A Lesson From Childhood That Doesn't Carry Over.

In sixth grade I was a crossing guard. I'm not exactly sure what appeal that role held for me, but nonetheless, I was one for one year. (After that year they asked me to go to crossing guard - or patrol - camp in order to become a captain, I declined and stopped being a crossing guard altogether).

One morning a fight broke out in the commons area between two boys who were each much bigger than I. I got in there and tried to break it up. I don't remember all that much of what happened then, but I do remember sitting in the assistant principal's office later that morning. She was a member of my church and it was a bit odd to have my worlds collide like that.

I remember that she was usually a very tough person, but that this morning she was more motherly toward me. I did receive a lecture though - I should not have gotten involved in that fight. I should have gone for the help of an adult.

Now I look around and I'm the adult. As I came home from work on Sunday I passed a car that was stalled in the middle of the road. No one was honking or impatient, but just calmly driving around the stalled car. As I passed I looked in and there was a man with his chin lowered to his chest. It almost looked like he was sleeping.

I drove by, made my turn, then circled the block and came back. He was still there, although now his head was up. As I pulled into the gas station I realized that the cashier was out in the parking lot, trying to both help this man and take care of any customers who happened to come.

I ran into the middle of the street and as I neared the man in the stalled car started to roll up his window. I asked him if he was alright (I wondered if he'd had a stroke or something) and he lowered the window just a crack. (Keep in mind, I had my clergy shirt on - and was wearing a necklace one of my confirmation kids gave me - a cross). The cashier came back and told me he'd been trying to help the man for some time - but kept having to go back into the store. So, we finally managed to convince the man to put his car in neutral and we pushed it over into a nearby parking lot. The cashier dashed off. I tried to see if I could help the man anymore, but he didn't seem to want any more help. I asked if he knew what he was going to do and he said he'd just keep starting his car.

I wonder how many people passed that man and did nothing. The skinny kid of a cashier and I (still not all that big - and definitely not someone who would be chosen first for any feat of strength) could have used more help.

I worry that too many people got that message as a kid that we shouldn't get involved in other people's problems. It makes sense in some ways - don't be dumb. At one point I wondered if I should offer to give this man a ride somewhere, but decided against it - it would be dumb to give an unknown (and rather large) man a ride. Don't be dumb, but that doesn't mean not to be involved at all.

For this I'm thankful

I am thankful for today.

For the beauty of honesty and forgiveness. For the willingness of one to confess.

For two delightful women - living yards from each other in the same nursing home. Neither remembers much from our conversations. Both laugh, joke, cajole and perk up when I visit. It would have been nice to have known them before Alzheimer's, but it's pretty great to know them now as well.

For my secretary.

For my finance committee chair.

For people who are thinking of the church when possibilities arise.

For teenagers.

For the other congregation and their pastor who come on the 4th Wednesday to make supper.

For colleagues.

For a full house tonight - at dinner, at the clinic, at worship.

For members who reach out.

For members who allow themselves to be reached.

For creative nurses, who see the need for a $4 medicine and figure out a way to get it.

For the trust of a homeless man.

For being in the right place at the right time.

For a warm dry place to sleep.

For a glass of red wine.

For all this I'm thankful. Right now, today. I'm tingling with thankfulness. My eyes are brimming. Sometimes everything seems so very overwhelming and stressful. Sometimes I forget about how very lucky I am.

I feel very blessed.
Thank you, God.

Repetition

Am I repeating the same year over and over again? Second post in a week that I'm referencing a post from last year.

Last year on March 20th I posted this. I had come down with a sinus infection and very much appreciated my trip to Urgent Care.

Well, this year on March 21st I started with a little cough and a sore throat. It was difficult to lead the mostly singing liturgy at the Wednesday evening service, but it went okay. Yesterday (the 22nd) it went full blown and I came home from work - sore throat, achy body, cough. Because I have limited contact with the elderly population for these next few days I'm going to try to stick it out.

It seems I don't have to look out for the Ides of March. But 5-6 days after the Ides. Maybe it's Lent, maybe it's Spring, maybe it's a delayed reaction to turning older.

All I know is that next year for my birthday I'm asking for Vitamin C and Zinc.

GS is for Cookie

The last few years I've been amazed at the speed in which the Girl Scout cookies I've ordered have disappeared.

It would seem like I had just opened a box and it was empty.

Seriously. Like 1/2 an hour later. No more cookies.

This year I was only hit up by one girl scout. I only ordered 2 boxes from her (one of each of my favorites - S'Mores (or whatever they're called now) and Thin Mints) because I thought other badge-earners would soon be following. Alas! Only two boxes this year.

The S'Mores were gone after 3 days. I was purposely limiting myself because of the supposed scarcity of the cookies. But, then, it was at least 3 weeks before I even opened my Thin Mints. And, I only ate 2 when I first opened them (two days ago). And, I still am on the first sleeve of cookies.

I'm almost fearful that something is wrong with me. I always devour these cookies like they're good for me or something. I still like the taste, but for some reason I'm naturally limiting myself.

Scary.

Involved, Invested, Inspired...Irritated

A little over a year ago I posted this. To sum it up - it's about acting as if I was into something to be polite.

It happened again. Except, this time, I was masking some stronger feelings than boredom.

Retreats are supposed to be relaxing and inspiring. Relaxing it was, inspiring - not so much. I also went in expecting to have 2 of the other retreatants irritate me the entire time. Good news: One of them was incredibly tolerable - even enjoyable. Bad news: the other was in top form and I had to be incredibly aware of my facial expressions whenever she spoke (which was often).

But, with one exception, I think I faked my way through it. I think people will have thought that I was involved, invested, and inspired. The one exception was addressing this one irritant and a particular comment she made that was offensive to me. (She made others that were too, but this was the only one I reacted to).

Do other people just not say something? Am I hearing her completely wrong? Maybe to both.

The retreat did have some very good parts. A parishioner of mine was there. I got to spend time with the two other pastors who were there and some other people who are quite enjoyable. The sisters at the retreat center were amazing and they had a fantastic book store. I got to walk by the lake and eat good food prepared by other people. I got to be part of and lead worship that felt meaningful.

I just wish I didn't feel like I was faking it during the cheesy parts.

Cheers to me.

Last night 18 fabulous friends joined me in celebrating my 30th birthday. As someone who is habitually single, I've often hosted "gatherings" or "get-togethers" in my own honor.

I love celebrations - it's one reason I love worship (good worship that is...). And, I like to mark occasions. I notice when my odometer turns, I recognize anniversaries of various events (although, I must admit...I'm good at doing this with my own things, not others - how horribly self-involved that makes me seem).

It does feel a little odd to invite people to come and celebrate me and I hope that I am able to maneuver the line of being celebratory of me, and helping others have a good time. And it helps when I have such cool friends who enjoy getting to meet each other and can entertain themselves.

It also helps when the location is a brewery.

In my head I have this running commentary that has helped me realize that it's okay to invite people to come and celebrate me. Part of it is something my mom helped me learn - that I have high expectations for some things - that I can't always expect others to fulfill. If I don't want to be crying in my milk (or beer) about no party or no specified time to mark the occasion of entering another decade, then I should just go ahead and do something that I'll enjoy.

So, raise your glass to this blogger entering another year/another decade even.

The Paper Whole

I'm filling out the information to turn into my tax preparers. It's a nifty bit; I'm able to fill out a computer worksheet without ever printing anything.

Except I get nervous about missing something. It's so much easier for me to catch mistakes when it's printed out, so I'll probably print it out when I'm almost done anyway - just to make sure that I answered everything I was supposed to.

It's why I love books and prefer magazines and real newspapers to on-line versions. I think it has something to do with the way I learn - but what it comes down to is that I'm able to see the whole of an item at one time. I think it's that I get a sense of seeing the breadth, depth and length of what it is I'm tackling.

When it's nice and tidy on a computer screen I have no sense of any of those things.

*** OH - D and B made it safely to their friend's home in London. D didn't eat any of the plane food, but everything stayed down once they left my house. It sounded like they got some good sleep and were relaxed and ready for the rest of their adventure.***

Can't get a fix

I'm hoping that by the time my brother might read this, what I'm about to write will be one of those stories you tell and not still an uncomfortable memory.

My younger bro and his wonderful girlfriend are currently flying over the Atlantic Ocean and will land in London, hopefully around 4:30am our time. They came into Milwaukee yesterday and spent the night with me until I brought them to O'Hare this afternoon.

It was wonderful to see them before their adventure...but, both became extremely sick in the night. Not only did they have no food in their stomachs, not only were they unsure about how much they could keep down, but they also had very little sleep. And, then their plane sat on the runway for an hour and a half prior to take off.

Yes, they will survive. Yes, they're heading first to London for about a week and a friend's home from college - so they'll not only know the language, but at least will know a friendly face. But (and now it becomes about me...), I've got this pit in my stomach.

Last night and this morning I've just wanted to make it all better - to make it more comfortable for them. I wanted to give them the time to sleep it off, to not be anxious about an 8 hour plane ride, to take away the upset stomach. I couldn't do any of it. I couldn't fix a thing. I hate that.

I'm praying for D. and B. tonight - that they might be able to rest on the plane. That they might be able to keep some food down (and the food will taste alright). That they are safe and comfortable. That they'll find their way to the place they are staying easily. That their entire trip is much better than this beginning.

I guess, prayer is about all I can do.

Pre-written

This week, like many recently, was all about finishing something in time, but with no extra lag time. I'm just barely pulling it through.

I am grateful for this blog - and the opportunity to put metaphor to my life differently than I do elsewhere - because I just stole the majority of the previous blog about tools for my newsletter article. I changed it and had it talk about tools for returning to God during Lent, but because I had previously written the story out, it flew out of me so quickly that the newsletter article was done in no time.

Now, if only there was a way for my taxes to be done that way.

Having the Right Tools

Earlier this month I bought this from IKEA. It's been partially put together in my living room since I got it home. It seems I was missing a particular tool (maybe an awl?) that would make it easier to put the wheels on.

I persistently worked on the screws enough that I had stripped one and didn't really want to torture my hands any more than I already had, so I decided I needed an electric screwdriver. I thought about buying one, but have not made it to the store to even price them or do any research, and I would think I'd like to know what I was getting into with something like that.

So, I finally borrowed one and got the wheels on....only to have multiple other problems that finally got (almost) figured out. I love doing this kind of building-by-number thing...and could see myself getting into further projects that don't come with ready-made pieces. But, I really need the right tools.

So, as many of these posts go, this too goes back to how I'm managing at my job. February has been so much better than January. People are starting to know of some of the happenings in January - and that feels a little bit like wading through some unknowns as to how to lead. BUT - I do feel like I have some competent, good, newly-in-place "tools" in the form of people who are stepping into certain positions.

Before now I feel like I've been trying to do every single job with a Phillips Head Screwdriver and a hammer...my tool box is expanding...I just hope these new tools feel competent, challenged and fulfilled.

Sunday Wishes

It's the same story every week.

On Thursday I say, "I'll get it done Saturday."

I get the big stuff done on Saturday.

But, on Saturday, I say, "I'll get all the odds and ends done on Sunday."

And then I wake up worrying that I'll forget the odds and ends and have little bits of paper all over the place and multiple e-mails to myself.

I wish I was more organized. I wish I could look forward to Sunday morning for what I hope it is for everyone else. I wish this could all be more laid back.

Insider

I was allowed in tonight - into a frigid camp under a freeway.

I was allowed in tonight - into the pain of a father's concern for his (grown) son whom no insurance company will accept - and whose medication costs $1500 a week.

I was allowed in today - into excited expectation for the coming role.

I was allowed in today - into the homebound woman's fears...even if she won't allow me in her home.

I admit, I take some joy and glee at reading celebrity gossip rags. I also enjoy many different forms of reality television. In some ways, each of these are ways people are allowed into others' lives.

I think I have it better being allowed in to real people's lives.

Grumpy Old Men

I have an affinity for grumpy old men.

I love 'em.

I don't have a specific age group in mind with "old." Some are actually rather young.

One of my favorite grumpy old men just died.

He was a member of my call committee and loved by many (including me).

He was ready and faced it bravely, making the decision to be put on palliative care himself and to eat sugar (no more Splenda) now that he didn't need to watch his diabetes.

At Christmas Eve he wasn't doing so well and came to worship in a wheelchair. Prior to this he had been quite agile and able to move around well. He had been scheduled to serve communion that night. I approached him and said that we could figure something out if he wasn't able to be a communion assistant. But, he said he wanted to serve. And so he did.

From his wheelchair he offered people the blood of Christ. For some people, that will be their last memory of him.

He was not shy about the fact that going into the interview with me he did not think a young woman could be his pastor. He was also not shy about the fact, that he was proud that they did call me.

Blessings, Grumpy Old Man. Rest in Peace.

Into the wild blue yonder

Uff da. January is tough. It was last year too. There is a lot to prepare. But, more than that, there are a lot of people who are struggling in some way or another. Just when I feel I've been present to one and they are moving forward another one comes. Only a couple are emotionally draining (those with whom I've been close prior to their hardship), but all are time draining.

I find I begin to wait for this time to be over. Something in me senses that once I get past each of these things my work will be less difficult.

There have been two situations in particular that have been difficult. Recently when talking with a friend I mentioned my involvement in my workplace as we attempt to raise and borrow money for a new heating and A/C system (and a few other things). She asked me, "How do you know what to do?" I said, I don't, I just ask people questions and then wing it.

That's what I'm doing in these other situations. I don't know what to do. But, I know I have to do something. I've asked the right people (other professionals who have been trained to deal with this sort of thing) but that doesn't mean that everything will go according to the ideal plan. In some ways it's freeing to say "I don't know what the heck I'm doing." Even if it's just to myself (and this blogging community).

I got an e-mail from a parishioner who has been involved in this heating system stuff who hear a devotion I lead last night that talked about God in the midst of chaos. He mentioned that he forgets that a lot of this is probably new for me too - that I seem so wise and capable that he forgot that this might be new territory for me.

I'm both scared by that and honored. Wow - am I so much of a non-anxious presence that when my anxiety is truly there (like when talking about taking on hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt) I don't show it? Hah! Fooled them.

Jean Therapy

After a long and exhaustive search -

hours upon hours spent,

miles upon miles trod,

stores upon stores scoured,

and failure upon failure.....

I have found store where multiple pairs of jeans fit me!

I only purchased one pair this visit....but, I will return.

(Seriously, the last pair of jeans I was really happy with were found the winter that spanned 2001-2002...and they're falling apart. I've been looking intently for 2 years - and desperately for the last year.)

Alleluia.

Sit

I'm always amazed when it seems like I do nothing whatsoever and people feel like I'm doing so much.

We are doers - so much so that it's depressing for many elderly as they become less and less able to do what they formerly did.

But, I've sat with people a lot recently. Not doing anything...because really, what could I do?

My heart is hurting for some. It's sometimes in my throat for others - or in my stomach for still others. And I can't do anything.

And that's okay.

Today, my office was a safe place to share - earlier this week I was the person who hadn't yet heard the stories a million times - this weekend I'll be one who doesn't shun one embroiled in sin.

In a common confession we confess for the things we've done and the things we've left undone. But, it's not always about doing or not doing something. Although it's not very easy, I feel privileged to do my job by just sitting with another.

A Mirror to my Psyche

It seems that the busier I am, the more I get done and the happier I am.

My mom and I were talking about this phenomenon last night & she mentioned that it means that she doesn't have to figure out what her priorities are, the priorities do it for her.

I think that might be somewhat true for me - people don't wonder why I might not follow through with them in the same manner this week because they know what I'm preparing for. And, so, I'm able to do more reaching out than responding to people's self-prescribed emergencies. Also, actually having to deal with true emergencies helps me to put those other petty things in perspective.

Interruptions to my set schedule are important - it's how I find out a lot. It's part of my job - having time when people know they can catch me.

The other part is that I don't allow myself to get wrapped up in dumb things of my own doing. I'm preparing to have some people over to my house later this afternoon and I have these phone books that I keep meaning to take to recycle. They keep slowly moving towards the door and I don't want to hinder their movement. So, I put them in the corner of the staircase that has room for them and thought I might wrap them up like presents and set something on top of them to be decoration. Well, if I weren't quite so busy I might do that (which would then waste some time that I could use other places). Instead, they'll be (hopefully) covered by a cloth, maybe with something cute placed on top. But, rather than spend any time even considering wrapping - I was able to make a better decision.

I know, silly. Minor. But, a mirror to my psyche. :) (And, there's the title of the post).

A Fly on the Wall

Every once in a while my office's phone messaging system receives a message that seems as if someone accidentally dialed.

I think usually people listen to the really long message and either fade off or think they've hung up when they haven't.

I get a kick out of these calls - and sometimes feel as if I should listen for a little while in case the person was trying to leave a message and then got distracted. There's something somewhat scandalous listening into these snippets in people's lives that they didn't mean to share. Today all I heard was a TV in the background. Sometimes I've heard conversations that I haven't been able to understand any but a few words. I've heard someone scolding a dog and another person singing.

I'm amused by the frequency of these calls.

Breaking Anonymity

I'm frustrated with Blogger right now.

I already have 3 accounts and I was starting a new web page for the new book club I'm in. I didn't want a 4th account - so I tried to make two different names under the same account. Blogger help says I can do it. But nothing I do (even when I think I'm following the directions correctly) is working.

It makes me want to swear.

So, here I am - first name - out there, out in the open. It's such an unusual one, I'm sure my anonymity is completely gone.

Signed,
The Former Amused.

Nerdy

I wasn't really a true nerd in High School or College - I was just shy. I did, however, become a nerd in seminary. So much excites me about the stuff I'm supposed to be studying and teaching and preaching.

Amazingly, I continue to have new revelations - new insights...even if they are sometimes misguided. This entire season of Advent has been one - a new look at what we're actually doing (and it's not that we are awaiting a tiny little baby).

I get to teach about the Bible - the history - the way we read it - the interesting characters in it. It's not just about preaching a message - but about getting others to talk about what it might mean for our lives. It's exciting.

And when we're done in our Adult Bible Study class, we're going to bake communion bread.

I'm so lucky. And, I'm so nerdy. I can really claim it now.

The More Things Change, The More They Stay the Same

You've Changed 56% in 10 Years

You've done a good job changing with the times, but deep down, you're still the same person.You're clothes, job, and friends may have changed some - but it hasn't changed you.

How'>http://www.blogthings.com/howmuchhaveyouchangedin10yearsquiz/">How Much Have You Changed in 10 Years?

Saturday Night Theologian

Lately, I've been a Sat. Night theologian. Sometimes (like this morning) not even starting my sermon until Saturday late-morning. I had done a lot of study and thinking prior to this morning, but nothing was being formatted.

It's 6pm. I am almost done w/ my sermon. I've got some Bible Study planning to do. But, I'm feeling ready.

I have yet to be able to tell what makes a good sermon. I mean, I know mine aren't publish-worthy. I don't know that they would ever be. My writing style needs the right emphases and vocal tones - a lot of my sermon is what happens when I'm actually preaching (ad libbing included).

But, every time I think I totally bomb (or, rather, theologically, somehow block the spirit's work) someone comes up and says they think it was a great sermon. When I think I've had a good sermon, there is little to no response. I don't know what that means. Does it mean that people aren't sure what I'm saying? Does it mean that I can't get other people excited about what excites me? Does it mean I'm off base?

I get frustrated because it feels like I can't read my audience. And, because it's my job to connect, to get people thinking, I get frustrated that I can't seem to know how to do that - that I just stumble into it.

Unfortunately, it seems like I have a better success at stumbling into it when I do write my sermons on Saturday night. I'm not sure what that means either.

Day by Day

Sometimes it's a Nocturne by Chopin, sometimes it's the opening chapter of the Gospel of John, sometimes it's a song by an up and coming artist.

Yesterday it was something I can usually count on. Yesterday, I knew God's overwhelming presence through the following hymn:

Day by Day

Day by day, your mercies, Lord, attend me,
bringing comfort to my anxious soul.
Day by day, the blessings, Lord, you send me
draw me nearer to my heav'nly goal.
Love divine, beyond all mortal measure,
brings to naught the burdens of my quest;
Savior, lead me to the home I treasure,
where at last I'll find eternal rest.

Day by day, I know you will provide me
strength to serve and wisdom to obey;
I will seek your loving will to guide me
o'er the paths I struggle day by day.
I will fear no evil of the morrow,
I will trust in your enduring grace.
Savior, help me bear life's pain and sorrow
till in glory I behold your face.

Oh, what joy to know that you are near me
when my burdens grow too great to bear;
oh, what joy to know that you will hear me
when I come, O Lord, to you in prayer.
Day by day, no matter what betide me,
you will hold me ever in your hand.
Savior, with your presence here to guide me,
I will reach at last the promised land.

Ouch, pinching hurts.

A wise friend told me last week that my church and I sound like we are at a "pinch point." From what he said, it sounds like it's the time when we are recognizing each other's weaknesses and having to determine that we are going to deal with them.

I know I've let people down in the last year and a half, and yet for some reason, it seems like right now that is happening a lot. I know I've been let down too, and I sometimes forget that. It took me relating a particular story to my mom and her saying, "well, that's kind of mean" for me to realize that, yeah, it is. I sometimes lack that perspective.

It was actually only one particular instance that seemed to pinch really hard. But, that pinch left a bruise and all of the other little pinches that usually just tickle a little now hurt.

It was good to be with family these past few days, with people who love me no matter what. People I can literally physically lean on. A place where I don't have to wonder what I'm going to feed myself or how close I am to being out of toilet paper. In some ways, a place to nurse my wounds.

My bruise is now just starting to yellow and fade. I'm still sensitive. Last Monday I shared with the council that I had been having a hard week (the week before) - it was good to figuratively lean on them - even if they don't know what all of the weight I'm carrying is - they know that I'm struggling. And sometimes that's all I need.

To let someone else know that I'm hurting.

The picture of generosity

I don't think I even grasp the enormity of the Spirit at work. I can't even begin to express the generosity of people who have nothing.

Today, I preached from the Gospel of Mark - about the scribes who are full of themselves and devour widows houses & the poor widow who gave all that she had (2 coins worth a penny) to the temple's treasury. I focused on the Point of View - or the focus of each character - and that of Jesus.

I've written about our homeless man that is more a part of our congregation than many members. He attends almost every Sunday. He helps out on church work days and comes during the middle of the week to rake leaves or help with other outside labor. He brings tears to my eyes and humbles me in conversation about his faith (and right now as I type). He's kind, considerate, humble, works to hold his temper around some of the other campers - basically he lives with - who drink too much. He likes to sleep outside and feels stifled inside.

Today after the service (and after my sermon about the poor widow who gave everything), he came up to me to shake my hand (like many parishioners do) and told me the following story: yesterday he found himself (for the first time) at a particular agency that works with homeless people. He said that he stumbled upon their board meeting and everyone was invited to it. There were door prizes & he won a digital camera. Would we have any use for it?

We have had a digital camera on our "wish list" for a little more than 1/2 a year. We accepted the camera, and will put it to good use, as he would want us to.

I'm starting to get the feeling that my time here in this congregation is going to be defined more by my interaction with this one man than with anyone or anything else. I am humbled, amazed and inspired by him. I truly see Christ in him, even if he doesn't see it for himself. (We're working on that - on how he embodies Christ's love in the world).

When she told me her grandson had returned from Iraq, the tiny 80-something dedicated saint actually jumped up and down. She's a calm, reasonable woman, but she jumped up and down - and I left with a lipstick mark on my cheek.

I got to hold an 8 month old baby with big blue eyes today. Apparently she loves to dance to Christina Aguliara. Her mom says it's better than Justin Timberlake.

Last night I got to play detective as the Property chair and I walked through the building to be sure no one was camping out there. Apparently a man had been in a back staircase the day we have an older adults group - he ran out the outside door when the "older adult" surprised him. I love church buildings - I could walk around sanctuaries in the dark all the time. Of course, we also had to look through the basement. The Property chair let me hold the flashlight.

Supporting the self-sufficient and secretive

It's not uncommon for people to invite me into their pain and tell me they don't want anyone to know.

Two more people have cancer. Neither wants anyone to know.

Neither wants me to go to any extra effort with them (whether bringing communion to the one who is homebound or going and praying with the other while (or before) her chemo at the hospital).

Both want me to pray.

And, I get it. I think I would be like that too. It is difficult when so many people continuously ask "how are you doing?" with that look of pity in their eyes. It's even more difficult if no one goes to any extra effort to offer care.

I'm not sure how much to push it for these women who have a hard time asking for help. I'll call to check in. Should I ever show up unannounced? That seems like it's going too far.

An off-topic PS - when I spell-checked, one of the suggestions to replace "Chemo" was "Cheney." Well, he does sometimes induce vomiting and loss of hair.

Mob Mentality

I spent a lot of this week standing outside in a crowd of people listening to someone speak/demand/incite.

Yeah, I got to hear Barack Obama (who really does give me hope for our country) and Cindy Sheehan and I got to be part of a symbolic backdrop for something that received little to no press (against reinstating the death penalty).

One of my parishioners regularly asks me where the activist clergy are. He wants someone to lead an outcry against injustice. He wants marches in the streets with angry shouts and rallies. We've had some good conversations around this, especially around the incredible isolation of leadership and need for support for said activist clergy.

But, I also wonder about the climate. I've taken part in marches and gatherings and protests. I believe in using my voice, in gathering people to do so together, bringing a more powerful presence. But, do these protests, do these marches, to these gatherings ever bring about change? It seems reactionary rather than progressive. Couldn't the same amount of energy produce greater results by working for justice in different ways.

Am I just becoming cynical? or worse, lazy? or even worse, ambivalent?

I do get that people are energized by these events. And, a show of support (my main purpose for attending two of these events - Barack was for fun) encourages and gives credence to someone's position.

Maybe I just don't like crowds (and maybe this is a good excuse to avoid practicing my sermon at 9:30 on Saturday night).

Barely contained...

My Canadian pastor friend, Jason, called last night to say hi and to run the concept of his sermon by me. On this Reformation Sunday he, in true Lutheresque mode, decided that the best metaphor for sin is farting.

You know, that sometimes we just can't help it, that it can pervade the room or be silent, but deadly, or be a little toot that no one notices. He also likened it to the fact that sometimes we try to blame it on someone else, or worse yet (my opinion) that we proudly claim it.

So, for worship at my congregation this morning we had a former pastor back to share the Word in continued celebration of our 75th Anniversary year. He also had the children's sermon and started to talk about sin - and that sometimes it just builds up and builds up until you just need to confess- and at about that time I could feel the giggles building up and building up inside me.

He and the parents that were up there with their kids probably just thought I was smiley broadly as he shared the Word with the kids. If only they knew what I was thinking...

Pastor = Me = Friend

I had a really good pastoral day yesterday. Since kids in public schools in this area had off, I had one of my monthly classes - from 9-12...we only got through 2/3rds of what I'd planned, but they were asking good questions and were invested.

Had three intense and good pastoral visits with people - over surgery, death, and theological discovery.

But, I worry. I think one of the same things that makes me a good pastor makes me a good friend. And, when I overuse my good listening and making connections muscles in my job, they're just worn out and weak when I talk with friends.

No matter how interesting, how entertaining, how close I feel to the person, I find myself distracted and not as able to make connections or listen as carefully.

I do, however, bubble over with talking about myself. And so it sometimes becomes a bit of a lopsided conversation.

I guess what I have going for me is that I'm self-aware. At least I know my tendencies.

It's not really what I want to say. But, it's what I can.

My morning was incredibly emotional.

And good.

However, with the exception of how my parents and my sermon were received by my congregation, everything that I really feel like I would want to share is not appropriate for me to share at this point.

So - people were so very nice to my folks. It was an interesting group that gathered around them at coffee hour this morning. Huh. I just realized it was four of the six members of the call committee that were sitting at the table with them for some of the time.

My mom and dad said it was a really interesting conversation - about war and forgiveness (inspired somewhat by my sermon). They had similar impressions of some people as I have (or do). Which was good - reinforced some gut instincts I've had about people.

My sermon seemed to connect to people from various points of view. We held worship in the fellowship hall because our heat hasn't been turned on yet and the fellowship hall is naturally warmer than the sanctuary. I wonder if the space makes preaching more effective. So, now the question is - do I want to do something about that? And if so - what?

Sometimes I hate confidentiality. What I really want to reflect on is confidential. Maybe I should dust of the old paper journal in my nightstand.

Healthy Souls

Had a healing service this am. I had been freaking out a little bit beforehand because I was not nearly as prepared as I should have been. And yet - it was amazing.

Our practice is that people are invited forward to kneel at the altar to receiving laying on of hands and anointing with oil. They generally are asked if there is anything in particular for which they'd like to pray. Usually people have tons of physical ailments and there is never any mention of mental/emotional or spiritual health. Each time we've had one of these things I've mentioned the entirely of health, not only focusing on physical ailments. But, maybe it was my sermon, maybe it was because the building was cold (we haven't turned our heat on yet), maybe it's recognition that we are more than our physical selves - a large percentage of people asked for prayer for a specific emotional/mental or spiritual health issue - either for themselves or for a loved one.

From bi-polar disorder, to impatience, to doubt, to inability to forgive, to feeling betrayed by the institutional church...it was amazing. If you can't verbalize this stuff with God and at church something is not right.

Unfortunately, I also found out that 2 people have recently been diagnosed with cancer and a third is having another test after she's been in remission for a little over a year. Not the way I like to discover that. Ick.

Judge Amused

Sometimes I feel so shallow. People come to me with these big problems and tell me about the episodes that change their lives. What do I say? How do I guide them? I have no wisdom for them.

Most of the time I don't really need to know anything - just to guide people to help them to see God working in their lives. But, every once in a while, part of my job is to help people keep in check.

With my job I've actually told someone that she was sinning and that she needed to stop it. I've sat across from a different someone and said that her feelings were valid, but that the action she was contemplating needed to be checked.

Who the heck am I to be saying that to someone?

Recently I sat next to someone whom I constantly judge. This person is one whom I sometimes think of when forming a sermon that talks about greed or superiority. And, it's unfair. Yes, I get a bit of a negative vibe from her - not because she is negative, I just don't trust her. But, she has done very little to make me mistrust her. Who needs to be judged here? Looks like me.

Priority of Dilemmas

Dilemma: I leave in 40 hours for a Wonderful Week aWay.
I have a bunch of delicious food that will be good for some time, however, each thing, if opened, will go bad before I get back.

I love that this is the dilemma that consumes me (heh, no pun intended) and stops me in my ability to act. It's not the fact that our cleaning person basically is not able to do the work and we have no one filling in. Nor the fact that we need to have someone come open the building next Monday night and no one has stepped forward. Nor the fact that I'm unable to do everything I'd like to before I leave tomorrow.

I guess it comes right down to Maslow's hierarchy of needs - if the belly isn't satisfied, nothing else matters.

Too Much 2

I typed the title "Too Much" and my computer remembered that I had previously titled something "Too Much." Is that Much Too Much?

But, yet again, here I am, feeling like Too Much is happening. Too Much work. Too Much food eaten alone (not too much because of the amount of food but because of the frequency of singleness).

Too Much BIG STUFF. Like, publicly calling city officials on inappropriate behavior. Like, being challenged by a fellow clergy person for wanting (too much) definition. Like, pushing my congregation into a possibly politically charged thing it may not be ready for. Like, opening up the "BIG KITCHEN DEBATE 2006". Like helping another congregation choose a pastor.

And, for some reason, my congregation is attracting more and more people who have mental and/or emotional challenges. And, they take a little more patience and time.

Currently, I have two Sunday worships, a wedding, a 3-hour long confirmation time, and 11 days before a glorious week of vacation. I'll be ready for that time away with dear ones. If anything is too much then - it'll be all those things that we want too much of - friends, food, fun, sleep (oh, sleep).

Good Council

An hour and a half council meeting tonight. Good work done. There was some intensity around a recurring issue that came up in a committee report (having to do with one of our ministries). After spending 20 minutes on it the council came to a conclusion. Later on our agenda was this very same issue (that we thus didn't need to spend any time on) but one of the council members asked if I would relay a touching story that I had previously told him of how this ministry has made a difference in a person's life. He said, "After going around and around for months and months on such a petty issue, it's good to remember that what we do isn't about [the issue], but about the ministry we do."

So true.

My congregation's council is so good right now. We had a retreat on Saturday. They have and are working hard. And they have and are doing a fantastic job. It is such a relief. (I say as I realize that I am energized after this meeting - and that the last truly bad council meeting I remember was last November. From Aug-Nov of '05 council meetings were at least 3 hours long. Miserable.)

Another issue (from this very same ministry) was included on the committee report as a recommendation. It had very little information and did not really come out of a meeting, but out of the committee chair's head when she was writing up the other recommendation. In the past, I've had to be the one to note that there really wasn't any specific request, so we really didn't have anything to talk about. This time, it was noted, it was discussed for all of 2 minutes as to what the person might mean. It was then determined that we needed to table it to ask for more clarification from the committee. In the past, this would have been an issue that went on for 1/2 an hour. I'm so proud.

Yes, recognition of what isn't being done correctly came out of this meeting. Recognition of some problems (like one of the committee chairs is sending her committee reports via e-mail, but they aren't being received...arrgh!). But, it feels like I am part of a great team.
Amen.

Mouth - opened or closed

The following may be a mess of thoughts without direction or center.

I have been bouncing back and forth rapidly between feeling the need to shut up, be humble, and think through what I say carefully on one side and on the other the gut instincts, the education I've been given through books, class, and life, and the emotion that drives me through frustration and urgency of purpose.

In the last month I have put my foot in my mouth frequently. I have often challenged others - hopefully making them think about something, possibly alienating them from myself. I have allowed myself to be triggered - and I have responded well in some situations where I would have felt like a putz if I said nothing. I have responded not so well when the same urgency hasn't been there.

I sometimes don't know when to open my mouth. But then, there are some times that I don't know when to keep it shut. I sometimes am too nice. But then, sometimes I am too blunt - sometimes even rude.

I suppose I'm still learning - as I always will be, but it's a higher curve right now.

I just wished I wasn't always second guessing myself right now. Should I have said something else? Should I have spoken up? Should I have just kept my mouth shut?

The Soundtrack of My Life

The potency of music astounds me. I subscribe to Paste Magazine, which sends out it's magazine 6 times a year with a CD of music (and sometimes a DVD included as well. The music is usually stuff I haven't yet heard, but some of which will soon be popular. Some of the artists are known, some are not.

I'm playing the newest CD this morning, I haven't yet gotten all the way through it. But, a couple of the songs have completely tugged at my emotions - pulling out emotions of melancholy, of contentment, of wonder, of excitement. The music takes over.

Worship is like this for me too. I need music - both the stuff that has stood the test of time, but also the new stuff. It's such a challenge to balance these two at times, especially when the best singers prefer the old stuff, but I think we're doing okay at singing stuff everyone knows most of the time, with one newer selection thrown in a Sunday.

And, now we're talking about changing liturgy - scary :)

Anyway, on NPR a while ago there was someone who was talking about what happens in the brain during music. I don't remember the specifics, but the music that pulls us the most is often the music that throws in a surprise - something that goes along with the expected, but then has a key change or a different note or word that intrigues us. And, that brings us satisfaction in some way.

I suppose, music in some ways is an acting out of life - or a singing out of life. The emotions, the urges, and the desire for some order within chaos.

Knocked upside the head

My congregation has a weekly soup kitchen. Lately I've felt reluctant to attend...and due to not feeling the greatest this afternoon contemplated skipping. I'm so glad I didn't.

It was a bit of a rough start because I had to have one of those sit-downs in order to iron out the juvenile temper tantrum by a member who is old enough to be....well, somewhere between my mother and grandmother. This conversation went longer than I had time for...but the temper tantrum is over (and has been moved past with fantastic results).

Anyway, that's not why I'm writing. I had some amazing conversations tonight. A family that used to attend regularly, but has been MIA for the last 4 months returned, only to say they are moving "up north" this weekend. I hope it's a good move for them. They don't have it easy here.

One of our "campers" was extremely agitated and one of the volunteers rushed over to get me. I sat down with her and learned that a man who had been rifling through her belongings last night came and sat down at their table as if nothing had happened. She was pissed - and scared. We talked for a while...going through feelings of anger, fear, excitement at a relatively new relationship, talking about how to appropriately deal with the anger (which she apologized for swearing and then went on to say in the same breath "but that da** mother f***er was going through my sh**). We talked for a long time with many hugs - and many tears. I went back to my dinner and watched her from across the room as she proceeded to calmly eat her meal, then, pick up her bag and go to another table where she joined other campers.

I had barely finished my 2nd bite of food when I was interrupted by the same man who the woman accused of rifling through her stuff. He knew me (I recognized him...but couldn't recall his name). He proceeded to tell me some of what's been going on with his life...including the job he lost, the plan to do a jobs program, that he's been drinking again (which anyone would have been able to tell), and that he lost his Bible. We talked for a long time and I think I played my role well...but I hadn't thought he would retain anything. And, he might not...but I overheard him telling the doctor (our congregation has just started hosting a monthly free clinic), "Did you know the pastor here is a woman? Before I met her I had never met a woman pastor. I don't usually listen to women. My mom, my sister, my girlfriend...I don't listen to any of them. But, she's a pastor, she's got authority. I've got to listen to her. And, she knows what she's talking about." Remember, he's drunk. I'm not delusional to think I've changed his life forever...but I sat in my office simultaneously entertained, honored, hopeful, and skeptical.

The next encounter I had was with a man who just needed to talk to for a couple minutes. He didn't want anything, but he lost his job last week (due to asking to switch his schedule because he is training for another job) and will start at that new job in two weeks. He said he'll be okay, but after next week things might be tight for a little while. I'm glad he told me...I asked him if he wanted to take any canned food tonight and he said "No, not now. I might next week though."

But, the topper? A "camper" who had been attending the summer Wednesday communion service (but not taking communion) came up to tell me that his been working through some of his thoughts about God - and that I and the congregation have helped him to feel God's love. He actually said "you show God's love to so many people." and "God's love shines through you and through the others who work here." He is someone who is always very authentic in who he is...or at least has seemed to be. He's planning to come on Sunday. He hadn't wanted to commune because he thought he couldn't put God's sacrament into his "unclean" body. (Meaning spiritually, not physically).

Tears keep welling up as I think of him. When he said he was wanting to come on Sunday I emphasized that he is very welcome to come - and is welcome to come to communion. I said, "we believe that we take communion not because we are clean, but so that we might be clean. Communion is given to us - and we ask God to work within us...it's assurance that God is working within us."

"That's the conclusion I came to." He responded. "See you Sunday."

Slump

Slump - it's how I'm sitting, it's what I feel my sermons have been in, it's what I feel I'm in. Even my plants are all slumping! Oh, maybe they just need water.

I have ideas. I have energy around these ideas. I just don't have energy around getting other people excited about these ideas. And, I'm feeling a scarcity of these people's time. It's not that people don't want to be committed. It's just there are other life situations that come in.

Man, now I'm just complaining. I have barely gotten back after vacation - I haven't taken the time to sit down and map out what I need to do. It's all possible - I just feel like I'm the one that needs to get organized before any of it happens.

I'm feeling lazy.

So I slump.

In the cups?

I love that as you drive through WI on I-90 and I-94 it's entirely possible to constantly listen to NPR. The stations' schedules may be entirely different and so you might very well listen to the same program two hours in a row - but for the most part it offers the opportunity to be an NPR junkie.

As I returned from a glorious vacation at my family cabin (that's what vacation should be - reading, sleeping, in the water, playing games, cooking, eating, chatting with loved ones), I heard on NPR that Milwaukee topped the Forbes list of "America's Drunkest Cities." Huh, I thought - not too unusual. I've often thought people drink here more than most other places I've lived....until I heard that Minneapolis-St. Paul was #2.

Yesterday morning, it was the front page article. And, wouldn't you know it - not only is Minneapolis-St. Paul second, but Austin, Texas is fifth and Chicago is sixth. So, other than college (which incidentally while I was there I heard a rumor that it was known as a great party college because of one weekend in the spring - not that I think it was considered that by most who attended), the only place that I have lived that wasn't included on the list was Tacoma.

So, according to this list, in order for me to round out the top six, I need to live in Columbus, OH and Boston. How's that for some direction?

Self-Centered

I had an interaction yesterday that bugged me. And, it was glaringly obvious that my role in the interaction was what bugged me. It was also glaringly obvious that the reason the interaction happened at all was due to the other person's insecurities.

I don't think it's always true, but I do believe that most of the time we like someone or something based upon how it makes us feel. If someone makes us feel intelligent or like we have worth, we appreciate that person. If we feel as if they don't really care to know about us we feel indifferent or even dislike him or her.

But, do those people that make us feel like they care really care? Or, are they just better at playing the game of schmooze.

I think I'm fairly good at the game of schmooze. I have begun to realize lately though, that I do disregard some people without really realizing it. I might be fully aware of the person, but choose not to put the energy into an interaction.

At some continuing ed in July I sat down next to one of my classmates and asked him how his week had been. Instead of answering my question he said "You want to sit next to me? I thought you didn't like me!" To be honest, I found some of his actions a little annoying, and I didn't fall into the youngish crowd's way of cliquishly doing things - so I may have avoided some of them. But, I had not consciously thought of avoiding him or whether I liked him or not. But, what did I communicate to him? I obviously communicated something that did not affirm him.

I wonder if I do this in my congregation as well. I've been thinking about how I make people feel.

A short fling

I have just experienced a short-lived relationship. I first developed a crush on this guy right after the toll just as you leave Illinois towards Wisconsin on 94. He passed me as I was about to pass the person ahead of me - and then - get this - he moved into the middle lane!

That's right - he was not a left-lane-lingerer.

Since he was moving about the same speed I wanted to go, I edged in behind him. Each time he passed a car he would return to the center lane - using that left hand lane as the passing lane (as it should be). I would follow behind him anywhere -

well, not quite. We parted ways because he insisted on going around the city of Milwaukee while I very much needed to go into it.

*Sigh*

He was cute and early-30s too.

Waging Tongues

Received an e-mail yesterday from someone who had been an intern at my congregation almost 30 years ago and who is now an assistant to a bishop in another synod that said "I hear you are doing great things at Unity." Received an e-mail today from a seminary professor that said "I have heard great things about your ministry." This afternoon I talked to an intern at another congregation in town who said "members of my congregation are friends with members of your congregation and they say that you are doing a wonderful job."

Why does all of this make me nervous?

I also feel some pride and encouragement with these declarations. But, it does make me wonder, "Who is talking?"

Frustrations & Guilty Feelings

Sometimes it just feels like all the chaos of the congregation I serve falls on top of me - and I can't handle it. At 6:45 tonight, it happened. The industrial freezer in the kitchen broke, the 2 people who are supposed to monitor the building during the Clinic (that just opened its doors) each had life situations that made it impossible for them to stay, the kids who are staying in our building arrived, almost all of the lights in both women's bathrooms were reported out, a few individuals from the soup kitchen "needed" to chat with me, and I was late in setting up our Wednesday communion service.

I was short with the soup kitchen volunteer who discovered the freezer and will need to call him tomorrow. He won't hold the grudge, but I still feel badly. I called the property chair and passed all the building stuff to him (who graciously arrived quickly - and he regularly repeats to me that he is there to support me), slipped out of the conversations with the soup kitchen guests, asked a soup kitchen volunteer to cover the office, and arrived at the worship service 2 minutes prior to 7, having found almost everything set up by the attendees.

Sometimes this job is just so heavy. And, I wonder how I'm supposed to move anything ahead when I'm frustrated by the amount with which I'm just trying to keep up.

I suppose I should take into consideration that I've had two key funerals, a wedding and a renewal of vows all in the last week. I suppose I should take into consideration the fact that the last full day I had off was July 4th. I suppose I should take into consideration that some very good things have happened in the last few days - some good things in which I've had key roles.

I have vacation coming up mid-August...and again early October. I'm counting down the days. (14)

Death and Other Losses

I've been pouty and crabby the last few days and I don't like the pouty, crabby Amused.

I've had many funerals in the last year. So many that I'm no long nervous about them. But the funeral tomorrow is different. When I met him a little over a year ago he was a relatively healthy early 70's guy with a constant story and joke. 7 months ago he was diagnosed with cancer. This funeral is different because I walked with him - I knew him. (As did almost everyone in the congregation). And, I too will miss him.

I'm also crabby because I am anticipating other losses. Two of my secular friends leave very soon for a new city. They are the ones that knew me before I was Pastor Amused and with whom I rarely fall into "shop talk." They are the ones that keep in touch with what others my age (without the demanding careers) are like.

We've had 4 20-somethings staying at church all summer through a mission trip organization (they are the staff that hosts between 40 and 70 youth at our church from all over the country to do mission trips). And they leave in a little over a week. It has been so much fun to have them there all the time. Not to mention the ministry they do.

And, my summer roommate will be leaving the same day the mission trip staff do - likely within an hour of each other. We were just talking yesterday about living with people and I freely admit that I do like to live alone - but I am sure going to miss her when she leaves. My house will be more boring, and the possibility of easy conversation at the end of the day gone.

I am pretty good at being the one who leaves. I don't like being the one who stays. And so I'm crabby - and throwing a pity party for myself. It's not at all attractive.

Out of focus

I'm supposed to be writing a sermon. I didn't preach this morning, and I don't preach next Sunday - but I've still got three sermons in the next week and I haven't started any of them - at least not in earnest.

I'm searching - I'm not sure for what. I want something to inspire me - something to excite me. When this happens I spend way too much perusing the internet - hoping that something will interest me - hoping that something will be intriguing.

There is no order to my search - either my internet search for interesting items or my search for the right way to begin any of these sermons. But, I just don't have the energy to narrow my field of vision. I just don't have the urgency to sit down and type out a masterpiece.

I would love for someone else to swoop in and fix it all for me - my boredom and my lack of inspiration.

Saturday Morning Etiquette

This Spring and Summer I've been a fairly consistent runner. I tend to run at lesser populated times - just after the early morning rush during the week, or right at the dinner hour. And for some reason when I've run on Saturdays it's not been good weather.

Today was different - the paths were packed and I crossed paths with families and dogs and bikers and meanderers as well as a few other runners.

In this area, unless the other person avidly avoids eye contact, everyone gives a greeting as you pass one another. Usually I puff out a "hey" or "hi" in my exhale...saving my breath as I trudge along...and that has seemed to be perfectly acceptable - in fact what many other people do.

But, I believe I just discovered a secret that everybody but myself knows - Saturday mornings it is considered proper etiquette to issue an entire "Good Morning" to all you meet. Even as bikers race by a "good morning" is tossed back. If you pass families ambling down the path it's proper to greet each single person - one "good morning" for the group is quite rude.

Near the beginning of my run, as I discovered this "good-morning-itis" I started to stretch my "hey" to "hey-llo" and near the end I actually started to say "good morning."

I no longer blink when someone calls a drinking fountain a "bubbler" or an ATM machine a "tyme machine" (no, not time machine...which is what I thought they were saying - Tyme is the brand name, like Kleenex is to tissue). I'm getting used to and even picking up some of the idiosyncrasies of the area - but, I guess there are some things yet to discover.

Good Morning.

Cake for Dinner

I really enjoy living alone. I've had some great roommates (and I don't just say that because Belle and Meckhead will read this, but because it's true - they're amazing!). But it's nice to have my own place, to know that I can come home and be a hermit, or leave the dishes in the sink, or clean something spotless and know it'll stay that way until I dirty it. I really enjoy living alone, but everything is good in moderation.

I have a roommate for 7 weeks this summer. A friend of my sister's is taking an intensive graduate program (her MFA - Masters of Fine Arts) - and is in the 1st summer of the program. She moved into my spare bedroom a little over a week ago and I am so glad that she is here.

It was nice as I heard of my grandpa's death and then leaving in a hurry for the visitation and funeral, to know that someone was here and would be here. It's been nice on the day-to-day to know that my house will not be empty when I come home. We have fun together and talk easily with one another.

Of course, there is the perk of the food. My new roomie loves to cook - and bake. It's a great deal, really, 'cause I don't mind the cleaning up. Plus, since she's vegetarian, and her profession requires care for the body, much of the food she makes is loads healthier than what I would make. Except for the cake.

And that's what I had for dinner - cake with delicious chocolate frosting. And a good sized glass of milk. This roommate thing really has its perks!

Oxytocin and Grief

Sometime I need to keep track of phone calls from friends. Not necessarily who calls and why, but the patterns and times. I've wondered for some time if my friends all had some secret spidey sense that told them they should call me because often I'll go a couple of weeks without a call and then in three days I'll hear from 8 friends. It's not like it only happened once or twice - this has been a fairly regular pattern.

In today's "Lifestyle" section of the paper there is a rather long article originally from the Los Angeles Times entitled "The resilient sex gets boosts from biology, behavior" talking of women's biological and sociological aptitude for caring for oneself and each other. (Strange that this article is on Father's Day - the entire rest of the paper seems to be about people's relationships with their Dads). Here's an excerpt:

"The female instinct to call in the helper troops, that network of girlfriends, sets up a chemical cycle unique to women. When females fee stress, Taylor (a social neuroscientist from the University of California - LA) says, the hormone oxytocin is released. That encourages them to protect the kids and start the telephone tree. Contact with children or friends releases more oxytocin, further calming them and everyone around them. The hormone works better at reducing stress for women, Taylor says, because estrogen apparently enhances the action of oxytocin, while testosterone seems to reduce its effect."

I want to keep tract of those phone calls because I almost wonder if there isn't something else - some sense of connection when people are thinking of someone or need a friend.

This week was one of those weeks with lots of calls. And, I am glad to have had them - because it meant that I went into Saturday night and Sunday with more strength and I suppose more oxytocin. You see, my grandpa died peacefully last night at 9:30pm. And, even though I haven't called to specifically tell anyone about it, I feel supported by those friends who I've talked to in the last week or so.

My grandpa was ready to go - he really didn't wake up the entire day yesterday. And not only do I firmly believe he is with God, but he believed it too, and was eager for it.

I'm sad, and I cry a bit because it means that life will change and I will miss him. But, I know that my family will be okay - that my grandma will be okay - she is an incredibly capable person - and has a good network of family and friends.

And, I'm glad that I have a good network - surrounding me in thoughts, prayers and the occasional phone call.

Perspective from the Pew

Just got back from my 1st-year review with the call committee, the council and the assistant to the bishop. And, I needed that to help put things in perspective.

What I got from it is that people aren't seeing all of the effort I put in because it seems that what I'm doing comes naturally. People haven't thought that my sermons have gone downhill since Lent...it's just what I think. People in fact think they can see a steady improvement. Huh.

And, they think I've been wonder woman and gotten things in order. Because people are working together and are feeling like we're doing something good. Because the building is being used and more people are coming to worship.

It was good for me to share with them, though, that I'm not as confident as I come across. It was good for me to share with them that I'm not sure what people are getting from my sermons because often people don't comment and when they do it's "good sermon" with no elaboration on the message. It was good for me to hear that I could be even more pointed and push them more - and that some of them, at least, would appreciate it - and that they would all back me up...maybe not so much in the issue, but that it is my role to do so.

The comment that made me smile the most came from one of council members reconnaissance missions as he overheard some members talking about me and jotted a few notes. They mentioned that they like my singing voice and that my sermons are to the point, but one comment was "She really listens...she doesn't always agree with you, but what can you expect?"

I am thankful that someone at least feels heard. Because I wonder as I dash around and try to juggle everything, as I get frustrated and impatient - I wonder how to give the appropriate time to things and if I delegate my time appropriately.

And, I'm glad that they know I'm going to speak my opinion. Even if it is different than their own.

More on eyes and grandpas

My eye is indeed black. After the puffiness went down, I've got a nice black streak underneath it. Fortunately, my glasses help to disguise it.

This morning I helped move my grandpa from the hospital to the hospice room of a local nursing home. He's the same guy - social, love to philosophize and tell people things. But, he's tired. He frequently needs to close his eyes to rest for a few minutes.

As I sat with him I found myself closing my eyes for a few minutes too. I'm not sick, but I am tired - and my eyes closed easily.

My grandpa's pastor came in about an hour before I had to leave this noon. I was glad of that. I felt that I needed someone to read Psalm 121 and pray. I'm glad I was there.

The car ride back home was long and exhausting. And, my eyes are red and puffy again - from crying this time, not from the injury. I look a mess. But, with perspective, I'm doing alright.

Prayers for my grandpa are appreciated though.

Automatic Shut-off...and on

My grandpa is dying.

He was diagnosed with cancer about 6 months ago which they thought was contained within a small area. Last week they discovered that it was all over his system.

It was my congregation's 75th anniversary celebration this week. It was a huge to-do. It was also synod assembly. So, I've not had a day off in over 2 weeks (didn't even take Memorial Day off...although I did work less (only 6 hours). And, this past week I've been pulling frequent 10, more frequent 12 hour+ days.

So, I haven't really had time to think about my grandpa. I've been a bit stoic and brushing away emotion that comes with knowing that I'm going to miss him. I cried a little the first night I found out, and a little last night, but I think last night had as much to do with all of the stress from the 75th.

Today, cleaning up after the celebration I gave myself what may very well turn into a black eye by bending down too quickly in a darkened room to pick something up and whacking myself right on the cheekbone, near my nose and eye.

And, I cried. I sobbed like a baby in that darken stairwell with my parishioners just outside.

And after I made it to my office with ice, I sobbed some more.

I needed that.

Now, my emotions can be more normal.

Staying Power

Last year I was so looking forward to being settled. And, it hasn't really happened yet.

This is the first time in a long time that I am not packing up and getting ready to move at the beginning of the summer - or looking towards the quickly approaching time that I will leave.

In all my moving around I've formed good friends, but always with the understanding that I would be leaving. Now, I'm someplace to stay (for a while at least) and I'm still feeling somewhat separated.

That's my way of explaining the funk I've been in lately. Really, I'm lonely. And, I'm not sure where I'm headed. Or, what I want to do about almost anything.

There is something in me that is rebelling against staying. It takes boldness and strength to stay. I'm going to - I just don't want to put the energy to creating a healthy living situation...because, well - I'm not so good at creating community for myself (even though I think I'm pretty great at helping others to do it).

What I'd really like would be to have a magic wand waved over my life, to have ready made community, a less-stressful role at work (not a different role...just less-stressful), whatever it is that makes exercising fun for some people in me, and a romantic relationship with a wonderful guy.

Why is everything so much work?

100th Post

According to the dashboard count, this is my 100th posting on my blog. Is there going to be a shower of confetti or should I give out ridiculously expensive prizes to all my listening audience? It seems as if it should be a profound post that leaves y'all contemplating the myteries of life.

I do like marking occasions. I like birthdays and weddings. I like honoring achievement. But, profundity is not in the cards for this day.

But, I suppose that is appropriate. On this quiet blog, a quiet celebration. The purpose of this blog isn't to change the world or to do anything other than to help organize my thoughts and feelings and share them with some trusted friends (and those who find me). And, it's to keep me grounded.

Has it done this? I think it has - forcing me or rather giving me the opportunity to put gut feelings and thoughts into framed words and paragraphs. The Primary Wonder that God is sustaining me in all of the chaos continues to be the base of me - and of this blog.

Throw some confetti if you wish - I'm marking this 100th post with, well, this post.

Just a Few Minutes

I have just a few minutes to be home today. And, while I don't have anything that I really want to do while I'm here at home (although my dishes are calling to me), and lots to do at work...I don't want to go back until I have to.

This morning was a hard one, for no real reason. But, after just a few minutes with some smart colleagues, the day became better. I just needed to get out of my self-pity party (that really has no reason other than hormones) and into doing what I really do love.

I was about to leave the office at 3 today, but was running just a few minutes late. Good thing I was, because my 3:15 appointment that I was reminded about yesterday, showed up 5 minutes early. I'm working with a boy scout as he earns his faith badge or something. (Isn't there something a little wrong about earning a badge for faith?) It was a fun teaching hour - that I hadn't prepared for at all, but with just a few minutes of looking over the material, I was ready.

In college, my friend Kate and I made a list of things you could do in a 20 minute window. We realized that almost everything of any importance could happen in 20 minutes. I don't need that list now to fill my time (not that I did when I was in college, it was just a random conversation that I'm so good at having), but I do sometimes stand in the middle of a room with just a few minutes in which to fill. I think I should add to that list "stare into space and daydream."

No vacation for the mind

I'm on vacation in times past.

Visiting my brother in CA, at his volunteer house brings me back to my volunteer year - at least at the beginning of it before we stopped trying. (It was hard w/ only two - and neither of us came at this thing naturally, so we composted, we recycled, we didn't buy things with lots of packaging, but we didn't really challenge each other about other habits).

My mind has been racing in the last few days because it feels like certain decisions have to be made. Intentionality of work, of carrying out vision, of living in the world. Between talking at a fundraising dinner for my seminary, continuing ed at a clergy event for faith-based community organizing, and coming to crash and be hosted by my brother's volunteer house makes me realize habits I've fallen into, and how I'm juggling different world realities and visions. I wonder how they can be managed together - and the contradictions of living in these different worlds.

But, I'm on vacation. My mind may not stop racing, but I can at least allow myself to be distracted by the sights of San Francisco.

Suffering Sermons

(The title should be said in the manner of the Warner Brothers cartoon character lisping "suffering sucatash")

I preached my last sermon (knock on wood) until Mother's Day. That's right. I've got next Sunday off and the 7th is Youth Sunday in which one of the youth is going to preach. (I feel semi-nervous about that because I've tried to set up appointments to meet with me so I can help him - taking my call to Word and Sacrament seriously - and I'm leaving town on Tuesday. I have already mentioned to the youth director that next year it will be the expectation that the preaching youth speak with me as they prepare the sermon).

Anyway - I've got 21 days until I preach again - it's amazing!

In some of my recent ponderings I've been so very amazed at the power I've been given. How many other people are given the opportunity to present ideas to a captive (ok, maybe only semi-captive) audience weekly? How many other people get to guide people as they think about their lives? It's an amazing privilege. And, an intimidating responsibility.

A responsibility that I'm glad to be free of for a short time, but that I'm sure I'll be glad to pick up again. I need a break. My sermons have been suffering for a lack of a break - for a lack of hearing others preach.

Rest, mind, rest.

Me

I feel a little like I'm gonna burst, but I'm not sure with what.

I'm exhausted.

I love Holy Week. I love Easter. I really do love my job (why am I always surprised by that?).

Funeral tonight - I'm really just the collar. Didn't need anything else. Really didn't need to be there except that it's only proper to have a pastor there.
Sobs for the 77 yr old woman who suffered from Alzheimers for the last 5 years. All I knew of her was these last 9 months - not good ones for her - where she couldn't even lift her head on her own.

I have so much fun with the funeral home guys. Is that wrong? Almost all of them have new babies or their wives are pregnant. I wonder if being involved in the business of death makes you feel the need to repopulate.

I'm exhausted.

Drinking last of a bottle of wine (gotta finish it up) and finishing off the last of my girl scout cookies. (Why does it turn into a gorge-fest every time I open up those boxes?)

Got an e-mail today from a parishioner detailing his Lenten experience. Amazingly, the services to him weren't all about the tasks and the details - he actually got the theology behind everything. My eyes water every time I think of that e-mail. (He even quoted the main point of my Easter sermon!)

Spiritual direction today helped me to spurt out everything that I've been experiencing. It felt so safe. And, helped me realize that God is within it all.

My plane takes off for California (and my brother) in one week and 10 hours.

Am I going to make it? I feel like I'm going to burst.

Tomorrow - with the only must do the committal. Feels good.

Sleep, will come tonight - it must...and if it doesn't come early I can sleep in.

I love my people - my congregation. The interactions, the energy, the care they give one another and me. I wouldn't get rid of one of them (at this time...even my alligator is turning out to be more of a flea than an alligator). And so many are in pain. So many are dealing with things so much bigger than what I'm personally dealing with. And they come to me. They share with me. They look for me to help them see how God is involved. And, I love them. And I cry when I think about it.

This is me. These are my thoughts at the moment. In a couple of minutes I'm going to completely turn off and become one with one of those detective shows on tv. I don't know which one - whichever one is on and gets good reception.

Free to Worship

After Thursday evening and Friday evening services, after an entire day at church with an amazing work crew (cleaning and decorating for tomorrow) - I got my worshipful experience.

I got to be one of two "storytellers" in a friend's Easter Vigil - and I got out of it way more than I put in it.

After thinking about it for a little while, I realized, even though I was up front and involved in most parts of the service - I had very little responsibility. It was so nice just to sink into the role.

No one asking any last minute questions. No concern about what to do if so-and-so (who always comes late) was going to show up in time to fulfill his/her duty. No annoying "Pastor, Pastor, Pastor" from people who just don't understand that three minutes prior to worship is not a good time to ask questions or get into a deep dicussion.

I felt so free. Free to worship. Free from worry and from expectations.
Thanks, Sue.

Death and Taxes....New Life and Tax Accountants?

What cruel machinations
allow the most holy of holy days,
the celebration of the Risen One!
the vigil of Easter
(and the day we clean and decorate the church)
to coincide with the day of stress and scramble
that is TAX DAY?

(And why did it have to happen this first year that I'm figuring out Estimated Tax and the perks of the biz)

My aura is BLUE

Confidential to Belle: Got this from your site - As I took it I had this unreasonable fear that I was going to come out as red or something. Tehe.

Your Aura is Blue

Your Personality: Your natural warmth and intuition nurtures those around you. You are accepting and always follow your heart. You in Love: Relationships are your top priority, and this includes love. You are most happy when you are serious with someone. Your Career: You need to help others in your job to feel satistifed. You would be a great nurse, psychologist, or counselor.

What Color Is Your Aura?

Darn right, I'm changin'

"Don't ever change." Words that make me cringe. Words that I heard twice this week from people with whom I'd just challenged or disagreed with, but who said them out of respect.

I'm relatively happy with who I am. I don't anticipate any major upheaval or need for a complete makeover. Sure, I've got things about myself that bug me. I'd love to be able to have a clear head at all times (I think it's been foggy more frequently than clear in the last month). I'd love to be 5'8" and never have to worry about fly-aways. But, I'm fairly happy with who I am (and often enjoy being shorter). I can laugh at my semi-ditziness, I can pull my hair back when it bugs me. I feel good about who I am.

But, I don't want to stay the same.

What is behind these individual's saying this? Is it that they think they have me figured out? Isn't it more that they don't want their perceptions of me to change? If I showed them a different side of me (say, the whiny, needy side) would they think I have changed?

Do they expect to change? Why would they wish stagnancy on me? Why would they want my growth in faith, love, maturity, person to stop?

I know, I know. They're paying me a compliment. They are telling me that they appreciate who I am. But, a key part of who I am is the self-awareness and desire to evaluate and change. I know, they don't know me very well. And that's ok. But, I swear...I'm preaching a sermon on this someday.

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.