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In 2012, I was parenting two small children and pastoring two small churches. I never seemed to have enough time and energy to match all there was to do. I had a lot of mom guilt about time spent away from my kids to be present in my churches. Though I was blessed to serve caring and encouraging congregations, my attention there tended to focus on the many ways I perceived that I was not a good enough faith leader.
My efforts to overcome my shortcomings left me more discouraged about ever becoming the pastor I thought I should be. I often worried that God was disappointed in me. Restless, I pursued a number of changes, both great and small, hoping I could find a sense of peace with the right adjustment. One closed door ended up opening the door to PrairieFire.
Emotionally and spiritually depleted, I started that fall with no idea of how my life was about to change. I wasn’t sure what to think about the mix of people I would be seeing monthly for two years, mostly because I wasn’t sure what they’d think of me. But, to my surprise and delight, something amazing happened as we journeyed together. That mix of people became a community, and that community embodied grace in a way I hadn’t known before.
Together, we learned about contemplative approaches to practicing our faith. We practiced listening more deeply, which allowed us to hear wisdom we might have missed before. Though we didn’t share details of our lives, we shared holy and vulnerable pieces as we talked about our joys and struggles and questions.
That community loved me into a more expansive understanding of who God is and who I am as one created and loved by God. Through PrairieFire, call and vocation became less about an obligation to do the one job God expects me to do and more about invitation to the many ways I might use the gifts and passions God has given me to love and serve God and my neighbor. I started to believe that maybe who I was was actually enough and that saying yes to my heart's longing might be an act of faithfulness.
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