Thank you to my support crew

Last night, right before we rushed off to the circus, I arrived home from local pastor licensing school, where I had been since Sunday night. Licensing school is just a fancy name for Methodist ministry boot camp. From 7:45 a.m. to after 10 p.m. we were immersed in knowledge and relationship building with others pursing ministry goals in the UMC. We stayed at Stillwater Lodge, a Methodist retreat center located on the Paluxy River in Glen Rose.

For me, just arriving at Licensing School was a feat. Our classes were in two separate sessions, a weekend, then six days at home and five days there. Just before I left the first time, our sweet 13 year old Yorkie, Wesley Eugene, seemed to be on his deathbed and my childcare relief was stranded at Carswell AFB with a broken down car. I rushed to the vet, left Wesley in Doggie ICU, and met up with Mama Joy, our 80 year young friend who enjoys playing with the children. Since I left in chaos, I returned to chaos, and vowed to spend my six days home cleaning and organizing for when I was gone for part II.

I left the house Sunday afternoon with a two-page, ten-point-type written list of instructions about how to survive while I was gone. I had stocked the pantry with all the kids' favorites and simple meals Claire, age 9, could cook for lunch and dinner. The plan was to have our sweet babysitter, Gabby, watch them during the day and Adam, of course, take care of things at night.

I am proud of them. They didn't watch too much TV, they learned new things, the house looks normal, and they all survived, even Wesley Eugene. (In fact, I think Wesley put on 3 lbs while I was gone, making him a chubby 7-pounder.) There was a fire in the kitchen, but the kitchen didn't catch fire. Gabby took them to church for children's activities and to the library for books. She's been babysitting for us since Paul was an infant and I am so grateful to leave the children in her loving, qualified hands.

My husband, Adam, and I have different gifts and roles in the running of the household. Mostly, he takes care of everything outside of the house and I take care of everything in the house. He takes care of bills and I take care of babies. I had never been away from home for this long, so he definitely had to move outside of his comfort zone to pick up the slack while I was gone. I am so grateful for him and his patience with me as I pursue a life path that none of us planned. I certainly couldn't successfully balance all the duties in my life without his anchor balancing me out and keeping me grounded.

Licensing school for me was a gift in itself. Stillwater Lodge is beautiful and I made friends with the manager, who constantly provided everything all of us needed. A queen bed to myself and a jacuzzi bathtub. Beautiful scenery and a small beach where I wiggled my toes in the sand. Stars. That was beautiful and I will be savoring the images for a while.

The beach

We had a grueling schedule of classes. We were on task, with breaks for meals and leg-stretching, from about 7:45 a.m. to after 10 p.m. almost every night. That sounds intimidating, but I felt like a dehydrated woman in the desert who has been offered water. I was trying to ingest everything all at once. All the people, all the scenes, all the knowledge, all at once. Summer is always difficult for me because I focus on the children all day and sometimes forget that I am intelligent and can have intelligent conversations. So I went from discussions of the latest Arthur episode to theologies of baptism. I went from being surrounded by children to being surrounded by adults who are passionate about the same issues I am passionate about.

Part of the week included preaching. I had never preached a sermon and was worried about this for weeks. I had practiced, I had fretted, I had let several people read my manuscript, but I still didn't feel confident. I had received encouraging words from several friends and even a firm, inspirational talk from one. I still dreaded it.

I am firm in my call to ministry. I know that God has equipped me with gifts that are useful for the church. I am constantly affirmed in my call when I get excited about planning worship or helping a team get organized to communicate their message to the congregation. I love working behind the scenes designing graphics, planning communications, listening to people share their story, helping others clarify and communicate. I love teaching Bible studies and leading prayers. I love writing about my faith and God and sharing it with others. In all that, though, I don't feel comfortable preaching.

Part of it is lack of training. I've never had any public speaking training and what I know about writing sermons came from this session and a crash course a friend was able to give me before I left. Of course I've listened to thousands, but as far as creating one, I am at a loss.

On my assigned time, I approached the podium, spoke about two words and then began crying. I couldn't do it. I dried my eyes and face, took a deep breath and tried again. I got about five words out and had to leave again. All of the sudden I was crying uncontrollably and couldn't even catch my breath. Anxiety and self-doubt was taking over. I did get through it the third time, but not without some tears during.

I share this because what happened during and after made it worth my public vulnerability. Two ladies from my group left with me and got me laughing with silly metaphors about Jesus. One taught me her personal meditation techniques and the other had me breathing through a coffee stir stick to steady my breath. Both of them sang hymns to me and encouraged me.

Afterward, I had several honest and open conversations about anxiety with another friend. That's a problem I've dealt with for a long time, but being honest about a problem like that with someone that hasn't experienced it isn't usually helpful. If you fall apart in public like that, though, it's a blessing in that it opens the door for others to share their story with you. I can't pretend I wasn't anxious because I was standing in front of a room displaying my anxiety. I do feel better knowing that other people have similar problems. Those conversations helped me feel better and more hopeful that I can become better equipped to deal with it when it arises suddenly.

So now I'm back home, full of  new knowledge, and empowered to face the future, whatever it holds. I am grateful for new friendships. I am grateful for everyone back at home who helped me get this far. I am grateful for everyone who continues to help push me forward. Enough theology, though. I've got to mop the floor.