Today one of my best friends is being ordained as a Minister of Word and Sacrament. Finally. Leaving my congregation to be there in person was not possible, but I am in Michigan with her today in spirit as she takes the vows that make her officially what she has seemed to me to be for a long time: a colleague in this shared ministry. I rejoice as her gifts and calling are formally recognized, and so I've decided to share online some of what I would say in person if I could.
As a friend, she has contributed to my life in ways it would be impossible to fully express. Over mugs of coffee and steins of beer we have hashed out the issues and events of life I never really expected to be able to discuss with anyone. She's sat wordless with my pain, expanded my tentative wonderings into genuine hopes and goals, and celebrated with my joys. Hers is the voice that most often shows up to remind me to choose integrity over conformity. She taught me to knit and appreciate cats and embrace creation and continually grow a little closer to knowing how to really be a friend.
Being a friend - even a really great friend - obviously doesn't go far when it comes to being ordained. But the things involved in being a friend are also a big part of being a minister: listening thoughtfully, thinking carefully and creatively, and seeing God's presence in the often-ignored parts of life are all things my friend does especially well. Her passion for the poor, oppressed, and forgotten brings good news to unlikely people in unexpected ways. Her respect for and trust in God's calling has enabled her to persevere when it must have seemed that no one would ever recognize that her unique gifts were not only legitimate but necessary for the RCA - and for the Church.
I don't know whether others will ever fully realize or acknowledge what vital work she does simply by being who she is and pressing on in her calling. But today, she will make and receive the promises of ordination. A group of her new peers will lay hands on her and give thanks for her and for God's gifts in and through her life, and pray for the fruitful and powerful ministry that lies ahead. I only wish I could be there to join them in that. Fortunately, prayer is not limited by location, nor is joy and thanksgiving. My prayers and rejoicing go where I cannot.
Congratulations and blessings, and all the shalom of God, Reverend PJ!
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Saturday, January 28, 2006
I Whine
I feel whiny.
Last night, I was supposed to go out to sing karaoke with some new acquaintances in the area. However, they never called, and I ended up sitting at home, thinking it was probably a sign that I should get some work done, but being entirely too gripey and irked to do much more than put together a list of church announcements and glare at sermon-helper websites.
Today, in a fit of inspiration, I finished my sermon around 4:00 pm - wonder of all wonders! So I had this brilliant idea that I would call someone up and see if she wanted to go to a hockey game with me. Which she did. Hoorah! So I got ready, and then I checked out the website to see how much the tickets would be, and happened to come across the game time. 5:00 pm. Time then displayed by the clock? 4:52 pm. The arena is nearly an hour away. Blast it all.
I now realize that one reason I generally put off sermon-writing until Saturday afternoon and evening is to avoid what I am currently doing: sitting around my house, alone, with nothing to do, pre-sermon adrenaline knot in the pit of my stomach, feeling whiny, but with no one to listen to my whining and no distraction from the knot. At least when there is writing to be done, I can direct that adrenaline into something useful.
For future reference, that is a MUCH better excuse than simple procrastination.
Last night, I was supposed to go out to sing karaoke with some new acquaintances in the area. However, they never called, and I ended up sitting at home, thinking it was probably a sign that I should get some work done, but being entirely too gripey and irked to do much more than put together a list of church announcements and glare at sermon-helper websites.
Today, in a fit of inspiration, I finished my sermon around 4:00 pm - wonder of all wonders! So I had this brilliant idea that I would call someone up and see if she wanted to go to a hockey game with me. Which she did. Hoorah! So I got ready, and then I checked out the website to see how much the tickets would be, and happened to come across the game time. 5:00 pm. Time then displayed by the clock? 4:52 pm. The arena is nearly an hour away. Blast it all.
I now realize that one reason I generally put off sermon-writing until Saturday afternoon and evening is to avoid what I am currently doing: sitting around my house, alone, with nothing to do, pre-sermon adrenaline knot in the pit of my stomach, feeling whiny, but with no one to listen to my whining and no distraction from the knot. At least when there is writing to be done, I can direct that adrenaline into something useful.
For future reference, that is a MUCH better excuse than simple procrastination.
Friday, January 27, 2006
Words on a Page
I have a minor obsession with books. Some obsess me more than others, of course, and some obsess me more than I expect (even I could not have predicted that 3:00 AM would have found me hopelessly absorbed in Paul Feyerabend's "Against Method"). The size of my library is...large enough to cause some guilt feelings regarding my materialism, but not large enough to satisfy my desire to own all the books I love, let alone to have every book I might want available for instant reference.
This morning, in a caffeine-fueled state of semi-awakeness (late night mentioned above, plus morning meeting, equals constant medicinal flow of coffee), it occurred to me that I should blog about books. Lo, the RevGals Friday meme is about - drum roll - books! This is truly providential, and no good Calvinist can ever resist the pull of providence. It's irresistable. Like grace.
1. If you received books as holiday presents, how many and what were they?
Sadly, I received no books as gifts. This is a direct result of owning more books than anyone who gives me gifts, as they inevitably feel that I will surely already have any book that might seem appropriate.
2. Did you buy any for yourself, and if so what are the titles?
Why yes, in fact, I did. Hoorah for gifts in the form of cash which can be used to purchase books! I bought three fantasy novels by Robin Hobb, a beginner's knitting guide, "Karl Barth in the Theology of Dietrich Bonhoeffer" by Andreas Pangritz, and a used copy of a Plato anthology.
3. Have you read any of them yet? What’s next on your list?
I'm finishing the second of the Hobb novels, and have read parts of the Barth/Bonhoeffer and Plato books. Next on my list...? Well, currently I'm also reading "The Cost of Discipleship" by Bonhoeffer, the aforementioned Feyerabend, "Critique of Pure Reason" by Immanuel Kant, and...some other stuff. I've decided I should finish these before even thinking about what's next.
4. Do you have a favorite place to read a new book? And does the weather have an impact on that choice?
Different books have different locations. "Serious" books are usually read in the big red chair. "Pastoral" books are carried around in my bag and read in lines, on public transportation, and while waiting in general. Fiction is read in bed. But at present the books are travelling to wherever I happen to be when I'm in the mood to read them. Weather is not a factor.
5. Does reading in bed make you sleepy?
No, reading in bed passes the time until I'm sleepy. Or, on occasion, prevents me from getting sleepy.
This morning, in a caffeine-fueled state of semi-awakeness (late night mentioned above, plus morning meeting, equals constant medicinal flow of coffee), it occurred to me that I should blog about books. Lo, the RevGals Friday meme is about - drum roll - books! This is truly providential, and no good Calvinist can ever resist the pull of providence. It's irresistable. Like grace.
1. If you received books as holiday presents, how many and what were they?
Sadly, I received no books as gifts. This is a direct result of owning more books than anyone who gives me gifts, as they inevitably feel that I will surely already have any book that might seem appropriate.
2. Did you buy any for yourself, and if so what are the titles?
Why yes, in fact, I did. Hoorah for gifts in the form of cash which can be used to purchase books! I bought three fantasy novels by Robin Hobb, a beginner's knitting guide, "Karl Barth in the Theology of Dietrich Bonhoeffer" by Andreas Pangritz, and a used copy of a Plato anthology.
3. Have you read any of them yet? What’s next on your list?
I'm finishing the second of the Hobb novels, and have read parts of the Barth/Bonhoeffer and Plato books. Next on my list...? Well, currently I'm also reading "The Cost of Discipleship" by Bonhoeffer, the aforementioned Feyerabend, "Critique of Pure Reason" by Immanuel Kant, and...some other stuff. I've decided I should finish these before even thinking about what's next.
4. Do you have a favorite place to read a new book? And does the weather have an impact on that choice?
Different books have different locations. "Serious" books are usually read in the big red chair. "Pastoral" books are carried around in my bag and read in lines, on public transportation, and while waiting in general. Fiction is read in bed. But at present the books are travelling to wherever I happen to be when I'm in the mood to read them. Weather is not a factor.
5. Does reading in bed make you sleepy?
No, reading in bed passes the time until I'm sleepy. Or, on occasion, prevents me from getting sleepy.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Christian Music and Concepts of God
Katherine recently posted about her mixed feelings about Christian music. As someone who shares those mixed feelings, I appreciated her post and have been thinking about my utter abhorrance of CCM and "Christian" radio stations, but also about the fact that some of my favorite bands and songs are also defined as "Christian," although of the independent stripe.
Then, today, I was talking to a friend about images of God. One of my strongest concepts of God resonates with a song I used to sing for gigs and such from time to time. The song is entitled "And," and it is by a band called Waterdeep. Some of the imagery now strikes me as a little more masculine than I would like, but nonetheless it has been one of my favorite songs for a very long time, and thus I share the lyrics with you now.
I am haunted by my love for comparison,
my fascination with a single common theme,
and I am hounded by the fear that I might be losing it,
slipping from reality into a dream.
And when my mind is muddled by the way it seems to work,
I start looking for just one connecting force;
Someone to assure me that we didn't lose the war today,
and that the battle's general's still riding on his horse.
In the morning when I come, I often come to you in dreams,
little bits of power I can't comprehend.
And sometimes I can keep my eyes unclosed for long enough
to feel the blowing of the distant, steady wind.
And the distance doesn't take too long for you to cover it,
and when you reach me you just blow these things apart.
You kill the crowd that's gathered round the crisis of my soul
and whisper to my suffocating heart:
And is the juice and the joints and the motions of life,
And is the love that is between God and his beautiful wife,
And has two hands and two feet and a long, lovely side,
And rose three days after he was crucified.
So you're the force of gravity that I feel pulling at my feet,
you're the fuel at the center of the sun.
And it's your ghost that fills the atmosphere with what we need to breathe;
everything I've ever wondered, you're the one.
Well, both my hands are stained with blood, both my lips are stained with tears,
from when I kissed the widow of the man I killed.
Yet you're asking me to swallow your forgiveness here today.
You say the bond required for my pardon's been fulfilled.
And is the juice and the joints and the motions of life,
And is the love that is between God and his beautiful wife,
And has two hands and two feet and a long, lovely side,
And rose three days after he was crucified.
Then, today, I was talking to a friend about images of God. One of my strongest concepts of God resonates with a song I used to sing for gigs and such from time to time. The song is entitled "And," and it is by a band called Waterdeep. Some of the imagery now strikes me as a little more masculine than I would like, but nonetheless it has been one of my favorite songs for a very long time, and thus I share the lyrics with you now.
I am haunted by my love for comparison,
my fascination with a single common theme,
and I am hounded by the fear that I might be losing it,
slipping from reality into a dream.
And when my mind is muddled by the way it seems to work,
I start looking for just one connecting force;
Someone to assure me that we didn't lose the war today,
and that the battle's general's still riding on his horse.
In the morning when I come, I often come to you in dreams,
little bits of power I can't comprehend.
And sometimes I can keep my eyes unclosed for long enough
to feel the blowing of the distant, steady wind.
And the distance doesn't take too long for you to cover it,
and when you reach me you just blow these things apart.
You kill the crowd that's gathered round the crisis of my soul
and whisper to my suffocating heart:
And is the juice and the joints and the motions of life,
And is the love that is between God and his beautiful wife,
And has two hands and two feet and a long, lovely side,
And rose three days after he was crucified.
So you're the force of gravity that I feel pulling at my feet,
you're the fuel at the center of the sun.
And it's your ghost that fills the atmosphere with what we need to breathe;
everything I've ever wondered, you're the one.
Well, both my hands are stained with blood, both my lips are stained with tears,
from when I kissed the widow of the man I killed.
Yet you're asking me to swallow your forgiveness here today.
You say the bond required for my pardon's been fulfilled.
And is the juice and the joints and the motions of life,
And is the love that is between God and his beautiful wife,
And has two hands and two feet and a long, lovely side,
And rose three days after he was crucified.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Odd Things Seen and Heard
A young woman stands in front of the mirror in a public restroom, spending several minutes arranging every single hair into perfect order. She then pulls a stocking cap over her head, followed by the hood of her sweatshirt, so that perhaps one strand of her coif is visible, and leaves with a smile.
A man closes his book and gets off of the subway. One stop later, he reboards the same subway car, opens the book, and goes back to reading.
Three twenty-somethings board a train, one of them carrying a 12-pack of Bud Light. Assuming themselves adequately hidden by the high-backed seats, they proceed to loudly discuss a series of experiences with a variety of illegal substances. Forty-five minutes later, they stumble onto the station platform, leaving behind the cardboard case and a row of six empty beer cans on each of the arms of their seat.
A middle-aged woman wearing an immaculate gray business suit and clunky, bright red sneakers sits alone in the train station, head cocked to one side, listening to the piped-in Muzak. The singer repeats over and over, "I love you, I hate you..." The woman laughs to herself and says to no one in particular, "This guy would be worth a good $700 in counseling fees just for an initial consultation."
A man closes his book and gets off of the subway. One stop later, he reboards the same subway car, opens the book, and goes back to reading.
Three twenty-somethings board a train, one of them carrying a 12-pack of Bud Light. Assuming themselves adequately hidden by the high-backed seats, they proceed to loudly discuss a series of experiences with a variety of illegal substances. Forty-five minutes later, they stumble onto the station platform, leaving behind the cardboard case and a row of six empty beer cans on each of the arms of their seat.
A middle-aged woman wearing an immaculate gray business suit and clunky, bright red sneakers sits alone in the train station, head cocked to one side, listening to the piped-in Muzak. The singer repeats over and over, "I love you, I hate you..." The woman laughs to herself and says to no one in particular, "This guy would be worth a good $700 in counseling fees just for an initial consultation."
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Monday, January 16, 2006
Table for One
"Just me. Table for one, please."
One of the perks of being a pastor here was a Christmas gift certificate from the local funeral home. So, tonight I took myself out for dinner, alone. I know there are people who would have gone with me if I had asked. But sometimes I just like to go out to eat alone. So I did.
I have to admit, I experience a weird sort of pleasure watching the hostess do a little double-take as she makes sure I've really just asked for a table for one. I smile when I catch the sympathetic eyes of a woman at a nearby table, who turns to one of her companions and says, "I think she's alone...How sad! Should we invite her to join us?" Yes, at first I'm irritated, but I notice that she's at the head of a table of five, sandwiched between two obvious couples. No ring. I raise my glass a little before I take a sip of the wine, and that's when I smile.
I want to enjoy myself, so I have a couple of rules when I eat in a restaurant alone (yes, I'm the sort of person who is happiest with some predetermined standards, preferably when I've set them myself). I order wine, and a real dinner, something on which I can really dine, not gulp down and dash out the door. I don't bring things to do, no matter how much that corner of my brain screams that I should be reading or making sermon notes or at least hiding in my dayplanner. I make myself sit, breathe, sip the wine, and eat slowly, and relax into the experience of a good meal. The restaurant is nice, in the mold of small-town high class dining; the lights are mood-lighting low, classy brass lamps sit in the centers of the tables, and the menu demonstrates outside influences, but the water arrives in a Budweiser glass and the real silverware lies on paper napkins and placemats. The hostess who seated me is now eating at the next table with her three kids.
It's a gift certificate, so I allow myself to have a gift as a meal: filet mignon with mushrooms. Another glass of wine. I consider dessert, but realize that I've responded to my lack of lunch by eating entirely too much. The waitress wraps the remaining third of the huge filet, and sated and generally pleased, I drive away.
A celebration of Martin Luther King, Jr. day is being reported on NPR. The commentator talks about MLK living with fear that his extramarital affairs would become public and the civil rights movement would be discredited; about his worry that he would be assassinated before the work was done. "I have seen the promised land!" shouts the familiar voice that was gone from this world before I was born. "I may not make it with you, but our people will reach the promised land! I'm not worried, for mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord!" He doesn't sound fearful. I get weepy. Maybe it's the wine.
At home, I make the mistake of leaving my purse - with the to-go box in it - lying on the floor while I go to the bathroom. When I return, Laila has managed to open the box and consume a third of a pound of filet mignon. She doesn't even look guilty. She looks...well, a bit like I did after I ate the first two-thirds of it. I try to lay on the "bad dog" talk, but I'm entirely too satisfied to be angry. A good steak with great red wine at a table for one and a benediction from an imperfect but powerful voice from the past may not seem like a vision of the promised land, but tonight, this simple pleasure reminded me that I have seen bigger and better things. Tonight, the daily grind does not worry me, and the idea that I may not see things become what I want them to be does not worry me. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.
One of the perks of being a pastor here was a Christmas gift certificate from the local funeral home. So, tonight I took myself out for dinner, alone. I know there are people who would have gone with me if I had asked. But sometimes I just like to go out to eat alone. So I did.
I have to admit, I experience a weird sort of pleasure watching the hostess do a little double-take as she makes sure I've really just asked for a table for one. I smile when I catch the sympathetic eyes of a woman at a nearby table, who turns to one of her companions and says, "I think she's alone...How sad! Should we invite her to join us?" Yes, at first I'm irritated, but I notice that she's at the head of a table of five, sandwiched between two obvious couples. No ring. I raise my glass a little before I take a sip of the wine, and that's when I smile.
I want to enjoy myself, so I have a couple of rules when I eat in a restaurant alone (yes, I'm the sort of person who is happiest with some predetermined standards, preferably when I've set them myself). I order wine, and a real dinner, something on which I can really dine, not gulp down and dash out the door. I don't bring things to do, no matter how much that corner of my brain screams that I should be reading or making sermon notes or at least hiding in my dayplanner. I make myself sit, breathe, sip the wine, and eat slowly, and relax into the experience of a good meal. The restaurant is nice, in the mold of small-town high class dining; the lights are mood-lighting low, classy brass lamps sit in the centers of the tables, and the menu demonstrates outside influences, but the water arrives in a Budweiser glass and the real silverware lies on paper napkins and placemats. The hostess who seated me is now eating at the next table with her three kids.
It's a gift certificate, so I allow myself to have a gift as a meal: filet mignon with mushrooms. Another glass of wine. I consider dessert, but realize that I've responded to my lack of lunch by eating entirely too much. The waitress wraps the remaining third of the huge filet, and sated and generally pleased, I drive away.
A celebration of Martin Luther King, Jr. day is being reported on NPR. The commentator talks about MLK living with fear that his extramarital affairs would become public and the civil rights movement would be discredited; about his worry that he would be assassinated before the work was done. "I have seen the promised land!" shouts the familiar voice that was gone from this world before I was born. "I may not make it with you, but our people will reach the promised land! I'm not worried, for mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord!" He doesn't sound fearful. I get weepy. Maybe it's the wine.
At home, I make the mistake of leaving my purse - with the to-go box in it - lying on the floor while I go to the bathroom. When I return, Laila has managed to open the box and consume a third of a pound of filet mignon. She doesn't even look guilty. She looks...well, a bit like I did after I ate the first two-thirds of it. I try to lay on the "bad dog" talk, but I'm entirely too satisfied to be angry. A good steak with great red wine at a table for one and a benediction from an imperfect but powerful voice from the past may not seem like a vision of the promised land, but tonight, this simple pleasure reminded me that I have seen bigger and better things. Tonight, the daily grind does not worry me, and the idea that I may not see things become what I want them to be does not worry me. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Sunday Only-Enough-Energy-to-Meme Blogging
As a RevGal, I am considering myself tagged by Katherine at Any Day a Beautiful Change.
Four Jobs I've Had in My Life
(A note...I realize as I consider this question that I have had a lot of jobs, so I'm listing ones that most of you probably don't know about)
1. Cleaning the meat room at a grocery store (I was fourteen, and getting myself in the queue for the cashier job for which I was not yet old enough).
2. Guiding horse-back trail rides.
3. Customer service for a real estate title company.
4. Compiling scholars' comments and critiques on the NRSV.
Four Movies I Could Watch Over and Over, and Have
(another one with multiple possibilities...)
1. The Quiet Man
2. Keeping the Faith
3. Love Actually
4. True Grit
Four Places I Have Lived
(and another...)
1. Des Moines, Iowa
2. Holland, Michigan
3. Venice, Florida
4. Pequot Lakes, Minnesota
Four TV Shows I Love To Watch
1. Sex and the City
2. Queer as Folk
3. 24
4. Nip/Tuck
Four Places I Have Been On Vacation
(I could answer four places I have been on vacation within the last two weeks, but I won't. I wish I had a more exciting list, but most of my actual vacations have been spent visiting family and friends. The exciting places I have been have been mostly not for vacations.)
1. Southern California
2. Chicago
3. Colorado Springs
4. North Dakota and Montana
Four Websites I Visit Daily
1. Real Live Preacher
2. Waiter Rant
3. Real Live Pirate
4. an RCA webgroup
Four Favorite Foods
1. Chocolate
2. Sushi
3. Shrimp in almost any form
4. Chicken Vindaloo of the particularly hot variety
Four Places I Would Rather Be Right Now
1. Anywhere warm. The weather here has returned to its expected but annoying cold and snowy state.
2. At a bookstore, preferably one that also has coffee and wireless internet.
3. Listening to Modest Mouse in person rather than on CD.
4. Having a massage.
Four People Who I Tag Next
Oh, argh, I hate tagging people. If you're reading this, you may consider yourself tagged, and respond or not as you wish. If you respond, please leave a comment so I can check out your answers!
Four Jobs I've Had in My Life
(A note...I realize as I consider this question that I have had a lot of jobs, so I'm listing ones that most of you probably don't know about)
1. Cleaning the meat room at a grocery store (I was fourteen, and getting myself in the queue for the cashier job for which I was not yet old enough).
2. Guiding horse-back trail rides.
3. Customer service for a real estate title company.
4. Compiling scholars' comments and critiques on the NRSV.
Four Movies I Could Watch Over and Over, and Have
(another one with multiple possibilities...)
1. The Quiet Man
2. Keeping the Faith
3. Love Actually
4. True Grit
Four Places I Have Lived
(and another...)
1. Des Moines, Iowa
2. Holland, Michigan
3. Venice, Florida
4. Pequot Lakes, Minnesota
Four TV Shows I Love To Watch
1. Sex and the City
2. Queer as Folk
3. 24
4. Nip/Tuck
Four Places I Have Been On Vacation
(I could answer four places I have been on vacation within the last two weeks, but I won't. I wish I had a more exciting list, but most of my actual vacations have been spent visiting family and friends. The exciting places I have been have been mostly not for vacations.)
1. Southern California
2. Chicago
3. Colorado Springs
4. North Dakota and Montana
Four Websites I Visit Daily
1. Real Live Preacher
2. Waiter Rant
3. Real Live Pirate
4. an RCA webgroup
Four Favorite Foods
1. Chocolate
2. Sushi
3. Shrimp in almost any form
4. Chicken Vindaloo of the particularly hot variety
Four Places I Would Rather Be Right Now
1. Anywhere warm. The weather here has returned to its expected but annoying cold and snowy state.
2. At a bookstore, preferably one that also has coffee and wireless internet.
3. Listening to Modest Mouse in person rather than on CD.
4. Having a massage.
Four People Who I Tag Next
Oh, argh, I hate tagging people. If you're reading this, you may consider yourself tagged, and respond or not as you wish. If you respond, please leave a comment so I can check out your answers!
Saturday, January 14, 2006
The Real Sign of My Return
O Saturday, how I love thee.
I am in my usual Saturday position, physically and mentally. Hey, if anything is going to make me feel like I'm really back from vacation, it is a heaping dose of the pastor's Saturday. I'm sitting cross-legged in my big red chair, laptop balanced on one knee, other laptop sitting on the ottoman (I haven't managed to move everything from the old laptop to the new, so having both handy is a necessity), along with The Cost of Discipleship, a prayer book, slippers, and a chewed-up rawhide. The Bible rests open on one arm of the chair, a commentary on the other, a half-full can of Diet Mountain Dew and a half-full cup of coffee (Saturdays require both hot and cold forms of caffeine), and various remote controls take up the little table beside me.
Half of what I can only hope is a potentially great sermon glows out at me from the computer screen. I can't help myself from thinking that it has equal potential to bomb and make everyone wonder whether I am really using my gifts properly within the Body (as that is the topic of the sermon - not me specifically, but you get the idea). Shut up, stupid self-defeating internal commentary. You do not contribute to me living a life worthy of the calling to which I have been called (my text this week is Ephesians 4:1-16).
I had a dream this week that I showed up for church on Sunday without a single thing done. I arrived and suddenly realized that I had no bulletin, no sermon, none of the things that signal readiness for a worship service. And yet, the service went on as scheduled, worship happened, and a sermon was preached (yes, by me). I simply moved forward and did what needed to be done with what I had, and everything turned out just fine.
This was not a good dream. It was a panicky, desperate dream, and I'm certainly not going to try it out in waking life to see if it works out so smoothly. But as Saturday goes forward with all of its urgency and uncertainty, the dream is the image with which I push out the voice of doom in my head. Go away, paralyzing doubts. Be gone, sneering contempt. I will move forward and leave you behind, and do what needs to be done with what I have. And everything will turn out just fine, if not better.
I am in my usual Saturday position, physically and mentally. Hey, if anything is going to make me feel like I'm really back from vacation, it is a heaping dose of the pastor's Saturday. I'm sitting cross-legged in my big red chair, laptop balanced on one knee, other laptop sitting on the ottoman (I haven't managed to move everything from the old laptop to the new, so having both handy is a necessity), along with The Cost of Discipleship, a prayer book, slippers, and a chewed-up rawhide. The Bible rests open on one arm of the chair, a commentary on the other, a half-full can of Diet Mountain Dew and a half-full cup of coffee (Saturdays require both hot and cold forms of caffeine), and various remote controls take up the little table beside me.
Half of what I can only hope is a potentially great sermon glows out at me from the computer screen. I can't help myself from thinking that it has equal potential to bomb and make everyone wonder whether I am really using my gifts properly within the Body (as that is the topic of the sermon - not me specifically, but you get the idea). Shut up, stupid self-defeating internal commentary. You do not contribute to me living a life worthy of the calling to which I have been called (my text this week is Ephesians 4:1-16).
I had a dream this week that I showed up for church on Sunday without a single thing done. I arrived and suddenly realized that I had no bulletin, no sermon, none of the things that signal readiness for a worship service. And yet, the service went on as scheduled, worship happened, and a sermon was preached (yes, by me). I simply moved forward and did what needed to be done with what I had, and everything turned out just fine.
This was not a good dream. It was a panicky, desperate dream, and I'm certainly not going to try it out in waking life to see if it works out so smoothly. But as Saturday goes forward with all of its urgency and uncertainty, the dream is the image with which I push out the voice of doom in my head. Go away, paralyzing doubts. Be gone, sneering contempt. I will move forward and leave you behind, and do what needs to be done with what I have. And everything will turn out just fine, if not better.
Thursday, January 12, 2006
I'm baa-aack!
As some of you may already have surmised, I have returned from the Stacey and Laila Conquer the Midwest Roadtrip Adventure. It took me a couple of days to get back here because I am still recovering from vacation inertia and also because I have a lot of catching up to do around here! A brief record of my last two weeks:
3,000+ miles
2 countries (U.S. and a brief sojourn through Canada)
9 states (New York, Michigan, Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Kentucky, Ohio, Pennsylvania)
7 sleeping places
2 kennels/canine hotels (oops, that's Laila, not me)
8 live musical acts
1 new skill (knitting...in so far as what I do can be called knitting. I have now created what might pass for a scarf.)
1 new-to-me computer, on which I am currently typing. Hoorah, and thanks to tglaser!
Lots of family, lots of friends, entirely too much fast food, several funny stories from the oldest of my nieces (she's 4). Hey, I should share one of those.
So, niece and I are in the car, listening to the radio (a country station insisted upon by the niece, who is obsessed with new country), and a song called "Alcohol" begins to play.
Niece: My daddy likes this song. I don't know why. None of the rest of us like this song. But he doesn't drink alcohol. Just beer. No, not beer. He only drinks Coors Light.
(I am thinking, "I beg to differ...I have drank alcohol with your daddy on multiple occasions. And he never drinks Coors Light, so I'm not even sure where you learned that it exists..." but I'm not going to dispute a 4 yr. old, so I just keep listening...)
Niece: My daddy used to drink beer, but he doesn't anymore. I'm allergic to peaches.
(Uh...where did that come from?? Keep listening...)
Niece: When I was in my mommy's tummy, my daddy had beer, and it had peaches in it, and he puked, and I heard it, and I didn't like it. So I'm allergic to peaches.
Me: Ah, I see! (Ok, peaches in beer would make me puke too...and I'm glad her allergies are so easily explainable! Oh, to be 4...)
3,000+ miles
2 countries (U.S. and a brief sojourn through Canada)
9 states (New York, Michigan, Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Kentucky, Ohio, Pennsylvania)
7 sleeping places
2 kennels/canine hotels (oops, that's Laila, not me)
8 live musical acts
1 new skill (knitting...in so far as what I do can be called knitting. I have now created what might pass for a scarf.)
1 new-to-me computer, on which I am currently typing. Hoorah, and thanks to tglaser!
Lots of family, lots of friends, entirely too much fast food, several funny stories from the oldest of my nieces (she's 4). Hey, I should share one of those.
So, niece and I are in the car, listening to the radio (a country station insisted upon by the niece, who is obsessed with new country), and a song called "Alcohol" begins to play.
Niece: My daddy likes this song. I don't know why. None of the rest of us like this song. But he doesn't drink alcohol. Just beer. No, not beer. He only drinks Coors Light.
(I am thinking, "I beg to differ...I have drank alcohol with your daddy on multiple occasions. And he never drinks Coors Light, so I'm not even sure where you learned that it exists..." but I'm not going to dispute a 4 yr. old, so I just keep listening...)
Niece: My daddy used to drink beer, but he doesn't anymore. I'm allergic to peaches.
(Uh...where did that come from?? Keep listening...)
Niece: When I was in my mommy's tummy, my daddy had beer, and it had peaches in it, and he puked, and I heard it, and I didn't like it. So I'm allergic to peaches.
Me: Ah, I see! (Ok, peaches in beer would make me puke too...and I'm glad her allergies are so easily explainable! Oh, to be 4...)
Sunday, January 01, 2006
Road Trip Pet Peeves
Happy New Year, all! I'm halfway through vacation and currently at my most distant destination, so I thought I'd drop by and give an update. These are a few of my least favorite things about the Stacey and Laila Conquer the Midwest Roadtrip Adventure:
1. People who live in cold climates but forget how to drive in snow and decide that a few flakes are reason to drive 10 mph on the interstate.
2. People who are unaware that the left lane is for passing and insist on driving 10 mph in the left lane - next to another car putzing along at an equal rate.
3. Law enforcement officials who think it's acceptable to drive 20-30 mph over the speed limit without their lights flashing. You have lights so that if you need to go somewhere quickly, people can get out of your way. If your lights aren't on, it's not any safer for you to drive that fast than it is for us.
4. Endless fast food and holiday fare is starting to make me feel like a greasy blob. Also, the new pants I bought because all my clothes were too big are now getting a bit tight.
5. Lack of communication. Mostly this is my own fault, as I tend to travel with little advance planning for where I will be or when.
6. Relegating Laila to a kennel because my parents' apartment does not allow dogs. Sad Laila. Also sad Stacey, as I think of the silent treatment I will receive from her for the next week or two.
1. People who live in cold climates but forget how to drive in snow and decide that a few flakes are reason to drive 10 mph on the interstate.
2. People who are unaware that the left lane is for passing and insist on driving 10 mph in the left lane - next to another car putzing along at an equal rate.
3. Law enforcement officials who think it's acceptable to drive 20-30 mph over the speed limit without their lights flashing. You have lights so that if you need to go somewhere quickly, people can get out of your way. If your lights aren't on, it's not any safer for you to drive that fast than it is for us.
4. Endless fast food and holiday fare is starting to make me feel like a greasy blob. Also, the new pants I bought because all my clothes were too big are now getting a bit tight.
5. Lack of communication. Mostly this is my own fault, as I tend to travel with little advance planning for where I will be or when.
6. Relegating Laila to a kennel because my parents' apartment does not allow dogs. Sad Laila. Also sad Stacey, as I think of the silent treatment I will receive from her for the next week or two.
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