The Gift of Vulnerability

Uncategorized

I have a difficult time “tooting my own horn,” as they say so I am grateful Joyce Hollyday who helped me write my book, Forgetting the Former Things: Brain Injury’s Invitation to Vulnerability and Faith, wrote a post on her blog about it on June 6 2019.  (joycehollyday.com).  I am printing it below.

“The jangle of an incoming text woke me from a deep sleep. “We’re in trouble,” it began. It was 5:16 a.m. California time. I was 2,000 miles from home, jet-lagged and groggy. I managed to send a reply to Michael along the lines of “Be there as soon as I can.”

Michael and me with Sparky at the beach

Tamara, Michael, and Sparky at the beach

Michael Galovic and Tamara Puffer met almost 25 years ago at the Open Door Community in Atlanta, when he was living there as a resident volunteer and she showed up one day to help out in the soup kitchen with the youth group from the suburban Presbyterian church where she served as associate pastor. Tamara kept coming back. Her time at the Open Door reshaped her theology and calling, and she began seeking a position where she could serve marginalized people like the homeless ones and former prisoners who were revealing Jesus to her there in transformative ways.

In August 1996, just three months after they married, both Tamara and Michael sustained brain injuries in a car accident, Tamara’s the more serious. I was in Atlanta then, just starting my second year of seminary at Emory and spending a lot of time at the Open Door. I remember the shock of the news and the prayers that went up from many corners.

Tamara spent two weeks in an induced coma and then, though she wasn’t fully aware of it at the time, woke up to a totally different life. She had to relearn how to walk and speak and write. A former professional violinist, she no longer possessed the mental focus or manual dexterity to play, and she had to climb out of an abyss of despair to accept that she would never again serve a church as its minister.

Tamara and I caught up with each other again years later when we were both living in Asheville, North Carolina. She asked if I would help her write a book. One of the great joys of my life is working with people to bring their life journeys into print, and Tamara’s, I knew, is among the most extraordinary. I felt honored by the invitation.

CASCADE_Template

It took us three years to birth Forgetting the Former Things. During Tamara’s long rehabilitation after the accident, on nights when dread had kept her from falling asleep, words from the 43rd chapter of Isaiah echoed through her mind: “Do not remember the former things…I am about to do a new thing.” The book title is a double entendre that speaks of both the memory challenges that result from brain injury and the need to let go of what once was in order to be open to re-imagining one’s life.

Throughout our work, I was moved by Tamara’s heart, courage, and perseverance. The challenge of writing a book seemed at times overwhelming, and more than once she considered giving up, but always she found the strength to keep on. We can all rejoice that she did. Forgetting the Former Things is a rare tapestry of first-person faith journey woven with gritty theological reflection and persistent hope.

In June 2017, with the book almost finished, we were at Azusa Pacific University near Los Angeles, where we were scheduled to lead a workshop at the Summer Institute on Theology and Disability. Travel is particularly difficult for many people with brain injuries, and the “trouble” came to Tamara as a result of the stress, disorientation, and overstimulation of a cross-country trip via two of the world’s busiest airports, compounded by jet lag and lack of sleep. Michael’s early-morning text was the beginning of a grueling, heartbreaking day that ended with Tamara being taken by police and emergency medical workers to a behavioral health hospital.

“This is the worst thing that could have happened,” I lamented to Michael, both of us raw from concern and exhaustion. I thought of all the time spent planning our workshop, and Tamara’s excitement and anticipation of it, now all lost. Three days later I was shocked when she announced upon her release from the hospital that she wanted to offer the workshop at a rescheduled time. She went right to work modifying it to incorporate the recent trauma.

My fear that the experience was a setback that would derail completion of Forgetting the Former Things evaporated when Tamara instead gave it a prominent place in the book. She wrote that, in a world of fast food and instant communication, of cutthroat competition and the illusion of self-sufficiency, where busyness and stress are considered normal, “Those of us who ‘can’t keep up’ can be teachers…Those of us with disabilities offer the world the gift of our vulnerability. We know that life is an endlessly moving target. We’re always responding to uncertainty, re-creating ourselves, being reshaped by the Spirit as we journey on through the wilderness to the next mountain.”

Back in 1996, a few weeks into her intensive rehabilitation after the accident, Tamara had a profound insight, which she also reflected on in Forgetting the Former Things: “In one life-shattering moment I had gone from feeling like someone in control—with a clear career path, the privilege of choice, and a measure of power—to being an invisible person on the sidelines, merely trying to cope with each challenge as it came and get through each hour as it unfolded. I wasn’t simply feeling called to ministry among the marginalized. I was the marginalized.”

After California, Tamara began embracing a calling that she has named “minister of vulnerability.” At the workshop there, and wherever she and I have spoken to crowds about her recently published book, her story moves others to share their own. As they pour out their deepest fears and longings, often with great emotion, I think about how much this world needs Tamara Puffer’s ministry. And I whisper a prayer of thanks for her courage.

Forgetting the Former Things: Brain Injury’s Invitation to Vulnerability and Faith, by Tamara Puffer with Joyce Hollyday, is available through bookstores and at https://wipfandstock.com/forgetting-the-former-things.html.”

 

Faith 4 Justice

Uncategorized

Faith 4 Justice is a group of ecumenical church leaders in Asheville led by Tami Forte Logan who have been meeting for a couple of years. Tami sent out a reminder for the meeting and it was the next day. I had planned on attending another meeting in the afternoon but decided to try doing both because I’m very interested in Faith 4 Justice. Of course after this meeting, I realized attending both wasn’t a good idea. Many years ago, I would have attended both and then paid the price.

It met at Haywood Methodist Church right up the street from my house so I could walk. My neighborhood is now one of “the places to be” in Asheville so many cars zoomed by and it was noisy. If housing costs in 2005 were what they are now, we never could have afforded this home. It’s small but I do like it.

Walking to the meeting, I didn’t put in my bright pink earplugs -a mistake – for in the five minutes it took me to walk there, I became overstimulated. I purposely arrived late since I knew net-working was the first order of business and the stimulation would be too much for me. When I arrived, conversations were still buzzing and my brain was tired. Not a good way to begin!

Due to my mental flexibility and overstimulation issues, all meetings are hard. In fact, I’ve finally decided to resign from many committees and Presbyterians have a lot off meetings! I often don’t say much because conversation moves so quickly and by the time I think of a comment, the subject has changed. My brain also freezes and I forget what I’m going to say.

White Fragility coverFaith 4 Justice is studying and reading this book together. This was announced at the last meeting I attended but since I didn’t write it down, I forgot. After the business portion of the meeting, Tami told us to split into groups of two and answer a few questions, one at a time. What that meant was one person from each group speaking and there were about 7 groups. I knew it was a difficult environment for me, so I slipped out and “rested my brain” returning after the discussions.

I’m aware that it is important to split up in small groups for workshops and meetings but doing this is usually impossible for me and I don’t get anything out of it. This day was especially hard since I had been tired when I arrived. Sometimes I can push through it but I didn’t want to do that this time.

I plan on reading the book but have not yet begun. In fact, I have much solo writing and reading that I need to do so not having to push through so many meetings will help. I really do better when I’m alone as long as I get to work and stay off Facebook!

Gospel of Mark

Uncategorized

The gospel of Mark has two endings. The first ending is in 16:8 while the second adds ten more verses. I won’t go into all the reasons there are two endings but I will say, the first one speaks to me. The following is Mark 16:1-8 in the Common English Bible (the women’s edition).

I first heard of this translation from Rev. Dr. Jaime Clark-Soles at the Summer Institute for Theology and Disability a few years ago. Here it is:

“When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome brought spices so that they could go and anoint Jesus’ dead body. Very early on the first day of the week, just after sunrise, they came to the tomb. They were saying to each other, ‘Who’s going to roll the stone away from the entrance for us?’ When they looked up, they saw that the stone had been rolled away. (And it was a very large stone!)

“Going into the tomb, they saw a young man in a white robe seated on the right side; and they were startled. But he said to them,. ‘Don’t be alarmed! You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised. He isn’t here. Look, here’s the place where they laid him. Go, tell his disciples, especially Peter, that he is going ahead of you into Galilee. You will see him there, just as he told you.

“Overcome with terror and dread, they fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.”

This bible has comments scattered throughout. The comment prior to this passage says in part, “Perhaps this ending casts us in the role of the women, perhaps we confront this question of faith; Will we be silent and fearful, or will we proclaim God’s life-giving power in those places where we assumed death to have the upper hand.”

I may be taking the comment a little out of context but what I hear goes something like this. “Tamara, you have just written a book with Joyce Hollyday called, Forgetting the Former Things: Brain Injury’s Invitation to Vulnerability and Faith. How can you use this experience to proclaim God’s life-giving power to those who have sustained brain injuries? How can your story proclaim life-giving power to all those around you?”

I am a little uncomfortable being so vulnerable with those around me. But perhaps my willingness to share my vulnerability will give others courage to share there tender places. I have other thoughts about this book, but it is late and Holy Saturday will soon be over. Tomorrow I will celebrate Jesus’ resurrection and his life giving power.

Wilderness II

cognitive overload;, over stimulation, Spirit, Uncategorized, wilderness

Lately, I’ve noticed my brain injury challenges are more present than they sometimes are. I’m trying to manage them but it is very hard. Yesterday I said to Michael, “Why don’t I ever see other survivors dealing with over-stimulation and cognitive issues?  I see brain injury folks all the time attending meetings, workshops and other events and they don’t seem to struggle as I do.”

His answer? “Probably because they don’t get out in the community like you.”  A light went on in my head and I thought back to all I’ve learned about brain injury.  Perhaps the folks I see are less challenged by cognitive overload and stimulation issues. They may have other reactions such as slow speech or difficulty in using their hands or legs,

March signIn addition, I feel called to work for justice in my world. That doesn’t make me better than others.  It just gives me a different calling.  I’ve chosen to continue working for justice even if it means sometimes exacerbating my brain injury weaknesses.

For example in Atlanta I pushed through those challenges by doing such things as visiting Terry Mincey on death row or spending 24 hours on the streets with the Open Door Community. The price paid was having to take it easy for several days. Here in Asheville, I choose to be arrested in the Moral Monday movement in Raleigh – four hours away.  Again, I rested for days afterwards.

I’m so glad I did these things but I’m not sure I would want to pay the same price again. Now I’m deciding how important an issue is and whether my presence matters before making the decision to participate

Life is a journey and the wilderness often changes around us. I can’t keep living the way I used to live.  I must always choose the path I believe God is calling me to travel.  God then gives me what I need for the journey.

All of us are living in the wilderness and must listen for the Spirit’s voice. What is the Spirit saying to me now?  I’m not sure.  What is the Spirit guiding you to do?  Feel free to answer in the comments because we are all in this life together.  I’m interested.

Vulnerability

Grace Covenant Presbyterian Church, Spirit, Uncategorized, Vulnerability
GCPC bulletin picture

Ultimately, when you’re at the edge, you have to go forward or backward;
if you go forward, you have to jump together.
~ Yo-Yo Ma

A couple of Sundays ago, Marcia Mount Shoop, pastor at Grace Covenant Presbyterian Church, preached a sermon that really impressed me. I was out of town that Sunday so I read it. (here)   (picture above from bulletin)

In it she tells the story of Ray Hinton – a man who spent 30 Years on death row before being exonerated and released. “After three years of talking to no one, he heard another {prisoner} crying. He heard crying a lot on death row….but this time something happened.  Ray got up and started to pace.  He could feel something stirring, but he resisted it, telling himself, ‘His crying has got nothing to do with me.’ ”

Ray’s mind wandered as he paced in his cell. Marcia said, “The Spirit was on the move. As the man cried again, Ray realized that he, too, was crying. He sat down on his bed and started to weep for the man jailed near his cell.”

He wrote later, “I was on death row not by my own choice …despair was a choice. Hatred was a choice. Anger was a choice….Hope was a choice.”  Faith and love are choices.  So he made the choice to reach out – to love.

“Hey, are you all right over there?”

The man told him he just found out his mother had died. Ray said, “I’m sorry man.  I really am.”  This was followed by other voices from the cells around him.  “Sorry for your loss” and “Sorry, man.  Rest  in peace.”

Ray wrote, “I wasn’t expecting to have my heart break that night. I wasn’t expecting to end three years of silence.  It was a revelation to realize that I wasn’t the only man on death row.  I was born with the same gift from God we all are born with – the impulse to reach out and lessen the suffering of another human being.  It was a gift and we each had a choice whether to use this gift or not.”

Marcia continued, “Ray’s profound vulnerability as a black man sentenced to death for a crime he did not commit had a ripple effect onto those who loved him.” Thinking about those on his cell block, I would add “and on everyone around him.”

While often it is not a choice to be vulnerable, sometimes it can be. All of us have vulnerabilities but we often hide them because we don’t want to seem weaker than those around us.

People with disabilities often don’t have that choice. Some of us have hidden disabilities that you can’t see.  I’m able to hide my cognitive overload, spatial orientation and other issues.  However, when I do this, I’m a zombie, often sleeping for many days to recover.  Since moving to Asheville when possible, I’ve chosen not to hide my vulnerabilities and be my true self.

I do hate when I say something like, “I have to miss that meeting because I’m cognitively maxed out,” and the response is “At least you have an excuse.” I want to scream but instead think silently, “My excuse is taking care of myself which we all must do including you!”  Perhaps one day I’ll have the courage to say it out loud.

In our society, taking care of ourselves is looked down upon. We’re rewarded for working long hours or serving on committees at the expense of our health.

Even in church, folks look up to those who are serving on several committees, working a full time job and taking care of their families. Folks like this are seen as “better Christians.” Even Jesus got away from the crowds to rejuvenate. If Jesus had to do it, who are we to think we don’t?

I must note these words about vulnerability are penned to a mostly white middle class audience. Many folks who live in lower socioeconomic or racial status do not have this choice.  They have to work in order to put food on the table and take care of their families.  They have to hide their vulnerabilities and this makes me very sad.

Take a moment now and think about your vulnerabilities.  Do you feel comfortable sharing them?  Is it safe? What about folks around you?  I would love to hear your thoughts about vulnerability in the comment section.

On the Path of Liberation

Uncategorized

Last Sunday I led the “Call to the Table” at Circle of Mercy, the church I attend on Sunday evenings. In it I quoted part of the evening’s “Call to Worship,” written by Ken Sehested. “A life in Christ is an invitation to live according to a different rhythm. It stimulates the courage to move forward even when the path seems to crumble beneath our feet.”

I added, “In our current world, it feels like our path is not just crumbling but is leading us over a cliff.”

narrow pumkinIn my walk this morning in the fall coolness as the leaves were changing, I took a different path than I usually do. On this leaf covered street, I felt fall in the air for the first time. Sparky and I dawdled a bit as I allowed him to sniff the wonderful smells and as I looked the Halloween decorations.

The path did not crumble beneath my feet nor was I afraid I would fall off a cliff, but rather it was a peaceful morning. With no sidewalks, I was forced to walk on the road. Every time a car came whizzing by – going much faster than they should have been in a neighborhood – I moved to the side of the road, sometimes having to walk on people’s lawns.I was reminded how important it is for us to rest and enjoy theskelotin world around us, in the midst of our current chaos.

I live one block away from Vermont St. which is closed to cars on Halloween night and the street is full of trick-or-treaters. I took pictures of some of the homes adorned for Halloween and some are included in this post.

Nancy Sehested said in her sermon, “We’re on tough journey. The tyrants are strong and they are crushing the very people who we long to liberate…..we want power. The domination systems want power. Our power is in service to God’s system of love and liberation. Our power is to demonstrate the power of God to overcome fear with love.”

spider webThe folks on Vermont probably thought nothing about such things. They just wanted a safe and fun place for their children to be on Halloween night. However, without knowing it, they are shouting out to the powers around us. “We can enjoy God’s world! We can laugh and be a community just as God has called us to be. We walk not on a crumbling path but a safe and joyful one.”

Nancy ended her sermon with these words: “Friends, there is danger on either side of us. But don’t be afraid. We are able. God is giving us all the power we n need to make this journey of life and liberation together.”

Let it be so.

Walking Through the Wilderness

Michael Moore, resting brain, Uncategorized, wilderness

As I come out of the wilderness, my tendency is to begin participating in too many things. This is a symptom of much of upper class, upper- middle class and middle class American culture.  As our society becomes more stratified this is happening right now under Mr. Trump – although it began happening much earlier.  As others have said, our current president only brought things that have been occurring, to the surface.

I saw Michael Moore’s new movie Fahrenheit 11.9 yesterday. Whether you like Moore or not – many folks do not – you need to see this movie for it describes exactly what is happening today in our country.  It frightened me and I hope it frightens others to action.

Back to the wilderness and the path “in the mighty waters (Isaiah 43:16a CEB) ” stretching before me. I asked Michael to help me remember not to do too much.  I need him to tell me gently perhaps in the form of a question – not what sounds like an order – or I will rebel.  “I don’t care what he thinks!  I can do all this!” I’ll think to myself.  When I am angry at him, I’m really angry at my cognitive fatigue and over-stimulation issues. I long to be as I was before but my path through the mighty waters, has changed.

Front Yard 27 Jarrett StThis changed path means I have to make choices or I’ll over-do it. Yesterday I worked outside in the garden and it wore me out.  So many sights, sounds, and thoughts overloaded me.  Afterwards, I put on headphones and listened to Yo-Yo Ma perform the cello concerto in b minor.  I closed my eyes and rested in the music.

I did try to rest without listening to the music, but I couldn’t stop thoughts from invading my mind. “I need to make a list of the plants in the garden to know what they need to thrive.” A neighbor in his 70’s walked by me as I worked and told me he had recently fallen and broke several ribs.  I clicked into my caring mode – one of the hazards of being a minister – and told him not to walk too far since his broken ribs needed to heal which meant sitting quietly.

It doesn’t take too much to challenge my cognition these days. Just being out in the front yard was all it took.  I needed a way to focus on something else and the concerto did the trick.

I will continue walking this path through the wilderness with God by my side.

Asheville Women’s March

Uncategorized

26734482_10155832346710853_7831015963479294712_n[1]

Women’s March in downtown Asheville

The second annual women’s March in Asheville was Saturday, Jan.20 – a week ago. I didn’t attend last year but was determined to go this time. Michael had the flu for ten days so he couldn’t go with me.  I don’t do well in large crowds due to brain injury limitations so I called a woman who lives close to me and we planned on taking the bus together.  I’m comfortable riding the bus since I’ve taken it often but I wasn’t comfortable finding this rally.

Taking the bus puts me in contact with folks I don’t usually meet during my day. There’s a real push in Asheville to get folks to ride the bus even if they own a car but it is still used mostly by folks who don’t have alternative transportation.  I’d love to take it to Grace Covenant Presbyterian Church but with the transfer it takes 1 1/2 hours which isn’t workable.  Many folks have no choice but I can usually find – not always – but usually, a ride.

I was supposed to meet my friend at the stop on Haywood road right by my house. I told her it usually runs late but when I arrived, she wasn’t there.  As luck would have it, it was closer to being on time so my friend missed it. I boarded with my sign figuring I could just follow the crowd to the rally.

After arriving at the bus station, I met another woman walking alone and began talking to her as we walked to the rally. I told her about my TBI and some of its challenges and since she wasn’t going with anyone, we went together. Where we stood, it was impossible to hear the speakers so I weaved my way through the crowd until I got to a place where I could hear them.  She didn’t follow so I lost her.  I do hope I meet her again.

I didn’t know all the speakers but loved the energy there. I know it was a women’s march but the first one was held the day after Trump’s installation last year and so this march has morphed into a march against Trump and his administration.  Perhaps when we get another administration, it can be a true women’s march.

I saw a woman in the crowd sitting on the ground next to a child in a wheel chair. Everyone around her was standing and I was aware I was going to have to sit down as well so I plopped myself right down behind her. While seated, I could close my eyes and block out all visual stimulation, which always helps.  I also can’t stand long for a rally. I’m pretty sure if I hadn’t seen her sitting down, I would have weaved my way out of the crowd to find a place to “rest my brain.”

March sign

my sign for the march

After the program, the march began. I discovered later that four high school girls had planned it.  I don’t think any adults stepped up to help them.  The march received some criticism because we had to march on two small sidewalks instead of in the street because a permit wasn’t secured.  In spite of some of the difficulties, they did an amazing job.

After the march I was exhausted and needed to “rest my brain” before taking the bus home. I decided to go into First Presbyterian Church since I was familiar with it and knew I could get in.  After lying down on a bench in a hallway for a while, I decided my brain had rested enough so I filled my water bottle and went downstairs looking for food.  I felt a little faint so the Saturday Sanctuary volunteers gave me broth from the bottom of the soup pot and a few crackers.

The second shift of Saturday sanctuary volunteers began at 2 PM and the woman I was supposed to meet for the march, was working. She had gone to the march but drove her car after missing the bus.  There is no way I could have worked Saturday Sanctuary after marching for the stimulation overwhelmed me. I’m finally getting over not being able to do as much as others.  A former cognitive therapist reminded me that my plate is now smaller than other people’s and they can put more on it then I can.  God doesn’t care how much people can do but rather God cares that one loves others and works for justice in this world.

My friend Scott Owen works on a radio show and he asked if he could interview me about my experience. I said yes and he told me what he was going to ask.  It was fun.  Here is a tape of the interview.  The whole thing is interesting but my part begins at 2:59.

https://www.ashevillefm.org/post/afm-news-team-covers-the-2018-asheville-womens-march/

Advent

Uncategorized

Yesterday was the first day of Advent, a time of expectation. It’s funny because I never really understood Advent as expectation before worshiping at Grace Covenant Presbyterian. When I was a kid, I expected to get lots of gifts but I knew that wasn’t what this meant. Under Mark Ramsey’s leadership, the sanctuary remained plain without all the Christmas decorations I saw elsewhere.  We sang no Christmas Carols but rather Advent hymns.  It became a sort of journey for me which I appreciated.

supermoon, Jarkarta. IndonesiaI love moons and right now, we have a super moon which happens rarely. Here is a picture of the moon in Jakarta, Indonesia with two symbols that I love:  a moon and star.  I’m aware this is not a typical Advent picture but for me it’s perfect..  I’m looking forward to contemplating what God is calling me to do next.  The moon always reminds that God is with me – even in the darkness.  The star reminds me that I’m on a journey just as the Wise folks traveled to meet the Christ child.

is morning I watched the start of the New Poor People’s Campaign in Washington D.C. with the prophet, Dr. William Barber. Leaders in every faith tradition spoke and gave support for this campaign. I’ve been very depressed about our nation’s budget but watching this, energized me.  I am on a journey.  I don’t know where it’s going to lead but God is with me.

I imagine members of this campaign will eventually do civil disobedience.. I don’t think I’m called to do civil disobedience again but I will listen for God’s voice to make sure.  I want to be part of this campaign in some way and I will wait until the Spirit moves in me to act. We sang a song at Circle of Mercy last night with words written by Br. Roger of Taize and the music written by Mark Siler.  It’s one of my favorites.

“Rest your heart in God, let yourself float on the safe waters,
Living life as it comes, with all the rough weather it may bring.
Give, without counting how many years are left,
Give, not worried about surviving as long as possible.
Rest your heart in God.”

This Advent, I will rest my heart in God.

Publishing Woes

cognitive overload; mental fatigue, Depression, Executive Function, flexibility, Frontal Lobe, memory, rainbow;moon; cognitive overload; initiation, Spirit, stress, structure, Uncategorized

brainAn experience happened to me this week that reminded me of the challenges of having a brain injury. I read an article run in the New York Times years ago this week. I shared it on Facebook with the following doctor’s quote lifted out. “People hold on to hope that just as when they survived the crash and they had this miraculous recovery, that they will overcome these challenges that other people may not in this miraculous way.  That’s not going to happen.”

For me it isn’t so much overcoming my challenges. It’s that I remember what I was able to do before so easily and it’s not easy now. As a result, I often say I’m going to do something without remembering how stressful it is for me to get it done. I might be able to accomplish the task but it means dropping everything else in my life.  After twenty years, I’m realizing few things are pressing enough for me to make this sacrifice.

For example my book memoir with some theological reflection is ready for the publishing stage. I could not have accomplished this without Joyce Hollyday’s help.  Yes I wrote much of it but Joyce added to it and edited it in a way that makes organizational and theological sense.  We discussed the theological pieces but she actually wrote them with a tiny bit of input from me.

Thinking theologically is very difficult for a brain injury survivor. This involves drawing many pieces together in one’s mind to come up with a clear idea, which is considered an “executive function”. Due to my frontal lobe injury, this is now very difficult if not impossible to do.  Theological reflection also is hard due to my mental flexibility, cognitive overload, and cognitive fatigue issues.

In the process of writing the book, Joyce and I did a dance with the theological pieces. I wanted to write them and my old way of being was to do this with no problem. I often told Joyce I would write something but after trying, I couldn’t come up with anything.  I didn’t want to admit that and I think this was hard for Joyce.  It didn’t happen all at once but slowly, I realized I wasn’t going to be able to write those pieces so I asked her to write them.
manuscript The same thing happened with Bill Gaventa’a request for a one page summary of the book. He is attending a conference next week and needed to have something available for folks to read.  My old self wanted to write it but Joyce gently reminded me of the speed of my writing.   It needed to be written quickly so she put it together.

I asked her if my contact information should be with hers on top. She hesitated and explained she knew the publishing process better than I.  Then she told me when Bill asked for a copy of the book so he could write the forward, I sent him an old version so that’s what he read.  Joyce sent him the newer version which he read while on a plane.

In the publishing world, mistakes like that cannot be made. Even after twenty years, it is hard to admit that I cannot do some things on my own. I’m getting much better with that realization but it still is a challenge.