i am not a science person, and i never took physics. perhaps this is why i have managed to reach the age of 34 without fully grasping the simple concept that i cannot be two places at once. but andy’s three-day out-of-town conference last week was just the crash course i needed to fulfill my “knowing one’s limitations” requirement.

lesson one occured at memphis botanic gardens’ big back yard, where i encountered another mom, who was expertly holding her ten-week-old while her three-year-old was tentatively exploring.  

i, on the other hand, darted frantically from one child-in-constant-motion to the other. the bird fell, the monkey was hogging the slide, the bird nibbled on someone else’s lunch, the monkey needed help finding the mallets for the “house of rock,” the bird was dangerously close to the creek, the monkey…

wait! where was the monkey? hiding in the worm hole. cool.

only this wasn’t so cool with the aforementioned mother, because while my attention was on the monkey, the bird was playing with the enticing gadgets on her ten-week-old’s empty stroller.

i scooped up the bird in a flurry of apologies. she said nothing but went to work on the stroller with wet wipes.

the big back yard is just that — big. but no matter how far we strayed from the perturbed mother and her statuesque children, the bird always managed to find his way back to her alluring collection of stroller toys. when she started scolding the bird and yanking him away from the empty stroller, i knew it was time to go. i also knew that in about a year, when her baby is walking, this mother would be joining me in the impossible attempt to be in two places at once.

lesson two occurred at the end of my solo-parenting duty, just as i was congratulating myself for maintaining patience, relative calm, and a sense of adventure while andy was away. the phone rang, and a kind and gentle church parishioner on the other end of the line expressed legitimate disappointment that i had not visited his family during a very critical time they had experienced in the previous few days, the same few days i spent playing the roles of mom, dad, and cruise director for my kids.

i was, and still am, riddled with guilt.

i’m also frustrated that in many cases for me, quality ministry and quality parenting are mutually exclusive. but no matter how hard i try, i cannot be in two places at once. sometimes being fully present to one child means being only marginally present to the other. sometimes providing stability during a critical time for my children means not providing empathy during a critical time for parishioners.

this is the reality of my life right now, one that i am having a hard time embracing. even i were a science person, i cannot change the laws of physics.

i returned last night from the young clergy women’s conference, the topic of which was “leading as ourselves.” as i sat in the sub-artic environs of our candler divinity school classroom and looked around at my fellow girl preachers, i was struck by both awe and jealousy. many of these women work full time in the church or other para-church settings. some of them have children, some of them work part-time or half-time, but very few seemed to be on the piecemeal job plan as i am, stringing together a haphazard collection of part-time gigs with the trials and rewards of stay-at-home motherhood.

i learned later, of course, that i am not the only one holding my life and life’s work together with odd combinations of pipe cleaners, vestments, therapy, wine, and a steam mop. the room was full of those who long, as i did, to have children; those who struggle for balance of all kinds; those who are facing transitions; and those who are wrestling with issues of identity. 

i did not know all of this on day one, though, when one of our beloved speakers, melissa clodfelter, asked us what leadership-related topics we would like to cover in our time together. so, i raised my hand and explained that i am often trying to lead from the margins. because of my simultaneous frustration and delight with the church and my desire to spend the majority of my time with the monkey and the bird, i am never central to the church’s power structures. i often feel like an outsider, and i wonder if i can ever actually effectively lead from this position. though i felt as if i were speaking only for myself at the conference, i know that the world is full of women who feel marginalized in the workplace, whether for reasons of choice or unfair circumstance. what kind of leadership do we, the women on the fringes, have to offer?

i was relieved when melissa answered that the margins are the places from which true leadership emerges. it is only by stepping outside of the structures that rule our world that we gain the perspective needed to change things. fitting in is not a prerequisite for effective leadership, as evidenced by gandhi, martin luther king jr., and jesus christ, himself! in fact, affecting change requires an uncomfortable, liminal type of existance.

i am beginning to see that leadership, from my own personal margins might look like this:

• changing the world, by raising boys who are emotionally intelligent, compassionate, and justice-seeking. brown eyes over scrambled eggs, and all that…
• remaining on the fringes of church in order to speak from a place of perspective and insight.
• remaining connected to the church so that my perspective and insight will matter.
• writing here about what it’s like to try fashion a real, meaningful life that honors my own leanings as well as the legacies handed down to me by superwomen, fifties housewives, and everyone in between.

but mostly, i’m beginning to be thankful that i never quite fit in anywhere. in an odd sort of way, i am in good company. and there is meaning to be found in the margins and proclaimed to the world. thanks for joining me in this process — this little makeshift revolution.

my apologies for for the infrequent posting lately. i’m enjoying the fellowship and insight (and wine) at the young clergy women’s conference in HOTlanta.