I love doing this.

Just came home from church. It was likely my last time there for the summer, and my first regular Sunday MC'ing. I love being there.

First, I drove there successfully. That in itself is an accomplishment; I have a geriatric stick-shift minivan with a foot brake, and it doesn't like hills much. I also don't know my way around San Francisco worth anything. But I had good directions this time, and only turned wrong once, when the sun was in my eyes. When I got there, one of the other MC's had already marked the readings, so I didn't have to worry about it. All I really had to do was unlock the doors, put out the bulletins, and vest.

Advice: Go to a service before you help lead it. I'd never been to the 8:00, and had no idea what I was doing. We pulled it off, though. Also, pray and breathe. When you're responsible for the silences, don't panic.

Tommy anointed people for healing, and me for finals and safe travels. I feel so embraced here.

Visited with people I'd met once, but never talked with, at a coffee shop between services. One of them called me by my mentor's name, and apologized for it. I didn't mind at all: Molly's my mentor, Nedi's my bishop, and that's how I ended up here. (Apparently I'm living up to that legacy, because I'm welcomed, embraced, and having a great time.) Molly and I are crazy in different ways, and I don't think I'd mix us up, but being confused with her is a compliment. (I have a doppelganger in Olympia as well; everyone thinks I'm Jody at Traditions. I always get a smile; she's one of the neatest people I know.) We got talking about train trips, traveling, community, and friends. They're visiting family in the Northwest this summer, and we might get to hook up.

I knew what I was doing at the 10:10, because I've been there so much, and shadowed people. I also knew by then how loud to ring the bell. I relaxed, did my job, and caught myself at Communion unable to stop smiling. Sometimes you know you're in the right place, and you feel God breathe within you. I love doing this, and I belong there. I also know that it's only a piece of everything I'm called to grow into.

Tommy preached on listening to God. I'm glad I got to hear it twice. He said it would be a good thing if someone started a class on this. I felt a tug to do it. I just now e-mailed him. I would love to give something like that to these people. It's the safest place I know to start giving, start growing, start stretching beyond myself. They're welcoming, loving, and that whole piece of learning to listen is right exactly where I am.

One of the major reasons I want to do a year-long internship somewhere after next academic year, is that I love this community so much. I feel so blessed that they're my home while I'm here.

Okay. Must study. Peace out.

Fly away home

I just sent the Peeps home to Seattle with my bishop's husband.

::giggle::

I wish I could be there when +Nedi sees them. Apparently, when she was at St. Aidan's, they impaled Peeps on sticks and processed around the block, every year at the Vigil. Resurrection is such a good joke on Satan, you see. You have to laugh--and you get to.

[Bob was down here for a School for Deacons thing; they both used to be deeply involved with them. I saw him downstairs, said hi and we chatted a bit, then remembered the Peeps when I got back to my room. Fortunately, he was still there when I grabbed them.]

They are both just the neatest people. It was fun to run into him.

Found out today that I have to have my unholy wreck of a room packed by Thursday, to keep stuff in free storage here. That's the day my last final is due. I really didn't work while I was in mid-breakdown, and have tons of catching up still to do. So, back to packing/studying/rolling my eyes at myself.

Honestly, it's good to feel this energy again. Peace and blessings to all.

Oh, and I got the Seattle thing. I'll be interning at Ascension in Magnolia. I start directly after the DioCal ordinations in June, and I'll be there through August.

Unless you know me, you don't know how overjoyed I am to get to be connected with my home.

Alleluia.

You and me are free to be... you and me.

I'm out of my breakdown, I believe. Thanks be to God.

I e-mailed an apology to one of my teachers for the struggle I'd been going through, and copied it to my advisor. They both sent gracious replies. Yesterday, I saw said faculty in chapel. I very intentionally gave him the Peace. I think he just said, "Peace be with you," but the look in his eyes welcomed me back to the world. He checked in with me afterward, just to make sure I was okay. I said yes, and meant it.

I thanked my advisor, at dinner, for helping me. She just encouraged me to keep working.

What does it say about my own sense of self-worth, that I woke up this morning thinking about this? I don't doubt them, as people. They've proven their patience, their receptivity, their willingness to support their students. The most healing thing I've done for myself has been to respond to my advisor's request, "Tell me what's really going on." She wanted me to get it out, so we could work with it. Her approach was practical, direct, nonjudgemental. I told her how afraid I was, and then I told her why, and the threat went away. Why on earth am I so shocked to be treated decently?

For the same reason I was amazed when my friends welcomed my tears. I have always been about acceptance, and freedom to be yourself. But I'm only truly beginning to know and trust that it also is okay to be me. I think this is the first time I've ever been intentionally loved through the fear of making a mistake. I know now, deeply, that I don't have to be perfect. I only have to grow through challenges, to truly and deeply seek to be the person God intends me to be.

I can't be more me than that. And I can see God smiling.

I can type this without crying. I am aware of the love around me, feeling space to breathe. Healing is happening. Alleluia.

What I'm learning:

• Honesty is less scary than panic.
• If you feel judged, it's coming from yourself.
• Even authority figures want to support you. It's okay to let them know who you are.
• It's okay to have a breakdown. Trust your friends' love. They'll teach you how to love yourself.
• Once you've cried with your head in someone's lap, you can be that lap for others.
• Respect for other people goes with respect for yourself. You've got to do both.
• Feelings happen. You can't avoid them. Breathe with them, and keep moving.
• You can find groundedness and wisdom. Listen to your own deepest voice.
• Find your guides, and let them teach you.
• Avoiding people, or responsibilities, really doesn't work. You can't escape what you yourself know.
• Love yourself as you love your neighbor. Be gentle with yourself.
• Everyone has wounds. It's how you wear them that matters.
• Tears do not make you fragile.
• Struggle gives strength, and compassion.
• If you say you're sorry, you can know that you're forgiven.
• God never stops holding you. Even when you don't feel it, you are surrounded by love.

Yeah, it sucks that I have late papers. But if I had to have them, they are worth this learning. My teachers understand. And honestly, I couldn't have this growth if I were not under pressure. I needed to learn to see differently. I needed that fear to find this love.

Now, I get to practice it.

Fortune

The fortune comes from the Chinese place that the Apostle in Exile took me to, when I made an impulse trip out there last weekend. The paper is late. But, here we are, and I'm doing better.

The fishbowl I live in can be unnerving, but it's really all right. People do care. I talked with my advisor this morning. I was afraid to, but it was healing and good. It's hard for me when I don't live up to what I think I should. I've been trying to disprove a difficult criticism for a year. It didn't come from anybody here, and was nowhere near fairly given. But it stuck, and I've been trying to prove it wrong since.

My friends have given me perspective. They tell me that I am, and have been, a capable and worthwhile human being. With everything I've dealt with in the past year, I'd have reason to be gibbering under my bed. I'm not. I feel fragile, but under that I'm strong. And tears, quoth Molly, are "the least offensive fluid to come out of our bodies."

I'll get through. And I'll be able to pay it forward when I do. That's what makes this worth it. My friends are loving me now in ways I didn't know were possible. I am not the only person in the world who couldn't have conceived of the gifts they're giving me. Receiving them, I know they exist, and I can love like that. Everyone on this earth needs easy, total, unquestioned acceptance and freedom. You cannot heal without it.

I've learned something huge about healing, myself and other people. I have this tool, and I know I can use it. Thanks be to God.

"My brothers and sisters, we have an election."

Grace Cathedral, San Francisco, Saturday, May 6, 2006
(Photos from the San Francisco Chronicle)


We are marching, with a box of votes...

The Diocese of California elected the Rt. Rev. Mark Handley Andrus, currently Suffragan Bishop of Alabama, to succeed +William Swing as diocesan. He will be seated in the cathedral on July 22.

If you squint, you can see me in the above photograph; I'm fourth in line walking the ballot boxes to Diocesan House. I signed up to volunteer, though I'm not canonically resident here, because how often do you get to witness an episcopal election? We're doing it at home in a year; it was wonderful to see what such an occasion is truly like. We'd heard so much speculation about what California might do, all of it preoccupied and some of it hysterical. In truth, this was a productive, prayerful time. Delegates were intent on doing their jobs. We began with the Liturgy of the Word, through the Peace. Then, after three ballots and much joy at the outcome, we proceeded to the table. After Eucharist, my friends and I went home, happy at the decision and relieved to have some time that day for homework.

The only thing I'd have changed about the liturgy: There were 500 clergy and lay delegates in the cathedral. The place was crawling with priests and LEMs. Still, we had only two communion stations. It took much longer than it needed to. I told the seminarians I was with, "Hand me a chalice; I'll help!"

The fun thing was getting to play mole. +Andrus has been my friend Robyn's suffragan. I called her, after he'd been elected on the third ballot, with the news. She had to leave the GTU library so she could scream. She loves him and will miss him as her bishop, but she's very happy for him and for DioCal.

I know next to nothing about +Andrus, except that he's mentored my own suffragan bishop. I met him once, briefly, in Olympia the day after she was consecrated. He struck me as real, and approachable. Robyn confirmed that. "No, he's not a politician." He will pastor the clergy here, and do it well; he will also be free to exercise the full gifts of his ministry. Everyone I know is happy about this.

This election was not about sexuality, but about proven skill, compassion, and listening to the active presence of God. I have to laugh at the Reuters headline: "Heterosexual elected Bishop of California." Are we not more than our orientations?

Here is the text of +Andrus' address to the convention, delivered by phone from Alabama immediately after his election. I have to say, I am happy about this, and about him.

Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ:

Sheila and I are gladdened, and humbled, by the trust you have placed in me, in us.

Publicly, I want to say that my heart is with the other nominees and their partners. They are uniformly splendid people, and I was honored to be in their number.

Also, to all of you who have been so prayerfully working to bring this moment for your diocese, the election of a new bishop, you must know that you have exhibited every trait of a Christian community. You are a witness to the vitality of the Church in your very way of being.

We must all understand, and here I address the diocese of California and those listening from elsewhere, that your vote today remains a vote for inclusion and communion – of gay and lesbian people in their full lives as single or partnered people, of women, of all ethnic minorities, and all people. My commitment to Jesus Christ’s own mission of inclusion is resolute.

And I share with you your strongly expressed commitment to youth, to those who do not yet know Christ, our calling as evangelists, and to God’s waiting, expectant creation.

I take this election to be an expression of our common desire to be part of the whole, the Communion and the world, in what may be a new way. We will work together in the listening process, lending the unique voice of the Bay Area Episcopalians to this great conversation and working to end global human suffering.

Finally, let me say that being nourished as a bishop by the Episcopal Diocese of Alabama, fed by the historic and living witness of so many heroes of the struggle for human rights, whose words and deeds of compassion and justice have inspired and sustained me, I say to you the words of a west coast hero – “In the cause of peace, we cannot be sprinters, we must be long distance runners.”

Please join me in prayer. God Be With You.

“Oh God of unchangeable power and eternal light: look favorably on your whole church, that wonderful and sacred mystery; by the effectual working of your providence, carry out in tranquility the plan of salvation; let the whole world see and know that things which were cast down are being raised up, and things which had grown old are being made new, and that all things are being brought to their perfection by him through whom all things are made, your Son Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Fishbowl

Do you ever have a day that just thoroughly sucks?

Do you ever intermittently cry all day? When you know why, and it's not even that important--but it feels like the biggest thing in the world?

Do you ever try all day to finish a paper, just to keep yourself out of a doghouse that you know isn't as big as you fear it might be--and at the end of the day, you've come up with practically nothing?

Do you ever wonder when the very thought of "evaluation" won't send you reeling?

Do you ever wish you could be as much of a grown-up as your friends seem to be?

Do you ever feel completely worthless--and you only half-believe people when they tell you that you're not?

Are you ever both grateful that people care about you, and wishing they'd let you figure your own self out?

Do you ever know you need their help, or at least their listening, and wish you didn't?

If you do, you're not alone.

RevGal Friday Five: Birthdays

Wanna play?

1. Favorite birthday cake/ice cream/dessert
Cake: chocolate, with fudge frosting (forget the cake; I'm happy with the frosting)

2. Surprise Parties -- have you ever given or received one?
I've been to two; one for a friend (which I didn't help plan) and one she gave me. It was a nice, low-key gathering with friends in the woods. I'd thought I was just supposed to be at church early.

3. Favorite birthday present
Hmm... a painting that a friend made for me, two and a half years ago. I miss her.

4. What do you think of those candles that won't blow out?
They're fun the first time.

5. Best. birthday. ever.
Last year, probably. It started in August. My friends in Oly threw me a goodbye party, and as I'd be in California on my real birthday, they gave me a cake--five weeks early. (They also knew I liked organic cheese puffs, so they served them, in the nicest bowl in the house.) I spent my actual birthday weekend with the Apostle in Exile. I don't remember what we did, except I know we ate baklava. I think she took me out for sushi. I had coffee with my other friend, her priest, that Friday, and we had good catch-up time.

It was the first birthday in years--at least since before I turned 30--that I wasn't depressed. My friends have always made my birthdays nice; it isn't them. I was happy because I'd stopped measuring myself. Every year, I'd get down on myself because I wasn't where I thought I should be by then. Last year, that lifted. I knew I was on the path where I needed to be. I'm heading to where I want to go, and where God wants me to go, even if (as in right now) the next step is a fork in the road. I took that leap, and I was (and am) happy.

The "fork in the road" refers to summer. I'll either be in Yakima, or I'll get to go home. (Not to my old parish, but to my side of the mountains.) I've been needing to reconnect up there, but didn't realize how much I missed it until the possibility of a particular opportunity came up. I'll find out next week what I'm doing, and I'll let you know.

On to academic catch-up work. I'll be back tomorrow, with a report on the Diocese of California bishop election. I'm volunteering at the convention all day.

Oh, and I should wave hi to Jane, since she told me last night (at the CDSP follies, pics perhaps later) that she reads this. Thanks for the compliments!

New title and URL

I've been generally restless with my blog for awhile. The title has been bothering me, particularly. It fit when I first set this up, but I'm not really playing tag anymore. I know exactly where I live. Not only have I been tagged, and know it, but I'll never wriggle out of God's grasp again. I forget, sure. I can go too long without praying, or without simply being quiet. But I know where my home is.

It's also, by the old Celtic calendar (convenient excuse), summer. I thought of "Barefoot and Laughing," and it stuck. I'm now shifting everything over to where they need to be, and swearing up and down that I'll get some work done tonight.

Happy May Day!

This weekend

I am...

Writing one paper and making a good dent in the research for another

Taking care of a faculty member's cat overnight

Going to the once-a-month women's group at church, tomorrow morning

Going to the DioCal convention volunteer training, tomorrow afternoon (I'll bring my homework and study in the city between times)

Serving as MC (Lay Assistant) at church on Sunday

Doing piles of catch-up reading

Why do I do this to myself?

A-Z Meme

Because, of course, I have too much to do.

Accent: Pacific Northwest, accelerated (thanks be to Ritalin for slowing me down)

Book: The Secret Life of Bees

Chore I Hate: Cleaning the bathroom

Dog or Cat: I have neither. I like cats and large dogs.

Essential Electronics: Laptop, CD player in the car, cell phone

Flower: Nasturtium (I'm growing some for a friend who likes to eat them), lilac.

Gold or Silver: Silver, but I only wear a necklace

Hometown: Olympia, WA

Irritant: Asthmatic response to incense

Job Title: Seminarian

Kids: None, but I love them and want them someday.

Living arrangements: Grad student dorm

Most admirable trait: In myself: enthusiasm. In other people: compassion

Number of projects to do in the next month: Don't ask.

Overnight hospital stays: Four as a child, none since age 5.

Phobias: Heights and large spiders

Quote: "There are no outcasts. There are no second-class citizens. That is Gospel truth." --Rt. Rev. Vincent Warner, Bishop of Olympia, ECUSA, 10/31/03

Religion: Episcopalian, with a strong affinity for interfaith connection.

Siblings: None

Time I wake up: Between 6 and 7, though I rarely get out of bed then.

Unusual talent or skill: I can walk on my knees in the lotus position.

Vegetable I refuse to eat: Brussels sprouts

Worst habit: Procrastinating

X-rays: Teeth, chest, back, right foot.

Yummy foods I make: Tofu chocolate pie

Zodiac sign: Virgo

Liturgical Subversion

My friend, the "Apostle in Exile" in San Joaquin, conspired with my mentor (through whom I landed at St. Aidan's) to send me the most creatively, lovingly, wonderfully horrible package I have ever had the pleasure of receiving. Inside were all things necessary to create the Twelve Stations of Easter Kitsch, complete with written instructions. I knew it was coming; we'd talked about the "conspiracy" for weeks, and I knew how much she was relishing putting it together for me. (I was compelled to open it publicly, hence the enlisting of an on-campus friend.) I even suspected that Molly would spring it on me yesterday at lunchtime--which is why I had my camera in my pocket. (We'd just come from chapel, where we'd prayed in the Anglican Cycle of Prayer for the Royal Religious Peculiars. Not even knowing what they were, we couldn't look at each other.)

God help me if I ever tried this at school, but you may try it at home.

The apostle in question is in Florida for the week, and anyway she has a day job, so couldn't be here for the unveiling. You may adapt the instructions; I'm leaving most of those to your imagination. For her benefit and yours, here are pictures of this dubious resurrection. Molly took them, with my camera. Enjoy!



Station 1: The Easter Basket. "Behold, Kitsch is risen from the grave! Like the basket of a hot air balloon, he is lifted up."

We visited Target and a couple of dollar stores in the same evening, over Spring Break. I begged her not to get me this. But I knew she would. She had to. I had no idea what it would become, though.

The Note to the Celebrant is absolutely priceless: "...In ecumenical settings, it is advisable to have Easter baskets... show at least three faces of the Lord: the Masked Master of Hidden Strengths (aka Spiderman), the Intrepid Traveler (aka Dora the Explorer) and the Maker of All (aka Bob the Builder)."



Station 2: Pink Peeps, inspired by an overdose of hideosity that evening in Target. "Here begins the story of our salivation toward the Lord. We remember the sound made by the women on discovering the empty tomb: ...Eep!! Eep!! Eep!!"



Station 3: Bunny Ears. "Open your ears, O hard-headed people. ...The spiritual truth comes only through the eyes on TOP of our heads."



Station 4: Lop-eared Ceramic Bunny Woman. "For this is also a cautionary tale... If you do not preserve even the uttermost tip of your bunny ears, you too will be condemned to stand as a bunny woman statue forever!"

So that's how Lot's wife gets into this...



Station 5: Chocolate Cross. "Taste and see that the Lord tastes good!"

I'm utterly fascinated with the whole idea of eating a chocolate torture instrument. I mean, I wear a silver Celtic one. But eating them, in celebration? In the words of the online education guru, a mutual friend of the apostle's and mine, "It's like eating a chocolate electric chair." This one has the wood grain and everything. Eep!



Station 6: Chocolate Easter Bunnies. "Behold the demons that leer and glitter at the glory of our Lord! ...Devour your enemies. Quickly, lest someone else should gain their heads!"

I have no compunction against eating chocolate bunnies. But I can't, until at least Sunday. My rector needs to see this liturgy. He'll enjoy it almost as much as I have.



Station 7: Stretchable Bunnies. "How can we contort ourselves into such an unlikely faith?"

I actually would (and will) play with these. You shall see the evidence. But not yet...



Station 8: Bunny Jacks. "Fearfully, the people scattered. Patiently, she gathered them. Reenact this holy ritual with these most sacred bunny jacks and ball."

Someone had to make this stuff up! And people buy them for their kids, like regular toys. Really!



Station 9: The Chickie Basket, the bright pink scary thing at the far right of this picture. "Bow your head in reverence as the scattered jack people come to rest in its bosom."

Bow my head in helplessly unstifled giggles, she means...



Station 10: Easter Jump Rope. "Come, all you peoples. Come and jump for joy!"

If I did this at school, it's just enough rope to hang myself with. Even I don't dare do that!



Station 11: Carmen Miranda Celebriduck. "On this most holy day, we also welcome others into our fellowship--through the rite of baptism."

My favorite of all of these, the drag-queen duck. My friends and I jokingly call her "Magdalen."



Station 12: The Light of Kitsch. "It is time for us to be sent forth into the world..."

Giggle in peace to love and serve the Lord!

(And please, if you're ever on my COM, this is only for fun. We're poking at popular culture. Easter itself is sacred to all of us--which is why these things leave us shaking our heads.)

Knowing

I slept very little last night. Went to church again this morning, and then to a potluck. I'll admit to exhaustion. But everything I wrote previously is, if anything, more deeply true. I am not feeling any endorphin high. I have been touched, changed, more profoundly than I know how to articulate. I know what I am called to do, on a cellular level, in my throat and in my heart, deeper than doubt can reach. I'd thought that I was grounded, before. The ground is different now. But it is life-giving, and strong.

I know that I will need to live into this reality, and to find these words. This calling came to me gradually, tentatively, over many years, as I was able to listen and as I wasn't. Now it is clear and strong. I don't question my sanity. I want to know how to grow into what God is asking me to be. The first thing to do is to take all the skills I'm learning more seriously than I have. I had a watershed experience yesterday. I am called to relationship with God, as we all are. I believe I'm called to be a priest. I want to do this, and I want to do it well. I care much more about my pastoral skills than about, say, the Council of Chalcedon. I couldn't care less where anyone falls on an internet heresy quiz--I want all to know that God simply loves them. How to do this? Go after the academics like a dog with a bone. Practice everything. Listen. Listen. Listen. Attend to other people and attend to God. Know that I am learning to be a vessel--not the healer herself, but one through whose hands and words and actions, God heals. And then, get out of my own way and be that conduit.

Learn to listen. Learn to speak. Learn to stand up, and to sit still. Let the fire burn; burn with it. Tell my rector exactly what is different--not "I'm thinking, maybe," but "This is where I know I'm called to be." Tag along to vestry and stewardship committee meetings, as well as the liturgical/pastoral activities that draw me. Learn everything I can. Try everything I can. Own everything. Grow without fear. Let myself love what I love, and follow what I follow, awake and with abandon. Listen to the Yeses, listen to the Nos and Laters; dig deeper all the time.

Always, keep walking. Keep praying. Keep alive to the world and to God.

Christ is Risen!

Christ is risen from the dead,
Trampling down death by death,
And upon those in the tombs bestowing life!

Sing along.



Wow. I've never been to an Easter Vigil like this one. We told all the stories--none were read the usual way. Genesis was read, against a background of Native American instrumentation. (We got what creation might have sounded like.) Ezekiel and the Dry Bones was performed wordlessly, as interpretive dance. One man encircled another, breathed on him, and both danced together. They drew a few of us into the circle with them; I was one. Noah's Ark was read as a poem. The Moses story was told by Aaron and Miriam, two years in the desert and tired of everything. We had three baptisms. And I got to serve at the altar.

Always before now, I talked about "being called to something." I hardly dared say what--at most, "maybe priesthood, maybe Mercy Corps." I didn't commit--I couldn't, as my process will take forever and I have no control over what people see in me, and decide about my calling.

Until tonight. I was six inches from the baptisms, holding the book, and I wanted to be performing them. Not maybe. Wanted to be. Felt the Spirit flowing into me, "This is where I want you." It was like being in a waterfall of God. I thought about what it means to be there and to be initiating other people, and I don't want to be anywhere else.

Called a friend when I got home, because I knew she'd understand. She did. (She's a woman in San Joaquin, with a calling of her own.) She said the alleluias for me and with me, and told me what I knew--that I was glowing, and that my soul was "going splat!" against the ceiling. "There is," she said, "no going back now." I know that. And all I can do is rejoice. All I can do is love God back, and dedicate myself again to being the person God affirms I am now, and is calling me ever more deeply to be.

Now. I need to live into this calling until other people see it, and forever, let myself live it always more. The service was beautiful, creative, wonderful, powerful--and frustrating, because while I felt internally, invisibly anointed, I was also reminded how long my road will be. I'm not formally in process. I've got many people to prove myself to. I keep hearing messages from friends about how the process toward ordination beats people up--and messages from God not to doubt who I am or what I give.

God is, inexorably, no matter how I block it out or doubt my own worthiness, calling me.

The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia.

(We sang the Troparion I linked to, though less well than the choir from St. Gregory's. You can find their music here.)



(Pictures added May 2, 2006, from the St. Aidan's Tuesday FLASH.)

Worth getting up on a Saturday...

Since I came back from Spring Break (a week ago Monday), I've been feeling like each of my limbs is caught in its own separate riptide. I'm having real trouble focusing. I have a million things to figure out and do, and it feels like very little time to do them in. Sometimes I just can't move. Sometimes my head's above water--and I'm choking. Sometimes I can do the things I need to do.

I'm housesitting in Walnut Creek this weekend, and drove in to school this morning for the ally training that four of my friends put together. I wasn't sure what I'd learn; I'm capable of and willing to stand up for and with other people. I'm very, very glad I went.

Early in the workshop, we heard the story of the paralytic who was lowered through a roof to be healed by Jesus (Mark 2:1-5). We split into two groups: an inner and an outer circle. Partners faced each other and each answered a question. Then the outside circle shifted three people over, and we had new partnerships. Three times we answered questions: who in the story did we identify with and why, when did we not have an ally and need one, and when did we have an ally when we needed one? We didn't dialogue; we just listened, and told our own stories. Then we got back into the big circle and called out the feelings we had heard and experienced. We noticed how the mood of our group changed when we shifted from discussing feelings of abandonment to feelings of relief, validation, and freedom. I noticed in myself how, when I am listened to and supported, I am reconnected with the truest parts of myself, with other people, and with life.

Later, we discussed two models of interaction from a tiny little $100 book, Overcoming Organizational Defenses: Facilitating Organizational Learning, by Chris Argyris. Model I can be described as "making nice" in order to persuade. Here, you shy away from confrontations to appear non-threatening, but when you're challenged, you win by not backing down. It's kind of an intentional passive-aggression, except that you can feel good while you're doing it, because you want to make other people feel good. Model II encompasses much more self-reflective behavior, as well as honesty with the other. Your currency here is valid information and varied perspectives. You speak from your own position, and listen when others do the same. You're not chasing social victory, but mutually acknowledged truth. You operate not from a place of fear, but from respect for yourself and those you're conversing with.

I thought about this for the rest of the morning, through a role-play we did and our closing discussion. I thought about who I am as an ally and as someone who needs allies of her own. I finally realized something: I am not very practiced at remembering my own power. I forget that my words--anyone's words--carry weight simply because I speak them. Thinking of it now, it feels like inner tai chi: finding my balance, testing my limits, using my voice. I can stand up as I am, and I can thoughtfully speak in truth. I don't have to be emotionally reactive. I can know that I am a valid and immeasurably worthy creation of God, and I can live from that place of sureness and strength.

This is our birthright. You can do it too. Speak from your center, in confidence that you will be heard.