marriage – Salvaged Faith

The art of cuddling

Posted on January 30, 2020Leave a comment

I remember as a little girl when my mom would sit leaning on her side on the sofa and I could curl up in the cozy little spot that her legs made. It felt like it was a spot just for me. A place of safety and warmth and love.

As an adult, my spouse and I don’t have children – but we do have cats that like to cuddle.

Turbo is very extra particular about how he likes to cuddle. Usually, it is at the most inconvenient time (like when you are sleeping) and he has to be touching a minimum of two body parts at once (like an arm and your chest, or your head and your neck, or your leg and your stomach) and it takes him 15 minutes of moving around and going back and forth before he flops down exactly where he wants to be.

Tiki on the other hand wants a spot that is just far enough away for him to be self-differentiated. He’s a cat after my own heart, because his favorite spot is the same one I gravitated towards as a child, snuggled in the bend of a leg when someone is reclining or sleeping.

During this time away on renewal leave, I’ve had some really great time available to cuddle with my spouse. For some reason, cuddle time had been relegated to bedtime and we had found ourselves in the habit of keeping our own spaces the rest of the day. On the couch there is often a throw pillow or a whole cushion between us. Or we find ourselves in separate rooms all together, watching our own shows or doing our own thing. That is when I’m not spending my evenings and weekends at church.

But one afternoon last week, we cuddled on the chaise together for nearly two hours in the middle of the afternoon. There was nothing on the television… it was just us. We watched it snow. We giggled. We made plans for the coming week. We discussed some things we had been neglecting. We simply rested in one another’s presence. It was a place full of warmth and safety and love.

It struck me how long it has been since we had simply spent that time with one another… in not just close physical proximity, but that mental and emotional and spiritual kind of way, too. In that kind of way that blurs the line between where one begins and another ends.

I’ve been reading Cloud and Townsend’s book “Boundaries” during my renewal leave ( I have a lot of thoughts about this book – some positive and others not so much – but that’s probably another blog post), and one of the key messages throughout is that bonding is key to building good boundaries. In order to set boundaries, you need to know that you are loved, safe, and accepted. You need to know that in conflict, those things don’t and won’t change.

It’s why that space curled up with my mom was so important as a kid. I knew that no matter what, she was going to be there for me.

It was vital in the early stages of my relationship with Brandon. We would sit for hours in the back of his truck and cuddle up stargazing. We would sit close at movies with arms around one another. We would hold hands in the parking lot at school and talk until it got dark. Whenever we traveled with family, especially in those early years, I could tell the anxiety of the new places and people and relationships could all be soothed away at night when we snuggled in close together… just the two of us.

But it is also something that my spouse and I have been neglecting a bit in our relationship. When our time was occupied with chores and dinner and television watching an arms length apart, we were not reinforcing that message for one another. And in fact, some of the other messages we were sending had nearly the opposite effect.

We’ve been cuddling a bit more. Creating space for one another on the couch while watching a show. Intentionally stopping by one another’s space even when doing separate things to offer a squeeze or rub a shoulder or just cuddle for a minute. And taking time to literally stop everything and simply be present with one another.

I think it’s helping us to re-establish for one another that safe place of acceptance and love that has allowed us to engage in some other conversations in our life with a different sort of energy.

Are you really helping?

Posted on January 23, 2020Leave a comment

One of the first lessons I have learned on this renewal leave: just because you think you are helping doesn’t mean you actually are.

You have to ask.

You have to find out what they really need.

You have to probe beyond their own discomfort and go a little deeper.

You have to listen.

For over a year, my spouse has had an ankle injury that has gone untreated. Like previous sprains or twists, he had followed the tried and true instructions of RICE – rest, ice, compression, elevation. It got better. But then it didn’t.

And for a year, I’ve been trying to figure out how I can help.

Offering to do things that would reduce time on his ankle.

Compromising and not going on the hikes or walks that I’ve wanted to take with him.

Gently encouraging him to see a doctor.

Nagging him to see a doctor.

Asking how it was feeling.

But what I never asked was: what kind of help do you need from me?

I took on his problem as if it were my own and tackled it in a thousand ways, but I never actually asked him what would be beneficial to him as he worked out solving the problem.

I ended up in the ER in mid-December with what turned out to be heartburn. But at the time it felt like I was dying and it wasn’t getting any better and while I sat on the bathroom floor in tears, he sat next to me and asked – “what do you need?”

And what I needed was to know that I was going to be okay and the only way to do that, after googling symptoms and having these red boxes keep appearing that said “go to the ER”, was to go get it checked out.

We had different plans for that morning: Christmas shopping followed by lunch out together. Instead, we spent the morning there, with him right by my side, and me feeling more than a little foolish when the GI cocktail worked to relieve my pain.

A couple weeks later, that trip to the hospital came up again. But he was frustrated and upset and it wasn’t about the time or the money. It was because he felt like I hadn’t done the same for him.

I realized that I had never sat down with him, really listening to his fears. I hadn’t taken the time to ask him what he needed. His fears about what could be wrong, anxiety about navigating the scheduling, it had in some ways paralyzed him from taking the one step he needed to take. What he needed, the only thing he really needed, was for me to call and schedule an appointment.

Crap.

Do you know how many times I had thought about doing that? How many times I was frustrated with him for not doing so? How often I wanted to force him to go… but then backed away from that idea because I thought he would find it to be over bearing or insulting.

What if I had just asked?

What if instead of trying to fix his problems on my own, I had sat down with him and listened to what he needed and what I could do.

What if I had bypassed the assumptions and set aside all of the drama and stress and distraction in my life and had just asked:

“What do you need?”

How many times in ministry do we encounter similar problems? Someone walks into our office with a personal crisis. A staff member is having difficulty accomplishing a task. A committee is paralyzed by lack of involvement.

How often do we jump to problem-solving and offering solutions and doing the work for them? How many times have I taken on the burden of their situation and have wrestled with a thousand ways to help?

What do they actually need?

Maybe the answer is far simpler than we imagine.

Thoughts on “UMC: Revisiting Human Sexuality”

Today, I saw an article by Rev. Dr. Steve Harper, the former Vice President and Dean of the Florida Campus of Asbury Theological Seminary called “UMC: Revisiting Human Sexuality.” He writes about a topic that has arisen at every General Conference in my lifetime… and will again in May.

My only experience of this discussion at the GC level was that of entrenchment, pain, and grief. Nobody really listened to one another. Everyone stuck to their talking points. And those who are most closely and personally impacted by our current position – LGBTQ persons (lay and clergy and their allies) – felt like they had no choice but to interrupt proceedings in order to be heard. I wrote about that day as it happened and you can read it, if you want, here.

But he brings up four points to bear in mind in May. He claims the terms of the conversation have changed since 1972; there is new information that needs to be heard:

Scholarly work has shown you can be a “biblical Christian” and hold a non-traditional view of the “clobber passages.”
Scientific research has transformed how we understand human sexuality.
the actual witness of LGBTQ Christians – “There is no doubt that gay Christians are living as faithful disciples and serving effectively as clergy.”
Our myopic view on LGBTQ persons has kept us from the conversation we should be having about human sexuality and ethical behavior in general.

Points one and three are probably the ones that have the most impacted my own position on this topic. I simply do not read six verses of scripture the same way some in our church do. But I firmly believe that we are all doing our best to be faithful to the scriptures. And perhaps my reading is impacted by my experience and relationships with LBGTQ persons… in the same way that our understanding of verses like 1 Timothy 2:12 has been impacted by the experience of women actually teaching (umm… like myself….). I can’t read those passages the same way after knowing the couple with three adopted kids who sat on the church board. Or the pastors who have challenged me with the gospel and provided care and comfort in difficult times. Or the friend who turned his back on a promiscuous life, found Jesus Christ, and is now happily married to the man of his dreams.

I think of all Rev. Dr. Harper’s points, maybe the fourth is the most compelling reason to change the conversation. I think of that friend I just mentioned who wasn’t able to separate his sexuality from his behaviors because he thought the church was rejecting all of it… until finally he heard that God loved him as a gay man and he found the ability to make different choices. Or the dinner conversation I just had at Easter about marriage: if the only criteria we use to define marriage is that it is between one man and one woman, then we lose our ability to speak about abuse, covenants, respect, mutual love, and a whole host of other biblical principals… and in fact, we ignore much of what the bible actually says about marriage (some of which, we happily reject).

I pray fervently that we can all truly hear one another at General Conference this year. I hope that the alternative process for these conversations might bear fruit – if we have the courage to vote for and use them on this topic. Above all, I pray that God would guide us and help us to be faithful, honest, and gentle with one another and show us a path forward as a people.

Near the Beginning… (NaBloPoMo)

Posted on November 8, 2015Leave a comment

This morning, let’s go back… to nearly the beginning of the story… and do some genealogy.

Pastor Todd and I are going to start us off this morning with Matthew chapter 1, verses 1-6… from the Voice translation:

1 This is the family history, the genealogy, of Jesus the Anointed, the coming King. You will see in this history that Jesus is descended from King David, and that He is also descended from Abraham.

It begins with Abraham, whom God called into a special, chosen, covenanted relationship, and who was the founding father of the nation of Israel.

²Abraham was the father of Isaac; Isaac was the father of Jacob; Jacob was the father of Judah and of Judah’s 11 brothers; ³Judah was the father of Perez and Zerah (and Perez and Zerah’s mother was Tamar);

Tamar was Judah’s widowed daughter-in-law; she dressed up like a prostitute and seduced her father-in-law, all so she could keep this very family line alive.

Perez was the father of Hezron; Hezron was the father of Ram; ⁴Ram was the father of Amminadab; Amminadab was the father of Nahshon; Nahshon was the father of Salmon; ⁵Salmon was the father of Boaz (and Boaz’s mother was Rahab);

Rahab was a Canaanite prostitute who heroically hid Israelite spies from hostile authorities who wanted to kill them.

Boaz was the father of Obed (his mother was Ruth, a Moabite woman who converted to the Hebrew faith); Obed was the father of Jesse; ⁶and Jesse was the father of David, who was the king of the nation of Israel. David was the father of Solomon (his mother was Bathsheba, and she was married to a man named Uriah);

As Matthew prepares to tell us the story of Christ’s birth, he feels compelled to share with us this family tree.

An unexpected family tree.

It includes widows and adulteresses and prostitutes… and those are just the women!

So let us listen today, for how God moves through unexpected people and in unexpected ways to bring to us a redeemer…

****

Our scripture for this morning comes from the book of Ruth. It is the story of Naomi and her husband Elimelech had two sons and they lived in Bethlehem.

But a famine took over the land so they became refugees. They fled from hunger and made their way to Moab, which was enemy territory.

We might see their faces in the images of refugees from Syria and Iraq and northern Africa today… Camping in muddy fields, clothes wet from the journey, their only possessions what they could carry, completely unsure if they will be welcomed wherever they arrive.

When they finally get to a place of relative safety, Elimelech dies, leaving Naomi and her two boys, Mahlon and Kilion.

Years pass and they grow up and they each marry Moabite women… Ruth and Orpah.

But then one son after the other die.

Naomi has lost her homeland, her husband, and her two sons. There is no one left to carry on her family line or to bring her protection.

In this culture and time, when one son died and left the family childless, a brother or relative would provide security by marrying the daughter-in-law and preserving property and lineage. This kinsman redeemer would save the family by doing whatever it took to protect them.

But Naomi was far from home, no relatives to speak of, her situation was desperate and hopeless.

She plans to return to Bethlehem, to live as a widow… she is content to beg for the rest of her sad and bitter life.

And she tries to send her daughters-in-law away… to give them the opportunity for a fresh start, a new life.

But Ruth sticks with her.

Ruth refuses to leave Naomi’s side.

And Ruth makes the journey back to Bethlehem with her… not knowing what the future would hold, but determined to play a part in making sure both of them would be taken care of.

Think about a time when you felt like Naomi… when everything around you was falling apart.

Turn and share with your neighbor this morning:

What got… or is getting you through it?

Who do you turn to for help?

Naomi had reached rock bottom in her life.

Everything was gone, everything was lost.

As she and Ruth make the journey back to Bethlehem, she begs people to call her Mara – The Bitter One.

She is grieving, lonely, and depressed.

But Ruth is there to act.

Ruth takes the initiative to provide for them by gleaning grain from the fields.

And while she is out working, a man named Boaz sees her, treats her kindly, and seeds of hope are planted.

That is where our scripture picks up today.

Naomi realizes that Boaz was a relative, someone who could marry Ruth and redeem their family property and provide an heir.

She lays out a plan for Ruth to present herself to Boaz as a potential wife.

He is intrigued and after going through all the proper channels, Boaz is please to marry this Moabite woman to protect her family. They give birth to a child, Obed, and Naomi is redeemed.

None of us would be sitting here today if it were not for Ruth.

A fellow pastor, Jennifer Andrews-Weckerly, writes:

“Ruth is called a woman of hayil – a Hebrew word usually reserved for men – meaning strength, power, warrior-like capabilities. Though by our modern standards Ruth seems be subservient, in actuality, given the text and the time, she was an amazingly powerful woman. She refuses to take no for an answer (from Naomi or Boaz), she secures the livelihood of her family, she boldly takes on a new life in the face of seeming destruction, and she births the grandfather of David…”

Without Ruth, there would be no King David… no 23^rd Psalm… no continuing lineage that will take us all the way to Joseph and Mary and Jesus in Bethlehem.

She is a foreigner in a strange land.

She lost her own husband and then gave up everything she knew to support Naomi and work to provide for her.

Ruth did whatever she needed to do without question or complaint.

In my bible, the heading for the final section of our reading for today says “Boaz redeems Ruth.”

And technically, according to the rituals and traditions of the time, by buying the family property and marrying her, he has fulfilled the role of the kinsman redeemer and has protected their family.

But even the women of the town see clearly that Ruth is the true redeemer.

“Blessed be God! He didn’t leave you without family to carry on your life…” The Message translation reads… “This daughter-in-law who has brought Obed into the world and loves you so much, why she’s worth more to you than seven sons!”

As we head into the Advent and Christmas season, we discover that this love of Ruth for Naomi is echoed in the story of Jesus.

It is sticking by someone even when we didn’t have to… like Joseph with his pregnant fiancée Mary.

It is taking a risk and traveling to a strange land… like Mary and Joseph did when they fled from the wrath of Herod.

It is giving hospitality to strangers and looking to see what gifts they might bring.

It is waiting patiently for God to move in our lives, as we continue to take steps forward in the direction we think we should be going.

Love is not passive. It is hard and risky and a scary thing.

Love takes work.

And today we give thanks to God for Ruth, who near the beginning of our Savior’s story, near the beginning of OUR story, chose to love and in doing so, played a part in redeeming us all.

Amen and amen.

The Blue Couch #NaBloPoMo

Posted on November 4, 2015Leave a comment

In my sophomore year of college, Brandon asked me to take a road trip with him. We drove to Madison, where his sister was living, to rescue a big blue couch before it went in the dumpster. She called because she thought it was an awesome couch and couldn’t believe her office building was just going to throw it away.

At first, it lived in his dad’s house in Cedar Rapids, but before too long, Brandon was at Simpson College with me and the blue couch came along, too. We lived in a co-ed theme house and the blue couch had center stage in our living room. Debates, drinks, friendships, and gamers sprawled all over that couch. It was our senior year… a time of making decisions, finding new directions, and going different ways.

Brandon moved back home and his dad had long since replaced the furniture. So, the couch, our couch, came with me as I made the trek to Nashville for seminary. It lived in the middle of my living room in my duplex on Poston. It was where we held Jeopardy Style study sessions, where my friend came out as Jewish, where we kept a long-distance relationship alive through phone calls… And then the couch moved with me to the townhouse I’d share for a couple of years.

Brandon moved to Nashville too. The couch was there… for the start of my obsession with Grey’s Anatomy… for the conversations with Glen where he kept reminding me I’d make a good pastor… for the night Brandon and I broke up (but just for a night) because we weren’t sure how ministry and marriage wedded together.

And then we did get married. We moved that blue couch into our first, little, one bedroom apartment.

Before the year was up, we moved again. Back home, to Iowa.

My first church, our first real house, and the blue couch.

Oh, and cats. We added some kittens when we arrived home. And the couch was never the same. Claw marks, stuffing coming out on the ends.

I got up early on Sunday mornings and wrote sermons on the couch. I reconnected with old friends, and we made new ones on that couch.

It moved with us one more time to Cedar Rapids… tattered… grungy… and sat in a room we barely used.

So when the time came to transition again, to Des Moines, we thought about leaving it, for good, in the dumpster.

But that couch still has life in it. This summer, I bought some new fabric and if I ever find time, I plan to reupholster the whole thing. The cats are declawed now and that couch has too many damn memories in it.

Competing Goals

Posted on July 10, 2015Leave a comment

One of my goals for this renewal leave was to cook more meals in the evening for myself and my husband.

It is something I love to do, and I use about two more pots or utensils than I need and make a lovely delicious mess every time.

But I love to cook. I love to discover new flavors and adapt recipes and buy fresh ingredients based on one meal and take a few hours in the kitchen.

I can honestly tell you I have made exactly zero of those big fancy meals. Last night, I made a one pot casserole while Brandon was at the hardware store. We’ve had frozen pizza twice this week. Our fridge has never been emptier.

Even though making dinner was my goal, it was connected with the goal to spend more quality time with my husband. And when either of us cook, we get in each others way.

He is also in charge of the dishes (my responsibility is the cats and the garbage), and so my kitchen messes stress him out.

He is a much pickier eater than I am, too.

I realized I had competing goals, so I have ended up cooking very little this past month.

Sometimes churches have competing goals, too.

I was part of a church in Nashville that wanted to both provide excellent child care AND be open to people off the street. We couldn’t do the second effectively because we needed to keep doors locked and building access limited for child safety.

Denominations have such competing goals and priorities as well. My own annual conference is balancing budget reduction/apportionment reduction AND the goals to reach new people/better equip leaders. To be honest, they don’t co-exist very well.

As I thought about my own competing goals, a few questions came to mind that might help churches discern as well:

1) Where do my goals intersect or overlap? Do they mutually benefit each other? Or detract? A simple evaluation can bring to light places of competition or cooperation.

2) Is this goal something I want, or something we need? Especially in churches, it is sometimes hard to let go of goals you are personally excited about. But, if it doesn’t fit with the overall direction or priorities of the church, it is easier to let them go.

3) Who benefits from these goals? Who is harmed? This can be a tricky question, especially if you are dealing with multiple vulnerable populations (like children/homeless, or small churches/campus ministries). Yet, sometimes we make assumptions about who is benefiting from our goals or who becomes more at risk. Taking the time to evaluate in this way clears the waters.

4) Can a different goal, or a different ministry do the work just as well? Can you better equip local homeless

ministry and work there, rather than do it in your building? Can you focus on stewardship and helping churches pay their share instead of reducing the payments for everyone? Can you go out to eat more, instead of cooking g at home? We simply can’t do everything and realizing what our options are helps us shift our goals.

Life's Not Perfect #NaBloPoMo

Posted on November 15, 2014Leave a comment

It was a lovely day.

We slept in.

The Hawkeyes won.

Friends came over and we binge watched some television (Newsroom is FANTASTIC, btw).

I figured out how to do a double crochet front post and a double crochet back post for an afghan I started.

My husband made apple pie.

The snow fell and it was so lovely.

And then tonight, as I’m setting my clothes out for the morning, I find it:

A nice little pile of poop.

A present left by Tiki or Turbo.

It rarely happens. I could guess at the reasons, but whatever, I’m not a cat.

*sigh*

Tomorrow, I’m preaching on thankfulness and gratitude, so I’m led to say these things:

I’m grateful for the invention of paper towels and carpet cleaner.

I’m grateful messes can be cleaned up.

I’m grateful for the companionship of those two little furballs.

I’m grateful for imperfections that ground us and humble us and help us to not take life so seriously.

I’m grateful for the grace that I have received when I have messed up.

I’m grateful for people who have helped me to clean up my own mistakes and fumbles.

Maybe I'm an ENFP after all #NaBloPoMo

Today, I stumbled across an article about the struggles of various personalitites.

25 Struggles Only ENFPs Will Understand | Thought Catalog

http://thoughtcatalog.com/heidi-priebe/2014/09/25-struggles-only-enfps-will-understand/

I feel like I have always wavered between E and I on the Meyers-Briggs scale. I’m on the border but usually lean towards the Extrovert side. So I didn’t feel like I fit in either very well based on the typical descriptions.

There is something to be said about identifying something by what it is not, however. Seeing these struggles typed out before my eyes was like a light bulb.
Especially the pieces about need more alone time and the quality of social interaction that energizes me. I can flit from person to person and table to table at coffee hour, but I’m exhausted when I get home. If I sit down and have a much longer conversation with one group in the midst of everyone, I feel completely different.

The piece about the constant flow of ideas is so true as well. As we switched spaces at the church this last month, the plan changed about 10 times. The final plan came to me in a dream the day before our biggest move. I’m constantly tweaking things and it isn’t right until it’s time to get up and do it. That’s why some of my best sermons were written at 6 am on Sunday morning. It is why my husband gets so frustrated with me as we grocery shop… as I see an item, new possibilities arise and I change what I want to cook for dinner.

For the first time, I feel like I really can embrace my ENFPness