on the 29th-to-last day of my 30s....

 ...I am once again thinking about how little we know about each other.

Over the past few years I have conducted a lot of funerals. And after at least half of those meetings with families, I have marvelled at how much people don't know about their loved ones. I'm something of a broken record about asking my friends to write down things about their lives, or to talk to their kids about their pre-parenting experiences. Because so much of what we know about our parents is really centred around ourselves rather than being about them, and too often the person's identity and personality ends up feeling pretty one-dimensional when we try to talk about them. 

What sort of things did they enjoy as a child? How did they get into (or out of!) trouble? What skills did they pick up or abandon? How did they meet the person they married? What did that relationship look like before children? What hobbies have endured, or were only for a season? What accomplishments have been forgotten along the way? What adventures did they take, meals did they love, places did they visit? How did they meet friends, and what kept those enduring friendships alive over the decades? How did they feel about things that happened in the world? Where were they at pivotal moments in history? What were the pivotal moments in their own lives (sometimes these are much smaller than a marriage or kids!)? And once children are grown and out of the house, what sorts of things filled their days? What did they enjoy doing for themselves, or for their community, not just for their kids? What kinds of things did they think about, pray about, wonder about that didn't have anything to do with their kids or homemaking or job?

So I suppose the lesson from this end of the decade is that it's important to share our lives with each other. Every time I make a "wine and the word" video I begin by sharing high and low points of the day, and I say something about how important it is that we share even these mundane things, because they are what make up a life. Living this life together in community, deepening our relationships through regular sharing of ourselves, matters. This is what it means to be community, to be in relationship: to know each other beyond just the small talk, and beyond just the most visible aspect of our days.

In what is probably not a coincidence, this is the poem I flipped to this morning as I was revisiting Nadine Aisha Jassat's debut collection "Let Me Tell You This":

Mother

He told me not to heed the Old Wives' Tales,

superstition and elaboration

bound in proverb and fable.

At home, by the kitchen table,

I watched my mother's hands spin the yarn

of meals and housework,

of duty and obligation.

I long to hear the tales in you.

To know that self beyond dinner time and bedtime,

to know the time of the tick of your heart,

which echoes in mine.

I wish I could press my ear to you like a shell,

to hear the ocean of you,

to know the roar that is yours.

What if it gets washed away too quickly?

And I live my life without your tales -- 

Searching, in the empty space by the kitchen table,

in the silence, for the words which were my mother.

Not *quite* fluent...

I have learned several languages in my life—some for speaking, some for reading. There are lots of aspects to learning a new language, from the basic vocabulary, to the different forms of verbs (and nouns, in some languages), to grammar rules, to pronunciation and inflection, etc.

There are also stages to learning a language.
There’s the stage when all you can do is say ridiculous things that bear no resemblance to conversation, because for some reason discussing the cat on the chair or under the table or whatever is the way to learn. (I’ve never quite understood this, but...yeah.)

There’s the stage when you can read relatively well but speaking is still a bit beyond your ability.

There’s the stage when you can speak decently, and though no one would mistake you for a native, they might mistake you for someone who can understand them if they speak back to you at their normal speed.

There’s the stage when you dream in the new language, and that’s usually a sign you’re headed for fluency.

When it comes to my Familiarisation process, I would say I’m somewhere between those last two stages. I feel like, as I try to work out things like Remembrance and Christingles and Watchnight, and to navigate the search process which is far more different from the PCUSA than I think most of us realise, I am at the stage of language acquisition where I can speak decently enough, but when someone starts talking to me I still have to spend a significant amount of energy translating to my native tongue before I can proceed in the conversation.

This is also true of basic life things like temperature (I’ve got my weather app on Celsius because it seems like I should be able to figure that out, but I’m definitely translating that to Fahrenheit in my mind when I want to know which coat to wear in the morning)...and cooking, where directions will say things like “use 200 ml of water to cook 40g of quinoa per serving” (I’m so glad I brought my American measuring cups in my suitcase, lol!)...etc.

So...all of that to say, I may look like I’m getting the hang of things, little by little, but I’m still translating inside my mind and that makes me slow to figure out what you’re talking about, or what I’m supposed to do next, or what to expect from the search process or communication norms or what “lay a wreath” means exactly, or which tunes the Christmas carols are sung to (hint: all different than they are in the US!), or how the order of worship is both the same and different from where I am right now and from all my previous experiences.

But my dreams are here, and use at least some of the language and images and culture, so I’m calling that a good sign. :-)

shells

Currently, I live about 50 yards from the beach. It's amazing, and I walk on the beach most days. Someone on Facebook described my photos as "the moods of my beach" and that seems about right...sometimes it's glowing:

And sometimes it's a little...well...moodier:

One night recently I was out walking and this tiny perfect pink shell caught my eye.

As you can see, the beach is not fine sand in this particular spot, but rather it is in various stages of becoming sand. Rocks and shells in many sizes, from complete to tiny fragments, being pounded by waves and rain and wind and people and dogs and horses and seagulls, until it becomes the kind of sand people think of when they think of a beautiful beach. The other side of the harbour has that kind of sand, but this side is more beautiful, I think, as you see a little more behind-the scenes of beach-making.
Anyway, I was looking at this shell, which was perfect, and pink on the inside, and gorgeous in every way, and pondering how it caught my attention in the midst of this particular beach. I picked it up to take home with me. I sent Julia a picture, and told her about it...and then I noticed that it wasn't in my hand anymore.
I had dropped it somewhere along the way.
I hadn't walked far or fast, as I was enjoying the beach and also texting (which normally I try not to do when I'm on the beach!). But still, it was gone.
I immediately tried to retrace my steps and figure out when I'd dropped it and if I could find it again. The tide was coming in, which changes the colours, and also, as you can see, finding one shell in this walk is easier said than done:

I looked and looked. I walked slowly, head down, bending over constantly. I tried to guess when it had slipped silently from my hand and back to its beachy home. I probably went over the same twenty feet of beach, in an 18-inch-wide swath, three times. My Fitbit must have thought I was insane. I looked until my back was beginning to get sore from hunching over, and until the water encroached on the very place I had been walking. 

While I was looking, I had several times I thought I found it. The first one was so similar I actually texted Julia that I'd found it (phew!)...but on looking more closely, I realised it wasn't the same shell. Then I started to find others that were obviously the same animal/type, but again, were not the same shell.

Eventually, I had three that were not the one I was looking for, and I couldn't stay out there any longer with no coat and the tide coming in. I debated: drop the three shells that weren't the perfect one I thought I wanted but had lost? Or take them home, as a reminder not to text on the beach?

As I walked home, three shells in hand, mild self-recrimination reverberating through my disappointment at having lost the shell I thought I wanted (even though just moments before I dropped it, I'd never even seen it before and didn't know I wanted it), I realised:

I'm embarking on a search process, hoping to find the church community God is calling me to spend the next portion of my life with. And sometimes it feels like sifting through thousands of really similar shells. And sometimes it feels like the one I really really wanted is lost to me. And sometimes it feels like every option has something not *quite* right. And sometimes I need to just be in the midst of it all, not distracted and letting things slip through my fingers.

And sometimes the three in my hand are beautiful, and perfect in their imperfection, and one of them could be just the thing.




.
.
.


Note: I'm literally at the very beginning of this process....as in, today I worked on turning my PCUSA search paperwork into the type of CV that is expected here. I've not actually applied anywhere and I don't have any particular place in mind as yet, other than hoping God is calling me to someplace where I don't have to figure out how to afford a car...and also not-secretly hoping to stay somewhere near a beach, LOL.

  

moving...

A few weeks ago, I announced to my church that I am moving away this spring. My last day at church will be at the end of April, and then at the end of May I'm taking a one-way flight to Scotland! I'm transferring to the Church of Scotland, which of course could also be called The Original Presbyterians (tm).

from my first time living on Iona...almost half my life ago!

I've loved Scotland from the first minute I set foot there in June of 2000. This is not the first time I've nearly moved, nor the first time I've considered it. I have friends in Scotland who began asking me in 2012 if I was ever going to actually move, or just talk about wanting to. The timing has never been right before, but this time I think the Spirit has finally lined things up. :-)

I've had this porcelain doll probably 30 years
and I only just noticed that it's a little creepy.
I apologize to everyone who has slept under
its gaze in my guest room.

So...this weekend, I held a living estate sale, and sold a large chunk of my belongings. I still have a bunch left to sell, of course, because it turns out that living in the same place for 10 years means I have somehow managed to accumulate All The Things. I've dropped off a car load of clothes at the thrift shop that supports the women's shelter, and I'll drop off a carload of housewares tomorrow. My condo went on the market today. Things are in motion.

how many picture frames can one person accumulate? a lot. with no pictures in them, of course, because why would I do that?

Lots of people have asked how I decided to do this, and where I'll be going, and if I can take the kitties, and what my dad thinks of my moving so far away, etc. I'm planning to put up a page with answers to all this and more, I promise. Then it'll just be there, in a tab at the top of the page, so it's easy to find.

In the meantime:
*The process for transferring my credentials to the CoS is long, and I've been considering it for a while. I declined the first time I was invited to an interview weekend, but went last year. It feels right and I've loved Scotland and the model of the CoS (geographic parishes) for a long time.
*Yes, I'll take the kitties, and no, they don't have to be quarantined, as long as everything is in order before we go. It will be very expensive to take them, though, so I've set up a GoFundMe page because I'd prefer not to be anxious about going into debt to bring them. They pick up anxiety and I don't want them to be unhappy either!
*My dad seems excited for me, and I've lived at least 2000 miles away for my entire adult life (and some of those years were a lot more than 2000 miles) so I don't get the sense it's a big change, other than in the number of time zones.
*No, I'm not taking my car, because it'll be backwards. Yes, I am taking a few things from my house, but not many. I even managed to cull about half my library, which was like cutting off an arm. I definitely put more than half of my panda collection into the "keep" box though.

Now that the news is out, I'll hopefully be able to blog more. It's hard to write when there's something big brewing that isn't public knowledge yet, so my blog has been neglected. Sorry about that! More to come, I promise.

Opening to the Light: Advent Candle liturgies for 2016

2016 Advent/Christmas Theme: Opening To The Light
Narrative Lectionary Year 3: Daniel 6, Joel 2, Isaiah 61, Luke 1
Musical verse is from Light the Advent Candle by Ruth Elaine Schram

Lit candle is carried in as congregation sings (tune: Picardy, except last two lines):

As we light the Advent candle
with the light of hope burning bright,
faithfully we wait for his coming;
faithfully it shines through the night.
In our humble hearts a fire burns as well;
hear the prayer these flames would tell.
O come, O come, Emmanuel,
and ransom captive Israel.

Candle-bearer: The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

week 1 (Daniel 6.6-27):
Liturgist:  One candle shines as shadows lengthen and chaos roars—
the dawn of God’s kingdom in our midst.
All:  Courage awakens in us, a spark to brighten the way.

week 2 (Joel 2.12-13, 28-29):
Liturgist:  Two candles shine as light peeks through the cracks
and God’s dream overflows.
All:  Vision awakens in us, a spark to brighten the way.

week 3 (Isaiah 61.1-11):
Liturgist:  Three candles shine as God’s promise draws near,
beckoning us to be good news in body and spirit.
All:  Justice awakens in us, a spark to brighten the way.

week 4 (Luke 1.26-55):
Liturgist:  Four candles shine as God’s purpose is revealed
in word and flesh.
All:  Possibility awakens in us, a spark to brighten the way.

Liturgist:  Radiant flash and feeble flame break through;
a long time coming, yet unexpected.
Watching and waiting, we prepare him room.
All:  Christ is coming to make all things new,
and we are opening to the Light.

~~~
The middle section swaps out each week (not cumulative, as some previous years) so, for example, the bulletin for week 1 would look like this:

Lit candle is carried in as congregation sings

      As we light the Advent candle  

      with the light of hope burning bright,    

      faithfully we wait for his coming;

      faithfully it shines through the night.

      In our humble hearts a fire burns as well;

      hear the prayer these flames would tell.

                  O come, O come, Emmanuel,

                  and ransom captive Israel.

Candle-bearer: The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

Liturgist:   One candle shines as shadows lengthen and chaos roars—

      the dawn of God’s kingdom in our midst.

All:           Courage awakens in us, a spark to brighten the way.

Liturgist:   Bright flash and feeble flame break through;

                  a long time coming, yet unexpected.

                  Watching and waiting, we prepare him room.

All:           Christ is coming to make all things new,

                 and we are opening to the Light.

following the thread of grace

Over the summer, we read the Bible in 90 Days. It was awesome. During worship on the Sunday after we finished reading, we had a "Tour Through Scripture"--each of the following verses were written down on notecards (one book's quote per card), and then we read them aloud, with each person in the room reading a card. In order, obviously (the cards were numbered, too...). Then I encouraged people to take their notecard with them, to put it on the mirror or to carry it around and to use it to memorize the verse, and to use it as a lens through which to look at life for the rest of the year. Where does this snippet of scripture seem to shed light, or give a different perspective, or remind me, etc?

There really is evidence of God's grace, love, and forgiveness all throughout the Bible, in spite of the common misconception that the Old Testament is all wrath and judgment and the New is all love and light. There's plenty of all of those to go around in all 66 books. But this particular tour follows one of the many threads of grace, from "In the beginning..." to "Amen."

Tour Through Scripture: Tracing a Thread of Grace
(for the closing worship service after we finished the Bible in 90 Days, 2016)

Genesis 1.1-4
Exodus 3.14-15 (or 34.6)
Leviticus 19.9-10, 18
Numbers 6.22-27
Deuteronomy 16.16b-17 & 26.10b-11
Joshua 5.13-15 (or 24.13-14b)
Judges 2.18
Ruth 1.16-17
1 Samuel 3.8b-10 (or 7.10-12)
2 Samuel 24.24-25
1 Kings 8.15-21
2 Kings 4.42-44
1 Chronicles 16.8-15
2 Chronicles 34.28b-32
Ezra 7.27-28b
Nehemiah 9.5-8
Esther 9.20-22
Job 42.1-5
Psalm 73.24-26
Proverbs 3.13-15, 19-20
Ecclesiastes 3.10-11
Song of Songs 8.6-7a
Isaiah 25.6-9
Jeremiah 31.1-3
Lamentations 3.22-26
Ezekiel 37.26-27
Daniel 10.11-12, 18-19a
Hosea 11.3-4, 9
Joel 2.12-13
Amos 5.14-15
Obadiah 12, 20a, 21
Jonah 4.10-11
Micah 4.1-5 (or 7.18-20)
Nahum 1.15
Habakkuk 3.17-19
Zephaniah 3.9, 19-20a
Haggai 2.5-7
Zechariah 8.7-8
Malachi 3.6a, 17
Matthew 22.37-40
Mark 2.16-17 (or 4.21-23)
Luke 24.9-12
John 15.12-13, 16
Acts 10.28, 34, 36
Romans 5.1-2
1 Corinthians 1.27-30
2 Corinthians 4.15
Galatians 5.13-14
Ephesians 1.18-19a (or through 23)
Philippians 2.12-13
Colossians 2.2-3
1 Thessalonians 1.2-4
2 Thessalonians 1.11-12
1 Timothy 4.7b-8
2 Timothy 1.9-10
Titus 2.11-14
Hebrews 10.23-25 (or 4.12)
James 1.17-18
1 Peter 4.8-11 (or 1.20-21)
2 Peter 3.8-9
1 John 3.2
2 John 5-6
3 John 4-5
Jude 20-21
Revelation 22.1-6, 20-21


*note: many of the cards used the Common English Bible translation. Some used the NRSV. Very occasionally I might have used something else if I liked the way it flowed, from a memorization perspective, but the vast majority were CEB. 

Mother's Day Flowers

So, it's Mother's Day again.

Again.

Every year, it keeps coming. It's worse than Sunday, which comes every week without fail.

From where I sit as a motherless daughter, I do not need to be reminded to love my mom. I do not need to be reminded to appreciate her. Besides the fact that every single organization/store/person under the sun is sending 400 emails a day with subject lines like "don't forget mom!" (who forgets their mother? Even if she was terrible. I mean really. Sure, we may not realize how close we are to the fake holiday that allows us to pretend it makes up for the other 364 days, but the idea that anyone forgets their mother is fairly ridiculous.) there's also the part where I no longer have the privilege or opportunity to appreciate her or to show my love for her. Instead I spend these days thinking of the times I hurt her feelings, the times I didn't tell her how much I loved her, the things I wish we could have done together. I spend the days leading up to Mother's Day, and often the day itself, longing for something I can never have. And then, because I'm in my mid-thirties now, also being reminded of my apparent slacker-ness when it comes to the becoming-a-mom front.

my inbox looks like this, and more, every day for about 2 weeks before Mother's Day. ugh.

Whose idea was it to insist that Mother's Day (and Father's Day) be on a Sunday? It has led us into dangerous territory, church-wise.

Too often, Mother's Day (and to a lesser extent Father's Day, and Memorial Day, and the Fourth of July) has become a religious holiday, even though it a) is not and b) was even disowned by its creator for being too commercialized and sappy.

I realize that in some churches (and in some families), Mother's Day just has to be observed via some kind of liturgical practice.

If that is true in your church or family, I beg you:
Do it some time other than the usual worship time. 

If your worship service(s) are on Sunday morning at 8:30/9/10/11:15, or Saturday at 5pm, or Sunday at 7pm, or whenever...please, for the love of God and all that is holy--and for the good of people in the congregation and community, and for the integrity of worship--have your Mother's Day observance either before or after worship. Do not do it in the context of regular Sunday worship. Ever.

Why?
Because too many people--women and men, old and young--find Mother's Day to be exceedingly painful. And people who have these experiences that make Mother's Day painful (infertility, miscarriage, grief, abuse, etc) are often the very people who seek out church community...and the very people that will turn around and walk out the door at the first sign of carnations on the second Sunday of May.

Let's picture some scenarios.
a) During worship, there is a contest for who's been a mother the longest. All the mothers stand, and more and more progressively sit down as the ages of their children are called out, until the last woman standing is 102 and has an 84 year old child (and we all pretend we can't do math, because surely in those days kids were much better than now), and she is given a prize of a bouquet and some chocolate. Meanwhile, the woman who had a miscarriage last year wonders if she's really a mother. The woman who doesn't want to be pregnant looks around furtively to see if anyone notices her. The woman whose child died by suicide wonders if she still has the right to stand up. The woman who desperately wants a child but doesn't have the partner/finances/job/insurance/fertility treatments looks on while trying to hold back tears....and wonders what does this have to do with worshipping God?

b) On the way into the sanctuary, women are given flowers indicating their status as mothers.

Women who are obviously mothers (i.e. those with children in tow, those we know) are given carnations in different shades for different ages of children. Women who are not obviously mothers (i.e., visitors, new members the ushers don't know yet) are asked brightly "are you a mother?" and if they say no, the usher pulls back the basket of flowers and looks disappointed before saying "one day, dear!" and turning to the next unsuspecting woman. Meanwhile, the tone and purpose of worship has been set, and it isn't about Jesus.


c) On the way into the sanctuary, all women are given a carnation to wear on their lapel. Because all women are motherly. All women are nurturers. All women mother someone, whether or not they have children. Because obviously to be a woman IS to be a mother, so we must all be one. If you can't already hear the buzzer on this one, imagine it now. To conflate womanhood and motherhood is to tell those of us without children that we are incomplete, not real women...and to imply that all women are nurturing/motherly/whatever is a bunch of sexist BS that I never want to hear again. Because it's a) not true and b) ignores the nurturing men.

d) On the way into the sanctuary, everyone is given a carnation, because "everyone has a mother!" as the ushers will cheerily remind you as you come in. Sometimes it will be different colors for alive or dead, sometimes it's whatever was cheapest at the grocery store on Saturday when someone thought up this idea. Here's the thing: it's a terrible idea. (as if the previous ideas were not terrible?) Yes, it is biologically true that everyone has a mother. It is also true that many relationships with mothers are not best characterized by flowers. It is also true that people getting those white carnations will now spend much of the worship service thinking about their dead mother rather than about God. It is also true that people who were adopted, people whose mothers died very young, people who were abused, people who are estranged from their families, people whose mothers are living in the memory care unit and will not recognize them when they go over for lunch...these people came to church to focus their attention on the One who knit us together, who called us into being, and who is worthy of praise...and instead they are getting a slap in the face, a poke in the gut, a ripping of the heart in the one place and time that should absolutely be about God.


So what do we do in church on Mother's Day?
*Well, for starters, toss the carnations. Even at their best they remind 90% of us of funerals anyway.

*Next, nix any idea of "recognizing moms" during worship. At best, it is patronizing as we spend one minute thanking them for everything we take for granted the other 525,599 minutes of the year. At worst, it is a stake through the heart of a sizable number of people sitting in the pews.

*Absolutely feel free to mention it in the prayers of the people, the same way you would mention any other cultural or news event. In other words, not a special mother's day prayer, but a few lines acknowledging those who show us God's mothering love (best to use scriptural metaphors...mother hen, she-bears...) and acknowledging the pain that sometimes occurs in our human relationships.

*If you really have to do something, reach back to the first attempt at creating a Mothers Day...in 1870. At least that had meaning and purpose beyond just giving us another year to, apparently, forget our moms.


If you need more than that, please, I beg you: do it at some time other than the regular worship time. Have a special Mother's Day service. Have something during coffee hour. Allow those of us who find Mother's Day a trauma to worship God and then leave before the carnations and clapping.




Dear mom: I haven't forgotten you, I promise. And I'm pretty sure you didn't like carnations anyway, so this is one thing I don't feel guilty about. Sorry for the times I was a crappy/bratty/obnoxious/know-it-all kid. And young adult. Sorry I didn't get to tell you how much I love you more often. Sorry the Mother's Day cards mostly suck and are apparently the best we can do. I miss you. So much that if I thought it would bring me even ten more minutes, I would hand out carnations to every person who does so much as drive by the church, let alone walk in. 
(They would, of course, not be pink. duh.)

Dear church, and all the people who have been like a mother to me over the years, in churches and out of them: I love you. And we will not be celebrating mothers during worship. We will be celebrating the grace of God, whose love and peace pass all understanding, and who is a far more perfect parent than even the most amazing among us. 

the best laid plans...

...sometimes have to be sacrificed for sleep.

I had a super profound blog post for today, I swear. But it will have to wait, because I've been fighting to stay awake for an hour already, so I'm about to take my super lame old-lady self to bed before 9...and before I fall asleep on the couch and wake up with a stiff neck and all the lights still on.

If I manage to keep blogging into December, then you can look for the post I think was going to be so profound. I'll mix it in with some kitty news and food pictures, so you can find it easily. ha.

happy last day of November...as we slide headlong into winter, may your holiday season (whichever holiday you may celebrate) be bright. Especially since it's so dark outside.

Singing Thanks

After a day practicing Sabbath (I napped, read 2.5 books, petted the kitties, listened to the rain, and enjoyed the silence), tonight was the Interfaith Thanksgiving Service.

I've been involved in this service since the beginning, which we think may have been 7 years ago. Or possibly 6. In any case...we have had a variety of ways to give thanks as a community over the past several years. Some years we have relied heavily on spoken and chanted prayers from different traditions--responsive readings, especially. A couple of years we had storytellers who brought out different themes of gratitude. Last year we asked each faith community to give us a synopsis of the foundations/keystones of their tradition, and celebrated the things that make us who we are--and then we asked each individual to think of what they personally have to offer, and we put together the puzzle of our community, literally.

This year, we called the program "Melodies of Gratitude" and we spent the evening hearing music from a variety of musicians who are part of different traditions. Some of the music was explicitly religious (a Muslim poem of thanks), others were written by members of the various communities. Some were instrumental and meditative, evoking thoughts of our blessings without ever uttering a word, others involved the whole congregation in singing along. While it went longer than we anticipated, it was wonderful to hear from so many beautiful voices and instruments, to let gratitude echo through the amazing space and settle into our souls through melody, harmony, rhythm, and wonder.

I'm so lucky to be a part of Faithbridge. I hope everyone has something like it, because this is the kind of thing that changes the world for the better: when we get together and hear each other's songs and stories, share snacks, visit each other's houses of worship, and know our neighbors' names and places. Amazing, and worth all the gratitude we can muster!

here are some snippets of communal singing with the performers--beautiful in the wonderful Blue Lotus space, as you can hear.

junk mail...not always junk?

I check my mailbox about once a week. Maybe twice. Or sometimes only once every two weeks. More than once, the mailman has stopped me as I have pulled out of my garage, to tell me the mailbox is full. Also more than once, I've checked the box only to find a note that they've taken my mail to the post office, and I'll have to go pick it up, with a side of stern-lecture-about-vacation-holds. (Except, of course, I wasn't on vacation...I just didn't get around to the mail.)

Once I get the mail, I take the whole bundle straight to the recycling bin, and I sort it there, before it ever gets into the house. Probably about 90% of my mail goes into the bin unopened. The other 10% is actually important or interesting or personal.

A couple of days ago, I was dropping things in the bin as usual (of course on the day after the recycling was picked up, so the massive bin was empty), when I realized that I'd dropped in the What On Earth catalog.

Now, I rarely buy things from these catalogs. But occasionally I've given in to a whim from this one, or from my favorite bizarre catalog of stuff I don't need.

And I really like to look at the pictures of stuff in these two catalogs. I find it a fun way to relax on what I call "pastor Friday" (aka Thursday) night. No brain required, just curl up under the blankets and flip the pages of hilarity.

So I went, headfirst, into the recycling bin to retrieve the catalog. This sounds simple, but seriously, the bin is over half my height. So it's no easy feat to reach to the bottom.

Tonight, I reap the rewards for that labor. Blankets, cats, me, the catalog. Page 1 has the martini/wine glass. I actually looked at this as if it might be a good idea. It's a reversible glass...one side is a wine glass, and if you flip it over, it's a martini glass. Very clever.

Turn the page, and in the center of the spread is someone wearing this shirt:

and I confess that I may have briefly broken the 10th commandment.

I wonder: if I were to wear this shirt on Thursdays, would the sermons be finished earlier than they are now? It comes in a t-shirt and a hoodie, so appropriate for both seasons we have here in Northern Illinois.... ;-)

not repeating myself

Often when I am pondering what to say in this week's sermon, I go to check my files to see if I've preached a text before. Now that we're using the Narrative Lectionary, the chances are good that I have not. But sometimes a text comes up that is also in the Revised Common Lectionary, and sometimes it's one I've preached on before. I like to know what I said last time, to make sure I'm not just preaching the same thing over again. Unless it was brilliant, in which case I want to make sure I preach it exactly the same over again. ;-)

This week I had Micah 5-6, including that famous part "what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God." I couldn't remember preaching it before, but I checked the files just in case.

There is one sermon labeled "Micah 6" in my file. It is from the first Sunday in February, 2011.

It was the first Sunday I was preaching after the revolution began in Egypt.

The first line of the sermon says "I wasn't all that interested in writing a sermon this week, so I didn't."

Instead, it was a collection of stories and pictures of people I knew and loved in Egypt, people I was worried about, people I was praying for as I obsessively watched the al-Jazeera live coverage online.

I made a half-hearted attempt to tie things together with the scripture, but the reality is that most of my heart was elsewhere that week.

Needless to say, I didn't borrow from that sermon for today's.

But it did call up fresh mental images of those people. So many have emigrated or fled. My former students are in university in Europe, or pastoring in Australia and Canada. My fellow teachers who could afford it are here in the USA. Few who have choices have chosen to stay, and those without choice (aka without financial means) are just trying to get by without being too noticeable. The hope of the Arab Spring has turned to disappointment for many.

And there I think there is actually a connection to Micah. What does it mean for a people called to DO justice that we have ignored/enabled/profited from the suffering of others? What does it mean to love kindness even as Christians are leaving their ancient homes in droves, while we barely know they were there in the first place? What does it mean to walk humbly with God if we are not walking beside those who live in fear, or serious economic deprivation, or without access to clean water, enough food, or an education?

This photo went around a lot during the revolution. It still speaks to who we are called to be...but neither Egypt nor we have lived up to the promise of this picture. Maybe we can do better soon.

Christians protect Muslims at prayer in downtown Cairo, January 2011

Advent Candles 2014

(NOTE: We have the new Presbyterian Hymnal Glory to God...adjust the hymn number as you need!)

Advent Candle Liturgy 2014

(Narrative Lectionary Year 1: Habakkuk 1-2-3, Esther, Isaiah 42, Matthew 1)

One:    In the darkness a light shines

though shadows lengthen, the flame burns bright.

All:     Day by day God draws nearer;

day by day we prepare.

Hymn 350: Keep Your Lamps, verse 1
~the candle is lit~

One:    In the depths of creation, God planted a vision

breathed it into life,

wrote it on our hearts.

add in week 2 (ideally a second single voice)

In every time and every place,

in this time and this place,

we are called to witness to real power, real authority:

Love made flesh.

then add on for week 3 (with 3^rd voice):

God declares a new thing,

heavens and earth sing glory.

The promise is true,

and we are its messengers.

                                    then add on for week 4 (4^th voice):

Do not be afraid:
God is with us!

All:     The Spirit calls us still to share the good news: 
light shines, and darkness will never overcome it!


(it's possible that we will begin each week with no candles lit, and light another between each voice...) .

church book group

At my church we are doing this new thing where a team of people are in charge of the whole life of the church for a season (about 6-7 weeks): they study scripture, discern a theme, and plan events around those texts and theme.
Currently we are in the middle of the Harvest 2 season, with the theme "Unexpected." For adult education, we are having a Monday night book group that is reading and discussing a novel--seeking spiritual/faith lessons in a secular book. We chose The Goldfinch as the book, in part because it has so many unexpected things in the story, and in part because it's a popular book right now. The group meets at Panera, where we can eat and talk and generally have a good time.

And can I just say: it's basically the best thing ever. I loved the book, for one thing, so am happy to get to read it again. I love talking about the book with people, and digging into the relationships, the spaces, the interior lives of characters. Plus we get to talk about whether we've ever experienced freedom that turned out to be slavery, or if we have objects in our lives that connect us to people or experiences of our past, or if there are particular rituals that help us get more grounded when we feel unmoored. It's amazing to make these connections between a great book (which seems, on the surface, pretty dark and depressing) and our spiritual lives. So cool to practice reading through a theological lens, looking for where there's a glimpse of the Spirit or where it feels like a character is connected to a larger God-story (even though that's not explicit in the book). Super love it.

And the moral of this story is: everyone should read The Goldfinch because it's amazing, and be on the lookout for what spiritual lessons it has to teach you, because there are plenty! And then I want to talk about it with you, because the book is so amazing I can barely keep my mouth shut about it. :-)

time...zones, change, free, etc

When I went to California a few weeks ago, I felt like my body never quite made the time zone shift.

Until I got home, that is, and proceeded to feel like everything was two hours earlier, which meant I was staying up ridiculously late.

And then the time change happened and plunged mornings back into darkness.

And, just to top that off, I've had something at work every night pretty much since I got home--4 (or even 5) nights each week.

I've been sleeping in and working from home in the mornings, but somehow even when I shift an 8-hour work day to the afternoon and evening, it still ends up feeling like I'm working non-stop with no free time. There's something about having the morning free that feels different than having the evening free.

I think I've narrowed it down to two main things...
1. in the morning, I'm not really off, I'm working but in my pajamas with a cup of coffee and a cat. Whereas in the evening, I'm more likely to be on the couch with a glass of wine or some ice cream and a movie or a book...not checking my email, writing liturgy, etc.
2(a). I miss cooking dinner. For some reason, eating breakfast and lunch and then going to work feels less restful and whole-persony to me than cooking and eating dinner does.
2(b). When I get home late, I still want to eat or read or watch a movie or do something like that, which means I'm not going to bed until late...which is perpetuating my general feeling of tiredness, even if I go to bed at 1 and get up at 8 or 9, it still feels weird to never cook dinner at home.

I don't know how people work that second or third shift, because it turns out I really like to make dinner. Something about that is what makes life feel normal and livable and with enough pause/rest to go to the next day.

is there a thing that makes your day feel "normal" (as opposed to "too full")? What is it?

feelings part 2

Writing yesterday's post made me realize that I've actually been carrying around quite a bit of hurt that I wouldn't necessarily have expressed as such. Which reminded me of something I've often thought but haven't said out loud, and I'm not sure other pastors have either:

Believe it or not, your pastor has feelings, and cares a great deal, and can feel hurt and betrayed and upset and frustrated, in addition to feeling compassion and sadness and happiness and excitement.

So much of professional ministry is about hearing others' feelings, making sure everyone feels heard and supported, and offering energy for things. So much, in fact, that I think people forget that those who do this work have feelings of their own, and we are indeed affected by the things people say (to or about us, about church, about anything really) and the things people do. We pour time, energy, heart and soul, hopes and dreams into the work we believe we are called to do. We put our whole selves in. When people are unkind, it cuts, it hurts, we bleed...and we have to do most of that hurting where no one can see. We have to grieve separately, because our task is to offer comfort to others. We have to be the "bigger person" in a conflict, modeling good boundaries and healthy communication, being a non-anxious presence, which means we take our hurt or betrayal elsewhere.

Not that that's good, necessarily--people need to know that they have been hurtful. But the full expression of feelings is generally not what people expect of their pastor. They expect the full expression of the good half of feelings, and a hint of sadness if it's appropriate, but anger and hurt? not so much. We say we want authenticity, but my experience is that we only want that to a point...

So, just a PSA: we care deeply, we have feelings, and we are affected by things said and done (or not done).

**note, this is true not just of pastors but of everyone, so: how about we be kind?**

politics, or theology?

There's lots of chatter this week about Menlo Park Presbyterian Church, which just voted to leave the PCUSA and go to ECO. The vote was overwhelming (93% in favor of leaving). Paired with last week's news that First Presbyterian in Houston's vote to leave failed by 36 votes, it's an interesting study in denominational politics.

Of course, the way MPPC is spinning it is as about theology, not polity. And they are entitled to believe that. Especially with quotes like this one:

...citing a 2011 PCUSA survey that suggested 41 percent agreed with the statement, “Only followers of Jesus Christ can be saved."

I took that survey. And I am one of the 45 percent that marked that I disagree with that statement. Here's why:

It's un-Reformed.

Because the primary theological principle of the Reformed tradition is the Sovereignty of God. There is no way I was going to mark "strongly agree" on something that said "only followers of Jesus can be saved." Because to say that is to limit God's sovereignty. What if God decides to save someone who is not a follower of Jesus during their earthly life? Or is not a follower of Jesus in the way I think they should be? Can God save them? Absolutely yes. It is not my place as a fallible human being to limit God's power.

Jesus said "I have other sheep not of this fold" (John 10). The confessions say that we are to have "good hope for all" (Second Helvetic Confession, chapter 10). How then could we presume to answer an unequivocal yes to any question that states what God can or cannot do?

So yes, Menlo Park is right that this is a theological break. Because they have decided what God can and cannot do, and that is a break from the historic Reformed tradition. I wish them well as they seek another path. May all of us, whatever path the Spirit places us on, find ourselves daily in the presence of God.


**there are of course a variety of factors involved in this decision, ranging from property ownership to LGBT issues to a desire not to be burdened by other mission foci than their own. But this theological issue is the one they have cited as the heart of the problem, so I have taken them at their word.**

assumptions

Yesterday at church we got a call from a young man who was looking for a place he could do 10 hours of community service. Before Thursday.

…

…

And already at this point in the story, everyone to whom I've told it has made some assumptions about this young man.

When I add in his name, which (let's just say) is not a "typical American name" (even though it is), the assumptions solidify. If I told you his skin color, we wouldn't even need to say anything more beyond "required community service" and we'd have a complete picture in our minds.

This is problematic on so many levels.

We'll start with just two things:
1. When did community service become a punishment? And why? I have so many issues with that. Probably its own blog post.

2. Why is our first assumption--often our only assumption--that this young man must have gotten into trouble?

I remember being about his age and filling out my National Honor Society paperwork. At the last minute. And looking at the requirement for community service hours and wondering how to pull that off.

I remember being in seminary and filling out paperwork about myself and wondering if something I technically got paid for, but badly, could still count as "service to the wider church."

A couple of years ago the youth group was doing an Earth Day service project cleaning up trash in a local park, and nearly every conversation we had with community members using the park was about kids "serving their time," not about kids giving back or kids being good citizens or kids caring about their community. Afterward the youth and I talked about that feeling of being stared at like they're criminals, and the assumption that the only reason they would go clean up a city park is because they were paying off some kind of debt to society.

It's possible that this young man needs community service hours for a scholarship, for a Boy Scout requirement, for a club at school, or for his own church. Or it's possible that he's been in trouble--whether of his own volition or by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Why is one of those our go-to thought? (and let's not pretend it isn't…every conversation I've had about this situation has made clear what people's first thoughts are. Even mine, I regret to say.)

A few years ago I was at a David LaMotte event where he said something about "at risk youth" and how that becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, because at-risk always means something bad. No one is ever at risk of being awesome.

What if we--ESPECIALLY those of us in the church, who have been admonished to think about whatever is good, to look for the image of God in one another, to bear one another's burdens--what if we first assumed people were at risk of being awesome?

That's a prophecy I'd love to see fulfill itself. And when this young man comes back to church after school today for another 3 hours, I plan to make sure he knows that's what I expect. :-)

the RevGal Carnival gets games!

This week over at RGBP our carnival is getting a midway--full of fun games to play. We've been asked to ponder a Friday Five--the game we play every week. If I were in charge of creating the Friday Five, what five things would I ask?

Hmm.

Well, given my day yesterday (when I planned to write this blog post but was derailed by a cooking task--did you know it takes an hour to caramelize onions? Holy cow), I think I want your top five potluck recipes. What do you bring when you need to bring a dish to a party, a friend's house, a church potluck, or wherever you might go with food? Recipes always welcome.

Here are my five:

1. Baked Brie. so easy--just a wedge of brie, a can of crescent roll dough (even better if it's the sheet, not the actual crescent rolls), and a jar of raspberry preserves. Delicious every time.

2. puff pastry bites. Also easy but a little more labor intensive. a sheet of Trader Joe's frozen puff pastry dough, cut into 1" squares, topped with some goat cheese crumbles and a split kalamata olive, or chives, sun-dried tomatoes, mushrooms, or whatever you want. bake about 10 minutes and voila!

3. quinoa salad. I don't make this the same way every time, but it's been good every time so far. It starts with cooked quinoa (red or white is fine). Then I add a can (drained) of chickpeas, a diced cucumber and a package of smoked sun-dried tomatoes. I like olives (kalamata, preferably), but it's good without them too. Then you can choose how to dress it. I've used bottled greek dressing with great success. I've also used a combination of pesto and a splash of vinegar (for those who don't eat dairy) and it's turned out beautifully. grind in some black pepper and you're good to go. Chill in the fridge for an hour or so before serving.

4. baked mostaccioli. Just cook some penne or other tubular pasta, put it in a baking dish mixed and covered with sauce (use a vodka cream sauce for amazingness, or just plain old spaghetti sauce). Layer shredded mozzarella about halfway in and on top (so you don't get that problem where once someone eats the cheese off the top, there's no more cheese to be had). Bake it for bout 45 minutes or until it's bubbly and starting to brown. (You may need to make a little foil hat for the dish so the top cheese doesn't burn.)

5. tuxedo chili. so easy, so delicious! Can be made either stovetop or in the crockpot. you just need 2 cans of black beans, 2 cans of great northern (white) beans, 2 cans of rotel, a cup or so of veggie broth, one diced onion, some minced garlic, lots of cumin, and whatever other spices you want. Drain 1 of each of the beans and leave the other with liquid. Saute the onion and garlic in the pot. Add all the other ingredients, including tons of cumin. You may want other spices, like chili powder or smoked paprika, or a few dashes of liquid smoke or something. Simmer, stirring frequently, at least 30 minutes. Even better if you can let it go longer, but who are we kidding, most of us make this stuff at the last minute. If you're using a crockpot, keep it on low for the day. When ready to serve, squeeze some lime juice into the chili. serve with crusty bread. (I also like mine topped with a sprinkle of cheese...)


Why is this my FF choice today? Well, because yesterday I went to a potluck and I took--are you ready?--a zucchini and caramelized onion frittata. It sounded so easy, and like a good choice because it could be served room temperature. This is how I learned that it takes an hour to caramelize onions, and then 45 minutes to bake a quiche. what???? It was delicious, but wow.

Wednesday Interesting

yeah, last week I got distracted and didn't post all the cool stuff I came across. It happens.

Therefore, this week is a REALLY LONG post. But seriously, everything's awesome. Save it for your day off or when you need a brain break or something.

Obviously, this week's news is heavy on Trayvon Martin/George Zimmerman/race/guns/etc. The whole situation is so horrifying I don't even really know where to begin. So instead I'll point you to just three things. One is a reflection on the sad reality of life for too many people. One is a reflection by a friend and fellow clergy woman, on the ways that white women (like both of us) play into this story. Otis Moss III is my secret (not anymore) preacher crush. That man can bring a word to just about any situation.


Meanwhile, there might be hope--if we can figure out how to let our kids grow up before we either kill them or ruin them:


While we're on the subject of race and class and opportunity and whatnot, you need tissues for this one. Read it AND watch the video. Seriously--it's worth your time. There aren't a lot of good news stories these days, so you need this.

"'Things like this don't happen to kids like us,' he cried on that unimaginable night, his face beaming bronze, his tears soaking into my shoulder. And he is right. Blind and legless kids from the ghettos don't get college educations and shiny accolades, but they should. And that is why I stayed. Because hope and love and rejoicing and redemption can happen to kids like them."

And in case you were thinking "well, at least we got the women thing sorted out"...watch this. The title "what every woman already knows" is exactly right. There's more to the world than what those in power experience.

There's also more to our experience than we may have thought before. Turns out that some of the external factors of our lives influence our genes in ways that can be passed on to the next generation. So interesting to think about! (and gives new meaning to the business about our sins being visited on our children.)

While we're thinking about things that shape and form who we are, this is a beautiful reflection on church--one of the last places for multi-generational experience. How do we ensure that we are able to speak to multiple generations, formed by such different experiences, with the same gospel?

How do we minister with and to people whose lives and faith are shaped by this emerging new world, who need a form of faith that answers the questions that arise in this new world? How do we at the same time and within the same congregation minister with and to people shaped by a fading world, who respond to a form of faith that was shaped by that world? How do we do both without tearing ourselves or each other apart?

One start would be to not be dismissive of either younger or older generations. While this is pretty snarky, it's also right on when it comes to the experience many of us are having. (says this member of the X-Millennial bridge) Please stop putting "young people" down. For starters: it doesn't make "us" want to listen or engage. Shaming never works, it just shuts people down.

And while we're at it, maybe we could contemplate ways to be an actual community full of kind compassionate people? Yes, we're human. That doesn't mean we have license to be mean to one another. If the church's purpose is to "exhibit the kingdom of heaven to the world" (as per the PCUSA Book of Order) then shouldn't we be trying harder to be that?

I firmly believe that by finally dragging our differences and petty arguments into the light of day, it will be a massive first step in breaking our mean habits. For far too long, while we have been waging a war within our own foxholes, the real enemy has had the run of the place. He has been unchallenged because Christ's army is too wounded from friendly fire to even crawl to the battlefield for the real fight. And an enemy who is unopposed is no longer your enemy. He has actually becomes your ruler.

One of the things I spend a lot of time thinking about is language: how do we use it, what's correct and what's emerging and where do those trajectories meet, what are we saying when we use particular words or phrases? This is one of the reasons I am a proponent of inclusive and expansive language. But the pesky English pronouns....


There's some really cool stuff going on in the world, in addition to all the drama and horror of life. Check this out--there could one day be streets that eat pollution! I just think that's worth more exclamation points. !!! Of course, the ideal is a world in which we're not producing pollution, because we've moved beyond fossil fuels. But one thing at a time, right?

Also, gorillas were observed learning and applying their knowledge in the wild.  So cool. And I confess there's a part of me that wants to say something like "take that, evolution-deniers." But that's neither kind nor helpful, nor exactly accurate. But still. Cool.

For everyone who's forgotten, Egypt is still happening. While some days are promising and other days terrifying, this article (admittedly 10 days old now--what happens when I skip a week) is a pretty good meta-analysis. Thought-provoking too, about the consequences of approaching things this way. (As an aside: please remember that our own revolution took over a decade to solidify into a constitutional government, and we weren't even being watched every second on the internet. Why do we expect others to happen overnight?)

"The price Egypt has paid and will pay for the consequences of this decision are too high. It has created a generation of Islamists who genuinely believe that democracy does not include them. The post-June 30 fallout reaffirms this belief, especially with Islamist channels and newspapers closed down, as well as leaders detained and held incommunicado, apparently pursuant to an executive decision. For 30 years, Mubarak told them that due process is not for them, and a popular revolution is confirming that. It is Egyptian society that will pay the price of the grievances this causes, and the fact that, with a silenced media and no coverage from independent outlets, they have been left with virtually no channels to get their voice heard."

This column beautifully weaves together a typical day at the beach and a reflection on our calling and responsibility as people of God. Love it.

And, last but never least, a treat for those who made it to the end. Today is the anniversary of the opening of Disneyland! I heart Disneyland, and while I never see anyone dressed this way there anymore (how would you go on rides in those skirts???), it's fun to see how much is the same and how much has changed in nearly 60 years. Not to mention the celebrities. :-)
 

Carnival of Surprises

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!