SWB: Rooted and uprooted

There are ways in the last week that I've felt re-rooted and uprooted and I suppose that is just the way life can be. A few weeks ago, I was bothered by a dream that left me upon waking with an overwhelming sense of failure. I was not feeling or sensing this emotion in my waking existence, but somewhere in my subconscious it was lurking the way this kind of feeling lurks in dark corners of the psyche only to find release in REM moments of dreamland. It was a bad dream. I don't remember much of the details, just an oppressive feeling of.. "I really messed up and it can't be fixed."

For the most part, I shrugged off this seemingly random dream and went about my life. I was at the NYWC in Pittsburgh, so I had lots of things to keep me busy and occupied. I resumed the pace of life when returning home to my family and my work and planned out the remaining months of the year of youth activities and gatherings without so much as missing a beat. That is until tripping over the words of a friend and co-worker last Sunday morning.

The scripture chosen for the day was the parable of the talents. So there was much thinking on the area of gifts and the use of gifts. Needless to say, it got me thinking on all the hopes and dreams I have and maybe, just maybe some of the shortfalls of the past came to mind. Maybe even some of the feelings of that random dream came creeping along too... that is until I heard someone say my name and came back to the reality of Sunday morning worship where I was sitting.
My friend said to me... " Tara, God did not call you here to fail."

That was it - simple and direct - in the middle of his message to the church members gathered. In the middle of the message, was a direct message to me - me! My nightmare was obliterated in a few powerful words.

Forget the dream and feelings of failure - God has a different plan than you can imagine. In the words of Krista Tippett, " ...each of us, flawed and inadequate as we may feel, has exactly what's needed to help repair (or accomplish what needs to be done) the part of the world that we see and touch" (Speaking of Faith, pg 184.)

Wherever I feel rooted or uprooted, God is sufficient - more that sufficient really. Though I felt affirmed and moved to tears in worship by the words that addressed me last Sunday morning, I was not fully aware of their magnitude in the coming day.

Monday afternoon, a new but particularly close friend of mine died suddenly from a massive heart attack. I feel totally uprooted by his death and yet I know that my presence at his funeral later today will be a rooting experience for me. It is a reality check and a opportunity of re-rooting in grace that I'm holding onto today.
I know that God is the root and I'm a branch that has experienced pruning in the past, in today and in will come again in the future. Even in pain, growth occurs - sometimes even more so. Today I will do my best to be a advocate for "tikkun olam" - repair the world, even if it is only my small section of branches.

Hold on to the bread. Hold fast to the root.
Tara

SWB: Claustrophobia and clearings

Mary Lue shared her host post on business and rest for this weeks Sleeping with Bread Examen. Her words resonated with me in the fact that due to a significant staff change at my office, there is more work to be done and my plate is feeling fuller lately. There have been more meetings, and lots of talking and planning. For the most part, I've felt much more connected to people since I've become more involved in this way, but oddly when I'm done for the day or night - I find myself in need of some quiet. Maybe I'm still sorting and planning in the back of my mind, but silence (even my own) is something I find myself being more and more drawn too. It's like the extra noise, both internal and external, makes me feel claustrophobic . A few days after Christmas, I went into a game store with my son and was overwhelmed by all the noise and activity there. The store was tiny but filled with kids and their parents vying for their video game of choice. My head felt hot, my

Sunny and rainy day friends

There are two kinds of friends in the world: Sunny day friends and rainy day friends. This is a statement that my Mom used to remind me of when I was in the midst of drama or conflict with one school friend of another. There are lots of people that we define as friends, but they are really acquaintances. Two men were out hunting in the northern U.S. Suddenly one yelled and the other looked up to see a grizzly charging them. The first started to frantically put on his tennis shoes and his friend anxiously asked, "What are you doing? Don't you know you can't outrun a grizzly bear?" "I don't have to outrun a grizzly. I just have to outrun you!" This story is funny, but it does help define the distinct difference between a rainy day friend and a sunny day friend. The sunny-day-friend is more concerned with watching out for their own health and wellness, than their friends' wellbeing. On the other hand, a rainy day friend is willing to take risks, work fo

What Summer Camp Means to Me...

I was around six-years-old when I first went to sleep-away summer camp. At the time I lived in PA and the camp (through my church) was in Ohio. All school year, I attended Sunday School faithfully partially because regular attendance allowed my family scholarships to help with the cost of Summer Camp. Over the school year, I attended most Sunday's and by the end of the year, my little coupon book was full of stamps - providing me with a scholarship to attend a camp session. I provide this background on how I first got to go to camp, because it is an essential part of explaining what Summer Camp meant (and means) to me. Going away to Summer Camp gave me a whole new experience of community. The whole process of going to and attending was the first times I experienced, "it takes a village", personally. From the Sunday School Teachers who drove a sedan full of kids to Ohio, to the counselors and staff who supported new campers: through the first 48 hours of homesickness

Uphill idealist

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