Insight of the day

So I'm preaching tonight, and in true procrastinator fashion, I have only just now got my outline together. That might not be so bad, except for one thing: I just figured out what the text and title would be at lunch.
Now I'm literally sitting in an MYF meeting (we're watching "Facing the Giants") and working on tonight's worship service. I settled on the story that I like to call the "rooftop friends" story from Luke 5:17-26. As Ben and I were talking about the story, I figured something out. This story is less about what Jesus did (I know, the Pharisees would beg to differ) than about the friends' radical love...they literally tore up the roof to get a friend in need past the crowds who just wanted to get close to Jesus, because Jesus had something that paralyzed man desperately needed. How many of us have friends that would go so far for us? How many of us would go so far for another? Yet I think that's precisely what we are called to do for our friends, to take the risk of looking foolish to share Christ with them. And if all our friends know Christ, I think we're called to make new friends--not to blindly proselytize, but because we know they need what Christ has, and what we have in Christ. And so we form relationships that will bring them into fellowship with us, and through us Christ, until they are ready to claim Christ as their own.

Friday Five: On Endings and Good-byes

1. Best ending of a movie/book/TV show

To Kill a Mockingbird: Atticus would be there with Jeb until the
morning. Jeb's been injured protecting his sister from an attacker; he and
Scout have confidence that, like God, Atticus would always be there for
them. It's both better and more complex than that; read the book!

2. Worst ending of a movie/book/TV show

I'm kinda with HotCup on My Best Friend's Wedding. I'd take the
redhead, and girls aren't my type!

3. Tell about a memorable goodbye you've experienced.

Several years ago I drove 5 hours one way to Charlotte airport because my best
friend had a 3 hour layover there. She was on her way from her parents'
house in TX back to Europe. Europe seemed for far away then...now we IM
all the time, and the world seems much smaller.

4. Is it true that "all good things must come to an end"?

According to Aslan, no. Instead, we are called "further up and further
in." I really don't think all good things do end, or at least not without the
promise of something better. Heck, even the last M&M in the bag is not
the last M&M ever...just an invitation to the next bag!

5. "Everything I ever let go of has claw marks on it." --Anne Lamott Discuss.

I hold onto things tooth and nail. I don't like change much, at least not
in the process of changing. After, usually I'm okay. But I think
it's fair to say that most everything I ever let go of had claw marks, too.

Bonus: "It isn't over until the fat lady sings." I've never loved this expression. So propose an alternative: "It isn't over until ____________________"

Yogi Berra, I think, said, "It ain't over 'til it's over." That's
about right for me. It's not over until God says so?

Caught up in a whirlwind

It's been one of those weeks again, with meeting after meeting, and events that don't go quite as planned, and I'm glad it's Thursday, and I can have a little time to myself.
Not to say I didn't work today, unfortunately. I went into the office, innocently planning to pick up my computer power cord (I squandered my nice full battery on games last night) and I found that the network was being worked on, and they needed my laptop to make sure everything was done correctly.
So off I go home to get the computer, and when I get back it takes a little while, and then I checked email. As I was on my way out, we got a call in the office that there had been a death. It was not unexpected, and it was not a member but one with much family at our church, and so there were calls to make and condolences to offer. I am not, however, attending tonight's Nominations Committee meeting.
Had an entertaining time at the local See You at the Pole event; it's always fun to observe the kids in that setting. You can see who's got some real confidence, who is nervous, and especially which adults can't stand a little silence. For an event meant to be youth driven, the majority of the people who offered prayer were adults, and more often than not, they were drowning out the prayer of a student. That drives me nuts!

A Fall Poetry Invitation from Abbey of the Arts

It's time for a new Poetry Party from Christine at Abbey of the Arts!
Here's my attempt at putting words to her image:




So much happens at once...
Living
Dying
Growing
Grieving

So much to learn...
Peace in the flower's slowly nodding head
Joy as leaves turn to flame and gold
Patience as earth cools and lies fallow for spring
Vision to see new life
even as summer's glory fades
into the subtler beauty of winter

The grass withers and the flower fades
but love
and joy
and beauty
abide
forever.

An interview with DogBlogger

One of my frequent reads is the blog of Cub,
"The Best Dog Ever".


While I haven't told Cletus the name of the blog, he's been jealous that some dogs have their own blogs, courtesy of their thumb-havers. This week, Cub was interviewed by Rowan, and asked for volunteers. We're it.
I'm first:

1. You're part of a clergy couple... what is your favorite thing and least favorite thing about you and your husband having the same vocation? (Yes, I know, big question coming from a dog, but I do have an intellectual side.)

I like having someone to talk to who really understands what I do all week, and why I keep such long hours, and why sometimes when the phone rings, I've just got to go. That's both my favorite and least favorite thing about being in a clergy couple, because sometimes I just want to talk about something else. As helpful as it is to have someone who knows my work/calling so well, sometimes we're at a loss for other sources of conversation. It's sort of a process; 7 1/2 years into this marriage thing (and both already pastors when we married), we're still developing habits and routines that help us both debrief and destress from our respective churches and then change the subject for some "us" time.

2. How did Cletus the WonderMutt come to live with you?

Ben (the aforementioned clergy spouse) had dogs growing up, and don't tell the spooky Boo cat, but he really missed them. I did not want to add another pet to the family (spooky Boo and Otis the beautiful, of blessed memory), but nevertheless we started making visits to the local SPCA. After several weeks of visits, Ben noticed this silly-looking dog roaming around the enclosure wagging his tail and growling at the other dogs. After a little time with him, I was hooked too. As Ben said, "We have a home and we need a dog. He is a dog and he needs a home." We did, and we do.

3. Have you ever had a blogger meetup? If yes, how was it? If no, what would you like a meetup to be like?

I have not, but I'm starting to think it could be really fun. I read several blogs written by humans as well as animals, and one day maybe a bunch of us could meet somewhere...a coffee shop next to a dog park, maybe? We could bring cat cookies, too, or my latest failed crochet project for the cats to unravel.

4. I have one costume, Ace the Bat-Hound, to go with The Alpha's Batman. The Typist says I'm not getting any more costumes. (I'm kind of relieved by that.) Have you ever dressed Cletus up in a costume? Why or why not?

Cletus has worn the occasional bandanna, which he seems to enjoy, but we've never tried any other costumes. He's really not much for wearing anything but his everyday leather collar (he's tough, you know) and his outside collar and his walking collar. He was about two when we got him, and sometimes he really doesn't like us to mess with him, especially around his head. Ben would like to put him in a Harley helmet one day, just for fun. Or an Elvis jumpsuit. I'm with the Typist...no more costumes.

5. It's getting to be the St. Francis Day time of year. Do you ever do Blessing of the Animals?

Does casting demons out of the spooky Boo cat count?
I haven't, but someday I want to. Most of the places I've lived since I've been a pastor have been in farming communities, and so we have sort of prayed at a distance for the livestock, and they did not invite the cats and dogs into their homes so much. And now I work with another pastor...I'll have to ask him what he thinks.

Now it's Cletus' turn. I'll be taking dictation:

1. "Paraclete Duke" -- how did your ever-so-stately name come to be?

Well, the thumbhavers were recently graduated from Duke Divinity School, and so they call it their "pretentious seminary joke," whatever that means. Sometimes they say my nickname is Cletus because I'm the least redneck-looking dog they know. Sometimes they say it's because I'm tough.
It's true; I am.

2. How much do you weigh? I can't tell how big you are from your picture.

Size can be deceiving; the scale at the puppy spa (you know, where I go spend the night sometimes and get treats and tummy rubs from nice people) says I weigh about 25 pounds. My thumbhavers tell me I'm a great big dog, but I can just barely fit into a lap when I want to.

3. I hear you live with a cat. I sometimes wonder how I live with The Boy, who is also a dog... cats are only long-distance blog-friends for me. How on earth do you live with a cat?

It's not easy. When I came to live with Mom and Dad (that's what I call my thumbhavers; it seems to please them), there were two cats, and it was so much fun to chase them, but it really upset Mom and Dad. Otis, the BIG cat, and I got along pretty well. We liked to sit together in the recliner with Mom. The spooky Boo cat mostly stays out of my way, but sometimes she really fusses at me when she wants to be close to Dad...she calls him Daddy. And she's loud. I don't believe she likes me, but it's been almost 7 years, and we've reached a kind of stalemate, which works for me.

4. What is one secret of a blissful life that you'd like to share with your thumb-havers?

They should play outside more. I get to spend all day almost every day outside. They should come outside and play with me more, but even if they just got out and stretched and had a good roll in the grass, I think they could be a lot happier.

5. Bandannas: yes or no? Explain your answer.

I like 'em okay, especially when I've had a bath and I'm looking good. But they get dirty awful quick when I'm hunting frogs and lizards and mice and moles and such, so I don't wear one very often.

Want to be interviewed yourself? Here's how:
1. If you are interested in being interviewed, leave a comment on my blog saying, 'interview me.'
2. I will respond by posting five questions for you. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with a post with your answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Now you're it!

Friday Five De-cluttering edition

This week's challenge from Sally:
Making the most of our resources is important, I have been challenged this week by the amount of stuff we accumulate, I'd love to live a simpler lifestyle, it would be good for me, and for the environment I think...With that in mind I bring you this Friday 5:

1. Are you a hoarder or a minimalist?

Yes. I mean to be a minimalist, anyway. But I have the de rigeur book fetish, and so I always move more boxes of books than anything else. Until I got married, it was more boxes of books than all other boxes combined. But I have my scrapbooking supplies, and my pottery collection, and my Noah's Ark collection, and my camera...

2. Name one important object ( could be an heirloom) that you will never part with.

Probably my phone. No, sometimes I'd like to pitch it out the window. I don't think I have just one thing, but excluding Ben and the critters, if I could only save one thing it would be my eyeglasses. Mundane, I know, but I can't see much of anything without them, so the computer, and the scrapbooks, and the crochet projects, and the collectibles, and the books would all be pretty much useless without them.

3. What is the oldest item in your closet? Does it still fit???

Right now I think the oldest thing is a pair of jeans...and no, they don't, they're too big! ;-)

4.Yard sales- love 'em or hate 'em ?

Hate to hold 'em, love to browse them.

5. Name a recycling habit you really want to get into.

If I didn't have a WonderMutt I'd compost & garden for sure...meanwhile, I am loving FreeCycle and Craigslist.

And for a bonus- well anything you want to add....

Did I mention the office supply fetish? I don't so much want to organize as I want to be surrounded by lovely organize-y things. I didn't mention it? Good. Forget I
asked.

The weather outside is frightful

Well, not really, but it has rained pretty much all day, which means the WonderMutt has spent all day in the shed, which means he'll want to go outside at 5 am.
On the other hand, it's cooler than it has been. Last week's rain means lots of mosquitoes, but I have hopes that sooner than not it will be truly fall (the calendar's not too reliable around here).
I love the fall.

Painful Epiphanies

As I was writing last Sunday's sermon, I was pierced by a bitter irony: we've been going about growing the evening service wrong, and I don't know how to do better.
We have a pretty stable worshiping body of about 30, which is small compared to our Sunday morning services. I would feel really great about this if the group were not all members of the church who also attend a Sunday morning service. Clearly we're meeting some need for them, and I want to continue, but I also want to recover our original aim of providing informal worship for neighbors who don't attend church and for vacationers and other transients looking for an evening service. Early in the summer, we did fairly well with "boat people," who come to town by water and dock at the town docks. But now we're down to our regulars (whom I love, and certainly don't want them to go anywhere else...come again, and bring friends!) and I'd like to try to do a good job at finding and forming relationships with those folk who are not regularly worshiping with us.
I just don't know how, not really. So far the best idea I've come up with has been twofold: hang out in the local coffee shops, get to know people and then invite them, and create a coffeehouse atmosphere where we are: coffee, flavored syrups, steamed milk...
I can also (and will) ask the "young adults" in the church what would make the service more attractive to them: do we need to change the time, change the format, advertise in some particular way or place?
I'm frustrated and hopeful; I told my senior pastor today that when we evaluate the service in 5 months, I want to at least be able to say that we've done the very best we could do. And I think we have as far as the service itself goes. But preaching Sunday reminded me that we're here waiting for people to come to us...and I don't think that's going to work. Because it's not about growing a service or having great attendance, but about helping people be in relationship with Christ and the church...

The Company We Keep

Luke 15:1-10

Now all the tax-collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, ‘This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.’So he told them this parable: ‘Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it? When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbours, saying to them, “Rejoice with me, for I have found mysheep that was lost.” Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous people who need no repentance.

‘Or what woman having ten silver coins, if she loses one of them, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it? When she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbours, saying, “Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.” Just so, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.’

One of the skills I admired most in my grandmother (besides her ability to grow a good tomato, of course), was her ability to tell us exactly how to feel in any situation. Dry pot roast? She’d ask, “Doesn’t that taste good?” and there was no way to say anything but yes. Mushy green beans? She’s say, “I think these are the best we’ve had this year, don’t you?” I’ll give you three guesses as to what our answer was. Pick out the wrong clothes for church and she’d say, “Don’t you want to wear the other one?” Again, there was nothing for it but to go change.
Now, she had quite the reputation in town, too. The UMW at her church, of which she was a leader for years, ran a thrift shop called The Mustard Seed, and I spent many summer afternoons poking through the books on the shelves and listening to her say, “I think it would be much better if we did this, don’t you?” And poor Grandaddy. She’d say, “Gene, don’t you want to do this?” and heaven help him if he didn’t. So at least I knew that no one was immune to her. She was a good Southern woman, and she knew how to get people to do what she wanted, all in the way she asked the questions.
Jesus was a master at asking some of those questions that, like my grandmother’s, leave you nowhere to go. In today’s reading, he’s responding to criticism from the scribes and Pharisees (the establishment) about the company he keeps.
This criticism is something Jesus heard fairly frequently: he spends time with tax collectors and sinners! He can’t be righteous, he certainly can’t be ritually pure, there’s no way he can be the Messiah, if he spends so much time with those who violate the law. And they had a point: we are known by the company we keep, as any parent of a teenager has had to explain more than once. If we spend time with folks whose habits or behaviors don’t reflect our values, we are likely to be changed by them. The scribes and Pharisees were doing the best they could to be sure that God’s laws were enforced, that God’s will was respected. All they knew was that there was a way to make sure that they were obeying God…and spending time with lawbreakers was not it. They had a very narrow understanding of how to please God by playing by the rules—all of the rules, and so their question was simple: isn’t there anyone outside God’s mercy? And the answer they wanted was pretty clear: they wanted to hear, “yes.”
Jesus, on the other hand, rarely made things that simple. Instead of turning to the grumblers and berating them for grousing, instead of calling down lightning from heaven to smite them (I’ve got to say that if I had that power, I’d have used it), Jesus starts telling stories again. First he tells about a shepherd, a lost sheep, and the 99 sheep the shepherd leaves behind to find the one. Then he talks about a widow who puts her whole day on hold to find one lost coin…and the parties they both throw when their lost item is found. “Which one of you,” Jesus said, “would not search for their lost sheep or coin?” Watch out now, it’s a trick question. What Jesus is really asking here is this: Is there anyone outside God’s mercy?
Is there anyone outside God’s mercy? Is there anyone God does not love? Is there anyone God does not care for? Is there anyone God would turn his back on, walk away from, reject outright? The answer Jesus wants to hear, the only answer, the ones the scribes and Pharisees and often you and I have a problem wrapping our minds around, the truth with a capital T is: No.
No, there’s no one whom God does not love. There’s no one whom God abandons. There’s no one who cannot be a part of God’s family, and by extension, the church. No, there is no one outside God’s mercy. We can wander off and not realize we’re lost (like the sheep), we can run away from home and be really about as ugly as we can manage (the prodigal son did that, remember?), we can be within inches of God’s grace and just not see it (sounds a bit like the scribes and Pharisees to me) and God’s love, grace, and mercy are still there for us.
Now, we know that these stories are parables, which means that they have many layers of meaning. Here’s one of those layers: 100 sheep is a nice round number. 10 coins, or the paycheck for 2 weeks work, is a nice round number. They feel complete…so when even a small part of that number, as little as 1 sheep from 100 is not where it’s expected to be, then our nice round number is no longer round. It’s not complete. It feels like we’re the ones who are missing something: missing a coin, missing a sheep, missing someone who ought to be here and isn’t.
Our wholeness as a church is connected to who is here, who is a part of us. And we’re not all here until we’re all here, if you take my meaning. Ann Street Church is incomplete, without the presence of those who are in our community, separated from church and God, and maybe don’t even know they’re missing. We aren’t complete, aren’t whole, until we have sought out every one who could and would be a part of us…and so we can’t relax, can’t feel that our mission is done, can’t simply concentrate on the things that build us up (although we must not neglect them, either). And given that new people are born every day, it sounds like this may be a never-ending task.
But isn’t that how the shepherd and the widow search for their lost sheep and coin? They represent God here in these two stories. So when do they quit searching? When they get tired? When the sun goes down? When they begin to sweat, or get hungry or thirsty? There is no point in these two stories where they give up on finding their lost ones…no time when the shepherd says, “Hey, it makes no sense at all for me to abandon 99 sheep in the field to chase down one little stray. There could be lions and bears about. I’m going home.” The widow does not eventually lay down her broom and say, “Oh well, it will turn up eventually. Time to fix supper.” And this is God’s response to his human creations: when we get lost or separated, whether we know it or not, God is constantly, tirelessly searching us out. And calls us to do the same: to seek out with diligence and gentleness those whom we are missing…the lost ones from our churches and lives and faith.
Now, here’s the disclaimer: Do not chase anyone into the church with a broom. Do not go out into the street, grab some poor tourist, and physically haul them into church with you. These are not good ways to help people come to understand that God’s kingdom is not complete without them, and they are not complete without God. Ann Street Church will not be held liable for your overzealousness! It is possible to take things too far! And no stealing sheep from other churches; I don’t know what the penalty for sheep-rustling is with God, but I suspect it’s pretty steep.
What this all means for us, though, is that there will never be a time when we can quit being in ministry to our community. We are not allowed to get comfortable and say, “Well, you know, everyone has the opportunity to come to our church. We worship 3 times on Sundays, 4 if you count communion. They know where we are…we’ll welcome them when they get here.” How will people find us if they don’t even know they are lost, if they don’t know what they are missing out on, if they don’t know that we are no more complete without them than they are without us?
Remember that Jesus is talking to the scribes and Pharisees here. He’s eaten with Pharisees and told them some hard words about parties: whoever exalts themselves will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted. Jesus has been careful to say that there is no one who does not need to repent, to re-think their thoughts and actions, and struggle again to live in the image of God. This is no easy road we’re on together, friends: one of Jesus’ key criticisms of the Pharisees and scribes was that they were so tied into the law of God that they failed to see and sense the love of God. And that love of God means that God always seeks us out, even when we think we’re getting it all right, even when we don’t know that we’ve wandered astray a little bit. It also means that there’s really no such thing as 99 righteous who do not need repentance…they are just as lost as the one. So when Jesus said, “Ninety-nine righteous people who need no repentance,” I suspect that he had a little gleam in his eye and a little bite in his tone.
So if we are not entirely complete unless we’re in fellowship with God and one another, and we’re all in need of repentance, then I guess we’re all a little bit lost. We all need to be looked for, and to be looking for others to join us in this family of God.
Doesn’t this kind of make sense of the parties? When you have found something precious that was lost, when we together make one whole and holy family of God, when as the result of diligent searching and love, someone becomes a part of us, isn’t that worth a party? Shouldn’t that be cause for celebration? Luke tells us that this is the party: there will be more joy in heaven over the sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous people who need no repentance.
The company Jesus kept was indeed sinners and tax collectors, fishermen and ordinary folk…ordinary like you and me. And if our attitudes and behavior are changed by the company we keep, then I want to keep company with the One who loves us enough to search endlessly, who waits for us through all our roaming and repenting, who knows we’re lost before we do and always wants to bring us safely home, to make us whole, and help us be holy.

No, I don't really feel this way

about writing sermons. At least, not much. And not often.

But my process is a lot about procrastination and small distractions and allowing ideas to marinate over the course of the week, and then I expect some major revelation on Saturday, and sometimes it's easy and sometimes it's not.

Did I mention tomorrow I preach 3 times and also lead MYF?

So here's the picture of the day, from our friends at despair.com. I like them. They have a wicked sense of humor.

Puppy School

We've been talking kind of idly about going back to obedience classes with the WonderMutt. He is a good dog, generally, but I have this fantasy that one day we'll be outside, and I'll call his name, and he'll actually come to me. And he needs to learn some leash manners again...Ben doesn't walk him because the WonderMutt pulls him off balance. He's pretty tough for a smallish sort of dog.
So today we had our first class. Cletus is around 8 (hard to tell; he's a shelter rescue), so we're anxious to know if he will learn any new tricks. Pretty curious to know if we will, either. It actually went fairly well; he's easy to please, particularly when he knows I've got a treat in my hand. But Ben had some trouble with him.
So we'll have to see about how this goes. I'm hanging on to my dream of being able to let him off the leash every now and again (he even ran away at puppy school the first time, which we took as a sign). That will be a trick for a later class: 4 weeks of basic obedience probably won't work any miracles.

Friday Five: Meeting Edition

Friday Five: Meetings, Meetings


In honor of a couple of marathon meetings I attended this week:

1. What's your view of meetings? Choose one or more, or make up your own:
a) When they're good, they're good. I love the feeling of people working well together on a common goal.
b) I don't seek them out, but I recognize them as a necessary part of life.
c) The only good meeting is a canceled meeting.

It really depends on the meeting: I guess I average out at 'b', but I have been in some really great ones, and then in some really excruciatingly bad ones too. Generally, when we're willing to be productive and no one's pushing their separate agenda too forcefully, meetings can be really good. But when we're too distracted by our own issues, they can just be mind numbingly terrible.

2. Do you like some amount of community building or conversation, or are you all business?

I do like some; in our large church, meetings serve a dual function: business and fellowship. But we usually try to get started on time and then reserve much of the chitchat for the after-meeting. That way everyone gets what they want.

3. How do you feel about leading meetings? Share any particular strengths or weaknesses you have in this area.

I don't enjoy it, and when I'm running the show, I tend to be very task-oriented. I am chairing a district committee this year, and I was so focused on the first meeting that I failed to pray, which is sort of embarrassing. Oh well.

4. Have you ever participated in a virtual meeting? (conference call, IM, chat, etc.) What do you think of this format?

I have; I'm taking a class online that has a weekly session online. The only problem is that since the system can't handle audio from all of us, then we're basically IMing all over each other. It's a little hard to keep the train of thought going.

5. Share a story of a memorable meeting you attended.

In my first appointment, it took a while for me to learn that the "real" meetings took place after the scheduled meeting, out in front of the church under an old tree. Decisions were overturned, money was spent, and plans were made apart from the recognized structure.
The most memorable meeting, though, was a couple of years ago when the pastor-parish relations committee wanted to create a fuss. I think the chair wanted me to move, but he didn't have any real reasons (except my essential girlness). Well, it came to pass that Ben was looking to move, and so the DS and I sat down with the committee. As the chair opened the meeting and began to say his piece, the DS interrupted, saying that I had an announcement that perhaps should come at the top of the agenda. When I said that, regretfully (of course), I would be asking to move to stay near Ben, the chair was so upset at being stripped of his moment that he exploded, "How long have you known this?" at the DS. Needless to say, it was a short meeting, and the DS and I left pretty pleased with ourselves.

Poetry Party

Decided to give it a shot, anyhow.
Here's the deal: Christine at Abbey of the Arts offers an image, and the chance to put words to it...

Just enough chaos, inviting, calls me...
Naptime comes too seldom.
Constrained by other's expectations
(and hospital corners)
I long for my own rumpled bed.

Shorter must be better today...or else I'm just too tired.
I liked the last one pretty well, too.

Too many hours...

I have worked way too much already this week. I've had two consecutive 13+ hour days. I'm trying to catch up some from being out last week, and I hadn't realized how stressful it would be starting all this stuff for fall.
Here's what I've added to my schedule this week:
1: Checking up on Dad, who has managed to hurt his back.
2: My Tuesday am Bible study has started.
3: Our Tuesday meals have started. We alternate having supper and lunch, with a program that may or may not be spiritual in nature.
4: We've restarted Chapel talks with the preschool twice a week.
5: The weekly chats for my DMin program have started.
6: Our LOGOS program has started, with a great first day.
7: The more "intensive" prep for charge conference has begun, with Nominations meeting this week.
8: Our local "ecumenical" group moved this week. It's strange how a new facility changes the dynamics.
9: I've just figured out that Sunday I preach 3 times and I'm responsible for MYF.
The sick thing is that I love it. I love my work. I love the busy-ness. I love the people. But I'm tired. And there was another poetry challenge that I'm missing because I just don't have time today.

Glutton for punishment

I've started a new blog.
Yes, another one.
This one is Any Way You Slice It, and may turn out to be a project for my posstmodern ecclesiology class.
Don't I already have enough to do? I'm still catching up from last week, LOGOS and Bible study and the Tuesday fellowship events start this week, I need to edit the church website, I'm preaching 3 times on Sunday, and here I am starting a new blog.
Oh well. Maybe it will at least have the decency to get updated every now and then, unlike the other one.

Jumping back in with both feet

Drove home today for hours and hours. Did 3 visits in 2 different regional hospitals, talked to DS, ate supper with Ben, still have not been home. But I'll get there. Just talked to some poor soul from the church who somehow missed the announcement about Bobbi. She asked how she was doing...hard to answer. And I handled it really badly, or at least clumsily.
So there's no real mess to clean up from the storm, or at least there won't be until my freshly bathed WonderMutt is ready for bed. The yard was flooded yesterday; there is an old streambed across the back and the ditch across the front stays wet because of a water main leak that the city has been promising to fix for months. That and 7 inches of rain in about 3 hours adds up to some minor flooding in any big storm.
Tomorrow is my first "synchronous chat": where my DMin group will all be online together with the professor. I'm looking forward to it, although this week has been so hectic that I haven't really done the reading. If I ever get off the computer, I will though. I was reading the discussion board and found a conversation about how we isolate ourselves from physical contact with people in favor of internet/texting, etc. Kind of like blogging, I guess. Anyway, I stumbled on something good in my response:

I think we're made for that kind of contact...having flesh and bone people around us. I am concerned that the detachment involved in these internet relationships leads to a kind of false intimacy that results in our losing our sense of self. It reminds me of one of those old tired stories that go around about the little girl who was afraid of the dark. Her mother reminded her that Jesus is always with her, so when she felt afraid, she could remember that Jesus was right there beside her. Her response: "Yes, but I like Jesus with the skin on."

There's something affirming about having someone with skin on to reflect grace, mercy, comfort to us when we need it...or just to help us back up when we've fallen down the stairs. Perhaps that's an important role for the church: to help people form relationships with one another in person...incarnate...

When it rains it pours

Ben's mom is in the hospital.
The funeral's this afternoon.
There's a tropical storm headed to my house.

Call me sick...I think that last one's kinda fun...but I still have to send Ben home early so he can work.

Stepmom update

Bobbi died yesterday morning early. I'll be with my father for the rest of the week and so won't be posting much. Will try to make the Friday Five, because the routine is comforting.
If you're praying folk, pray for Dad. He's feeling a little lost. That will change as the family horde descends, but they'll leave, and he'll still be here.

A greeting and a small regret

Thanks to all the folks who have stopped by from RevGalBlogPals! I enjoy blogging for its own sake, but it's still nice to know someone's readng it from time to time, and thanks for the affirming words.
By way of regretting, I wish I were having a better week. Seeing so many drop by this little place of mine sort of feels like having company, and I'm not feeling terribly hospitable. I spent Sunday and Monday with my father and stepmother, who is failing fast...clearly hypoxic, gray around the mouth, barely able to tell us when she wants something, and rarely able to swallow medicine. The hospice nurse said this weekend that she'd be surprised if Bobbi made it through the week, and frankly death will come as a welcome guest at the end of her illness.
There have been occasional grace-notes; I heard her say, "I love you" to my father, and she was able to recognize her (favorite) grandson and have a little time with him. But the general trend is down, and it seems to be accelerating. It's so hard to watch my father; the gift of not being lucid seems to be that Bobbi's not often aware of how sick she is, and so doesn't seem to be suffering too badly--but Dad's another matter. He's tired, and he's nearly sick with worry and grief, and so desperately living for the precious moments when she's able to communicate a little more clearly.
And to complicate things for me, I'm pretty sure Bobbi's not a Christian, and I know Dad isn't. That grieves me for them both, because while I believe that in God's infinite grace, there can be peace and rest for Bobbi, I don't believe that Dad thinks any such thing. And now is not the time for me to make an issue of it...but I hate that I at least have a sense of peace and grace and God's love that Dad doesn't. Right now I'm counting on God's prevenient grace reaching out to Dad with love and comfort, even if he isn't aware of it. And counting on God to give me the words to say to Dad, as I try to support him in all this.
So anyway, thanks for visiting, and come back soon...

Maybe not my turn yet?

In all my whining about being stressed, I'm aware that I've got things pretty good. We have a home and work that is stable and satisfying; we have family that's mostly in good health. We are able to do pretty much what we like: no impulsive trips or major purchases, but a little planning gets us pretty far.
My stepmother is dying, but Dad seems to be hanging in there pretty good.
Ben's mom is doing better in her new independent living apartment; she even seems to have a boyfriend.
Is it family drama? Sure it is, but it's not too much to handle (this week).
In talking with a friend this weekend whose dealing with his own family drama, we observed that the family drama we're coping with is not our drama. It's all at a remove: my husband's mother, my father's wife. It's mine, too, because I love my father and my husband, and care for Ben's mom and Bobbi...but I'm very aware that the intense worry and grief is theirs and not mine.
So is it just not my turn yet? That was my answer to my friend: maybe it's just not our turn. Maybe the next drama will be ours, and won't that be miserable? But I kind of hope not. I think I'm good enough at what I do for right now, and appreciated for what I do, and I know that I am happier at what I do more where I am now than I have been in any previous appointment. Can it be that I am feeling content where I am? That I have for a time that elusive "peace that passes understanding"?
I don't know. I tend to enjoy a little bit of drama...keeps the blood (or maybe just the blood pressure) pumping. But right now I have enough stress for myself: dealing with the new meds and eating habits, starting this DMin, LOGOS starting at church and all the stuff that was on break for the fall kicking into high gear. Have I just shut myself down, so that I don't take on more than I could handle? And if I have, is that a sign of maturity (knowing my limits, something I've never been good at before) or is it a kind of emotional distancing that is keeping me from caring for the ones I love as they struggle?
I don't think it is; at the risk of being self-serving or arrogant, I suspect that I am truly for the moment living with a measure of grace that's not mine. I don't do a lot of God-talk here; it's hard to do it well, and it's important to me that I do God justice. But tonight I think it's fair: I think I'm living on grace and peace that do not originate with me, but are a gift from God.
I preach that our lives as Christians are meant to be lived in relationship with God and one another, that we cannot be our best Christian selves in a vacuum. One of the reasons I give is that sometimes we go through these faith-shattering events: the death of a spouse or a parent's illness, the devastating disappointment we can only feel in the failure of one we have loved, bad news from a physician or employer or friend. And when we go through these things, we sometimes count on our Christian family to have faith for us, until we're ready to pick it up again. Sometimes the interval is minutes or hours, sometimes it's days or years...but that's a part of what we can share with one another in Christ: a love that sustains us when it seems like the world is in pieces.
What I'm wondering, in my little arrogant and needy heart, is if perhaps this is a time when I am the one who can hold things together, who can offer some support to Dad and Ben, for the time being, to offer that sustaining grace and peace and love of Christ. Until it's my turn to need someone else to hold it together so I can be supported.
I suspect it won't be long, but I'm grateful for this time, when I feel like I've got my feet under me...and I thank God for it.