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