Monday, April 2, 2018

Give Us Good Courage

It's been nearly a week since I've been home from Holden Village for our LVC Spring Retreat and I'm still kind of reeling from the experience.


For those of you who don't know, Holden Village is a bit of a Lutheran dream. It's this tiny, beautiful village tucked away in a very remote part of Washington state which more or less exists as a place to help people in their journey of faith. It's one of those places that I'd always heard about but never dreamed that I'd actually get to see in person. Even now that I've seen it, that I've been there, it still feels a little like a dream, the only proof of its existence being the millions of photos I made people take of me while I was there.

Our journey to get to Holden started late Thursday night, after work. The trek to Holden was an event in itself. First we drove to the airport (20 mins?), then we flew to the Sea-Tac airport (1.5 hour flight?) before driving to Jack, our host and the Puget Sound PM's, house (45 min?) before we all passed out. We got to his and his wife Cinny's place at maybe 1:30 in the morning, and we needed to wake up at... what was it, 4 am? I don't remember. I kind of blacked all of this out because of how exhausted I was. Anyway, we got our minimal sleep before climbing back into the cars, and driving ~3.5 hours (? I once thought it was 5 hours whoops) to a ferry. Once we got to the ferry, it was a 45 minute ride to the doc. Then we climbed on some buses and took a ~45 min drive up into the mountains.

And then we were there.

Like I said, the traveling itself was a lot.

Most people say the ferry ride into Holden is so overwhelming and beautiful and I'd been super excited to experience it, but it was snowing, so... we didn't really get that view. The clouds blocked the mountains and the wind was wet and cold so we stayed inside the boat, wiping at the damp windows every now and then to see if it had cleared up. It never did, but even the remnants of the mountains in the clouds was still a bit much. Honestly? I don't even know how to talk about Holden. I've been pushing this blog post back for days because I just don't have the words to express how literally awe-inspiring that place is on scenery alone. Even these pictures are not enough to properly encapsulate the way that those tall mountains actually looked, how they made me feel. I feel like I stopped at least once an hour just to say holy shit! 


They were fake mountains. Had to be. No way could such wonderful, beautiful mountains actually exist.

It was a much needed weekend.

 The first day we had some scheduled stuff, talking about non-violent communication, and it was really good. Jack and Cinny listened to us, and as an LV I actually felt heard. It was wonderful seeing the volunteers from the Washington houses, and also super bittersweet because we knew it would be the last time we saw them. Those connections were only enhanced by the fact that there was literally no service or signal anywhere in the village.

(I did have the ability to log onto a tiny old computer that had WiFi if I really wanted to, and while the thought of tweeting from one of the most remote spaces in the US was really appealing I embraced my social media fast instead.)

Not having access to Twitter or Facebook was... annoying at first. I like knowing things that are happening, and the March For Our Lives was happening that weekend so I was worried something might happen. But by the second day I found myself checking my phone less, because I knew nothing would be there, and that was freeing in a different way. Maybe I'll start turning on airplane mode to get myself through the sludge of negative news that happens every week. Or maybe not.

Still, to not have access to the outside world was really good. I think it helped us have deeper conversations on a 1:1 level, as well as as a house.

We had a "free day" where I ended up snow-shoeing around with some other folks, and gosh, again there are no words for the beauty that was there. Impossible, awesome beauty. Those mountains are insane. We even got to sing Holden Evening Prayer, which was a real dream come true if we're being honest.

But as incredible as Holden was, there was a sense of unease that kind of lingered with me the whole time I was there.

For Lent, instead of removing something from my life, I decided to add something instead. If we're being honest, I haven't been too big into the spirituality part of LVC for a long time, so I wanted to do something intentional, every day, to maybe try and find my focus again.

I started off pretty strong. You see, I wanted to write one letter a day to someone that I care about. At the beginning I made a list, 40 names, and would cross off a name when I wrote a letter. The letters actually devolved into emails, which was nice. I'm much more articulate when I can go back and edit the things I want to say, and as someone who spends 90% of her time on the computer it made more sense. I had to sleuth around for some email addresses, but in general it wasn't too bad.

Eventually, I fell behind. I completed over half, which was great! But not all 40. (Sorry to the names that I didn't reach!) For me, though, my Lenten practice wasn't about rigidity. It was about reaching out to the people I care about most and keeping them in my life, somehow. Emails are really nice. If anyone wants to start up an email correspondence, let me know, because while I love handwritten letters there's a certain kind of joy that comes from receiving an email as well.

(jenntapler@gmail.com)

But... it was for the best that I fell behind. Part of the reason I made the list of 40 people that I did was because I had something that I wanted to say to each of those people. I thought I could dredge up some of my own shit, confront some issues, etc etc. It would be a good way to express how I was feeling while also being a daily practice.

At Holden, though, I realized a lot of stuff. Or well--I realized one pretty big thing that I need to figure out how to carry with me and address now that I'm home.

You see, I joined LVC because it's Lutheran. It's the Lutheran Volunteer Corps. They put that on the shirts, but the organization itself tends to stomp down on the actual Lutheran-ness of the program. My roommate Amanda talks about it a lot, how even though this is a Lutheran organization LVC tries so hard to be accepting that it kind of forgets about this part of it. Which--is okay, I guess. It's nice to be accepting and open to everyone's experiences. I mean, Lutheranism in general is pretty accepting and open. But a big part of why I joined LVC was because I thought it would help me reconnect with my faith. With being a Lutheran.

Part of the reason I haven't is my own fault, of course. I could go to church if I wanted to. I could reach out to Bible study groups if I thought that was what I wanted. But part of it is because I sort of thought being here, with LVC, I would have those things just sort of... here for me. And they're not. It's not.

When I talk about my faith I often try to frame it as needing a boost. Or needing to be recharged. Or restarted. Or reawakened. Etc. etc. etc. But the truth of it is...

God, the truth of it sucks. The truth is I have really no fucking idea where to even start anymore.

My faith doesn't need restarted or reawakened. If anything, it needs reborn. It's just--gone.

I realized that at Holden. I've had some pretty big hits when it comes to life, and in so many ways, all of those big hits have been kind of directly related to my faith. It's like every time I figure out how to stand on my own two feet again, life comes around with a bat to smash my kneecaps.

And that's where I am now. On the floor, by myself, the baseball bat sitting steps away.

I've been talking about faith like this for years. That I just need a revival. That I need some sort of support and I'll be there. But that's bullshit. It's bullshit, and it's important that I address that. To keep pretending like I'm this girl who's So In Tune With Her Faith and Religion is just crap. I'm not that person. I haven't been that person for a long time.

I desperately want to be that girl. But I'm not. There's nothing here.

I've looked for connection in prayer, and I can't find it. Maybe I'm praying wrong. There are a billion ways to pray, though, and people tell me that none of them are wrong. And I've looked for connection in nature. Which--it's there. The world is so beautiful. But it's missing some bigger component I can't put words to. And I've looked for connection in people, which might be the closest I've gotten, but that divine shift just doesn't exist.

Sometimes it feels like I'm throwing myself at something that just... doesn't want me.

And that's bullshit too. If God exists, which I'm leaning towards a Yes for the time being, of course He wouldn't not want me. Right? That's a whole different ethical dilemma I'd have to face. But still I have made the effort, again and again, to find this God and I feel like I don't get anything back. I literally have sat outside the chapel and wept over the fear of losing this faith. I've opened my arms, I've listened to stories, I've read and I've prayed, I've sung the songs, I've made the effort. But every time I push, I get the push back that leaves me sprawled out on the ground again instead of the hand to hold.

So I've been thinking, maybe I just need to give up for a bit.

Which sounds awful, I know, but I think that's what I need. If I keep giving myself to a God who keeps politely raising His hand at me to say, no no, not now, then I'm going to give up for good. It's exhausting to want to be so involved in something that seems like it doesn't want me. So a break from trying might be good. I don't want to give up for good. I want God in my life, and faith in my life, and that spiritual community in my life. So a break might be good.

It's just--I don't know where to start. Maybe that's the biggest issue. It all seems so daunting, starting over. Or maybe not even starting over, but starting from somewhere closer to the beginning than I'm used to.

I don't know. It's all a bit of a mess. All I know for sure is that I've got to try something different, because whatever it is I have now isn't working.

Hopefully by the end of this year, I'll at least know where to start.

(He is risen, indeed.)

Happy Easter, everyone.

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