On to 2019!

I love fresh starts -- planning new projects, dreaming of possibilities, setting goals. New Year's Day has long been my favorite day of the year. New year, new calendar, blank slates everywhere to fill with new plans!

2019 is all this and more. I am making perhaps the biggest move for me personally since Dave and I graduated from college and moved 250 miles to new jobs and a new community almost forty years ago. When we needed a place to rent, it was the pastor of the local Church of the Nazarene who found us a home. Members of the church sat on the front lawn waiting to help us move in when we drove into town. We joined the congregation and soon found ministry roles. We have been active church members since, through thick and thin.

In November, I was made aware that I would not be in a leadership position in the church music program going forward. That's all right. Although I am listed in the church directory as the music director, someone else had taken it on as their ministry. I wasn't looking forward to picking up the responsibility again when that person moved away. While I have enjoyed making music with my friends for the past decade and more and like having input into what type of music we do, I have gladly relinquished the leadership role whenever someone else was available and willing to do it. The manner in which I was pushed aside was disturbing, but the release itself was not unwelcome.

As I reeled under the way this was handled, however, being excluded from all discussions about the matter, and as it turned into neither Dave nor me being involved in worship music at any level, I realized several things.

1. I am being told I am no longer needed here.
2. I don't really fit here anymore.
3. I have options!

In December, I submitted my resignation as church treasurer and adult Sunday School teacher. Knowing it will take time to find and train a new treasurer, I set the end of January as my end-of-service date.

The unexpected release from music ministry was definitely a factor in this. It opened a door I wouldn't have considered pushing open. But that in itself wouldn't have prompted a move this momentous for me. As noted above, we have stayed through thick and thin for almost forty years, and there have been plenty of thin times before. What is different this time is the realization that for several years I have been moving in a different direction than the Church of the Nazarene at both the local and global level. I have been a Nazarene for most of my life and, until now, felt like I could work within the organization for what I see as needed change. However, being unexpectedly steered toward the sidelines concerning the music -- along with other recent decisions by local leadership -- has both disillusioned me and opened up new possibilities.

I'm hoping to write here more regularly in 2019. My plan is to focus on what lies ahead rather than on the past. The past is past, what is done is done. It's time for a fresh start.

On to 2019!

Out of the heart ...

Do you have a running commentary in your head? What is it like? Is the voice in your head kind or mean? Is it a monologue, a dialog with itself, or does it draw in other voices to form an imaginary conversation?

Jesus taught that our words come from our heart. (See Luke 6:45) How often are the words coming out of your mouth an outcropping of your inner dialog? Is that dialog a reflection of what is in your heart? Where do we begin to reshape inner dialog to better fit what we desire to have come out of our mouths?

The Making of a Liar

One of my earliest memories has two scenes.

In the first, I notice a little knob on the inside of the refrigerator. It has numbers on it. I wonder what it does. When I turn it nothing happens. I shrug and go on about my 5-year-old business. End of story.

In the second scene, my father is enraged. He rounds up his four children and roars, "WHO TURNED THE KNOB IN THE REFRIGERATOR??!!" I am speechless with fear. Who knew that turning the knob was an offense on this level?

"Did you do it?" he asks my oldest brother?
"No," comes the answer.

"Did YOU do it?" he asks brother #2.
"No."

"Did YOU do it?" he asks me.

Oh my. What to do, what to do? Obviously, 'fessing up is going to result in serious pain.

In the split second of considering what to do, it occurs to me that the penalty for turning the knob and then lying about it can't be much worse than for just turning the knob. Plus, my 3-year-old brother is next in line and he seems like the one most likely to have done it AND to lie about it. I decide to take my chances. In a tone as close to my innocent older brothers as possible, I say, "No." He moves on to the littlest brother, who, unsurprisingly, also denies doing the deed.

Now what will happen? My father is still in a rage. "If the one who did it doesn't confess, I'll spank ALL of you!"

Now my 5-year-old mind is spinning again. There are two brothers to my right and one to my left. I figure I have a couple of things going for me.

1) I'm in the middle. If this plan is carried out, I will not get the initial fury. There's a chance he'll tire by the time he gets to me, even if he starts with my younger brother.

2) I'm the girl. Surely, that will bring me a bit of mercy.

3) I'm not the prime suspect. Apparently, my lie has combined with my general good behavior to keep me in the clear. Little brother is much more likely to get the blame.

I stand my ground. Not guilty!

I don't remember what happened next, but I know it didn't involve any spankings, probably just a warning to NEVER touch that knob! It also did NOT include any explanation as to what the little knob in the refrigerator does. I don't remember when I finally found out its purpose, but it wasn't in that moment. What I learned in that moment was that I had the ability, with enough fear involved, to look someone square in the eye and deny the truth. It wasn't the last time I practiced that skill. In a time when I had almost no power against the flaring tempers of the adults in my life whom I tried so hard to please, when any attempt to justify my actions was brushed aside as back-talk, I had this one weapon of self-defense. I could lie!

Interestingly, enough, despite my general commitment to being a good girl, my conscience was satisfied that truth was not a practical option in a world where curiosity, ignorance, and occasionally tossing aside the rules for a little innocent fun resulted in harsh punishment. Even now, as an adult who loves honesty, I am satisfied that my younger self made the best choice given the environment. I have often expressed my commitment to the truth in these words: "I will be as honest as people give me space to be." What a blessing it is on the rare occasion I find someone willing to make space for true honesty.