for going to California last week. As I have pointed out previously, I had some exorcising of some bad Cali mojo to do.

The final 22 months I lived there were the darkest times so far in my life. Something significant happened in my life in the week before my graduation from seminary--something that turned everything upside down and caused me to lose complete faith in myself.

(I wish I felt the liberty to tell you what that something was, but I'm protecting myself and others by not telling you. But it is enough for you to know that I was left with a gaping sucking emotional wound for which help seemed very far away.)

Adding to the complete and utter crappiness of those months is the fact that I could not seem to land on my feet in the church anywhere, my spouse was employed temporarily, (week-to-week) and we were slowly going broke living in a tiny, dingy rental house we could not afford.

I owe my sheer survival during that time to the Chaplain of my seminary alma mater, who heard my story and knew of a part-time job working for the local Presbytery. He recomended me for the position, which I was frankly over-qualified for, but was given anyway.

So for several months I worked *for* the church, but not in it. I filed confidential paperwork pertaining to minister members in the presbytery, I organized and prepared meeting packets for the minster members, I took attendance and copious notes at the presbytery meetings and then later wrote the minutes of those meetings. I was surrounded everywhere by pastors, but could not be one yet.

I took a huge risk taking that job, knowing that the one thing I longed for more than anything else would be paraded right in front of me everyday but would not be mine as long as I was in that place.

And yet, somehow I think it is because I was in that uncomfortably awkward position that I kept on trying to find my way to a church, despite my extreme desire to throw in the towel. It is still divine mystery to me how I survived and triumphed during that time. But it is clear to me that I didn't do this on my own strength. There is nothing about me that is that resilient.

So, last week I knew that the Chaplain would be there, and I wanted to thank him, in person, for saving my life. He was speaking the final morning that we were meeting as a conference. I didn't know, however that he was the final speaker and made plans to see somebody else that morning. I missed my chance to thank him, but I got to do something else that morning, and it turned out to be a wonderful day.

But that's another blog entry...