Gestation

I'm about a week overdue for my 9 month reflection (and 3 months and a week late for my 6 month). I've got birthing on the brain - a good friend just had a baby and I'm greatly enjoying the pictures I get fairly frequently, the annunciation of Mary was Saturday ('cause Jesus' gestation was exactly 9 months...and he was, of course, born on December 25th). When people have asked me how long I've been at my call I respond 9 months and every time I think about pregnancy.

These last couple months, my work has begun to show. Well, I'm not sure that it's my work necessarily, but the work that is being done while I'm there. I think I do have something to do with it - I'm sticking it out. Because of me we have moved forward in some areas. I'm working to make connections and form relationships. And, worship attendance is up. People are responding to the call to be involved in particular areas of my congregation's ministry. Conflict is present, but doesn't overwhelm everything. At this point, it feels like those first few months of sickness was worth it (more evening sickness than morning, because of all the meetings) (August and September, my 3rd and 4th months were really difficult).

I don't have an analogy for labor and childbirth itself...I don't begin to think that what I do is anywhere near as amazing and physically painful.

And, right about there, my analogy ends. At least for now...'cause I've got other things to do. Any other ways to connect pregnancy with pastoral ministry?

About Face

As of 5pm this evening I had 3/4ths maybe almost 7/8ths of a sermon. I took a break, did the crossword puzzle, and was struck with inspiration. Unfortunately, it was a completely different direction.

So, at about 6pm, I started my second sermon for tomorrow. It's now 9pm, and although I spent 1/2 as much time on this one, it is by far a better sermon.

I need some time between the writing and the editing - so it'll be a rush tomorrow morning to edit. But, I feel so much better about what I have now versus what I had before. I don't want to do it this way every week though.

Now, it's time for some much needed rest.

Urgent Care

*A grand voice booms from above*
It's officially spring and you, Amused, have made it through the entire winter without so much as a cold. Congratulations. Your prize is right behind that door right there.
*I respond*
The one right there that is shaped like a nose?
*Booming voice*
Yes, why don't you open it up and see what you've won!
(As I slowly open the door the voice gets even grander)
A brand new Sinus Infection!

I just found my new favorite short cut - Urgent Care. I spent 20 minutes waiting to make a doctor's appointment on the phone this morning before I had to leave. I spent just 30 minutes at the urgent care place - registered, seen by nurse, seen by doctor, prescriptions, outta there. The doctor even apologized because she saw a person who came in after me before me.

I'm not complaining about my own doctor's office. They are very nice there - and I know Monday mornings are the busiest (at least they were at the pharmacy I worked at in high school). But I was amazed at the ease and the amount of good care I received just by walking in.

And now I've got my antibiotics and my funky nose spray (I'm not so sure about that). And, according to my doctor I won't be contagious tomorrow (too bad for the suckers in the council meeting tonight - most of them are young...they'll live).

Last year if I had the same symptoms, I would just stick it out and have my body fight it off by itself. But, now I feel like I need to not pass anything on. It was especially noticeable when I made sure I didn't touch the man going through chemotherapy and some of the older members. I washed my hands thoroughly before communion (after sharing the peace) and was very conscious of whether I coughed or sneezed the entire day.

I'm glad I'm medicated now - because I have two people I need to visit in the hospital tomorrow as well as all the ladies at the Senior Center tomorrow. I don't want the care I give to cause another to have to go to Urgent Care themselves.

Against the Odds on War

When the current war broke out I was prepared. I had been part of a group in seminary that had planned a worship service and made it be known that we would hold a worship service on the eve of a US attack. Our group was not only a bunch of idealistic seminary students, staff and faculty, but also included people studying to be chaplains and people who had been in the service. (Although our quota of "make love, not war" demonstrators was easily fulfilled...over and over again).

There were a couple of us who had been pegged for worship leadership - depending on when it happened, and I just happened to be the one who was able to do it. Our make-shift chapel was full - full of many for whom it was an ethical issue, and many for whom it was a personal fear for loved ones.

Today's paper contains articles about people in towns that have previously supported the war now putting forth referendums to call for a pull out. I waiver back and forth between feeling that there are some instances where war is necessary (just war and all that jazz) and feeling like there never should be war. But, I protested in the streets of Chicago against this war. I signed petitions against the war and wrote letters (ok, maybe a letter - I've never been very good at writing letters anyway). But, this is where I become more moderate and dare I say it even conservative? I don't think we should have gone in there in the first place, but now that we're there (at least not the way we did) ...now that we've violently and without remorse put our agenda in motion...now that we've disrupted lives - don't we have some responsibility?

I think it would be even worse if we were to just leave - to say "Our people back home don't support this, we're going back." Even if there is the inevitability of civil war prior to or once we leave, I think we need to be extremely intentional about our pull out - and I don't think that can happen with deadlines.

I read something in Time magazine yesterday about a veteran running for a political position with the Democratic party. His suggestion is for every Iraqi (military section...what is that called...battalion? I don't know...I'm clueless) that is ready, a US one leaves. He says that Bush claims there are 50 Iraqi troop groups (okay, I can use that phrase) ready and that if they were truly ready we would be able to pull out 50 US troop groups. I like that. It both exposes political spin and is a legitimate way to work towards pulling out that doesn't just leave people blowing in the wind or under (as much) threat of the next renegade group that wants power.

So, I'm not completely uneducated about this, but neither am I polished in knowing what should happen. I have just found that my views seem to always be at some odds with the public cry. When we went to war, I cried against it - and I was not alone...in fact, I was well surrounded by others who strongly believed the same. But, there were some relationships that were a bit strained.

Now that many more are calling for a pull out, I'm not so sure. Maybe I'm just not seeing the whole picture, or maybe I'm claiming too much responsibility, or maybe I just like to be contrary. I don't know - but I'm thinking about it.

Today's Moments of Grace

Surprises all over today.

* I woke up rested, not groggy.
* Even though it was a very full day, nothing frazzled me today.
* Over 15 kids came up for the children's sermon.
* We were two crumbs short of running out of communion bread.
* The 16 year old soloist during the offering.
* The 7 inquisitive kids (8 and 10 year olds) who came to communion class...I love teaching that age!
* The full adult Bible Study that took off - how do we define suffering? And, depending on how we define it, is it what we are called to?
* The extremely quick Outreach meeting.
* The other soccer players (kids and adults) chanting "Pastor. Pastor. Pastor!" to get me out to play and then again when I made a goal. (I would only play with the older players...with my luck and clumsiness I'd clock one of the little kids and they'd forever be saying "When Pastor kicked me or knocked me down..."

But the best one: the ladies at coffee hour put aside cookies and cake for me because they know I never make it there before the end...and they tasted good!

Astrology and Phone calls

"Don't sit there wasting all the wonderful things available to you - put the melancholy attitude to rest. Motivation is all it will take to make your life better." Well, shoot- I didn't know my life was all that bad. According to my horoscope for the year, I've got to buck up and deal. The other part - the one for all other Pisceans is even a little worse: "You may be fooling yourself but you aren't fooling anyone else." As I've stated before, I don't believe in horoscopes, but I do like to read them. Usually they're fun. Today, not so much.

I think this has been my quietest birthday, and that has been nice. I'll be having a party on Friday, which will really be when I celebrate, but today was nice. I got home after a nice evening of dinner and drinks with friends and friends of friends to a random selection of phone calls. A coupla "happy birthday songs" (thanks, Belle - we'll talk soon), a parishioner who I spent some time with today who went home and read in his church newsletter (that arrived today) that it was my birthday (the biggest joy for me out of this is that it means at least someone reads the newsletter!), my sis, and a woman who for the life of me I can't figure out who she is. She called me by my first name and said that she was calling to set up a meeting over a meal with me and that she would try me at church tomorrow. I can't figure it out...and that is fun for me.

I think it's the mystery that I like - the not quite getting what this horoscope is supposed to mean in my life, and the mystery of someone that I don't know. I love to feel curious.

Stomping my foot and pouting

I just don't want to - it's Sunday morning, I'm ready to head over to church for the morning. It'll be a lovely service - some good hymns, a children's sermon that might actually fly, a healing service. It's not the service I don't want to do - it's the sermon. It's written...it's probably pretty decent...I'm not sure - I've only read it through once. I just don't want to practice it. I'm bored by it. Where's the good news for me? I've been studying and thinking and everything I come up with are my own rationalizations. I want something inspiring for me this Sunday morning. I want to be fed...and not by my own words. And, not by something I've read...but something that someone tells me.

This sermon I'm supposed to preach matters - there are people who want to hear it, there might even be some who need to hear it. I know it's not all about me and my intelligence...thank God for that! But, at the same time, if I don't stop this little tantrum and read through it, God can't use my words and my gifts.

So, tantrum over. Fine *slumps in her chair and takes a deep breath* I'll go practice my sermon and then go to church. But, I don't wanna.

Ashed Together

Coming home with ashes on my forehead I had a sad realization: in my year of so many "firsts" I don't really get to share them with anybody. Sure, I call of different people here and there, but there is no one at home for me to just come home and say "hah - well, I learned what to do next year" or "that just felt so good."

I don't say this to have people feel sorry for me or to elicit any response, but just to share it. My friends and parents hear a lot of what happens. But, it takes that phone call. Meckhead, it's not quite like the wilderness you experienced that you'll be writing about, but the isolation is perhaps somewhat similar.

For now, since this is one way to relieve some isolation, I'm going to share in the blogosphere: my first Ash Wednesday as a solo pastor was very moving. I didn't have any other worship assistants prior to this evening, but people stepped up. Marking ash crosses on people between the age of 1 and 89 was amazing. Recognizing that those on the ends are closest to the dust of which we speak - as God's good creation and as the promise of the return of the earthly body to the earth. I was struck by the people who came from the soup kitchen - and the grace to look into their eyes as I marked their foreheads and handed them the body. How meaningful to touch each of these (58...we ran out of bulletins!) children of God, my hand on their heads, my thumb to their foreheads. The beauty of the church at night, and the gorgeous prelude the organist played.

But then, there's the person who runs hot/cold. There are periods of time where this person is supportive and complimentary. But then there are periods, like this last week 1/2, where the person is critical and accusatory. It's challenging to respond with consistency, but I try. I think I succeeded tonight and some of the discontent was allayed.

And then there is the "huh - I don't like it, but I'm not going to change it" parts - like the fact that the seniors have an "Ash Tuesday" (after which I removed the ashes from my forehead) and that they would like communion during every Tuesday Lenten service - but to still have each service be 1/2 an hour (minus the time it takes to get situation...I should really plan on 25). But, just because I don't want to do it doesn't mean I shouldn't. It's less work to do what they expect right now. Next year, after building it up a bit, we'll possibly change it.

So, those are my thoughts this night.