Ain't No Mountain High Enough

For the past several months I have been in a funk. It grabbed hold of me one day in September and I have been wrestling it ever since. (If you’re familiar with Steven Kellogg’s retelling of Paul Bunyan, I think the funk looks a bit like a gumberoo.) The funk has brought me to places of bitterness, anger, restlessness, and fatigue. In spiritual terms, we would call it a valley.

Because I’ve pictured myself in a valley these many months, I have been waiting to be restored to the mountaintop. The mountain is a place where everything is beautiful and happy. Spiritually speaking, it’s the place where you see God’s handprints on everything and you are aware of how good you have it.

Since the funk pounced on me so suddenly, I assumed it would be defeated with finality and I would emerge at the top of the mountain worn, but wiser. I would rest on the mountaintop, my lesson learned, my clarity restored.

Instead, I find myself somewhere between the valley and the mountaintop—perhaps on a spiritual piedmont? The resentment that characterized the funk has passed, and I am feeling more like myself again. I am starting to pursue people, and I am making weekend plans that involve more than Hulu and a pair of flannel pants.

But where are the answers? Where is the explanation for the battle I’ve been fighting since the fall? Where is the freedom to throw my head back and laugh at the days to come?

The piedmont gives me a view of the low place where I’ve been, as well as a look at the heights I wish to reach. The challenge is resting here. After all, most of our spiritual lives are spent somewhere between the high and the low.

Because I Knew You, I Have Been Changed for Good

I must give a shout to my friend Tracey who is making the world a better place through blogging. Tracey recently blogged about some success she had with an airline customer service representative. From this I learned that, in matters of customer service, it doesn't hurt to ask.

This afternoon I had reason to call the electric company to discuss my recent bill. My bill had been based on my electric usage from November 2008 because my meter has been malfunctioning. Ordinarily, this would be fair and square, but this year I was gone for a week in November and thus, not using as much electricity (unless Cosmo had friends over). I wondered if the electric company would adjust my bill to reflect my week's absence. Remembering Tracey's success, I called and was given a 10% deduction. There are those of you who will argue I should have fought for more, but life is too short to argue with customer service.

I was so encouraged by this phone call that I made another.

In 2007, my friends gave me a gift card for a custom Viv Pickle purse that I never used. (Sorry, ladies!) I pulled it out this week only to find it expired in May, 2009! (Really sorry, ladies!) Excited by my victory with the power people, I called Viv Pickle in Philadelphia. I told the girl my sob story and, yadda yadda yadda, I'm getting a new purse for $7!

The Sweetest Taboo

Yesterday I got sucked into a Canadian TV series called Being Erica. Erica is a 32-year-old woman who has no job and no man. What she does have is a long list of regrets. Erica believes these past mistakes have caused her present disappointment. She meets an unusual therapist, Dr. Tom, who sends her back in time to do things differently.

One of Erica’s greatest regrets is the death of her brother, Leo. In the season finale, Dr. Tom allows Erica to go back to the day of her brother’s death with the stipulation that she will not do anything to change the outcome of the day. According to Dr. Tom, bringing people back from the dead is one thing his brand of therapy cannot do.

This got me thinking about other narratives that have the same prohibition about bringing people back from the dead. In Aladdin, when the genie is explaining the rules of Aladdin’s three wishes, one rule is that the genie can’t bring anyone back from the dead. I remember reading "The Monkey’s Paw" in middle school in which a couple wishes a dead son brought back to life with horrific consequences.

I can’t think of any story in which someone truly comes back from the dead. I used to watch All My Children with my mom and people came back from the dead (or a failed attempt at a Hollywood career) pretty often. We always found out they hadn’t been dead at all, just living in another town with amnesia.

Dead people coming back to life, at least in a way that isn’t terrifying, is a theme we just don’t see in movies and literature. And yet, the Christian faith rests on the premise that Jesus came back from the dead (and wasn’t scary).

In the Resurrection, God engineered the greatest happy ending ever recorded, but it is an ending that goes against all the rules of storytelling. For some of us, God's refusal to work within the scope of human imagination is a stumbling block. For others, it is a reason to believe.

All My Bags Are Packed, I'm Ready to Go

During my Christmas vacation I was able to spend a lot of time reading, writing, thinking, praying, and being quiet with the Lord. One of the images that came to me during this time was a picture of my life as a suitcase.

When packing for a trip, I tend to get the bulkier things in the bag first: shoes, pants, outerwear. Next come the shirts, reading material and toiletries. Finally, into the empty spaces I jam the small things like socks and underwear.

In the same way, my life has some bulky things that take up a lot of space. What comes to mind right away is my job. It’s sitting there in the suitcase, taking up a ton of emotional and temporal space. On top of it, I put things like maintaining my home, exercising, and keeping in touch with family and friends. Finally, into the small spaces left I jam ministry: a ball of mentoring there, a little youth leadership in one corner and a little more over in another. Into the outside pockets go ministry through music, Thursday night Bible study, and preparing to launch a church plant.

What I’ve got is a suitcase bursting at the seams. Carrying it around became so hard that I had to put it down and hide in my house for a few days this December. A lot of the authors I read that week strongly suggested leaving room in our lives for solitude, for time to be still and listen to God.

How do I make room for stillness in this suitcase? Buying a larger one is not an option. I considered starting nursing school and changing careers. Emily was kind (and metaphorical) enough to point out that this would not free up any room in the suitcase, it would simply be packing the same outfits in a different color.

I could start taking ministries out of the suitcase to free up some space. But what would go? I have made some decisions, but not easily. The ministries are my favorite part of my life and their effects will be able to travel into the next life. I am sad to become someone who has stuffed her passions into the outside pockets of her life.

Debbie pointed out that, on my journey, I will discover new things—lessons, passions, people. If the suitcase is already stuffed, where do the new things go?

The only solution to my packing dilemma is to find a way to combine things. LL Bean sells a line of travel clothing that consists of three or four pieces that can be turned into several outfits. What my life needs is coordinated separates—or maybe for the separates in my life to be coordinated. Ideally, I would like to earn a living doing some of the ministry I am passionate about.

This is not a new desire, but keeping it quiet is becoming more difficult. I share it with you, dear readers, for a few reasons. First, I believe in the power of saying things aloud. Once you share a goal, you have people keeping you accountable, praying for you, and helping you determine if and when the time is right to leap. Second, I share this as an explanation for “the crazy place” where I have been residing lately. Finally, I would love for you to dream with me and to help me sculpt this nebulous ambition to teach, to write, to mentor and to change the world into something I can articulate and into something I can do!

Baby, Remember My Name

At the end of every year, I clean the movie stubs out of my wallet. Usually, I am with my friends Judy and Heather and as I pull out each stub, I offer my reflections on each film. Since I am away from them this December, I offer my ticket stub review to all of you.

January 3rd—Rachel Getting Married
This was one of those movies you go to because a bunch of your friends are going, not because you’re dying to see it. What I remember is Anne Hathaway giving a good performance and Rachel’s wedding, in which a Jewish girl married an African-American guy in an Indian-themed backyard wedding.

January 20th—Bride Wars
Entertaining, instantly forgettable. Brain candy.

February 21st—Confessions of a Shopaholic
I love, love, love the Shopaholic books, so I was pretty excited to see the movie. As a movie, it was cute, sweet and fun. As an adaptation of the book, it failed. I prefer to think of it as a movie that happens to have the same name as a book I really like. One thing I can’t figure out is why they set the film in New York and made Isla Fisher fake an American accent. Why not stay true to the novel’s London setting?

June 19th—The Proposal
Super-fun. Can’t get the image of Oscar from The Office dancing around in a Speedo out of my head, but overall, liked this one a lot.

August 7th—Julie and Julia
Meryl Streep’s Julia Child was ebullient. It looked like she was having an amazing time portraying the famous chef. Stanley Tucci was darling as her husband. The Julie side of things was charming for the simple fact that Amy Adams was in it. A Google search of the real Julie Powell left me disappointed.

October 1st—Fame
How excited was I for this movie? I loved the show when I was growing up and I was anxious to see Megan Mullally and Bebe Neuwirth playing teachers at the performing arts high school.
How disappointed was I? The movie was a mile wide and an inch deep. Quickly passing through the characters’ four years, we never really got to know anyone. The pervasive, “You can’t trust adults, they will squash your dreams” theme wore thin mighty fast.
An interesting side note, my friend Katy and I were the only people in the theater. Katy actually answered her phone and had a conversation during the movie.

November 20th—The Twilight Saga: New Moon
Yes, I was there opening night. Even though the first movie makes me snicker and I’m completely over the tabloid Robsten frenzy, I still wanted to see this one. From what I can remember, it stayed pretty faithful to the book. Taylor Lautner spent a lot of time with his shirt off. Lucky guy will always have this movie as evidence of his amazing physical condition. When I found out he’s 16 (17 now?), I had a lot of repenting to do. Rob Pattinson’s agent must have negotiated for him to be shirtless as much as Taylor in the film. No wonder Team Jacob got so many new converts…

November/December?—The Blind Side
My ticket stub for this one has disappeared, so the date will remain a mystery. I don’t generally see feel-good movies, but an article I read about Leanne Tuhoy and her faith caught my interest. So I saw it, and so help me, it made me feel good.

December 12th—The Princess and the Frog
Fresh from my trip to Disney World, I was propelled to see this movie. I’m so glad I did! It was delightful. Tiana has earned her place in the pantheon of Disney princesses.

Look Around, Leaves are Brown, and the Sky is a Hazy Shade of Winter

The summer manifesto was really awesome. It kept me from frittering away my summer months and spending them in an idle, selfish wasteland. The fall manifesto, however, might have proven to be too ambitious. Working full-time, maintaining my home, and involvement with ministry pretty much guarantee that I won’t be frittering my time away.

That being said, here’s a review of my fail, I mean fall, manifesto…

Prepare more food at home, eat out less. Invite friends over for dinner instead of meeting in restaurants.

I fared miserably on this one. I can think of two occasions when I prepared a meal and had friends over to eat it. In contrast, I can’t count how many times I ate in a restaurant. On one occasion when I had a friend over for dinner, I found myself being so distracted by the requirements of serving a meal that I couldn’t engage her in conversation as I would like. As I tried to talk to her while cleaning dishes and dashing out the door for my next meeting, it occurred to me that there’s much to be said for the convenience of a restaurant.

Use the farmer’s market regularly.

Despite the convenience of the grocery store, I have purposefully driven to the farmer’s market on weekends to stock up on produce for the weekend. Laura introduced me to the curb market, which is smaller and more crowded than the outdoor farmer’s market, but I dug its downtown vibe.


Catch up with Debbie.

This was on the list to keep me accountable for getting together with this dear friend. We squeezed in a conversation right at the fall/winter wire; sandwiched in between holiday parties, swim practices and a Christmas concert.

Keep reading—do not let books pile up on nightstand.

I’ve done a lot of reading, but there is still a pile on the nightstand! This fall I was introduced to Anne Shirley as I read the first three books in the Anne of Green Gables series.
I put Anne on hold to reconnect with another beloved classic, Little Women, which we tackled in our fall book club meeting. Through Librivox, I was able to listen to the novel with different volunteers reading each chapter. From the Australian guy to the 10-pack-a-day English lady, the readers each put their own spin on Jo and the girls.
Recently, I picked up Twilight for a second reading. I’m hoping to remember what I liked about these books before Robert Pattinson’s constant media presence made me forget.

Attend a Gaelic Storm concert somewhere in North Carolina.

One happy Friday night, Beth, Laura and I headed to Winston for an evening of blarney and rumpus. It was great craic!

Be a light in my work place.

Most days, it takes all my strength not to be overcome by the darkness at my job, let alone to be a light for others. I try to avoid the gossip and the grumbling, which often means not leaving my room. My friend Tonya started a Bible study for our co-workers, which was awesome, but our workplace is a battlefield—guess I’d better go and get my armor.

Have conversations about women’s ministry.

I don’t know that I’ve had many deliberate conversations about women’s ministry, which is what I meant when writing this in August. I wanted to get a sense of what was important to and for women so that when the church plant opens its doors, I will be able to hit the ground running. Instead, my fall has been filled with doing ministry and talking about the church plant in bigger and broader terms. I’m trusting that, when the time comes, God will show me what to do for the women of this fledgling congregation.


Attend a Flyers game, completing a Philadelphia sports trifecta (Phillies on August 14, Eagles on September 13. Sadly, there is no Flyers game on October 12.)

The Flyers will be in Raleigh one week from tonight. Perhaps I will see them there. Before abandoning the subject of Philadelphia sports, I must express my delight with the Fightin’ Phils who gave me October baseball for another year. This crusty, cynical Philadelphia sports fan has learned to hope because of these guys. I can hardly wait for Spring Training…

We Can Drive It Home with One Headlight

Tonight I went to Auto Zone. They might as well call the place Man Zone. I knew as I walked out of my house that I would have to be assertive and confident. I also touched up my make-up—not that it made a difference after the torturous cardio class I did earlier in the day.

I stood in line and waited for an available employee. A man got in front of me, but aside from an indignant little huff, I didn’t protest. After all, his $4.30 purchase was probably easier than my need for a new headlight. Once he was gone, the employee walked away from his register. This time my indignant huff was louder, so he turned and said, “Can I help you?” I said, “Not if it’s too much trouble.” He told me I would have to wait for Brian to get my headlight fixed. Then, he grabbed his coat and said goodbye to the other men working, saying, “14 hours is long enough. I’m going home.” I felt really bad for speaking to him so rudely.

Not knowing who or where Brian was, I continued standing in line while another worker was helping a man buy a new battery. A few more customers began gathering in front of the counter. One asked me, “Are you next?” I replied, “I have no idea.” It turns out I was next and the man behind the counter happily sold me headlights and told me I’d have to wait for someone to help replace it, as long as it wasn’t too difficult a job.

So I returned to my car and waited. One employee was helping a man change his van’s battery. When he finished, he went inside, got a Coke and came out for a cigarette. When he saw me, he said, “I’m sorry, are you waiting?” Convicted about my earlier snarky remark, I said, “No worries, take your break. You’re really hustling.” Turns out this was the elusive Brian. He was willing to come check out my headlight, as long as I didn’t mind the cigarette. He fiddled around under the hood for a while, went into the store for a tool, fiddled some more, and then said, “You’re going to hate me.” I said, “I figured it would be too much for you to do. No worries.” He slammed the car’s hood closed and said, “Wait a minute. Let me rub your head.” And then, friends, he came over and rubbed both of his hands on my head! He said, “When I slammed the hood, it come back on.”

What else can I possibly say about my Auto Zone experience?

After my hair had been through the aforementioned cardio class and the Brian incident, I ran into my hair stylist at Macy’s.