Christy Potter's Blog, page 2

Christy Writes: Change the Record

Tuesday was Crazy Hat Day at seminary, just a fun little distraction as we head into finals. As I sat in one of my classes, with a floral party hat on one side of me and a jester hat on the other, under which serious theological conversations were taking place, I fell in love with my life all over again. I’ve been doing that a lot lately. I hope you have too.

 

My therapist, the relentlessly buoyant Dr. V, says we all have records in the jukebox in our heads that have been there for years, put in by our past experiences, some of them going back to when we were very young. We might not have had control of it when those records were put in, but we don’t have to keep listening to them as adults. Whenever we find ourselves thinking something that we know is based on past experiences or old habits, we should stop and tell ourselves to change the record.

Change the record.

Change the freaking record.

It’s so simple. At first, I thought it was one of those easier said than done things, but it really isn’t. It’s almost become a habit with me now, like when I’m reacting to a situation based on something out of my past (let’s say, oh, maybe… my divorce? *cough*cough*). I will catch myself, pause, and think “Change the record.” And when I react to a situation as it is, in and of itself, everything changes.

Of course it doesn’t happen immediately, but it is actually kind of fun to do once you learn to recognize when it’s going on. I didn’t realize how much time I had spent listening to the old records until Dr. V brought it up, but now I love recognizing it, yanking off the old record, and putting on something new.

It does help to have a good support system. I was explaining the change the record theory to The Rev over lunch recently.

“I don’t know how easy it will be to stop myself,” I admitted, using the chips off his plate to load guacamole into my mouth because mine were long gone. “I’m half Celtic, half German. I didn’t come with brakes.”

I wasn’t even sure how much he was listening until some time later when I had gotten a professional review of my novel, The Bacchae. It was probably 95 percent great, with the other five percent focused on what could be improved.

The old record came on and started playing that song that goes “You’re not good enough, haha, you can’t write anything more complex than a want ad, you washed up old hack.” And no sooner had I started singing along than The Rev said “Stop it. Just stop it.”

Change the record.

It’s a process. But as I settle into my new role as a parish pastor, I am being called on more and more to help others with their problems, to be a listening ear and offer spiritual support. I can’t imagine a better time for me to have learned the skill of how to change the record. Not to mention that some of them were starting to skip anyway.

The post Christy Writes: Change the Record appeared first on Christy The Writer.

Christy in the Pulpit: When Your Heart is Grieving

When peace like a river, attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billows roll;

Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to know

It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,

Let this blest assurance control,

That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,

And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!

My sin, not in part but the whole,

Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,

Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

It is well,

With my soul,

It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Some of you may know the story behind this old hymn, “It Is Well With My Soul.” Hymnist Horatio Spafford penned the now well-known song around 1876, after his life was affected by tragedy. I say “affected” but that’s a mild way of putting what happened to Spafford during this time in his life.

Spafford was a successful lawyer in Chicago, where he also owned a significant amount of property. He and his wife, Anna, had several children and, by all accounts, a happy and comfortable life. They were well-known and well-liked around Chicago.

But things started to go downhill for the Spaffords. Fast. First, their son died at the age of two, and shortly after that came the Great Chicago Fire of 1871, which nearly ruined Spafford financially. Then came the economic downturn of 1873, which basically finished him off.

Spafford decided to book his family on a sea voyage to Europe to try and lift his family’s spirits. But at the last minute, he was delayed by some business issues, so he sent his family ahead.

Then, while crossing the Atlantic, the ship his family was on collided with another ship, and although Spafford’s wife survived, all four of their daughters died.

As Spafford was traveling to meet his wife, the ship he was on passed near where his daughters had died.

And it was at that moment, that moment of what had to be the most crushing pain a person can endure, that Spafford picked up his pen and wrote the lyrics to “It Is Well With My Soul.”

I cannot imagine Spafford’s grief in that time of his life. I have never experienced loss like he did, but I have experienced loss, and grief, and the wrenching sadness that sometimes feels like you may never be able to draw a deep breath again because everything just hurts so much.

Grief and loss are real. And they are a part of life – none of us will pass from this world without experiencing some sort of loss and grief.

Sometimes it’s short-lived – you lost your job or had a falling out with a friend – but sometimes it’s deeper, the kind of grief that takes a bite out of your very soul. Death, heartbreak, broken family relationships, severe illness… there are as many causes of grief as there are people to experience it.

This is a subject that many of you brought up to me when I asked you “Where does it hurt?” several weeks ago. It has taken me this long to address this particular hurt in a sermon because, quite frankly, there are no easy answers.

Yes, the Bible tells us how to find faith in the midst of our grief. And everything the Bible says about grief is real and true and we know this.

But still…

We grieve.

To hear the rest, click here:

 

The post Christy in the Pulpit: When Your Heart is Grieving appeared first on Christy The Writer.

Christy Writes: On Life, Change, and My Watch Battery

I put a new battery in my watch this morning.

This probably doesn’t seem noteworthy, and in and of itself it actually isn’t, but this particular watch has been carrying around a dead battery for quite awhile. And nearly every morning, I put it on my wrist. And I wear it all day. And when someone asks me what time it is, I pull out my phone to check.

“Why are you taking out your phone when you’re wearing a watch?” is the forgivable question that inevitably follows.

“My watch is dead,” I answer, in a way that implies it’s entirely possible I put the watch on that morning with the express belief that it was running just fine, only to discover later – probably with an annoyed little sound under my breath – that it had stopped.

Only that wasn’t the case. The fact is, I just never bothered to put a new battery in it. But I consistently strapped that watch onto my wrist every morning. Perhaps because it matches most of my outfits. Perhaps out of habit.

Or perhaps because things have changed so much in my life recently that I found a certain degree of comfort in hanging onto the one thing that never changed: the fact that my watch always said 3:45.

I am a big proponent of change when it’s my idea. I love new beginnings and trying different ideas and switching things up – but only if these changes come about because I have decided it’s time.

When others make changes for me, not so much. That type of change is generally much harder for me. I tend to resist change I am not ready for, and of course, “resist” is a pretty word I use to explain what actually happens – which is that my emotions take on the expression and demeanor of a bush baby on a caffeine bender.

So I kick and scream, then spend a lot of time taking bubble baths and crying and reading Susan Sontag essays and digging the big chunks of toffee out of a container of toffee crunch ice cream. I’m not saying this method of dealing with change is right for everyone, but it works for me.

Lately I have been going through those sorts of changes in my personal life, changes that were handed to me without discussion and without fanfare, changes that left me feeling confused and uncertain about a lot of things. And while all this was going on, the presidential election happened and now I’m watching my country shifting around me, less like a kaleidoscope and more like a bucket of broken glass dumped into a giant centrifuge machine.

So maybe now you understand why it was a big deal to me that no matter what else was crashing around me, my watch always said 3:45. I don’t know what was happening in my life at the exact 3:45 when the watch stopped, but whatever it was, it had to be better than this.

But I get into the pulpit every Sunday and I preach about faith. I preach faith from every angle, from right side up to upside down, and how faith can get us through the toughest of times in our lives. And here’s what I’ve learned… sometimes what sounds great from the pulpit, even to my own ears, can be mighty hard to put into practice.

I guess it’s a bit like how I felt about summer this year – I resisted its exit. I lauded the heat of July. I savored every moment. I gave a mighty stink eye to anyone who said they couldn’t wait for fall, and God help you if you posted a Christmas countdown on Facebook and it showed up in my newsfeed.

But summer left anyway. And autumn came. And as much as I didn’t want that change, I’ve adapted. Because really, what choice did I have?

So while I’m still watching the election fallout from a place of distant distaste, I’ve decided that the other changes in my life are ones I need to stop resisting and just embrace. Just wrap them in faith and see where they take me.

I wish I could say it’s easy. It isn’t. But it’s time. I decided, while I’m at it, to make a few other changes. I switched up my exercise program. I started writing a new book. I got a few new fall outfits. I changed the fragrance I wear. I’m painting my bedroom a new color. When I look around me and see positive change too, it makes everything seem a little brighter.

So… yeah. I put a new battery in my watch this morning.

The post Christy Writes: On Life, Change, and My Watch Battery appeared first on Christy The Writer.

Christy in the Pulpit: No Regrets

We all have regrets, don’t we? Sometimes we carry them around for years, or even our entire lives. But the important issue is not our regrets. What’s important is moving beyond our regrets, and that’s where we get stuck.

So how do we do it? Where do we start?

Let’s start where we always do: the Bible.

In our two scripture readings from this morning, we heard from two men who know all about regrets. David, in the Old Testament, and Paul, in the New Testament. There are dozens of examples of people in the Bible who suffered with regret, but this morning, we’re going to focus on these two.

Let’s start with David, because if there’s ever a guy who knew about regret, it was David.

For the rest, click here…

The post Christy in the Pulpit: No Regrets appeared first on Christy The Writer.

Christy Writes: On Regrets, Burned Cookies, and Falling in Love with My Life

I recently had an attack of the sort of guilt I’m told working mothers sometimes feel.

Between school and preaching, I have been going full steam for so long now that I don’t often think about how it affects The Guy, mostly because he never complains. But the other day, he came home with a package of those slice-and-bake refrigerator cookies, so he’d have cookies for his lunches. And then he burned them.

A sadder sight I have never seen, and it was all compounded by the fact that he had a hole in his pants and needs a haircut. It was like Charles Dickens wrote him, for crying out loud. My point is that right now I’m baking him cookies from scratch.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my life, and how it looks when I hold it up next to how I thought it would be. They don’t match. They don’t even come close to matching. It took me a weirdly long time to decide I was okay with that. It’s hard to give up some of the images I’ve always had about how my life would turn out. Motherhood, owning a home, having a Pulitzer Prize and maybe a National Book Award on the bookcase in my writing room…

Instead, it’s early evening on a Friday and I’m studying for my Greek quiz on Monday, painting my toenails with bottle of cheap polish I picked up for the sole reason that it’s called “Strawberry Fields Forever,” and the only pitter-patter of little feet around here is coming from the cat, who is literally trying to climb the wall because he is 94 percent insane. We don’t own this house. My bookshelves hold nothing more than books that were bequeathed to me by several recently retired pastors. I’m exhausted. I’m not sure where my glasses are. My husband has to burn his own cookies.

And yet I’m in love with my life. I’ve finally managed to stopped looking over my shoulder at all the stuff that I don’t have, and found myself happier with what I do have. It isn’t an easy point to get to, although I somehow think it should be.

I’m preaching this Sunday about regrets, and writing the sermon has made me think about my own regrets, ones that I’ve let go and the ones I’ve still been hanging onto for whatever reason.

“If it wasn’t for regrets, I wouldn’t have anything to think about,” The Rev commented when we were talking about it a few days ago.

I so get that.

But I’ve started to think of regrets like hairs in the shower drain. I think they’re gone, washed away, but then things start backing up and all of a sudden the drain is running slow and the tub is slick and all hell breaks loose. I have to make sure the regrets are really gone, that I’m forgiven, that I forgive others, and that I forgive myself.

That’s the point I came to a couple of weeks ago, when some unexpected changes came to my life and made me re-evaluate everything, from the inside out. I have no room for regrets anymore. I will keep going forward, keep looking ahead, keep planning and dreaming and growing, but I will stop looking back except in love.

I had a long talk with a dear friend over lunch this week, one of those way overdue catch-up talks that are like balm to the soul. She told me there are certain things in her life she has come to accept as part of her life as it is. She realizes her life will not stay as it is forever, but for right now, it’s her life and – for better or for worse – she’s good with it.

It did my heart good to hear it, and I walked home later feeling lighter, more centered, more at peace with my own life and in my own spirit.

I’m starting to realize that’s what we all need. Everyone. The whole world. If there are changes we need to make in our lives, then yes, by all means… make those changes. But don’t let regrets pile up. Don’t wish for what you aren’t meant to have right now. Let go of what was, and embrace what is. I may have just stumbled onto the key to world peace: fall in love with your own life.

I know I’m in love with mine.

NYC Rain

The post Christy Writes: On Regrets, Burned Cookies, and Falling in Love with My Life appeared first on Christy The Writer.

Christy Writes: The Angel and the Baseball Card

I’ve been in a bit of a funk the last few days, so when this morning broke open with bright sunlight and autumn colors after rain all day yesterday, I decided to get myself to the dollar store and get what I needed to update the wreath on my front door.

As you probably know, there is nothing like a dose of arts and / or crafts to blow away the cobwebs of a funk. Unless you give yourself second-degree burns with a hot glue gun, which in fact I have done but not today and that isn’t my point here.

When I got into line with my fake leaves and burlap ribbon, I noticed the man in front of me. He has special needs and was attempting conversation with everyone around him. No one was answering him except with that embarrassed, vacant smile that people reserve for adults with special needs, the one that is aimed at the wall just beyond them.

Something inside me snapped. Child of God, anyone? Hello? Anyone? Is this thing on?

I smiled at the man and asked him about the baseball card he was buying. He happily told me all about his collection at home, which also includes basketball and football cards. I was just happy he didn’t want to argue politics.

“I know a lot of people collect sports cards, because they’re… so…” I faltered, unsure of how to wrap up that sentence. “Nicely made,” I finished lamely.

The man laughed.

“Nicely made!” He clearly realized I had zero idea what I was talking about. He laughed again, a big joyous belly laugh. I laughed too, and the people around us started laughing.

When he’d paid for his card and his bottle of diet Coke, I said goodbye to him and he left.

There’s a lesson in there somewhere. Be kind? Good grief, if we haven’t learned that one by now, I don’t know what we’re even doing here. Pay it forward? Maybe. All I know is that after hearing his laugh, I left the store realizing my funk had been lifted by this angel and his baseball card.

Love each other, guys. We’re all in this together.

The post Christy Writes: The Angel and the Baseball Card appeared first on Christy The Writer.

Christy Writes: Confronting the Negative

I was driving down the street yesterday and I passed an elderly woman in a floral housedress, wrestling a lawn mower down her steep concrete front steps. You have your heroes, I have mine.

The seminary is on fall break this week, and I’m so glad. It’s been a hectic semester so far, between taking a full course load and working as a pastor at a wonderful church in the Poconos.

Aside from being able to stay in my pajama pants all day, listen to Gothic Voices Radio on Pandora (which I’ve become oddly addicted to), drink coffee and get caught up on my studies, I’m also grateful to have time to think a bit, to separate myself from the happy chaos that is the main ingredient in my daily life, so that I can sort out a few things that have been clogging up my spirit lately.

In a nutshell, here’s my issue: What do you do with negative people?

There are so many different kinds out there, and sometimes it feels like they’re constantly circling around me. I’ve unfollowed and blocked so many people on Facebook because of the constant political bickering that my friends list is down to pretty much just me and the three people I know who opened accounts eight years ago and haven’t been on since.

But social media and political negativity aren’t even the biggest problems. I’m finding myself having to deal with negativity on a regular basis, and it is getting exhausting. Pessimists, gossips, people who seem to take a genuine delight in looking for weakness or problems in others, and dragging them out for all to see.

The worst part for me is that I recently started falling into their behaviors myself. One day last week I was in a terrible mood, and for no reason that I could figure out. I snapped at a few people, and worse, I found myself talking negatively about others.

When I got home that night, I was exhausted and miserable. I felt around for something to blame – fall allergies, the rain, we’re out of coffee, the neighbors’ dogs are too loud – when I suddenly realized there was nothing wrong except that I had let myself get swept up into all the negativity that had been around me all day.

That realization stopped me right in my tracks.

I consider myself a positive person, and as clergy in training, part of my job is to set a good example, to do unto others as I would have done unto me, and to love. To structure my life around love, and to live it in love and service to others. I’ve adopted as the guiding verse of my ministry the words of the Apostle Paul in 1 Corinthians 16:14 … “Let all that you do be done in love.”

And yet that’s not what I had been doing. By letting myself fall prey to others’ negativity, I was not living in love. I wasn’t doing anything in love. All I was doing was complaining about everything to either my mother, The Guy or The Rev, and probably dragging them down in the process. What an ugly, vicious cycle.

Yesterday afternoon, I went to visit an elderly friend who has been sick at home for the past couple of weeks. For nearly three hours, we sat together, held hands, and talked. And just being there with her, hearing her stories, and knowing that despite all she has lived through, she feels happy and blessed, blew through me like a spring breeze and made me realize just how little the negative things actually matter.

It was then that I decided to spend this week focusing inward, and trying to get my own spirit back into balance.

We are all humans, being humans. I recognize that. Negativity is going to creep in no matter what we do, because some days, stuff just sucks. And if part of my job as a pastor and a Christian is to love and nurture others, I can’t slam the door in the faces of those who are caught up in their own tsunami of negativity. Too many people feel abandoned or hurt by the church as it is.

But where is the line? Where is the line between loving others and protecting myself? That’s what I’m spending this week meditating and praying on, while I fill up page after page of my journal, and listen for answers in the silence.

The post Christy Writes: Confronting the Negative appeared first on Christy The Writer.

Christy Writes: Asking the Real Questions

I’ve just come back from another of my ordination examinations – this one a four-hour psychological assessment. I didn’t know until after I’d already started down this path that such an assessment is required of anyone who is seeking ordination in the church.

My friend, who I’ll just call The Rev, told me not to stress too much about it. “My theory is that everyone who wants to be a minister is crazy,” he said cheerfully. “It’s just a question of management.”

Indeed.

As I was pulling into the parking lot of the building where the therapist was waiting to assess me, I realized that no question she could ask would tell her more about me than the fact that I had listened to Andy Gibb’s Greatest Hits for the duration of the 90-minute drive.

The assessment was long and thorough, which I suppose is a good thing. She showed me pictures on cards and had me tell her a story about each one. She showed me a series of patterns and had me tell her what came next. But the most fascinating thing about the whole process to me was the 500-plus question written exam that asked me questions like whether I ever heard voices in my head. Or in other people’s heads.

I emailed The Rev when I was finished.

“I told them I hate the government, like to eat chalk, and that my best friend is an invisible giant panda named Mr. Bobo. Think that was okay?”

“There’s nothing wrong with eating chalk,” he answered.

As I was driving back, I started thinking about their questions, and how different they were than what I’d ask, were I put in charge of this assessment. I personally think mine would be much more revealing. And helpful. Such as:

1. How aggressive a driver are you?

a) Not aggressive at all

b) Somewhat aggressive

c) Dangerously aggressive

d) New Jersey

2. Pumpkin Spice. Yay or nay?

a) Yay

b) Nay

c) Don’t really care

d) Oh please God, make it stop

3. When you’re stuck in traffic are you most likely to be…

a) Swearing

b) Crying

c ) Snacking

d) All of the above

4. How wild was your young adulthood?

a) Not wild in the least

b) A little wild

c) Why, what have you heard?

d) Charlie Sheen

5. At what age did you find out there is no Santa?

a) 5-6

b) 7-8

c) 9-10

d) What?!

6. Does this video make you…

a) Laugh

b) Laugh hysterically

c) Laugh until you wet your pants

d) There are no other options. Get out of here.

7. When you wake unexpectedly in the middle of the night do you…

a) Yawn, roll over, and go back to sleep

b) Glance at the clock, realize you don’t have to be up for hours, feel smug,

and go back to sleep

c) Blame your partner for waking you with his / her weird sounds

d) Spend the rest of the night listening to your brain go over every worry

you’ve had in the past 19 years

8. How many Girl Scout Peanut Butter Patties can you eat at one sitting?

a) Half a box

b) The whole box

c) What an invasive question, who are you to judge me?

d) I’m allergic to peanuts but try me with Thin Mints

9. Have you ever had an imaginary friend?

a) No

b) What do you mean had?

b) All my friends have been imaginary

c) Does the cast of Seinfeld count?

10. If Lifetime made a movie about your life, it would be called…

a) You’ve Got To Be Kidding Me

b) Are You Gonna Finish That?

c) Tears, Chocolate, and Gin

d) Wow, THAT Wasn’t A Good Idea

 

Cat in the Box

The post Christy Writes: Asking the Real Questions appeared first on Christy The Writer.

Christy Writes: On Loss and Lipstick

“There’s just something about red lipstick,” a male friend of mine mused the other day during a bigger conversation about fashion trends, the origin of which I can’t recall right now. As he wasn’t wearing red lipstick himself, I gathered he meant on women. I didn’t ask him to expand on the thought, but I can only guess that’s why I bought a tube of red lipstick when I was out earlier today.

That, and the fact that my little cat, Sophia, had to be euthanized this morning after a short but brutal bout with kidney failure. Sophia was a rescue, a senior cat who had been at the shelter for a long time because she was, to be honest, kind of cranky. Of course, that’s what I liked about her. She would purr at you for about eight seconds, then hiss and take a swipe at you. (I’m the same way before coffee. And sometimes after. And during.) She was tiny, old, and gold-colored, so of course I named her after Sophia on the Golden Girls. She became my buddy fast, though. We just kind of got each other.

One of the classes I’m taking at seminary this fall is called “Chronic Illness, Death and Loss” and during the lecture this week, the professor said that all change is a type of loss. Whether you expected it or not, whether it was your decision or not, any change that comes about in your life will bring with it a sense of loss, and the need to refocus on the “what now?”

I only had Sophia for about a year and a half, but I get very attached to my pets, so I’m not surprised by the aching sadness in my heart caused by knowing that even though I rescued her, I couldn’t save her. There’s a tiny golden hole in my life now, and even though it’s on a small scale, things have shifted in my life.

So I bought a red lipstick.

I’ve never worn lipstick this color before – it’s a deep crimson and when I wear lipstick at all, I favor rose pink.

I left the store, got into my car, opened the lipstick and put it on, studying myself in the rear view mirror. It didn’t even look like my mouth. The red was dark, like a scar, like a scream, like a thought you don’t want anyone to know you ever had. It made me look somewhere between Goth, European, and Betty Boop. I don’t know that I’m Betty Boop. But I don’t know that I’m not, either.

I considered wiping the lipstick off with a tissue and putting it away for a special occasion, but I looked at myself again and decided to leave it. Maybe it’s who I am now. Maybe it’s who I’ve always been. Or maybe it’s just who I’ll be today. And I cried a little. Then I put on some old Laura Nyro and I drove home.

As I write this, I’m looking at the folded up fleecy blanket Sophia was sleeping on this morning, and I’m wearing red lipstick, and I’m thinking about life and change and grief.

And I’ve just realized that this, all of this, is part of my training for this new path I’m on. If I can find the growth and the beauty in my life right now, I can help others find it in theirs. Because that’s just how it works. Love each other, guys – we’re all in this together.

The post Christy Writes: On Loss and Lipstick appeared first on Christy The Writer.

The Adventures of Jesus of Nazareth: The Real Superhero (Part 5)

Over the last four weeks, we’ve been focusing on Jesus as the real superhero. We’ve watched as he has healed the sick, restored life to the dead, walked on water, calmed the winds, cast out demons, and fed thousands of people with five loaves of bread and two small fish.

Compared to all of those things, today’s passage may seem a bit … anticlimactic. But that is exactly why I chose this scripture to end our series on. This is from the beginning of Mark, before we saw any of those miracles take place, yet it beautifully captures all that Jesus was and is, and did and does.

This passage provides the ultimate proof that Jesus is the only real superhero. He was then, he is today, and he always will be.

Let’s jump into this a bit here by taking a look at the background. This passage takes place after John the Baptist has been put in prison. Now we know that in the time before Jesus began preaching, John the Baptist had been preaching about the time to come. By the time we get to the Gospel of Mark, John’s message of repentance is over and it’s time for Jesus’ message to begin.

John had been preaching about a time to come, and Jesus was now preaching that the time HAD come. John preached a baptism of repentance for the remission of sins; Jesus preached that the kingdom itself was at hand, so believe the gospel. John did not preach the gospel; he preached that the gospel bearer was coming. See how this all fits together? Pretty cool, right?

To hear more, click here…

 

The post The Adventures of Jesus of Nazareth: The Real Superhero (Part 5) appeared first on Christy The Writer.