Theology of Surprises

Many of you have read my posts about my growing obsession with my Beloved Community from Old St. Pats. Love these people.

Anyway, I attended a dinner last night and Terry-Nelson Johnson, the spiritual formation guy at Old St Pats spoke about the Theology of Surprise.

Basically, in a nutshell, it's what happens when you say to yourself, "This is NOT what I expected!"

That's what I say about my life pretty much every day. This is not what I expected.

But just when life is not what you expect is when God can surprise you. Good things can happen. Just not what you expect.

And surprised are often difficult, but full of grace.

Like a job loss. Not what I expected. But filled with good things like getting to spend more time with my husband. Feeling like I can finally follow some of my dreams because, really, I have nothing more to lose. Finally getting out from under the 9-5 cubicle grind.

So are we open to these surprises?

Often, I must admit, I am not. I want security. I want to know the rest of the story. I want predictability.

I must discipline myself to be open to surprise. To let go of my illusion of control (because, really, it IS just an illusion), and the arrogance that I've "been there, done that."

I want to be open to living differently. To taking the side route. Not letting the feeling that "all surprises have passed me by" become reality.

There's new life coming....there's new possibility....something new can happen if we are only available, vulnerable, open, and humble.

God joins us in our chaos. He's with us in the surprises that are difficult but full of grace.

Amen.

What's going on?

Looking at my number of blog posts for the past few months, I'm averaging about one a month. That's pathetic! I'm not sure why I'm not posting more. I guess it's because I think no one will want to hear about my rants about my lack of work, our lack of money, or this stinking economy.

It's a scary time, people....I don't know if anyone else is feeling it like we are, but it's frightening to think that we don't know what the future holds. I've always had the feeling that if I lost my job, or the freelance work wasn't coming in, I'd be able to make it by temping or working at Starbucks. But with so many people out of work, even those jobs are hard to come by.

But we are thankful for the little work that we do have. David is freelancing, and working part time at a counseling practice (although it will be a while before he builds up his client base...), and I just landed a website project that will keep me busy for a few weeks.

Every day I see things that make me grateful for what David and I have: A roof over our heads. Food. The work that is trickling in. We have friends and family and each other.

In Chicago, we always see homeless people begging at intersections. They wait for the light to turn red, and then they walk in between the two rows of stopped cars with a cardboard sign that reads "Homeless and hungry, please help" or something like that. Most of the time you see the same people at the same intersections. It's hard to know what to do. Once, I was eating a sandwich in my car and one of these beggars looked into my car longingly. I handed him the untouched half of my sandwich, and he stuffed it into his mouth. Other times, I give money. And sometimes, I just look away and pretend not to notice them outside my car window. It's hard -- I've heard that you're never supposed to give homeless people cash because they may spend it on drugs or alcohol.

I've noticed lately that different sorts of people are begging at these intersections. They're not the typical homeless men with dirt-caked jeans and mismatched shoes, who feign a limp to elicit sympathy. The other day I saw a 30-ish middle-eastern woman who was holding a picture of her three children. She was clean and had a desperate look on her face. I had no money with me, otherwise I would have give her the entire contents of my wallet.

At least we have food. And while I'm frustrated that our adoption is on hold until we find steady work, in some ways I'm grateful we don't have three children to feed.

When you feel uncertain about the future, it forces you to focus on today. On this moment. I will go crazy if I think months down the road. I'm just living day to day, and as scripture says:

"For this reason I say to you, do not be worried about your life, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?"

I've always been a worrier. And there are times when I still wake up in the middle of the night and think of all of the Worst Case Scenarios: What if we don't find steady work? What will happen if we run out of money? What if the economy doesn't turn around soon?

But slowly, I'm learning to let go of that worry and just focus on today. And maybe that's the lesson I'm supposed to learn through all of this.....

More graduations!

Last weekend I attended my niece, Claire's high school graduation. She was valevictorian of her class. As you can tell, she didn't get her smarts from her aunt Karen, seeing as I don't even know how to spell "valevictorian." I think there's a "d" in there somewhere.....

She wrote a lovely, very mature speech that had to do with not judging people on how they seem on the outside, and that it's never too late to pursue your dreams. I hope she remembers it when she's my age. I hope I can remember it as I sit in front of my computer screen and wonder if I'll ever eeeek out a well-written novel.

I saw her writing notes on the backs of her graduation photos to give to her friends, and remember doing the same thing. These gorgeous and talented young men and women who are her friends have their whole lives ahead of them. College! Oh, what a fun and special time when your whole world is opened up. I remember leaving a philosophy class one day feelings like I was on drugs -- the euphoria was that great. And leaving chapel after hearing an inspired speaker and feeling like I could change the world.

Now, 20-some odd years later, after reality has smacked me in the face more than once, I still have those feelings once in a while. I wish I had them more often. But that doesn't mean that life isn't fulfilling and beautiful and adventurous. It's just that it looks a little different than it did on the college campus when I was wearing Izod polo shirts, a plaid skirt, knee socks and loafers (okay, it was the preppy era). Growing up means realizing you have more limitations than you think you have, and you discover that you may not be able to change the world, but you can change your small little part of it. And maybe you're not going to be a famous novelist, but the small things you write will maybe speak into the life of one person. And that's enough.

You also discover that maybe God needs to change you before you can change the world. You need to learn how to love better, and give better, and be more kind and less self-centered.

These are not easy lessons. But opening yourself up to them brings great rewards and fulfillment. And not learning them will lead to a small life of self-absorption and bitterness. Who wants that?

I wish I could tell my nieces and nephews all of the lessons I've learned in the past 20 years. I wish I could spare them the difficulties in life. But they will have to learn their own lessons, in their own ways.

My advice to them is to:

Not let fear keep you from love, or the work you love, or the adventures you want to pursue.

Keep your eyes open for grace. You'll find it in the most unexpected places and times.

Learn how to love unselfishly.

Remember that treasures will be found in the midst of ruin.

Don't live someone else's dream.

The most important thing -- even more than being successful or smart -- is waking up every morning and wondering who you're going to love that day.

Oh, there's so much more. But these are all lessons that will be learned through living your life. So just be open to them.

Oh, and don't forget to keep hoping, even when it seems like there is no hope.

That's the most important one.