SortaCrunchy

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!

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.

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.

 

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?

 

SortaCrunchy Recommends: Visionary Mom's Make A Plan Workshop

I think there's something about speaking out loud about that what you are struggling with that invites answers into your life.

Less than a week ago, I opened up about my need for space and lack of direction and wondering what I was doing here. Two incredible resources have come my way since then, and I am thrilled to share the first of these two with you today.

Many of you may know Lisa Work of Visionary Mom. As her tagline says, Visionary Mom is a place of celebrating the idea that "motherhood + big time dreaming = YOU being awesome!" To that end, she has created workshops, classes, personal/life coaching, retreats, and many other services to inspire moms to actively pursue our dreams, even (and especially!) from the day-to-day trenches of motherhood.  (You can read more about what Visionary Mom is about here.)

Lisa has just released a new workshop and this one is set-up DIY style: the Make A Plan workshop!

Because she knows that all of us have a dream we would like to pursue, and because she knows how easy it is for mamas to either shelve their dreams for That Great Someday or just give up on our dreams altogether, she knows what we all need is a tangible way to reach and grab those dreams from the billowy clouds and stake them into the ground where they can take root and flourish.

This is what the Make A Plan workshop is about. She generously provided me with a pass to the workshop to check it out, and I love what I am finding there. The basis for the workshop is a 42 page workbook that is friendly, approachable, and consistent in providing practical direction for pursuing your dream. The worksheets lead you to pin down your dream and translate that into a working vision. They also deal with the nitty-gritty of creating measurable goals, dealing with procrastination and resistance, making space (love!) and time for doing the work of pursuing a dream, and keeping up the momentum to the finish.

Additionally, Lisa has created ten videos that are all ten minutes or less to offer inspiration and motivation as you work through the workbook.  AND included in the workshop are email reminders to help you stay the course as well as unlimited email support from Lisa herself!

As I shared last week, I've been feeling in so many ways that I haven't kept up with the growth in my life in the past few years and this has left me blinking with questions about my purpose while carrying around the weight of direction-less living. Truly, this workshop is turning up new ground for me, and I feel so re-energized already!

Lisa's heart is for mothers everywhere and not only did she offer me a pass to the workshop, she wants to give a pass to a SortaCrunchy reader as well! I have held off on completing the workshop because I would love to work through these pages together with one of my readers.

To enter to win access to the Make A Plan workshop, simply leave a comment answering this question: What do you dream of doing with your life?

 

BONUS ENTRIES - LEAVE ONE COMMENT PER BONUS ENTRY or they don't count!

1) Like Visionary Mom on Facebook
2) Link to this workshop review and giveaway on Facebook
3) Tweet about this workshop review and giveaway. Sample tweet: For moms who have a dream and need a plan, the MAP workshop from @Lisa_Work looks great! (via @SortaCrunchy): http://bit.ly/llHa5x
4) Share on other social networking service of your choice (just tell me which one)

Giveaway open to anyone, anywhere! Giveaway closes and winner will be announced here Tuesday, May 24th. Best wishes!

Give: SPACE

One of my favorite places to be in all of this country is San Marcos, Texas. My father is an alum of Texas State University (it was Southwest Texas State back then), and woven into the spoken history of my family are stories of the cold, cold waters of the San Marcos river and walking to class up hills so steep your calves ached and Manske rolls delivered to dorm rooms during Finals Week by sorority girls who were fundraising instead of studying.

What delight when Life moved Kyle and I there in 2004. My dad was thrilled and we fell in love with that little town on the edge of the Hill Country. What happy times we had! Two bundles of pink born there and countless memories as well.  Three years ago this month, we packed and moved and left pieces of our hearts on The Square and at the park and in the springs.

And so I can speak with tenderness of the one thing that always drove me a little bit crazy about San Marcos: the city's infrastructure lags way behind its growth. It stutters and blinks at the fact that the university enrollment has swelled to over 30,000 students while the city itself continues to grow as the I-35 corridor from Austin south to San Antonio blurs into one long stretch of population.

These leads to rat's nests of traffic snarls desperate for detangler and all the other frustrating symptoms of a town that throbs with overcrowding. From the university officials on "the hill" to the city leadership, the initiative toward moving at a pace that matched growth was languid and lethargic.

Why share all of this with you today? Because it's a pretty accurate picture of how I'm feeling.

My life has changed drastically since I published my first post here. Back then, I was a coaching widow with a mouse and a keyboard as company most evenings. I had a tiny toddler who napped long and luxuriously. I had lots to say and the space to say it. With just a handful of readers (most of whom were friends), I could veer off-topic or soapbox without hesitation or publish nothing for weeks on end.

For reasons that are absolutely inexplicable to me, the readership here has swelled to over 2000 and that makes me feel a little claustrophobic. That number is as astronomical as it is mysterious and it has a completely paralytic effect on me.

My infrastructure groans under the weight.

Now I have a husband who is home (home!) for lunch and for dinner and for evenings spent together. The chubby-cheeked toddler who inspired my start in this space is now a long-limbed, sparkly-eyed student who spends her days at school and not at my side. My time with her in the afternoons and evenings is more precious than ever. Her little sister channels all of Molly Shannon's best characters, particularly Mary Katherine Gallagher and Sally O'Malley and requires a lot of energy to keep up with. Naptime is a golden memory of days gone by. There are people who depend on me and people on whom I depend to make it through the week.

I struggle to find space.

And even when I happen upon pockets of space, I don't know what to write. I've had a blank Compose screen up all week. Gone are the days when inspiration flowed from a recent issue of Mothering or cloth diaper shopping or the most recent outrage from the lactivist ranks. And gone with those days, too, is the season of blogging consistently and on a schedule, responding to all comments, keeping up with my blog reader, and just being an all-around Gold Star Blogger.

I live in constant expectation that the other shoe will drop and I'll be exposed as one of those bloggers whose subscriber number is a brow-furrowing mystery because what is she doing here, really?

I turn thirty-four next month, and I feel like I'm going through a late quarter-life crisis, or perhaps experiencing an early onset of mid-life angst. Not just with the blog, but with life in general. Because, what am I doing here, really?

I need some space to think things through, to talk things out, to ponder in peace. I need the freedom that space allows - freedom from checking on page views and Analytics and <insert other things that good bloggers do>. On Monday, I told Kyle I was pretty sure I was going to close SortaCrunchy. He suggested a hiatus. But maybe I just need some space.

Post-script: based on the first few comments, I suppose I should clarify. :) I'm not closing SortaCrunchy, and although I might go on more of an extended hiatus at some point, that's not happening yet. What I hoped to convey is that I need some space to talk things through or not talk at all. I need to build in some space around myself so that I don't feel guilty for every day that passes without hitting Publish. I need space to assess and evaluate and figure out where I'm headed. That's all. Sorry my thoughts didn't translate well to words!

(spoken as I take more steps along the path of transparency, continuing in the year-long journey of GIVE).

 

lingering on hope

Oh, I know.  It's May already.  I just can't quite turn loose of the focus on hope yet.  I hope that's okay.

Isn't that picture divine?  It came from a post at Belle Squeaks where Beth wrote about of things hoped for.  I love this line:

I’ll be honest–I usually think of Hope as something fluffy, pink, and whimsical with an aftertaste of cotton candy.  I think of Hope as something like the prize in the bottom of the Cracker Jack box–great if you get it, but not essential to enjoy the contents.

I've been trying to figure out a way to say that very thing, and her turn of words there is better than anything I could have ever put together.  Really fantastic thoughts, especially for those of us who are doing the mom-at-home gig (particularly if you "did not skip merrily" - as Beth writes - into this position in life).

Seriously.  GREAT read.

* * * * *
I just haven't had it in me to write a thing on the death of (and reaction to the death of) Osama Bin Laden.  Some friends and strangers have written words that mirror my thoughts, and it's always a thing of hope to find heart twins clinging to driftwood amongst the stormy waves.  Here are just a few I loved:

Emerging Mummy: In which Osama Bin Laden is dead
A Deeper Story: On Enemies (from Nish)
Elora Nicole: No Difference

* * * *
We are finally (!!!) finishing the Oasis project.  Yes, four months later.  The past week has been intense.  I am tired, but happy.  (and hopeful.  I can't help myself!)

hope is in the changing seasons

one last entry in the chorus of hope, this from Christine of My Head and My Heart:

What is it about change that sends some people running and others applauding?  I find that change is like country music: people either love it or hate it; no indifference to be had here.  Well I do indeed love both country music and change, and conveniently enough, God set up the earth in a continually changing cycle when he thought up seasons.  Seriously, how creative is that?! 

Now I am from Southern California, so I don’t have a lot of experience with true seasons, but I’ve visited or experienced each season at least once and can not fully describe to you the satisfaction I find in this natural, guaranteed variety.  For me (ya, Miss California), winter is a time for wearing long pants and scarves and shacking up on rainy days with a warm beverage and a GoodHousekeeping.  Spring, my least favorite (I know...don’t throw tomatoes yet), is a time for celebrating light.  Summer is barefoot, HOT, apricots, traveling, Hollywood Bowl, smell-of-basil, birthday season.  And autumn, oh autumn!  This is my favorite season but oddly enough, I did not experience a true fall until this past year when I visited Tennessee.  Autumn is pumpkin everything, annual Fall Day with my big sister, and preparing for Christmas.

If you’re wondering what this fascination with seasons has to do with hope, I’m about to make the connection.  So living parenthetically (from deadline to deadline...”let’s just reach that next break and we’ll feel good again”) is not my thing.  It’s just not good to be constantly wrapped up in what’s coming tomorrow instead of what’s happening today.  But I do love having something to which I can look forward.  For me, seasons are a healthful, practical way of staying hopeful year-round.  As you’ve observed, I fully acknowledge God’s hand in the process of annual seasons (and that’s not even touching how he guides the seasons of our personal lives!  Oh mercy, there’s a whole big talk for another day.).  Though I don’t believe I should live in Spring longing for summer, and then in summer longing for autumn, and so on, having seasons to hope in go hand-in-hand with living a balanced, simple life.  There are four concrete-ish packages to hold on to each year in seasons. They function as practical guarantees that things will change; a warning for those who don’t like it and a hopeful reminder for those who thrive on it.

So as I sit here, in my swivel chair, drinking kiwi fuzz-tainted water, gazing outside into the sunny, not-too-hot day, I really am doing my best to enjoy spring (seriously, check it out.  I am gladly hopeful that the hard things in my heart’s season can and will change with the turning of more and more calendar pages this year.  My prayer is that each person who stumbles across these words would think about their seasons, whether personal or regional and recognize reasons to hope...reasons to love. change.

Christine Hamel is a college student immersed in Intercultural Studies and Psychology.  She is passionate about all things creative, including her Creator, homemaking, and cheap green living.  She itches to get out of the country about once a year...and usually manages to do just that.  At My Head and My Heart, she delves into the aforementioned topics.