Holy Sticky Notes

If I’m honest, I have no idea why I bought Laurie Brock and

Mary Koppel’s book Where God Hides Holiness. But if I’m really, really honest it’s probably because of the subtitle Thoughts on Grief, Joy and the Search for Fabulous Heels  or the picture of the gorgeous pink stiletto on the cover. What I do know for certain, is in November of 2014, I read that book cover to cover 3 times in one week. Okay, I’m a priest—I cannot lie—I read the whole book cover to cover once and then Laurie Brock’s portion twice more.

It’s not that Mary Koppel’s section wasn’t awesome; it was and is (read it again last week), but in reading Brock’s section I could just, well I could just identify. I thought I was reading about myself. Initially I thought it was because we both seem to cry a lot, both love SEC football (although I question her choice of teams—Go Dawgs!), both wear high heels and both were raised with Southern “rules.”

It didn’t take me long, however, to understand it was because she was speaking directly to the pain, isolation and fear I was desperately attempting to avoid. I had been ordained for just shy of two years, and I was terrified God had made a mistake; I had made a mistake; 3 Dioceses had made a mistake—either one of those mistakes had been made or I was losing my mind. I didn’t know who I was anymore. I felt lost, lonely and terrified.

I was the associate of a parish full of wonderful people whom I loved and still love dearly, but I felt like I was going crazy. I was seeing things, feeling things, experiencing things that no one else seemed to notice, so I began to think it was me—I began to believe there was some deep flaw within myself, and I began to question and doubt not only my ordination, but my whole being.

I could quote something from almost every page, but the summation was, “In the dark, I felt safe. I felt safe enough to name some of the mutilations—I didn’t feel valued or heard; I didn’t feel authentically me; I didn’t feel safe.” (kindle location 1515). As I read those words I felt both an intense sadness and overwhelming relief (and of course I cried). Finally I could put words to what I was feeling, and I wasn’t going crazy.

I emailed Laurie at her parish and told her I felt like I was living her story; she told me to trust myself and to trust the voice of God I was hearing. Two days later I met with my Bishop and without knowing what the future would hold with his full support, resigned my position.

Fast forward 3 ½ years—I waited semi-patiently for Brock’s new book to come out. I’d been hearing about it and couldn’t wait to read it. Then I was contacted by Paraclete Press and asked if they could send me a copy and would I read and then write about it? Honestly I wasn’t sure they had the right person (still working on that self-confidence) but I jumped at the chance, and then definitely not patiently, waited for the book to arrive.

I wanted to rush through the book and get on with my writing about it, but that was not possible. Just about every page had some sentence or paragraph I needed to read and re read and then process. The book is full of sticky notes, underlining, and journaling. (so no I won't be loaning it out, but I'll buy you your own....)

After the first few chapters I had convinced myself to find a place to begin riding again—I wanted to find the holiness in horses Laurie found. But when I thought about it my soul didn’t sing and I realized what I wanted was to be Laurie—the fashionista, horse riding, amazing priest, and most importantly author.

What’s amazing about her writing, however, is that she doesn’t let anyone stay in the place of dreaming about being someone else. Instead she challenges, pushes, and inspires you to want to find out who your best self is, what your deepest desires are, what makes your soul sing.

Should every female priest read this book? ABSOLUTELY, but so should every male priest. But I’m not going to stop there—every person should read this book, and I mean that—EVERY person—lay or ordained, any faith or those of no faith. This book gently, and sometimes not so gently, pushes you to confront parts of your life that are difficult, that are false, that are deadening and also provides the space to assist you in discovering who your authentic self is and what your deepest desires are—it demands that whether you want to or not, whether you are ready or not, to begin to uncover who God created you to be. And it does it with the ordinariness of riding horses. You never have to sit on a horse for this book to change your life.

I want to write; I want to be an author—is that who God created me to be? I don’t know, but I do know this book has lit a fire in me—not to be Laurie Brock but to pursue what I’ve been talking, thinking and dreaming about for years—to try to discover if being a writer is part of my calling. I’ve been sometimes showing up at the “barn”, but not getting out of the car, and I certainly have not gone into the ring. That is going to change.

I don’t know if I’ll gallop down this path, canter down this path, trot down this path, or take a slow, gentle and deliberate walk, but I do know I won’t be able to stop showing up.

Oh, and by the way, I have found a parish and a position in the Diocese that “let’s me sing my song.” (Where God Hides Holiness, kindle location 1952)