This week's blog carnival topic is about surprises. I kind of love them, so that's great.
What's the most surprising connection you've made through RevGalBlogPals? Or the most surprising or helpful thing you've learned/experienced through this galship of friends?
Ooh! Well, I don't know if this is surprising or not, but it makes me happy to think about. When I was in Egypt, I was reading all kinds of RevGal blogs to stay sane. RevGal Jan, a reader of my blog (and I of hers), invited me to preach in her church upon my return. So when I got home, I trundled off to Washington DC for World Communion Sunday (one of my faves) to preach. She put me up in the home of a church member who was exceedingly lovely and who was in the midst of the adoption process. She was adopting a little girl from China, and her house was full of pandas. Coincidentally (and I'm not sure Jan knew this), I LOVE PANDAS. It was a great weekend in which I was afraid of the pulpit (which, in my defense, was about a thousand feet above the rest of the chancel), I ate delicious food, and I made new friends. Fast forward through five years of blog reading and occasional conference-catch-ups, and Jan moves to Chicago to become the Interim Associate Executive Presbyter for Ministry. Yes, that is the longest title ever. Not long after she moved here, I made it my mission to ensure that she experienced one of the best things summer in the city has to offer: The Taste of Chicago. Last summer we met by the lions and proceeded to eat our way through Grant Park for hours, talking and laughing and having a great time. And now, a year later, I've moved into her Presbytery and she's a fabulous colleague, a help in every trouble. (well, okay, she's not God. but she is delightful.)
It never really crossed my mind that it was weird to meet a friend through blogging and then fly across the country to hang out with them. Last summer I met up with friends in Scotland--friends I'd only met through RevGals, but now was able to see in person. We spent whole days together, driving all over the place and having a grand old time. Every time I do something like that, afterward I register a little bit of surprise at how the world has changed, that we can do this writing-and-reading thing and have it turn out to be as real as a face to face friendship. And it is thoroughly real.
So there you have it--from Egypt to DC to Chicago to Scotland and back again, in one fell blog-swoop! Along the way, I've met so many wonderful friends, both in person and online. I've learned a ton about ministry, about myself, about the church and the world. I can't even measure the impact RevGals on my ministry and sanity. Between conversations on the back deck, countless Ask The Matriarch columns that just seem to appear when I need them, support through the swirling vortex of despair, late night sermon writing companionship, and bunches of other ups and downs, I've been surprised, taught, heard, and supported. Now I'm a RevGal evangelist--whenever I'm at a conference or event, I'm always asking women if they know about us and inviting them to join in. Sometimes I get "Oh, I know you!" and sometimes I get "I'm so glad to hear something like this exists!" And then occasionally I still get "do you know Cheesehead? Or St. Casserole? Or Songbird? or MomPriest? or the Vicar of Hogsmeade?" and I have the pleasure of saying: I do, and they are every bit as lovely in person as you can imagine.
Thanks, Pals!
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Tuesday, July 02, 2013
A Carnival of Galship
(not just galship on Carnival, though we do that too!)
This month the RevGals are hosting a Blog Carnival--they announce a topic and we write posts about it, and link them all together like a virtual fair we can stroll, full of rides and food and games. Good times.
I joined the RevGalBlogPals when I was still a potential Rev. I left for Egypt just as the webring was being formed, and I joined about 2 months after the official organizing happened. I joined the board several years later, and am still serving. I've found friends and colleagues without parallel and I'm so grateful for them, so I'm excited to be part of the carnival!
This week's topic is about galship--what is it and how do we experience it, what does it mean to us?
First a tiny definition: galship is like fellowship (a good churchy word), but among, well, RevGals. :-)
For me, galship means always having someone to email/fb/skype/text/have coffee with--someone who gets it. Being a pastor is hard. Being a female pastor is hard. Being a young single female pastor is hard. Having other clergywomen and supportive people around is like having a huge net to catch me when I fall, or to cheer me on when I'm not falling yet, to celebrate when things are good and to ask hard questions in the midst of the hugs when things are not so good. The RevGalBlogPals have held me up through a year in Egypt, through the grief journey of losing my mom, through my first call, into my second call, through all kinds of adventures, learnings, hopes, dreams, and failures.
Galship is an online thing and an in-person thing. It's lunch in the LG with a lovely RGBP friend. It's book group, which is almost all RevGals or BlogPals. It's the website where we encourage each other through Saturday sermon writing, book reviews, community building, prayer, and so much more. It's a midwinter cruise when we can laugh and cry together in person. It's a day spent touring medieval ruins, an afternoon tour of a museum, an evening of cocktails, a place to stay, a roommate for a trip--all with people I'd never met in person until that moment but whom I knew as friends. It's on my own blog, via email, and on Facebook, and on Twitter, and all kinds of unexpected places too.
So often in churches "fellowship" is used to describe coffee hour. It's the time when we stand around with snacks and make smalltalk. Sometimes we say "fellowship" and actually mean building community--something deep and lasting, that pushes past the easy answers or trite cliches and opens us to real relationship. Galship can be, and has been, at both ends of that spectrum for me. The difference is that it's with people who all get it. Not that we don't have personality differences or conflict--just that we all understand a little something of one another without having to first lay out the groundwork that yes, women can be pastors, and no we're not all submitting to our husbands and teaching the girls sunday school class--we're real live pastors. I promise. (and we're all on board, so we don't have to explain that every time! yay!)
So what does galship mean to me? Light in the chaos, hope in the hard moments. It means life in all its fullness, not just the narrow vision I might experience but in all its glory and all its despair, together, always together. I don't know how I would do this life without these friends!
Where do you get that galship? (Or guyship!)
This month the RevGals are hosting a Blog Carnival--they announce a topic and we write posts about it, and link them all together like a virtual fair we can stroll, full of rides and food and games. Good times.
I joined the RevGalBlogPals when I was still a potential Rev. I left for Egypt just as the webring was being formed, and I joined about 2 months after the official organizing happened. I joined the board several years later, and am still serving. I've found friends and colleagues without parallel and I'm so grateful for them, so I'm excited to be part of the carnival!
First a tiny definition: galship is like fellowship (a good churchy word), but among, well, RevGals. :-)
For me, galship means always having someone to email/fb/skype/text/have coffee with--someone who gets it. Being a pastor is hard. Being a female pastor is hard. Being a young single female pastor is hard. Having other clergywomen and supportive people around is like having a huge net to catch me when I fall, or to cheer me on when I'm not falling yet, to celebrate when things are good and to ask hard questions in the midst of the hugs when things are not so good. The RevGalBlogPals have held me up through a year in Egypt, through the grief journey of losing my mom, through my first call, into my second call, through all kinds of adventures, learnings, hopes, dreams, and failures.
Galship is an online thing and an in-person thing. It's lunch in the LG with a lovely RGBP friend. It's book group, which is almost all RevGals or BlogPals. It's the website where we encourage each other through Saturday sermon writing, book reviews, community building, prayer, and so much more. It's a midwinter cruise when we can laugh and cry together in person. It's a day spent touring medieval ruins, an afternoon tour of a museum, an evening of cocktails, a place to stay, a roommate for a trip--all with people I'd never met in person until that moment but whom I knew as friends. It's on my own blog, via email, and on Facebook, and on Twitter, and all kinds of unexpected places too.
So often in churches "fellowship" is used to describe coffee hour. It's the time when we stand around with snacks and make smalltalk. Sometimes we say "fellowship" and actually mean building community--something deep and lasting, that pushes past the easy answers or trite cliches and opens us to real relationship. Galship can be, and has been, at both ends of that spectrum for me. The difference is that it's with people who all get it. Not that we don't have personality differences or conflict--just that we all understand a little something of one another without having to first lay out the groundwork that yes, women can be pastors, and no we're not all submitting to our husbands and teaching the girls sunday school class--we're real live pastors. I promise. (and we're all on board, so we don't have to explain that every time! yay!)
So what does galship mean to me? Light in the chaos, hope in the hard moments. It means life in all its fullness, not just the narrow vision I might experience but in all its glory and all its despair, together, always together. I don't know how I would do this life without these friends!
Where do you get that galship? (Or guyship!)
Thursday, April 04, 2013
a train adventure!
This weekend I'm taking a real-live Ticket to Ride adventure, hopping on an Amtrak train to St. Louis for the wedding of a dear friend. I'm excited about the opportunity to spend that 6 hours reading or napping rather than driving and desperately trying to stay awake. I'm also excited that the cost of a round trip train ticket is awfully close to the cost of one tank of gas (and I'd surely need a few to get there and back, even in my awesomely fuel-efficient car).
So, anyway, I'm away on a train adventure. I hope it's as exciting as the game! Though I also hope I win (aka get there safely and in a timely manner) more often than I win at Ticket To Ride. So far I'm 0-5 on TTR, while my lovely friend Laura complains through the whole game about how terrible her hand is but she wins basically every time, by double digits. I'm hoping that this particular train adventure will not be the cause of any whining, by me or by others. :-)
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
rejoice
It's a little weird to see the word "rejoice" come up before Easter, but there you go. Here at the beginning of Holy Week, what causes you to rejoice?
My church and I have been making lists of things we're grateful for--every day last week, and some of us have continued the practice this week. That's a reason to rejoice, but one that's hard to capture in a photo!
I was tidying up my house a little because tomorrow morning my Domestic Goddess (who is a SERIOUS reason to rejoice!) will arrive very early to clean up after my craziness. I turned around and spied these alabaster beauties on the shelf, and remembered a beautiful day spent with wonderful people. We rejoiced greatly that day, and I rejoice remembering them. (if this was facebook, I would tag them...instead, you'll just have to know who you are, Karla/David/kids/Jennifer/Sarah!)
These also remind me to hold my Egyptian friends in prayer--they could use some rejoicing, some of the new life Easter promises, some of the beauty held in this bowl.
My church and I have been making lists of things we're grateful for--every day last week, and some of us have continued the practice this week. That's a reason to rejoice, but one that's hard to capture in a photo!
I was tidying up my house a little because tomorrow morning my Domestic Goddess (who is a SERIOUS reason to rejoice!) will arrive very early to clean up after my craziness. I turned around and spied these alabaster beauties on the shelf, and remembered a beautiful day spent with wonderful people. We rejoiced greatly that day, and I rejoice remembering them. (if this was facebook, I would tag them...instead, you'll just have to know who you are, Karla/David/kids/Jennifer/Sarah!)
These also remind me to hold my Egyptian friends in prayer--they could use some rejoicing, some of the new life Easter promises, some of the beauty held in this bowl.
day 35 of Lent photo a day
Thursday, March 21, 2013
friendship
I use the word "friends" a lot. I think it's because I'm secretly a Quaker in my inward heart.
(that's right, I secretly covet the hour of silence, or near-silence, listening together for the movement of the Spirit...along with all the justice and peace stuff, the spiritual life, and the cool history.)
Anyway, most of my emails begin with "hello friends," I often call meetings or gatherings to order with "good morning/evening friends," and I preface parts of the liturgy (especially around the confession) with "friends."
I was doing this before Facebook, just so you know. Now "friending" or "defriending" is a normal thing, and we say we have 600 friends even if we may not ever speak to them face to face.
Anyway, I've been thinking today about the word "friend" because, well, it was in the news.
When I call someone a "friend" (and what I think the word really means), it implies that we have some level of mutual relationship. We support each other in good times and bad. We look out for one another. We've got each other's backs. We're ready to call the ex-boyfriend names, cry and eat ice cream. We're prepared to support in various efforts at different kinds of discipline (weight-loss, Lent practices, becoming better people, etc). We're there to answer the phone, to laugh or gently rib, to send photos and eat fondue and who knows what else.
But that mutual relationship also involves a really important component: friends challenge each other. We don't just let the other person devolve into destructive behavior without calling it out. We don't sit by while they do something dangerous. We don't watch while they hurt themselves or others. We don't let bad behavior slide just because we're friends. Real friends are able to say what they think (speaking the truth in love, anyone?), knowing that we'll still be friends afterward. We don't just support blindly, we challenge each other to be our best selves.
When we are afraid to speak up about something a friend does with which we disagree, or about bad behavior we witness, then that's not really a friendship. It's not mutual. It's a shallow relationship based on making each other feel good without much basis in reality--the reality that all human beings are flawed, and sometimes we need accountability.
Accountability may not be popular, but we need it anyway. I need it, you need it, whole nations need it...and that's what friends are for.
(that's right, I secretly covet the hour of silence, or near-silence, listening together for the movement of the Spirit...along with all the justice and peace stuff, the spiritual life, and the cool history.)
Anyway, most of my emails begin with "hello friends," I often call meetings or gatherings to order with "good morning/evening friends," and I preface parts of the liturgy (especially around the confession) with "friends."
I was doing this before Facebook, just so you know. Now "friending" or "defriending" is a normal thing, and we say we have 600 friends even if we may not ever speak to them face to face.
Anyway, I've been thinking today about the word "friend" because, well, it was in the news.
But that mutual relationship also involves a really important component: friends challenge each other. We don't just let the other person devolve into destructive behavior without calling it out. We don't sit by while they do something dangerous. We don't watch while they hurt themselves or others. We don't let bad behavior slide just because we're friends. Real friends are able to say what they think (speaking the truth in love, anyone?), knowing that we'll still be friends afterward. We don't just support blindly, we challenge each other to be our best selves.
When we are afraid to speak up about something a friend does with which we disagree, or about bad behavior we witness, then that's not really a friendship. It's not mutual. It's a shallow relationship based on making each other feel good without much basis in reality--the reality that all human beings are flawed, and sometimes we need accountability.
Accountability may not be popular, but we need it anyway. I need it, you need it, whole nations need it...and that's what friends are for.
Saturday, March 09, 2013
find
I was making soup tonight, and I couldn't find any rosemary. Now, the recipe didn't exactly call for rosemary, but when has a recipe ever constrained me?
As you can see, things are pretty easy to find in my spice cabinet. they're in alphabetical order, for goodness' sake. But I couldn't find rosemary anywhere.
Which could mean only one thing: I must have run out. How this is possible, I don't know. I stay pretty on top of the herb situation.
So of course I posted on facebook "how is it possible that I have run out of rosemary?"
a few minutes later I went back and this is what I found (the top window the part of the conversation that didn't fit on the screen) :
My friends are awesome. I may not find rosemary, but I did find a laugh.
Day 21 of Lent photo a day (apparently today was 2-photos-a-day!)
As you can see, things are pretty easy to find in my spice cabinet. they're in alphabetical order, for goodness' sake. But I couldn't find rosemary anywhere.
So of course I posted on facebook "how is it possible that I have run out of rosemary?"
a few minutes later I went back and this is what I found (the top window the part of the conversation that didn't fit on the screen) :
My friends are awesome. I may not find rosemary, but I did find a laugh.
Day 21 of Lent photo a day (apparently today was 2-photos-a-day!)
Wednesday, January 05, 2011
friend
I have some amazing friends--people who have walked with me on the journey of life and faith, people who listen well, people who tell amazing stories, people who know how to share laughter, people who have challenged and supported and generally been fantastic.
Among these friends:
Rachel (my best friend from high school), with whom I shared the excitement of the Running Start program, where we went to college during high school, and who has been an important partner in my seeking and discovering both faith and ways to do good in the world...who recently got married in a fantastic (if I do say so myself) ceremony in Seattle. (why yes, I did do the ceremony! and I did refrain from using my impromptu "sermon" in the ceremony to tell Alan, her new husband, how funny I think it is that one of the things Rachel keeps saying is that she likes to hang out with him, in spite of the fact that Rachel is the only person I know who has ever declared a moratorium on "hanging out." (scroll down to January 13) LOL.)
Amy (my best friend...we met in seminary), who I didn't like at first and who didn't like me! Amy has been with me through so much...seminary, relationships, good choices and mistakes, adventures and explorations (which is NOT the same thing as being lost!), travels, hopes and dreams both fulfilled and dashed. We may live hundreds of miles apart, but still our friendship grows thanks to cell phones and airplanes.
Elsa (a fantastic friend I met through the young clergy women project), who opened her heart and her home when I so needed both of those things. Elsa also knows how to challenge and support simultaneously, which is a little ridiculously impressive. She calls me on my crap, listens when I spout my neurotic issues, and knows how to use twitter and text messaging to great effect. I particularly appreciate the way she is compassionate and loving and blunt all at the same time. And, of course, the parts of our journey that we share in common make her a wonderful sounding board and comforter when I'm particularly neurotic about health issues or grief stuff.
The PFC girls--my McHenry County friends, amazing women who play and laugh and cry and are generally wonderful. They are fun to hang out with, good friends and wonderful people. Their compassion, willing spirits, and great laughs make my life here very good.
Among these PFC girls is one who is moving away. I know from experience (obviously) that it is more than possible to maintain and even grow friendships without living near each other. But it's still hard--to know that the days of random dinner parties or late-night tv watching or shouting at Mario Kart or spur-of-the-moment hot cocoa with bailey's nights are coming to an end, to know that when I forget something I can't just call this friend to help, to realize how much that friendship has come to mean and to contemplate the ways it will change now that we have to drive 4 hours to visit in person. We'll still be friends, and we'll still be close I'm sure, but it will be different. So I think I'll take this moment to just say thanks: Thanks for being my friend, for keeping me sane, for listening and talking and watching The Doctor and talking about Buffy and commiserating sometimes and doing rituals and making up youth group games. You're awesome. I'll miss you.
As is probably obvious from my list of good friends, I'm not used to being one who stays behind. I've almost always been the one who moved away. It's a weird feeling, but I suppose it's part of being a grown up and part of living in a culture where people move for economic and family and other kinds of opportunity. I understand it, but I don't have to like it (lol).
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
traveling
I used to make a list when I traveled--everything I needed to pack went on the list, and I carefully ensured that everything on the list went in the bag.
Now I just toss things in and hope I remember everything I need...and assume that if I forgot something, I can probably get it or else it's just not that essential.
Tomorrow's trip involves packing both a bridesmaid dress and a preaching robe. And, presumably, some clothes for the other two days of the trip. And a computer. And wedding-appropriate shoes. And possibly a raincoat (Seattle's looking....wet.). I'm not certain yet whether I'll take the list or the hope-for-the-best approach, since I don't leave for another 12 hours and 36 minutes. I do know that I'm hoping to fit everything into carry-on luggage (yes, everything including some Christmas gifts that need to travel that direction anyway!). At $20 each way for a checked bag, it's just not so practical. Then again, I don't know how practical it is to try to fit a dress and a preaching robe and some christmas presents and clothes all into carry-on/personal-item sized bags either.
In any case...I'm leaving on a jet plane in the morning so I can be a part of Rachel's wedding. I'll also see some family while I'm there. And, in theory, I'll be back in time for youth group Sunday night.
Dear weather: please cooperate. Love Teri.
Thursday, November 04, 2010
going visiting
I'm trying to visit more RevGal blogs more regularly--it's such a wonderful community and I want to be sure others feel that community too, and besides that...I like to know things. That's right, I'm curious and inquisitive and I hate to miss stuff.
So...I've been visiting down the list (we don't have a ring anymore because ringsurf had become a nightmare in more ways than one). I'm trying to read one letter (or sometimes two) per day...so I'm through D right now. It occurred to me that I should perhaps post links to blogs that I find particularly interesting along the way...sort of like the old-fashioned round-up, only more subjective and, frankly, slower since there are so many blogs in the ring now!
So, in no particular order, here are a few of the blogs that caught my eye, or my imagination, or my prayers, in the A-D:
Ciona is in Malawi and is blogging about her adventures, complete with photos!
Karla caught my eye by blogging about sitting around doing nothing on her day off (which is one of the things I also like to do sometimes), and today she has some beautiful and prayer-provoking poetry up.
JJ has been practicing my other favorite thing to do on my day off: get out of town and do something fun...elsewhere!
MperiodPress is having adventures in Italy and in bridges (both physical and metaphorical). I love Rome, so I was excited to read her accounts of the city and her experiences both with the city/culture and with her group and the language and other difficulties.
Kirstin has had some good news and some disappointment, and needs prayers and support and help from people who might be nearby. Warning to people sensitive to cancer issues: Kirstin has cancer and is currently in treatment, and if reading about that is going to be difficult, please just pray for her.
Silent is doing the post-every-day-in-November blogging challenge. I always look forward to the tidbits about BabyGirl and their transition to a new home.
Katherine has posted some adorable Halloween pictures of Juliette, the cutest chicken on the block!
What (or who) have you been reading?
Sunday, February 28, 2010
asking for help
Yesterday I was sick. Very sick. Something I ate at the lock-in didn't really work for me and my body...umm...rejected it. strongly.
I felt icky and I was shaky and weak and dizzy and cold and dehydrated (and apparently very pale).
BUT: I had a lock-in to finish and a mission project to lead, so I had to stick around another 4 hours.
Enter two people who came to my rescue and allowed me to supervise from the couch, because they did all the real work...in essence doing my job for me, empowering youth and supervising painting and moving stuff and directing/correcting/helping. They did this in essence without being asked--they sort of looked at me and decided to stick around to help. They are amazing!
Then enter two more people, people I called for help. I don't know that I've really called for help, at least like this, in a long time. All you mom-types out there will be glad to know that instead of just wishing for my mom but doing everything for myself (even if whining about it), I actually picked up the phone. What with the shaky/dizzy/inability-to-keep-my-eyes open thing, I figured driving home was a bad plan. So I called someone to drive me home and bring my car home too....and they did! While I was waiting for them to get there, I actually laid on the floor of my office and cried. Normally tears come with the throwing up, but this time they accompanied my breaking down enough to ask for help--and having that asking answered.
I got home safely (after the first words out of my knight in shining armor's mouth were "you look terrible!") and proceeded to sleep for almost 18 hours (in 3 hour segments, in between which I updated my facebook status, tried to drink water, and realized that I still couldn't hold my eyes open more than a few seconds at a time). That's right--I was in my bed from noon until 6.15am. crazy.
today I'm better.
Thanks to you people who helped me when I needed it--I appreciate you.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
birthday dots
* I love birthdays.
* Today I got to have Thai food AND Mexican food, plus an ice cream/fried banana birthday treat at the Thai place AND homemade cupcakes brought by my small group to the Mexican place.
* I actually do in fact serve the single best church that ever was. My small group tonight decided (by a flurry of emails over the past two weeks! a flurry I wasn't in on!) that instead of our lesson, they'd kidnap me to my favorite Mexican place for margaritas. And they got me a present! It was a GREAT evening--like a real birthday party! I even got to blow out a candle on a fabulous cupcake. Thanks to C, C, D, J, J, J, and L for being a wonderful group and for a wonderful evening of laughter and story sharing and present opening and margarita drinking and happy birthday singing!
* I got lots of giftcards this year. That's awesome because now I can get some new books! And a check from a grandmother with a note to use it for "something you can't justify for yourself" means I'm calling tomorrow to schedule a massage and a pedicure. aaaaaah.....
* I still didn't really get any work done today, but you know....it's okay. I did get lots of phone calls, emails, and facebook wall posts wishing me a happy birthday!
* all in all, a good day. :-) Thanks to all you friends and family who made it good--from the Buffy card that plays the soundtrack to the note from long-lost friends to the cupcakes and calls. thanks.
* I know this gets to keep going because my congregation is having a birthday party for me (and for someone else too) on Sunday--yay! There will be turtle cheesecake (yum!). And the PFC is trying to make plans for fun. It's a birthday month! woowhoo!
Monday, August 04, 2008
looking back...
...about two weeks.
That's right, I'm going to attempt to blog about Scotland. But this first one may be jumbled and/or come out in list format....
1. Apparently, flying to Newark is a bad bad idea. I learned this as my plane (on which I had been rebooked because my original flight was likely to be late, causing me to miss the connection) sat on the tarmac, with "we're going!" "no, we're not..." announcements coming over the intercom every 25 minutes or so for about 3 very hot hours.
2. You can get a pedicure in the in-terminal spa at Newark, however, so flying there might be worth it if you have 30 extra minutes to spare.
3. I love Scotland.
.....
wait, that wasn't enough?
Okay....
Going back to Iona was a really interesting experience for me. I lived and worked there for two summers when I was in college, in 2000 and 2001. I came home the last time right before 9/11. Though I've done tons of other traveling since then, I've not been back to Iona. It's probably my favorite place in all the world. It's where I learned what living in community looks like. It's where I learned about my passion for creative worship. It's where I learned that I can sing and teach others to sing too. It's where I heard my call to ministry. It's a lot of things for me, besides being just my favorite place--there are memories around every curve, on every beach, in every ruin.
We stayed at the Abbey where I used to work, but this time I wasn't the one who knows everything, who handles questions and complaints. I was just a guest. Tricky, because I know things (like where the back stairs are and how much more convenient they would be) that I can't put to use, and because some things have changed (those stairs don't go as far as they used to!). Tricky because the experience is not the same, being staff and being a guest, and even coming back doing the same thing is different because the community is different. Things have changed--the staff have changed, some of the people with whom I worked have died, Historic Scotland has different responsibilities, there's scaffolding still on the Abbey Church bell tower.
But in all of that, it's still my favorite place. There's something about that island that lives inside me, I think, and it calls to me. The intentional community, the life centered on worship, the fact that there's nothing to "do" because there's no shopping, just one pub, and 22 beautiful beaches just begging to be enjoyed. The rhythm of community life, organized by bells rather than clocks. It's great.
The program we participated in (and which I had not intended to participate in quite so fully but found myself sucked into nonetheless) was about hospitality toward the Other, with the intention of helping us foster interfaith relationships. I don't think it necessarily started off well, but it definitely picked up! It was centered on three Bible studies, which were done in a great format that I plan to steal shamelessly. We were divided into groups and each given a character. After the story was read, every character group went off to its own place to think about some character-specific questions (so in the story of Naaman, my group was the king of Israel). Then each group was visited by another character or two, who had questions for us. It was a really intriguing way to get into a story. I loved it!
Also, I went to this place fully intending not to get sucked into any leadership of any kind--I didn't want to be leading worship, singing in the choir, MCing the variety show (called the "guest concert" which is generous), leading my bible study group, etc. Of course, as a pastor, I did sort of end up taking a bit of a lead in the Bible Study because sometimes there were things that would really inform our character that others didn't know to look for (ie: flip back two or three chapters and find out what king we are, are we good or bad, etc). But I did pretty well with the rest of it-I didn't lead worship or end up in the choir. However, Sam, our program leader for the week, asked me on the first day if I was musical. Since I'm a bad liar, I had to say yes. He then proceeded to ask me if I would start each of our six sessions by teaching everyone a song. Well, he looked so needy at that moment (his co-leader was ill and couldn't come) that I said yes. Which is how I found myself leading a group of 20 people in songs from around the world 6 times during the week. In case you're desperately wondering, here are the songs I chose, but not the order in which we did them (because I can't remember that!):
What else did we do? We ate together. We did chores (Elsa and I had the chore of setting up for breakfast, which we did late at night after coming back from the pub, thus releasing us from before-breakfast chores! hallelujah!!). We worshiped. We went on a pilgrimage around the island--7 miles. We made new friends. We snarked a little about our roommates (we had to be split up because of the bunk bed situation and people who weren't able to be on top bunks, while we young things are perfectly capable of climbing up there). We ate cream tea at the Argyll Hotel basically every day. We went to the pub at night. We danced at a ceilidh. I was forced to sing the fruit and jello song at the ceilidh as well (for which Ginna bought me a drink) (and which was horrendously embarrassing). We had a guest concert in which amy played a princess in a tragedy (tragic because everyone died, but actually utterly hilarious) and in which Ginna and I rushed the stage with flowers, pretending to be star struck. We sang silly songs and serious ones. We went swimming. We walked on the beach at night. We watched sunsets. We enjoyed both misty days and sunny days. We watched children play. We grieved the nuns buried at the now-ruined Nunnery (when there were only three left, the Protestant Reformation came to Scotland and the nuns were slaughtered). We laughed. I got offered a job, which I had to turn down (for now). Amy chased sheep. I b-a-a-a-d. And I learned how to do an impression of a Scottish frog (ribbit!). I'm sure there's more, and if I've left anything out I suspect my traveling companions will note that in the comments.
That's right, I'm going to attempt to blog about Scotland. But this first one may be jumbled and/or come out in list format....
1. Apparently, flying to Newark is a bad bad idea. I learned this as my plane (on which I had been rebooked because my original flight was likely to be late, causing me to miss the connection) sat on the tarmac, with "we're going!" "no, we're not..." announcements coming over the intercom every 25 minutes or so for about 3 very hot hours.
2. You can get a pedicure in the in-terminal spa at Newark, however, so flying there might be worth it if you have 30 extra minutes to spare.
3. I love Scotland.
.....
wait, that wasn't enough?
Okay....
Going back to Iona was a really interesting experience for me. I lived and worked there for two summers when I was in college, in 2000 and 2001. I came home the last time right before 9/11. Though I've done tons of other traveling since then, I've not been back to Iona. It's probably my favorite place in all the world. It's where I learned what living in community looks like. It's where I learned about my passion for creative worship. It's where I learned that I can sing and teach others to sing too. It's where I heard my call to ministry. It's a lot of things for me, besides being just my favorite place--there are memories around every curve, on every beach, in every ruin.
We stayed at the Abbey where I used to work, but this time I wasn't the one who knows everything, who handles questions and complaints. I was just a guest. Tricky, because I know things (like where the back stairs are and how much more convenient they would be) that I can't put to use, and because some things have changed (those stairs don't go as far as they used to!). Tricky because the experience is not the same, being staff and being a guest, and even coming back doing the same thing is different because the community is different. Things have changed--the staff have changed, some of the people with whom I worked have died, Historic Scotland has different responsibilities, there's scaffolding still on the Abbey Church bell tower.
But in all of that, it's still my favorite place. There's something about that island that lives inside me, I think, and it calls to me. The intentional community, the life centered on worship, the fact that there's nothing to "do" because there's no shopping, just one pub, and 22 beautiful beaches just begging to be enjoyed. The rhythm of community life, organized by bells rather than clocks. It's great.
The program we participated in (and which I had not intended to participate in quite so fully but found myself sucked into nonetheless) was about hospitality toward the Other, with the intention of helping us foster interfaith relationships. I don't think it necessarily started off well, but it definitely picked up! It was centered on three Bible studies, which were done in a great format that I plan to steal shamelessly. We were divided into groups and each given a character. After the story was read, every character group went off to its own place to think about some character-specific questions (so in the story of Naaman, my group was the king of Israel). Then each group was visited by another character or two, who had questions for us. It was a really intriguing way to get into a story. I loved it!
Also, I went to this place fully intending not to get sucked into any leadership of any kind--I didn't want to be leading worship, singing in the choir, MCing the variety show (called the "guest concert" which is generous), leading my bible study group, etc. Of course, as a pastor, I did sort of end up taking a bit of a lead in the Bible Study because sometimes there were things that would really inform our character that others didn't know to look for (ie: flip back two or three chapters and find out what king we are, are we good or bad, etc). But I did pretty well with the rest of it-I didn't lead worship or end up in the choir. However, Sam, our program leader for the week, asked me on the first day if I was musical. Since I'm a bad liar, I had to say yes. He then proceeded to ask me if I would start each of our six sessions by teaching everyone a song. Well, he looked so needy at that moment (his co-leader was ill and couldn't come) that I said yes. Which is how I found myself leading a group of 20 people in songs from around the world 6 times during the week. In case you're desperately wondering, here are the songs I chose, but not the order in which we did them (because I can't remember that!):
Bless the Lord (from Kenya)I admit, it was fun. I miss doing that.
Mayenziwe (S. Africa)
Praise, Praise, Praise the Lord (Cameroon)
Take, O Take Me As I Am (a John Bell song, so...from Scotland)
Nung Ye Da (Ghana)
Ya Rabba Ssalami (Palestine)
What else did we do? We ate together. We did chores (Elsa and I had the chore of setting up for breakfast, which we did late at night after coming back from the pub, thus releasing us from before-breakfast chores! hallelujah!!). We worshiped. We went on a pilgrimage around the island--7 miles. We made new friends. We snarked a little about our roommates (we had to be split up because of the bunk bed situation and people who weren't able to be on top bunks, while we young things are perfectly capable of climbing up there). We ate cream tea at the Argyll Hotel basically every day. We went to the pub at night. We danced at a ceilidh. I was forced to sing the fruit and jello song at the ceilidh as well (for which Ginna bought me a drink) (and which was horrendously embarrassing). We had a guest concert in which amy played a princess in a tragedy (tragic because everyone died, but actually utterly hilarious) and in which Ginna and I rushed the stage with flowers, pretending to be star struck. We sang silly songs and serious ones. We went swimming. We walked on the beach at night. We watched sunsets. We enjoyed both misty days and sunny days. We watched children play. We grieved the nuns buried at the now-ruined Nunnery (when there were only three left, the Protestant Reformation came to Scotland and the nuns were slaughtered). We laughed. I got offered a job, which I had to turn down (for now). Amy chased sheep. I b-a-a-a-d. And I learned how to do an impression of a Scottish frog (ribbit!). I'm sure there's more, and if I've left anything out I suspect my traveling companions will note that in the comments.
So that's the end of installment one of Scotland 2008 (which, in my facebook photo albums is labeled "summer in heaven"). I have to go to a breakfast meeting with my now-former senior pastor (yesterday was Richard's last day) and the other staff. More on the "pastor-who-stayed" phenomenon later. Also more on Scotland, of course, and on my observations of reading Lamb (by Christopher Moore) for the second time. There are definitely things I didn't pick up on before and now I feel dumb. Did you ever notice that this guy was writing theology as well as a hilarious novel?
breakfast...
Saturday, April 07, 2007
Good Friday Reflections
Eight years ago tonight i was in my dorm room at DePaul talking to my mom on the phone, having just attended my first ever Good Friday service. At Fourth Presbyterian Church the evening of Good Friday is a service in which the choir presents a choral service...that year it was the Poulenc Stabat Mater. I had gone to fulfill a concert attendance requirement and because I'd been invited by friends. My then-boyfriend also invited me to Easter, but I had so far refused. On the phone, my mom said "I just came from church too!"--she had been to hear a friend sing in the choir. When I told her about my Easter dilemma, she said words I never expected to hear: "You should go. Relationships are about compromise." I don't think she knew what she was getting into.
I went on Easter.
The next week, I went back.
And the week after that.
I went to an Inquirer's class.
I talked extensively with a pastor.
I joined the church (by baptism and profession of faith) on April 25.
It's been a long journey in 8 years....from just going to hyper-involvement in the church through stints in Scotland on to seminary and then to Egypt and now I'm a pastor in the suburbs of my favorite American city. I've had three other boyfriends (counting the current one!) since then. Both my great-grandmothers and my mother, (and all my goldfish) have died since then. I've lived in 7 different apartments/houses since then. I've gained new friends and lost some friends, both through distance and to death. I've gained two cats. My life has changed drastically from clarinet-filled to church-filled, but music is always still around. I'm a "real grownup" now--I've bought a house and a car, I have a job, I pay bills and taxes, I worry about my cats. Eight years ago I just went to a service. Now I lead the service...thinking about microphones and whether I'm tall enough to blow out the 5th candle and taking the few minutes afterward to discuss with the senior pastor which white stole to wear on Easter morning. Eight years ago, I went to church with two friends to hear a "concert." Now I go to church alone and yet in a wonderful community...though a community of church-friends, not what I would call "regular friends." the music is still wonderful. The main difference, the one that makes the day hard? No talking to mom afterward, being surprised and wondering what tricks she's got up her sleeve next, what new thing she has done for a friend, what new boundary that I've always taken for granted she's crossed today. And I miss her.
Sunday morning we'll proclaim the incredible good news that God has triumphed over death. But people still die, and they don't come back. The last prayer/meditation from our service tonight, addressing a Jesus who has breathed his last, says something about those who've gone...something like "tell them that we miss them, they are not forgotten." Well, that's true.
It's also true what Walter Brueggemann says about Christians being a Saturday people. We proclaim this news that death has no sting and no power, except it still does. We wait, in the in-between place, the Saturday place, the place between earth and heaven, the place between our reality and God's kingdom, the place between death and new life.
I hate waiting.
(I also love the Princess Bride...)
So this Good Friday, when it's almost late enough to be Saturday, when I'm getting ready to sleep before tomorrow's Easter Egg Hunt (odd for that waiting, that Holy Quiet Saturday), this is what I am thinking about....that Good Friday 8 years ago, when things were different, and how the journey has changed me and how the world has changed and where the journey might be taking me next.
I went on Easter.
The next week, I went back.
And the week after that.
I went to an Inquirer's class.
I talked extensively with a pastor.
I joined the church (by baptism and profession of faith) on April 25.
It's been a long journey in 8 years....from just going to hyper-involvement in the church through stints in Scotland on to seminary and then to Egypt and now I'm a pastor in the suburbs of my favorite American city. I've had three other boyfriends (counting the current one!) since then. Both my great-grandmothers and my mother, (and all my goldfish) have died since then. I've lived in 7 different apartments/houses since then. I've gained new friends and lost some friends, both through distance and to death. I've gained two cats. My life has changed drastically from clarinet-filled to church-filled, but music is always still around. I'm a "real grownup" now--I've bought a house and a car, I have a job, I pay bills and taxes, I worry about my cats. Eight years ago I just went to a service. Now I lead the service...thinking about microphones and whether I'm tall enough to blow out the 5th candle and taking the few minutes afterward to discuss with the senior pastor which white stole to wear on Easter morning. Eight years ago, I went to church with two friends to hear a "concert." Now I go to church alone and yet in a wonderful community...though a community of church-friends, not what I would call "regular friends." the music is still wonderful. The main difference, the one that makes the day hard? No talking to mom afterward, being surprised and wondering what tricks she's got up her sleeve next, what new thing she has done for a friend, what new boundary that I've always taken for granted she's crossed today. And I miss her.
Sunday morning we'll proclaim the incredible good news that God has triumphed over death. But people still die, and they don't come back. The last prayer/meditation from our service tonight, addressing a Jesus who has breathed his last, says something about those who've gone...something like "tell them that we miss them, they are not forgotten." Well, that's true.
It's also true what Walter Brueggemann says about Christians being a Saturday people. We proclaim this news that death has no sting and no power, except it still does. We wait, in the in-between place, the Saturday place, the place between earth and heaven, the place between our reality and God's kingdom, the place between death and new life.
I hate waiting.
(I also love the Princess Bride...)
So this Good Friday, when it's almost late enough to be Saturday, when I'm getting ready to sleep before tomorrow's Easter Egg Hunt (odd for that waiting, that Holy Quiet Saturday), this is what I am thinking about....that Good Friday 8 years ago, when things were different, and how the journey has changed me and how the world has changed and where the journey might be taking me next.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
surprise!
Jason is here!
His birthday is tomorrow, and his surprise birthday present (worked out by me, his mom, his brother, and the pastor of his church) was/is a trip here to visit me and to have a birthday experience at the art institute's current special exhibit on Tuesday. yay! I am very excited, happy that it seems to have been a real surprise, and glad to see him. He is glad to be here, I think! He could hardly believe that I was able to pull off a surprise like this. I'm not always a good secret keeper, and I nearly told him everything several times, and nearly slipped up about fifty other times!
So anyway, happy birthday Jason! I hope you like your Birthday Surprise. :-) much love!
His birthday is tomorrow, and his surprise birthday present (worked out by me, his mom, his brother, and the pastor of his church) was/is a trip here to visit me and to have a birthday experience at the art institute's current special exhibit on Tuesday. yay! I am very excited, happy that it seems to have been a real surprise, and glad to see him. He is glad to be here, I think! He could hardly believe that I was able to pull off a surprise like this. I'm not always a good secret keeper, and I nearly told him everything several times, and nearly slipped up about fifty other times!
So anyway, happy birthday Jason! I hope you like your Birthday Surprise. :-) much love!
Saturday, February 10, 2007
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