Baptism by Fire

Well, it's only been six months. I am not sure what this blog will be in the new year. Hopefully a place I return to more often. I have missed writing. The end of the year is such a time of reflection. You realize...I have realized what's been missing...or lacking...or completely void. Writing is one of those things in my life. As I wrote earlier on the good ole Facebook, "Hope springs eternal! Hope for a better year, better self, and mostly, much better outcomes."

I saw a church sign this week that read, "Water Baptisms This Sunday." This completely confused me. I thought all baptisms are with/by water. I shared this confusion, once again, on the good ole Facebook. Not thinking much of the few comments I received, later in the day I received one that...well, it kinda knocked me off my feet. One of those rare moments where your breath catches, but not in the good way. This acquaintance (see how I didn't say friend...because let's be honest, very few of those people on the good ole Facebook are friends) simply replied to my status, "Well, there is baptism by fire. But that can be messy."

If there is one thing I understand, it is this. Baptism by fire. (Anything by fire.) That it is messy. Not just messy but completely and utterly destructive. Life changed (forever) on January 20 of 2010. I can't help but think about just this on New Year's Eve. How life is nothing of what I thought it would be 365 days after NYE's 2009.

The fire...the baptism...the baptism by fire...

It has been on my mind too much this week. I am actually glad the parents are out of town. I would hate them to see me so down. Well, not down. But...but so reflective. So...so...living in what was and not in what is. (If you read this M and D: I know a new year is coming. And I know you love me. And I know you have shared with me in this grief. But say it with me, "Hope springs eternal!")

I went into storage two days ago and pulled out some of the boxes from the fire. They have been sitting, untouched, for the last 11 months. I thought. No, I knew they needed to be touched. Looked throw. Thought about. Cried over. And cleaned up. There are many boxes. Most it will be sorted...into the trash. I picked three boxes full of dishes. Gosh, if you know me any, you know I love (see, I did not say loved) my dishes. I have been collecting, finding abstract pieces, mostly vintage, for years. I filled the sinks at home with hot water, rolled my sleeves up, and went to work on my beloved dishes. (Remember many months ago when I wrote about it just being stuff, but my stuff. And sometimes we just love stuff. Well, this is the stuff I l-o-v-e.)

Surprisingly I did not cry over the pieces that went into the trash. Nor I did cry when the soot would not wash away (as easily as I had wanted). Nope, the tears came when I opened the boxes. That smell. I worked for months to get that smell out of my few remaining clothes, car, and...memory. That smell overwhelmed me then. And it overwhelms me now. It stayed in my memory for far too long. But I kept going. I washed. Rewashed. And finally loaded them in the dishwasher for a sanitizing cycle. Even then, after all that scrubbing, I had to make the decision to throw away certain pieces. But my favorites, well most my favorites, cleaned up. They are waiting to be wrapped up and put in new boxes. (Boxes that don't hold THAT smell.)

I hate thinking of the last year as a baptism by fire. In some strange way, by some strange manner, it may be the most accurate description.

Starting over. Finding a new way. Washed away (literally). (Remember there was a flood, too.) Surrounded and upheld in love by dear people. Called to continue on. And...to find hope in the midst of a mess. In the midst of despair.

It has been messy. The clean up continues. Outside. Inside. Boxes. And new boxes.

What I thought would be, is not the reality of today. Yet, I am here.

Even in a mess, when one is a mess, life is messy...hope can be found. Love can be found. God can be found.

Hope springs eternal. Amen.

BEAT

ps: Look at my Marigold. Goodness how time even changes our favorite four legged friends.

Two Months: In Pictures

In no certain order.

BEAT

Two Months

To play catch up? Or just go from here? I guess updates would be nice. How about a little list? Or a long list? I am sure additions and amendments are to come. Check back.

1. I graduated. Most days I thought it wouldn't happen, but it did.
2. I survived a flood. No house damage, but I was without power and water locked for over 48 hours. Best part? (Hint of sarcasm.) It was during final's week.
3. Broke up with Nashville. It had to be done. We just were not a good fit. I will visit. One day. Many months from now. I still know some quality people in the area.
4. Once again, I had to say good-bye to friends. From Kansas to Nashville to Atlanta and Athens, we scattered around this big ole country. I miss them dearly.
5. Said hello to the familiar. Moved back to Georgia. The parents are adjusting to having a child back in the house. Bless them.
6. Went on a glorious vacation to the beach. 8 days in the sun. And guess what? I only burned on the last day. This was a BIG accomplishment.
7. And then went on vacation for another few days to the lake. With much gladness, this retreat was interrupted with two big announcements.
8. My puppy! I got the cutest puppy, a lovely and ever chewing basset-beagle mix. She is loud. She fights sleep. Growing like a weed. My little sugar lump lump is named Marigold Francis. Have no idea if I will ever have children, so I gave her a middle name.
9. And, the number two development is that I got a job. The last four, now five months have been a tiresome mixture of grief, sadness, trauma, heart break, and processing. I will be the local pastor for two churches in the Athens area. My excitement is contagious. My commitment to the church remains strong. I just want to serve and love God's people. And that is what I will be doing. I start at the end of the month. And yes, I will preach at both churches each Sunday.
10. Life is finding a new rhythm. That's the best way to describe the current moment and mood.

Continued peace,

BEAT

ps: Meet Marigold!

That Cardigan

You know the cardigan? The one I mentioned two posts down.

The one with silver and gold, shiny and shimmery?

I busted it out yesterday. Paired it with a brown tank and wide leg jeans.

Not one, but two gentlemen and fellow colleagues mentioned I looked pretty and beautiful in said cardigan. It helps that I put on make-up on and curled the hair.

But hey, I put on the cardigan. No longer just hanging in the closet. It does not have the colors of black or blue involved.

So there you go. Not quite as new. But still newish.

I guess that means I need to wear it again...and again...and again.

BEAT

Is that new?

After a long, hard winter, there was a moment when I remembered how to smile. (Genuinely smile.) It was the first time I made a joke. (A self reflective joke.) I call this progress.

Someone offering a sincere compliment posed the question, "Is that new?" That's all it took. The words just came out. Well, actually there were no words at first. Laughter. Bubbling up laughter from the pit of my stomach. Muscles in my abdomen that had not been used for two months and counting. There it was. Laughter. And my answer, "Why yes, yes it is. Everything is new--head to toe. Even the underwear. (Wink)"

The day went forth, continued. Five more people asked the same question: "Is that new?" Each time? Each and every time I smiled, gave a hearty laugh and offered the same carefree answer.

You see, it's true. From head to toe it is new. Except the glasses and those few pairs of shoes that were salvageable. I wish I had that same response with that same spirit each time someone inquires or compliments. More often than not, I just offer a quite "yes." Don't get me wrong. At least I appear put together enough for people to ask and occasionally offer a compliment. For that I am grateful.

The truth, if I may? I miss my things. Please (for all that is good and holy in the world) don't tell me they are just things. I know this. I do. But they were my things. And I really liked my things because they offered me comfort, security, and stability. Yes, even those green peep-toe sandals I pull out around easter.

I miss what was. And for once, new things are not always better. My old things...my gone things...my no-more-mine things were part of my identity. They reflected my personality...my being...me. They are gone. If you haven't clued in yet, I am not just talking about clothes.

I am left with new things. New things that were bought in a rush and without a clear mind. (Imagining the silver and gold cardigan that is still yet to be worn. But hey, I got it for $8?) New things that are black and gray and navy...not green and blue and purple. Yes, I am starting to replenish my wardrobe with some brighter hues of Spring. Most days though, I am drawn to the blacks and grays.

Friends, if you are still out there, I miss...my clothes, my purses, my books, my couch, my jewelry, my memories. I miss what was...and find myself trying to understand what is. What is...well, it does not offer the same comfort and security I once knew. That is why I am not there yet. That is why I am not the happy, hopeful, and joyful person you may remember. The trauma and despair have changed me. Probably forever.

Each day I get out of bed. (Still the hardest decision I make each day.) I put on what is new. I go forth into my day missing what was, knowing newness surrounds me...and live. Sad, anticipating hope, despairing, and yet even experiencing a few moments of carefree laughter are who I am now.

Is that new? Yep. And I hate it.

BEAT

*For those reading and unclear about the details surrounding the above post, I experienced an apartment fire on January 20. It started in my bedroom, where I woke up to it spreading to my bed. I was able to get out of the apartment with very little physical injury. The fire and smoke damage did destroy most of my belongings. Since then there have been other personal and professional tragedies. When people ask how I am, I give three answers. "I'm hanging in there." "I got out of bed this morning." And "I'm in process." This post is about the process, hanging in there, and getting out of bed.

Photo Friday: Holy Week

Good Friday 2010

West End UMC

Nashville, TN

What an honor to lead and worship with the people of WEUMC.

BEAT

Photo Sorta Friday

I don't want to be a downer. It is just where I am.

Home. Let me come home. Home is wherever I'm with you.

Home. Let me go ho-oh-ome.

I wish it were so. I wish I knew where to call home.

Soon. But not soon enough.

BEAT

ps: Thanks to Joy In Me for sharing.

Photo Friday

I debated for weeks whether to share the below picture. In my mind it is graphic. I am sorry if it upsets any readers. This is a therapeutic moment for me. I am confronting the realty of what was and what is. Everyday continues a quest for hope. Within the ashes...may there be hope? And a coming peace that I cannot imagine? If I was praying these days, that would be my prayer. A prayer for hope and peace...

What Was My Home

Nashville, TN

January 2o, 2010

God's hope. God's peace.

BEAT

I and Love and You

It has been a while. There's a story. But it still makes me cry. I may tell it. I may not.

I'm making it...hour by hour. Yep. I'm still at hour by hour.

Sorry to be ambiguous. My emotions are on the surface. And these emotions make me tired. So tired.

Still processing the loss...

BEAT

ps: I and love and you. Because I've got some good folk surrounding me.

The Return

I am sorta back. We will call it the Slow Return. But I have returned. Thanks to Google for the awesomeness that is Reader. I wake up early, crawl in front of my computer and catch up on "My Blogs." So, I am up-to-date with you. You, however, are not up-to-date with me.

One post will not get us there. But I do have some thoughts for you. These are the random ponderings, questions, and life lessons from the last month. No logical order. Just go with the flow. That brought a smile to my face. I asked you to go with the flow when I rarely ever do anything without resistance. Bless my heart.

1. Sometimes quantity is better than quality.
2. I do not recommend driving long distances without sleep.
3. And I do not recommend making the return trip if sleep still has not occurred.
4. If for some reason you do have to make a long trip with no sleep, I do recommend short naps along the way at rest stops.
5. Asking for prayer can be a humbling experience.
6. Trusting your instincts is risky.
7. There is no greater feeling than preaching a good sermon.
8. I have some good (read great) parents.
9. And I have some loving friends.
10. Having a broken kitchen sink makes life difficult
11. I have never been more unsure about the future.
12. I graduate in less than four months.
13. Prayer, well, requires willingness to be transformed.
14. Online shopping is addictive.
15. I am ready for a trip.
16. And to graduate.

That's the start of the story. And I'm sticking to it.

BEAT

Until January 13...

...I will be working.

I so wish this had said, "I will be on vacation."

I've neglected this damn blog for weeks now. Why not explain? And leave it be. I don't like feeling guilty.

The semester is coming to a close, but I have so much work remaining for commissioning/ordination/probationary paperwork. So much. I've got some preaching dates in the coming days, too.

I leave you with these fun pictures to get you through. These are good. Real good. My friends played with the sculpting ball while I cooked for them. Best entertainment as I worked from the kitchen. Loved every second. I got some good friends. And they know how to bring the laughs.

Advent blessings. Happy holidays. Merry Christmas. And the hope of a peaceful New Year.

BEAT

ps: Best part, my last semester starts January 11. There will be no break. And the work just keeps coming. But I will be back. Just don't hold your breath.

Living With?

Here are my top five things I can't live without at the current moment. Maybe live without is a little strong. How about make life bearable? Easier?

1. Trader Joe's Gingerbread Coffee:

Who needs Starbucks? Yummy, favorable, and bold.

The pick me up. THE pick me up.

2: Origins Oil Controlling Lotion:

A modern miracle? I say yes.

With stress comes not-so-perfect skin.

This stops the dreadful shine. Worth the price.

3. Super Sticky Post-Its:

For the simple pleasure of checking

things off the endless to-do lists.

I enjoy the larger versions.

Good for meetings, notes, and doodles.

Stick on sticky ones.

4. Old Navy Twist Neck T-Shirt:

I have five. I have five in four colors.

Dress them up. Dress them down.

This is my go to clothing item of the semester.

5. Excedrin Migraine:

I blame it on the computer screen I stare at too often.

Plus, they carry a little extra punch with the

added caffeine in all Excedrin products.

Bonus? Why yes!

Share and share alike. What gets you through the day?

BEAT

Use Your Words

One of my favorite blogs, Girl's Gone Child, uses the phrase "use your words" for her comments section. The first time I noticed this little phrase instead of the usual "comments" tag at the end of a post, I pondered. That's right, I pondered. I took a moment and thought it over. What an invitation! What a nice little phrase to request another's thoughts on your thoughts.

A few posts back I referenced my current struggle with words. Not only do I not want to use my words, I don't want to think about the words that I could (and should) use. This love -(mostly) hate relationship with words has stretched into all facets of my life. From class assignments to church work, I am tired.

I registered for my last semester of classes last week. I wish it was more bitter-sweet. I do. I wish I was one of those people who lamented the end of a student lifestyle. I no longer find fulfillment in the classroom. Daily I'm surrounded by some of the greatest minds in the academy. I know this. I sit, listen, and learn in awe of their intellect.

I will make it through this period of love - (mostly) hate relationship with words. I have to if I want to pass my classes and get paid from work. Even if it takes locking myself in a small room with no distractions. This process usually includes turning off the wireless on my computer.

The words are there. (God, I hope they are.) I need to get past my own unwillingness and selfish. And realize I am in a time and place that is fleeting and to which (most likely) I will never return.

I'm (re)relearning to use my words. I hope you are using your words. And if you have any, leave some for me. I like the distraction. You know, when I allow myself to turn the wireless back on.

Turning it off,

BEAT

More than 30 seconds?

My brother recently commented that it only takes 30 seconds to read my blog. Have I been lacking substance? Too many pictures? (What? I like pictures.)

Maybe I am tired of words. Yes, I know I am a talker. (Go ahead. Laugh.) I write constantly. I think continually. And I talk. Constantly and continually. Put those things together and I arrive at disliking words.

I want to share those thoughts. I don't do all this thinking for nothing. Maybe you didn't come here to hear about God. Well, find another blog. I'm going to talk about God because I think about God about...80% of the day. Let's all remember, I am getting a degree about the Divine. Getting kinda tired of reading about my friends? That is about 7% of my thinking. The other 13% is consumed with family, future, and food. (I like food. I really like good food.) The future thoughts are starting to take up more and more time as graduation and the hopes of commissioning loom nearer and closer.

Maybe Photo Friday will be joined by Thursday Thought? Or Soapbox Sunday? These thoughts will consume me if I don't get them on paper...err screen. I am tired of words, but the words are not tired of me. This is the tension that I struggle with when blogging. I have substance. And I want my words to be worth more than 30 seconds.

Working on it.

BEAT

ps: These pictures are some highlights of my birthday dinner. Oh the laughter. And the trash talking. Plus the lovely kissing and hugging...and grabbing?

Embarrassing Lane

...I mean Memory Lane.

As I celebrate my day of birth, my mother thought it would be a good idea to embarrass myself. Wait, I mean spread the cuteness that was BEAT in her younger years. So enjoy.

Here are some jewels from the past. Most of these are near Halloween. Many of my birthdays parties had a Halloween theme.

Let the embarrassment...I mean fun...begin.

Happy birthday to me!

BEAT

ps: Picture Set 2 features my brother and I fulfilling our dreams of being professional wrestlers. Picture Set 4 does have me sitting on the toilet and in isolation (or Time-Out). And Picture Set 5 best displays the early signs of my shamelessness.

Like Mother, Like Daughter

And this my friends, summarizes the weekend.

Isn't she cute?

BEAT

Real and Presentable

The REAL Us:

The PRESENTABLE Us:

What a weekend. What a good weekend. What a good, good weekend.

BEAT

Photo Friday: Bestie Edition, Part 2

BEAT and Megs of Red Cottage Life

Nashville, TN

October 2007

Megs is here for her annual visit! And this one is going to be the best...and last...in Nashville.

Here's to laughing, eating, and watching Lifetime.

BEAT

What I'm Not

I have a habit of saying what I'm not...

I can tell you what I'm not. I'm not a scholar. I'm not skinny. I'm not terribly peppy. I can continue. Don't make me.

Looking back over some posts, I think it is easier to identify the areas in which I lack. Not even areas where I need to grow, but parts of my personality and abilities that are less.

So much for positive thinking?

Sure. Process of elimination. But that could be a long process.

It's not about boasting. Or carrying on. At some point I gotta claim it. Right?

I want to know who I am. And what I can do. When I do know, I should be able to say it.

It may be easier to say what I'm not. I think I need to work on saying what I am.

What I am,

BEAT

Tell Me About Your People

Who? These people?

I've got this person, too.

And let's not forget about these folks.

I kinda like these people, too.

I got lots of people.

I have some new duties this year at my internship. I will be making pastoral visits and calls. This mostly involves older adults and the homebound. Yesterday I visited three different assisted and nursing care living centers. I even gave a homily at a communion service. Is it strange that I feel more...comfortable? Energetic? Joyous? When I am with the older folks. Not because they are old(er), but because they get it. Life is for living. And for sharing. Smiling. Laughing. Honesty. They tell it like it is. I appreciate that. I really, really do.

My last visit was with one feisty lady. Walking in her apartment, I thought I was meeting the Godmother. She was sitting at the end of the room, surrounded by photos and plants. She was sitting high in her chair. She waved me over. Told me to sit. (And I did.) I was with another minister, but the Godmother focused on me. Looking me up and down through her good eye, we carried on a casual conversation. About 15 minutes into the visit the Godmother abruptly says, "Tell me about your people." My response, "My family?" The Godmother huffs and says, "Yes. Your family. What is your background? Their trade?"

My people? My background? Their trade? The Godmother is a unique blend of Southern Belle and elitist socialite. I loved it. I love her. After answering her questions, she looked me up and down again through the good eye. She declared, "I'm going to pray for you."

That's my job. I'm the one supposed to pray. I'm the one supposed to listen. It was a nice turn of events. I got to talk about my people. People I love and adore. And I was blessed with a sincere prayer.

I've got good people.

BEAT