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.

Integrity's Downfall

I'm pretty good at faking it 'til I make it. When I took piano lessons as a youth I never practiced - I sight read at my lessons. (How much better I would have been had I practiced!) Sometimes my piano teacher caught on, but other times I was able to fool her. This ability is partly why I've survived (and dare I say - succeeded?) this year.

Integrity is important to me. I want to be true to myself and others. I want to be fully who I am - in fact that is why I sometimes think I'm not so good at telling stories. I second guess my facts out loud as I go: "I flew into Minneapolis on Sunday...or maybe it was Monday...and as I went through the metal detectors the alarm went off - because of my shoes - is it the toe or the heel? And the customs agent - or what is their title? - well, the guy there - just waved me through."

So - that's made up (I must say so that no one thinks otherwise). But, it's like I have my own conversation with myself as I go. There is something in me that says "You must get the facts straight!"

(That brings me to an aside - as an Resident Assistant (RA) in college, the staff of my dorm took the Myers-Briggs personality indicator (or whatever the correct name is) and a favorite quote of that year came as I noticed one of my colleague's results were incredibly high in each of her areas and I exclaimed "You are so much what you are!" I want to be so much what I am, I guess - whatever that is.)

So, bring that in to last night. I was invited to a "woman's dinner and conversation" by an ecumenical colleague of mine. Many, but not all, of the other women there are in some form of chaplaincy ministry. There were also others who had other passions and roles in life - but ministry talk invades a room if each person is not diligent in keeping it out. I was the youngest by far, and while I was warmly welcomed and included, I felt disconnected.

I believe there was some intentional space creating last night - so as to lead to an elevated experience. A celebration of women. A time to share in the wonder of being strong and female. And it felt FALSE.

Oh, I was able to fake it for some of the time, but I started hating myself for letting go of my integrity of sharing emotion. It would have been just plain rude if I had shared what I was thinking...but I didn't have to play along as much as I did - I could have kept silent more than I did.

When we were to go around the table sharing "how we came" I did so. When we were to go around (again) sharing what we were taking with us, I did so. I shared stories - stories that were not completely true. I even jumped in on the eye-roll worthy poem the host had us create together (and - I love poetry...so it wasn't that it was poetry - just the theme that was eye-roll worthy). I was able to play the game of that night (participating in the false atmosphere). But, I don't feel good about it.

I did have a lovely time talking to some of those women and finding out about them. I would very much enjoy further conversation with them. But, I would need to find some way of standing with my integrity of what I feel the power of women is versus what we were celebrating as the power of women. It's a generational thing, I know. I would bet that some of the other women were profoundly moved last night.

I just wished I had been more myself - rather than faking it.

Mixing it up

So far, in my 8 months on the job, I have only twice received non-emergency type phone calls at home. I take that back, I have received a couple phone calls from people I asked to call to let me know that they received my message (ie. like the person who picked up the sub sandwiches for last week's council retreat). But, up until this morning I've not had too much of an overlap of off time and work time.

I got going this morning rather early. Well, I guess that depends on your definition of "got going." My "got going" meant that by 8:30am I had already made coffee as well as a new playlist with the music on my computer. Not necessarily a high-importance "got going," but I was doing more than laying like a log in bed.

And so, by the time the first phone call came this morning - at 9:15 - I had already started some laundry, eaten breakfast, and was in the middle of the movie section of the paper. A phone call by the very excited great-grandparent of the baby to be baptized on Sunday (the baby's mother called me yesterday saying that she'd like to talk about publicly affirming her faith, ie. confirmation). So, this great-grandmother was very excited because she wants to bring flowers. Ok, we figured out who would be at church on Saturday with a key to get to the vases. Check.

Strange, I thought. But, not too strange. Just an excited great-grandmother.

So, when 5 minutes later the phone rang again, I expected another questions from the same woman. Well, the not-very-grandmotherly voice (considering it was male and much younger), asked for Pastor Amused. I though - uh-oh...someone died.

No, it turns out that I accidentally gave my home number instead of the church number to the youth mission trip organizers that may be using our church building this summer to house kids. Now, I've known that I walk the line sometimes between confusing home things and work things. I mean, how many times have I tried to open my apartment door with my church key?

But, to give out my home phone number - when I fully intended to give my church number - geez! My home number is out there - obviously. And, I would hope that people have it for those times when someone unexpectedly goes into the hospital or dies. But for paperwork crap? Not necessary.

Well, it all works out alright. Because I needed to make sure I remembered to call said mission-trip-organizer a call, I called the church to leave myself a message. And, surprisingly someone picked up. It was the woman who I was going to ask to get the flower supplies ready - and the person who I've asked to check to see if she had supplies for this Sunday's children's sermon.

So, flowers are taken care of. Message regarding hosting the church is taken care of. Children's sermon is taken care of.

For it being my day off, I've sure accomplished a lot. O well - pure frivolity (well, in the form of taxes, more laundry and the gym...but I'm seriously considering buying an I-Pod today) the rest of the day.

Mistake Magnified

I've had a good pastoral week. I led a very positive and well-received retreat today. I've got some good stuff going on tomorrow. But there is a major mistake in the bulletin and I'm frustrated by it. It's a new Hymn of Praise that the organist and I are introducing, and it is not right in the bulletin. ARRGH!

It seems that much worse because there are 125 copies of it floating around.

Shared Interest

I feel boring. I'm not bored. I just feel boring.

It feels like the interesting things that happen in my life are things that I can't talk about. And, the things that I can talk about aren't so interesting.

Some part of it is probably that lately the most interesting things have had to do with work, and even if they aren't confidential, then they certainly aren't interesting to other people.

While I'm not sure that I want too much to happen to make me interesting, I just want to be able to share what is already interesting about me - and I'm not sure how to do that.

Well, how's that for talking in circles?

Mooney

The moon is striking tonight - a gift to those who might take advantage of the unseasonably warm weather on this traditionally romantic evening. Big, full, yellow, low in the sky. It seemed like a moon from an entirely different season - like it should have been an indicator of late September or early May.

I'm intrigued by the pull of the moon. Yesterday was one of those days that all sorts of things happen out of the ordinary. Multiple incidences that required firmness and calmness. Everyone just seemed to be ancy and ready to jump out of their skins. And I don't work with nearly the population that I did at the homeless shelter!

Today, I caught it a little, quickly losing patience with people and inanimate objects alike. It was also a day to not accomplish much. Oh well - in some ways that means that when I come home with goals to do laundry and go through my papers I am ready to do it - because then I can at least accomplish something.