The Story of a Garden

As part of the preamble to my Fellowship's annual stewardship campaign, a few members are asked to give a short speech on "What UU Means to Me." Since this is the first bit of writing I've done in a while, I decided to post it on my blog. This is my testimony.

~~~

Three years ago this weekend, I signed the book to become a member of the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Fredericksburg. It hardly feels like so much time has past, but they have been years filled with much laughter and growth. I would like to share with you a bit of the journey that has brought me here.

Since I was young, I was drawn to spiritual things, and have always taken my faith seriously. But a decade ago I would not have guessed the direction my path would take me. My faith journey is the story of a garden. There have been times of abundance filled with growth and fruit and long days of sunshine. And there have been fallow times—long winters, cold and dark. But always, buried in the soil, was the seed for the next season’s harvest, waiting for the right conditions to sprout forth.

I grew up in a Methodist church. My parents took us to church fairly regularly until sometime in middle school. I always longed to understand the deeper mysteries of life and to capture a lasting feeling of transcendence and oneness with God. In high school, I began searching on my own and opened myself up to the Divine. I began within the structure that I already knew—the Christian faith and the Bible.

One evening, I was overwhelmed with the feeling that Love was being poured into me, like water into a vessel, and there was so much that it was running over. This outpouring nourished my spirit and deepened my faith. My roots grew strong and I shot up towards the Sun. The Light was incredible. By holding on to my never-wavering belief in that Love, I made it through some rough times, including my first experience with major depression during my senior year in high school.

In college my faith continued to grow and mature. I joined a Christian group on campus, and later a local non-denominational church. Finding others who spoke the same language as me was comforting and confirming. I experienced synchronicities that could not be explained logically. My personal Bible study was always a step ahead of the lectures in my Old and New Testament class, and often I would be the only one in the lecture hall who could answer questions about obscure passages and references. I had a knack for giving perfect gifts—things that had been secretly wanted or needed; things that provided a strong sense of care and Love at work in that person’s life. And I was closely in tune with people’s feelings, and could sense when our Bible study group strayed from an edifying discussion to more of a dogmatic one. My body language, sometimes just a look or a slight shake of my head, signaled to our leader it was time to refocus the group. Looking back, I believe it may have been my own discomfort with some of the more dogmatic issues that allowed me to sense this feeling in others.

During this time, I had growing uneasiness with a few larger questions that seemed inconsistent with the Love that my faith was based on. What weighed most heavily on my mind was that I was being taught that faith in Jesus was the only way into heaven; that anyone who did not hear or did not accept this message would be damned. I had many friends who had rejected Christianity, some who were bitterly antagonistic on the subject, and it felt like my faith was a barrier between us. I couldn’t share that joyful part of my life with them, and it hurt to have my faith ridiculed. It also seemed clear that they had been hurt in some way by the religion and probably felt equally frustrated that people like me did not see things the way they did. Yet I loved them dearly.

The other question was whether homosexuality was a sin. I was taught that it was, but again, it did not make sense to me that God would punish people for loving, especially if sexuality was not a choice. It was difficult to face these and other questions since I had found so much joy and Truth in the Christian faith. For a long time, I left these mysteries to God. If I needed to understand, I trusted Him to show me.

There are many things that cast seeds into our life, and we in turn cast seeds into the hearts of others that we encounter. Sometimes we don’t realize the effect of our words and actions on others, but even the most casual encounter can be life-changing. Thus it was, in my life, that seeds were being planted that would later come to fruition.

One such seed planted in my life in the summer of 1997 came in the form of the movie “Contact,” which is based on a novel by Carl Sagan. Without going into too much detail, it is a moving story of Dr. Ellie Arroway, a scientist who has an incredible experience that she cannot explain but also cannot deny. For me, the message can be summed up in the few sentences spoken by Palmer Joss at the end of the movie. He says, “As a person of faith, I am bound by a different covenant than Dr. Arroway. But our goal is one and the same—the pursuit of truth.” Those words took root in my heart immediately, and helped facilitate understanding between myself and a dear but estranged friend.

In the following months, I shared my world of faith and my friend shared his world of philosophy. I learned the language of Kierkegaard, Sartre, Heidegger, and others. It started to make sense, and I even agreed with some of it. Two themes stemming from those discussions come immediately to mind; the first—that how Jesus lived was more important than how he died, and the second—that we follow our own “Christ-hood” by pursuing our true selves. In other words, living an authentic life is the path to salvation.

The idea of an authentic path as a path to God made sense to me. Even within my Christian circles, I had observed that each person still had a unique journey. Things that I felt necessary to prune from my life were not always required of others, and vice versa. People were drawn to different denominations; different ways of observing their faith. But to me this was not a conflict; we simply had different things to learn. Although I had not been able to put it into words at the time, my non-Christian friends were so dear to me in part because they were very much alive. They had the same spark inside as I did; they were following their own authenticity as I had been. We were not different, and any feeling of separateness was an illusion in our minds only. It was an illusion that I had been taught to believe, one that I was slowly beginning to reject.

After I got married (to that same philosopher friend), my husband and I settled and attended a church much like the one we had gone to in college. But due to our work schedules, we were not able to attend any of the church’s social functions and thus did not feel connected to the congregation. After about a year, we drifted away. For nearly the next five years, we were without a spiritual home. I was bereft of the community and fellowship that I loved.

Occasionally, we would gather the energy to visit a new church. At one point, all the churches we visited were doing their confirmation services. This included one rather unusual church, the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Fredericksburg. Rather than “confirmation,” each youth stood up to give a summary of their beliefs. It was a touch shocking to someone who had been as fundamentalist as I, especially as some of the statements were phrased as a rejection of Christianity specifically, the faith that had meant so much to me. But I did appreciate the freedom the children had been given to find their own way, and the acceptance of individuality they received from their parents and their community. At the end of the service, we were asked to write our advice for these young people on large posters. I took a red marker and wrote “All you need is love.” While I was not ready for the UU at that time, once again, a seed had been planted.

The next time I got the urge to make a round of different churches, they were all doing their anti-gay sermons. It was as if they had all synchronized a national agenda on the topic. The Universe was conspiring against me, it seemed. I met some lovely people, but I could not return to a place that taught that Love was wrong.

I continued to struggle with the conflict between my growing convictions and the traditional interpretation of my religion. In time, I realized what the conflict inside me really was. I was being asked to decide for myself what I believed, rather than leave these hard questions for others to explain to me, or to trust “God” with them. I had to decide for myself where I would stand.

These five years had been a very dark time for me, spiritually. It was winter, and it was a very long winter. But sometimes, seeds need a period of cold before they can germinate. And sometimes, seeds need fire. It seems that I needed both. The winter was provided to me. The fire was my own choice. I could either ignore the questions and stay where I was, in a perpetual winter of thorny branches and half-remembered whispers of joy, or I could declare my authentic convictions, and in doing so set fire to everything that I knew, waiting to see what survived. Despite my fears, I chose the fire.

The fire burned down the walls surrounding my garden; walls I had barely noticed before. The next time I visited the UUFF with friends, I knew it was home. Instead of a carefully cultivated garden, I found myself in a large meadow under a wide cerulean sky. Instead of different varieties of the same flower growing together, I saw before me a wild range of vegetation, trees, and wildflowers. It was a beautiful world of biodiversity, each organism filling a unique role. Above me, the same Sun I was so familiar with shone down upon us all.

Here I have found a place I can grow and explore without limitation. I have met so many people at the UUFF, each with Truth to share. I have found the warmth of Love and friendship. I know that no matter what challenge I face, I am supported without judgment or expectation. I am receiving tools to strengthen my body, mind, and spirit. And, in the other faith traditions that I explore here, I see reflections of the faith I once knew—Truths that are universal. Once again, my faith is being confirmed and bolstered.

I am a wildflower. I am still evolving; I am still blossoming. I still need the rain; I still reach for the Sun. And more now than ever before, I am in awe at the beauty around me.

photo by Anna Neave Crissman

~~~

Truth is one; sages call it by various names,
It is one Sun which reflects in all ponds.
It is the one water which slakes the thirst of all;
It is the one air which sustains all life.
It is the one fire which shines in all houses.

Colors of the cows may be different, but milk is white.
Flowers and bees may be different, but honey is the same.
Systems of Faith may be different, but God is One.
As the rain dropping from the sky wends its way toward the ocean,
So the prayers offered in all faiths reach the One God, who is supreme.
~Rig Veda

Emmanuel

This may be one of the strangest Christmases I have spent, in terms of breaking the traditional, expected mold of activity. Of course, after saying that I realize that my Christmases have become less traditional and more interrupted as the past few years have gone by. Some of this was by choice, but most of it from circumstance.

This Christmas Eve, on the way back from the hospital, I stopped by the church I attended when I lived in Charlotte, NC to catch the Candlelight service. It was a place where I had found a loving community, and even if my friends weren't there this night, I needed to capture part of that familiarity. I had to laugh when the pastor talked about people going to church on Christmas Eve to capture that “Christmas-y feeling,” since that was exactly why I was there. It was perhaps the only part of my Christmas that would be comfortably and predictably traditional. The swarm of shopping, tree-trimming, cookie-baking, and caroling has gone on with almost no notice from me, other than the occasional wistful glance.

The pastor went on to talk about how some people would already be thinking about getting to the "real" part of Christmas—opening presents and eating the holiday meal. For my family, I knew these would be the parts of Christmas that would be abbreviated at best, perhaps even bittersweet. This year I was 400 miles away from both home and my husband, and my sister and nephew would be stuck at the hospital rather than be able to spend the day with me, her daughter, and our parents (also in from out of state). While I love to give presents to my loved ones, we've tried to scale back on the excess in recent years. But this year, even the thought of splurging on gifts was not an option. And it turned out that I had little to no time to plan or even shop for holiday fixin's, so I dispatched my parents at the last minute to pick up a few things before the grocery stores closed on Christmas Eve.

The pastor’s final message for us on Christmas Eve was about Emmanuel—“God with us,” a baby’s birth bringing hope to mankind. Never before has my Christmas been so centered around a baby’s birth as this year, making the message especially poignant. Just over a week prior I had the privilege of witnessing the birth of my nephew, cutting his umbilical cord, and watching him take his first peek at his mother. After my sister was released, there were still daily trips from her home in SC to the hospital in uptown Charlotte since the little one was scheduled for heart surgery a week before Christmas. It still amazes me the miracles doctors can perform, especially on the tiny, delicate frame of a newborn child. He is recovering well, and on Christmas Eve moved to a transition unit where his mother stays with him 24 hours a day. They will be there for another week or so.

The innocence of that child is a wonder to behold. He reacts to the world, crying only from hunger, pain, or discomfort, not encumbered by the false expectations and fears of the adults around him. He knows and is calmed by his mother’s voice, and watches her with eyes transfixed. He is Emmanuel, as we each are, holding inside the promise of the Christ child. He evokes in us the highest emotion—that of a pure and all-encompassing Love. What a gift indeed if we too, could become like the little children we used to be--trusting, curious, loving, imaginative, and free. If we could only approach each other without suspicion and without guile; if we could only love each other without reservation. When we all look at the world through the lens of that Love, then we will truly find God with us.

Love has come--a light in the darkness! Love explodes in the Bethlehem skies.
See, all heaven has come to proclaim it. Hear how their song of joy arises:
Love! Love! Born unto you, a Savior! Love! Love! Glory to God on high!

Love is born! Come share in the wonder. Love is God now asleep in the hay.
See the glow in the eyes of His mother. What is the name her heart is saying?
Love! Love! Love is the name she whispers. Love! Love! Jesus, Immanuel.

Love has come--He never will leave us! Love is life everlasting and free.
Love is Jesus within and among us. Love is the peace our hearts are seeking.
Love! Love! Love is the gift of Christmas. Love! Love! Praise to You, God on high!

I have a new nephew!

And he now has his own blog!!

Preston Dean's Diary

This is where I am

I'm out of state, to help my sister, who, within the week, will have a newborn son. With my emotional, financial, and physical energy reserves much lower than I would like, I'm certainly not helping as much as I feel I should. I think about that, then I decide not to feel guilty. This is where I am. Plus, the main reason for me to be here is to be with her in the hospital during the birth, and I absolutely know that I will accomplish that. And, I'm having fun hanging out with my teenage niece and helping her with homework--hey, something I'm good at!

I struggle with what to write here at times, because the depression and the heavy handful of life issues I'm dealing with overshadow so much. No one else wants to hear about this again, I think. But you know what? This is where I'm at, daggone* it. And, this is my dadblum* blog. (*Substitute profane language.) I need to talk about this, for myself. So those that seem to be avoiding me (could be my own paranoia) because it's all I have to talk about can just get over* themselves.

But there always seems to be the right people there at the right time. Have you noticed that? None of us can be everything to everyone, so we can only do what we can when we can. (In other words, I need to remember that those people are dealing with their own crap* too.) On this trip, I've been able to catch up with a few close friends, and update them with where I'm at. My friend/manager from my last job in NC, now the owner of the same store, took me out to the Macaroni Grill last week and I was able to discuss all of this with him in length. Another friend from my old church, a very wise and compassionate lady, was able to empathize from her own experience. In both cases I felt buoyed up by their love and understanding. It's like having two more lifelines, rather than putting the stress on just a few. I love all of my lifelines--your compassion is phenomenal.

I feel like I'm starting to open myself up, too. Open up my heart so people can really know me. I've become adept at hiding my cards until I'm sure there's a good chance that someone will reciprocate. Exploring my personality issues, and also being 'out there' with my opinions on things, even when it's controversial, is helping me to open my heart. After all, life is too short to hold back. My 'natural' reserve may simply be a defense mechanism I picked up early in life. While I may have needed it then for my own survival, I need to shed it now in order for my authentic self to survive. I have a heart so full of love and passion that it's blinding. If I continue to hold that in, I will smother the fire.

Recently, I followed a sentimental urge to email a very old friend. We're still peripherally in touch but don't keep in close contact these days. I laid it all out on the line, and was quite on edge waiting for a reply. But it was out there; I did what I had to do. Once I let go of it, out of the blue I got a reply. And it will be a letter I will treasure forever. Following my sentimental urge helped speed healing in two hearts. Meanwhile, I found out that there's a good likelihood that another person in my past is lurking on my blog . They certainly have access to as they are now friends with someone very close to me on one of those social networking sites. After learning about this, months after the fact, I stressed over what to 'do' for about a week, and finally I let go and did the only thing I can do given the situation. I opened myself up and made my page public so they can lurk all they want. After all, I have never wanted to erase their memory, and this may be the only way to invite them back into my life.

When all else fails, and there's no one around, there's nothing better than music to soothe the soul. I love that wherever I go, where I have online access I can play my playlist.com music selections. (I also stole hubby's iPod for this trip too, which is great where there's no free WiFi in the area to suckle off of.) An hour of Mason, an hour of U2, followed by a mishmash of my other favorite musicians. I can zone out, relax, even nap and still wake up to the wildly sweet sedative medley of my heart.