cotton candy in my armpits. fast food and gilmore girls...

Just on the way home from Caledonia today, I did a lot of thinking. Not only did I realize that I completely ditched one of my past professors and her family for dinner that we were supposed to plan for "sometime in May", but I got to thinking about my view on ministry and where I stand as a future pastor or "director" or whatever people want to call it these days.

But first, let me just start by admitting that, in the spirit of Lorelai Gilmore - starving and stuck in a B&B - I am now about to "eat the fuzzy Certs", so to speak. I remembered sometime around 3:00 this afternoon that I'd forgotten some leftover Chinese in the back of my car overnight and for the entire stupidly humid day. I just got home and I'm fully eating an incredibly scorching version of it (in the attempt to kill the many bacteria that had a chance to form and multiply over the past 22 hours or so) but only somewhat enjoying it. Sad. One of these days, I will find a fuzzy Certs, though...and oh will I ever eat it. :) Just to be like my hero.

Speaking of heroes and greatness and inspiration...I've come to realize that there are some new awesome and wonderful names that I must give my children. I think it's incredibly ironic that I've always raved about only having boys, but I can't - for the life of me - think of any cool boys names. I can only come up with girls. Anyways...I'm finding that for at least every girl I've planned to name (I think I've got about 4-5 sets of first and second names, at this point), each one of them has at least one "K" name. Now this wouldn't come across as anything abnormal to most people, but for those who truly know me it will come as quite a shock, as I am known for thoroughly disliking the letter "K". What's also ironic is that my best friend, my mentor, my protege and a couple more of my wicked fun and super close friends all have names that start with this letter. It's like God's trying to toy with me...taking all the stuff I don't like or refuse to do and either shoving it in my face or forcing me to do it. I realize that of course He'd never "force" me to do anything but you know what I mean at least.

Okay, now back to my drive home.

It was mentioned to me that there is a temporary youth ministry job opening in another part of the country, and that I should "go for it". It would, in many aspects, be the ideal place for me to be. I would at least have two people that I know and love who would not only be my friends, but likely help to coach me. I could learn a lot from them. I would be gaining experience and stepping into the world of professional ministry (makes it sound kind of like the WWE) for a short time with a visible ending so that whether things are going well or poorly, there's an "out" (always important for someone like me, though I apparently have to work on losing the "screw it" mentality). I could start being a grown-up (oh please, no) and trying to intentionally find my place in this world (where am I, anyways? maybe i should stop and ask for directions).

BUT I didn't even give it a second thought. My answer, even to the hypothetical situation, was no. Just no. Not "absofrigginlutely not", or even "no way, I can't do it". Just...no.

Why the eff not?!?!

I'll tell you why, because this is what I found out while driving home. I have been forever (or at least a substantial period of time) kicked off of my high horse when it comes to my youth-ministry greatness. Before I even finished my first year of Bible college, I was already looking for a summer job in youth ministry. I was considering asking my church about a paid internship so that a) the church would have a youth person and b) I could gain experience as well as cash for my next year. I headed up a team of people leading youth events in other parts of Canada, and felt that even though I wasn't always organized, I could handle it. I was a natural. The program wasn't important. The numbers weren't important. The fact that there were kids being impacted and reached for Christ in a way that they truly felt it was important. I didn't need structure. I didn't need a budget (after all, Blaine took care of signing all the cheques no matter what we asked for). I didn't need an entirely good-sounding worship team. I didn't need an "appropriate atmosphere". I just wanted to be the kids' friend. Whatever needed to be done was going to get done, with or without preparation or God's help. It was just going to be fine. I was the youth ministry rock star in the eyes of my peers, my church, my professors, my friends and myself.

Then I learned that the higher you are, the harder you fall. The more puffed up your chest is, the louder the pop when you get stabbed. I went from being the hero to the zero (oh goodness I didn't even plan that) and no matter what anyone says, I don't think I'll ever believe otherwise. I was left to my own devices in an unfamiliar world and I failed. I don't want that to happen again. Why put myself back in a position where I'm vulnerable to crash and burn all over again? I didn't like the way it felt the first time, thank you very much. I've already told myself that the only reason I'm finishing this BA is to be able to feel like I've actually finished something that I started. I want to close that door and move on...but I still don't want to completely shut the idea out of my mind that ministry might be the place for me. Maybe because I feel God still calling me, or maybe because I feel the external pressure from people who "believe in me" and who "know that this is where I belong".

I'm not afraid of failure, though. I'm afraid of heights. I'm sick of the tears that seem to have only hidden themselves away in the furthest part of my brain, rather than disappeared. I thought I'd gotten past this. But it's nothing that even has to do with the external happenings in NZ...now it's all me. I've given up blaming others for the pain because at this point it's all up to me to let it go and grow from it. But, as always, I don't know effing HOW to do that.

And then I was confronted by a sign. Yes. A sign in front of Zion Church in Kohler that always has those silly cliche christian crap sayings to try and make people think about Jesus. I always chuckle or scoff when I see them.

Tonight it read:
"If nothing ever changed, there'd be no butterflies."

I cried the rest of the way home.

I'm still a caterpillar, aren't I? I sure as heck don't feel like a butterfly...