Author: ejmcewan

About Liz: Proud Cincinnati resident, wife, and mamma Liz McEwan. Alter egos: Songwriter & musician Liz Bowater; blogger at TheWalkingGreen.

Welcome to the Neighborhood

~ ejmcewan ~ Leave a comment

I’ve mentioned before that a lot of people give me the ol’ “Oh, I’d love to move downtown, but…”

“… but we love our kids’ school.”
“… but my husband/wife would never do it.”
“… but we don’t want to leave our perfect house.”

Etc.

So, then, what drives a family to actually pick up and move to the urban core? More than that: what motivates them to not just rent for a year to “test the waters,” but jump in head first and invest in a longterm residency by purchasing a property and then launching an entrepreneurial project to boot?

Let’s find out.

Meet the Bethunes.

When I met Levi Bethune, it was a brief “Hey, a friend told me I needed to meet you!” kind of moment. We had a few mutual friends who knew that, among other mutual interests, we both a) had a few kids and b) were into living downtown. Heather (his wife) wasn’t around at the time and I wasn’t sure when we’d run into each other again. But over the course of the next few months, I connected with Heather online and we started spending time together. It’s been a pleasure to know them through this exciting time for their family.

The short version of their OTR story is this:

Man lands a job in Cincinnati.
Man and wife sell their house and move to Cincinnati, with children in tow.
Man falls in love with OTR.
Wife begins to, as well.
The property hunt begins with strict parameters and, therefore, little hope.
Craigslist yields a magical buyer-seller relationship.
Rehab loan.
Permits, permits, more permits.
Hold-ups.
Construction begins.
And here we (well, they) are now:

Simple Space. Have you heard of it yet?

SS-Bethunes-Emily

The Bethunes (with friend/Simple Space partner Emily) via impulcity.

 

You see, what started as a small “what if we moved downtown?” inkling has grown into a full-on family business endeavor. And what could have been a simple rental unit or renovated single-family home is set to become an exciting community resource–a space for entrepreneurs, artists, party hosts, etc. to stretch their legs in a prime location but with a low-stress, short-term commitment.

You can read more about Simple Space itself at the above link. I’d rather focus for a second on what it’s like to be a woman/wife/mother who takes the leap from renting in the first-ring suburbs to committing long-term to the urban core.

What would drive a woman to move her family into OTR?

Well, I asked Heather a few questions to find out.

Whose idea what is to move to Over-the-Rhine?

“Initially, it was Levi. He had the pleasure of riding his bike around and through downtown on a near-daily basis to get from Northern Kentucky (where we currently rent) to his office at Longworth Hall. He was “romanced” by Cincinnati in this way… getting to experience all the alley ways and historic architecture up close and personal, interacting with people enough to start to recognize faces & names… it did something for him. He’s always loved cities, and Cincinnati has such a wealth of history, feels established and yet… isn’t overwhelming. Instead of being intimidating as big cities often are- Levi felt welcomed and in turn wanted to be a part of what’s happening in the heart of the city. Once he realized how he felt about it, and why, we started being more intentional as a family about spending more time downtown and in OTR. We wanted to see how our kids would respond to the urban atmosphere and also, of course, if I would love it as much as Levi did. And I did. Though my experience and perspective isn’t identical to his, I truly love Cincinnati and sense that I will only grow to love it more. I am drawn to cities for their intricacies and smart uses of small spaces. I love the creativity that cities can draw out of it’s inhabitants. I can’t wait to be one.”

Can you remember a moment when you realized “Yes, I want to live here?”

“I think I had several of those moments walking down a street with Levi and the kids on a beautiful day. That (alone) will do it.I am also completely in love with the architecture of OTR. I remember the first time I started to really look at the spaces above the store fronts and realize, “People live there! What must that be like to be able to just walk out your front door and go to ____ (wherever we had just come from)?” I know that’s a bit of a romaticized view but I think that’s okay. As with anywhere you live, you have to be a bit dreamy-eyed about some of it to balance out the challenges it poses (for instance, living in suburbia and having to load all your kids in a gas-guzzler to drive to ANY place you want to go because there is nothing but a mailbox within walking distance of your front door).”

What are you most looking forward to about living/working in OTR?

“Walking to as much of our everyday living as possible. Off the top of my head: parks, library and little shops like the shoe repair or hardware store. I’m also excited to be near the hub of public transit – especially the streetcar. Once that’s in it will definitely expand our borders and make it very easy to shop at Findlay Market and enjoy the riverfront more. I’m also really excited to own again. We bought our first house in Virginia only a year before moving here, and since selling, we’ve rented. We’ve never owned a building and commercial space before, so I know we’ve got a lot to learn. But I’m excited to do that and to be a part of the story of Over the Rhine.”

Would you like to know more about the Bethune Family and their new creative child, Simple Space? “Like” them on Facebook and, if you’re so inclined, you can contribute to their Indie GoGo campaign. (Don’t worry. Donations go specifically to the commercial event/retail space, not to outfitting their private residence.)

Welcome to the neighborhood, Levi and Heather!

Go Play Outside: 10 Tips for Hiking With Kids

~ ejmcewan ~ Leave a comment

Hiking with my kids is perhaps my favorite family activity. I’d take it over a walk downtown, over a romp at a playground, and easily over a trip to Disneyworld. Not only is hiking a fantastic way to exercise, it’s a fun way for me and my kids to burn steam. Living in the city, we need time away from the concrete jungle to beat our bodies against the earth and breathe in some fresh air. It’s good for the soul. Lately, my oldest kids (who share a bedroom and are homeschooled so they rarely spend time apart) have had a hard time getting along while we’re at home. But, the second we are outdoors–the moment there is a tree to climb or a trail to hike–they are best friends again.

For all these reasons, I try to get a hike in at least once a week for me and the kids, even in cold weather. Some of these hikes are in easy, paved areas, but I try to find more rugged, difficult trails if possible. And even though we have a few favorite spots, we’re always trying new areas to keep it exciting.

Even though we hike often, we still have a lot to learn and I still need to seriously amp up my personal fitness before I can consider myself a real hiker. (As a sidenote: for a serious hiking family check these guys out.) But, even if I can’t count myself among the real hiking fanatics, I have learned a few things along the way that I’d like to share. Specifically, ten quick tips for hiking with kids, especially when they’re very young.

So, here you go:

Hike often and hike year-round.

Consistency is key. Because we hike often, we have developed a bit of a rhythm and our kids know what to expect. There is no “But, Mom! It’s cold outside!” conversation at the start of the day. We do our morning at home as usual, then pack up our gear, a snack, and a picnic lunch and then head out the door. We might actually hike for only about an hour, but we leave time for exploring other areas and (usually) a picnic. Because we do this often and in all kinds of weather, it’s now as normal to my kids as a trip to the grocery store. It’s a part of our family culture and something familiar and consistent.

Dress for the weather.

With a few obvious exceptions, I think the adage is true that there is no truly bad weather, just a lack of proper preparation. Think smart–not just “warm.” Dress your kids in layers, not just bulky items. In even moderately cold weather, protect extremities–fingers, toes, and ears. A nice, warm head can easily make up for a few degrees of chill. Consider investing in waterproof hiking boots for the kids and a pair of nice wool socks, rather than expecting them to hike in rain boots when the ground is wet. Look for deals on fleece and wool (its natural counterpart) and quick-dry synthetic materials rather than jeans and cotton. (Why not cotton? Read here.) Keeping your kids comfortable in less-than-perfect hiking weather is key to a successful day out in the woods.

Wear the right shoes.

Your kids might not notice the difference between a $10 gently-used pair of hiking boots and a $80 new pair from REI, but you will. Eventually, cheap footwear takes a toll, so take care of your feet. Especially if you intend to carry one of your children for even part of the hike, don’t skimp on your footwear (or socks!). I have had a few awesome pairs of outdoor shoes in the past. These days, I gravitate toward either a) a pair of light-hiking, waterproof mid-ankle boots (like this) b) a breathable shoe like this, or c) a pair of strap-on Teva waterproof sandals, depending on the weather and where we’ll be hiking.

Invest in a good baby carrier.

If you want to include the littlest members of your family in the hike, invest in a decent baby carrier. Yes, most really great baby carriers will cost you a little money–between $40-150–so I really do mean “invest.” You probably won’t find a good one for $10 at the thrift store, but you can pick one up used on Craigslist or borrow from a friend until you find one you can afford. I bought a Beco Butterfly carrier (most similar to their new Soleil) when my son was just about two and I chose it for three main reasons: a) it was made in the US (not sure if this is still true), b) there were not extra infant pieces to buy like the Ergo and c) it can be used up to 45lbs. I have had the carrier for about 3.5 years now. I am now on the third child using it, and it is still in perfect condition. I use this carrier to carry my one year-old when I hike–usually on my front when she is napping and on my back while she’s awake. When she is a bit older, I will let her hike and use the carrier as a backup when she gets tired. Just a note: when my third child was a teeny infant, I used a Moby Wrap that a friend gave me and it was perfect, especially for chilly days. Also, I know some people use real “hiking carriers.” I’ve never had the budget for one, but I’ve heard good things about them especially on longer hikes or when you need a backpack on in addition to the carrier.

Learn what to pack (or not pack) in your bag.

Unless my husband is hiking with us to carry it, I don’t bother carrying a backpack since I’ll be carrying a baby. Instead, I let my five year-old carry any of our “gear” for the hike. Unless we’re on vacation away from home, our hikes are under 2 miles and we don’t need much more than the cursory emergency supplies. In his small backpack, my son carries: a water bottle that we can share if we need it, a small snack for emergencies, safety whistles (with built-in compasses) for him and his sister (sometimes they wear them), my car keys, a small first aid kit, a headlamp (mostly just for fun), and a set of binoculars. I carry my phone in my pocket (unless I don’t have a pocket!) and a trail map, if we have one. I’ve been looking for a small fanny-pack that I can wear with my baby carrier if I need it. And it’s almost time for my three year-old to start to carry a backpack, too. But, our car has a pretty substantial emergency kit stocked at all times, so we have things at our disposal if we need them when we arrive at our hiking location or back at the car after the hike (extra diapers, blankets, extra hats and gloves, emergency snacks and water, first-aid, phone charger, etc.).

Learn how to read a map, then teach your kids.

Before planning our hiking location for the day, I look up a trail map online and save it to my phone. This way, even if we don’t have cell phone reception in the woods, the map has been saved to my phone. I have a great sense of direction and am working on teaching my son basic orienteering so he can read the maps himself. Most Cincinnati and Hamilton County parks also have paper copies of their maps, so you can pick one up when you arrive. I usually try to pick a loop trail that will pass us by a ridge or creekbed and then back to our car.

Let your kids take the lead.

Whether they know how to read a map or not, let your kids lead the hike as much as they are inclined. When we hike, my two oldest trade off in the front and I stay last in line. I may remind them of things like poison ivy (when I spot it) or to slow down when the trail goes downhill or “Hey! Look at that!” when I spot something cool. But it’s a lot of fun to let them set the pace and explore on their own. It’s amazing the things they notice and find interest in. As their parent, take note of those things so you can follow-up at home or during your next hike. Don’t make it more “educational” than they can stand, but take moments to teach about edible plants, interesting natural phenomena, or other cool stuff like mushrooms or animal remains. Yesterday, we spotted an in-tact bird skeleton on the trail. Super cool. And, lately, my kids have been “hunting for Big Foot.” (I’ll let you know if we find him.)

Open your eyes; open your ears.

Stop every so often. Maybe stop and sit for a while. Look down; look up. Find something you’ve never seen before. Guess what it might be. Encourage the kids to close their eyes and listen. Our lives are surrounding by so much noise, it’s amazing the subtle sounds you can hear when the noise of life is absent. Birds. Falling acorns. Breeze. Distant city noise. Yesterday, we noticed that fall–Autumn–was literally happening all around us. We could tell by the bustle of the woods. It was busy!

Invite friends.

We hike alone quite a bit, but it’s always fun to invite friends to join us. A few years ago, I started a Family Hiking Club, but it was too hard for me to maintain a Saturday schedule for the hikes. I’m now toying with the idea of starting a new hiking club, specifically for people with babies (older kids and friends would be welcome to join, as well). But, you don’t need a “hiking club” to explore the woods with some friends. My kids love hiking with their friends and it’s nice to have another mom/dad/mom & dad to talk with while the kids keep busy. You can also share hiking tips and snacks and nature trivia as you go. Some of my best hikes have been with people who knew far more than me about wildflowers or bird calls. I still have a lot to learn!

Be a good example.

There have been times when I thought I was going to pass out on the trail (like when I was 8m pregnant with Number 3 and two year-old Number 2 insisted on being carried up that last hill). Your kids will take cues from you. Whine and complain, they will whine and complain; show fear when you spot a nasty, crawly insect, they will be afraid. But, let your sense of adventure and curiosity get the best of you and they will, too. Even if you aren’t sure you’ll make it up that next hill, spend more time encouraging them to “keep going” than worrying about yourself. You’ll all make it together. Practice responsible hiking, be smart, and take care of those hiking with you. Be a good example and your kids will grow into excellent, responsible hikers as they age.

 

It doesn’t matter if you’re pushing a stroller down a paved walkway or bolstering yourself for that final pass. Pack a bag, grab the kids, and head to the woods.

And then I’d love to hear more tips for hiking with kids, or hiking in general.
Share them if you have them!

Parking Permits, Grocery Trips, and The Dream of a Car-Free City

~ ejmcewan ~ Leave a comment

So how, exactly, are we going to pay for the operational costs of our new streetcar system? That’s the question of the age in Cincinnati, isn’t it?

A few solutions seem obvious to me: rider fares, sponsorships, and minimal tax increases in the immediate area (known as a TIF district). Beyond that, I’m not city-savvy enough to even pretend to have any easy solutions.

A few weeks ago, Mayor Cranley made a seemingly off-the-cuff suggestion that the City simply charge downtown and OTR residents a couple hundred bucks a year for a residential parking permit and that those funds be used to operate the streetcar. I’m not going to waste time making judgements about the Mayor’s intent in proposing this solution. Instead, let me offer my perspective on the idea itself.

First, OTR absolutely needs a residential parking program.
This has been a topic of conversation for a few years now as the development in the neighborhood brings more and more non-residents into the neighborhood and as more employees need a place to park during open hours. On a personal note, the difference between the ease of parking four years ago and the situation today is nearly night and day. And with a 600-seat music venue opening around the corner, I’m preparing for a rude awakening for all of us in a few weeks.

The folks at UrbanCincy.com think that the Mayor’s idea is reasonable. (You can read the editorial here.) The basic gist of the editorial is that driving is already subsidized in many ways and that it’s reasonable to begin asking residents to actually bear the cost of their driving habits. They compare the average monthly parking rates in the area to market rates in other cities. And they suggest that this could be implemented city-wide with the funds being used for various developments in other areas.

I’m actually sympathetic to the idea of charging residents for parking permits and, in some ways, I agree with the UrbanCincy.com editorial. But I think there are a few errors here.

We know that the $300 suggested permit fee is hundreds of dollars above the yearly fees in other cities. Some might suggest that the lower fees of other cities are too low and that they don’t even come close to matching the current subsidies. But I argue that, even if that is the case, it’s still unreasonable. It’s unreasonable because it’s asking residents of our city, which is only now catching up to comparably-sized cities to pay exponentially more for the benefits found in cities that are steps ahead of us. It’s essentially asking us to pay 22nd Century prices for 20th Century amenities.

You might say, like UrbanCincy.com, that the $25 a month that it would cost is still significantly lower than the average monthly parking rate (on lots and in garages) in the neighborhood, which is about $89. Well, yes, you’re right. But that $40-110 a month pays for security and availability. My $300 would not guarantee me a spot anywhere near my home. It would simply guarantee a spot somewhere on a “resident-only parking” street in the neighborhood which, with increased meter hours on every other street, might not mean much at all. Heck, we can’t even find the means to enforce street parking restrictions and vehicle-related crimes as they stand now. Do you really think the city is going to work hard to protect my $300 parking space?

Now, if we’re actually suggesting that every resident in every neighborhood with publicly-funded transit (including road improvements) is going to be asked to pay the same fees, I would get behind that. But good luck getting city-wide resident support for a $300 yearly fee to park on city streets. A more reasonable fee that is comparable to other forward-thinking cities seems like a better idea.

Second, the Mayor was quick to suggest that low-income residents of OTR would not have to pay these fees. So, a couple living in a $300,000 condo (that did not already have a safe, convenient parking garage that they are willing to pay for) would pay the $300 fee and then any random resident who can prove they get mail at an OTR address but don’t make enough money to pay the $300 can park for free? Let’s assume that by “low-income,” we mean the standard measurements used for subsidized housing in OTR, which is essentially, those making less than $35,000 a year. (I talked about this more in a recent post about “affordable housing.”) But what about those making between $35,000-120,000 a year? You know, the working- and middle-class residents? There is a reason many of us don’t pay for monthly parking spaces: we can’t afford them.

I’m not one to throw the proverbial baby out with the bathwater, so I’m not willing to write off the whole idea. I do think the City should institute an official residential parking permit program. But I think the rate must be reasonable, attainable for middle-class residents, and must be instituted in all areas of the city where the City is paying for transportation improvements.

Lastly, let me speak from a mother’s perspective.

As much as I’m sympathetic to the young urbanist agenda for car-free, rail-strong cities, it’s important to remind everyone that a strong urban core must make room for families, not just empty-nesters, yuppies, and the childless creative class. Joel Kotkin who is always good at upsetting people with his views on urbanism, said it perfectly in a City Journal article a few years ago:

“In California, particularly, state and local officials push policies that favor the development of apartments over single-family houses and town houses. But by trying to cram people into higher-density space, planners inadvertently help push up prices for the existing stock of family-friendly homes. Such policies have already been practiced for decades in the United Kingdom, making even provincial cities increasingly unaffordable, as British social commentator James Heartfield notes. London itself is among the least affordable cities in the world. Even middle-class residents have been known to live in garages, converted bathrooms, and garden sheds.

“…Ultimately, everything boils down to what purpose a city should serve. History has shown that rapid declines in childbearing—whether in ancient Rome, seventeenth-century Venice, or modern-day Tokyo—correlate with an erosion of cultural and economic vitality. The post-family city appeals only to a certain segment of the population, one that, however affluent, cannot ensure a prosperous future on its own. If cities want to nurture the next generation of urbanites and keep more of their younger adults, they will have to find a way to welcome back families, which have sustained cities for millennia and given the urban experience much of its humanity.” – “The Childless City”

But, why does this matter? What is the correlation between parking and families?
Well, let me speak from personal experience: the logistics of raising a family in the city can be really hard. Particularly when you have to consider transporting multiple bodies and nightmares like unloading a trunk full of groceries with three kids in the car and no available parking spaces.

My children and I have definitely adapted to a semi-pedestrian lifestyle, can go days without hopping in a car, and are accustomed to walking a few blocks from car to front door. And my kids know no different. So, many of my childless friends think I should just get rid of the car and save myself the $300 and the bother of finding a convenient place to park.

It’s that simple, right?
Oh gosh, I wish it was.

Maybe for a family with 2 or fewer children; maybe with no family to visit in the suburbs and across the country; maybe without my husband’s side-work that requires complete mobility; maybe in a city that isn’t surrounded by hills that only an olympic cyclist could pedal with kids in tow; maybe in a city where ZipCar had vehicles that would actually fit a family (or even mentioned kids or carseats on their website!!); maybe in a city where any of my closest friends were actually willing/able to live in the urban core where we could walk to see them rather than drive.

But I digress.

Look, I’m not complaining. I knew what I was getting into when I decided to stick it out here, kids and all. So, let me clarify: I don’t think that true, urban living is ever truly “convenient” in the modern sense. And I believe, completely, that anyone can adapt to a pedestrian lifestyle which becomes more convenient in many other ways. But I think making car ownership an impossibility for so many of us, based on its cost alone, means cutting off a demographic that is too valuable to the city to lose.

There are some magical places in the world where a large family can live in the urban core without a vehicle–and without a $250,000 income. (Seriously, you’ve heard of this woman, right?) But we don’t live in one of those places. We live in Cincinnati, Ohio, which is still struggling to rally residents around the thought of a simple commuter lightrail line. Heck! It’s taken years to coerce one of the country’s largest grocers to open a legitimate urban-platform store in its home city!

Our urban ininfrastructure is far, far behind, my friends.
We may get there some day and I hope I’m here when we do. But we are not there yet.
And if we think that charging a few thousand residents $300 a year to park on city streets is going to usher our city into the next era of urban renaissance, we are wrong.

I think our attention needs to focus more holistically on creating a livable city for everyone–all incomes, all demographics–where people don’t just come for $10 hotdogs, but can actually live and shop and raise kids and open businesses in the same place where the Symphony rehearses and the Reds play.

This is the kind of city I want to build.
Not one for the elite; one for my children.
And a $300 parking permit might not seem like a huge deal in the entirety of the transit issue, but it’s just one more example of how the urban middle-class of our city may be destined for extinction.

And, if there is no place for the urban middle-class in Cincinnati, then maybe I’m in the wrong city.

 

 

Go Play Outside: Red River Gorge

~ ejmcewan ~ Leave a comment
Creek dipping.
Campfire
Rock Bridge
Waterfall
Wading.
Happy baby.
Whistling Arch
Baby’s first graham cracker.

Hiking and camping are two of my favorite outdoor activities and, in my opinion, fall is the best season for both.

If you live in Southern Ohio, both hiking and camping are available at multiple locations within just a few hours’ drive. This summer, our family took a quick three-day trip down to one of our favorite places in the region–the Red River Gorge. It’s technically a “geological area” with an impressive collection of canyons and natural arches located within the Daniel Boone National Forest. It’s only a 2.5 hour drive from Cincinnati, in Central Kentucky, which is the perfect distance to get outta town and go play outside.

On this trip, with our three kids in tow, we rented a cabin inside the Gorge (we used the rental company Red River Gorgeous), so we were only a short drive away from all of the trailheads. We also ended up with a cabin on a creek with bunk beds (!), which was the perfect place for the kids.

Campfire. Creek-dipping. Bunk beds. Perfect.

During our long day of hiking, we took a short hike up to Whistling Arch (which is where I almost had a mild heart attack watching my son climb in the arch with my husband). And then we hiked the 1.5 mile Rock Bridge loop. The kids got a little tired toward the end of the loop, but it was well worth the work and gave me a good idea of how resilient they would be on a longer-distance hike. (And gave me more experience carrying a 20lb baby on a descent/ascent.) We do a lot of rugged hiking locally, but new terrain is always good practice.

If you live in the area or feel like driving down to Kentucky for a new adventure, check out the Red River Gorge. Do it alone, or with kids, or with your favorite hiking buddy. Rent a cabin or bring a tent. (Backcountry camping will cost you a small overnight fee.) Bring a kayak for the river or your climbing gear for the canyons or your bicycle for the scenic roads. However you do it, find some time this fall to do it.

Go play outside!

How I Almost Became a Rockstar Worship Leader (but didn’t)

~ ejmcewan ~ 2 Comments

Derailed.

How many times in your life have you been completely derailed from your intended path? Not the kind of derailing that drops you neatly off at your plan B, but the kind that pulls you off the track, spins you around, and leaves you stranded with no clear path in sight?

I was in college when it happened to me.

At the young age of 18, I was already certain of the path laid out before me and it involved a career in music ministry. Namely, it was me on stage at some big, fancy church, guitar in-hand, leading people in worship. To those unfamiliar with the world of Christian worship, the very notion of a music ministry career might seem odd. But, to me, it was everything. My faith was pretty mature for someone of my age and I had a pretty solid theological understanding of worship, so that was a good start. I loved singing. I loved church. (I loved singing in church.) I had just recently started playing the guitar and had dabbled in song-writing. I believed I had been given a set of skills that could be used to serve, not just attend church. Put it all together and a life working in ministry was the perfect fit. So perfect, in fact, that when I left home for college, it was to complete a degree in Worship Arts. (Yes, they have college degrees for that.)

And here I am, folks. The proud owner of a BA in Worship Arts. But, that career in music ministry? It’s nowhere to be found.

I’ll spare you the sordid details of the four years between the decision to pursue a career in music ministry and the decision to absolutely not pursue a career in music ministry, mostly for the sake of space. (I’d be happy to speak one-on-one, of course.) Instead, I’ll offer a quick walk through the journey that took me from almost- “rockstar worship leader” to, well, whatever I am today.

We begin.

First, I realized that working with and for Christians is really hard. Not hard because they are any worse than non-Christians but because they are so seldom better than non-Christians. I learned this quickly as a student at a Christian university. I’m sure my friends engaged in full-time ministry can attest to working with/for wonderful people, so this is obviously not true in all places and in all circumstances. But, for me, the reality of a lifetime surrounded by and working with Christians started to look a little disappointing. I wanted ministry work to be full of encouragement, drama-free and supportive. But people are people, after all, and even the prettiest people can look ugly sometimes. Right or wrong, I was a little shell-shocked when I realized that signing on for a life working in churches did not guarantee a peaceful work environment.

Also, after a year or two deeply embedded in what I’d call “contemporary worship culture,” I started to develop some serious issues with the music I was hearing and playing. Sure, it was fun to play. But what was it actually communicating about the nature of God and our relationship to him? I hadn’t really discovered “new hymns” yet and even though I was reading a lot of Robert Webber and completely bought into the concept of liturgical renewal and “ancient-future” faith, I hadn’t seen a lot of it in action. At least not by my peers. And at least not in a musical language that made any sense to me.

I was also struggling personally. My faith had always had a certain heaviness to it. And then, about mid-way through college, I entered a really difficult season of my faith. At the time, none of the options set before me seemed to speak to what I was experiencing, at least not with the depth I longed for. I actually got to the point where I had to completely disengage from leading because the words themselves seemed disingenuous, like lies. I felt like a fraud.

I valued honesty so much in life and in ministry that I couldn’t be a part of a culture where worship and truth seemed mutually exclusive. And it became clear that, if I couldn’t be honest in worship, I had no place leading God’s people in worship. I had never been good at faking it. The Church does not deal kindly with people like me–people who have a hard time keeping their mouth shut. And because I hadn’t quite figured out the appropriate venue or the appropriate way to address both my personal and ideological issues, I chose to simply step down and disengage from being a “public Christian” entirely.

Sometime around then, it became obvious that I also had no business being a celebrity–even a small-time, church-sized celebrity. I had no interest in having my face printed on the cover of a worship cd or my name appearing before the phrase “worship concert.” Even if my heart was in the right place–which, let’s be honest, could I promise that?–I couldn’t guarantee that the people worshiping with me were not, in fact, worshiping me or the music or the feeling they got when the bass drum kicked in on the second verse. Walking into the spotlight felt more and more like feeding Christian culture’s addiction to the “cult of personality” and the worship of super-Christians.

So, where do you go when you’re 3/4 of the way through a degree in Worship Arts, but you have absolutely no intention of continuing on into a career in ministry?

Well, I finished my degree, for starters.

I spent my last year focused on what I knew and loved about the history of worship and the Church, rather than what I found objectionable about contemporary worship culture. I wrote my senior thesis about, basically, the vapid nature of contemporary worship expressions and how they are insufficient for meeting our need for depth and honesty in worship. One of the implications of this insufficiency is that there is and will be a strong, post-Evangelical presence in the 21st Century Church, one that more closely resembles historic, Biblical expressions of worship and liturgy. (My paper was not nearly as articulate as that, as far as I can remember. But that’s basically what it said.)

After I graduated, I considered moving on to Graduate school to study the theology of worship even further, but I was still struggling so deeply in my personal faith that it just didn’t seem like a reasonable option. So, I found something else to do for a little while, to clear my head and let my heart and faith repair. I followed a boyfriend 300 miles to Cincinnati, Ohio and joined AmeriCorps, committing the next two years to full-time community service.

I starting writing more music, music that was decidedly not intended to be used as worship music (at least not in any corporate setting). It helped me heal a bit and reason aloud through my confusion at the complete derailment of my life. It provided the medium for honest expression that I couldn’t seem to find while working in an official ministry capacity. And it brought me together with many, many more people who had experienced the same thing as me.

I found safe places to worship. The first was an Anglican church in Wheaton, IL where I could be more-or-less anonymous, augmented by a Bible study with a small group of trusted friends when I couldn’t motivate myself to get to church on Sundays. When I moved to Cincinnati, it was a vibrant house church network where I was absolutely not anonymous, but I was welcomed–loud mouth and all–without any strings attached. These two places helped me rebuild my concept of worship and Christian community.

And, in small places and small ways, I started to dip my feet back into the world of ministry. I ended up married to an ordained Pastor, so that forced the issue a bit. But, even before that, I took small opportunities to help lead and administrate worship for God’s people when invited. I try to be always a step back, always a little hesitant, but willing to help when it seems prudent.

I explored the new frontiers of contemporary worship music, music that borrows more closely from Biblical expressions and Psalms, speaks more clearly about the nature of God, and leaves out the subjective “me and Jesus” talk that was so prominent in the worship music written when I was an adolescent. I learned to immerse myself in this music. These are the songs I wish I knew back when I was young and felt alone and without a voice in my struggles. I have also learned to give credence to various expressions of personal worship, when used in their proper context, even if they don’t satisfy my particular need.

And, in this current season of my life, I am trying to allow myself the enjoyment of reminiscing about that sweet time in my life when worship was less complicated and came more naturally from my heart. And to allow other folks–including rockstar worship leaders–to enjoy their ministry and worship lives without projecting my own personal baggage on them.

 

“Fear and trembling” are two words that come to mind when I consider my future role in the Church and how my gifts and skills can and will be used for ministry. I have no idea what the future holds and whether or not I’ll be derailed again and tossed into a different path. My husband and I are poised and ready to jump whenever the next step is evident. And I’m sure that what I’ve learned about myself, my own wavering faith and intentions, and the value of honesty in worship and community will help define my role. But I’m still so very unclear about what that role may be.

Safe bet: the future doesn’t involve me being a rock star.
Those days are, thankfully, long-gone for me.