If only we had a camera. That's what we've been saying since we came back home Saturday.
Last Thursday Jamie and I made a quick trip to Indiana. Jamie's dad had hip and knee replacement surgery on the 12th and is recovering at home now. It was hard enough staying in Wisconsin for the surgery, and he hadn't been feeling well, so we went down. The physical therapist says he is coming along well, and will only need 2 weeks of therapy instead of the 5 weeks he had planned.
We had a great though short time there, and wished we could've stayed for the World Impact Commissioning Service at IWU Saturday night. We're now glad we didn't. If we had, there's no way we could've made it home.
We now have over a foot of snow. It's still falling as I'm writing. Our church parking lot finally was plowed this morning because it's been a constant downpour since Saturday night. If only we had a camera. Needless to say, church was canceled on Sunday. I didn't want any of our people having to wake up to shovel their drives and then drive on semi-plowed roads.
Woohoo for snow!
If I didn't have to work this week, I'd be out in the snow making a fort or something.
Monday, February 26
Monday, February 5
Avoidance
Ok . . . This is a first attempt at writing again--so it's rough & raw. Anyone willing to take a shot at editing/critiquing is welcome.
Avoidance
“But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind.”
--James 1.5 (TNIV)
I must have Avoidant Personality Disorder . . . I read the description of it in a psych book once—the one that all the doctors use—it was my college roommate’s textbook. And the description seems to fit. You see, I get scared by the littlest things—like seeing a friend by chance at the grocery store. I hide if I can, sneaking around the next aisle just so I won’t have to say, “Hi, How you doing?” and start a conversation from there. Throughout most of my life, it has been easier to avoid conversation starters than have to frantically think up the words that become small talk. Perhaps because I am not a “think on your feet” kind of communicator. Or perhaps because small talk eventually becomes deeper conversation, the kind where you place your heart on your sleeve and hope the other person accepts you. And I have deep expectations for friendship—some that I won’t be able to fill, and others that I don’t expect anyone else to fill either. So, instead of talking to that person in the next aisle, I walk the other direction, intent on looking for the right brand of . . . something.
This avoidance disorder doesn’t just happen when I’m faced with unplanned conversations . . . My self-diagnosed psychosis has a hand in nearly every area of my life—except maybe for brushing my teeth and eating breakfast—you know, the usual out-of-bed routine.
My family labels me a procrastinator, and that label would apply, for I’m writing this three hours before my new writer’s club meeting . . . but I’m discovering that this need to avoid goes beyond procrastination’s normal realm. While I wait until the last minute do some routine things, the tendency to avoid begins when I am face to face with personal opportunities for success and failure. Decisions to volunteer my time, to start healthy eating habits, and especially, to write again. And while I hate to admit it, my avoidance has a lot to do with doubt.
Doubt in my God-given abilities to try—and to succeed. Succeed not just once but over and over again. It’s one thing to write for a college assignment. It’s an entirely different thing to write for the sheer fun and work of writing. What if I actually write something of value and people read my words—and then want me to speak on that subject? What if I have no words left to say than those already on the page? Or—and this may be my worst fear—what if my words are valuable to no one but myself?
I’ve taken a break from writing—The last three years I’ve only written emails and grocery lists; I haven’t even journaled. Nothing creative or reflective has graced my computer screen or paper. And I wonder, have I buried the gift God gave me? Buried it so deep that the gift is now lost? Do I have the courage to see if it is still there—hidden and waiting to be born one more time? Am I ready to birth whole essays, poems and stories not just for myself, but for others’ eyes and hearts, as well? And what words will come first? Words that will cut or heal?
And so I stand here with my doubts, wondering and waiting, and a little bit believing too. And I think I'd like to make a choice.
Avoidance
“But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind.”
--James 1.5 (TNIV)
I must have Avoidant Personality Disorder . . . I read the description of it in a psych book once—the one that all the doctors use—it was my college roommate’s textbook. And the description seems to fit. You see, I get scared by the littlest things—like seeing a friend by chance at the grocery store. I hide if I can, sneaking around the next aisle just so I won’t have to say, “Hi, How you doing?” and start a conversation from there. Throughout most of my life, it has been easier to avoid conversation starters than have to frantically think up the words that become small talk. Perhaps because I am not a “think on your feet” kind of communicator. Or perhaps because small talk eventually becomes deeper conversation, the kind where you place your heart on your sleeve and hope the other person accepts you. And I have deep expectations for friendship—some that I won’t be able to fill, and others that I don’t expect anyone else to fill either. So, instead of talking to that person in the next aisle, I walk the other direction, intent on looking for the right brand of . . . something.
This avoidance disorder doesn’t just happen when I’m faced with unplanned conversations . . . My self-diagnosed psychosis has a hand in nearly every area of my life—except maybe for brushing my teeth and eating breakfast—you know, the usual out-of-bed routine.
My family labels me a procrastinator, and that label would apply, for I’m writing this three hours before my new writer’s club meeting . . . but I’m discovering that this need to avoid goes beyond procrastination’s normal realm. While I wait until the last minute do some routine things, the tendency to avoid begins when I am face to face with personal opportunities for success and failure. Decisions to volunteer my time, to start healthy eating habits, and especially, to write again. And while I hate to admit it, my avoidance has a lot to do with doubt.
Doubt in my God-given abilities to try—and to succeed. Succeed not just once but over and over again. It’s one thing to write for a college assignment. It’s an entirely different thing to write for the sheer fun and work of writing. What if I actually write something of value and people read my words—and then want me to speak on that subject? What if I have no words left to say than those already on the page? Or—and this may be my worst fear—what if my words are valuable to no one but myself?
I’ve taken a break from writing—The last three years I’ve only written emails and grocery lists; I haven’t even journaled. Nothing creative or reflective has graced my computer screen or paper. And I wonder, have I buried the gift God gave me? Buried it so deep that the gift is now lost? Do I have the courage to see if it is still there—hidden and waiting to be born one more time? Am I ready to birth whole essays, poems and stories not just for myself, but for others’ eyes and hearts, as well? And what words will come first? Words that will cut or heal?
And so I stand here with my doubts, wondering and waiting, and a little bit believing too. And I think I'd like to make a choice.
Saturday, February 3
Hilty January Update
So it's been a little while since we've posted. Oops. Here's an update on the month of January for us.
The kitten. Maddie (we call her Madeline more often because it's her I'm-in-deep-trouble name), is getting bigger. She enjoys playing with her yarn, cardboard boxes, our feet, getting onto the table and countertop in the bathroom, and drinking the leftover water in the tub after a shower. Don't ask me why she does the last one...I don't know. But everytime we take a shower, she jumps in immediately after the water is off and lays down, gets wet and laps up the puddles. Goober. We love her and wouldn't know what to do without her. Right after Christmas our neighbors brought us another kitten, because they knew we wanted one. But they didn't ask if we still wanted one with Maddie in the house. So we took it. For one day. It was sick, with junk running out of its eyes, and it wouldn't eat. We took it to the humane society because right now we can't afford to keep two cats.
Women's ministry. I may not be best qualified to write this, but here goes. The women have been meeting bi-monthly for Bible study and monthly for fun nights. In January they made take-home shower sundaes. They put bath poofs and salts and foot massage stuff into a sundae glass. They also had Mary Kay facials. They've been averaging about 5-8 women per time. I'll let Jamie fill you in more about this and about writing later.
Men's ministry. The men of our church have been going out for breakfasts bi-monthly for prayer, a short devotional, and fellowship. Some of the guys who are normally shy have started opening up. And the food's good too!
Snow/weather. It hasn't been much worse than an Indiana winter. Today we had temps around zero and below. I guess they're calling for 30 below in a few days. They wait to close schools here until it gets 50 below. I wonder if IWU would close for that....probably not. We had two good size snowfalls earlier with a total of 8 inches or so. There's still a few inches on the ground now. We still haven't tried skiing. Maybe someday.
Ministers and Mates Retreat. What a wonderful time! We were so excited to meet lots of the other pastors and wives. I don't think we could ask for a better district all around. Dr. Jerry Pence was our speaker. We felt like he was speaking directly for us and our church. It was neat to meet the pastor who fixed up our parsonage, and one of the former ministers of our church (Alan Tripp, who was here in the 70s. The parsonage was built under his leadership and almost split the church). It was extremely encouraging to hear we were being prayed for over and over.
Right now we're getting ready for Lent, a Valentine's Day party, and Jamie hopes to head down to Indiana to help take care of her dad after his surgery (Feb. 12). He's having his other hip and knee replaced. If you think about it, pray that it would work out logistically for her to go down (me without a car). She also hopes to make it to the World Impact Commissioning Service.
We'll try to update more regularly from now on. If we don't, just smack us.
The kitten. Maddie (we call her Madeline more often because it's her I'm-in-deep-trouble name), is getting bigger. She enjoys playing with her yarn, cardboard boxes, our feet, getting onto the table and countertop in the bathroom, and drinking the leftover water in the tub after a shower. Don't ask me why she does the last one...I don't know. But everytime we take a shower, she jumps in immediately after the water is off and lays down, gets wet and laps up the puddles. Goober. We love her and wouldn't know what to do without her. Right after Christmas our neighbors brought us another kitten, because they knew we wanted one. But they didn't ask if we still wanted one with Maddie in the house. So we took it. For one day. It was sick, with junk running out of its eyes, and it wouldn't eat. We took it to the humane society because right now we can't afford to keep two cats.
Women's ministry. I may not be best qualified to write this, but here goes. The women have been meeting bi-monthly for Bible study and monthly for fun nights. In January they made take-home shower sundaes. They put bath poofs and salts and foot massage stuff into a sundae glass. They also had Mary Kay facials. They've been averaging about 5-8 women per time. I'll let Jamie fill you in more about this and about writing later.
Men's ministry. The men of our church have been going out for breakfasts bi-monthly for prayer, a short devotional, and fellowship. Some of the guys who are normally shy have started opening up. And the food's good too!
Snow/weather. It hasn't been much worse than an Indiana winter. Today we had temps around zero and below. I guess they're calling for 30 below in a few days. They wait to close schools here until it gets 50 below. I wonder if IWU would close for that....probably not. We had two good size snowfalls earlier with a total of 8 inches or so. There's still a few inches on the ground now. We still haven't tried skiing. Maybe someday.
Ministers and Mates Retreat. What a wonderful time! We were so excited to meet lots of the other pastors and wives. I don't think we could ask for a better district all around. Dr. Jerry Pence was our speaker. We felt like he was speaking directly for us and our church. It was neat to meet the pastor who fixed up our parsonage, and one of the former ministers of our church (Alan Tripp, who was here in the 70s. The parsonage was built under his leadership and almost split the church). It was extremely encouraging to hear we were being prayed for over and over.
Right now we're getting ready for Lent, a Valentine's Day party, and Jamie hopes to head down to Indiana to help take care of her dad after his surgery (Feb. 12). He's having his other hip and knee replaced. If you think about it, pray that it would work out logistically for her to go down (me without a car). She also hopes to make it to the World Impact Commissioning Service.
We'll try to update more regularly from now on. If we don't, just smack us.
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