Happy Belly Button Birthday, Ma!

I am the adult child of alcoholics.

This is not surprising information for most people. I am very open about my experience growing up, witnessing the ins and outs of addiction. Addiction, from my perspective, was an embodied part of my family. Not only did my parent's change when they were under the influence, my behavior changed as well. Addiction was the weird uncle who sat next to me at the dinner table, consuming more than its fair share of resources.

I recently had it reflected back to me that I am unlike other adult children of alcoholics. I was told that most of these children run from their past, keeping it secret because they grew up with a notion that revealing their inner world was unsafe. In a chaotic, unsettled life, their inner experience became a small area of control.

I have struggled with this reality. In the past, I have desired to disassociate, separate, define myself as different from my past experiences. I thought that these experiences somehow made me less of a person, less of a pastor.

However, another significant part of my story includes recovery. It includes sitting in Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, night after night. What was modeled for me in these meetings is people bringing their authentic, broken selves to a community. I was shown how to self-reveal, cry and be frustrated. In these meetings, I witnessed the full range of human emotions. These meetings and the people within them chose to love one another, and myself, as though we were family. In these spaces, we were all broken and hurting. We relied heavily on a higher power and we prayed, communally, for healing and support.

Through AA, counseling, spiritual direction, seminary training and clinical pastoral education I have come to understand my past experiences as being a gift. It is from this well of hurt and pain that I am able to relate best to humanity. It is in the midst of this brokenness that I am able to share in the common human experiences of loneliness, longing, depression and anxiety.

I would not be the pastor I am today without the AA community.

I think this has become apparent to me over the course of the last few weeks. After the loss of my mother, it is was both the AA community and my local church that went out of their way to show me an incredible amount of love and support. Although I do not wish the illness of addiction on any one, or their families, I am grateful for my parent's stories. I am grateful that AA gifted me with a mother over the last 16 years.

Despite my continued grief, I am celebrating ma's 54th belly-button birthday today.
I would not be the pastor I am without her in my life.

I will be saying the Serenity Prayer tonight, for her, for myself and for those of us who might need the extra serenity, courage and wisdom to make it through the night. I invite you to join me, on your own time.

In the Grip of God's Grace, 

Pastor Anitta +♡

Decidedly Disappointed

About a year ago, I got into a conversation with one of my colleagues. They were exploring the role of disappointment in leadership, consulting with a client.

Some of the questions they was encouraging this client to think about was:

1. How do you react to disappointment?

2. What is your capacity to be disappointed by family, work, church?

3. What does it mean to you to disappoint others?

These questions are sticking with me this week. Our opportunity for disappointment is great -- both as perpetrators and as victims. Disappointment sometimes reveals itself in the form of depression or despair. UCLA psychologist James C. Coleman lists several examples. "Shipwreck victims who lose hope may die after a few days," he says, "even though physiologically they could have survived many days longer." He notes that despair can contribute to suicide, while hopelessness bred by poverty might manifest as apathy. "Values, meaning, and hope appear to act as catalysts" for mobilizing energy and finding satisfaction. Without them, Coleman reports, life can seem futile.

Ministry, in and of itself, is people focused/centered. Everything that we do, reflects back on how we fellowship, lead, give and take care of one another. As a Christian, I believe that our relationship with the Divine provides the moral directive for being in these types of relationships. However, what happens when we, as leaders, disappoint ourselves and/or the people that we work with?

In the midst of disappointment, depression and despair -- how do we keep hope alive? How do we lead a community of believers in the midst of expectations held on both sides?

Resiliency: Hebrews 11:1

Hebrews 11:1 CEB

During the beginning process of my integrative paper, my classmates and I were asked to speak to our most important values. The three that I named to complete the assignment included authenticity, resiliency and humility.

The one that I want to speak about today is resiliency. I have understood resiliency to be the capacity of individuals and communities to withstand, respond to, recover from and/or adapt to disruptive events.

In both my personal life as well as my clinical work, I am often reminded that no one guaranteed that life would be easy. Many times, I am at a loss for words... mostly because there are none. There is nothing that is appropriate to comfort a mother that has delivered a still birth. In instances of tragedy and trauma, words fail. However, because these cases happen so often, it is necessary for the pastor to be prepared to provide care. Henri Nouwen believes that all pastoral leadership should be rooted in an intimate relationship with the incarnate Word, Jesus. It is in Jesus' life and ministry where we find a source for words, advice and guidance (Nouwen, 45). Scripture tells us that Jesus wept, prayed and comforted. As a pastor, I do each of these things on a daily basis both for myself and for others.

In my line of work, I am often asking, "What nourishes your soul?" Or, "What brings you hope?" Hearing folks respond to these questions, despite facing a terminal illness or life changing event, humbles my spirit. Hope is the definition of humanity's resiliency in the face of both physical and social sickness.

Resiliency is giving everything you got, putting it all on the line, losing it and waking up the next day. It's recognizing that life isn't easy. For most of us, there are no quick fixes or easy answers. Sometimes, we find ourselves needing to make a difficult decision between two option, both of which suck. But, we do it.

Nouwen writes that the leadership of a pastor is "not a leadership of power and control, but a leadership of powerlessness and humility in which the suffering servant of God, Jesus Christ, is made manifest" (Nouwen, 82). Part of our powerless, humble leadership is the recognition that we cannot care for our communities alone. Our relationship with the Divine, provides for us the framework for this leadership. It is in this relationship that we store our hope and find our faith --- even when things are pretty shitty.

In the Grip of God's Grace, 

Pastor Anitta +♡

Henri Nouwen, In the Name of Jesus: Reflections On Christian Leadership

Birthday Wishes

As I was driving back to home from my grandparents house earlier tonight, I decided to go through and delete my 15 voicemails. (I know, it was terrible.) But, as I was listening to them, I came across this one that made me pull over onto the side of the road.

As I listened to that birthday song, I couldn't help but be both happy and sad at the same time. I never thought I'd hear this again. And now, I get to hear it forever. <3

I have no more words.

A Little Story About Depression

Let's call the patient Martha. Martha struggles with clinical depression. Her understanding of depression is that it is a disease, which can sometimes be fatal. Martha shares with me:

For me, depression is a still, small voice in the back of my head. She tells me that I am not good enough, not well enough, that I am in trouble, that I should be ashamed, the list goes on and on. Her voice is seductive and believable. My depression is different from others. I don't have 'mope in your bed all day' depression. I have functional depression. The kind of depression which makes me appear, by everyone else's standards, 'normal'. I get up, I go to work, I succeed. My depression tells me that as long as I do the minimum to stay afloat, I will be okay. I first realized that I had depression about 9 months ago. In the same amount of time most women create life, I have created self-doubt, despair, fear and frustration. This still, small voice is powerful.

I am struck by the image of depression as being a still, small voice. As a Christian, I have typically seen the still, small voice used as a descriptor of God:

11 The Lord said, “Go out and stand at the mountain before the Lord. The Lord is passing by.” A very strong wind tore through the mountains and broke apart the stones before the Lord. But the Lord wasn’t in the wind. After the wind, there was an earthquake. But the Lord wasn’t in the earthquake. 12 After the earthquake, there was a fire. But the Lord wasn’t in the fire. After the fire, there was a sound. Thin. Quiet. 13 When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his coat. He went out and stood at the cave’s entrance. A voice came to him and said, “Why are you here, Elijah?”

1 Kings 19:11-13 (CEB)

Martha's words evoke discomfort and familiarity within me. As a pastor, I often wonder how I will maintain my own mental health 'when I start doing real ministry'. However, a significant learning for me over the last year is that I cannot wait for a 'someday' to come. Mental health is as important to my ministry as physical and emotional health.

Happy Birthday To Me

Dear 25,

If I'm being honest, I'm not going to miss you. I'm not going to miss you one, single bit. One year ago today, I welcomed you, invited you and challenged you. I shared my wishes with you for life, career and personal growth. I leaned into you with excitement and acceptance. I think this is demonstrated best in the Facebook post I shared:

Yesterday, I started my birthday picking up dog waste, had surprise cheesecake delivered to me, slept in, was treated to breakfast, cleaned, napped, comforted a Jewish family in distress, received a thank you page from the ICU team, witnessed the birth of a stillborn baby and held the hand of a nurse as she recounted her own experience of losing a child.

If the coming year is anything like my birthday, I will be blessed, transformed, challenged and affirmed. Thank you all for being on this journey with me. I look forward to sharing my life with you. 

#birthday #blessed #transformed #suprise #journey #chaplain

I wish I could say that this past year was everything that I had wanted it to be... but, it just hasn't been. Over the last year, I have lost a lot. I ended a relationship, I didn't graduate, I lost a brother, I lost a mother, I uprooted my life in Chicago to pursue a dream, which I also lost. I lost my stability, I lost my security, I lost a sense of my identity and I lost my community.

In the last year, I gained a fur baby, a clinical pastoral education unit, a job, opportunity, a chaplain's identity, licensing for becoming a local pastor, friendship, love, strength, a counselor, mentors and so much more.

25, you have shown me my strength, my competence, my weaknesses, my resiliency, my ability to thrive, my dedication, my support system, my growing edges and my dreams. You have been a hell of a year!

Traditionally, my birthday blog has recapped my experience of the previous year. However, if I'm being honest, I am feeling a bit defeated by this past year. In the midst of all of the positives, there have been a lot... A LOT... of heartbreaking losses. Instead of celebrating a successful 25th revolution around the sun, I'm going to talk about my hope for the next revolution. Because frankly, 25 was just too God damn hard.

So, 26. Here you are. I don't really know how you feel yet. This is the part of the story where I compare you to trying on a new sweater. Ya know, how you feel a little to snug in certain places, but perfect in other ways. I can picture wearing you out with friends, holding hands, movie dates, Grandma hugs and Doggie snuggles.

26, I have so many hopes for you... hopes that I have summed up in a beautiful word cloud.

In the name of all that is good, holy, sacred and beautiful, please don't let me down. <3

In Hospice by Dawn Jelley

In Hospice

                I do not see death,

                I see love…

                I have seen love

                Caught behind anger,

                Hidden in shame,

                Spread on toast…

                I have seen love

                Dropped in one tear,

                Seasoned into soup,

                Lotioned into skin…

                I have seen love

                Without words,

                Between yells,

                Within whispers…

                And I have been honoured

                To have been witness

                To so much…

By Dawn Jelley

The Jelly Cupboard - Poems about Life, Death and Other Sticky Stuff

A Poem About Identity

A reflection on identity, personality, memory and the brain.

Who Am I?

If I am no longer me,
     who am I?

Am I now stories to be told,

     tales to be wove,

     about someone who used to be?

Am I memories that live inside of others,

     childhood memories of my sisters and brothers?

Who am I?

In Divine time,
     I Am Who I Am.

In the Grip of God's Grace, 

Pastor Anitta <3+

Living an Unremarkable Life

Noun — An irresistible desire to travel in order to understand one’s self.

They say that your 20s are supposed to be a time of exploration, figuring yourself out, setting your dreams. It’s also the time to get your ducks in a row so that by 30 you’re ready to settle down, have kids, get business cards and work towards that spacious corner office. Right? At least, that’s what I’ve heard.

Today, I am struggling with being in that in between place. In 10 short days, I will be on the other side of 25 and I am beginning to wonder if I've got my 'priorities' figured out. In health care chaplaincy, I often encounter folks who report working hard all of their lives, finally retiring and a week later have a stroke, wake up paralyzed, or another significant medical issue with their loved one. These folks have literally worked themselves so hard, that when they finally have the chance to rest, the years of trauma catch up to them all at once.

I DON'T WANT TO BE THAT PERSON.

At 25, I hold in tension being both a novice in my field, but accomplished amongst my peers. While I report in to a 8-5 job for 40+ hours a week, one of my best friends is traveling the world and collecting experiences which will make her memories of being a 20-something, worth remembering. Am I going to remember my day-to-day experiences of my residency? Probably not.

In one of my learning didactics, the facilitator presented material on Use of Self. In his discussion, he spoke about reporting on people's psychological state as being 'unremarkable'. By unremarkable, the doctor was indicating that his assessment of the patient showed no signs of deviation outside of the normal range.

The word unremarkable has stuck with me.

When I share my story, I often hear feedback that it is remarkable, that I am remarkable. However, my experience of myself is that I am unremarkable. I graduated, went to college, went to seminary, acquired a residency. Despite my challenges and setbacks, the path that I have led to this point has not REALLY been a deviation outside of the normal range.

When I think about how I want to remember my 20s, I think about not being ready to settle, to be in a routine. I like the idea of getting in my car and driving all night. I like cramming onto a Megabus to go to Philadelphia for an authentic Philly Cheesesteak. And, even more so, I like traveling outside of the US in an attempt to understand the world and my place in it a little bit better.

Yet, none of my life plans seem to be leading me that route. I want to scoop ice cream in Ghana or become a bartender in Guatemala. But, I also want to become a Board Certified Hospital Chaplain, an outreach minister in Chicago, a Soup kitchen director in San Francisco.

I am drawn to the image of a plate spinner. It’s a strange balancing act. In one hand, I’m balancing my “career” plates and in the other, I’m balancing my “dream” plates. In an ideal world, I’d be able to keep both sets spinning. However, I’m afraid I might drop one in favor of keeping the others up.

For those of you struck with wanderlust, how do you cope with leading a ‘normal’ life? How do you manage to balance your dreams with your reality?

When A Parent Dies by Whoa Susannah

When a parent dies, one of the hardest things to do is go through their stuff. Going through an entire house and picking through each drawer, cabinet and closet is not only physically draining, but emotionally draining as well. 

With each scrap of paper or photo or piece of clothing is attached a cherished memory. You come across placemats you've been looking at your entire life and have to make the painstaking decision to toss them in a donate box or keep them for another 30 years. 

You keep them, of course. 

And then you realize you're keeping too much stuff and have no place to put it all. The apron Mother wore is a must keep- no brainer there- along with the furniture and knick knacks and 12 Rubbermaid bins of photos and family history and her poetry and three sets of fine China and the vintage light fixture that's been hanging over the kitchen table for decades-- but what about that Tupperware from 1987 that carried her Mississippi Mud Cake to grandmother's house on birthdays and holidays? It still smells like her cake batter, but do you really need another piece of her Tupperware? Your kitchen cabinets are already overflowing with her dishes. 

So you toss the yellow cake carrier into the donate box and stew over it for the next hour. Should you have kept it? Should you keep every single one of her nightgowns, too, although you've already put 14 of them in a box to take home? Can you let go? 

You feel like she's there saying, "Don't get rid of that! That was your grandmother's mixing bowl! Are you really going to give away my favorite houseshoes? I bought those at Goldsmith's 10 years ago but they still look new!" 

So you find yourself digging through the donate box for Tupperware and nightgowns and reading glasses and mixing bowls and houseshoes and magnets from her refrigerator and you throw it all in your car. 

You sit in your kitchen surrounded by boxes of your mother's makeup and spatulas and pillows and anything that still carries her scent. Suddenly you've inherited your deceased father's shirts and your deceased grandmother's kitchen towels because your mother couldn't let go of those things either. 

You have no idea what to do with it all because these things don't fall into the "must keep" category the way her antique armoire and photos and the dress she wore to your wedding do. These things fall into the "can't yet let go" category. 

You can't think about it anymore, so you shove it into closets and the attic. You'll do something with it all later. 

Thirty years will pass and you'll still have boxes packed with Estee Lauder powder, Spellbound perfume, crusty blush brushes, placemats and 40 year old houseshoes. 

Cause you'll never want to let it go.

Mourn with those Who Mourn: Romans 12:15

When I arrived at the room, I found a weeping child, and a shocked sister. I found a man barely in his 40s, struggling to take his last deep breaths. At the direction of the patient's Health Care Power Of Attorney, all medical interventions were stopped and comfort measures were began. One by one, the medical team exited the room leaving me with sisters, a brother-in-law and a son. The five of us gathered around the patient. We cried, held one another and sang. We prayed and shared stories. The patient died shortly after.

As I stood there, I could not help but relate my own experiences. I don't really know how to acknowledge this publicly, but over the last two months, I had a sibling and a step-parent complete suicide. Although, I did not name my experiences with this family, I was able to use my experiences to inform my practice. I spoke out of the deep pit of discomfort and grief. I lamented alongside of them, reflecting on my own pain and suffering. I am sure that these experiences will continue to impact my chaplaincy care, pastoral care and spiritual care. As they do, I look forward to having this space to be open and vulnerable about the encounters.

After spending most of my early morning with this family and being brought back to my own place of grief and mourning, I was responsible for offering both our staff devotion as well as leading a staff prayer service this morning. Here are the words that I shared:

Devotion: Mourn with Those Who Mourn

Rejoice with those who rejoice;

mourn with those who mourn. 

Romans 12:15 NIV

When I was growing up, my family had a border collie who was very aware of and sensitive to human emotions. Whenever something was upsetting me and I'd sneak away too my room for a good cry, he was usually the first one on the scene to check in on me. He'd walk in quietly, lay his head on my lap, and look up at me with his big brown eyes. He would stay there, sitting quietly next to me, until I felt better. His simple presence was overwhelmingly comforting.

Instead of running away from a potentially awkward situation, embrace the opportunity to be a comfort and support to someone who is hurting. Look out for those who might need and extra hug, smile, or encouraging word. Even if you don't know what to say, just being an empathetic and supporting presence is all that's necessary.

Physical and emotional pain tend to make us feel very alone, so the simple act of noticing that someone is hurting, being there for them, mourning with them, and standing by until they feel betters remarkable power to heal wounds and banish loneliness.

-- 3-minute Devotions for a God Lover's Heart: 180 Paws-itively Perfect Readings 

May the Spirit bless you with discomfort

at easy answers, half truths and superficial relationships
so that you will live deep in your heart. 

May the Spirit bless you with anger
at injustice and oppression, the exploitation of people and earth
so that you will work for justice, equity and peace. 

May the Spirit bless you with tears
to shed for those who suffer
so that you will reach out your hand to comfort them. 

May the Spirit bless you with foolishness
to think that you can make a difference in the world
so that you will do the things which others say cannot be done.

Prayer Service

Centering
As we begin our time together, I invite you to meditate with a two way breath. As you breathe in, you may choose to focus on the item you named. As you breathe out, you may choose to focus on something that you’d like to let go. For example: I may breathe in “peace” and exhale “fear”.

Reading
“Like a wild animal, the soul is tough, resilient, resourceful, savvy, and self-sufficient: it knows how to survive in hard places. I learned about these qualities during my bouts with depression. In that deadly darkness, the faculties I had always depended on collapsed. My intellect was useless; my emotions were dead; my will was impotent; my ego was shattered. But from time to time, deep in the thickets of my inner wilderness, I could sense the presence of something that knew how to stay alive even when the rest of me wanted to die. That something was my tough and tenacious soul.”

-- Parker Palmer, A Hidden Wholeness: The Journey Toward an Undivided Life

Reflection
What of Parker Palmer’s words caused the strongest feelings in you? Why?
While you were reading, describe what you pictured in your mind.
Are there connections between Parker Palmer’s words and your life? If so, how?
What do you wonder about this reading?

Prayer

Beautiful Mystery,

Where hearts are fearful and constricted,

grant courage and hope.

Where anxiety is infectious and widening,

grant peace and reassurance.

Where impossibilities close every door and window,

grant imagination and resistance.

Where distrust twists our thinking,

grant healing and illumination.

Where spirits are daunted and weakened,

grant soaring wings and strengthened dreams.

Blessing
The love of the faithful Creator
The peace of the wounded Healer
The joy of the challenging Spirit
The hope of the Three in One
Surround and encourage you
Today, tonight and forever.

-- Kathy Galloway, The Pattern of Our Days

In the Grip of God's Grace, 

Pastor Anitta +♡