Light of the World

This picture is a National Geographic image that was modified to contain all the seasons of the year.  I like it because it contains the moon AND the sun - two images that are important to my faith.  The moon reminds me that even in the darkness, God is there.  The sun reminds me of Jesus words in John 9:5 " As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world."  Even though he is no longer in the world, I believe the Spirit who Jesus left with us,  is the light of the world.

I needed both images this morning because it seems everything went wrong.  I had a Presbytery meeting today so I dropped my dog off at the doggie daycare place before heading to the meeting.  Due to my spatial orientation issues, I got confused leaving and ended up driving the wrong way on the highway.  It wasn't as simple as just driving the wrong way but I got on the wrong highway and then couldn't figure out how to get back to where I was supposed to go.  I didn't use my GPS because I had read an article in the New York Times about how these sorts of time savers are causing people to use less neurons in our brains so we're losing brain power.  I figured since I had been there before and since I had what I thought were good directions, I'd be okay.

When will I ever learn not to take risks when it involves directions to anywhere?  The article was about folks who do not have a brain injury and therefore it didn't apply to me.  Like it or not, my brain injury changes everything about how I function in the world so I got major lost.  When I finally figured out where I was after about 45 minutes, I was experiencing cognitive overload.  I decided to stop at a gas station, get some gas and calm myself down. 

I've learned to make choices based on their costs. The cost of going to the meeting was, I would be exhausted and have no energy tomorrow.  Since  tomorrow I have a dinner meeting where I need to have as many of my mental faculties as possible, I decided I would just go home and skip today's meeting. My over responsible self began thinking, "I'm a member of Presbytery and I didn't get an excused absence and it's close enough for me to attend so I should attend."   However, my good judgement kicked in and since I had no responsibility at the meeting and going would mean I wouldn't be cognitively present for my meeting tomorrow, I decided to return home.

Having a brain injury means I can't do it all or even do all that is expected of me. I think I do expect too much of myself though. It is hard but I suspect it is hard for anyone whether they have a brain injury or not.  In our society expectations run very high.  Having a brain injury is helping me see how our expectations are often too high for everyone.  God doesn't ask or expect this of any of us.

I'm glad I saw this picture of the moon and sun today for it reminds me not to be so hard on myself.  This is a tall order but it is one I hope with God's help, I'll fulfill.  

   

Dayenu - When is it enough?

The picture on the left is of a shelter that the children of Circle of Mercy congregation made a few weeks ago.  Missy Harris preached about Sukkot -the Festival of Booths/Shelters and the children constructed one. She said, "In the Jewish tradition, each year families construct makeshift shelters outside their homes... The shelters are to be built with materials that grow from the earth.  The roof provides enough space to view at least three stars in the night sky and with enough space to feel the shifts in the weather - cool air, rain, and wind.  This tradition recalls the paradox of our faith journey, a journey that holds both joy and sorrow."

In that service we sang the song "Dayenu" which roughly translated means, "it would have been enough for us." Some of the verses are, "Had God brought us out of Egypt, But not split the sea before us, Well then dayenu.  Had God given us commandments, But not led us into homeland, Well then dayenu."  Missy then poses the question, "How often do we really feel like it is enough? "That certainly wasn't the case at the beginning or even in the middle of the Exodus story.  God brought the people out of Egypt, out of slavery, protected them on their journey, and provided for their daily needs.  But when they got to a place where they could stop and take a breath, Dayenu, was not the refrain that they were singing."

Sixteen years after sustaining my brain injury, I often feel as it it isn't enough.  I learned how to walk, eat and speak again but that isn't enough.  I learned how to preach and write other things but that isn't enough.  I learned how to manage my new stress level and still, that isn't enough. I want to be just like I was prior to my brain injury. I'm like the Egyptians when they longed for the comfort and certainty they had known when they were enslaved in Egypt.

I don't mean to imply that my life before my TBI was like the harsh conditions of the Egyptians.  This isn't the case at all for I liked my life and my activities.  Yet, I can't help thinking how much easier it was then when I didn't have to deal with the effects of my TBI.    

Sometimes I feel a bit out-of-it because I cannot be as"busy" as those in the world around me seem to be without consequences.  However, I also realize that because my schedule isn't as tense as the rest of the world's, I can really experience God's beauty. I won't forget when I had time back in the spring to stop and watch a nest of little birds as they hatched and grew big enough to leave it.

I don't believe God calls any of us to be so busy that we have no time to experience the wonder of God's creation.  I don't believe God wants us to have no time to relate and care for each other.  I don't believe God values us more if we preach great sermons or lead important meetings. No, who and what we are, is enough. 

 I am enough.          


 

Memorial Service

Today I helped lead a memorial service for a charter member of Grace Covenant Presbyterian Church.  I really don't have a lot of experience leading them.  I assisted a bit when I served a church in Atlanta but as the newest Associate Pastor at the church, I never had an opportunity to lead one.

It was the same when I served as a volunteer chaplain at the retirement center in Atlanta.  I assisted in many but led only one.  I remember how difficult it was trying to lead a service for someone I didn't know well.  After that one, I decided I didn't want to lead any more and as a volunteer chaplain that was my prerogative although after leading that one, I doubt I would have been asked to lead another!

I haven't worn my ministerial robe much since living in Atlanta seven years ago and I wore it today.  It's sort of funny because while I thought the stole was a white one, I wasn't sure so I checked it out with the Associate Pastor prior to the service.  Here I've been ordained for twenty years and I had to ask such a basic question!

It's an example of one of the difficulties of having a brain injury and not being involved in the mainstream of life.  I know I'm not a "dumb" person but many of the things I do might be considered "dumb."  For example, I haven't led or been to a whole lot of traditional Presbyterian memorial services.  This afternoon I sat up in front where the worship leaders sit while the organist was playing the prelude.  The other two pastors came in with the family so they could be seated at the front.

It was a huge family so they filed in a long line up the aisle.  I think the "proper" thing to do is to stand while the family enters but I wasn't sure so I decided to stand if everyone else stood.  Half-way through their entrance I realized that folks were going to follow my lead and since I didn't stand, neither did they.  I figured it was sort of silly for me to stand half-way through their entrance so I stayed seated.

Afterward, my worrywart personality took over and I kicked myself for my mistake.  "How could I have been so ignorant" I thought.  I then remembered something my cognitive therapist told me.  It takes a lot of  neuron energy to agonize over something so unimportant and it will wear me out if I spend time doing this.  When I begin to do this, she suggested I just tell myself to stop.  So this is what I did.   And it worked.

Afterwards a family member commented on a story I had told about just sitting in silence with the person and how I think our society depends on words too much. With tears in her eyes she described her experience of doing just that. God did touch someone with my words so all my worrying was for naught.

It really was a moving service even if my worrywart personality got in the way.  I worried about what I planned to say.  I worried about how Mark would tie it all together when he lead the Homily.  I worried that I would get overstimulated.  All that worrying wore me out!  The funny thing is, God was there and it went fine.  Today was a gorgeous fall day so when I returned home, I sat outside with my dog Sparky.  This was the rest my brain needed. 

Hopefully, I'll stop worrying about things so much.  Since I'm trying to be involved in more  now, I have to stop this or it isn't going to work.  I'll end up having to sleep for days after activities like I did when I was in Atlanta if I don't stop wasting so much brain power.    

Church

I have a birthday tomorrow and birthdays always drive me to reflect on my life.  My reflections this year are about all the different churches in which I've been a part.  I grew up Methodist, directed a small church choir at a Disciples of Christ Church, and ended up joining a huge Presbyterian Church (Village Presbyterian) in Kansas City. (6000+ members) 

I joined this church because I had played violin there for numerous music programs and I liked the church's social justice stance on issues.  In fact this is where I became involved in the Peacemaking program and other Presbyterian social justice programs.  I look back on this now with wonder.  How did I ever survive in a church that big?  I even was what is called "under care" there when I studied to be a minister.  This means the church supports and encourages you as you go through the ordination process.

My first call was at a church in Atlanta in an upper middle class, white neighborhood.  I was only there for three years before my automobile accident.  Three years is not very long but I was searching for another call when I sustained my brain injury.  I knew my accident was serious because I had to learn how to eat, walk, use my hands, keep my balance and do cognitive things like read,  all over again.  However it wasn't even in my realm of possibility that I would never serve a church again.  I figured I just needed more time.

So I first dived into volunteering at the Open Door Community which is a residential Christian community sort of like a Catholic Worker House that served folks who are living homeless as well as those in prison.  That didn't work so I tried volunteering at a local Hospice.  That didn't work so I walked into the Chaplains office at a retirement community and asked if they could use a volunteer.  The lead Chaplain had time to give me a tour and said he could use me.  He is a very busy man and I don't know how I lucked out meeting him that day, but I did. Finally, something that worked! 

This is so often how it is with brain injury survivors.  It's a "trial and error"  (see post 8/19/11)  sort of thing for we often don't fit into our prescribed world anymore.  In fact, all people with disabilities don't fit into this world and it can be a very lonely place.  I am awed by the strenghth and perseverance of folks who have disabilities.  The world is not made for us so we have to carve out a place. 

So while volunteering there, I served on a couple of Presbytery committees as well as a couple of committees at the church I was attending (Oakhurst Presbyterian, a multi racial congregation). I was involved in several projects that came up and led worship, at times even preaching at various places.  Quite frequently my brain would just do what I call "shut down."  This meant I couldn't focus or do anything at all but rest.  So I often spent days laying on the sofa with no stimulation around me at all.  I always bounced back and returned to my schedule again.  Back and forth this went.  

It was starting to wear on me and I began to realize that I would never serve a church again as a minister.  About that time, my husband Michael took a job in Asheville, N.C. which meant moving.  For anyone who has sustained a brain injury a change in surroundings is very, very difficult.  We don't do well with unexpected or unknown environments. I decided the best thing for me to do was to stop all involvement in everything and just become familiar with Asheville

I'd heard about Circle of Mercy congregation when I was in Atlanta so I decided to become part of this progressive church even though it wasn't Presbyterian.  It meets on Sunday evenings so I could still attend a Presbyterian Church in the morning.  Since I purposely wasn't going to get involved at either place and planned to just attend church, going to two wasn't a burden.  Much of my energy went to figuring out my new city, new schedule and finding volunteer work.  Again, I tried volunteering at two different nursing homes and doing some volunteer clowning  but discovered this didn't work for me so I had to try something else.

After a while I did join a committee at Grace and became more involved there but it was limited.  I also became part of the Pastoral Care Team at Circle of Mercy.  Being involved in both churches peaked my interest in ideas surrounding ordination, sacraments, justice ministry and worship services since the two churches have differing views in all these areas.  It's pushing me to think about what I believe and not what a church tells me to believe.  However, both churches are very open and I don't feel pressure from either one to believe a certain way.  For this I am grateful.

Someone with a brain injury needs to do repetitive  and steady things.  I have tried this but I was bored to tears.  My neurologist sympathized with my feelings and supports my idea of trying to be involved in more ministerial type things.   When I use the word "ministerial" I mean using the parts of me that I used when I was a pastor - not trying to actualy be one.  However, I must set limits and this is very hard for me.  This idea isn't going to work and I'm going to be stressed out like I was in Atlanta if I don't set these limits.

I'm not a pastor of either church and I don't want to be. However, I can't help regretting this greatly.  I liked being a pastor! I must say, it is nice not having all the responsibilities and pressures of one. I don't have to worry about what I say etc. since I'm not getting paid by anyone.   I'm sort of a "freelance pastor" a little like when I was a freelance violinist/violist all those years ago!

When I look back, I see how far I've come.  I still worry about what people think about me but I'm getting to the point where I don't care.  I know what I'm doing and if someone wants to talk to me about this, they can.  If they don't, then it is their problem and not mine.  (This is much easier to write than to actualy believe!) 



    

A Journey

This is the picture that was printed in the bulletin at Grace Covenant Presbyterian Church last Sunday (Sept 23, 12).  There is always a picture printed longside a quotation of some sort. This Sunday I didn't see any connection between the picture and the quote by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.  It's funny, but sometimes I think they connect to the sermon and other times I do not.  It's okay though because worship is more than simply the sermon. I sing in the choir now and the anthems are the same way. 

The thing is, it doesn't really matter for worship should touch all the senses.  Even if the sermon doesn't connect with me, something in the service always does.

I could relate to this picture because I often feel as if I'm in a maze filled with mirrors along with this boy.  I try to do something and I come up against my brain injury challenges which makes me want to just close my eyes and block out all the commotion. Dealing with all these challenges can really drain me.  Occasionally, I do block them all.  I stay home, don't answer the phone or read my emails. But I always come back.

I also could relate to parts of the sermon by Mark Ramsey.  If you'd like to read it, here is the link: http://storage.cloversites.com/gracecovenantpresbyterianchurch1/documents/sr-23Sept12-alt.pdf  Mark points out that we often "have a propensity to always chase the 'shiny object,' thinking it will solve everything." He expands on this idea with a few examples. "The blueprints to personal riches.  The plan that will make us thin. The coaching that will make us popular The drug that will take away our anxiety."  He says that we cannot borrow our life from someone else. 

I know there's been times when I've wanted to borrow someone else's life.  Perhaps I could borrow some one's eyes since mine have double vision and I dislike having to wear my eye patch.  Perhaps I could borrow some one's church where I would preach every week giving nuggets of divine wisdom.  Perhaps I could borrow the professional orchestra that so and so plays with and make music that brings people (and myself) to heavenly places.

I appreciate Mark's comments about temptation.  "Temptation is the lure to chase the tiny object and so tire ourselves out chasing the shallow thing that we don't know who we are - and doubt descends on us: will we ever be able to hear God's true voice?  (bold added)

How many times have I asked myself this question?  Where are you, God?  Are you speaking to me or only to those around me?  That brain injury survivor over there is able to do so much more than me! That minister can serve out her ordination vows.  What about me?  Don't you care what I'm feeling?  Doubt descends.

In his sermon, Mark shared a thought by Anne Lamott.  "Faith is about the willingness or necessity of being wiped out of what you think holds you together, to face a benevolent annihilation without all the stuff that you think defines you....  Because you have to give up some false stuff to get to the true."

My brain injury has forced me to give up some false stuff.  The idea that since I wear a robe and stole on Sunday, I am closer to God than others.  The idea that since I have a seminary degree, I can study scripture and theology better than someone who doesn't.  The idea that my call to be a minister is "better" than others.

On that last idea, I think the Presbyterian Church (USA) unknowingly leads one to believe this.  When I went from being a member of the Presbytery of Greater Atlanta to a member of the Presbytery of Western North Carolina, I had to write a statement of faith and say a few words about my call in front of the Presbytery.  I believe this fosters the idea that the ordained call is "better" or at least a more important call than what other people receive.

I don't want to be who I'm not anymore.  I write this but I know this isn't easy at all.  To be oneself is a journey like no other.

Pain and Promise

On August 22, 2012 I wrote a blog post called "All or Nothing."  In it I mentioned Kathleen O'Connor's book Jeremiah: Pain and Promise. I had only read three chapters of it at the time but this morning I read chapter 9 "Encoding Catastrophe" about the sermons in Jeremiah.  Pictured at left is O'Connor's book along with a book by Gerhard von Rad, The Message of the Prophets.

As I wrote earlier, I never liked Jeremiah but O'Connor's book is giving me a new appreciation for it.  I consulted von Rad's book because I get sort of confused about all the historical things in Jeremiah.  I hope to study it more carefully later but for now this chapter really affected me.

O'Connor writes, "Because disasters shatter 'the sense of what life deeply means,' and because they destroy the symbolic universe that formerly held up the world, new ways of conceiving identity must emerge for a people to survive as a people." (p. 93, bold added) While it is true that sustaining a traumatic brain injury is not the same as the disaster Jeremiah writes about, there are similarities. 

O'Connor shares what trauma experts Robin Fivush and Beth Seelig wrote.  "When experienced events cannot be understood, the human mind returns again and again to the event to try to make sense of it in a repetitive and compulsive way."  This definitely happens when one sustains a brain injury.  We want to tell our story over and over again in order to make sense of it. O'Connor says that part of the narrative changes in the retelling, "But the more coherent and better organized explanations become, the more they aid survivors."

This is true in my case.  How many times have I told my story?  My husband Michael and I went out for frozen yogurt and when we were returning home he forgot what gear he was in on our standard transmisiion when he turned left.  As a result, we were hit by an oncoming car.  The police officer even gave him a ticket as I was being taken by ambulance to the nearest hospital and he was experiencing all the confusion one experiences after being in a serious accident.  (He spent a week in the hospital.  I was in an induced coma so I didn't know anything that was going on.)

I've gone over it in my mind millions of times.  How could Michael be so stupid as to not know what gear he was in?  Why did we get frozen yogurt just then?  and Etc. Etc. Etc. However, going over it again in my mind has "turned frightening chaos into a contained and predictable event."  (Tal, Worlds of Hurt) Like Jeremiah's sermons, my "sermons" (to myself and to others) have allowed me to accept this tragedy and move on.

This is why brain injury survivors must connect and tell their stories to one another. I've shared my anger at Michael for causing the accident and he has shared his regret.  In fact, he won't buy a standard transmission car now!  While I'm not thankful for the accident, I have learned much from it. In fact, both of us have grown. 

At some point, I plan to study Jeremiah.  O'Connor wrote in her preface, "Viewed from this perspective, Jeremiah is a work of resilience, a book of massive theological reinvention, and a kind of survival manual for a destroyed society."   Those of us who are brain injury surivors need a "survival manual."

Ordination Anniversary

I was surprised when I received a congratulations from the Columbia Seminary Alumna office recognizing my ordination on September 12 1993.  I knew it was in September but I didn't know what date. That was yesterday. Wow!

I've struggled with what being ordained means to me now.  I had only been serving a church for three years when I sustained my TBI.  Many others in my graduating class have served churches all this time now and being the pastor of a church is second nature to them. 

I guess when I look back at my life I see that I have not lived a "normal" life whatever that means.  I didn't get married and have children in my 20's and 30's like so many folks I know. I'm not established in a career nor do I have lots of nice stuff.  It sometimes does surprise me when I think about what I do have: A nice house, decent clothing and food, a car and a computer.  So many folks do not have these things and I am grateful for them.

I looked at the vows I took when I was ordained and I think I have kept them although in my situation it would be easy to let them go by the wayside especially the last one. "Will you be a faithful minister, proclaiming the good news in Word and Sacrament, teaching faith, and caring for people?  Will you be active in government and discipline, serving in the governing bodies of the church; and in your ministry will you try to show the love and justice of Jesus Christ?"

It is clear to me that many folks who have a TBI would not be able to fulfill these vows and that is okay.  However, in a limited way I can. I believe that folks who have sustained a traumatic brain injury have to try not to compare themselves to the rest of the world.  This is hard for me especially when I look just like everyone else. I remind myself every day that I can only do what I can and this is okay. 

Here is a picture of a rainbow which also gives me hope and strength.  It appears after a storm and I'm reminded that my spirit is intact even after the storms of life.