SortaCrunchy

Must Know, Must Remember: BlogHer 11

photo with permission from something's hiding in here on flickr

When I was a teenager, I spent at least one week (sometimes two) of every summer at a Baptist youth camp tucked into the Arbuckle Mountains of Oklahoma. The pinnacle of each day at camp was the evening service in the open air tabernacle. What made it the high point of the day? The energy manifest by thousands of teenagers shouting Jesus cheers at each other before the service started? The experience of communal worship? The mighty-fine preaching of one Come To Jesus sermon after another?

Oh, bless it. No, my dears. It was dressing up and showing off of all of our finest. We would sweat through the muggy days in triple digit heat, allowed to wear shorts only if they skimmed the tops of our knees, and then when evening fell, we would make a post-dinner mad dash to shower and apply a full face of make-up and put on our very, very cutest outfits because It. Was. Tabernacle.

Pretty spiritual, right?

In the weeks leading up to camp week, I would deliberate carefully over my wardrobe choices, making sure to pick the perfect outfit for each evening. The strongest impression I have of the memory of those evenings is that without fail, I would get dressed up and dolled up every evening, only to discover that everyone - everyone! - looked better than me. The very best that I brought from home - it was never enough.

* * * * *

I feel like I should say something about going to BlogHer next week because not saying something might convey that I am rather blase about the whole thing. And I am not. I am the antithesis of blase. I'm practically vibrating with excitement.

From the moment I found out that I was receiving a conference ticket - amazingly, serendipitously, providentially - from Discovery Communications, I've been reading everything BlogHer in sight. I've read fashion posts and what to expect posts (the Hollywood Housewife pulled no punches on that one!) and logistics posts and just ... everything.

As I clicked from post to post, from blog to blog, from Twitter profile to Twitter profile, I sensed that Old Ugly nipping at my heels. Jealousy. Stupid, ridiculous waste of time Jealousy. Old Enemy, it is so not good to see you again.

Many years have passed since my evenings spent in the Tabernacle at camp, and I would like to think I know a little better now about what to do when Jealousy starts throwing shade. I do know now that it's not enough to cram my fingers in my ears and la-la-la-I-can't-hear-you when the Old Ugly starts snipping at me about what others have that I do not. I know now that I have look her right in the eye and tell her the truth. And the truth is that

All that I have is more than enough.

It was true when I was seventeen, but I didn't have the courage or the confidence to believe it then. But I do now.

So when a situation at BlogHer leads to Jealousy stepping in to remind me of someone else's subscriber numbers or ad campaigns or famous friends or whatever silly distraction she offers me, I will repeat my mantra: all that I have is more than enough. It is. I know that with everything within me.

Of all of the posts I've read on preparing for BlogHer, these resonated the most deeply for me:

Kludgy Mom: BlogHer '11: Get Over It

Am I A Funny Girl? : Getting Zen About BlogHer

Ramble Ramble: The Obligatory Pre-BlogHer11 Post

Little Miss Mocha: What Should You Bring to a Conference?

My only expectation of BlogHer at this point is to get to hang out with Laura until she is absolutely sick to death of me, hug some necks (or, for the more stand-off-ish, shake some hands), and escape the miserable heat here for a few days. (I nearly licked the screen when I saw this!) And that is enough. And I have enough. And I am enough.

Responsible to the (Changing) Calling

photo by Queen Naveen

We are continuing our celebration of responsible this month, and I am honored to share with you some thoughts from Leigh Kramer on what it means to be responsible to your calling, even if that calling changes as time passes:

A person's calling might change over time.

When I worked as a hospice social worker, I was convinced it was what I was meant to do. When
my great-aunt and, subsequently, my grandmother required my organization's services, I took the
unfortunate events as affirmation. My family grew to understand my work in a more intimate way. I
was honored to shepherd them through that time, though not without personal cost.

Still, when my then-coworkers anxiously worried I would quit as a result of my mourning, I reassured
them that this is where I was meant to be. I had no intention of quitting and was surprised by their
concerns.

My family soldiered through back-to-back losses and life continued on. A year or so later, I wondered
if they were right. I was no longer sure that hospice was my calling. Perhaps I had been there “for such
a time as this.”

Meanwhile I pictured the rest of my life continuing on just as it was. I didn't like what I saw.

I had a choice. Take action or let life meander by.

It wasn't like I had a bad life. I didn't hate my job. I was surrounded by friends and family. Church
was good. The White Sox weren't back to the 2005 World Series Champion glory days but they were
doing all right. Everything was fine. Yet I didn't feel fine.

Several years ago a boy, in the midst of pursuing me, told me that God was going to do great things
through my life. This bold statement was not part of his wooing process- and the relationship was
ultimately doomed- but it stuck with me. I've wondered in the intervening years how God would use
me, whether this moment was it or something greater than I could ever ask or imagine still lies ahead.

His words might have tucked away in a corner of my mind but a few years ago, a woman I met at a
conference said the same thing. I knew my calling was metamorphosing by that time. But I didn't know
what would come next.

How could God use me? What else might I do? Were my lifelong dreams and wishes a part of that
equation?

While I pray over my decisions, I believe that a time comes when we must use the minds God gave
us and make a choice. I was no longer content to live in this “in between” space. Working but
feeling unfulfilled. Longing for dreams that might not ever be realized. Surrounded by good things
but realizing it wasn't enough. And at the heart of all that, recognizing that I did not live in enough
dependence on God.

I free-fell last spring. That's not entirely accurate. Perhaps I've been free-falling this whole year. If I
hadn't dared to move to Nashville last year, I likely would not dare what I do now.

In the background since childhood has been my little hope of being an author some day. A person
who writes stories that people love to read. In the years that I've been blogging, but especially the last
couple of years, I've found myself filled with stories again. Characters that won't leave me alone, that
beg me to write.

And so I have been. But writing in stolen moments when I wasn't exhausted from work is no longer
enough. While my choice would not be everyone's, I'm grateful I'm in a position to quit my day job
and run hard after this dream of mine.

In the month leading up to my last day of work and in the few weeks that have followed, affirmation
after affirmation has followed.

I can't say that social work is no longer my calling for good. Right now it's enough that my calling is to
write and to see where it takes me.

This season also opens my life to be available for others in a way that I wasn't before. Maybe another
opportunity lurks around the corner. Maybe not.

For now, I take this dream one step at a time. All that is required of me is to write. Whether you see
my name in print one day will not be confirmation of my calling.

My calling is confirmed with each word I put on the page.

In May 2010, Leigh Kramer intentionally uprooted her life in the Chicago suburbs by moving to Nashville in an effort to live more dependently on God.  She writes about life in the South, what God has been teaching her, and her ongoing quest for the perfect fried pickle. You can follow her adventures on Twitter and her blog HopefulLeigh.

Resources to Guide Responsible Living

Becoming the Answers to our Prayers, Common Prayer, June

DON'T PANIC. These are the first words in Julie Clawson's Everyday Justice.

She references these words made immortal by the vintage cover of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy with good reason: the journey into responsible living can lead to major feelings of being overwhelmed.

Although I've always flirted with do-gooder type ways, it wasn't until I read Jonathan Merritt's Green Like God that I made the connection between Save The Earth and Save The People Of Earth. He makes the statement that "we often fail to connect consumerism to creation's woes, but when you find one, the other is not far away" (129). Throughout the book, he shows how irresponsible views and treatments of our planet inevitably affect people, too. People who, like you and me, are image bearers of the Creator.

After I read Green Like God, I wanted to discover more about what it meant to live out socially-just living in the context of family. And yes, Julie is right. Once your eyes are opened to the effect our purchases have on the people who made those purchases possible - yeah, some freak-out and panic is going to happen. There is just so much! And I am just one person!

uniting with the like-minded

Aliza Joy now: Almost 4 Aliza Joy then: six months old and sporting Becca Bottoms AIO. Look at her face. Is that not classic AJ?

Five years ago, I was a new blogger. I had a precious toddler and an addiction to all things cloth diapering. The first series I ever ran here at SortaCrunchy was on cloth diapering - the ins and outs of it, all our favorite brands, troubleshooting, the whole thing. I was a true cloth diaper hobbyist back then - I was active on message boards, I stalked Hyena Carts, I was a tester for bumGenius 1.0, y'all! I was in the thick of it!

Sleep Deprivation is No Joke

photo courtesy of Critical Moss

It doesn't happen often, but every now and again my brain fights hard against my body and refuses to go to sleep on time. The 5 o'clock wake-up call is cruel when you were still tossing and turning at 1:30 AM. That was me yesterday, stumbling through the day on just a few hours of sleep, walking through molasses to get through the day.

The upside of the no-more-naps season of parenting is that everyone sleeps at night pretty wonderfully now. Sure, sometimes one of the girls will appear at my bedside, shaken from sleep by a bad dream and needing a gentle tucking-in redux, but mostly we enjoy uninterrupted snoozing hours.

Yesterday's walk through a not enough sleep haze brought a tangible reminder of those groggy new baby days.

A few weeks ago on Twitter, someone I follow was recounting the story of visiting friends who had just brought home a newborn. This mama told of how upset she was to try to sit and visit with her friends as they allowed their five day old infant to cry it out to go to sleep.

All the Days of Our Lives: Responding to Our Ezer Calling

photo courtesy oedipusphinx

Last spring, I wrote about the powerful impact Carolyn James's Half the Church has had on my life. To me, one of the most important concepts in the entire book is her thorough investigation and revelation of the significance of ezer-kenegdo - the person that the Trinity conspired to create in response to the observation that it is not good for man to be alone.

Smack dab in the middle of the book is James's chapter "The Ezer Unbound." I wish there was a way every single one of you could read this entire chapter. James is a leading scholar on the interpretation and application of the opening chapters of Genesis, and every single paragraph in this chapter is packed with startling insight. I'm going to do my best to tip-toe around copyright infringement to share some of the highlights.

7 Quick Takes: is it better late? edition

7 Quick Takes:

1. I am fully aware that 7QT publishes on Friday at Conversion Diary. I am fully aware that it is, in fact, Saturday. I am fully, fully behind on everything, everywhere, in every sense of the word. I need to borrow this form letter for unmet expectations from Kristen at Rage Against the Minivan.

2. If we are Facebook friends or you follow me on Instagram, you know the picture above is over a week old. See #1.

3. All the Harry Potter buzz is making me very sad that I've never read the books. I've been avoiding all media like crazy in a wildly vain attempt to keep myself un-spoilered.

4. I am getting VERY super excited about BlogHer. Related: I need to buy some Spanx or a similar tummy-slimming apparatus to continue to punish myself years of sloth. Suggestions?

5. Google+ - what say you? I have a whole tab cluster in my Firefox browser with at least six articles devoted to explaining how to get started. It sounds like it takes some time to get started. Time that I don't have. See #1. (But also, see this post from the ever-lovely Gretchen of Lifenut for some newbie pointers!)

6. Installed the Kindle app on my phone and finally read Tina Fey's Bossypants. I could not possibly love her anymore than I do at this moment in time.

7. What's more drought than drought? Because that's us. And unending, blistering heat, too. Is there anything good and pure and lovely happening outside where you are? Tell me about it before I am forced to end my long-term romance with Summer forever . . .

 

creating summer: bits of inspiration #3

This morning, AJ stumbled into the kitchen, scalp flinging curls and disarray, chubby fists pressed to reluctant eyes.

Me: Good morning! I missed you while you were sleeping!

AJ: Did you hear me? I was singing.

Me: No, I didn't hear you singing. Where were you singing?

AJ: Under the covers.

Me: What were you singing?

AJ: half bashful, half triumphant) A new song!

I just never cease to be amazed that all I need to know about creative living, I learn from my children. I just keep coming back to Madeline L'Engle's words again and again this summer. As AJ let me in on the secret of where her song composition and performance had already taken place in the pre-sunrise hours of today, I thought about Ms. L'Engle's passage from Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art :

Jesus told his friends and disciples over and over again that no only were they to let the little children come to him but that they were to be like little children themselves. When we are like little children, with the openness the child has up until the age of school, then we retain our ability to be creators, our willingness to be open, to believe.

. . .

Creativity opens us to revelation, and when our high creativity is lowered to 2 percent, so is our capacity to see angels, to walk on water, to talk with unicorns. In the act of creativity, the artist lets go of the self-control which he normally clings to and is open to riding the wind. Something almost always happens to startle us during the act of creating, but no unless we let go our adult intellectual control and become as open as little children. This means not to set aside or discard the intellect but to understand that this is not to become a dictator, for when it does we are closed off from revelation.

I am responsible to that inner three year old and six year old and eight year old and all the ages that have come before when I was open to the whims of the Muse of childhood.

So here's to more composing and singing of new songs, even and especially that which is performed in secret.

 

one last month

That pretty lady right there starts First Grade in less than one month.

You'll forgive a little quiet, I'm sure ... I'm trying to figure out how to be responsible with these days that are evaporating before my eyes.

Give: RESPONSIBLE

greek yogurt and local raw honey, which honestly doesn't have much to do with anything other than it makes me happy

Aliza Joy woke up too early this morning, as is her habit. At 5:15 she stumbled into our room where I was awake and sipping coffee and reading. Well. That simply will not work, not that early. So I turned off the lamp and pulled her into bed with me. With my arm wrapped around her, I could feel how long and full and slender she is becoming. So Big Kid.

When we were away last month, Kyle and I were visiting with one of Kyle's mentor-type friends who was watching the girls as they ran around with the other kids there, hyper and cuckoo and wired as children will be at grown-up gatherings. Kyle's friend remarked that "from now on, they'll remember everything, and it will be so much fun." His girls are grown and gone and ours are here and now.

As I snuggled with AJ this morning, I thought about how I am responsible for guiding them in to the memories that will take them through the rest of their  years on this planet. Not solely responsible for creating those memories - that's too much. No, rather I am responsible for setting the stage upon which their childhood will be acted out.

* * * * *

All  year, I've been focusing on GIVE. It probably goes without saying that last month's theme was CREATE. And we are still creating summer because it is still very much summer, but now my focus is shifting to responsible. Which, on the surface, can be kind of a bummer word, right?

Poor Responsible. Always the word that gets called on to guilt someone into doing The Right Thing. Responsible is the one you give Side Eyes to, and then you sigh, and then you do the thing you didn't want to do but you had to because, well, it was the responsible thing to do.

(or is it just me?)

This month, I want to let Responsible off the hook a little bit. I want to sit down with her and thank her for all the good that she does in the world, all the good that she does in my life. I want her to know that she is good and appreciated and necessary.

I want to focus on the best parts of responsibility in my life - in the tangible and intangible alike.

So this month, I'm throwing a party for Responsible, complete with cupcakes and confetti. I think it's time to celebrate her good work. Don't you?