Tim Kuefler, founder of arts-and-culture channel Timotheories interviewed me a couple of months ago and the magical work of editing is now complete. Our hour and a half conversation has been boiled down to its 30-minute essence and uploaded for your enjoyment.
I wrote Wherever You Are (the first version, at least) around 2007 in the early days of a church I was helping plant. We were a group of hip zealous young people and world-wizened elders wanting to change the world. Or at least the Church. Or at least our selves. I think we succeeded in that last part.
I was confused, coming unmoored from the constraints of my fundamentalist evangelical upbringing. It felt like a drift and I wondered if I would be OK. How far could I wander and still come home? But then I thought heard a Voice call from somewhere out in the fog.
My whole life I have tried to understand what was going on with my mom. Sometimes I did understand. Most times, still, I do not.
But this post is not actually about my mother's mental illness. It's about mine.
Two years ago I started taking medication for Anxiety and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I was terrified to see the doctor. I was afraid to even entertain medication. Driving into the parking lot that morning was a big accomplishment. I recall the details clearly.
I've been home now for less than 24 hours. Half that, and most of it spent soaking up sleep. In this short time, the complicated beauty of belonging has unfurled itself like a blooming rose. Or a venus flytrap.
Already, I have sensed the transference of a psychic weight that comes to any who dares proclaim themselves a parent. It came in sighs and knowing glances, and it came quickly. Which is fair. This is expected. This is heavy.
Near the end of this month, I'll be embarking on yet another new adventure. I am co-leading an arts and faith retreat with Julie and Sam Drew at King's Fold Retreat Centre.
I've never been to King's Fold, but I hear it is gorgeous. Serene. Pristine. From the photos and video I've seen, I believe the rumours to be true.
I’m sitting across from Rev. Travis Enright at the Popular Bakery. At this favourite community haunt, we are reviewing last Sunday’s Sacred Space gathering at St.Faith’s, led by The Bleeding Heart. And we are eating some of the city’s best sandwiches.
I have the sandwich Travis wishes he ordered. I offer to trade half of my sandwich. Now I am enjoying variety. Half house special, half ciabatta. This fusion is my best-case scenario, and it’s not a bad metaphor for last Sunday’s event.
When denominations dance, it can be clumsy. We can step all over each others’ feet. We can stumble and fall. But if the music is just right, and we know who is leading at each moment, the dance can be beautiful. A miracle, even. But it takes listening, sensing and responding.
Read the full review at BleedingHeartSpace.ca