Laurie and I have sent in our final edits for the book (at least I hope those are final edits). We hope that you will enjoy our book (you might be able to pre-order online right now). We hope you, and 44 million of your closest friends will buy our book.
We are excited and exhausted, but we wanted to share this good news with you! You made this possible. Thank you for reading and following the blog. Your support is appreciated and felt. Thank you, thank you, and God bless you all!
With love and respect,
Mary and Laurie
Friday, August 24, 2012
Monday, August 20, 2012
The Comfortable Words
If you should happen upon an Episcopal Church early on a Sunday morning, you are likely to experience the joy of an 8 AM Rite 1 Eucharist. Usually, the earlier service is quieter, because there is not music. The service also sounds funny with Olde English.
Right in the very middle of the service, after the Confession and Absolution is a hang over from 1547 Order of Worship called "The Comfortable Words." After the priest absolves the congregation, she says: "Hear the Word of God to all who truly turn to him..." After that point, she reads the different passages of Scripture provided on the page.
The first line is "Come unto me, all ye that travail and are heavy laden, and I will refresh you..." from Matthew's Gospel. Every time I hear those words, I hear such welcome and relief. I hear Jesus' welcoming me, inviting me to be with him, near him, in this place.
"Come unto me," Jesus says. I hear his invitation. I hear: "Come unto me, all you with broken hearts. Come unto me, you who are called freaks and geeks. Come unto me, you who just cannot get it together, you broken down, beaten down ones. Come unto me and I will give you peace. I will give you rest. I will take away those labels and lies and hurts, and I will heal you. Come unto me!"
Whenever I hear the words, I feel a little choked up because I do and have felt the burden. I have wondered: "Where is my place in this church? In this world? Do I even have a place?" I have felt broken and crushed under the weight of cruelty or expectations or circumstance. I have felt like I have been traveling a long time, only to discover that I have already arrived at my destination, not even realizing that I had been looking. Only when I hear the words do I realize just how much I want that peace. I realize how badly I want to be welcomed and invited too. I realize that I needed those comfortable words.
These are the Words of God. These are the words of the true church, where there is a place of refreshment and peace for everyone, without exception.
So, right now, I invite you to hear the Word of God to all who truly turn to him:
Come to me, you freaks and geeks, there is room for you! Come to me, you with broken hearts and lonely hearts and angry hearts, here is a place for you! Come to me, you who are labeled and hurt and lied about, here is refreshment and peace for you! I will heal you. I will refresh you. I will give you peace. I will love you, and you will know it!
Right in the very middle of the service, after the Confession and Absolution is a hang over from 1547 Order of Worship called "The Comfortable Words." After the priest absolves the congregation, she says: "Hear the Word of God to all who truly turn to him..." After that point, she reads the different passages of Scripture provided on the page.
The first line is "Come unto me, all ye that travail and are heavy laden, and I will refresh you..." from Matthew's Gospel. Every time I hear those words, I hear such welcome and relief. I hear Jesus' welcoming me, inviting me to be with him, near him, in this place.
"Come unto me," Jesus says. I hear his invitation. I hear: "Come unto me, all you with broken hearts. Come unto me, you who are called freaks and geeks. Come unto me, you who just cannot get it together, you broken down, beaten down ones. Come unto me and I will give you peace. I will give you rest. I will take away those labels and lies and hurts, and I will heal you. Come unto me!"
Whenever I hear the words, I feel a little choked up because I do and have felt the burden. I have wondered: "Where is my place in this church? In this world? Do I even have a place?" I have felt broken and crushed under the weight of cruelty or expectations or circumstance. I have felt like I have been traveling a long time, only to discover that I have already arrived at my destination, not even realizing that I had been looking. Only when I hear the words do I realize just how much I want that peace. I realize how badly I want to be welcomed and invited too. I realize that I needed those comfortable words.
These are the Words of God. These are the words of the true church, where there is a place of refreshment and peace for everyone, without exception.
So, right now, I invite you to hear the Word of God to all who truly turn to him:
Come to me, you freaks and geeks, there is room for you! Come to me, you with broken hearts and lonely hearts and angry hearts, here is a place for you! Come to me, you who are labeled and hurt and lied about, here is refreshment and peace for you! I will heal you. I will refresh you. I will give you peace. I will love you, and you will know it!
Monday, August 13, 2012
Beautiful Mess
This past weekend, I had the opportunity to meet two incredible women who shared their stories for a benefit for St. Agnes House. Heather (who blogs at extraordinary-ordinary) and Ellie (who blogs at One Crafty Mother) spoke about being beautiful messes.
I wish more people had heard their profound message this past weekend, but I know that those who did hear it were changed and affirmed by our sacred time together. I also know that hearing such truth is not for sissies. Through their honesty in sharing their life stories, they peeled back that tacky veneer of perfection that we all develop. As we live, we learn, unfortunately, that our imperfections, our failures, our wounds and scars are distasteful in proper society. So we paint over them, paper over them, and cover them with all sorts of tricks.
The mess always surfaces, and eventually some of us give in and decide to explore our messiness. Many don't, sadly. In the Church, I often hear what Mary and I call "Awesome-Offs" among clergy. Clergy gather to share how rich their church is, how many members it has, how their church is single-handedly saving the human race, and how, in the clergy's spare time, they are writing God's memoirs. Clergy themselves often paper over their wounds by piling on the external affirmations and validations. Don't get me wrong, we need the externals, but when they become the sole way we know we are worthy, trouble is just around the corner.
At one time in my life, I enjoyed and participated in the awesome-offs. I wanted to be awesome and wonderful. I wanted to be well-appointed and totally together with a nifty job title and the accouterments that went with it. I accumulated degrees and awards and lines on a resume and felt quite awesome. Until I realized I was not.
Until God reminded me, in the midst of huge amounts of grief and disappointment and pain, that I was quite a beautiful mess. Being honest about my messiness was initially hard, so very, very hard. A physics and calculus exam in Latin hard. Seeing the true reflection of yourself with your mess is painful. I wanted to go back, to be perfect and put-together again, but I couldn't. So I discovered slowly, carefully, and cautiously, with the help of close friends and an amazing therapist, slowly, my very own mess.
At first I didn't think it was beautiful. I was ashamed of it. Horrified by it, and I wanted it to go away. But as I kept discovering, I saw God shining through the cracks and breaks. At first in pinpricks of light, but then I saw holiness in the mud, and I heard prayers in the ashes. I touched my beautiful mess. I named it aloud. I picked it up in my hands and held it to my cheek. I saw it as God sees it, not shameful at all, but my tangible, earthy humanness that was raw material in beauty and ugliness, elegance and messiness.
I am far more impressed by those who stand before us and share their pain and messiness, who speak of their struggles in addiction recovery, who show us their scars, who tell us that on a good day, maybe - maybe - they manage to iron their outfit and eat four servings of vegetables and take dedicated time for prayer, but they also swear while they pray and cry in the middle of Target because, when they pass the birthday cards, they remember they totally forgot their nephew's birthday two weeks ago. Okay, I did this - this one is mine. Bo, I wish I could tell you I won't do this again, but your Aunt is a beautiful mess, so I probably will, but I will also always let you be your own beautiful mess. No. Matter. What.
So, how to own your beautiful messiness? Some ideas sparked from Heather and Ellie's sharing and our own experience:
Don't tell me how perfect you are, because I know you aren't. I'm not. None of us are. If the best you can do is be silent about your mess because you haven't yet seen the light of God shine through your brokenness, I'm good with that. But please don't lie to yourself or me or any of us with your stories of perfection. And I've participated in all the Awesome-Offs allotted to me in this lifetime. So when I roll my eyes and leave, you'll know why.
Don't tell me how perfect your church is, because I will wonder if it's a church. My church is place where the saint and sinner is welcomed equally, even, especially, in the same person. God loves the messes. Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, David, Mary Magdalene, Peter - all beautiful messes. God changed the world with them. Perfect people in church read the Gospel; messy people in church are the Gospel.
Don't tell me how my messiness is a sign of weakness. Be brave enough to listen to my story, without judgment, without advice, without diminishing me. Hold my hand if you feel very brave. Bring me chocolate. Be honest enough to run away if my beautiful mess scares you. Messy people have a bravery that takes my breath away. If you can't be breath-taken away, then don't suffocate me with your "perfection."
Do remember that loving our beautiful messes is a lifetime commitment that will never be easy. As Heather said so perfectly, "I wish I could learn the hard lessons in life without slamming into a wall at 100 mph." So do I, but perhaps slamming into a wall shatters the false perfection. Then and only then can God show us the colors and beauty of the pieces of our broken selves on the floor. And then and only then can God piece them into resurrection.
Do love me in my beautiful mess. And know that I am learning to love myself, my messy, sometimes disastrous, sometimes breathtaking self.
Do love your own beautiful mess. Only the darkness gives depth and dimension to art. Only your scars give depth and dimension to your soul. Again, I've got it on my list to ask God, "Why?" Right now, the best I can do is accept it as truth.
Do check out Heather and Ellie's blogs. Read, learn, and inwardly digest. And love the beautiful mess that you are. Just as God loves the beautiful mess that you are.
I wish more people had heard their profound message this past weekend, but I know that those who did hear it were changed and affirmed by our sacred time together. I also know that hearing such truth is not for sissies. Through their honesty in sharing their life stories, they peeled back that tacky veneer of perfection that we all develop. As we live, we learn, unfortunately, that our imperfections, our failures, our wounds and scars are distasteful in proper society. So we paint over them, paper over them, and cover them with all sorts of tricks.
The mess always surfaces, and eventually some of us give in and decide to explore our messiness. Many don't, sadly. In the Church, I often hear what Mary and I call "Awesome-Offs" among clergy. Clergy gather to share how rich their church is, how many members it has, how their church is single-handedly saving the human race, and how, in the clergy's spare time, they are writing God's memoirs. Clergy themselves often paper over their wounds by piling on the external affirmations and validations. Don't get me wrong, we need the externals, but when they become the sole way we know we are worthy, trouble is just around the corner.
At one time in my life, I enjoyed and participated in the awesome-offs. I wanted to be awesome and wonderful. I wanted to be well-appointed and totally together with a nifty job title and the accouterments that went with it. I accumulated degrees and awards and lines on a resume and felt quite awesome. Until I realized I was not.
Until God reminded me, in the midst of huge amounts of grief and disappointment and pain, that I was quite a beautiful mess. Being honest about my messiness was initially hard, so very, very hard. A physics and calculus exam in Latin hard. Seeing the true reflection of yourself with your mess is painful. I wanted to go back, to be perfect and put-together again, but I couldn't. So I discovered slowly, carefully, and cautiously, with the help of close friends and an amazing therapist, slowly, my very own mess.
At first I didn't think it was beautiful. I was ashamed of it. Horrified by it, and I wanted it to go away. But as I kept discovering, I saw God shining through the cracks and breaks. At first in pinpricks of light, but then I saw holiness in the mud, and I heard prayers in the ashes. I touched my beautiful mess. I named it aloud. I picked it up in my hands and held it to my cheek. I saw it as God sees it, not shameful at all, but my tangible, earthy humanness that was raw material in beauty and ugliness, elegance and messiness.
I am far more impressed by those who stand before us and share their pain and messiness, who speak of their struggles in addiction recovery, who show us their scars, who tell us that on a good day, maybe - maybe - they manage to iron their outfit and eat four servings of vegetables and take dedicated time for prayer, but they also swear while they pray and cry in the middle of Target because, when they pass the birthday cards, they remember they totally forgot their nephew's birthday two weeks ago. Okay, I did this - this one is mine. Bo, I wish I could tell you I won't do this again, but your Aunt is a beautiful mess, so I probably will, but I will also always let you be your own beautiful mess. No. Matter. What.
So, how to own your beautiful messiness? Some ideas sparked from Heather and Ellie's sharing and our own experience:
Don't tell me how perfect you are, because I know you aren't. I'm not. None of us are. If the best you can do is be silent about your mess because you haven't yet seen the light of God shine through your brokenness, I'm good with that. But please don't lie to yourself or me or any of us with your stories of perfection. And I've participated in all the Awesome-Offs allotted to me in this lifetime. So when I roll my eyes and leave, you'll know why.
Don't tell me how perfect your church is, because I will wonder if it's a church. My church is place where the saint and sinner is welcomed equally, even, especially, in the same person. God loves the messes. Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, David, Mary Magdalene, Peter - all beautiful messes. God changed the world with them. Perfect people in church read the Gospel; messy people in church are the Gospel.
Don't tell me how my messiness is a sign of weakness. Be brave enough to listen to my story, without judgment, without advice, without diminishing me. Hold my hand if you feel very brave. Bring me chocolate. Be honest enough to run away if my beautiful mess scares you. Messy people have a bravery that takes my breath away. If you can't be breath-taken away, then don't suffocate me with your "perfection."
Do remember that loving our beautiful messes is a lifetime commitment that will never be easy. As Heather said so perfectly, "I wish I could learn the hard lessons in life without slamming into a wall at 100 mph." So do I, but perhaps slamming into a wall shatters the false perfection. Then and only then can God show us the colors and beauty of the pieces of our broken selves on the floor. And then and only then can God piece them into resurrection.
Do love me in my beautiful mess. And know that I am learning to love myself, my messy, sometimes disastrous, sometimes breathtaking self.
Do love your own beautiful mess. Only the darkness gives depth and dimension to art. Only your scars give depth and dimension to your soul. Again, I've got it on my list to ask God, "Why?" Right now, the best I can do is accept it as truth.
Do check out Heather and Ellie's blogs. Read, learn, and inwardly digest. And love the beautiful mess that you are. Just as God loves the beautiful mess that you are.
Friday, August 3, 2012
This Intermission in Blog Posts...
While we are working on rewrites, due in a couple of weeks (GASP!), we thought we'd introduce our faithful readers to two fun blogs making the Episcopal rounds.
10 Things that Annoy Me is an opportunity created by the always-chipper and happy, happy, joy, joy personality, The Rev. Tim Schenck. The lists are hilarious, and include annoyances from clergy, laity, dogs, cats, horses, a rabbit, and two ferrets. You can submit your own. To read those things that annoy, click here.
And lest we mire ourselves in the negative, however funny our annoyances may be, The Rev. Bob Solon, Jr. offer 10 Things that Delight Me. From good coffee to good liturgy, enjoy reading those things that make us smile. As with those things that annoy, you can offer you list of things that delight for all to read.
Once rewrites are done, we will offer our list of 10 Something or another. Suggestions?
10 Things that Annoy Me is an opportunity created by the always-chipper and happy, happy, joy, joy personality, The Rev. Tim Schenck. The lists are hilarious, and include annoyances from clergy, laity, dogs, cats, horses, a rabbit, and two ferrets. You can submit your own. To read those things that annoy, click here.
And lest we mire ourselves in the negative, however funny our annoyances may be, The Rev. Bob Solon, Jr. offer 10 Things that Delight Me. From good coffee to good liturgy, enjoy reading those things that make us smile. As with those things that annoy, you can offer you list of things that delight for all to read.
Once rewrites are done, we will offer our list of 10 Something or another. Suggestions?
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