Friday, January 30, 2015

On Writing and Hiding and Why I'm Doing Both for a While

Hey blog-world friends!

This is just a note to acknowledge my absence for the last 8 weeks or so. Oh, you didn't notice? Oh well, I have. Especially after a seven-month run of Epistolary Wednesdays, a form and habit I love still.  Here's the deal though (and an explanation for my silence). I'm feeling pulled to do that sort of writing that can't have an immediate audience. The beauty of blogging is that I get to write and interact with all of you lovely people. But the reality of my life (the one where I'm a mom to three squirrelly girls, an associate pastor, and a writer) is that when I'm blogging, it's the only writing I have time for. And in this season, I'm feeling pulled to do that other kind--the kind that buckles down and explores and doesn't know what it wants to say quite yet but is figuring it out, stumbling through poetic language, slashing it, running into metaphors, finessing them, and figuring out what they mean. That kind of writing is more expansive than a single blog post or a series of interconnected blog posts, and it's what I'm feeling pulled toward in this season. Maybe there's another book to unearth. I guess I won't know until I spend some time in the cave.

All that is to say, I will check in here from time to time. And see you on Facebook (always Facebook). And please, if you are a lover of Dear Boy, please share it with your friends. Could I be so bold as to ask you to write a review on Amazon or Goodreads or Barnes and Noble (or wherever it is you buy your books)?

Until next time.
Heather




***Heather Weber is the author of Dear Boy,: An Epistolary Memoir

"Dear Boy, is a brilliant and unusual memoir of distance and absence--the absence of a beloved brother from his sister's life and the absence of healthy mothering that, over the years, drove brother and sister apart. Weber deftly shifts point of view so that, piece by piece, readers gather the sum of confusion and loss. Yet there is so much love and forgiveness in the narrator that, in a way, each character is redeemed. I'm moved by this life, this telling of it." --Fleda Brown, author of Driving with Dvorak.

Wednesday, December 03, 2014

Dear Faith-Shifter (Epistolary Wednesday)

Dear Faith-Shifter,

You hold such a tender place in my heart, you who once felt that everything was sure, you who once felt certain of God and religion, of church and ritual and the blackness and whiteness of rightness and wrongness, goodness and badness. I shifted many years ago and continue to shift—not away from God—but away from some of the certainties of my youth, away from the coded language of a larger religious identity that was shared by a group of people I love to this day. I shifted because too many things felt wrong about our Way of Being. And so much of that Way hung on me like an ill-fitting garment; and, there was too much jargon that those outside our tribe could not understand.

I will always love the Church (of course I love it—I’m one of its pastors); I will always love the way the Spirit has of speaking and moving and wooing us. I will love the Bible, its complexity and mysteriousness and truths-held-in-tension-ness.  But when we love so deeply, Faith Shifter, and are simultaneously so at odds with pieces of the tradition of our forefathers, or at odds with the ways the timeless has been trapped in the temporal, with the distorted expressions of the Love of God, and when we’re in search of some fresh way to express faith, questions, and mystery--it can lead us to loneliness. We belong and we don’t belong. We believe and we don’t believe (certain things). We wonder when no one else wonders. And we wonder if we are the only ones observing as if through a window the party we've long been invited to attend.

I was reminded in my reading this week of how, when we shift, the increased distance we feel from those who were once (or still are) our tribe often extends to a loneliness toward God. When we shift, it may seem that God shifts too. I have felt a distance, yes, over many years and winters and questions, that perhaps stemmed from the belief that Once We Lose Our Faith in God or God’s Church or God's Church's Answers, then so has God in us. But, if I could, I would spare you the necessity of this Distance, dear one. To assert that God has lost his love or faith in us is to assert that God is as splintered and confused and fragmented as my own (in seasons) battered heart. I have come to find out, after and even in the shifting, that God wasn’t far, not even as far as the snowflakes drifting three inches from my December window. No, he was on the inside of the pane, in my breath blown upon it, in the lungs that exhaled all my questions.




***Heather Weber is the author of Dear Boy,: An Epistolary Memoir

"Dear Boy, is a brilliant and unusual memoir of distance and absence--the absence of a beloved brother from his sister's life and the absence of healthy mothering that, over the years, drove brother and sister apart. Weber deftly shifts point of view so that, piece by piece, readers gather the sum of confusion and loss. Yet there is so much love and forgiveness in the narrator that, in a way, each character is redeemed. I'm moved by this life, this telling of it." --Fleda Brown, author of Driving with Dvorak.