Wrong Number?

I have been thinking a lot in the last few days about the situation that led me to start this blog in the first place: feeling called to pursue the ministry - specifically, as a Unitarian Universalist minister.

How do you know if you've been called? What does it feel like? What happens if you ignore it? Or think you were called but you weren't? Or were but just felt like it was really bad timing?

Another woman at my church, when I told her I had felt called one day during services at the Fellowship, said, "What did it feel like?" She said she asked because she had also felt called and yet wasn't sure she had interpreted it correctly. So she wanted to sort of compare experiences or hear what mine had been in order to contextualize her own.

My guess is, everyone has a different story. While they may have similarities (like so many religions), every person's experience will be affected by his or her filters, perceptions, beliefs, expectations, and interpretations... leading to a myriad of strikingly different but no less valid events leading to a shared conclusion.

And then there are people like me, who know they felt something (maybe even felt it was undeniable), and then rationally look at the prospect of following such a path and find it riddled with complexities and challenges. Not a bad thing, but definitely a harder thing.

My friend who is a pastor described her experience as hearing God directly communicating to her and telling her to go into the ministry. I would have to say, my experience contained no direct talking, no clear detailed instructions, and no sense that any one entity was singling me out and pointing with a divine finger toward a new and spiritually-laden horizon.

Instead, it felt more like an epiphany... an ah ha moment wherein so many heretofore disconnected and seemingly disjointed pieces of my life suddenly settled into a clear and beautiful picture wherein I could see myself... see myself... true and clear and defined and being.

Then my minister recommended I pursue anything else that might make me happy, my husband and I really sat down and looked at the numbers, and my daughter got to an age I knew I would painfully regret missing if I were engaged in pursuits that took me away from her for several more years of schooling.

Add in the fact that we do not attend church every week, I don't read every Unitarian Universalist piece of literature I can get my hands on, I score highest on Lifestyle when taking any kind of values inventory, and I left theatre because I was sick of working nights and weekends... and I'm left wondering if it's okay to pick up the phone, have a short conversation, and then pretend like you aren't home.

A Request

We didn't go to church today. Too much to do in preparation for a visit from Papa Gallo and the generally disjointed and hectic feel of summer has kept us away for several weeks now.

This caused me some minor sadness at missing services yet again, but I did not think much of it until we were in the car on our way home from Flamm Orchards this afternoon and Andy told me about the shooting this morning in Tennessee. It was a Unitarian Universalist church in Knoxville.

Although I have been surprised and upset to hear of every church shooting that has occurred recently (and there have been frighteningly many), this one hit me harder because it was my faith. My chosen venue of worship. And so, in a sense, my people--even though I don't personally know any of them. I still feel connected through our faith, our principles, and our fellowships.

It happened at 10:15am this morning, which is exactly the time we usually leave to attend our church. At that time of morning at the Fellowship, people are usually all over the building - talking in the common room, finding seats in the fellowship hall before worship officially starts, taking excited children to RE classes and chatting with other members about summer activities. It is an atmosphere of peace, love, warmth, and connection. I am guessing the Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church is very similar.

As of writing this, one person has died and eight people are in serious to critical condition at the hospital. They have a suspect in custody, and the community is banding together to support those affected by the violence.

Please, if you would, keep them in your thoughts and prayers. I have no doubts they could use your blessings.

Exercise

In this new phase of seeking to live more intentionally and fully, Andy and I have decided to increase our exercise and to start trying to find ways we can incorporate exercise and physical activity as a family.

Step 1: Buy a seat for the back of Andy's bike.
Step 2: Make sure everyone has a helmet.
Step 3: Get going!

Tonight we rode around our neighborhood and over by the Fellowship, and tomorrow we plan to institute a new morning routine wherein neither of us sleeps in, but we exercise together instead. This will be in addition to the Windsor Pilates exercises my friend Melinda showed me and that I've been trying to do each morning (despite excited interference from Ariana and Simon!).

There is nothing quite so wonderful as feeling the ache of muscles long dormant... that painful, bright, sharp sense of pushing your body to grow stronger. With it's trickling but steady return to my life, I feel more hopeful, stronger, and more alive - and a great sense of gratitude that such activity is possible.

Woven

I found out shortly after writing my post yesterday that a death has touched our Fellowship. I don't feel comfortable giving details, but I think everyone - even those who don't know the family really well - are heartsick.

It's amazing, in ways that can be both joyous and sorrowful, how becoming a member of a church or fellowship can expand and change your experience, because it extends your "family." Suddenly, you are interconnected to hundreds more lives, and their happinesses and sadnesses weave with your own.

Sometimes I think it's helpful to formally extend prayers or blessings to others. A way of moving thought, to word, to action. And so... this is my chance to pray for their peace and comfort. If you feel comfortable doing such things for strangers, then perhaps you can too.