Fathomless Mystery

Sometimes It Sucks Being Single

2006-09-25T20:27:00.000-05:00

I am old enough to know that the grass is always greener. I can appreciate when people say, "Enjoy this time in your life, you'll never have this much freedom again." I can dig that, I really, really can. And, for the most part, I enjoy life as a person who happens to be single. But tonight was one of those times when I thought how nice, how comforting, how convenient it would be to have a parter with whom to share life. With whom to share random moments of weirdness. My sweet buddy, Sullivan, wanted to go out. I let him out and after a few minutes, I heard whining at the door, presumably because he wanted re-entrance. I opened the door and looked down and saw a squirrel. A freshly killed cute little critter. Sully looked at me as if to say, "Look what I did! Aren't you proud?" My first thought was, "Yes, I'm a strong woman and can do anything I set my mind to, but can't someone else do THIS for me?" The squirrel is not buried, but will be tomorrow morning. May he rest in peace after his battle with my sweet canine who meant no harm, I'm sure.

Too Soon

2006-08-16T15:41:00.000-05:00

I'm about to go to Lansing, Michigan for my first cousin's funeral. He was 49 years old, and had devoted much of his life to assembly line work at GM. He had a sad first marriage, but two beautiful daughters were the serendipitous blessing from that otherwise chaotic union. He loved his girls. He then met the love of his life and had 5 good years with her.....until last Saturday. He was scuba diving, enjoying life, when he could no longer breathe. The autopsy showed he was a heart attack waiting to happen; blockages too many to count. He rode his motorcyle to Macinaw Island where he met his brother and his nephews to spend a Saturday afternoon out in nature. This is my mother's favorite nephew and everyone knows it; she named one of her sons after him (Danny). I'm headed to the funeral, not because I was particularly close to him, but because my mom loved him and he loved my mom. I loved him, too, because of his sweet spirit and willingness to shed tears over the simplest things. We all loved him. You can wonder and say it's not fair, but like my brother Greg said, "It's not about being fair." This really had nothing to do with fairness. But I keep coming back to this question, "Why THOSE two girls to not have a father?" I don't understand. It was just too soon.

A Quote

2006-07-30T19:51:00.000-05:00

I am reading one of my favorite Southern authors, Anne Rivers Siddons. This was the first paragraph of chapter five: "People who live beside moving water have been given the gift of living light, and even if they never come to recognize it as such, any other light, no matter how clear or brilliant, is pale and static to them, leaving them with a sense of loss, of vulnerability, as if they have suddenly found themselves without clothes. 'I have to be near the water,' they will say. 'I can't live away from the ocean'...or the river or the creek, or whatever water throws back to them the sun, or the boiling storm clouds, or the pearl of moving fog, or the wash of sunset. But what most of them are really saying, without knowing it, is, 'I can't live without that light that dances with me. I wear it like a living skin. Without it I am incomplete." Amen and amen.

Reinvention

2006-07-23T21:23:00.000-05:00

Well. Here I am. Summer camps are over, Family Ministry Week is done and I finally feel like I will get my life back. I have felt at best frazzled since mid-May. I think I'm at a crossroads. Although work is difficult, so much is up to me. Getting plugged in (or at least attempting to) and using the resources available to me. Here is my plan: 1- read more classics 2- start therapy (first session is this Tuesday) 3- participate in a clergy group (starts in September) 4- join the Columbia outdoor club (haven't done it yet) 5- have two families over to my house for dinner per month (haven't started this yet) 6- learn how to change a tire (something makes me feel more powerful if I know how to do this 7- meet my brother in Vegas (wegas) 8- write more 9- dance more (seriously) 10- yoga. So there it is.

What is Saving You?

2006-07-09T20:10:00.000-05:00

This is a question posed in Barbara Brown Taylor's new Book Leaving Church. Any thoughts on this?

Something that Makes Me Smile

2006-07-01T09:05:00.000-05:00

Okay, so most of you know I love my dog. But this picture makes me really smile. I thought I was the only one who noticed how disproportional his tongue is to the rest of his body. Agreed?

Buechner Food for the Day

2006-06-30T15:38:00.000-05:00

Two posts in one day??

I wanted to share this. This has meant a lot to me today. A Buechner a day keeps the blues away!

Mystery

There are mysteries you can solve by taking thought. For instance, a murder mystery whose mysteriousness must be dispelled in order for the truth to be known.
There are other mysteries that do not conceal a truth to think your way to, but whose truth is itself the mystery. The mystery of your self, for example. The more you try to fathom it, the more fathomless it is revealed to be. No matter how much of your self you are able to objectify and examine, the quintessential, living part of your self will always elude you, that is, the part that is conducting the examination. Thus you do not solve the mystery, you live the mystery. And you do that not by fully knowing yourself, but by fully being yourself.
To say that God is a mystery is to say that you can never nail him down. Even on Christ the nails proved ultimately ineffective.

--Frederick Buechner

Groping in the Dark, but Headed to the Beach

2006-06-30T15:25:00.000-05:00

Once again, it's been a long time. I'm settling in to Columbia life, as hot as it is. Good thing Waco prepared me for such hellacious temperatures.

Nothing has prepared me for the all-encompassing work called 'ministry.' I have been swallowed up before by my job. Working with foster kids was no walk in the park. But it seems like ministry gets into all parts of you, where nothing remains sacred, nothing is 'yours.' I try to construct boundaries, not walls, and it seems like there is no in between time to even have that distinction. Such is the life of a new minister.

My friend used this analogy yesterday when talking about doing the work of grief. She said that there was a time in her life when she felt as though she were walking around a dark house that she had never been in, feeling her way around for the corners and doors, with no sense of what was coming next. What a great description.

Here I am. Loving the simple fact that I am alive, but groping in the dark for some sort of familiarity. I do love my life, but it isn't what I thought it would be. But whose is? Someone has taught me recently how to take one day at a time, treasuring what it brings to you and how can listen to what it has to teach.

I'm trying my best. But honestly, I feel at this point I could learn best by sitting at the beach. Maybe I'll do that. In three days.....and counting.

The Church

2006-06-07T10:31:00.000-05:00

Last week I traveled 700 miles in a mini-van with three young women and one young man. They are the youth group here at the church minus a few. I really did not have any expectations. It's a strategy of mine; to consciously decide that anything could or could not happen.

The result: a week of fatigue, hard work and lots of junk food. The group could have royally gotten on each others nerves, especially with the age and gender configuration. But.....they showed such grace and patience with one another it amazed me.

This group connected. They not only tolerated each other, but as we dug into clams and crab legs on the patio of a touristy Charleston restaurant, each of them told one another what made them special. I heard things like, "You are so patient." "You are soooo funny!" "You go with the flow." These words poured from their mouths unforced and with little thought. I blushed as I sat with these youth, one about to be launched out into the world of college, another not even a teenager.

After reflecting a few days, I have wondered if what I experienced last week was a dose of hope about what the church could and should be like. A group of people, singing, laughing and moving outward into the world to serve together.

Thanks, KBC youth. You taught me. You gave me hope. You reminded me of church. And, oh, did you make me laugh.

Preaching and Lent

2006-03-24T12:09:00.000-06:00

In one short week, I will be preaching for the first time in front of my new congregation. In the Baptist world, I have been afforded many opportunities to preach, for a woman that is. I am not unfamiliar with the pulpit, but I am nervous about the first sermon at my first church.

The Sunday I preach (April 2) is the last Sunday before Palm Sunday. We are a liturgical church, one that follows the church calendar, and if you know anything about that, you know that we have been confessing sin and miring around in our grossness for the past 3 and a half weeks. In fact, my first day as a vocational minister was on Ash Wednesday. The message Kevin preached was AMAZING (you can listen on our website) and the point was clear: I serve people who are confessing sinners. I am a confessing sinner. We're especially confessing sinners during this season.

What this has meant for me personally, as a vocational minister during Lent is that I'm squirming around in my sin and wanting badly for the unbelievable act of Easter to arrive. BUT, if I learned anything from Calvary Baptist Church (and, boy, have I learned....the list would be endless) it is this: "Do not rush to the cross. Bear the heaviness of the sin now so that the 'greatest story ever told' will be what it was meant to be...a true deliverance from our fallenness." So, I'm feeling it. I did not give up anything for Lent per se, but I have given up the jump to the cross.

I guess you could say preaching and praying sin to your brand new congregation for three weeks straight is not a good way to start. I feel like a downer. A party pooper. Fortunately, I am not called to help people 'feel good.' I am called to remind them of reality. And that reality, for me, is that I sin, I have sinned, and I will sin. And more importantly, that God has been here, is here, and will come again.

Amen.

The Answer is 'No'

2006-03-20T21:17:00.000-06:00

Thanks to two of my closest friends, the answer is no. No, I do not need any more friends. If they keep coming to see me like they have planned, I won't even need to leave the house to meet anyone new!

But, I am going to take tennis lessons. Alas, something to get me out of the house!

Thanks, friends, for not pressuring me to have more friends.

Should I have more friends?

2006-03-10T20:39:00.000-06:00

I've been living in Columbia now for two weeks and already several people have asked, "Do you have a lot of friends?" I think, "What do you mean do I have 'lots' of friends?" If you haven't forgotten, my bar has been set VERY high in the friend category. Three of my best friends andI meet together every MLK weekend. We share so much and those friendships are almost 13 years old. Roommates and classmates came after that and those arealmost 5 years old. GIVE ME A BREAK. I'm not ready to rush into the work of having more friends. Plus, I have some excuses for not having friends here. One: I have only been here 2 weeks and part of that time I have been away at a conference. Two: I have DVR which means I've been distracted by lots of TV. In fact, I have watched "The Bachelor" and "American Idol" for the first time. Three: I work in a church. As I have already discovered, church work is not a 40 hour a week job. The next two Saturdays will include church related activities thus cutting into my social (TV) time. My primary social interactions are within the walls of the church. This is not unusual for me, but now it is now my place of employment. Hmmmm....an interesting thing to blog about I think. Anyway, right now, it's Sullivan and me. And, really, for right now, that is fine.

Twins in the OC

2006-02-16T23:00:00.000-06:00

I am overlooking the Pacific Ocean and listening to Fisher Price's rendition of classical baby lullibies. My twin nephews are sleeping soundly (for now) in their nursery and I have spent the day marveling that if it weren't for modern day technology their existence would have not been likely. They have very different personalities (one aggressive and driven, the other thought-ful and sweet), but one major thing in common: parents who were dedicated to doing whatever it took to get them here. It really is a miracle, even though the word seems so trite. So all of this has given me an idea: writing a children's book on in vitro fertilization. Why not? There are hundreds (thousands) of books about adoption and how to explain it to a child. What about a book that explains the effort, perseverance, and hope that accompanies that road to conception? Just thought it was a good idea.

Making Peace with the World Inside of Me

2006-01-23T13:49:00.000-06:00

So, I'm trying to get back into the blogging world. Most of my friends do it, so why shouldn't I? Kidding, but I am at a point where, selfishly, to keep up with friends, I want to get back into this. Plus, writing has always been therapeutic for me and I have avoided doing it since around January of 2003.

My life is Transition. Capital T. I'm waiting to move, to start my new job, etc. Right now I'm living with the parental units in Charleston. It has been a good time for us; for them to get to know the newest member of my one (now two) member family. Sullivan Oscar has adjusted well to the big back yard, full of birds and other wildlife indigenous to the beautiful lowcountry. He is in heaven.

Meanwhile, his "mistress" (as my mother calls me) has not been focusing enough on the beautiful creation Ellis Creek has to offer. I have been reading voraciously and enjoying every minute of it (see booklist at end). I've also been trying to "prepare" for my new job. I"ll be an associate pastor at a church in Columbia. I'm mega-excited about this, but it's the kind of excitement where your stomach hurts at the same time. Excited fear. Will they like me? (not all, of course) What if I've missed my calling? (all paths leading to this place say 'no') How do I step into ministry skin when I look and sound so young? (you just do it: it's a calling and a mystery) ETC.

Part of my inner rumblings (ramblings?) has brought me to a strange place. Those of you who know me, know that I have a very active dream life. Since I've been in Transitionland, I have had several (enough to cause concern) dreams in which I am ANGRY. The last one involved the pastor at the church where I grew up. I was YELLING at him about theology. The content of what I was saying was good....orthodox....Let's just say the presentation was a bit....sloppy. He was calm, I was bitter and angry.

I processed, which means talked with some folks about it, and realized I am a very angry woman. In the movie "Crash" Sandra Bullock's character says, "I wake up every morning angry and I don't know why...." I was frightened when I understood and related to her. This scares me because she epitomizes who I DO NOT WANT TO BE. But I am mad. I am mad at folks who don't think I should be a minister because of my gender, I turn red in the face at people who relish and seemingly want other people to go to hell, I am frustrated with people who are more concerned with what TV shows desecrate Christianity's name but don't care that millions of people are starving, I am pissed at people who think Iraquis and Africans are not people. On a personal level, I am angry at people who are critical of well meaning people, I am mad and sad when people I love don't love me back, I am ticked when I have to repeat things 3 times when my mom can't hear them, and I am angry that I'm in debt because of my greed. I am mad that I'm so gross.

In true LeAnn form, I have written a letter to one of the aformentioned people. Asking forgiveness for my anger. I don't know if I'll give it to him. I hope I do because I think that's the best thing to do, no, the right thing to do. As I wrote in the letter, "If I believe and will preach in a gospel that requires vulnerability risk and not a little foolishness, I must be risky, vulnerable and foolish in writing and giving you this letter." The thing about the letter is he does not care if I'm angry, about receiving a letter, or about me, thus making it a bona fide foolish action. Or does it?

Maybe I'm re-entering the blogging world for a bit of accountability. Ask me in a month if I've mailed the letter.

-mlg

Good Books:
1-The Girls Guide to Hunting and Fishing
2-Wicked
3-My Sister's Keeper
4-What Eve Didn't Tell Us
5-The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime
6-Girl Meets God

Books I Can't Wait to Read:
1-DaVinci Code (b/c my favorite actress (besides Gwyneth) is in the movie...Audrey Tautou)..and I have a strict 'must read before watch' policy
2-A Million Little Pieces
3-anything by Gail Godwin (AWESOME writer)
4-God's Politics
5-Christ the Lord out of Egypt

Catching Up

2005-05-09T21:33:00.000-05:00

Well, I really wanted to wait until my 6th month anniversary of non-blogging, but I couldn't stand it. Had to write.

My brother gets on to me all the time about not keeping up with this. He insists the reason I don't want to sprint home to get back onto a computer (the very thing which I had just left at work) is because I don't have a Mac. I think it is because I lack the very thing I need in my life: discipline. Plus, I always feel as though I grind the same axe (ax?) every day. Also, unlike some of my friends, I do not have a fancy blog, with pictures and those cool highlighted links. All that aside, I do have intentions to start doing this again. So where does one start after half of year gone by? In true LeAnn list fashion, I'll give you some highlights.

*Boundaries: good, people pleaser: bad.
*Sometimes the voice says "stay" instead of "go"
*One must avoid shunning a broken heart
*The Kite Runner: one of the best books I've ever read
*Even the extrovert must sometimes be an introvert (even for an entire season!)
*Yoga is amazing
*At the end of a long day, you must come home to those who KNOW you (and know that what you DO is an aside)

Pretty lame, but hey, I'm getting back out there. Trying to rediscover the art of connecting, at least to my brother and a few other loyal friends who feel sorry for me when no comments are posted.

Thanks for listening. Maybe next time I'll have some ideas.

mlg

Potent Joy

2004-11-19T22:53:00.000-06:00

A few weeks ago, a few of us completed a half marathon. It was as all other races have been; a mixture of "why in the hell do I do this?" and "I'm sooooo GLAD I do this!" Everyone finished, got their free snacks after and rode home with that wonderful feeling of sore and tired muscles coupled with a great sense of accomplishment.

At the start of it, I had cramps. In the middle of it, there was a deafening silence of stomping feet and asthmatic breathing. Toward the end, my illiotibial band ceased in its begging me to stop and became numb.

After I crossed the line, there was a sense of true and unadulterated accomplishment. It was the purest minute I've had in a long time. That feeling of deep, earned, and serendipitous joy. That was precisely the moment, more than any other, when the race took on its metaphorical meaning (of course there's a metaphor). This is the stuff of life.

The need for stretching, for preparing and self care so that none of the muscles will be torn into pieces. The walking through the hydration stations so you don't choke on what is trying to nurture you. The intense need for friends to accompany us through the journey.

Really, the cycle of pain and joy, and sometimes both mixed together--these are the things of my life.

I've always loved to sweat. I'm strange that way. It is so natural and earthy and proves through my senses that I'm working hard (or living in Texas). In this particular instance it was the former. Often my sweat reminds me of my tears. Is that so strange?

Perhaps it's the hard work and the pain that motivates me to keep training. All I know is that it's worth it. Even if the joy is only potent for a minute, the remnants are bound to last a lifetime.

A Pair of Blessings

2004-10-29T22:10:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the world, Benjamin Martel and Wesley Charles!

My twin nephews were born around 6 PM CST yesterday weighing in at 3 lbs 12 oz and 4 lbs 14 oz respectively. Mom and babies are doing fine and are thrilled to have this part of the journey over!

Just wanted to let everyone know. Ellie and Greg have been wanting babies for so long. They're here!

An Update

2004-10-26T20:53:00.000-05:00

Well, what can your post contain when you haven't written in over 3 months? I have wanted to, but always feel as though I'm saying the same things over and over. Maybe I should just get over that fear and write anyway. Maybe that's just what I'll do.....

First of all, I need to inform you all that my sister-in-law, Ellie, has been in the hospital for over 60 days now. My brother has been staying there and working from the hospital room. She has reached 34 weeks and the doctors really want the babies to make it to 37 before they enter this crazy world. We're all very excited and eager for ALL the Gardners to be at home and settled....or as settled as anyone can be with TWINS. The boys' names are still a mystery, but Greg has always said he thinks appropriate names would be "Shock" and "Awe."

The job continues to stretch and challenge me. Sometimes I feel like my brain is growing. I do feel like I've come to a sort of turning point; like I have started to gain some tools for the toolbox. Now, when a crisis happens, I don't automatically get thrown into a panic. I'm starting to reach for the tools I've acquired over the past few months AND THEN the panic comes. Really, I feel more confident in my abilities while recognizing how much there is to learn and know.

In the midst of what I would hesitantly call 'job satisfaction', I am contemplating moving back to the Southeast. I knew when I started this job last February that I would eventually end up closer to my family and roots. The seed has 'officially' been planted and now I'm in prayer and thought as to when the timing is best for the move. Waco has become home, and really my first home as an independent adult. There is so much to that and I want the timing to be right. Leaving a community is no small thing; and rebuilding isn't either. The thought of it makes me tired and excited all at the same time.

On a fun note, I have officially created a line item in my budget for concerts. Leigh, Katie and I went to David Wilcox last Friday night and Indigo Girls last night. I had forgotten how deeply good music feeds my soul.

I hope everyone is doing well. Three months is way too long!

Godspeed, everyone!

Moving.....again

2004-07-26T19:47:00.000-05:00

So, it's been a month. Every time I want to write, it's about my job. For some reason, I resist that. I don't want it to seem like I AM my job and/or I find 95% of my identity in it. However, it is what I do 8 hours a day and what I think about the other 16 (well, almost). But I'm learning so much that I believe is worth sharing.

Take, for example, the other day. I drove down to Houston to pick up a 16 year old young woman. She has been "in the system" since she was 4 years old. This is the 13th or so place she has lived. Her therapist called me last week and said, "Move her. We don't want her. She starts riots and gets everyone in trouble. She's a leader with too much influence."

As her legal guardian (and her new caseworker whom she has never met), I go there to move her to another facility in another large city. We travel the distance together, worlds apart, but with music in common. I became very familiar with R&B that day. I asked her during the drive if she was nervous about the move. She said matter of factly, "No, I'm used to it."

Used to it. Used to someone you do not know calling you on a Tuesday to say you are moving on a Thursday. Who cares about the bonds you have formed and that you are leaving a person you have grown to call 'mom' (since, of course, you don't have one). Yet, she went without a struggle. I had the feeling that she has resolved herself to this life as her plight.

Ice cream makes me feel better. I thought it would help her. So I asked her if she wanted to stop at Dairy Queen. When we pulled into the small town between her old place and her new, she said, "Hey, I think I've lived here before." She couldn't quite remember. She has moved that much.

We arrive at her new home with her stuff in tow. She sent 3/4 of it back with me because she is only allowed a certain amount. Her 'mom' from the last place had given her some earrings that she showed me the first five minutes we were together. She loved those earrings. She had to turn them over. All of her jewelry went into an envelope with her name on it and now it sits in my desk. Her stuff is in boxes in my office and will soon go to the basement where her last set of boxes reside. She will probably never see them again.

It wasn't the move that in the end made her angry. It was that she had to give up her jewelry. The last place allowed her that bit of identity. This place stripped her, once again. Granted, she has made choices to get here, but what about the mother who made the choice to do drugs instead of protect her own flesh and blood?

After I moved her in, I left and got into rush hour traffic. I had an errand to run for a co-worker and got lost. My day was 15 hours long and I was dog tired. When I woke up the next day, however, I realized that I was familiar with my surroundings. I knew the feel of my high count sheets, I recognized the 26 year old seal with which I sleep, I remember how you only turn on a little of the cold water in the shower. Most of all, I know the faces with whom I live and I know they love me. I also know that I have blood family 1000 miles away who would die for me.

My new friend knows none of that. All she is sure of is that there will be another move. And another. She knows a system that works on behavior and if you're GOOD enough, you can get those earrings back.

These are the days that make me long for the Advent. Why, Jesus, do you tarry?

Paradox

2004-06-29T20:50:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I think I have whiplash. At one moment, I am rejoicing in the blessing and purpose of my life, and then without notice I grieve the world and heartbreak around me. I hear of twins conceived by a 14 year old and watch her struggle through the adoption process. Then I hear about Greg and Ellie who want nothing more than to have middle of the night feedings and dirty diapers.

My heart is broken, my heart is full.

I am in awe of my blessings, then I walk away, hanging my head in confusion as to why I'm the one blessed.

After a while, I start to wonder which thing is real. Can they exist at the same time and how can I honor them equally?

Kahlil Gibran, as well as the writer of Ecclesiastes, share the sentiment. For Gibran, the pain and joy come from the same place. He even says that the deeper your pain, the more joy you can contain.

So I keep peeking behind me to see what will nip at my heels next. And maybe, just maybe the pain and joy will one day be one big blur and all I'll see is life, full of richness and authenticity.

That's my prayer anyway.

Vienna

2004-06-02T10:22:00.000-05:00

I hope this is legal. I want to share some lyrics that have spoken to me in a serious way the last month. My alarm clock is set to play this song at 6AM every morning. The line "You can't be everything you want to be before your time" particularly shouts to my hurry-to-maturity self. I'm at home sick today, so maybe the song is working it's magic! By the way, it's by Billy Joel and I first heard it in the movie "Thirteen going on Thirty." Never underestimate the power of a teeny bopper movie. Sorry, Jon, it's nothing like the Indigo Girls, but we need to be open to other artists from time to time! Ha!

"Vienna"

Slow down you crazy child
You're so ambitious for a juvenile
But then if you're so smart
Then tell me why are you still so afraid

Where's the fire
What's the hurry about
You better cool it off before you burn it out
You've got so much to do
And only so many hours in the day

But you know when the truth is told
YOu can get what you want or you can just get old
Your gonna kick off before you even get half way through
When will you realize, Vienna waits for you

Slow down, you're doin' fine
You can't be everything you want to be before your time
Althought it's so romantic on the borderline tonight

Too bad but it's the life you lead
You're so ahead of yourself you forgot what you need
Though you can see when you're wrong
YOu can't always see when you're right

You got your patch on, you got your pride
But don't you know only fools are satisfied
Dream on, but don't imagine they'll all come true
When will your realize, Vienna waits for you

Slow down you crazy child
And take the phone off the hook and disappear for awhile
It's alright, you can afford to lose a day or two
When will you realize, Vienna waits for you

And you know that when the truth is told that you can get what you want or you can just get old
You're gonna kick off before you even get half-way through
When will you realize, Vienna waits for you

Winning the Lottery

2004-05-25T18:52:00.000-05:00

Today is my 29th birthday. I've spent some time reflecting on past celebrations of this fun day. My childhood parties were all in the backyard of Dills Bluff Road, complete with cookouts and plenty of water skiing and skurfing, when that became the cool water activity. The greatest part about it all were the great people who came, many of whom I still keep in contact.

College was no different, sans the backyard. My college friends (SLAM) did the birthday thing RIGHT. They learned quickly that LeAnn's birthday closely resembles a Polish wedding, thus we all began observing the holiday on May 1. The good fortune of wonderful friends followed me to Birmingham.

From college on, the birthdays have become less Polish and more focused on the day itself. Ha. Really, sometimes I have to pinch myself and wonder, "Does everyone have friends this great?"

Take today, for instance. At 7:45AM, three friends were waiting for me at work, balloons and coffee cake in tow. One of them decorated my door, and while she was doing that, a co-worker/friend walked in with a cupcake arrangement that closely resembled a caterpillar. Yummy, I promise.

One of the things I've liked most about this birthday is proof of the influence Frederick Buechner has had on my life. The day was full (and I mean full) of "normal every day" activities of a CPS worker. At the same time, it was seasoned with well-wishes and special sercies given to me by some of the most important people in my life. Freddy B. insists that miracles come in the "clack-clack" of life. So it is.

On my birthday, I was able to testify AGAINST a woman who gave her 14 month old Vicadin to get her boyfriend back from Iraq. After that, I testified FOR a recovering Methamphetamine addict to be able to see her kids more often. After court, I traveled to a nearby city to observe a visit between a man who has molested the four daughters he has brought into the world.

Now, I am back in my comfort zone, in a house full of the people I love the most in this town. My cup overflows. My home base is my friends, my peeps. Without them (YOU), this day would not be worth celebrating. It is a celebration because of the people who surround me to make sense of this thing we call living.

Thank you. I love each of you. I have chosen the winning lottery ticket!

With Tears and Great Laughter....

2004-05-03T08:04:00.000-05:00

I have a passion for children. This passion has led me to the job I currently hold, but has taken me down other paths as well. One of them was working with adoption, which in turn gave me a heart for a population to which I had not given much thought....the infertile.

My internship last Spring taught me much about the struggles of the childless-- the loss of control, the frustration with people always shouting "WHEN ARE Y'ALL HAVING KIDS?", etc. Something that is taken for granted--reproduction-- is a daily struggle for those who often dish out thousands of dollars to try to make it happen.

Not only do I have a passion for children, I have a passion for good stories. My brother Greg and his wife Ellie have one of the best love stories I have ever heard (worthy of its own blog). After going separate ways for over 10 years, they reconnected and have one of the most amazing marriages I have ever seen. Sensing it was time to share their love to a little one, they tried getting pregnant. And after much frustration, we all began to lose hope.

I'm ashamed to say that I had stopped praying. I was mad at God for giving 14-year-olds babies and withholding a baby from Greg and Ellie who are, in all ways, ready for the challenge of child-rearing. Many tears have been shed.

Fortunately, God doesn't stop working and moving when I stop praying. Even though I had shoved my hope to the side and began praying instead for their hearts to heal and/or adoption to become an option, God had other things in mind.

Yesterday, I had to pull off the side of the road because I was crying so hard. Greg called me to tell me that they were pregnant, and not with one baby, but with TWO!

The story of Abraham and Sarah's laughing makes sense to me now. Just when it seems impossible, a miracle happens. Someone said to me this morning, "LeAnn, it's a miracle." Indeed it is.

So, keep growing, little ones, and may you always know how prayed for and wanted you were. May you never stop praying for the impossible and never be shocked when it happens!

Self-Awareness Gone Extreme

2004-04-09T15:19:00.000-05:00

In the field of social work, self-knowledge is not only expected, but demanded. How many times have I been advised to ask the following questions of myself: "How does this make me feel? What of my own prejudices and biases am I encountering when dealing with this client? What are my feelings and thoughts about this? What are my motives? Am I digging deep in my subconscious? What is going on with me, me, me???"

Whew. It gets exhausting. Annie Dillard has a word to say about this. She says, "I wonder if we do not waste most of our energy just by spending every waking minute saying hello to ourselves."

Don't get me wrong, self-awareness is a tool in becoming an effective social worker, and really, a healthy person. But c'mon, can't I just live sometimes? For one day, just one day, can I have an experience that does not enter and exit a filter? Can't I just be?

My roommates and I declare that we are three of the most self-aware females on the planet. Do we dare wonder why we have "Mr. Wonderful" the plush doll displayed on top of our TV? But again, the wondering is the problem....

There's no escape.

Frisbee Golf....explain it to me!

2004-03-29T16:46:00.000-06:00

They arrive early on Saturday morning. But not too early to have a beer. Their handy carrying cases even have an insulated pocket for their brewskies to nestle. Sweat-faced and serious, they pull their frisbee dollies choosing with care which disc will be their winner. Men (sometimes women) who are, in every day life distanced from one another because of vocation, politics, and socioeconomics, join together in unity for this underrecognized and misunderstood sport (?).

I don't understand it. Can anyone help? Why is this fun? Why is "frisbee golf" challenging in any way? Perhaps I'm being snobbish, and I guess they may be writing on their blogs about silly panting runners who jog by them with that smirk on their face. Go ahead, I can take it.

Help!

Dream Job List

2004-03-19T15:28:00.000-06:00

(In no particular order)

1. Teach a course in Family Dynamics

2. Educate and encourage churches to become involved in social ministries (or strengthen their existing involvement)

3. Write a devotional guide for churches based on #2

4. Work in a church implementing small groups based on building community and outreach

5. Lead a church in a spiritual formation/social issues study

6. Preach a sermon series on #'s 2 and 5

7. Conduct burnout prevention training for social workers and clergy

8. Teach a literature and Christianity course

9. Work in hospice (particularly AIDS hospice)

10. Be a foster parent (not really a job, but a dream of mine nonetheless)

11. Own a stationary/journal/coffee-tea shop called "This and That" where I conduct journal seminars and retreats

12. Conduct ethnographic research on the Gullah people, including learning their language, songs, stories, ETC.

It seems that every one of these things fall under one of the following categories:
1-organizing
2-teaching
3-writing
4-preaching

Hmmm.............

Going....

2004-03-11T16:16:00.000-06:00

Look at the color...note how many bruises there are and how dated...potty training is a vulnerable time for abuse...some abusive parents burn as punishment for not using the toilet...investigate what object the marks resemble on the child's body-- does it look like a belt buckle?...just so you'll know--adult bitemarks are 1.5" in length from canine to canine...sexual abusers often start the abuse with simple overtures that lead to sex...failure to thrive is a type of abuse where an infant receives little to no nutrients and much less nurture and stimulation...often babies with FTT look like little old people...the backs of their heads are caved in because they are never moved from their cribs...often they rock or hit their heads on their cribs to stimulate themselves...battered women leave their homes and flee to shelters on average 7-15 times during their cycle of abuse, before they're killed or leave for good, but still fear for their lives...methamphetamines give the user a high for about 20 hours while cocaine lasts about 3...it's also much cheaper and you can make it yourself in the privacy of your own home...look for rotten teeth and bumps on the arms...meth gives the user a "tingly" feeling which leads to the scratching.

This is a very brief synopsis of what I have been learning the last week. I sit at my desk overwhelmed--the thought of dealing with clients with multifaceted issues and how a naive person like me could make a ripple in the waters of this kind of brokenness leaves me feeling inadequate, to say the least.

My life's calling, at this point, has brought me into this place and to this training. Frederick Buechner says that calling is "where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet." But does the hunger have to be this ravenous?

For some reason, I have been blessed with a life absent of abuse. I have lived more joy in my years than most people would in three lifetimes. BUT, I am still human. I have flaws, addictions and brokenness of my own, even if my junk looks more refined than my clients'. It seems like the real danger in this job is going to be losing sight of the evil of EVERY human heart, even if my heart doesn't commit acts that call for the intervention of the court system.

There's a great sign hanging on the wall of a local Alcoholics Anonymous meeting place. It reads, "By the grace of God, go I."

And so it is. And so I go.

mlg

Remembering to Remember

2004-03-08T15:56:00.000-06:00

It is my favorite season of the church year. The paradox is perhaps what draws me in-- the grief, sorrow and sadness leading to the joy and realization of the lavish grace we have been given.

I've learned something this Lent. The problem is not that I break my Lenten fast or fail to do the things I want to do to draw me closer to God. The real problem is that I forget. Every now and then I do think about Christ's suffering and death, but it takes a conscious effort to remember. My prayer each morning this Lent has been "God, help me to remember." My days ramble on, full of ungratefulness and only occasional focused living.

As I offer up my prayer to remember, it dawns on me that Jesus knew our hearts way before we did. He knows our propensity for forgetfulness so he addressed it specifically.

"Do this in remembrance of me."
"When you eat the bread, remember my body broken for you."
"This wine is to help you remember the blood I shed for you."

Perhaps the connection to remembering and the essential act of eating was intentional, knowing that just as food sustains us, so does the remembering.

I keep praying to remember and the strength to realize that I do not live on bread alone, but by the very word of God.

mlg

I'm in.....

2004-02-16T11:27:00.000-06:00

I have never played poker. But for some reason, the game's terminology and language appeal to me. It reminds me of life's risks we either seize or refuse.

I had a dream about a week ago in which all of my language in the dialogue was poker language. I said things like, "I'm putting all of my cards in one stack" and "the stakes are too high" and "I'm not ready to fold." Sounds strange, but if you know me, you know my dreams are never normal.

What does this mean? How would Freud analyze this? One wise person once told me that you should focus on what you feel in a dream, and that often its contents are secondary. I have been haunted by this analysis because thinking about what my dreams/feelings mean often make me squirm. Am I ready to "risk something big for something good"? Sometimes yes, sometimes no. And, finally, what are the implications of risk? What will happen if I risk? What will happen if I don't?

All I know for sure is that risking is always scary. Always uncomfortable. Always exciting. I pray more often than not I'll be ready to play the game.

Alphabet Poop

2004-02-07T17:27:00.000-06:00

Like many other thoughts and ideas we entertain on a daily basis, credentials are somewhat of an illusion. For example, as of two days ago, I acquired a new letter that will now and henceforth follow my name: LMSW. Not only do I hold the "status" of having a master of social work, but I am now a LICENSED social worker. This means nothing for my job (pay, status, etc.) except that those who have peeped into the social work world will know I took a big test full of Freud and developmental psychology.

For my clients, however, the alphabet soup that runs its course after my name has absolutely no bearing on what they think of me, how they interact with me, etc. Yes, I have worked hard on my education. And, like it or not, there is a sort of entitlement mindset that goes along with that hard work, but the bottom line is other more significant things will win me their respect. The letters are just icing on the cake.

What I think about my clients will win the day. Not only that I respect them and honor them, but that I simply acknowledge that they are human beings. Even beyond that, that I affirm that although I have had the good fortune of receiving higher education, we are essentially all in the same boat together, and for some reason, at this juncture I happen to be a tour guide of sorts.

So on I go. Happy and excited about my credentials, even willing to display my diploma on my office wall. But when it all comes down to it, it's really just alphabet poop.

mlg

2004-02-04T07:57:00.000-06:00

February 4, 2004

Today is a special day. It is a celebration day. Three years ago, a few 3 hours from now, I ended a caustic relationship that would have altered my life forever if it had continued. Actually, the termination of it also changed my path in a significant way.

Because of the break-up, I am involved in a life-giving, grace-flowing church. I have more friends than I deserve, and am finding my path in the vocational world. NONE of these things would have happened if I had continued the way I was going. Okay, maybe in some way they would have, but I would have come out with unneccessary and damaging scars. At least my wounds now are of the learning-type and not the compromising type.

I'm not a fatalist, but something outside of myself intervened. Some particularly wise insight invaded my mind, body and spirit and screamed at me the wrongness of which I was a part. Luckily, I took heed and severed the relationship that was breaking my spirit. The Holy Spirit is real.

Of all the times to use theo-jargon, today is the day. Praise the Lord for an intervention that was beyond all of my own sensibilities and capabilities. I am free, and more importantly, I am becoming more of who I am supposed to be. Thanks be to God.

mlg