Aj Schwanz

So I’ve been spending some time de-converging: sharing my experience with others, treasuring the connections I’ve made, tying up loose ends, dreaming about what’s to come, pondering about what in the world just took place. Driving home my two friends/roommates asked me how I was feeling and what I thought. My response: “I don’t know. I really don’t know what just happened. But I do know that it was *good*.”

It wasn’t until closing that I realized all the “bad” things that could have taken place. Which, if you know anything about melancholy personality types, is not typical of a melancholy: we tend to anticipate all possible outcomes, preparing for the worst. Think about this:

Women:

• From multiple denominations
• From multiple backgrounds
• Of different ages
• Of different places in life
• Of different styles of life
• Coming from churches that either affirm, condemn, or ignore their call to lead

Coming to a conference

• With no speaker
• At a hotel with an onsite brewery/winery
• To share their journeys.

Dude, that could’ve gotten ugly, with theological debates or denominational issues or cranky spirits. But for some strange reason/blessed move of the Spirit, I didn’t even think about the possibilities. Folks came together in a beautiful spirit of receptivity and respect, listening to one another, contributing to the conversation, blessing and affirming and worshiping. The Holy Spirit came with power!

The only time I realized what could have happened occurred during our last gathered time. We sat in a circle, holding a candle, and as we passed the flame, we shared two sentences about our experience during the weekend. I heard of number of:

• “I normally hate women’s gatherings, but this was a place of healing!”
• “I would rather have a root canal than go to a women’s gathering, but I feel so welcomed.”
• “It took a lot of assurance for me to believe that this would be a good thing, but this was such a safe place!”
• “I love Christ, but in general I find myself not loving His people: many are mean, hurtful, hypocritical. But this has been wonderful, and I truly feel blessed to be here.”

And I realized: wow, that used to be me! I’ve never been one to congregate with the women. As a kid I tended to wrestle more than play with dolls. I’d much rather hang out at Powells than the mall. Mother and daughter events gave me the heebie jeebies (not because of my mom, my poor mother who never got to do those cause I’m such a punk: it just felt like way too much estrogen in one place to be able to think straight). But somehow that’s changed. Folks asked me where I worship: “Well, I attend Newberg Friends, but the Sunday morning gathering isn’t so much my thing. But there’s a fantastic area Women’s Bible Fellowship, and that I feel is my church body.”

Other comments I heard:

• “I realized: I’m not crazy!”
• “You have been such a safe place for me.”
• “I feel loved, respected, wanted, affirmed here.”
• “I really, really, really needed this.”
• “Thank you for being present with me.”

A couple of years ago, that’s what I would’ve found myself saying. I was aching for community, feeling the void of trying to go it alone. How quickly I forget where I’ve been . . .

But I don’t want to forget. I want to remember those hard times, the journey I’ve taken to come to where I am. I want to continue to connect with people on the same journey, to share in their lives (whether over a few days, a few hours, or over the long haul), to speak words of blessing and affirmation and healing to them, to create a safe place for them to find refuge and refuel and head back out.

One of our mixer activities was called Speed Converging in which the leader shouted out a question, we had one minute to share an answer with a partner, one minute to listen to their answer, and then find a new partner. One of the questions was, “If money and resources weren’t an issue, what would be your dream job/occupation/way to spend your time?” Now, I knew about these questions ahead of time, and yet I still didn’t prepare any sort of answers. But what popped immediately to my mind in the moment was this: “Own a retreat center where I could stock a library, bake, and offer spiritual direction/friendship: a safe place for folks to find refuge and direction and resources before heading back out on their journey.” While I seriously doubt owning a retreat center is in the cards anytime soon, I do feel called to continue to provide to spaces, to foster relationships with others who are hurting and in need of friendship and healing, to facilitate a safe place for individuals and communities.

Interesting what comes about from converging . . .

We converged! And it was *good*.

But part of the beauty of the weekend happened before we gathered: we, and particularly I, recognized my village.

It takes a village to raise a child. It also takes a village to put on a gathering. In the past I’ve planned conferences, and, as should be expected, hard stuff popped up: lack of facilitators/counselors, registration problems, transportation issues, etc. And lo and behold those happened here: but instead of falling apart (like I wanted to), and instead of having to do everything myself, I found a village rising up to help out in the midst of what I felt to be *utter* *desolation* (hmm: who’s a melancholy temperament?).

• We planned for a very affordable conference . . . a little *too* affordable. When unexpected costs arose, a few groups offered to pitch in and help. We passed the hat at the gathering, and instead of griping “You want more of our money?”, participants gladly offered what they had.
• We had four not-so-techy women planning the gathering. My sainted husband offered to set up registration, emailing folks when there were problems, getting me lists while at work, spending his free time fielding questions, and then coming up and asking me, “How can I help out?” when I was pulling my collapsing leg “this isn’t going to work/I’m so TIRED!” routine. Sainthood - right there (ask my parents: they can confirm how wonderful he can be, and the level of non-wonderful tirades I can pull).
• The facility was going to charge us a decent amount of money to use their mics. I emailed a friend who not only hooked me up with a wireless mic, but brought it to me while I was having coffee (he was just driving by), helped me when the hotel said we had to have very specific specifications (again, collapsing leg routine/wallowing on the floor that “it shouldn’t be this HARD”), and offering to drive over an hour to set stuff up for us if we needed. !!!!
• Again, my sainted husband, who took the day off to drive me up to Troutdale, take care of our son, and make sure the mic worked for me (not that he minded hanging out at a really cool hotel/winery/brewery. I only discovered that once we were there - very sneaky, he is).
• My parents who listened to the aforementioned moaning and simply gave reassurances.
• The prayer group who surrounded and supported us during our meeting time.
• The individuals who would ask: How is it going? And really want to know.
• The staff at the hotel, who helped out with our catering peculiarities, our tendency to dominate public spaces, our late check out, and other issues.
• My wonderful facilitating team, who still seem to like me, despite my severe crankiness.

I love my village: thank you for being present.

So Convergence is coming up this weekend.¬† I’m excited and want to get going!¬† And I’m tired and want to crawl in bed!¬† It’s hard being a hormonal female, isn’t it?¬†
At times like these I always do battle with my idealistic dreams versus the realistic expectations.  When dreaming about this gathering a couple of months ago, it sounded so easy and simple:  provide space for women to gather and share.  No speakers to schedule:  our stories and passions will be the main topic.  No conference center issues:  just provide registration online and leave booking of rooms up to individuals.

But then came the questions.¬† Which came faster than I can idealistically respond to.¬† Somehow the demands of being a wife and mother of a whirling dervish, a.k.a. my toddler, and facilitating a bible study and dealing with the whole “ten weeks of holidays” (I swear it starts before Halloween) encroached in my time to calmly and rationally be proactive in helping plan the event.

And then came the details with registration:¬† folks who couldn’t get the registration to work, folks who needed to cancel, funky technical issues, not being able to transfer money from the Paypal account to the real bank account (somehow virtual money doesn’t get you far in this world).¬† Details:¬† nitty gritty details.¬† Not idealistic planning and dreaming and saying, “Make this happen” - but actually having to make it happen.¬† That makes me all squirmy.

Just recently we found out about more details.  In our initial talks with the hosts of the place where we are gathering, we figured out a (what we felt) very reasonable registration cost - trying to keep it as low as possible so that folks from all walks would be able to attend.  But details:  oh, details.  Like additional costs for using equipment.  Food prices fluctuating.  The most recent:  a lovely, not-previously-mentioned, decent-sized gratuity percentage tacked onto the food costs.  Oy.

Everything’s still a go.¬† But it’s tight:¬† like having-finished-Thanksgiving-dinner-and-forgetting-to-wear-your-stretchy-pants tight.¬† In light of that, we’ve created a way for folks to make a donation online:¬† even a small contribution would give us some more elastic, helping the facilitators focus more on the events of the weekend rather than the monetary elements.

I know once I get there and everything’s in full swing, I’ll really be digging it.¬† I’m *really* excited for that time.¬† Until then, you’ll find me in the stretch jeans isle, muttering things about gratuity might be given more gratefully if known about ahead of time and does this *really* fall under the whole “God loves a cheerful giver” umbrella? . . .

Everything must be more interesting in Lego church:¬† nobody’s nodding off.¬† Or, excuse me, having a “quiet moment of reflection in the Spirit.”¬† Heh heh.

Last February I was lucky enough to get to participate in the Emergent Theological Conversation on the East Coast.  During that time I connected with a number of fantastic women who had some amazing stories to tell:  stories that were exciting (about how God was moving in their community) and stories that were, frankly, sad (about how people were not supportive of their compassions and callings).  But it was a quick conference, with little time to figure out where to go from there - how are we called to support each other as women in ministry?

I connected with a few women from my area, and we’ve been meeting regularly to plan a space, a space to Converge - with our stories, our journeys, our leadings, our art, our talent, our dreams, our worship.¬† And so January 26th-28th a group of women will be gathering at Edgefield Manor in Troutdale, OR to do just that.¬† It’s called Convergence because we hope that the women will bring elements of their selves to the time, rather than simply consuming a message from a speaker.¬† (And, no, Convergent Quakers, I had nothing to do with the name, although I did giggle a lot when it was decided upon).

You wanna come?¬† I’m going:¬† you know you wanna.¬† It’s affordable; it’s at a supercool location; it’s with rockin’ women; it’s time and space to converse and reflect - sweet!
Some folks might say, “But I’m not a member of an emerging church!”¬† Well, neither am I.¬† But some of the ways I feel called towards moving in ministry don’t necessarily fit into the typical traditional church box.

Others might say, “But I’m not a leader!”¬† Enh:¬† I don’t buy that.¬† We all lead in our own spheres of influence, and no matter if it’s on a national level or a superduper local level, it’s leading all the same.¬† It might not look like a pastor/teacher, but you know what?¬† There’s a couple of other job descriptions that the Bible lists out, and leading is going to look different in each realm.
And then there’s the “But I don’t have anything to offer!”¬† Have you lived life?¬† Do you have a life story to tell?¬† Do you interact with people?¬† Do you want to worship God in your current place in life?¬† Do you want to follow Christ?¬† You have something to offer.

If you have any questions, feel free to drop me an email.  Or better yet, just register, and then we can chat sometime.  You know you wanna.