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Seven years ago, I was trying to figure out what direction I was headed in, trying to hear God’s voice, trying to figure out what was actually next for me. I look back at those posts from 2010, and I see a younger me trying to let the process unfold as it should.

At every step, I’ve been fairly clear that the next thing to do is just the next right thing to do – whether it was another essay, or another form, or another class, or whatever presented itself next. I didn’t look far ahead like I usually did – I just did what I was meant to do next, because the big future planning hadn’t worked out so well for me, and why not actually trust God for a change?

Well, that next right thing process has now gotten me to this day, this day of my ordination into the Unitarian Universalist ministry.

Ain’t that a hell of a thing.

And here I am, at the culmination of a journey which is in fact the start of a journey. In these nearly seven years, I have leaned in, breathed deeply, and discovered the minister I am and the ministry I am called to – a ministry of the heart as much as a ministry of the arts – and for me it is less about being the artist and more about inspiring creation and creativity as our way to truth and right action.

The readings and songs that make up my ordination service are all very much about following that impulse: to enter the difficult sideways through the act and experience of creation, to open our hearts to a love that is limitless and unimaginably good, to leap boldly into possibility.

One particular piece, written by my friend, the Biblical scholar Celene Lillie, specifically for my ordination (what a gift it is!), is a narrative of the call of Mary Magdalene: Mary, who was not told to follow Jesus and learn from him, and whose words after his death were met with doubt, and whose very character was defiled by church fathers centuries after her death. Mary, whose call, Celene notes, “is not uncomplicated.”

Our calls are complicated – especially the calls of women who choose an alternative path in ministry. What does it mean to breathe into and step forward into a complicated call of the arts and the heart in a complicated world? I don’t know, and I suspect the sermon my mentor preaches today is going to challenge us to consider it…just as I will be challenged by this call every day.

But what I do know is that this call is full of color and movement, sound and excitement, chaos and stillness, truth and beauty, awe and wonder, openness and possibility, friendship and love.

 

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There are those who know right from the start what their path in life is meant to be. And there are those, like me, who have tried a number of different paths, some successful until they weren’t, some interrupted by crisis or tragedy or failure. I personally got to the point where I stopped thinking about the future, because I couldn’t bear the crushing disappointment.

So when I answered the call to ministry, I was very clear that I couldn’t think all the way to ordination, because I couldn’t bear it if I didn’t make it. Instead, I would just do what was in front of me – apply to seminary, get funding, get through the semester, fill out the forms, write the essays, check off the boxes, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

When I arrived in Southold in August 2015 following seminary and my internship, there were still steps ahead, and I still kept my head down, focusing on just the next step – prepare for the ministerial fellowship committee, complete my clinical pastoral education, fill out the forms, have the conversations, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

And now, having been welcomed into preliminary fellowship (with more forms and essays, because I think paperwork will actually be the death of me), there is just one final step.

I am blessed that the Board of Trustees, on behalf of the First Universalist Church of Southold, has agreed to ordain me into Unitarian Universalist ministry.

I realize of course that the ordination is not the start of my ministry. Rather, an ordination is in some ways like a wedding – just as a wedding is in many ways a spiritual and legal affirmation of the existing relationship, so too an ordination is a spiritual and legal affirmation of the existing ministry.

And still, the act of ordination is a big moment – it will be a big service with some great music, great preaching and readings, and some pomp and circumstance. It will also be a party to celebrate the long road I have traveled, which you have traveled with me.

As details emerge, and as more thoughts emerge, I will undoubtedly write more. But for now…

SQUEE!

 

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This is a post I should have written a month ago, when Rev. Jennifer Slade took her life – a beautiful, brilliant, humanity-affirming life. Her death was shocking and jarring. But I didn’t write then, perhaps because while she was a colleague, I didn’t know her personally and didn’t know how to parse it. I didn’t know what to say then.

It’s been a couple of days now since Robin Williams took his own life – also a beautiful, brilliant, humanity-affirming life. And while I didn’t know him personally either, somehow I think we all did on one level – we knew him through his antic comedy and his moving drama. He came into our living rooms and our movie theatres and we knew him. After hearing the news, my cousin wrote, “if he only knew how we felt… really felt.”

And suddenly, I know what to say – to those who loved Jennifer, to those who loved Robin, and to those who love anyone.

It might not have been enough, knowing how people really felt. I know, because I have lived it.

I have lived that moment when, despite having some success and security, I could see no way out.

I have lived that moment when, despite knowing that there were people who would miss me, I thought they would be better off without me.

I have lived that moment when, despite being knowledgeable about mental illness and the tragedies of suicide, it just didn’t matter.

Now obviously, I didn’t commit suicide. Instead, like a robot, I went to work, and thankfully the better angels in my head compelled me to say something to someone. They got me to a doctor, who got me to a psychiatrist, who got me treatment, which helped me get well. I now know better how to manage the sadness, how to reach out, what to look for in my own life so that I won’t go down that road again.

But I have lived that moment, when a decision is made. For me, the delay was largely because I couldn’t come up with a method that I thought would work. But I had made a decision.

There’s a scene in an episode of M*A*S*H, where psychiatrist Sidney Freedman spends some time at the 4077th because he had lost a patient. He explains the moment to Hawkeye:

Actually, the straw that broke my back was a kid who was hearing voices telling him to kill himself. After some time with him, he got very quiet, sometimes that’s a sign they’ve made up their minds. Only somehow, I missed it. And then that night, after we all went to sleep, that sweet, innocent, troubled kid… listened to the voices.

I know that moment of quiet. And I imagine Jennifer and Robin probably seemed calmer to family and friends in those last days than they had leading up to it. It’s impossible to know exactly what was in their mind, but I can imagine, because I’ve lived it.

—

So what do we do? If I hadn’t said something to a coworker, I might not be here today. The truth is, no one asked me. I put up a front of being very together, very self-assured, very competent and confident. I was (and still am) the person others came to for problems.

What we do is engage.

What we do is talk to people, not about their accomplishments, but about their lives.

What we do is ask “how are you” and stay present as we hear the answer.

What we do is not assume the confident person has a busy schedule and wouldn’t possibly be interested in going to lunch or a movie or helping with a project.

What we do is be present to those who otherwise might be outside our close circle.

What we do is be in covenant.

“Love is the doctrine of this church,” we recite, “to the end that all shall grow into harmony… thus do we covenant with one another.” Not contract, not promise, not lawfully abide. Covenant. Be in right relation. With everyone.

It’s possible that Jennifer had good, strong people in covenant with her and like Sidney Freedman, they still missed the signs. It’s possible Robin was surrounded by people who genuinely loved him, not his celebrity or his genius, and they still missed the signs.

But then I remember the viral stories of the men – one a police officer at the Golden Gate Bridge, one an Irishman who lives near a cliff – who talk to people who look like they’ve made a decision, and encourage them to keep living. They have an unspoken covenant with these people – to know them. To relate to them. To care for them. To listen when no one else will. Sometimes it isn’t the people closest to us that make the difference but simply the people who take seriously the care of being in covenant with one another.

A decade ago, Jeannie Gagne wrote an incredible, haunting piece (available to all of us in Singing the Journey) called “In My Quiet Sorrow,” written to honor those times when we carry “sorrows in our hearts that sometimes go unexpressed—with a prayer for support, love, and guidance. We all have times in our lives that are challenging; sometimes we need to ask for help, but we don’t know quite how or when.” (from the UUA’s song information page) Our covenant to one another is to hold each other and be present for each other in these times:

I am worn,
I am tired,
in my quiet sorrow.
Hopelessness will not let me be.
Help me

I won’t speak
of this ache
inside, light eludes me.
In the silence of my heart,
I’m praying.

I keep on,
day by day,
trusting light will guide me.
Will you be with me through this time,
holding me?

You’re my hope
when I fear
holding on, believing.
Deep inside I pray I’m strong.
Blessed be.

You may not know what to say exactly. But say something. And genuinely listen.

You never know, and you still may miss some of the signs, but you may also make all the difference.

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So… then there was that time I scrolled through my Facebook newsfeed and saw this:

Running after “slaying a dragon,” at all costs, with no relationship to your divine or to the other human beings in the world, will never generate joy .

A Hero’s Journey doesn’t suit us. It’s just not going to work.
We need something else, we need a new map.

We need to step into the Heroine’s Journey.

The Hero points himself in the direction of a singular goal,
the Heroine uses her desire as her internal compass.

The Hero leads with his sword,
the Heroine leads with her pleasure.

The Hero is alone,
the Heroine locates herself in community, in sisterhood, in collaboration.

The Hero is self-sacrificing,
the Heroine receives from others.

The Hero revels in his victory, no matter the price.
the Heroine is filled with deep gratitude at the privilege of life, itself, at every twist in her storyline.

The Hero never questions himself, or his value, or direction,
the Heroine lives inside the question, and trusts that the enjoyment of her deep longing draws her desires closer to her, every day.

The Hero survives adversity against all odds,
the Heroine owns her rupture, surrenders to it, celebrates the perfection of her circumstances, no matter what.

The heroine takes a huge leap- she chooses to be the author of her own storyline, rather than the victim.

The power and the fuel that allows the Heroine’s Journey to unfold is her turn on.
Turned on to life. Turned on to her divinity. Turned on to her beauty. Turned on to her pleasure. Turned on to her power.
When a woman is turned on, she is tuned in.

And I realized that maybe my hesitation isn’t fear, but that I’ve been living the wrong story.

 

 

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When I first formed Word Alchemy five years ago, it was with an eye to being able to work anywhere in the world. While I was comfortable in upstate New York, I quickly set my sights on working on a tropical island, and I would joke about working “the Nassau Way”… complete with wifi and electricity that extends to the hammock near the water and an administrative assistant well-versed in bookkeeping, organization, and daiquiri-making.

I dreamed into this further as I worked with Ray Patterson and his brilliant strategic life visioning process. And for Christmas 2009, Carl Eeman gave me a poster of that hammock by the sea. When I got the poster, I taped it (I thought temporarily) over a framed print of “Night with her Train of Stars” that hangs on the wall across from my bed. Since that Christmas day in 2009, I have looked at that poster every day I have been in that room. This is my view:

dreamonmywall

Since then, of course, I heard the call to ministry and am well on my way. Part of being on my way is seeking an internship position in a congregation for the year after I graduate from seminary.  As early as this past August, I started haunting the UUA’s Internship Clearinghouse… and was delighted to discover a new teaching congregation in Key West, Florida. Key West! That seemed so fantastical… yet what an opportunity! While other congregations began to fill the page, I found myself not willing to let go of my initial thrill, and added Key West to the sites I applied for.

Now I will admit – at some point, in the midst of interviewing with some large congregations with well-established intern minister programs, I began to think Key West might be too small and too green. And then I heard someone at another seminary say “everyone is applying there!” and I figured the pool would be too large and I would get lost in the mix anyway.

I am happy to say I interviewed at all the sites I applied for.. but after each of the first three, I felt a little uncomfortable, doubtful, and worried. I knew I’d be happy at two of them but it was clear I wasn’t a really good fit.

And then I talked to the intern search committee in Key West. It was an incredibly fantastic conversation. I heard places where my gifts would meet their needs … and of course where their strengths would teach me and help soften my growing edges. We laughed together, we spoke in first person terms, we engaged each other. And when I hung up I thought “this is it.” I then heard from my references that they’d had amazing conversations with the committee as well.

On Wednesday, December 18th, Rev. Dr. Randy Becker and board president Joy Taylor called to offer me the position as their intern minister, starting August 1, 2014… and now I am a part of One Island Family, the Southernmost Unitarian Universalist Congregation.

A day later, I traveled back to Round Lake for the holidays, and as I sat on my bed, I looked and saw that poster.

The dreaming… the imagining…the visioning.

Made manifest.

Sure, not precisely as I imagined it five years ago… but five years ago, I knew I wanted to live and work on a tropical island. And in about seven months, I will be doing exactly that… in a more meaningful, heart-felt, missional way.

Can dreams come true? Bet on it. And if you are open to how they will manifest, they may surprise you and be even better than you imagined.

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One of the limits of WordPress, I have discovered, is that it hates too many iframes, and thus is unwieldy to edit. So I’ve instead put up this followup post… it includes a link to the audio from August 21, as well as the words of Rev. Linda Hoddy’s blessing.

The audio – click here to listen –  picks up at beginning of my formal remarks – right after “Song of the Soul”… it includes Linda’s blessing, closing words, extinguishing the chalice, and the postlude.

Linda’s words of blessing are below:

Spirit of Life,

We give thanks for this beloved community, this congregation,

 where a call to ordained ministry can be felt and nurtured.

We give thanks for the one who is now being called to deeper service, and for her Yes,

                We ask your blessings for her journey, and grant our own.

May Kim continue to be attuned to things of the spirit,

 open to and heedful of the subtle signs and messages by which you will guide her into

the service of humanity and a better world.  

May she be accompanied by wise and gentle souls

 who will help her discern and refine her ministry.

May her academic preparation be excellent.

 But more importantly, may her heart and mind be continually opened to your guidance and will.

 May she increasingly know the divinity present in all creation:

 in nature, in work, in play, in other human beings,

 and herself and her call to service.

 May she never doubt her own worth as a child of God, with gifts intended for the blessing of humanity.

May ministry not only be something that she does, but may it 

deepen and mingle with the roots of her being, until ministry is the very essence of who she is.

May she find joy in the sacrifice and surrender that ministry requires. 

We are grateful for all that she has shared with us in these few years:

Music and theater,  

                Administrative skill.

Laughter and tears,

Tenacity through conflict and tumult,

Warmth, wisdom, insight and friendship.

These gifts have enhanced our life together.

 And now, as we release her to greater service, we wish her well.

May she know in times of doubt and struggle, as well as in times of joy,

 that our prayers are with her.  We will hold her gently in our hearts, forever.

                                                                                                                                Amen.  

PS: The Art I am using for the thumbnails is created by UU watercolorist Jordan Lynn Gribble.

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Holy cow! I’m in! Union accepted me!

What’s funny is that just last night at Wellspring, I was expressing my deep fear that this had all passed me by… that I would not get in, and then what?

The “then what” question has been weighing on me for a while. What if I didn’t get in? What path would I pursue? How would I manage to find my ministry? Would I apply elsewhere? Would I say “this is a sign”? Would I slink back to my congregation with failure on my face?

I was actually thinking about writing on this today…and then I got the mail.

Of course, first was the panic, as it was a VERY SLIM ENVELOPE. That’s never a good sign… that’s usually a “thanks, but no” letter.

So imagine my surprise and joy when I read “congratulations!”

I’m still floating…and grinning… going to meet with my minister shortly before choir; she’ll be so pleased.

 

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A few days ago, feeling alone and without answers, I likened how I felt to being on Massachusetts Bay.

When I was a child, we spent our summers in Brewster on Cape Cod, and I have strong memories of walking out into the Bay at low tide – it was very flat, and it seemed that the sand went on for miles. Indeed, I suspect it did… we would walk for hours, digging for clams, feeling the moist sand under our feet, seeing the waves at some distance from us. Usually, we walked back in long before the tide itself came in (although there was one instance where that was in some question – apparently Mom was much more scared than she let on).

Anyway… Saturday night, feeling alone and unnoticed by God, I used this metaphor…that I was walking out into the bay, with the tide always going out, knowing God had been there because I could hear the roar of the waves and feel the moistness of the sand…but the further I walked, the further the tide rolled out. It was as though i could never catch it…and that the tide…God…would never come back to meet me even a little bit.

A lonely, exhausting, fruitless feeling.

The next morning, I went to church, feeling exhausted and a bit beaten up spiritually. I was slated to speak about stewardship during the service – why I give of my time, talent, and treasure. I wasn’t looking forward to it, but once I got there, and looked around at these people who had provided just what I needed, i realized that God was there – in their faces, in their hearts. I got weepy while I tlaked about giving of myself and getting bounty in return, for right there – in front of me, I was getting even as I gave.

Perhaps the lesson here is that the tide DOES always come in… the oceans and seas teach us of the constancy, the ebb and flow…. the tide will come in. It may take a while, and it may seem that the low tide lasts so much longer than it should… but the tide will roll in.

Now the second part of this tide is my conversation last night with my new spiritual director, Erik Wikstrom. We are meant to have a spiritual director as part of our Wellsprings program. I chose Erik from a list of local and not-local directors; we had originally tried to connect over a year ago, but it wasn’t right. Now, it was.

Erik listened patiently to my story – the spiritual journey, the seeking, the life events that brought me here, the tragedies and hardships, and the sense that I can no longer ignore the call to ministry.

He said three things that gave me pause…and which tell me the tide IS rolling in.

First, he said that I have already answered the call – I have been ministering to people for a long time, whether through pagan circles, or speaking at churches, offering the kinds of support and guidance I have offered informally through the years.  He suggested the question is not “is there a call to answer” but rather “what shape will it take now”… will it go toward formal ordination or something less formal?

The second point he made is that it’s not going to be this question that will likely dominate our conversations. Rather, it will be my anger toward God and learning how to better communicate with the Divine.

Thirdly, he heard my spiritual exhaustion. He agreed I needed to stop journeying and rest at the oasis for a while. He confirmed my feelings of needing to stop and listen. And I think he’s happy to sit next to me and help me hear.

So.. we will sit. We will listen to the still small voice…and watch the tide roll in.