Conference. Conference. Conference.
Much happiness and liberation, tied with much sadness and challenge. This is my third SCM conference, and this seems to be the running theme throughout them all; they are always a time of significant life changes, new beginnings, and cutting endings.
I think I’ll focus on the joy and liberation. The challenge is too tricky to deal with via paper.
SCM is my family. These people are all so important to me. If I have a home it is with this community of people, these quintessential ragamuffins who are all so beautiful in their honesty and in our collective relative brokenness. Behold the bread and wine.
Part of my joy in this is my ability to serve in ways which I am unable to serve back in my real life. My church relations are so estranged and painful, and I have been kept out of full participation in my evangelical home for a number of reasons (mostly my GENDER, which pisses me off. Anyway . . . ). Being able to participate within worship by speaking, drumming, and administering communion was so healing for me. I felt supported, a vital part of a spiritual community, affirmed in my calling as a child of God and as a prophet of Christ. I gave and I received and I was healed and I had a part in healing others. ‘twas beautiful. And I feel hopeful about life and the church again for the first time in eons.
Sort of a spiritual refueling, a remembering of who I really am, who I really want to be, and a commitment to dealing with my oozing junk.
Feels good. Feels scary. Feels like myself again, or at least on the road back to engaging myself again.
Thanks be to God.