Art Journal Fun

Fun with watercolors! I love how this turned out. I did a wash with the paint, and then before it was dry, I dropped rubbing alcohol over it with one of those infant medicine droppers. Yummy!

Show and Tell: Inner Excavation Wk 1

 I am really enjoying working through the prompts from Liz Lamoreux's book Inner Excavation.
 One of the first assignments was to  'set an intention' for what I wanted to focus on or learn from the next 7 weeks:

After that we could focus on whatever prompts or activities we felt connected to.
 One of my favorite exercises was to create a 'word toolbox' by grabbing a book off of the nearest shelf and making a list of words--then writing an "I am..." poem using the words we found. 

 I was blown away by how easy it was to capture what I wanted to say by using the list (I used a few books and a magazine)  I wasn't thinking about writing the poem when I was picking out random words--I was just writing down words I liked. So much fun!

Inner Excavation: Week 1

I'm participating in a 7-week read-along of a book called "Inner Excavation" by Liz Lamoreux. Liz is participating right along with the group. I've had the book for several months and I'm so excited to be working through it with a community of folks across the world.
 I'm talking 5:10 am excited! I was up way before my alarm, got my tea and jumped right in. SO. MUCH. FUN!

Everything is an Adventure

My mom tells me that when I was a kid she could come in my room when I was sound asleep and say "Shelley, wake up! Do you want to go __________ with me? (insert any destination--grocery shopping, the circus, the typewriter repair store...) and I would open my eyes and and sit right up no matter what time it was and say "Yes!" 

I'm sure I get my sense of adventure from her. We'd be driving somewhere and see a sign for a scenic overlook or an ad for an out of the way cafe/boutique and she would look at us in the back seat and say "Let's go!" I love that about her! And now I realize I do the same thing with Sadie. Yesterday we were trying out a new eatery (Granny Gert's in Rushford--for local friends it used to be Jack and Mary's...) and on the way back I thought I was going to the boat launch area of the lake, but realized that I had taken the wrong turn and ended up at the top of the hill with a great view of the valley. We could see the one-lane bridge in Caneadea and I pointed it out to Sades and said 'Let's Go!'

We stood in the middle of the bridge and looked down through the metal at the river below, and I felt almost as breathless as I did when we stood at top of the CN Tower and looked down at Toronto through the glass floor. Then we found a path that led down to the cement girders under the bridge and had fun looking up at a couple on bikes who had no idea we were there.

It really was an adventure!

Hooray for Sparkly Pens!

 Oh Amazon, I adore you. Especially since I live at LEAST 45 minutes from oh, just about EVERYTHING.

This is what I've been doing with sparkly pens lately: 

So many possibilities now--I was getting sick of neon orange.

The Worthiness of Trees

I was wandering around in the woods yesterday and thinking about trees.

Here is rambling, rantish excerpt from my journal:

"... I think trees are a-moral created by the Creator. Do trees see themselves as fallen or evil or drenched in sin? If they are eaten from the inside by an Asian Longhorn Beetle, do they need to repent for their rotting insides? Are the beetles 'bad' and the trees 'good?'

Did the trees ask to be created--did they have any say at all in their existence? "No thank you--I'd rather be an Oak. I can't stand all that sticky pine sap..." 


I believe we all come from one Source--created and sustained lovingly from that same Source. The energy of this Source never leaves us--it is in us; around us. It is the oxygen we breathe and the gravity keeps us connected to the earth. It is the wind that shakes the birch leaves when they greet me--waving madly--so happy to see me as I walk down the road.

Maybe Human Beings are worthy too. As created--just the way we are. Stamped from the inside with the image of the Great Creator. Do trees trace their 'fallen-ness' back to their sinful ancestral seed and believe that because it was 'bad', all of the trees that spring from that one will be 'bad' too?

Friends on the Journey

I started this blog looking for a safe place to figure out my faith. I was desperate and scared--and I felt all alone in my crisis of faith. Turns out, I am far from alone, and I have more peace with my life and faith now than I did a few months ago.  So much has happened internally with me--it would takes months and months and years and decades to describe the inward journey I have taken toward God this past winter. So instead I will list the books that have been good friends to me along the way (in no order whatsoever other than the way I piled them on my desk to see all of the titles):

1. Dear Heart, Come Home by Joyce Rupp
2. Evolving in Monkey Town by Rachel Held Evans
3. In Search of Belief by Sr. Joan Chittister
4. Losing God by Matt Rogers
5. Crazy for God by Frank Schaeffer
6. The Early Church by E. Glenn Hinson
7. Amazing Grace: A Vocabulary of Faith by Kathleen Norris
8. The Dance of the Dissident Daughter by Sue Monk Kidd
9. Loving What Is by Byron Katie
10. Everything Belongs by Fr. Richard Rohr
11. Full Catastrophe Living by Jon Kabat-Zinn
12. An Altar in the World by Barbara Brown Taylor
13. The Mosaic of Christian Belief by Roger E. Olson
14. Spontaneous Healing by Anddrew Weil, M.D.
15. Healing for Damaged Emotions by David A. Seamands

I'm also thankful for my real-life interactions with supportive friends. A turning point for me was meeting with my pastors a few months ago. Prior to that meeting, I found myself sitting in church week after week, and thinking 'What if I don't believe any of this--or if I'm buying some beliefs of Christianity but rejecting others? What if this journey takes me too far afield of 'Christian Orthodoxy?' Would there still be room for me here as I am? I'm exhausted from pretending that all is well with me week after week when it really isn't.' So I decided to lay it all out before the pastors--to be  honest with them about the depth and intensity of my crisis.

The thing is, I have been in a church community all of my life, and the thought of just quitting wasn't something I wanted to do. I love church. The place where I go every Sunday is so much more than a set of doctrines and beliefs that I have to a) Agree with at all costs  or b) Disagree with this or that, and therefore leave. The place where I go on Sunday is filled with people who love me and have supported me through the grief and awfulness of life. Regardless of my beliefs (or unbelief), this place is my community and my family--where I live and work and bring meals to friends who have babies and help a neighbor with grocery shopping when she is not up to going out and where we laugh and cry together. I guess I just needed to know that I wouldn't be cast out or burned at the stake as a heretic--I needed to know that there was room for me, too. And I was so afraid of the answer.

So I met with them and cried my eyes out and told the truth that has been eating away at me for so long--all the questions, doubts, uncertainties--about my anxiety about it all, and my loneliness. I needed to know that even though it SEEMS like everyone else is sure about this Christian life--surely I'm not the only one struggling? And can I still be a part of this church family even if my theology leans further to the left? And is this a place where I will be welcome as is for real, and not in words only?

And they heard me with compassion and acceptance and welcome and love. I am actually crying right now thinking about it as I type.  What I suspected was true: I am definitely NOT the only one in the congregation wrestling with intense faith questions. And I'm not the only one who has come into their office wondering if they are still welcome if their theology doesn't line up exactly with the tenants of the Wesleyan Church.

As we talked and met together a few more times, I felt the claustrophobic, frightened space that I had been occupying all winter open up. It felt so good to be authentic and honest--and to be accepted and understood. What I loved was that they didn't give me a list of Bible verses to look up (I probably already know them all, anyway) or tell me I needed to pray more or read more or do more stuff for God. What they did was give me space--space that I wasn't even giving to myself. Space to be confused and doubtful about the goodness of God. Space to grieve the loss of my sister, and what that meant for my faith--the whole question of why bad things happen to good people and where was God when the doctor made the mistake and she died? They gave me space to sit with the questions that have no answers on this earth, and to be a little more ok with this mystery called God.

I feel like I can breathe now, and where I am is exactly where I am supposed to be on this road.