the tenth year

in case you haven't noticed, i enjoy measuring time. i see life in terms of dates, anniversaries, seasons, patterns. this post is no different. this post is in honor of many ten-year anniversaries in my life this year. this (just over a) year that i am speaking of is March 2003 to July 2004. during this period of time, many important life-changing events and milestones occurred, each of which i would not be the same without. first, in march of 2003, my grandpa on my mom's side passed away. this was quite unexpected, and was sort of a freak accident. this was also the first tragedy that my family had experienced together (to my recollection). i never really got to know my papa as an adult. most of my memories of him involve him sitting quietly at the family dinner table working on a crossword puzzle, kicking everyone's butt at jeopardy, running around in a wetsuit during our vacations to the beach, or trying to tell a joke or story but loving it so much that he couldn't say more than five words without being overcome by laughter trying to get it out. i was in my senior year of high school and had my two nieces (2 and 3 years old at the time) were staying with us. i learned one really important lesson about myself during this time: i can do anything that i put my mind to. because my mom was busy taking care of details and family and whatnot, i spent many an early morning getting myself and the girls ready, dropping them off at daycare, picking them up, and finding a way to do my homework, feed us all, and grieve all at the same time. to be clear, i don't resent this experience at all, rather i see it as an affirmation of my character. i learned that in those moments of crisis where everything seems to be falling apart, i am the kind of person who steps up, who takes care of and supports others, and keeps her head. i like that about myself. second, in may of 2003, my grandpa on my dad's side passed away. this was also unexpected. the previous fall, my grandma had been diagnosed with terminal liver cancer. there was at least some sense that we were sort of waiting for that event to occur. so when my grandpa died of a heart attack, it was surprising. in our strange sort of family spirituality, we talked about this event after my grandma passed as though my grandpa couldn't stand to live without my grandma, and so it was only natural that he would go first. my grandpa used to tell me that i had an old soul. i have learned a lot about him in the last couple years, and he was a man that i regret not having the opportunity to know as an adult. he was a man of his time, the generation of 2.5 kids, "yes dear"s, and dinner of meat and potatoes on the table at 5pm sharp. but he loved his family fiercely, and he was proud of their legacy. he spent his life in service to others, working to improve education in northern california. i grew up hearing negative things highlighted about my grandpa, but since then, i have learned that there is way more than meets the eye. our stories are way bigger. next, in june of 2003, i graduated from high school. this event, as well as what followed as a result, set a course for my life that brought me to where i am today. high school was lame. i'm sure everyone says that. but there was something unique about my high school experience. i tell stories of high school to people who didn't grow up there and they look at me like i'm crazy, like that kind of thing wasn't normal. when i graduated, i hoped for change; for something different, better, bigger. but because i was 16 when i graduated (turned 17 shortly thereafter), i wasn't allowed to go away to college. the dream that i had of attending stanford or ucla and becoming a writer slipped out of my hands. i ended up living at home and going to the local university, and i found out that college is not all that different from high school when you commute from home. so, this marked the beginning of a period of profound disappointment and discontentment with my life that opened the door for other important things to happen. if i had been able to go away to college, i certainly would be on a different path today. summer 2003, i should have been arrested. i wont tell that story here, except to say that it isn't a secret, and i will tell you about it if you want to hear it. the point of including it is that it was the beginning of a wake-up for me. the beginning of a realization that the way i was living wasn't what i wanted my life to be like. fast forward a bit, to april 2004. my dissatisfaction with life had reached a new level. i had an experience with some friends that left me reeling. i happened to go to LA to visit a friend that spring break, and that experience quite literally changed everything. i saw something different, something bigger, something better than i had. and thank goodness i had this dear friend, who had been praying for me for years, because she told me about what was so different, and it made sense to me. this dude Jesus was different, bigger, and better than i had imagined. and i haven't turned back since. finally, in july 2004, my grandma passed away. we watched her get sicker and sicker. it is hard to watch someone you love deteriorate before your eyes. the hardest part for me to handle was that i never had closure. i heard later about conversations that my aunt, my cousin, and other people were having with my grandma. hearing stories, saying goodbye. i didn't have that. and that's my fault. this was back when i didn't know how to grieve well, and i was afraid. and so i didn't say goodbye. i never shared with my grandma that i had become a christian. i never asked her what she believed. i didn't tell her i loved her one last time. i have realized how important it is to not hold back, to push into those moments that are hard because it's worth it on the other side. and i have realized that it is important to tell people what they mean to you. not just because you may not get another chance, but also because we all need to hear it sometimes. so there you have it. my reflections on some of the ten-year anniversaries that are upon me in the next few months. it is important for me to look back on these things, to reflect and to remember, and then to look forward. it is important that this year is ten years. i haven't done anything in my life for ten years (partially because i'm still young, and partially because most of my adult life so far has been pretty non-committal and flighty). in many ways, the period of time that i am honoring with this post (and particularly the event i will celebrate in april of next year) marks the beginning of my journey of figuring out who i am and how i fit in this world. and that's worth celebrating.

class meeting

part of my first year seminary experience has been participation in something called a "class meeting." it is sort of modeled after the Wesleyan band meeting, but our groups are not gender exclusive, and have a couple other minor changes. our class meeting consisted of four first-year students, one second-year student, and one faculty member. we have met once a week all year. there have been two main components of our class meeting: to check in with one another on the state of our souls (this usually manifested itself in each person sharing something about how God had worked in their life during the week), and alms-giving. class meeting was NOT bible study, prayer group, or a book group. today was our last meeting of the year with all six of us present. throughout the year i have had moments of reflection and appreciation for the presence of this group in my life for this first year of seminary, but today i thought i'd write it down. being a part of this group was invaluable this year. one of the biggest things that i learned from this group of people is about how i articulate my story to others. somewhere in the middle of winter quarter, one of my classmates called me out. he noted that i had shared my entire time without ever using the word God. and he asked me to speak specifically about how God played a role in what i was sharing. i was censoring God. i used language that was safe, language that would be sure not to offend, and language that didn't do justice to the power of God in my life. since then, i have paid more attention to how i communicate what God is doing in my life, and i have learned to recognize things as God rather than coincidence. and i have learned to ask better questions. this group of people has been vulnerable together, we have laughed together, we have thrown our hands up in the air together, we have grieved together, and we have prayed together. i don't think i ever would have thought that this kind of group would have been beneficial - i mean, i had never heard of a small group that didn't study the bible or wasn't one of these newfangled "affinity groups". i am here to tell you, friends, that there is something to this idea of a class meeting or band meeting. it appears that i get to do it again next year, and i hope that it becomes an indispensable part of my discipleship in the future.

insecurity

[I keep going back and forth on whether I want this post to be password protected. For now, it is public. That may change.] this week, i read this article (ignore how many times he uses the word "gift"), and it has me thinking a lot about insecurity. articles, when combined with real life situations, result in blog posts. i have learned the hard way that my level of anxiety is a pretty good indicator that something in my life needs to be examined, evaluated, checked for fruitfulness. this week, i have felt my anxiety level rising. thankfully, i am a fairly self-aware person, so to say that my anxiety level is rising simply means that it is slightly higher than next to nothing, because i have somehow managed to cultivate a life where i can hold things loosely (even when, perhaps, i shouldn't). anyhow, my anxiety level has been rising. so i have begun to ask myself why. and here's what i've got: i feel really good about where i am right now. things are looking up. things that were hard to walk through are not so hard, because at least now i feel like i have others beside me. i consider my life six months ago, and it was full of uncertainty, full of hurt, full of lament. today, i see hope, i see relationship, and i feel known. but here's the thing... amidst this sense that life is really good, i am anxious. i feel so incredibly insecure. i find myself reflecting on interactions with others wishing i could take back some of my words, or wondering what would have happened if i had said what i really wanted to say in a particular moment. i. feel. so. vulnerable. i feel as though i have laid myself bare, that i have put myself on the line, and that i have allowed myself to push into something. and i am terrified. i am so afraid that at any moment people will discover just how annoying i am, just how much of a loser i am, or just how much they only tolerate my presence. i am waiting for the other shoe to drop, because now i have something to lose. six months ago, i could take a risk. i could say all i wanted about young adults at UPC because i had nothing else to lose. things are different now. the thing about being known by others is that it necessarily gives them the opportunity to reject you...to your face. see, if someone we don't know dislikes us, we can say its because they don't really know us. but when someone who knows you, who knows your hopes, your fears, your dreams decides they don't like you, there's no way of reasoning our way around that. and this is where my current insecurity lies. it lies in the fear that one day i will wake up and realize that what i have is gone. or even worse, that what i thought i have was never there to begin with, and that i was deceiving myself the whole time. where is the gift in my insecurity? i don't see a gift right now. i only see the pieces of myself that i am afraid will push people away, and i fear there is nothing i can do to stop that from happening. this makes me anxious, and thus, makes me reflect on how i can handle this better. how i can understand better where my security lies and how to live out of that place rather than this place of fear. still thinking.

m'rele Carly

more than a month after training and sending a team to haiti, i am finally able to think about the trip, to hear stories with an open heart and mind, and to fully process what it means that i didn't go this year. i spoke on the phone with Deb this weekend, and i was flooded with memories of sitting on her porch or standing in her kitchen, exposing my soul and my struggles, bearing her burdens with her, and spending time in prayer together. i was flooded with memories of children in blue school uniforms chasing after us, playing games with us, teaching me Kreyol. i was reminded of what it was like to return to that school in Foison, to see the children that i know, to call out their names and to see their faces light up. i could almost feel the warmth of the Haitian sun on my skin and smell the sweet smell that hits your nose at the first step off the plane. i also talked to Amber this week, and she told me a story from her trip, from the one day the team spent at the school in Foison. she told me about how they saw the building that our churches worked together to complete. and she told me about the little girl named Clarnese who came up to her and asked for Carly, and when she responded that Carly wasn't there, Clarnese turned to her friends and told them that Carly wasn't there this time. this story brought me to tears. i keep the kids that i know in Haiti in my heart every day. i see their faces on my wall and i pray that they are well. i know that there are limits to the relationships that we can build with thousands of miles and cultural, language and age barriers between us. but i learned early that what i can do is know their names. remember their faces. and pray. each time i have returned, the moment that i looked forward most to was the first day stepping off that truck and being able to call those kids by name. but i never imagined that they would give me that same blessing. i still don't know how to handle the fact that i didn't go this year. or how to live with a piece of my heart being held in the hands of these kids who live so far away and so differently from me. but i know that the moment i still look forward to is getting out of the back of that truck and being able to call those kids by name once more.

perpetual tension

i am so exhausted. but i feel more full than i have in a really long time. here's what i mean. i have spent much of the last one-two years feeling a sense of distance from God, more specifically from the presence of the Holy Spirit in my life. i have felt sustained, held up somehow in this absence, by the intellectual pursuit of God and by participation in the liturgical life of my church. and this has been good. i recognize the value and the lesson that came along with experiencing that time of life. what has changed in the last few weeks is that this sense of presence has returned. i know that God never left me, and i understood and could see that God was working in my life despite what i felt. but something is different now. i can feel the Holy Spirit drawing near. i feel more than sustained, i feel full. perhaps it is the result of the integration of all that i have been learning in this first year of seminary. perhaps it is the attention i have paid to the practice of grieving in the last six months. perhaps i am beginning to cultivate a stronger sensitivity to the movement of the Spirit. regardless of the cause, i am growing as a disciple of Jesus and pressing into those places that i feel movement. exhaustion has set in, though. i will put most of the blame on the brief but meaningful trip to Philadelphia last week, the homework overload that preceded it, and the theological reflection that inevitably has followed it. this trip is a large part of why i feel full, but i walked away from that experience with a profound sense of simultaneous joy and grief. i have also been reflecting on the work God has been doing in my life, and i have realized something. it is not just today, in response to this conference, that i am sitting in the tension of joy and grief. this is a theme that has categorized my existence, the life of my faith, for years. learning to live in this place of tension - particularly between joy and grief - has been my task more times that i can count. i live perpetually in a state of balancing on a tightrope. holding in my hands both grief and hope. sometimes i sway one way or the other, but somehow i manage to never lose a grip on either. this is the primary aspect of my character that has been developing during this time: the ability to hold these things together. i am coming to see that the ability to maintain this tension is what characterizes my involvement with my church as well as what characterizes the kind of therapist that i want to be. this is why i am exhausted. my hands are as full of grief and joy as my heart is full of the Spirit. not only am i holding both of these things, but i am feeling both of these things...tremendously and intensely. i am allowing myself to feel the fullness of the grief that i carry. grief for things that are changing, for relationships that have been lost, for letting go of future expectations, for things beyond my control, for the brokenness that plagues each of us. and i am allowing myself to feel the fullness of the joy that i carry. joy for the places that i see hope in the midst of this grief, for the new and deepening friendships that i am building, for the way i see God forming the hearts and lives of those around me, and for the things that i am proud to be a part of. and while i am exhausted, i can't help but also desire to push further. to continue to ruminate on these things, to continue to reflect on what God is teaching me, to continue to engage my mind in the topics that i love, to continue to enjoy the deep and encouraging relationships that God has built up around me, to continue to grieve and hope. This is what God is doing in me.

three years

today marks the third anniversary of the major earthquake that occurred near Port-au-Prince, Haiti on January 12, 2010. it was a day that had millions of people turning their heads toward the television as a people and place was changed. and already devastated country experienced new pain. but rather than tell the Haitians' story (they have a voice to do that themselves), i want to tell mine. i was there when the earthquake hit, and i felt the ground move. in the days following, i had an almost visceral reaction. i could feel tethers forming that bound my heart to the country and the people. on the 62 hour journey home i was blessed by every person i encountered, from the Haitians who protected us on the road, to the couple that housed us for the night, to the people of Turks and Caicos who fed and refreshed those who made their island a stop on their journey, to the church families in florida who cared for us stateside. but more than the experience i had during that week, Haiti has become a part of my soul. i have returned three times since, developed friendships (as much as one can given the distance and language barrier), and devoted much of my thought, time and energy in the last three years into caring for the people i know there the only ways i can think to from home. that week marked the beginning of a new trajectory in my life, or at least i was surprised by it. as a direct result of feeling the ground shake that day, i left the small career i was developing, went back to school, and began working toward a different life for myself. i am a different and better person for having set foot on Haitian soil, joining hands with Haitian people, and singing songs in Kreyol. and i will never let go.   but this is the first year that i have no plans to return. and so while i sit here and remember the blessed friends i have in Haiti, i also mourn that i will be watching a team experience Haiti from here as i continue graduate school, walking the very steps that i owe to the people who spoke life and truth into my very being. and i don't know how to do it. today, my prayers and my heart are in Haiti.  

Continuing the "young adult" topic

So after the series of blog posts that I wrote at the beginning of the month and the response that I got from them, I have been wanting to write some follow-up. The posts I wrote are pretty one-sided. I talk a lot about the "demographic" of "young adults" and what the church could do better. I want to turn my attention now to my peers. Dear friends - who attend UPC, another congregation, or several congregations... We are not without blame in the situation at hand. In many ways we sequester ourselves and expect people to cater to our needs. This needs to stop. For as many people that I have seen commit to a congregation and a group and pour into it, I have also seen numerous people bail when a need is not met, jump from church to church because of "awesome worship" or "good preaching". This is not biblical and it needs to stop. I understand there are times when God is releasing us from a congregation, but those times should be few and far between. First and foremost, a church congregation is a family mutually participating in worship of God and in God's mission in the world - together. This doesn't happen as well when people are coming and going. Part of being in a family is being there through thick and thin, through peaks and valleys. Church is not about you, it is about God. Worship is not about whether we sing hymns or listen to a guitar, it is about God. So, friends who happen to be young adults, in whatever place you worship, put down roots. Stick it out. Choose a community and love them whole-heartedly, regardless of whether all of your needs are being met. Because your needs are not the point of walking through those doors on Sunday. If you go to UPC, pick a new worship time and commit to it. Commit to being a part of making it a moment in time that brings people into communion with God and with each other. Join a launch team. It will only be as much as you make of it. If you want more fellowship with other young adults, don't just sit there...talk to people. Invite people out after the service. There are opportunities to get involved too, but no one is going to build your community for you. For those of you who are committed, I want to encourage you. I know it sometimes feels like fighting an uphill battle to get your voice heard. I know we are battling stereotypes and assumptions that run deep. Take heart, you are not alone, and your work is important. Come to UPC on Sundays leading up to Advent. George just started a series on worship, and I can guarantee at the very least it will be thought provoking, but my hope is it will be paradigm-shifting. I happen to be studying worship in one of my classes in seminary right now, so there's a good chance I'll be sharing some reflections throughout this sermon series as well, so check back in or subscribe for updates. Peace and hope, Carly