I Spent The Morning Talking To Rocks...

Before anybody completely freaks out, I know that I have caused a lot of people an awful lot of concern this past week.  I'm sorry.  I don't like to lie, and the truth is, I'm not really OK, but I will be.

Earlier this week, I told some friends that I was struggling with grief, but it wasn't the kind of grief that accompanies death.  Then, I promptly turned around and did some cemetery hopping, so maybe I was wrong about that.  I am, indeed, dealing with some very complex grief.  It is touching more areas of my life than I thought it could, and it is a real process to work through.  I decided a good place to start might actually be with the kind of grief that accompanies death and is common to anyone who has ever experienced this kind of loss.

It is here that I have to admit that my Nana died a little over 18 years ago, and I had never been to her grave until today.  I am embarrassed by this.  18 years of denial is, at best, outrageous.  At worst, it might be a little psycho.  

I set out, this morning, to finally visit her grave as well as that of my Grandpa Ernie (who died before I was born), their infant son, my Uncle Marc, who I didn't even realize existed until last week, and my great-grandparents, whom I also never met.  So, five graves, one person who I had the opportunity to know and love deeply.

By its very nature, this post should be somber, start to finish.  Well, you can forget that, because this is my life, and nothing is ever "normal".  Because it is difficult for me to follow GPS and drive at the same time (yes, I admit it), I plugged the address my dad gave me for the cemetery into mapquest, printed out paper instructions, and went on my way.  This was going really well until I got to where the cemetery was supposed to be, and it wasn't there.  It's always awesome to be lost in Detroit, alone.  This happened to me twice today, but I digress.  So, I pulled into a church parking lot, parked under a sign that said, "Unauthorized vehicles will be towed," and attempted to use the Internet feature on my phone to pull up my email in order to figure out what had gone wrong with this address.  As it turns out, it was my dad's fault.  I can't wait to tell him all about it.  I have already publicly disgraced him on facebook, which doesn't really matter, since he has informed me that he will never, ever have a facebook account... ever.  He missed a number in the address.  Initially, it looked like I was going to have to wind through miles and miles of city streets, but it's a good thing I double checked, because actually I was only about a block away. 

So, I finally arrive at this enormous cemetery, and I drive for just a few moments as it occurs to me that I legitimately need help to find the graves, because this place is literally over 100 acres.  I park where I think the office is and approach the front door which has a sign posted directing me to the stone building.  Uh...  There were a lot of stone buildings, but I found it.  Thankfully, the man who greeted me in the office was about the nicest person I think I have ever met.  He asked for the names, chatted a little bit about my German heritage, asked if there was a grave marker, to which I was like, "Well, I think so.  I certainly hope so!", and proceeded to give me two detailed maps and step by step directions for how to arrive at the right place.  I think he called me, "Honey," like 15 times.  He was old.  That makes it endearing.  When he was finished giving directions, he asked if it made sense, and I said, "Yes," to his great relief.  I mean, he visibly sighed.  I decided not to tell him what a horrific failure I am at following directions.

Speaking of which, why do cemeteries have so many rules about flowers?  I might have broken them all, today.  Don't tell anybody.

I basically followed the directions to the general area where the graves were, and from the road I could see a large headstone indicating that I was in the right place.  Unfortunately, I could also see four riding lawnmowers and a weed whacker...  and I mean right there in front of me.  Seriously?  I wait 18 years to visit this grave and at this very moment it is lawn maintenance time?  The severity of this is only obvious if you understand how terribly allergic I am to cut grass.  At this point I have turned the van off and am sweltering as I watch the weed whacker guy take care of the family headstone.  And then, after several more minutes, most of the maintenance people disappear, and I get out of the van.

Now this is sort of funny, but as a kid it was drilled into me by my mother that you must never walk over a grave.  I mean, I was terrified that if I walked over a grave a ghost would haunt me or something.  I remember there being some antidote that required walking back over the grave, but come on, I don't have time for that.  So I sort of mumbled, "Excuse me, sorry, thanks for being my grandparents neighbors, oops, didn't mean to disturb your death," as I walked over all kinds of people today.  OK, I really only said these things in my head.  It wasn't audible or anything. 

   

I was actually surprised that the large headstone I had observed was for my great-grandparents and the baby.  This, of course, left me wondering where Grandpa Ernie and Nana were buried.  A few more steps, and there were their grave markers, not at all what I expected to see.  Nana's name was almost entirely obscured by dirt and grass that had grown over the marker.  I was actually a little distraught by this, says the person who has never, ever even been there.

So, you have to understand that my Nana was the classiest lady ever.  We're talking perfect hair, nails and make-up, an international traveler until she was gone.  Two thoughts went through my mind.  First, there is no way it is acceptable for her grave marker to look like this.  Second, she would be appalled if her granddaughter used her keys... and fingernails... to clear this debris.  Well, I have no idea how my amazingly classy Nana got a granddaughter like me, but you'd better believe I walked away from that place with tons of dirt under my nails.  I didn't manage to clear nearly as much as would have liked, though, because at some point whole clumps of grass and dirt were coming up, and I really had no intention of exhuming anyone today, so I figured I'd better quit while I was ahead.  If anyone was observing, it must have been a real sight.  Let's add "digging in the cemetery" to "talks to rocks"...

Well, seeing as it was a beautiful, dry, sunny day, I did spend some time sitting on Nana's grave (I don't think she'd mind), and talking, and crying.  I told her about my kids, and especially about Miah, since Miah's middle name is her own.  I talked about life.  I needed that.  And I prayed.  I needed that, too.  As I was leaving, I said, "Good-bye, but not forever.  That's what resurrection is for."  I was going to post that thought to facebook, but since so many people have been panicked about my own well being, I decided it might be misunderstood and refrained.  But it was really good to consider that fact that death is not final.  Grief is temporary.

From there, I proceeded to drive to the cemetery where Mammaw and Paw are buried.  Now, this is a completely different kind of experience, because I have been there many times.  After Mammaw died, Paw spent almost every day for two solid years at the cemetery.  He would take a lawnchair with him and sit there from the time the cemetery opened until it closed.  I have never seen that kind of grief before, and I have never seen it again.  It was heart-breaking.  Mostly I say that, though, to indicate that it was not difficult for me to find these graves.  Finding a place to park was another story, because the ordinary parking place was reserved for a funeral.

I grabbed my camera and some more flowers and made the same kind of trek over lots of other graves that I had made at the first cemetery.  I guess it had been a little longer than I'd thought since I was last there (7 years), because it took a little while to find the right tree.

Their marker was also a real mess, so I got down on my knees to clean it off, only to realize that the ground was soaking wet.  So, this is the part where I just about burst out laughing in the middle of a cemetery, and I have to consider how terribly inappropriate that is, but really, it was funny.  I would imagine it would also have been pretty funny if anyone had seen me trying to figure out the built in vase that you actually have to pull out of the grave marker and flip upside down to leave flowers in accordance with the rules.  I figured it out... eventually...  I was able to leave more flowers there, since I wasn't discreetly breaking rules this time. 

I sang at Mammaw and Paw's graves, and believe me, it was not pretty, because crying and singing don't go too well together, and the bells from the nearby mausoleum were chiming patriotic tunes while I murmured some hymns, but whatever.  It was what I needed to do.  

At both places, I was somewhat enamored by the dates.  I physically reacted to my Grandpa Ernie's date of death, because it is Caleb's birthday.  I never knew that.  I was overcome by the faithfulness my Nana expressed in living for 27 years without him.  I was overwhelmed by Mammaw's date of death, even though, of course, I have always known it, because it helped me to process some of the ways that her death affected my life at that time.  And I was shocked to realize that Paw has been gone 7 years.  Again, I know it, but it doesn't feel like it can possibly be that long.  There was another marker that caught my eye, though, and it made me really sad.  There was a relatively new grave near Mammaw and Paw's, and it wasn't neatly lined up with all the rest.  I took a peek, and there was a name and an inscription that indicated that the marker was provided by the cemetery.  But there were no dates at all.  This was astoundingly sad to me, as if this was a life that didn't really exist in any particular time or place.  Of course, that's not true, but in 100 years, who would ever know?

I've heard people say that it's not the dates that really matter but the line drawn between them.  Maybe it's because we're not so far removed from Easter, but as I was getting ready to leave the second cemetery, wet pants and all, I considered Scripture, "Why do you look for the living among the dead?" (Luke 24:5b).  And I had to stop and ask myself, Why do I?  It was very good for me to make this trip.  I may make it more often in the future.  But the thing that really struck me was the heritage that these wonderful grandparents have left and the significance of what I do with it now.  Life is short, shorter than any of us really wants to consider.  Make it count.  And, also, don't lose sight of the hope that we have for eternity.

I am still processing things.  This was a good first step.  In recent days, these past few months, and particularly the past week, my life has been a huge series of highs and lows.  It feels like a really bad roller coaster ride, without the seatbelts, some days.  You could keep praying for me.  I am currently out of town for some soul care days (I know, again, I have catching up to do), and waiting for my amazing husband to finish up the responsibilities he has, today, so he can come pick me up for a date.  The man has seriously had to chase me around the state this past week in order to see me, so you could pray for him, too.  I am blessed.  

I'm still a mess, but God is doing good things.  That doesn't mean that I'm not going to say things that make everybody uncomfortable.  It's OK.  I'm working through it.  Did I mention I'm really blessed?

L.               

Happy 11th Birthday, Caleb!!!

The numbers just keep getting higher and higher...

I think eleven is sort of an "under the radar" birthday at our house. 

Today Caleb chose homemade pizza and orange cake.  I thought the orange cake was sort of a funny choice, because usually that request would come from Ian, but it was pretty good (coming from someone who doesn't like cake):

It was a very Lego birthday... aren't they all.  Uncle Brad would be proud of Caleb, because he is super good at guessing what his presents are before he unwraps them:

 

After some mishaps, we even ended up with a couple of decent birthday portraits:

 

I love you, Caleb!  Happy Birthday!

Tempting...

Last week, my two oldest children ran into a problem that is fairly common.  They felt as if no one was listening to them.  Wow.  Have I ever been there, myself.  Being young teenagers, they probably didn't handle this is as well as, say, adults might.  Actually, I'm not sure they even handled it as well as they ordinarily might.  There has been a lot of stress and pressure lately, and let's face it, anybody can have a bad day.

But here's the thing.  I tend to think it's pretty important to listen to my kids, so when they came to me, in tears, I did.  The topic was temptation.  They weren't satisfied with the conclusion that the devil is at fault.  Hear me loud and clear here, Satan sucks!  Evil is real.  James 4:7 has been running through my mind ever since this conversation got started, "Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you" (NIV).  I think it's incredibly stupid to give sin a foothold of any kind in our lives.  But therein lies the key.  We have to take responsibility.  

It took me almost four days of pouring over his words to figure out what it was that my fourteen year old son was trying to say.  And believe me, I get it.  I completely understand that no one outside of my immediate family loves him enough to think about his words for this amount of time, and that's OK.  But he was right.

In regard to Jesus' temptation in the wilderness, he said, "These were things that Jesus wanted".  I might even take this a step further and say that some of these things were things that Jesus needed.  Bread after a forty day fast?  Yes, please!

But Seth's solution is simple, too simple because it's not what anyone wants to hear.  Stop wanting what you shouldn't have.  Ouch!  Been there, too...

I will never apologize for his passion.  The fact that Seth sat there in a classroom full of girls who are often very insecure about themselves, and made the bold statement that they don't need to be, makes him about the most endearing fourteen year old kid I can imagine.  He never, ever would have put it this way, but it's almost as if he was up in their faces telling them, "Hey!  You're good enough!  Not only should you stop allowing the devil to have a foothold in your life that tempts you to be something you're not.  You should stop wanting that.  Someone will love you for who you are.  Just be who you are."  And he means it.  He lives it.  He is so comfortable in his own skin.  

Grace's solution is a little more difficult, and maybe a little more human.  Know Scripture.  It will never cease to amaze me how offensive this often is to people who claim to love Jesus.  We need to know what Scripture says.  We need to understand what it means.  And we need to live as if we care.  Jesus refutes  every one of the devil's temptations with Scripture.  Let's not lose sight of the very real struggle that is happening here.  Jesus is hungry!  Jesus is being forced to question his identity and whether or not he is really the Messiah and whether or not his Father really loves him.  Everything he wants is on the table, there for the taking.  But Jesus stops and says, "Wait.  Something about this isn't quite right.  Let me return to what I know is true".

Just think about that for a little bit...

L.

Family Waterpark Party...

It's tradition for our kids to have a birthday party at age 5.  Unfortunately, all of Miah's friends live hours away, and I do mean all of them, so doing a traditional party just didn't work.  So, we booked a night at Great Wolf Lodge and called this a "Family Waterpark Party".  She's happy.  We're happy.  It works.

Here are some photo highlights:

L.

Cynicism Comes All Too Easily...

... at least to me.

A little over a month ago, I wrote a post titled, "This Might Be the Most Important Post I Have Ever Written".  That was probably not the brightest idea I ever had for a title.  I wrote about some of my struggles from the previous month, and then I entered into a new one.  The past month has been overwhelming, again, and I am relatively sure there are a few things I could share that would be of much greater importance than my thoughts from my earlier post, many of which are a direct result of the things that I discussed (or did not discuss, as the case may be) related to the post, itself.

I remember being almost obsessed with the concept of the "dark night of the soul" in my early 20s.  I am sure it never occurred to me that a person could experience a dark month... or two... or longer...  But it's been really dark here.

I was going to write that there have been external circumstances that have contributed to this, but then it occurred to me that the very idea is, at least most likely, very wrong.  There have been external circumstances, no doubt, but the more I consider it, the more I think they are actually symptoms of a much worse internal conflict.  I have, quite literally, made myself sick.  I cannot remember the last time I had a good night's sleep.  My stress level is just skyrocketing, and I'm putting this pressure on myself.  No one else is at fault.  I am the problem.  And I hate that.  And I need a stronger word than hate, because that just didn't cut it.

I have never been any good at lying.  I am a prophet.  Not the kind of prophet who foresees the future (at least not consistently, but that's another thought for another day... or never...) but the kind of prophet who tells the truth.  Multiple stories with great entertainment value have been written about characters who are "cursed" with the inability to lie.  I have to imagine those stories are so much funnier if they're not your own.  But I've learned to live with it - this painful desire to tell everyone about everything that is wrong with the world, cynicism, and this painful desire to tell everyone about everything that is right with the world, which is sometimes worse.  I've learned to live with it by mostly being silent.  "Live" might be too strong a word here.

In order to protect myself, I have also learned some moderately valuable tricks such as tact, sarcasm, and nuance.  I'm much better at sarcasm and nuance than tact, but I can pull even that one out of the bag if I have to, most of the time.  Problem is, I'm exhausted - physically and mentally and emotionally and spiritually exhausted.  I can just feel it coming.  If I'm not very careful, words are going to start spewing out of my mouth (and, very likely, my fingertips) that I can never get back.  And then what?

I am working really hard, right now, to find the proper way to move forward by speaking the truth in love.  I was going to say, "see Ephesians 4:15," but you know what, just see Ephesians 4.  All of it.  I was reminded the other day that, "There can be no way forward but through prayer".  This is truth.  I can speak this.  And I can do this.

And so, even in this meandering post, God has been working.  God is working.  I don't want anyone to misunderstand.  The time for eternal silence and censorship has ended.  I'm not afraid to speak the truth.  But I need to make sure I am centered precisely on the truth that God would have me to speak "for such a time as this".  See Esther 4:14.  Or, you know, just the whole book.

Pray for me.  I am praying.

L.

An Open Letter to the President and Trustees of NNU...

Well, there's been a lot of letter writing going on!  I'm going to add mine to the pile.  Below you can find the text of the letter I have written to the president and trustees of NNU, regarding the dismissal of Dr. Tom Oord:

April 8^th, 2015

To Dr. David Alexander, President of Northwest Nazarene University, and to the NNU Board Of Trustees:

My name is Lisa Michaels.  I am an alumnus of NNU, having graduated in 2014 with an M.A. in Spiritual Formation, and I am also a current student, working toward the M.Div. through the Graduate Theological Online Education program.  

I am writing to you concerning Tom Oord's dismissal from NNU.  As a previous student of Tom's and a friend, I do not always agree with 100% of what he has to say, but that's not the point. Tom is an example of a brilliant theologian who has spent countless hours in study and thought, considering seriously who God is and what that means in regard to spiritual formation.  He has been gracious in imparting knowledge to others, while living a life of love. I learned so much from Tom in the class I had with him at NNU, even though our understanding of theology is not identical.  In fact, I probably learned so much, because of this diversity . Never did I feel like I had to conform to everything he believed in order to have respectful, engaging, intelligent, and thought provoking dialogue. We need professors like this, and just people like this, who are willing to ask the tough questions and to allow them to be asked. 

In recent days, the Church of the Nazarene has faced several situations that have been handled without the integrity or transparency that should be reasonably expected from people in leadership positions who claim that holiness is our distinctive doctrine.  What is holiness if it is not love for God and love for others? 

I do not claim to know all of the details that accompanied this decision, but it is my understanding that after twelve years of faithful service, a tenured professor with senior status was laid off, via e-mail, while on vacation.  This is not love.  It is also my understanding that this was done at least somewhat unilaterally, without the full input or support of the director of the GTOE program.  I do not have any inside information in this regard, but I cannot understand how Tom Oord would be the faculty member who was chosen to be dismissed based solely on enrollment and budget concerns, if the proper communication had been in place.  

Further, it is my understanding that the original purpose of our Nazarene schools was for them to be places in which those called to ministry could develop in such a way as to spread the gospel.  If there is a decrease in enrollment in the graduate theological program, perhaps we should be considering why this is so, as opposed to dismissing someone who is passionate about nurturing this call in his students.  I wonder if the program could benefit from more resources as opposed to less.  In the financial plan that was laid out in the letter you sent, it appears that the intent is to use a large portion of the reallocated funds for marketing.  Does it really make any sense to market for a program that will be weaker because of this faculty change?  Or is the marketing for other programs?  Perhaps programs that you find more important than sound theological education?  Those of us who are pouring thousands of dollars every school year into NNU's school of theology deserve an answer to these questions.   

Dr. Alexander, there are many people who are concerned that this decision was made based on your personal vendetta, and the evidence, in tandem with your lack of response, points to this.  I think it is possible that you expected this decision to be met with approval, because, perhaps, the loudest voices surrounding you have been those who wish for the Church of the Nazarene to devolve into another branch of the fundamentalist/reformed movement.  Perhaps those of us who have seen this happening in our own local contexts have been quiet for too long.  You are mistaken if you think it is the majority of Nazarenes who favor these kinds of changes.  Rest assured, we are not going to be silent any longer.

I love the Church of the Nazarene.  I love NNU.  It is my school.  If I'm completely honest, it is my dream to one day be on staff there, or at least it was until this past week.  Now the thought is a little frightening.  Of course, I understand that as soon as I click "send" on this message, my name will probably disappear from the hiring process in which I have been involved over the past two months.  But there are things that are more important than self interest.  If there is one thing I have learned, above all else, through my time at NNU, it is to embrace this quote from Robert Mulholland's book, Invitation to a Journey, "Spiritual formation is a process of being conformed to the image of Christ for the sake of others."  This is how the Church of the Nazarene needs to be evolving.  This kind of love is what Tom Oord teaches.  I fully support Tom Oord, and I am asking that you do whatever it takes to seriously consider the voices of those who want nothing less than to see our denomination embracing love.

Sincerely,

Lisa Michaels