we...(for the silent ones)

We are lost in our self awareness 

We know we're needy and scary

We don't mean to be

As a matter of fact

We don't want to be

And so we search for a love

Who won't make us explain

Again

Why we clean so rigorously

Or why we appear to languish

When what is true is the anguish

But we are not the norm

We are not happy enough

We are too heavy for your lifting

But we don't mean to be

And so we retreat

Into the arms of danger

To find security

If only for a moment

Then shame claims us

Like lost untagged luggage

Dizzy from too much time 

On a carousel to nowhere

No, thank you

I don't need meclizine

Or antivert

I needed to be seen

Protected

Re-membered

Things I Wish People Understood

Things I wish people understood:

1- Teaching is not just recycling last year's lesson for this year's students. Every day, technology puts students in a position to be light years ahead of the Dick and Jane primers that school districts are struggling to afford. Teaching is an Olympic event and requires cutting edge techniques and constant self-assessment and training just to stay one class period ahead of today's students. (Whether they have had breakfast, free lunch, life coaches or private tutors is irrelevant. These jokers are not the ones you studied about in grad school.  They are not Miss Crabtree's students and your one room school house and multiple choice (i.e. easy to grade) tests are not going to suffice.)

2- Teaching includes time for preparation and time for grading...the students' work and your own. I'm not a great teacher because I use great slide presentations. I am a great teacher because I listen to my students and do not assume that I know more about their learning than they do. I prepare like it all depends on me and then pray because it all really depends on God.

3- I am ordained clergy. This means that I will never be afforded the luxury of being a "pew member" of anybody's church. Yes, I graduated from seminary, but no, I do not want to be a pastor. Why? I am not called to be a pastor. We don't just jump up and show God our resume and treat God like a placement agency! God is the Agent who makes "the call" and tells us where we are to go. I am a teacher and a good administrator. Trust me, you don't want me to have the final say on things in a church. You want someone who has a pastor's heart. Would you want a Doctor who was trained in medical school but was better with charting than with diagnosing and caring for you? Right. Me neither. So, don't look at me like I'm crazy when I attempt to explain to you that not all are called to pastor. Some of us are called to other things. This also means that I am held to a higher standard...so my decisions about what church I will "choose" to join is not ever REALLY my decision at all. It is an active choice to hear what God is saying to me about what I am called to do and where I am called to do it. Joining "my mama's church" is not a luxury I have anymore. So, don't push or pull on us when we are trying to hear from God. Just pray with us so that we might....oh,  I don't know...Hear from God!

3a- A call to preach is NOT synonymous with a call to pastor. All pastors preach to their congregations as God gives utterance but all preachers are not called to care for the flock. Some preachers are given a word to plant in due season and the pastor then cultivates the congregation to be good soil and produce good fruit from the preacher who just came by to share a word from The Lord. (I'm not talking about hucksters, I am talking about real preachers. No shade, just a distinction.) Some excellent preachers would make terrible pastors and some pastors are not the best preachers. If you find yourself in a church where they are one and the same...you ought to stop reading this post and whisper a "Thank You, Lord" prayer...RIGHT NOW!!

4- Incarceration in unemployment is not the same as "me time", "time off", "down time", "play time" or any other designation that implies that this is fun and relaxing. I can't share all of the details of money management but I can tell you that there is more behind the scenes than you can imagine. What you spent on lunch last week is what I "earned" on unemployment because of a technicality with my filing. There is no "appeal process" or "person to speak to" and by the time you find it, it's too late. So, cherish your job, no matter how much you dislike it today. This thing right here...is complicated. (To clarify: I am not whining about collecting unemployment, I am merely pointing out that it is complicated and many people forget that I'm not just working from home because I chose this life and I'm secretly independently wealthy and capable of making ends meet. I just don't always share the actual numerical disparity between my ends.) So, when I don't take your hour long call in the middle of the day, don't be offended or think that I should answer because I am sitting home doing nothing. That's insulting. My part time work is still time consuming and my search for a new gig is also time consuming. I probably work just as hard as you most days except that my commute is shorter and my coworkers (the dog and the plants) are more pleasant. 

5- There are things that I can only tell Jesus. There are parts of my life that are open to anyone who inquires. There are other parts that I can only tell Jesus. I often wish I could share these things with someone at the end of the day, just to have a human being share the load. I have my own things in the Jesus Only box and I have other people's hurts, cares, concerns and deep secrets in the Jesus Only box. My heart is full of love and breaks open in prayer every day. These are the things that I can only tell Jesus. What you see is indeed what you get but what you see is not all there is. There are things that I can only tell Jesus. 

These are just some of the things I wish people understood...

I remember...

I remember the moment that I became this woman

I remember what it was like to live carelessly 

       with no regard for the matters of the universe.

I remember thinking that it really would be okay

I remember feeling safe and knowing or thinking that life was going to be like this always

I remember the day that the universe cracked wide open and I dangled helplessly

        in the vortex that whirled around me

                        taking all stability with it

I remember the moment that the vortex spat me back onto the earth 

         which would remain forever shifting under my feet.

I began working on tikkun olam

          but i was mistaken

I was not working to recover the world

I was desperately trying to spackle my own world back together

I was trying to pour concrete into the cracks which threatened to trip me

         and scrape my pretty little knees which had never been knobby

I was trying to stitch together the fabric that had been torn apart

        left irregularly jagged, not as if cut with sharp pinking shears

             but rather torn pulled apart not on the seam                                    

                 but in the places where the fabric had been woven together in the beginning

I wanted to glue the clouds into the sky lest they move and shift again

I wanted to measure the water as it fell from the sky 

      to ensure that the ground would accept her rains without being overwhelmed and flooding out

I wanted to repair my world which had all at once split wide open

      a world flayed like a fish...gutted

        with innards tossed aside as refuse while flesh cooks on a bed of coals

My world had become nothing but a caught fish writhing on a hook

         flopping around trying to avoid the sharp knife

              designed to strip it of its scales

                 leaving it vulnerable and facing certain death

I played God and tried to recover my world 

          but it was too late

                 it had already been torn asunder

And I scrambled to repair it

By capping toothpaste and

Making beds with impeccable hospital corners

Washing dishes and putting them away

Lining up my shoes and alphabetizing my cds

Dewey Decimaling my books

Sizing and colorizing my closet

But to no avail. 

The world is still the same as it was 

    when the vortex spat me out

        onto cracked concrete

That claws at my knees

  When I pray

©Reverendsister's Ink 2013

Sick and Single: Only one is a condition

For No Shame Day I intended to write something far more eloquent. Instead, this is what I came up with. When you pray, remember those who suffer...

Sick and single - only one is a "condition"

"When in the darkness, I would grope, faith always sees a star of hope." Beams of Heaven

No, it does not. In the darkness, in that living, breathing metaphor for the mental illness that plagues me, I do not always see a star of hope. Perhaps my unembodied faith does, but I do not. I see only the thick darkness that is pierced by streetlights and on a good night, the light of the moon when it is properly positioned with respect to the sun. 

Being ill is bad enough and to relieve the world of the burden of caring for us, we take it on boldly. But in so doing, in our attempts to avoid sounding like we are chronic complainers, we often endure it alone. No one wants to be alone when she is sick. Surely, I can manage to pour a glass of water and dump a pill or two into my own hand. There is relief for the physical symptoms that can be found in small pills with numbers or letters etched into them. But the real healing from the pain of mental illness often comes from the gift of presence. A silent, understanding presence. The kind of comfort that we remember from childhood when we could climb into an adult's safe lap and feel loved. That is sufficient. Just to be loved is enough. Just to know that mine are not the only eyes trying to pierce the dark midnight of depression. Just to know that this too shall pass, but until it does, I am not left to bear the burden of it by myself. A hand to hold or a gentle caress of the cheek will keep the darkness at bay if only for a moment. Yet, for the single ones, that small gesture is often more elusive than the cure itself.

When the mind and the body change the rules by which you live, you find yourself trapped in a prison that tortures you and it feels as if you are in fact the guard. The ultimate betrayal is that your body has become your prison and your mind is the warden who forgets to feed you and who by default, assigns you to solitary confinement where you are abandoned by that which has imprisoned you and then the punishment is complete, for you have not even your mind to accompany you in this prison. This is the unimaginable reality for some and the overwhelming truth for others. 

The secret of mental illness - whether depression, schizophrenia, bipolar disorder or another designation - is the reversible cloak of darkness and solitude. We will try to hide and can only hope that someone will seek us...find us...touch us...help to heal us. Some of us are sick and single...only one is recognized by the medical community - as a condition.

Betrayal

She speaks to me and 

She hears me when I speak

She knows my heart and my thoughts

She is my closest ally most times

There are days though,

when she abandons me

I do not know where she goes

I do not know who she meets in 

her secret

clandestine meetings

without me

I do not have any trace of her

only memories of fun times together

I remember and cling 

desperately

breathlessly

because it is all I know 

I do not know if she knows

how it hurts when she leaves

I do not know if she realizes

that I ache when she is gone

 I lose all orientation

I lose my will to live

because without her 

I cannot think and 

I can barely breathe

and there is no life of the mind

when there is no mind

She knows all of my secrets

I wonder if she is telling them

In her absence, I wonder

 if I am telling them

by accident

without her as my guardian

She guards my mouth 

and when she is absent

 who knows what i will say

to the careless listener

who is rendered speechless

in the presence of

the revelation of

the life of my  mind

which is now gone again

I trust her with all

of my thoughts

all of my wandering

traipsing

lilting

running

thoughts

I love her but she betrays me

she leaves me

she leaves no number

I cannot find her

And I need her so

Sometimes

She returns and we

come together again

and then we fall

into our rhythms again

 the rhythm of clear thought

the release of clinging

the release of anxiety

for with her,

I am safe again

She is me 

and I am she

but my mind is a wild thing

incapable of commitment

only brilliant flashes

and moments of grandeur

and winged feet

that carry her away

leaving me feeling

like even the life of my mind

is suicidal

Reverendsister's Ink (c) 2013

.

(Saying) my name

I had a name

I heard you

Say it

I remember it

rolling off of your lips

like sweet sticky peach juice

after that first bite

tried to capture it again

tried to pull it back into your mouth

and you found that

you could not

it had become a drop

it had fallen to the ground

attracting hungry ants

with all of its sugary splendor

and they consumed 

what they did not know

was my name

having fallen sweetly 

from your lips

I had a name

until you changed it

and you said it

with heat and fire

aflame on an arrow

meant to pierce my heart

but it hit the bone

and burnt the marrow

and I began to die

Please,

do not utter my name

for it is not safe 

in your mouth

where flames char the vowels

and crisp the consonants

Please, 

forget my name

for it is not safe

in your mouth

Now, I long for One

to change my name

Sarah and Sarai

Mara and Naomi

Esther and Hadassah

What shall my name be

I know I have a new name

over in glory 

...and it's mine

     ...all mine

But Dear God

when You change my name

say my name

on the wind

say my name 

on the stars

say my name 

in the voice of a child

say my name

in the loving tenor of a man

say my name

on moon's bright beams

Oh Dear God

say my name

on blades of grass

and petals of tulips

say my name 

in syrup and in honey

say my name 

in rain's pelting drops

Oh, My God

say my name

call me

over and over

say my name

over and over

But Oh My God

my soul cries

for You to say my name

when You say

You Love Me

so I will know

it's me

to whom You speak

when You say my name

in water, wind and sacrament

Carla, I love you

so do this in remembrance of Me

Though you cannot say My Holy Name

Carla, I love you

for you keep My Holy Name

safe in your mouth

Carla, I love you

and I have called you 

by name

I have called you by 

your new name

My Beloved

in this, hear and know

you are mine

and you are loved

Gave and Took (in progress)

Gave and Took

Most relationships have a balance

of give and take

When I look at ours

I see that one of us gave

and one of us took

There's a reason

why give and take are

in the present tense

as actions going on

right now

continuously

as opposed to what actually 

happened

in the past but continuously

one of us gave

and the other took

The math was bad

but no one checked our work

one of us gave

and the other just took

The giver developed a condition

of congestive heart failure

from a lack of reciprocity

in the give and take

a condition made acute by 

the took and taking

No transfusion will 

cure the condition

Liars say that

time heals all wounds

I daresay

not so

love and attentiveness

and restoration of the gift

back to the giver

 with a fence to protect 

and guard against

another who merely

blindly

selfishly

takes

like a child on halloween

with hands out and expectations high

only in it for the goods

publicly on the take

with the world's blessing

all trick

no treat

The give

eclipsed by

The crook who only took