surrounded by missionary displays in the lobby and a strong emphasis being placed on honestly talking to God and standing up publicly, willing to share one's story. This church was far, far, from perfect, but it did it's job shaping me in ways that have characterized my faith and the expression thereof, ever since.

As I grew older, I have taken part in other, more mid-size churches of several hundred, attended their business meetings, seen them at work, and though I can name some of their more outward-focused ministries, I can tell you as an adult that for the large part, these churches, including the one I grew up in, were more concerned about continuing the church than being the church. One of my favorite movies, "The American President" puts this admission beautifully when the president testifies, "I was so busy keeping my job, I forgot to do my job."

How many churches are so busy keeping their buildings, their way of life, that they have forgotten to be the church? After all, Abraham was not chosen to bless himself but to be a blessing to others. The church is the same. We are to be God's hand in the world lifting up the lives of others, easing burdens, bringing light to dark places, being a blessing to those around us. The good news should be good not just for ourselves, but our lives should be good news for everyone we know and don't know. We are to have our hands in the muck, we are to get dirty, to spend more time in ministry outside the building than within it.

It is this belief that has led many to start questioning, asking themselves if a large building is the wisest investment, if a house-church would be a wiser use of resources. In a house church there is little overhead, more money and time available with which to reach out.

I am currently a part of two churches. One, though a small congregation, rents space to meet in on a weekly basis including the occasional use by other groups, and we have difficulty meeting the bills most months. Most of our budget goes to rent. The other, a house church, meets in people's homes on a rotating basis of several weeks. That group has also had trouble raising funds, funds that are usually given to people who need financial help for various reasons, either in our group, or friends of friends. The first church is well known among the Quakers and it has been important to have a regular meeting place for visitors to come to. The house church, not well known outside our own circle of a few other house churches, has more a focus on people's ministries outside our group as well as a strong community within it.

I wish I could take a simple stand that house churches are the way to go,urging us all to take the less encumbered way, to walk a more community-based road and not taking so much a orientation toward business. But I can't. Neither can I say more traditional churches with their structure, wider connections, and more resources are the way to go as a church. Both have great benefits and both can fall into great chasms of misdirection. In fact, they can both become just as inward focused, both as concentrated on continuing themselves as a group instead of living out right relationships with God, others, and the earth. Both can place their own goals above the Lord's. Both churches can also become so outward focused they forget to have community with one another, continuing to share refreshment and community with those who take part.

Still, the conversation begs the question we all need to ask no matter what church we take part in. How much of our efforts are focused on keeping the church and how much are focused on being the church? I am sure, when all is said and done, only the efforts with the end result of being the church will matter. If at the end of the day, all we have done is kept the church, we will have lost what church is all about.

"Truth Gives Wings to Strength"

2010-08-04T22:16:00.001-07:00

I made my family cry. I didn't mean to. But I seem to have a funny talent for making people cry with what I write. It never even occurred to me that they would find my blog before I had even had the chance to meet them and that it would turn their eyes into small versions of the Deshutes River. But find it they did, read it they most certainly did, and thus the first thing I heard from some of them when we met was how much they had cried on the way there.

As was shared with me, my Great-Aunt Helen's son found my blog and after wiping his tears, called my Aunt and told her she ought to read it. Someone in their carload pulled it up and they cried too. At the reunion, it didn't take long for word to spread about the blog post and soon I was printing up copies for people to read. Luckily, they didn't cry or at least I didn't catch them at it. Do you remember that peanut butter pie? Yeah. That was gone. So many people had heard about it that it took them minutes to eat it. Next time I'll make two.

My favorite part of the whole reunion was talking with and getting to know family I had not met or hadn't since I was a little girl and hearing about my great-grandparents from my great aunts and uncles. They filled out for me a much fuller picture of who they were. Great-Grandpa Hoggatt, as it turns out, was the assistant pastor in West Hollywood, probably in the 1930s, and he served, get this, under a woman. After that church he pastored in Selma where my great-grandmother played the organ and had a mirror strategically placed so she could give the children "the look" when they misbehaved. The kids would often sing in church. I would have loved to hear them, I hear they were quite good.

It was indescribably delightful to watch my grandpa with his siblings, watching them interact together and wondering what all those brothers were like when, as their sisters shared with me, they were all combing their hair back while getting ready for dates. It's fun to have the sisters around to tell on their brothers... It was funny to see the same looks on the brothers faces and to find common loves with other family members. I learned some things too. For example, as it turns out, my Great-Grandma Emma is the insane creator of a hand-sewn quilt in my possession. My grandma remembers sending her some of the fabric and another family member has a quilt of Grandma Emma's that includes some of the fabric in my own.

It's funny getting to know your roots when for two generations, my family hasn't lived close by extended family. But I feel like I've been given a precious gift of time with these folks who share my heritage and I have great joy in knowing I will continue my relationship with many of those I met.

Knowing your family doesn't dictate who you are but it helps to know where you've been. It helps give a foundation, or an up-current in the wind. Curious to know how my cousin found my blog, I googled "Hoggatt" and discovered my blog is the first website to come up. Just a little further down was a link to our family crest with the motto, "Truth gives wings to strength". For me, the truth was knowing those I belong with, those who have been teased in the exact same way about our last name, who understand the heritage we treasure. That truth does give wings, knowing God has been faithful before to someone in my family, knowing God will be faithful to me as I follow in my great-grandpa's footsteps, forging a path of ministry all my own, the truth giving wings to a new strength.

Four generations of aunts and nieces in relation to Madison: Great-Great-Aunt Marion, Great-Great-Aunt Helen, Great-Aunt Sharri, Aunt Sarah, and Madison.

Hoggatt Family Reunion Video

2010-08-01T09:06:00.000-07:00

I'll write about how the reunion is going later on when the kitchen isn't resembling Grand Central Station, but for now, here is a video of pictures we took yesterday.

Create your own video slideshow at animoto.com.

"The Hoggatt Family Reunion 2010" written by the Kitchen Minion

2010-07-30T09:33:00.000-07:00

The fog is beginning to lift to where I can just make out the other shore and a bird taking an early morning cruise over the sound searching, I am sure, for a delicious fish breakfast. In the room next to me, I can hear my aunt and uncle waking up and getting ready for the day. And what a big day it will be! My Aunt Sharri, I am sure, is thinking I'm doing her some big favor by being here to help as her kitchen minion but the truth is, I am looking forward to a day spent in the kitchen together cooking up a storm. It sounds like a slice of heaven to me. one of those moments that seem so mundane but are really precious and holy. We spent over two hours in Costco yesterday with her pushing a cart and me, cruising around with a flatbed, which, I eventually got the hang of.

My Aunt is one of the bravest people I know for not only did she trust me with that flatbed at Costco, but tomorrow this house will be turned from a quiet island home overlooking the Puget Sound into a raucous, noisy, full to the rafters house with seventy of our family members, most of whom I have never met, and many she hasn't either. We've talked over this idea for years and this year, she put it together, a family reunion with all her dad's (my grandpa's) siblings. And since there were twelve children, there are a lot of descendants.

Can I just tell you how excited I am to meet them all? When I was growing up, most of the local extended family around me was step-family and while I appreciated the gatherings, the fact is, we were always treated differently. I don't blame them for that and I'm not mad about it, it is just the way it was and I understand how that happens. But I've wanted to have family I truly belong to. So it has been one of my deepest joys to be an adult with the freedom to travel to see my dad's family in Washington on a pretty regular basis. I have loved spending time with my cousins, talking with my grandparents, and hanging out with my aunts and uncle. I really belong, I'm one of the gang. I eat my pancakes with peanut butter and get poison oak at the drop of a hat. I'm family.

It still feels weird when I think of meeting all these people and knowing I'm related to them all. My great-grandparents, from whom we are all descended, were in the ministry. "Brother Hoggatt" was an evangelistic preacher and I've read when you drove with Brother Hoggatt, you prayed. Haha. Being in the ministry myself through writing and speaking, I like to think I get a bit of that from him. Whether or not that's true, I hope he would be proud to know this about his great-granddaughter. My aunt, who did know him, thinks he is.

The one picture I've seen of this family, is when the youngest is still a little girl. (She'll be here tomorrow.) I'm hoping for stories. I'm hoping for fun. I'm hoping for time to sit down and get to know each other a little, to have them as more than just faces I barely recognize. I'm hoping to land a piece of that peanut butter pie I'll be making this afternoon and another of the Boston Creme Pie my Uncle is picking up tomorrow. I'm hoping to hear God moving, bringing people together, giving my Grandpa and his siblings a gift of being together again.

Thank you Jesus for my family. (And for peanut butter pie! I'll save you a slice.)

What I Learned From the Freedom Friends Fishing Club

2010-07-16T23:32:00.000-07:00

This last Wednesday I was invited to join the Freedom Friends Fishing Club as an honorary guest for the day. And while with them, I learned some things.

One does not eat while fishing. (Good thing I wasn't fishing.)
Don't tease people while fishing - especially if you're in a boat.
Catching each other's hooks still counts. (Apparently)
Make sure the anchor rope is connected to the boat. (It was.)
Fishing is very serious business.
Talking to the fish helps them take the bait.
If you are with people fishing and you do not have a pole in your hands, it is best to keep your mouth shut. (Though if you don't have a pole, you do get to drive the boat.)
Any manner of language is acceptable when handling tackle.
Whatever you do, don't get wound up and don't lose your balls. (Whatever that means.)
If you're not busy drowning a worm, your ONE job is to not scare the fish. (Unless you're driving the boat.)

Alivia's Fish

Simplicity

2010-07-12T15:52:00.000-07:00

You always find out how much stuff you really have when you move. You also realize how much you have that you don't use. Think about it. How much stuff do you have that you wouldn't miss if you didn't have it? Really? How much would you never know is gone? Those are the questions I asked myself, and am still asking myself, as I packed up my belongings and then unpacked them shortly thereafter. Going to Africa was a terrific lesson in how much I have that I don't need. For example, in a book I was recently reading, it said we use about 20% of our wardrobe 80% of the time. The author suggested moving everything you wear for a month to one side of the closet and seeing how much you use for yourself. Now I haven't done that, but I know even after all the cleaning out of my closet I have done in the last year and again when I moved, I still have way too many clothes. Every time I get rid of some of the clothes, it's easier to give away more. I have this ideal in my mind of a closet with tons of open space, of clothes that wave in the breeze. I admire people's ability to keep themselves to this lower amount which is so much better financially, spatially, and mentally. The author of the previous book I mentioned also stated it is better to buy three good quality outfits you love rather than 20 that aren't of good quality and that you don't totally love and will wear. I have certainly been guilty of liking something in the store and then realizing I'm not such a fan of it after all after a few weeks of looking at it in my closet.

When going through clothes, it's hard to get past the notion I could still wear the garment or even harder, I still wear it once in a great while. But really, how many clothes do I need? That is how many I should have. This ideally should go for everything I own. I don't need that many VHS movies (I only get my favorites on DVD), I don't need all that silverware or dishes, and I certainly don't need all those books. (The books are really hard for me to give away, though I have been known to do so... on occasion...)

This is a huge difference in questions. When you are going through items, don't ask, "Will I use it?" because you can nearly always justify that question with, "I may use that one day." Ask yourself, "Do I need it?" And I have to tell you with all honesty, most of the time, the answer is no. We, in actuality, only need a fraction of what we own. Now, I have seen homes with, by American standards, are extremely sparse and they are refreshing. On the end of the spectrum, I have seen homes absolutely packed with books and knick-knacks and pretty much, a lot of junk. (This is why I am concerned about the extent of my library at age 30. I don't want to be 60 and utterly surrounded with books.) Myself, I fall toward the spartan end of the spectrum but I'm not all the way there. I like having a few things around, some rugs, pictures, and beautiful things to make me feel like that is my home. My bedroom and kitchen are there. My living room could use a little more work in this area. It is all a work in progress.

The funny thing about "lightening the load" is it does just that. It lightens your load. It helps clear your mind mentally and I actually feel better having less stuff. There is less to clean, less to keep track of, less to deal with. The culture I live in will tell you that you will feel better with more stuff but this is not true, you actually feel worse! It is also so much easier to keep things clean when you have less stuff. If your house is messy, you either have too much stuff or you have kids. Actually, whether or not you have kids, you still probably have too much stuff. As I've given things away, I find my house stays a lot cleaner. The most cleaning I now have to do in my bedroom is make the bed. I love it. This coupled with the self-discipline of keeping things picked up, putting things away after I use them, has brought on a real miracle in my life! When I go to look for something, there it is! (Except for my keys, I still keep misplacing those.) Think about how much time you can then devote to other endeavours if you lessen your belongings and then organize the ones you have.

The trick to this whole thing after giving away the unneeded items is to not bring any more in. I am now very careful about bringing new items home. Not being a big fan of shopping anyway, it can still be a challenge when other people try to give away things to me instead of the other way around. I don't need them so I don't bring them home. (But I will warn you, if you come to my house, I will present you with a list of things I have to give away so if you come over, just ignore that part about taking things home with you.) Shopping is now quite fun. When I do need to go to a store, I can look at all the items for sale and think about how so much of it is just junk that simply takes up space and empties my bank account. I, and you, don't need it!

I know it can be hard to start in on this simplification process. Short of moving, the first step would be to start with one area: your clothes, books, movies, or kitchen items for example. Go through all these areas one by one. As you realize, as you certainly will, how good it feels to have less things and how you don't even miss them, you will feel more comfortable giving away more, the next layer if you will. There are clothes I am completely fine giving away now that I was not okay with before. Each layer that walks out my door is another layer I am now ready to release.

One of my inspirations for cleaning things out is A&E's show on hoarding. I am not a hoarder but I have kept things because I might use them one day and words from the show such as you are not your things and the question of would you rather live in the present and into the future or are you holding onto your past, have been very helpful. I highly recommend it. http://www.aetv.com/hoarders/index.jsp

Simplicity isn't just something for my schedule, or even my home, it is a way of life. It is something that can characterize every aspect of our lives. And once you live it out in one area, you will want to start integrating it into others.

You will notice throughout this post, I keep using the term give it away instead of get rid of it. Sometimes you do just need to get rid of it, unload it all at once. But I have tried to make sure it goes places where the things will be used, or at least given to a good cause. My clothes goes to a clothes closet at a local church and I gave a bunch of things to a non-profit hosting a rummage sale. Other things I have given to friends who wanted them, who would actually use them and enjoy the items. That in itself is it's own joy.

Making the Space for Change

2010-07-10T00:18:00.001-07:00

"Did you get the July notes?" "No, I don't remember getting them." "I sent them on July first." "Hmm. I'll double check when I get home." This, more or less, was the conversation Stacey and I had tonight after she looked at the On Tap website for July, a website I designed and regularly update at least monthly when she sends out the new newsletter. I have loved doing this for her. It's fun and creative and is for someone I deeply believe in. Most of the time, I've been pretty good at posting the notes very quickly after she sends them, some months, within the hour. But, for the last couple of months, it hasn't happened that quickly. Not quickly at all. One month, it was weeks before I finally updated the page. Even in my book, especially in my book, that is not cool.

Keeping the website up is normally one of my priorities, something that gets done right away, and the fact that it hasn't been is quite telling. My own website was months behind until I got it updated. And as you all know, blogging slacked off big time. Three things that are important to me, not to mention time with my journal, writing poetry, and creating quilts, all in the garbage can of the not-to-do-cause-I'm-too-busy pile. This stops now.

It came to a head just a week or two ago when I was meeting with my spiritual director and I couldn't settle into that place where I can really talk about what I'm experiencing and learning with God. It was a lot about just how busy I've been and she made the comment she didn't think I wanted to change. Wow. Those words stayed with me and I had to ask myself quite sincerely, do I want to change? Then, not too long after, a small accident happened to an object and I was near tears. I realized then and there I could not continue living my life the way I have been. At the edge, no real rest, no real space. I had to stop. So I cleared a couple of days in my schedule between house sitting jobs and headed to a friend's cabin in the woods at the roots of Mount Hood. No electricity, no running water. Just me and God for three nights and two full days, alone. Finally, I listened to his advice, "Come to a lonely place by yourselves and rest." I was restless. It took me the first full day to detox from business and constant stimulation.

With me, I brought the book, "Velvet Elvis" which I highly recommend. The author, Rob Bell, says we become addicted to the adrenaline of constant activity. It wears us out. It even kills us and I realized it was killing me in many ways. So I stopped. I sat. I looked at the trees. I listened to the birds. I walked. I read and I wrote. I rested. I even took a nap in the sun. I stayed by that cabin the entire day. It wasn't easy. That night, I laid out under the stars and enjoyed the view. Day two I woke up leisurely and set out for Lost Lake which is nearby. There is a hike around the lake of about 3.5 miles. You can walk it in an hour. If you do it right, you can take four. With frequent stops on the dock to play with the newts or to sit on the bench and listen to the birds, sit on the bank and read, or take off your shoes and wade, it is a lovely day to spend by the water with the mountain looming above.

It was on the hike I finally started soaking in the quieter rhythms, the stillness. When I got back to the cabin, I sat down to write and as I was still struggling with taking pencil to paper, I asked myself why? The answer that came is that it still felt like one more thing to do, not the center of what I'm made to do. So I decided to make some rules, some structure for myself so I could make sure I had the space and time needed to be more focused and purposeful about what I need to be doing. I can now only get on facebook three times a day and it cannot just be open for the illusion of company. I have to be doing something. I can only check my e-mail three times a day. My you-tube and hulu watching is two hours a week at the most. As I don't have television or read the paper, unless I'm house sitting, these are my time wasters. Not so much the e-mail, but really, how many times do you need to check it in one day? I am also working on being more intentionally about making time to write in my journal and to schedule time for quilting and time to write. Last of all, I am going to say "no" to things more often. Yes, they may be good, but there are better things that are mine to do. Oh, and one more thing, my cell phone will be turned off more often too.

The problem with letting whatever comes up fill your time is that your time will get filled up and not necessarily by anything important. I look at much of what I've spent my time on and realized it's all for nothing. It's wasted. Even the stuff that seems to be important, really isn't and the stuff, more importantly the people, that get cast aside, really are the important things to which I want to devote my time and energies. It has been said that if something or someone is really important to you, then you will make the time for them/it. If you are not doing or spending time with those things and people, then I, rather like my spiritual director, would question their real importance in your/my life. If you care about them enough, you and I will make the change.

I know it won't be easy and it's going to take constant discipline and adjustments for me every day. But I know if I am going to be able to write, create things with my hands, and find a job I can be passionate about, those things need space and I really do want to make that space. I want to be able to write poetry regularly, I want Stacey to know she can count on me to have the website updated. (She had sent the notes.) I want to hear God and it's hard to do when so much else is competing for my attention. I'm clearing it out and making the space for change.

Listen to the Wombat

2010-07-01T22:13:00.001-07:00

(Thanks Emily!)

A Very Important Something

2010-07-01T11:46:00.000-07:00

When I was at the women's conference, I felt I came so tightly wound, a state of "doing" I have since found to be a very common state of affairs among many friends. It seems the last few months have been incredibly hectic and busy for numerous people. We are a collective crew learning to create margins in our lives and especially learning how to keep them. It's not easy when you're used to operating at a high stress level, running your life by deadlines, flight schedules, and putting out fires. When you come down off of that tension either because you finally crash or at last realize how much it's taking out of you, it takes a while, 21 days I hear, to re-acclimate to having space to breathe.

This is the place I am now: re-grouping, re-acclimating, trying to hear and live by that natural rhythm of grace. It's not easy. While unpacking and cleaning my new apartment, I've been listening to a radio drama of the Narnia stories by C.S. Lewis. At one point while listening, I was laying by the fireplace and thought to myself, "I'm doing nothing. Hmm. Well, what is wrong with doing nothing?" For someone who tries to be so productive, to know that something was done by the end of the day, I'm coming to realize that "doing nothing" is actually doing a very important something. We have to have those moments of breath, those moments of quiet contemplation, of relaxation to give us space and a calm center, a place from which to draw strength and a wider perspective. How can you paint without thinking about the whole composition? How can you know a bar of music without hearing the whole song? There has to be time for fun, for play, for rest, for letting your mind wander, for doing nothing.

After such an intense period of moving, work, and travel, I'm struggling with the pace at which I'm getting other projects done. The list is long and filled with those large and small projects that need attending to but I find myself dragging my feet and I'm getting frustrated. I'm taking care of some of that stuff but it's taking longer than I want it to. I know that if I just sat down and worked really hard and intensely, I could get a lot done but I just can't do it. I can't keep going at that pace. I have to have time for breath. I have to realize that the pace of life I've been operating at isn't sustainable or even desirable. How can I help others, speak and write, if I can't take care of myself and the physical, emotional, and spiritual/soul nourishment I need? I write about margins but where are mine? Where is my space-filled structure of play and work?

I think my body knows better than my mind does in this case. I think for a while, I need to do more "nothing" than "something". I need to build up that reserve, make time to catch my breath, to stop and reflect, to make myself stop running. And yes, it feels like a bucket of cold water thrown in my face when I make myself be still. So much inside me is still moving, still thinking, that I have a very hard time just being still, sitting quietly and reflecting, listening. Last week when I saw my spiritual director, I had a difficult time doing this reflection, just being in that holy space with God. That more than anything else, loudly proclaimed the state of my heart.

So I am giving myself some grace. I am giving myself permission to go at a slower pace for a while, slower even than when I will have a good balance of work, play, and rest. For example, this morning I drove up to the seminary I attended for some time with a friend and mentor. After that, I was going to go hiking but as that got canceled, I am instead sitting in the library, enjoying being here in a place that meant so much to me and still does. I'm breathing in a place where I connected to God deeply and was transformed by the experience. It's where I learned to truly hear the song my soul sings and here without the other distractions of my life, I can hear it quite clearly again. I've missed those notes and that beautiful melody.

At the beginning of the women's conference, two weeks ago now, I remember telling God in the collective silence how tightly wound I felt. With compassion and gentleness in his voice, he replied, "We'll work on that." We worked on it with a basketball and hoop, we worked on it with playing cards, with shoes and a hiking trail. We worked on uncoiling me in a paddle boat on the lagoon and in the quiet moments I got to pull out a book and read. In those ways, he started taking the knot I tied myself into and unwinding, untangling the wires and threads. With gentle fingers he started prying me open, taking out the tension. It's a process I am still very much in. Tomorrow I am going out to where some friends are camping where I will have the freedom to walk, fish, write in my journal, and get lost in a good book. Next week between house sitting stints, I am hoping to go to a friend's cabin for more rest, time to enjoy being in the woods. If I can get myself quiet enough, I would love to write.

It's a hard process re-acclimating and learning to slow down, but it's much needed. I'm glad God didn't let me burn out completely before reigning me in. But operating like that, even though we may not realize it at the time, is actually quite destructive, not just to ourselves, but also to those around us. We don't have space for them. Conversations that need to be deep are shallow and touches needing to be made are never given. We fill our lives up with what we think needs to be done that we forget the things that really do. We forget the people, the leisurely talks and prayers, the time to touch another life, unplanned. If we strain to keep hurrying along, we will miss nearly everything to relish in along the way.

I know I don't want to live like that. I want to have the time to look at a painting, to spontaneously go out for coffee with a new friend, to be in those places God gives me where I have something to give from him, and something to receive. I don't want to be concentrating so hard on cooking for myself that I don't hear God knocking on the door with a dish of his own to share. I just don't. So here I am, learning to breathe, taking the time, slowing myself down so I can hear God moving. That in itself is a gift of grace: hearing him move. And now, when I clearly hear the difference between what it sounds like when he moves and when I move, I have to say, I much prefer the sound of him and if this is what it takes, sitting in front of my fireplace doing "nothing", then I am all for it. I am all for shutting up, being quiet, and hearing him. It's high time I did.

Alicia in Africa, Journey to the Motherland

2010-06-23T23:00:00.000-07:00

Sitting on the floor of my apartment with a girlfriend of mine, we talked about how our lives are percieved by the money and material goods we have. As it turns out, neither of us felt comfortable with the labels most people in Western culture would place upon us after judging by these standards. For myself, I feel extraordinarily wealthy. I have a nice, clean, one bedroom apartment all to myself. Do you know how amazing that is? There is a comfortable bed in my bedroom, a computer to type on, sanitary plumbing, and food in the kitchen. Clean water comes out of the faucet whenever I want. I own a working car and I have some money stashed away in savings. WOW...

This friend is heading to Africa next year. While talking about the sporadic rains and the drought, she wondered why the people didn't just store the excess food during the good years if they knew the drought was coming? How do you explain there is no excess food much less a secure place to store it if there was any or even the knowledge of what the weather would be like? How do you explain to someone who is also well-off that starving is a way of life for many even in the good times. How do you explain droughts in Kenya to someone who has never know lack of water?

Africa won't let me go. Seeing people struggling under that much weight, seeing what life is like there profoundly changed me. Meeting my brothers and my sisters, hearing, seeing their spirits, it really moved me and made me realize a very different view of myself and the world.

I came across this documentary on hulu which I watched tonight. It holds so many of the things I wish I could show you all for yourselves, touches on so many of the issues my heart is crying out for. Alicia speaks so much truth I too, have taken to the core of my being. It's around 44 minutes, I hope you'll watch it.

Alicia in Africa, Journey to the Motherland

Conference Update

2010-06-19T09:14:00.001-07:00

Since Wednesday, I haven't checked for any messages on my phone or went onto Facebook. Do you know how good that feels? It's been nice to disconnect in those ways and to release myself from them for a while. It is one of the things I learned in Kenya, how nice it can be to disconnect from technology. (And here I am writing on my blog.)

I admit to you, I am writing this during the business meeting. Come to think of it, I did this in Kenya too. Yesterday was my full day. I spoke in the afternoon plenary on the young adult panel, then led a workshop on "Spirit Rising: Young Quaker Voices", followed by the author's night after dinner where five of us read from recently published books. It's nice to have a more relaxed day today before heading out tomorrow.

Honoring Our Elders

2010-06-18T22:11:00.000-07:00

I walked through the brush, trying to spot a gravestone. I wanted to see them still covered up. I knew they were there, somewhere, but couldn't see any but the ones that were already cleared. Deb was nearby on the other side of trees. She had walked there before but I had asked to go there with her before I had to be back for an afternoon meeting. It was beautiful out there and stories just begged to be told. There were three little markers for a still-born baby and two other other young ones next to it. Nearby, was the grave of the mother who died at the young age of 27 just years before 1900. Another gravestone marked the site of the body for a four year old boy. They had died at all ages but there were some, I'm sure, heartbreaking stories among them. As if death is anything but.

We then came across Fred and Eloise Just, the couple who are restoring this old cemetery, bush by bush, marker by marker. Fred's family is buried here as are many he knew having grown up in the area. It is his way of honoring of those who have walked this way before us clearing the way for him. Now he is clearing the way in turn so people can remember them. For being at a conference on mentoring and eldering, it was a poetic reminder to honor those who have had a hand in shaping us into the people we are and honoring their memory. I'm looking forward to coming back one day and seeing such memory in full bloom. What a beautiful thing.

Letting Go

2010-06-17T13:57:00.000-07:00

We arrived to the Pacific Northwest Quaker Women's Theology Conference yesterday in the late afternoon. The grounds are beautiful. To get here, you have to cross a wooden bridge over a lagoon where at the end, you can turn around and gaze at the beautiful bay of water before you surrounded by trees and a range of mountains shaded in blue on the other side. All the houses and building on the grounds are on a green gently sloping hill that comes to rest at the lagoon with trees lining the backside.

It feels good to finally get to relax, let go. Yesterday I found the basketball court and a bin full of various balls nearby. Throwing baskets, oddly enough, helps me find that flowing peace, or at least encourages me along the trail! It helps unwind me, find the rhythm, a joyful movement. Seeing as how I am with nearly sixty Quaker women, you can imagine I don't have much competition for the basketball hoop.

As I've walked the grounds over the last day, I keep walking past the dock with boats tied up just asking to be taken out. Each time I go by, I think to myself, "How much trouble would I get in if I took one out for a spin?" Then at lunch, Ashley assured me we had full privledges to use the boats! Wahoo! So while scoping out the territory, I met a woman from Seattle who likes to go swimming and after checking out the swimming area which is very green if you know what I mean, I persuaded her to take out a paddle boat with me for a while. It was a great time but lets just say after five years of tap dancing, my legs are nowhere near the condition I thought they were in. I think there is some bicycling in my future.

I like how Sarah P. and Ashley planned the schedule. There is nothing we have to attend, it is all optional. I'm going to the plenaries and the home groups but the silent worship is out along with some of the singing. It feels really good to say no, to claim free time instead where I can do whatever I want without having to be anywhere in particular at all. This is actually a great growth point for me. Years ago, I would have tried to atend everything, no matter whether I liked it or not, and would have very succesfully burned myself out. Now, knowing I was already coming into this quite burnt out, I am giving myself the gift of space, of time, of a good book and hot tea. If I need a holy excuse, not that I do, I could claim I need the space for all the things I will be doing tomorrow: speaking at the plenary session, giving a workshop, and reading from "Spirit Rising" at an author's party in the evening. Some conferences have talent nights, women's theology conferences have author parties. hahaha!

I've already broken the no food in your room rule (so I hope no one at the conference is reading this) and I don't care. This is to be a restful time for me as well as for many others I hear. While doing the volunteer cordinating for this, I talked over the phone with another young woman named Erin who had heard about me through a mutual friend. Waiting for lunch, we got to actually meet and talk face-to-face a little bit and in the course of the discussion, found out we were both extroverted, had our noses pierced, she is a makeup artist and there is purple in my hair. After those revelations, we figured we will get along just fine. It felt good to meet another young woman who also feels the frustration of being in a group surrounded by introverts when we are verbal processors. Even in the Quakers, even in a group that are mostly unprogrammed Quakers, we can still find each other. It's nice to know.

An Exchange of Colors

2010-06-17T13:52:00.000-07:00

This is the paper I wrote for the Pacific Northwest Quaker Women's Theology Conference in Seabeck, Washington. (Now in progress.) The theme is mentoring and eldering and we had to reflect on that topic for 1-2 pages.
_____________________________

"This girl needs her nose pierced!" That critique is the only shortfall my friend, Leonora, could come up with on an internship evaluation form after I finished helping her with her youth group at St. Mary’s Catholic Church. At the time, I laughed at the words. Years later, I remedied the fault and blamed it on her. I can’t blame her for the purple hair but between the two, they are a lived out reminder and lesson of what she taught me: don’t take yourself too seriously and laugh at yourself often. Though definitely in a class by herself with the wash away sin soap and Jesus bobble heads on her desk, she is one of the many women I’ve known who have left a deep mark in my life as an adult, one of the beautiful women I have learned from and who have taught me how beautiful such relationships can be.

I have this idea about such relationships, that we each enter the world as a box of crayons of all one color. As we live our lives, we come into contact with other people and exchange our colors, red for blue, purple for yellow. We meet and come to know those people whose colors we most need, the ones we are missing from our huge life-size Crayola boxes. With each person, our lives can be colored with a wider variety of colors. We grow, we learn, and our artistic renditions are brighter and fuller of the spectrum of the Divine light God casts through our souls. Lee is a yellow crayon. I know of another who is purple and another who is green. My life is richer for having their colors streaked across my life, painted onto my soul’s canvas. I am grateful for them.

I would most assuredly call these women my mentors, even my guides. However, I know these relationships are never one sided as the word “mentor” seems to imply. They are definitely an exchange of colors, an exchange of Divine gifts, showing his face in a new way through each other. One cannot be in a mentoring relationship without mutuality, a common respect. The purple needs the yellow, the red needs the blue. Lee enjoyed having me there as much as I enjoyed assisting her. It can sometimes seem like taking on yet another responsibility when deciding to mentor another person, but the rewards can be far greater than the effort we put into the relationship. Just as God delights in his relationships with us, so we can delight in the relationships with those we teach and “help” for we will always be taught and helped as the Divine spark flows from one to another in this, an exchange of colors.

Walk With Me

2010-06-15T22:49:00.000-07:00

It is one of those beautiful nights after a thunderous storm has rolled through and the air is now fresh and clean. Everything is moved, substituting for the school year is over, all the volunteer positions have been assigned and I am sitting by a fireplace in Vancouver in the still calm with a friend nearby. Deep breath.

In the morning I will leave for the Pacific Northwest Quaker Women's Theology Conference. Despite the fact I'm speaking a few different times (which I am looking forward to), I am viewing the coming days as a vacation, a time to rest, take walks, read, write, and spend time getting to know an intriguing bunch of women. The topic for this conference is mentoring. I wrote a paper for it, which I will post on here, but there are more things I would like to share with you all.

Over the last several days, I have spent time with some of the women who have mentored me over the last few years, women who have taught me a great deal, vocally and by example. They have shared of themselves, their talents, and encouraged talents of my own. As I've talked with them, I have repeatedly felt grateful to God for giving me time with these women, grateful I've had the blessing of sharing the road with them for this period of our lives. I respect their work and delight in hearing about what they are thinking, sharing their fascination with areas of interest, new projects. I have a deep respect for women (and men) such as these who study, who explore the world around us, who think about the wider world. My life is so much richer because of them, the colors are far more vivid because of their presence, the aura they leave behind. How many times can you say "I am grateful?" How many ways can you say "Thank you"? I feel like what these women have taught me, though I am certainly still growing and learning, is now coming from the inside and no longer only the voices I externally hear. It's not just what they have taught me that has added so greatly to my life, it's that they helped me live out of my truer self, they walk(ed) with me on the journey to my own soul and talked with me there. I am so glad, in different ways, we still walk together.

Tightly Wound

2010-06-13T16:30:00.000-07:00

Life, of late, has been on the crazy side. I've kept telling myself to pull through to June 20th and then I can see where the dust settles and take things from there. In actuality, I am looking forward to Tuesday night, June 15th, when I officially leave town for the Pacific Northwest Quaker Women's Theology Conference. True, I am giving a workshop, speaking on a young adult plenary panel, and am reading my piece from "Spirit Rising" during a book party, oh, and I am one of two vollunteer coordinators, but with the way things are right now, I still consider this a break. Scary huh?

For the last several weeks, I have been working on packing up my old apartment, moving to a new one in another part of town, cleaning the old one, and then unpacking and SERIOUSLY lightening my load in the new one. That's been a great process to go through and one I am sure I will be writing about. I have also been working every day for the schools which is fantastic of course, it has just meant work by day, moving by night and a lot of things that have needed to be done, got pushed away for a couple of weeks. It has been my lesson in learning sometimes we dissapoint people and that is okay, sometimes balls do get dropped which leads to lesson number 2: I have been juggling way too many balls.

With "Spirit Rising" now out and selling, I sold 12 this morning at West Hills Friends Church, and the new apartment in some level of order, the school year is ending, and the conference approaching, I feel the pressure just beginning to ebb. I have been a tight metal spring, wound way too tight. I met with my editors yesterday and am looking forward to writing my poetry again, to releasing all that pressure and starting anew. I am hoping at the conference I'll have time for hiking, writing, talking with friends, speaking, and just getting to do what I do best. A deep and slow breath. I have to admit, I'm bringing my computer too as I'm hoping to get some things on here taken care of as well which will definately help the stress levels. But relaxation will come first. I'm hoping to blog too as I understand there is internet I can connect to.

His Strength is Perfect

2010-06-04T12:02:00.000-07:00

Earlier this week, I was substituting in my friend, Carol's classroom at a local high school. It was the end of the day and we were talking when a girl came in looking for a friend who was supposed to work with her on a speech she had to give. The more she told us about the project, the more upset she became to the point it felt absolutely overwhelming to her and she was ready to cry. I knew exactly how she felt.

For several weeks now, I have been working on moving: packing, cleaning, giving away, unpacking, recycling, garbage, and some more cleaning. It has been an overwhelming task at times and I am well past the burn out point. I work all day at my job then go to one of the two apartments to work on things there. After a whole week of moving things over to my new apartment across town, I almost have everything out of the old one and am working on an extensive cleaning. When I get tired of that, I go to my new apartment and unpack which also involves a lot of cleaning as the last tenants decided against taking on that task. Quite frankly, I'm tired. It feels like a triathlon and I am on the last leg without much strength in my feet. The people who came to help surprised me. A friend from the theatre, a friend from church, two women I've known for years, and a guy I've met only once all came. A very new friend came to help us unload one afternoon and cousins of a neighbor helped me carry things upstairs. I am immensely grateful to these kind folk.

By Monday, my roommate and I have to have the old place all cleaned. We've been working on it when we can. The task seems so huge. I've already done so much moving, I am right where that girl was, overwhelmed and upset. Facing the rest of the task feels so huge. So, I've started singing this song to myself that you've probably heard:

"His strength is perfect when our strength is gone. He'll carry us when we can't carry on! Raised in his power, the weak become strong. His strength is perfect, his strength is perfect."

Carole and I, seeing how upset she was, helped her by talking out the project with her and breaking it up piece by piece and telling her that she already knew a lot about the topic, which she did. By the time she headed out the door, she was feeling so much better and by helping someone else, so did I.

Head Out of a Box

2010-05-24T00:27:00.000-07:00

I decided to take my head out of a box and my fingers from around the tape dispenser to take a breathe on my blog. My life is surrounded by boxes lately and it will continue to be surrounded by boxes for a while. After 3 1/3 years, I am moving out of my apartment to a one bedroom in another part of town. I want to know what it's like to live on my own without a roommate. I've never had that experience and I think it's high time I did. So tonight I packed my great-grandmother's and grandmother's cookbooks into a box along with tea that has seemed to mate and multiply in the cupboard. I have lost track of how many boxes it's taking to pack up my library, I am probably up to 14 or 15 small to medium sized boxes by now. I don't know how that happens, I think they are mating too.

By the way, if any of you in the area need a octagon shaped table with leaf and four chairs, come on down! I also have a plethora of left-over containers. They are all now "fixed" so they stop growing in number.

I am excited to settle in to where I will be living as strange as that will feel at the same time as grieving leaving here. I have loved this apartment, gotten along extremely well with the managers and I really like my next door neighbors. However, I realize this place, this area of town, has become an ivory tower for me, my place of safety, and it's time to kick myself out of the tower. But this is the first place that has felt like home to me in a very long time. I am hoping the new place will be home too, maybe even more so than this one has since it's all my own.

Lately, life has been so full. Much has fallen to the side of the to-do pile, many things that need to get to get done and aren't done. I am trying to remember to take the time for myself that I need for nourishment and refreshment but between the speaking, working, moving, and a whole host of other projects, I feel like the best I can do right now is put out the fires and occasionally a bit more. Still there is joy in the midst of it all. Yesterday evening I went to see a show in Portland, something I hadn't done for a long time and it felt like me saying, "Oh Sarah, there you are! I've missed you." When I woke up this morning, the dark cloud I have been sleeping under lately was gone. That felt really good. God has also been busy bringing people into my life that needed me at that moment, people who's lives I am humbled to touch. It's nice to know in the midst of it all, God is still shining through me. He likes reminding me through this way that he/she does have purpose in my life. It's nice to see some of that.

I hope to get back to posting here more often, I love writing on this blog. I even have some great pictures to share! But for now, I am headed to bed. I have a full work day tomorrow but it's my favorite subbing job, that will be fun. It's always nice to know what you're doing at work and I can pick this job right up. I hope you are all enjoying May!

Free Fall

2010-05-16T23:28:00.000-07:00

Free Fall from ProlifikFilms on Vimeo.

I Drove...

2010-05-12T23:19:00.000-07:00

Today I had a forty-five minute lunch. After warming up the dish I brought, I decided I would rather eat in my car than in that staff room. So I got in my car, turned on the ignition and headed for the freeway. I drove. I just drove. I needed to be away from, well, everything. I needed to shed my skin and simply be a soul. Windows unrolled, wind rushing over my skin and blowing my hair, I headed south, not really knowing where I was going. I figured I would drive until I needed to turn back and I didn't turn around until a viewpoint in the Ankenny Reserve, one of the places I go when I need to breathe. I miss the mountains. Ankenny isn't a mountain but it was the closest I could get to one today. It was the closest place I could get to that reminded me of who I am, an eternal soul loved and created by God. That is what the mountains speak to me. That is what I hear. I am so happy the weather is finally warming up to a point I can return to them and wash myself in their timeless voices.

One End or the Other

2010-05-08T15:47:00.000-07:00

The last half of this week, my books kept coming up in different conversations. On Wednesday, a friend from the theatre shared with me that his daughter, who has my second book, used one of the poems for a school report. Then on Thursday, I ran into a friend from the seminary at the school she now teaches at and she whispered something to a boy I was working with about me being an author. To top that off, on Friday, I was talking with another substitute teacher who had asked if I was writing a poem. Caught in the act, I admitted to the crime and let him read it. He then shared one of his own which I really liked. This is the one I wrote:

One End or the Other

One end of the stick,

standing high in the

dirt of the earth,

looking to the sun,

sinking in the mud below.

To grab the top, to

hold the heights,

stretching, reaching

beyond yourself,

too much, too high.

The other end,

flat on the ground,

holding the base,

the bottom,

shaking, mud-

filled hands.

No movement,

no rain, no sun,

no leaves turned to the sky,

only the rocks below.

One end or the other,

one impossibly high,

the other with no where to go.

Two ways to be,

to live - or not...

but what if, instead,

the middle?

Walking, holding,

exploring the trail,

using the stick as a guide,

a companion along the way

to steady the feet,

to trust the road ahead,

learning to see

the forest in the trees.

Where is Sarah?

2010-05-04T13:24:00.000-07:00

Hello friends. Were you wondering where I had gone? Life has been very full lately and I am learning the importance of margins because I don't feel like I have them. I know things are really busy and intense right now so I am trying to work through that at the same time as trying to figure what I can cut out so I can once again do those things that refresh me like hiking and quilting. I need those times, those naps in the park and long walks. I miss them.

These are the looming tasks that have pushed me out to the edge of the paper:

-Now that the book is published, the publicity begins. As the Publicity Coordinator, I am helping people connect and getting events going for groups around the world who want to talk about the book. If you are interested in doing one of these, (you might even be able to get me there depending on where it is), let me know! This is the website for the book and you can also buy them from me for $17.50. http://www.quakerbooks.org/

-I am moving! I am not sure where yet, within the Salem/Keizer, Oregon area at least, but I have been working hard on finding a one bedroom apartment somewhere where I can find out what living on my own is really like. I have always had roommates and was thinking of continuing that when I came to realize how nice it would be to have my own place. So I have been hitting the streets, making phone calls, and will start viewing apartments this week before making my selection. I want someplace safe with a little greenery. I think it's high time I had that single adult crappy apartment experience. I will let you all know who live nearby when the moving day is just in case you would like to lend a hand. :o) It would be immensely appreciated. Does anyone have any boxes lying around I could use?

- Now that the big trips are over, my schedule is clear to really look (and find!) a job I can invest in. I would like to find one that at least involves some writing, editing, and hopefully, even some presenting. I want to be able to use my gifts while gaining new skills. Meanwhile, I am still substituting with the schools and enjoying the challenges each day brings.

- I have a tap dancing recital coming up next Sunday at 3. (Tickets are $5.) I am looking forward to the show and at the same time, looking forward to being able to lay tap dancing down for a while. I need some things off my plate, my knees are ready for a break, and the evening class has been moved to 4 pm when I will hopefully be working. I have loved dancing with On Tap for the last 5 years, it has meant a great deal to me and I have grown so much through the lessons learned and the friends made but I am ready for a breather.

As you can probably guess, I have lots of other irons continuously in the fire, little and large, but these are the big ones right now. If you are the praying type, please pray that I create the margins I need to sustain myself and that I have the wisdom and courage to make the decisions that need to be made. Thank you everyone, you are a joy.

The Last Day of the QUIP Conference

2010-04-27T09:45:00.001-07:00

The last day of QUIP was a fun time to hang out and say goodbye to our friends. I hope you all enjoyed our time together. I look forward to talking with you about promotions for Spirit Rising!

This is the upstairs in the house the young adults slept in. It was a great house and it worked really well for us.

Many of us had laptops there, many of whom I would like to thank for lending them to me, including Liz Yeats below, so I could post here to my blog.

Not exactly the pictures you would expect to see from the last day of the QUIP conference but six of us on the board thought it would be fun to go to Katrina's friend's farm for some play time with the baby goats. They were extremely friendly and we had a delightful time cuddling them! One in particular wanted to crawl into everyone's laps and another was particularly fond of my hair.

Sylvia, the General Secretary for Friends United Meeting, took John and I to her home in Indianapolis after lunch to hang out there before she brought me to the airport in the evening. I had the chance to spend some time with her at her office on Quaker Hill a few days before but it was great to spend even more time with her that afternoon. Thank you Sylvia! The lights of home. Well, almost. I live an hour away but they still count.

Saturday at QUIP Conference

2010-04-27T09:05:00.000-07:00

Saturday morning we had our worship service led by Harriet who passed around white paper in the shape of doves. On our paper, she instructed us to write our dreams and hopes for the book then release them into the "sky". May the book have a life of its own just like the birds.

Lunch time!
Ice cream sundaes were fantastic!

Harriet and Evelyn
Wess during lunch.

Spirit Rising is now available and for sale!

John Epur Lomuria and Emma Condori Mamani

Open Mike Night

Two of our contributors who attended the release.
Eight of us young adults went out to Smiley's: Old English Pub after Open Mike Night. However, as much fun as we had, and we had lots of laughs, Harriet assures me it is a new English pub, not anything like an old one. (Harriet is from England so she would know.)