Buttercups in Bloom

    For as far back as I can remember I watched my math teachers. I watched how they interacted with students, how they explained the simple and yet complex movements of arithmetic, I wondered how they prepared for class and I listened as they called on my classmates. I wanted to teach, I wanted to be like them. My youth and young adulthood laid forth stepping stones that revealed a path that was much different than I had anticipated. Teaching was intriguing but what come pouring out was the joy of curriculum building. It wasn’t a curriculum based on mathematical equations that peaked my attention but a curriculum based on the steps of what it meant to be a disciple that filled my longing. From sitting underneath the stars in a small Tennessee county to years later lying on my back being enveloped by the streaks of the Milky Way Galaxy at Yellowstone National Park, there was a revelation that continued to extract a deeper sense of self and purpose. In those specific moments, there was

I have always been involved in a community of faith.  The connection through the gathered community has been a grounding force in my life for as long as I can remember.  From a kid who loved being part of my local youth, to becoming a college student who was instrumental in developing and leading a college small group bible study gathered life has been formative in who I am and who I believe God to be. Sandwiched in between those moments of the gathered community was the underlying message that the art and gift of prayer would lead us to a closer life to Jesus.  Prayer would calm all of our fears. Prayer would lead us to our future mate. Prayer would uncover the moments of insecurity and lead us to assurance. Prayer would heal our loved ones. Prayer would provide that beautiful family that we so desperately desired. Prayer would alleviate the anxiousness flowing deep within our minds and soul. Prayer would protect our children. Prayer would protect our children from harm.   I deeply be

Today was not what I expected. It has been filled with tears, frustration, and a deep sense of wondering if I have what it takes to keep moving forward. Most days I feel fairly confident in what I do and how I move through my task but in the past several months those moments of confidence have waned as I have stepped deeper into the world of technology.  COVID has required me to jump into Zoom and learn on the fly, to be connected to a larger faith community that shares news on official updates, provides tips for making our gathering times more meaningful with a sense of ease and allows you to ask questions when you can't find the right button or YouTube video to guide you through the chaos. In the past couple of months, I have dabbled in  Facebook Rooms, Microsoft meetings, developed more in Canva than I ever cared to do, and have researched what a new church management software that would move beyond just financial but help us as staff members and volunteers do ministry with ease

To the Girl in the tie, You have always been a warrior. You have always forged your own path.  When you walked across the room at the unexpected age of nine months I knew that your bravery would carry you in ways that I could not fully comprehend.  From those first steps, you wove a path of stealth movements that laid stepping stones for a life that outpaced the depth of your peers in how you viewed the world and those for whom your life intersected. From an early age, you saw the worth and wholeness within every single person you encountered. You see life within the dying, you embraced those who didn't have a place to sit during lunch and you love others with unashamed fullness.  You poured yourself into standing with your community, listening to the whispers of God through the voices of young adults. Yet in loving others you found yourself on the outside, wondering where you fit in. You voiced your questions with trepidation, wondering if you would be accepted.  You w

If you know anything about me I am a person who isn't afraid to ask questions. I ask questions to grow in my understanding of your unique story. I ask questions to gain a deeper understanding of why or what our purpose is together in ministry with and for one another. I ask questions so that I might have a clear vision of where a project is headed or what the expectations are. I ask a lot of questions. I use to think that questions were negative. I've been told that my questions are a sign of not trusting those in authority. My questions have been used against me to say that I do not work well with others and am not collaborative.  In Brene Brown's book Rising Strong , she helped me to reframe my own sense of what asking questions means so that I might uncover the fullness of my own truth; the truth I seek, the truth that others try to spin, the truth I tell and the truth that reveals the very crevices that have harmed and healed my soul over time.  She frames t

Life is filled with a thousand little pieces. Some seasons those pieces fit neatly together and we stand in awe at the layering of each piece. Each piece unveils another glimpse of a beautiful part of our lives unfolding.  Other seasons it feels as though the pieces have turned into shards and we become painfully aware our lives are fraught with sharp edges that have blurred the beauty that once shown so brightly.  We want to pick up the shards but we quickly learn that each time we work to put the pieces together, our fingers are stabbed by jarring edges.  Edges that leave us tender and vulnerable to cuts and bruises.  The beauty and the heartache are layered in such an intricate way we are unsure if we can continue the work before us. There are many who are experiencing the painful realization of a picture that just a few days was filled with beauty and certainty is now filled with shards that have left them broken, exposed, and vulnerable. They desperately want to have their liv

 I am among the privileged. I attended a private liberal arts college. I have a master's degree. I am a homeowner. I own an economical low emissions vehicle. I bubble in 'white' on all my forms. I am a cisgender female. I am among the privileged. I was bused across town in the 6th grade. I became a minority within the confines of school and our circle of friends. As a teenager, I was taunted when out in public with my closest friends. I was called 'oreo' or vanilla from the outside world when my friends and I ate dinner in restaurants or walked the mall. I am among the privileged.  I am a female clergy. At the age of 26, I was the youngest and only 1 of 2 females within my ordination class. I became the first female clergy ever to lead a church in Macon County, Tennessee. I have experienced discrimination among both males and females, both laity and clergy. I am among the privileged. I have walked as a minority in different seasons within my

When the rain comes it changes everything. Monday, three weeks ago I lingered at dinner with one of my favorite people and then made my way to one of my favorite places. I had put away all the little things that Sundays brings so that my desk would be clear as I returned to it on Wednesday.  Little did I know that Sunday afternoon would be the last time that I would be straightening my desk, putting my to-do list together in that space and turning the key to my office. A tornado ripped through our church building in the early hours of Tuesday morning and when I arrived at the church my office had been opened and I stepped inside to survey the damage.  I was surprised to find all of my belongings in their place.  As thing wound down at the church that Tuesday evening, I stepped inside to grab a few of my favorite items knowing that I would return to pack it all up in due time. Packing my office wasn't high on my list, there were people to tend to, service in the park to plan a

Be Still Know that I am God Over these past two weeks, I've been thinking about what it means to just be.  To be. To be still. To be content. To be thankful. To be grateful. To be who we are designed to be as God's breath enters us each morning. To be the one who steps up when others are in need. To be the one who is willing to share my specific gifts. To be. Being involves leaning into stillness.  Stillness comes in a variety of forms and isn't about merely sitting still. For me, stillness is the posture and attitude that views the world through the lens of abundance.  It's in and through the spirit of abundance that a sense of connectedness comes to life. It reminds me that during this time of social distancing that I am connected to resources that others are not. The stillness reminds me that I am a salaried employee with benefits and that I am not forced to make a decision about whether or not to stay at home with my child while school is closed or

Genesis 18:1-8  CEB "The Lord appeared to Abraham at the oaks of Mamre while he sat at the entrance of his tent in the day’s heat. He looked up and suddenly saw three men standing near him. As soon as he saw them, he ran from his tent entrance to greet them and bowed deeply.   He said, “Sirs, if you would be so kind, don’t just pass by your servant. Let a little water be brought so you may wash your feet and refresh yourselves under the tree . Let me offer you a little bread so you will feel stronger , and after that, you may leave your servant and go on your way—since you have visited your servant.” They responded, “Fine. Do just as you have said.” So Abraham hurried to Sarah at his tent and said, “Hurry! Knead three seahs[a] of the finest flour and make some baked goods!” Abraham ran to the cattle, took a healthy young calf, and gave it to a young servant, who prepared it quickly. Then Abraham took butter, milk, and the calf that had been prepared, put the food in front o

We have lost track of the days. Grief and exhaustion have set in. Tears continue to flow. Weariness overtakes us. How can I help has been asked? Compassion has been given and received. Connection in the isolation has come. When Nehemiah hears the news of his beautiful holy city of Jerusalem lying ruins from war and fire he “sat down and wept”. He sat down for days and mourned, fasted and prayed “let your ear be attentive and your eyes open to hear the prayer your servant is praying before you day and night for you servants,” (Nehemiah 1:6).   As we awoke to the reality of our beautiful, holy place of worship lying in ruins we sat down and wept. We wept for the longevity of saints that have gathered in the space. We wept for the loss of sacred space that has enveloped us all in love and holiness.  We wept for our friends and neighbors whose lives have been turned upside down. We wept. We began praying ever so gently and tenderly. Our prayers have merely a breath or

Night fell. The winds came. Fear and trembling took residency within every fiber of our beings. Chaos ensured. The world twisted, turned, and shook foundations. Brokeness. Light rose. Stones were broken. The world stood toppled. Trembling and awe began to slowly move within the core of our being. Connection came. Community gathered.  Mourning. A different path. Standing on holy ground. When I arrived at East End in July 2018, one of the first things I noticed was what, Judi Hoffman, did as she stood behind the pulpit.  Without hardly any effort Judi removed her shoes and pushed them aside.  In a conversation the following week I asked her about why she took her shoes off.  She told me the told the story of her arrival and standing there for the first time and that there was a presence that was so holy it could not fully be described and she knew she was standing on holy ground.  She was standing where so many faithful servants of Jesus had been.  Today as I stood

Isolation Vastness Various neutral colors fading together yet standing alone Unrelenting wind Wandering Dust covering you from head to toe Rocks Moving toward something that cannot be fully seen The idea of being stranded in the desert or in the wilderness is bone-chilling.  There is nothing inside of us that longs to be dropped into a place of isolation, a place where we cannot see or find a direct path back to the comforts of our lives, or a place that leaves us covered with a film of dust and feeling as though we will never be clean again.  Yet in the days before us, we find ourselves on the cusp of a journey that leads us in the direct path just a place. It is a place that takes me out of my comfort zone. It is a place filled with unseen dangers. It is a place that I do not want to be. It is a place that leaves me exhausted. It is a place that exposes my deepest fears. It is a place in which I can choose to retreat into myself or choose to be in conversation with th