Daily Texts

Every day, I receive the Moravian Daily Text in my email. Today's was one of those give-you-goosebumps, Spirit-filled types (edited down to the goosebump part):

Saturday, December 30

So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries
of its own. Matthew 6:34

God of Peace, we are grateful for the reassurance that you
provide for all that we need. Help us to not be anxious about
today or tomorrow or any day, for your grace is sufficient.
Grant us the faith to trust in you unwaveringly. Amen.

Aaaahhhh, home

We're home. Home. Whenever I use the phrase in relation to a place, I think of (get ready for this...) Carolyn Ingalls in the early days of Little House on the Prairie telling Charles lovingly and with starry eyes, "My home is wherever you are." And, in many ways, Carolyn was right. Home is where my husband and children are. Yet, we live the phenomena known to so many of today's Americans - the rest of our family does not live in the same city nor anywhere near where we live. And where they live is also a form of home.

In some ways, home will always be Portland, Oregon. It's hardwired in my blood (remember that post awhile back about my semi-famous ancestor?). As we drive down streets and highways, a plethora of memories erupt. There are historic associations with nearly every passing landmark:

• There's the 7-Eleven by my mom's house where I grew up. My friends used to buy me a candy bar if I'd walk there with them and use my math prowess to make sure Fran the cashier didn't rip them off.
• There's the Sellwood Bridge over the Willamette River where we spread my father-in-laws ashes. Each time we cross that bridge, we say hi to Pops...and to our dead cats, Hannah and Hobbes (that was Minky's addition). Driving over that bridge a few years ago, Minky told us he'd met Pops in heaven then he shared what Pops had told him there. Amazingly, he used phrases and words that only Pops would have used.
• There is the mall by the house where I grew up. It used to be swampland, and I remember when the mall was built. I also remember trying to sneak off the junior high bus to go shopping after school, and the militant bus driver who only let us off at the mall if we had a note or if it was our designated stop.
• On the way down from Seattle, we passed through what used to be a tiny little town that is now bursting with retail options. Some things change when you move away, and they stand out like a sore thumb because life is no longer the way you left it when you sailed away on new adventures.
• And there's the traffic and the sheer land mass of a metro area holding over 1 million people. Some things we may be used to, but I can't say we miss them.
• Of course, there are the long term friendships and the family and the people who knew you when and love you anyway. There are the stories you love to remember and the ones you'd prefer to forget. There are the moments you find yourself transferred back to the years of being the annoying little sister or to the glory days of college memories as you admit to friends that you found a paper in the storage unit entitled, "The Benefits of Being on a Fraternity Court."
• And, home, what would it be without a Starbucks on every block and a Coffee People always nearby? And the folks who work at these coffee shops know what a venti half-caf peppermint mocha should taste like. Aaaahhh, it's good to be home.

So how does it feel?

Last night, my friend asked me how it feels to finally be a pastor. I was quick to remind him I'm not quite a pastor...yet. A few days left to go... Nonetheless, it was an intriguing question. Amidst packing up the house in Dubuque, making plane reservations, packing suitcases for our trip out West, actually undertaking our trip out West, and arriving on the ground running headlong into a very full agenda, how it feels hadn't really occurred to me.

Others seem more impressed with this latest accomplishment than I. They remind me that I've been in school, either part-time or full-time, since January 2000...or is it January 2001?...nobody seems to remember. They remind me of the at-the-time drama of transferring schools after a stint in the South proved to be extreme culture shock for a liberal-tie dye wearin'-anything but traditional Pacific Northwest girl. Lots of upheaval, they say. Lots of challenge. Look at all I've overcome, they admire. My mentor pointed out to me that a lot of my firsts have been full of challenge and unexpected twists. Hopefully this trend won't carry over to first call.

I tend to meet these comments with a "hummmmm, hadn't really thought of it that way" response. Sure, at the time, these challenges were, well, challenging. Somehow, though, perhaps in a mad dash and attempt to maintain sanity, I've learned to make sense of it all. The experience in the South helped me understand what it's like to be a foreigner in a foreign land, and now, I can treasure the South and love it for what it is. Transferring schools provided me an opportunity to self-advocate as which-classes-there count for which-classes here discussions arose. I've learned a great deal about myself, like I tend to ask with the viewpoint that "if they don't want to do this, they'll say no" approach. Transferring schools was one of the wisest things I ever did, but I'm finally at a point where I can treasure the year of learning, pain, struggle and disillusionment that preceded it.

I suppose if there is anything that I feel I've overcome in the last 5 or 6 years, it would be the parenting of a special needs child and of his please-don't-make-him-a-lost-child brother. For me, the transformation that I've experienced from being Sony and Minky's mom is both my greatest accomplishment and greatest challenge. There have been many tearful times, many deserts of hopelessness, many oases of promise, many experiences of nearly every emotion and feeling on the spectrum. For me, this is my proudest, yet ongoing, accomplishment. The other stuff is all accessory, all on the sideline, all something I did while I've attempted to live into the realities of an ever-changing scenery known as motherhood.

A Little Ordination Humor

I asked my friend Should Be a Professor, if he was willing to read one of the admonitions at my ordination. Here's his reply:

Which one?
"Don't run with scissors"
"Don't annoy the secretary"
"The quilters and the altar guild are the center of activity, know them well."
"Chew with your mouth closed"
"Pray early, Pray often."
"A pastor must have a passion for the Passion"
"It is more about Jesus than it is about you."
"You will be wrong."
"Learn the names."
"Keep records of everything" (visits, miles, conversations, plans, prayers)
"Take the authority of the office and use it well."
"The world is not made up of good and bad people but rather of bad people on different sides."
"The most important person in the parish is not a member of the congregation."
"Drink no more than one beer at social gatherings."
"Teach the kids 'pin the tail on the youth leader'."

There are so many admonitions, I do not know which one to read, but I would be happy to do so .

My Last Carpool

This morning marks the last time I gathered scattered, beloved neighborhood children into the minivan and drove the 4 minute ride to the school. Over the last 3 1/2 years, I've probably driven this route at least 400 times. Some rides have been full of noise, others full of pushing, others full of silence, and still others somewhere inbetween all this fullness. I've talked with 5th and 6th graders in the front seat about the struggles of adolescence and unforgiving teachers, rubbed fuzzy mittens in little Erica's face to hear her to giggle, heeded Minky's requests for music or no music, chased rogue dogs back into the house for kids heading to the van, and always made a point to ask the quietest kid in the bunch about their day.

Amidst the craziness of graduate school pressures and schedules, carpool has always been a certainty. For a brief moment in the day, I've been able to turn off all the other noise of life and simply be with great kids. I will certainly miss the predictible chaos and company of my morning companions.

This could be funny

If Minky wasn't my child, this would be hilarious. As it is, it's disgusting and makes me roll my eyes.

I just walked by the laundry room only to find Minky peeing in the cat's litterbox. I'm so proud.

My Spirited Child

I'm not sure who fired who, but Minky is now officially done with the reading tutor. It's a story for another time...maybe I'll edit this post and add it later.

Anyway, after the smoke cleared, Minky and I went for a drive so he could have some space. Fifteen minutes later, I pulled into a relatively empty parking lot and went to the back of the van to talk with him. Initially, we decided together that he wanted to do joint compressions (it's an occupational therapy thing for sensory-challenged kids, we do it all the time around here). I massaged one arm and compressed the joints and began to reach for the second arm only to find Minky uncooperative. I looked at him and gently said, "You need to cooperate with me, bud, I'm all you've got right now." He looked up at me with those big blue eyes and answered matter-of-factly, "No, Mommy, I've also got my spirit."

Thanks, God, for reminding me you were part of the puzzle.

There are some things you just don't lose

like your mortgage paperwork that needs to be sent to the benevolent company willing to lend you thousands of dollars. Yep...that's right, I can't find it. All I want for Christmas is a really efficient, forgiving and patient secretary.

Sometimes You Just Feel Like Blogging

Call it procrastination, call it loyalty to ones readers, call it avoidance of box packing...whatever it is, today I just feel like planting myself at my beloved desk in front of my beloved laptop and writing. No particular subject comes to mind...somehow I'll fill the space. Hopefully, it'll be worth reading.

When I look at the calendar, the move seems to be fast approaching. Even though we'll move on January 3rd, we actually need to be fully boxed and packed by the 23rd of December, prior to our trek to the ordination site. I've turned down substitute job offer after substitute job offer with the excuse that the box packing must be done in earnest. However, as you can see, here I am blogging. And when I'm not blogging, I'm taking cats to the vet, having lunch with Rab on a regular basis (boy, that's been nice), and running errands that seem to take up more of my day than they really require.

I've been razzing Rab that he's in denial about the whole move. It wasn't until yesterday that he shared the news with his bosses. He kept telling me he was waiting for the final congregational vote. Sometimes, though, I have to wonder if he was secretly hoping the vote might go the other way. He is truly supportive and happy for me - that's not the issue. I think he's a bit tentative about moving to a small town and being a celebrity-of-sorts. Rab is an introverted, big city kind of guy. He'd prefer to fade into the scenery anonymously. Going to some Cheers-like city where everybody knows your name is a bit uncomfortable for him - especially when they'll know his name and he won't know any of theirs. Once we move, he'll continue to work in our current city 3 days a week. While that will help financially, it will likely also slow his assimilation at Jerusalem.

Last night, Sony and I talked about the move. It nearly breaks my heart to talk to him about it. I can't imagine moving at the age of 10. For all the "kids are resilient" assurances those who moved as children provide, in my heart of hearts I remember that one of my greatest fears as a child was having to move (we never did...in fact, Mom still lives in that house). Sony is trying to be so positive and logical, saying things like "I know I'll make all sorts of new friends just like I did when we moved here." I admire his optimism, but I also worry that he has the space to tend to his grief. He has such wonderful friends here and has had such a positive experience living at the Castle. Yes, it's true, he will be fine. I know that. He knows that. It doesn't mean it won't be tough. It doesn't mean it won't be full of grief for awhile. Last night, I saw a glimpse of honesty as he uttered the words, "I don't want to leave my friends here. I've got so many great friends and I love it here." These words were uttered in true Sony I'm-protecting-my-mom style....with a smile on his face. I love him. In many ways, he is my role model - full of grace and compassion.

Minky? Well, he seems to be doing ok. Rab and I have become Minky cheerleaders and that seems to have eased his anxiety a bit. We shower him with praise when he does his homework, I give him backrubs to help him wake up in the morning (and finish off those dreams so we don't have another Tazmanian Devil experience), we've taken to turning off the TV at opportune moments and intentionally spending quality time with him (and Sony) doing puzzles, playing games and the like. It's almost always a delicate, walking on eggshells balance with the Minkster...but the week seems to have gone along without too much drama.

The boxes are beginning to call out to me. They are feeling empty and untended. I best be filling them with treasured possessions now. Or, at least, I should call the doctor and ask for an anti-hallucinogenic.

What I Should Be Doing

What I'm doing: updating my blog and obsessing about finances
What I should be doing: packing boxes

What I was doing an hour ago: buying my cat another toy along with her new bag of food
What I should have been doing an hour ago: buying my cat food and saving $3.49 by resisting the urge to buy another cat toy

Why Today is a Good Day

Our morning started out horrendous. Minky was woken up during a dream and he stewed and spit and hollered his way through the first 45 minutes of his day. He was carried to the carpool van. It was ugly. At 8:15 a.m., I call Rab and asked him if he wanted to go out for a drink NOW!

The day became progressively better. How could it not?! I caught up on blog reading, printed the rest of my ordination announcements and envelopes, had lunch with Rab at Los Aztecas (yum!), went on a quest to find materials for a scroll for my ordination, and found a cool magazine at Borders called Old-House Interiors. Man, they publish magazines for everything! I'm hoping this one inspires us as we decorate the Cute Gray House. The entire errand event was met with the croonings of Jimmy Buffett and my new Wrigley Field CD.

I also mailed the ordination announcements. I kind of feel like a bride who has taken one of those final pre-wedding steps and realizes that there's no backing out now. Then I dropped off an ordination announcement at the Castle. They post them on a bulletin board there. Seeing the lit Christmas tree in the hallway, I proposed my announcement be adorned in blinking lights.

When I arrived home, not only did I find the latest Oprah magazine awaiting me, but I found a Christmas card from my alma mater and a new Coldwater Creek catalog. How much better does it get than this?!

The First Test

About 2 or 3 hours after his initial call to tell me that the vote was affirmative, the congregational president called again. As I already knew, it seems that nearly everyone in the congregation already knows where I'll be living. Aaahh...small town life. His call had to do with this new address.

One of the ladies of the congregation had called to tell him that the house we are buying is on a street where 2 registered sex offenders live. As we spoke, I got the impression that both he and she were not only concerned but were also guessing that I'd be looking for another home.

Now, this information is serious. I don't take it lightly. I also appreciate the congregation's investment in me and my family and their concern for our well-being. Just the same, I am a survivor of sexual assault, so I feel uniquely qualified to weigh in on this topic. As a messenger of God's grace and forgiveness and as someone devoted to living in hope, I cannot with good conscience choose to flee elsewhere. What message does it send to the already-outcast if the new pastor runs in terror at news of mistakes past? What kind of witness does it send if the pastor lives in fear?

Both my husband and I are clear that we will move into our Cute Gray House as planned. We will be wise as serpents and gentle as doves as we encounter our neighbors-with-pasts. Yes, we'll watch the kids a bit more closely and we'll be a bit more alert. Yet, hopefully, our decision to live in the Cute Gray House will send a loud and clear message regarding how Christ calls us to encounter people with skeletons in their closets. Afterall, in one way or another, isn't that each of us?

It's official!

By the grace of God and

the call of the Church

SKDO

will be ordained

to the Ministry of Word and Sacrament

in Christ’s one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church

Sunday, the thirty-first of December

in the year of our Lord

two thousand and six

at two o’clock in the afternoon

St. Luke Lutheran Church

6835 SW 46^th Avenue

Portland, Oregon

the Reverend Paul Swanson

Bishop of the Oregon Synod

Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, presiding.

Your prayers and presence are requested.

All ordained, consecrated and commissioned

ministers are invited to process.

The color of the day is red.

Cool ordination plans

I need your help, folks. Weigh in your opinions and feedback on the quotes below. Here's the background:

Throughout the week, I've been in touch with so many friends in Portland. One pastor, who was the pastor where I did my first fieldwork, has given me some incredible ideas. At her ordination, she chose a few extra admonitions* that were meaningful to her. She suggested I consider doing likewise. She also had people present her with meaningful trinkets symbolizing her unique call. So, when I haven't been driving someone to the doctor this week, I've been pondering quotes and symbols. [* admonitions are the charges given to the newly ordained pastor to remind them what they are supposed to focus upon and be about]

So far, I'm considering the following additional admonitions. There are too many good ones out there and winnowing these down to 2 or 3 is tough. Any opinions?

"I beg you...to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer..." - Rainer Maria Rilke

"Be avid. Create apart from perfection. Risk failure. Cover your words with sweat. Excruciatingly touch. Laugh until you cry. Dance with your eyes closed. Understand you die a little every day. Be enlivened." - m.a.r. hershey

"Silence is God's first language; everything else is a poor translation. In order to hear that language, we much learn to be still and to rest in God." - Thomas Keating

"You have a solemn obligation to take care of yourself because you never know when the world will need you." - Rabbi Hillel

"Do not look back in anger, or foward in fear, but around in awareness." - James Thurber

"Anytime the Gospel is used to harm rather than to set free, it is no longer the gospel."

"The journey may take you through roads long and weary, may lead you through nights long and cold, but.... you can move mountains by singing the song of your soul. Sing til the end, dance from the start, raise your hands and your heart, and sing."

"It’s an illusion to believe that anything can make the road smooth, without potholes, and that you can make the journey without getting shabby and uncomfortable. Transitions invite us to make a space for God on the journey, to let go of the reins and be creative in new ways. Be willing to become sacramentally dirty as you undertake your ministry." (All but last sentence, Debra Farrington)

"Love yourself, if that means rational, healthy, and moral self-interest. You are commanded to do that. That is the length of life. Love your neighbor as you love yourself. You are commanded to do that. That is the breadth of life. But never forget that there is a first and greater commandment, Love the Lord thy God with all thy heart and all thy soul and all thy mind. This is the height of life. And when you do this, you live the complete life." - Martin Luther King, Jr.


The gifts have been a fun endeavor. Rab says I'm only doing it so I can get presents. He's silly and funny but not right. I love symbolism and these items hold great meaning. I'm considering the following items:

A pottery fountain representing God's call to lead others to Living and Life-giving Water

A sculpture of two hands representing hospitality, care, and ecumenical/inter-faith relationships

A soap stone sculpture of a family joined hand in hand representing both the call to my own family and as a pastor to children and families

A scroll and cool pen representing a call to the ministry of writing.

I also considered a Now watch to remind me to live in the present moment, but then I found out there's kind of a New Agey thing going on with them, so now I'm not so sure. I'm also pondering one of those joined-hands candle things for the ecumenical/inter-faith deal.

Oh, one last thing: Last night while Rab and I were out to eat, my ordination preacher (the pastor who baptised me, confirmed me, and presided at our wedding) called to run his sermon ideas by me. This man has been kind of a pastor-on-a-pedestal figure to me most of my life, so the experience of having him run his sermon by me was pretty unreal. His ideas, just as I would have suspected anyway, are fantastic. I can't wait to hear the final words!

Quick! Somebody call Marcus Welby, M.D.!

This week, I have driven over 500 miles, 400+ of them for medical reasons:

On Monday, I took Minky to LaCrosse for vision therapy and reading tutoring

On Tuesday, I took Minky to his awesome psychiatrist in Cedar Rapids

On Wednesday, I took Sony to the doctor because his knee was bothering him (dx: post-strep complications)

On Thursday, I took the cat to the vet because he was being a brat. The vet discovered that the cat had a nasty abcess.

On Friday, I drove to Jerusalem for the house inspection on the Cute Gray House (all checks out well. I met the current owner and then my realtor took me out to lunch!)

My minivan is a fine, functional companion, but all this driving is getting a bit ridiculous.

Oh yeah, and also on Friday, Rab drove Sony back to the doctor to find out that the strep is back, drove cat #1 to the vet to have the abcess rechecked and while there, cat #2 came hobbling down the stairs with an injured front leg. Rab returned home and took cat #2 to the vet then brought both cats back home.

Roller coasters are part of the deal

This is another thing I would have told the mom in the waiting room today: that some days are nothing but a roller coaster. One minute, you're encouraged and you're hopeful, the next minute (or hour), you're so desperate that you can't even begin to consider your own emotions. Yesterday, as Minky adamantly refused to finish his homework on the way to LaCrosse, I wrote this as tears fell down my cheeks:

I’m too tired to swim up river today,

To care when you don’t,

To encourage when it’s met with scorn

To make excuses for your resistance.

Earlier today, those words felt so far away - we'd had a great check up with the vision doctor yesterday that showed promising results and then we had a promising appointment with the psychiatrist today. Since then, however, I have literally spent 6 hours trying to get Minky to do his homework. Six hours. For the most part, I've been patient, encouraging, and good humored. He and I both lost our tempers for about 45 minutes. I went to Target to buy Play Doh that would serve as a reward when the work was done. It just caused further problems.

Now Rab is working with him. After 10 minutes, he's feeling frustrated. I can't blame him, but I also feel like screaming, "Welcome to my world!!!!" Sometimes Rab wonders why Minky isn't done with his homework by 5pm in the evening. Answer: because regardless of when we start it, it's a multi-hour venture.

Watch out Veruca!

Minky was watching Charlie and the Chocolate Factory on his DVD player in the van last night. The movie was at the part where Veruca is whining about everything and howling out, "But I waaannttt it nnnnowwwwww, Daddy." Minky rolled his eyes and said, "Mommy, if I were Veruca's Daddy, I would duct tape her mouth shut."

Prayers...I've been where you are

Today, I lift up prayers for the red-headed mom with the blonde little girl in the psychiatrist's waiting room this morning. As I sat down and Minky headed to his regular spot in the waiting room, this mom hesitantly struck up a conversation with me. Looking back, I'm pretty sure this was her first experience of taking her little girl to a psychiatrist.

"Do....do....do they provide you with notes of the discussion?" she asked as she saw me reviewing paperwork.

"Oh these? These are for something completely different and unrelated," I responded warmly but unengaged.

"What do they do? I mean...you've been here before? How does this work? Have they helped you with your son?" she continued after a pause, grasping her daughter's coat almost as if it were a blankie.

I answered her as best I could, at first not realizing that she was new to this whole shtick. I provided too much of the wrong information and not enough of the information that will get her through the day today. Just as I figured out her experience level and some of her needs, the doctor called her to come to her office. Like that, she was gone.

I wanted to yell out, "Wait! There's so much she needs to hear!" I wanted to tell her that there will be days she has no idea how she'll cope for another moment (she likely already knows this...), but that caring professionals do exist and will help. I wanted to share our experiences of experimenting with medications, of living in trial-and-error mode, of wiping the diagnostic slate clean and starting anew when the hoped-for answer to all our problems ended up being the wrong diagnosis. I wanted to hug her and hold her and reassure her that being a special needs mom never stops, but it is a vocation full of as much blessing as challenge.

I wanted to be able to hand her a card with my e-mail, a list of a bunch of great websites, a chance to ask all the questions that never seem appropriate for the doctor. I wanted to make sure she knew that she isn't required to go through this with fear nor by herself. But, just like that, she was gone.

So prayers, prayers, prayers for you, dear mom in the waiting room. Prayers for strength, prayers that God might catch all of your tears and calm your rampant fears, prayers that your little girl obtains the medical interventions she needs and that you, dear mom, are able to find hope in the midst of the foggy realities of special needs parenting.

Almost fired at age 7

This afternoon, TT almost got fired by his reading tutor. Seriously. I’m not kidding. His refusal to sound out words that he was writing and to cooperate with instructions landed him as recipient of an honest to goodness lecture and ultimatum.

When the tutor first paused and then said, “Do you want to be here, TT?” I thought, “Oh this should be good…” I thought maybe the teacher was doing some sort of Jedi-reading-tutor-mind- game and knew what he was doing. As the words and discussion continued, I began to wonder and to worry that TT was going to be fired. Fired at 7 years old. What a resume.

The tutor led up to the ultimatum, “Either work with me or let’s be done with this. You’re not doing the homework, you’re not cooperating with my instructions. Let’s just be honest,” he said. “You need to do what I ask and you need to want to be here or otherwise, why bother?” I began to think, “This is really not good.” And inside, I was screaming, “NO! Don’t give him an ultimatum. He’ll only answer back with threats! We’ve tried this at home – it doesn’t work! STOP!!!"

Then the teacher asked TT why he didn’t like reading and wouldn’t accept “because” as an answer. The tutor began to answer the question himself in a creative way, “I’ll bet that sometime when you were first learning to read, somebody, maybe even a teacher, made fun of your reading and you decided you weren’t going to do it anymore…I’ll bet some other student giggled at the way you said a word or made fun of your reading so you made your mind up that ;you just didn’t need to learn to read. But the truth is, almost any job you want to do when you grow up will need you to be a good reader. And when you work with me, you can be a good reader. I know how to help you and I want to help you, but only if you work with me.” In those moments of truth, something happened. Somewhere between the litany of truisms about TT’s lack of work ethic and the tutor’s other words about how lucky TT really is because he actually understands the work and comprehends the assignments very quickly when he applies himself, something clicked.

The teacher reiterated that TT was very, very smart – smarter than most kids his age – and that his vision problem, which is getting so much better, is what caused the problem. Even if someone ever called him stupid or even if TT himself thought he was stupid, we all knew it wasn’t true. TT is a very intelligent, smart kid with eyes that don’t work the way they should. Suddenly, TT sat a little taller.

A few minutes later, he was actually smiling and laughing as he read Owl at Home. He was smiling even as his feet were wrapping all over the chair legs as a sign of his great anxiety. He was reading, truly, better than we had ever heard him read before. And he was enjoying it!

I can only pray that a permanent effect continues to be shown. Even so, he glimpsed the truth – the good, the bad, and the painful honest truth. For a turnaround moment in time, TT understood that he is a brilliant boy full of potential if only he trusts those who care about him.

As we got in the van, after the end of reading therapy, an hour plus break at Burger King playland and then a stint with the vision therapist (that went great, thank God!), I said, "I'm really glad you are in such a good mood and had such a good session with Laura (the vision therapist)." TT answered, "Yeah, me too. You know, Mom, when Mr. E got so frustrated with me, at first I thought, 'I don't want to work with him anymore.' but then I did. I don't know how it changed, but it did."

Tag, I'm it

Cool. Susan has tagged my blog. My first tag. At this point, it's cool. If the rest of you begin inundating me with tags, it could get old. ;)

So I'm supposed to tell you 6 weird things about me. That shouldn't be hard...I'm kind of weird anyway. Although I tend to prefer the terms funky, ecclectic, and creative. Now what haven't I already told you, my dear readers, that would make for an exciting tag?

1. I have an "I'm a Native Oregonian" obsession. See, few of the people who live in Oregon were actually born there - the Californians inundated Oregon in the 80s and 90s and tried to take it over. Much of Oregon is made up of transplants. I, though, am a 4th generation native Oregonian. My great-great-grandfather, Francois Xavier Matthieu (old dude in the center), was actually involved in the decision about Oregon's statehood. He was born in French Canada in 1818 and was an early Oregon pioneer. He voted for the first provisional government in Oregon and my grandparents always told me he was the deciding vote. He also survived all the other voters and, when he died, the DAR placed a bronze plaque at Champoeg Park to old Frank that says "To honor one of those patriots who on May 2, 1843 at Champoeg saved the Oregon country to this nation." So I'm not only a native, I'm like an Oregon version of the Daughters of the American Revolution Native. He was in the Oregon Legislature and he even renamed a city (I guess he had the authority to do so...): Oxford became Butteville. Nowadays, Butteville is a teeny tiny town with some cool antique stores. Rab and I even bought some antiques there once. Maybe the tables we bought used to belong to Old Frank...who knows?

2. Speaking of Francois, he was married to an American Indian (or maybe that was his dad...). So, believe it or not for those of you who have seen my Scandanavian skin, I am 1/16 (or 1/32 if I'm off a generation) American Indian - just enough to not benefit from the great Federal Government scholarship opportunities.

3. My dream car is a Jeep Wrangler.

4. I own a sweater that Mark the little brother I never had calls my Magic Carpet Sweater. The first time he saw it, he asked how many magic carpets had to die so I could have the sweater. It's one of my favorite pieces of clothing! In fact, I think I'll wear it TODAY!

5. One of my dream careers is to be an orchestra conductor.

6. One of Rab's pet names for me is Sally - as in When Harry Met Sally - because I like sauces and dressings on the side and because I am high maintenance but like to think of myself as low maintenance.

7. As long as we're talking about food, I'm going to add a 7th weird thing. I tend to eat all of one thing on my plate before moving on to another thing.

Missing the hero

Minky and I were just sitting on the couch watching TV when a preview came on about an interview with the Crocodile Hunter's widow, Teri. Minky became sad and wistfully said, "I wish I'd known Crocodile Hunter...I coulda been his little mate."

It's looking good...

Today, we headed to Jerusalem to meet the congregation and to show the boys our new house. I had expected indifference as a reaction to the new house, but instead, the boys were SO THRILLED with it! They were jockeying for bedrooms and imagining where the TV would go and where they could play Hide and Seek. It was so great. Minky came downstairs and announced that he would take the big room upstairs...as in, the family room. Yeah, dream on, Minky, dream on. Sony helped Rab measure the carriage-house garage (18' x 18' - think we can squeeze 2 cars in there?). I took tons of pictures so I can begin to imagine our stuff inside the house. We will close on the new house and also move on January 3. What a thrilling ride!

After seeing the house, we headed over to Jordan and met many of the folks of the congregation. They are a great bunch. I was able to get to every table for at least a quick chat and many people approached Rab and introduced themselves. The boys not only behaved themselves but also made a few new friends (which makes it SO much easier for them to be happy about the move). It was wonderful to see the boys running around the church as if they already knew the place - they were right at home and nobody seemed to expect them to be perfect-pastor-children, which was wonderful too!

It was a great experience and only made me more eager to begin my ministry there. The Quilters are already planning on visiting more on the 2nd and 4th Tuesdays (or whatever day it is...) and seemed to appreciate my zebra-print scarf with butterflies rather than being put off by it. Then again, there is that Midwest nice thing we contend with in these parts ;) So, I guess I can at least count on them having found me entertaining.

I feel so deeply called to this congregation and these people. They are not perfect - none of us are - yet there is something magnetizing about this place and this group of God's children. I can't wait to be their pastor and they are equally excited. During the call committee interview, I realized that they were not only interested in me in spite of my somewhat creative free spirit, but they are interested BECAUSE of that. Being myself was not only accepted, it was the clincher! That is a great reminder for me in this long journey toward living into my true identity and loving who I am. It feels so freeing to let go of pretense and formality and to simply BE myself.

The Castle has been a great place for me to explore and learn to do that and I believe this congregation will only further reinforce God's call for me to be who I am, fully created in God's image. It reminds me of the story told by Rabbi Gellman*. I've come a long way since those nervous, scared days at my first teaching parish. It was a wonderful place for me to begin to learn these things and I had the honor of having had two wonderful mentors who helped build some solid foundations for how I view and approach ministry. Now, those foundations have only been further built upon.

Oh, and the church sent us home with 2 boxes of left over treats - I guess they've heard that the quickest way to their new pastor's heart is through chocolate and Krum Kake. They are a smart bunch. No wonder I want to be their pastor. ;)

* The Rabbi Gellman story:

The most famous Hasidic story is about Reb Zusia who was crying at his impending death. His Hasidim, gathered around him, were surprised at their master's tears. “You were a great rebbe, you are going to the world-to-come with honor. Why are you crying?” He answered, “Now finally I understand that when I am called before God after I die, God will not ask me, 'Zusia, why weren't you Moses?' God will not ask me, 'Zusia why weren't you Abraham?' God will ask me, 'Zusia, why weren't you Zusia?'

Reindeer Games

The more I ponder the whole bidding war thing, the more at peace I am about walking from the house in the country. The sellers disregarded our deadline date without any communication or apology then spit in our face (admittedly, perhaps they spit back in reaction to our low offer). This afternoon, the realtor sent me their counter-offer even though we are not accepting it. The counter made me all the happier that we've decided not to play their reindeer games. It's all corporate and no humanity. I refuse to give money to such a venture. I'm talking my money back and not playing.

The Cute Gray Charmer, my new name for our new house, is a better investment anyway and the seller is in a situation where our buying the house helps a difficult life situation. It's a win-win and, from what I can tell already, she is approaching the offer with a human mentality. The Charmer was built in 1870 and comes with a home inspection already completed. There are minor, naggy things to fix (like a handrail on the basement stairs heading outside), but nothing major. The Charmer has been rewired, replumbed, has a new water heater, newer AC, new top-of-the-line windows and a tin roof. People tell me the tin roof is a great thing. Regardless, it's cute and seems to fit the house's style. As long as the cat doesn't go on it when it's hot outside, we're in good shape. Get it?

What is your quest?

This morning, I headed out to find Minky a new winter coat. Why is it that every year, the first 20 degree day finds us in a frenzy as we search for matching gloves, a winter coat that actually zips, and a hat? We know the weather is coming, we even begin to hope for a school delay, but somehow, we aren't prepared when the predicted-morning arrives.

I began my quest at Goodwill. You just never know what you'll find there and the prices can't be beat. The Dubuque Goodwill is actually one of the nicest Goodwills I've ever seen. I had no luck in the kid's coat department, but I did find some treasures: 2 cute metal pumpkins for $1.00, a spicerack for $1.00, an Erma Bombeck book for 25 cents, a bunch of kid's books for Minky for 25 cents each, and, the bargain of all bargains, a CD for $2 called Music for Lonely Housewives. The title made it too good to pass up. It's a compilation of great hits from the 70s like One Less Bell to Answer and I Will Survive. I'm going to go hit the disco...ummmm...errr...my minivan stereo now.

PS I found a winter coat for Minky at Kohl's. With my 15% off coupon and today's sale, I got a Nike double layer coat (where one layer can be used independent of the other) for about $40. Not bad, eh?

Let's try this again...

The realtor called me this afternoon. The bank/mortgage company/repo dealer/whoever they are countered our offer. We offered significantly less than the list price and asked for pre-occupancy (moving before we closed). They came down $900 on the list price (basically, they spit in our face) and said no way to pre-occupancy. We hmm'd and hawwed and got increasingly testy.

My initial knee-jerk reaction was to tell the realtor to counter with a figure $10,000 more than our initial offer. When Rab arrived home, we talked and decided we were in love with the location but not the house itself. The list of things we hoped to improve upon grew and grew as we talked about the house more and more. Improvements cost money and if we purchased this house, there would not be a lot of extra funds laying around to pay for all our dreams.

We got out the list with all of my notes about the other houses we saw during our visit. We went between two others - leaning all the while toward one over the other. The clinchers kept coming the more we pondered: The Gray House is more charming, is almost $20,000 less than The Bigger House By The School, seems to be a better home for our dining room set (this damn antique set has caused more problems than it's worth!), and needs fewer changes than any other house on our list (how ironic is that? The house that we can afford to change doesn't need a bunch of changes?!).

Tomorrow, we'll put an offer in on The Gray House. At asking price. Here's a picture of it. Cute, huh?

I'm beginning to get a bit testy

We put our offer in on the 1.6 acre house last Tuesday night. The deadline was yesterday. The realtor has heard nothing and is not calling me back. This is all making me crabby. People! I'd like to buy a house, dammit!

Just in case you ever drive my husband's Pathfinder...

Be careful where you feed the CD as you're driving down a dark country road listening to Minky say everything twice just because he feels like it (yeah, thought I was hearing double...). The area under the ash tray seems to fit a CD just fine. It only took me 25 minutes and the semi-dismantling of the dashboard to realize just where the CD ended up.

Packing boxes

As I sit here before my laptop, I don't have any burning issue or topic on my mind. Lately, it seems like many of my blog posts are simply a running commentary on what I've been doing. I'm not sure how exciting that really is, but I'll share it nonetheless.

Thanksgiving was great. We went to Southern Same Name Lady's and had an absolutely wonderful meal with great company. Rab needs to find out her turkey secret - it was the juiciest turkey I think I have ever had in my life. Yum. SSNL made a couple salads, turkey and wonderful sweet potatoes. Rab made stuffing, cranberry sauce and 2 pies from scratch. By the way, pumpkin pie turns out fine even if you forget the evaporated milk. ;) Joining us in our festivities was a student from Kenya. It was nice to share our American tradition with him.

For the first time in many years, I stayed home on Black Friday and didn't hit the sales. Between Miss Emily not being here to chase down diamond earrings for me and our upcoming move, it just didn't seem prudent. Instead, I stayed in, watched movies like Mona Lisa Smiles on TNT or some other cable channel and packed boxes and more boxes and more boxes. I'm truly almost at the point where nothing more can be packed until closer to our move (which, we're hoping is December 16 but may not be until January 2 - we should know on Monday if we can move into our new house before closing on the 2nd).

Beginning on Friday and continuing into Saturday, I experienced temporary insanity and cleaned out the play room and sorted the toys. I threw out an entire rubbermaid container of broken toys, loose game pieces and Batmen without feet or hands (what exactly does it mean when your 7 year old cuts the feet or hands off his action figures? I'm a little worried here...).

Once again, I headed to my little country church to preach this morning. I really don't get what this is about but every time I like the sermon I leave with, it ends up not preaching as well as I'd hope. The sermons that I think are rotten are usually the best received and have the most impact. This phenomena occurred again today. I left the house with a sermon that I thought was wonderful. Throughout the preaching experience, though, I never sensed that magical moment where people were captivated and thought provoked. At least I had their attention, I guess. It wasn't all bad. It feels sad and weird to know that next Sunday will be my last time with them.

Tomorrow, Minky's reading tutor appointment shifts to 3:15. This means I'll be packing more boxes in the morning (boo) and then I will get to have lunch with my buddy Small Town Girl (yippie!). I'm so excited I could almost scream. AAARRGGH! :)

The pizza guy just brought dinner, so I guess this is goodbye for now. Yep, you just got dumped for 3 $5 medium pizzas from Pizza Hut. Don't worry, I'll be back.

Name calling

Rab just reminded me that I never posted the following story.

Transcript from the other day - Minky mid-fit:

Minky: Idiot!!!!

Me: (ignoring him)

Minky: Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!

Me: (calmly) TT, stop calling me an idiot.

Minky: OK, STUPID!

Me: No name calling, TT.

Minky: Ok, Skdo.

Thankful

I woke up at 6 a.m. this morning...for those who know me well, this is an obvious aberration from my preferred morning routine. I had one of those Sarah MacLaughlin "I'm so tired I can't sleep, standing on the edge of something much too deep" kind of risings. I guess the upcoming move, the still untidy details, and the forthcoming adjustments are weighing heavily on my mind.

As I lay in bed, knowing full well I couldn't get back to sleep, I let my mind wander from panic, short-circuiting levels of detail, and trepidation to today's obvious theme. So in no particular order, here are some nouns (people, place or thing...or, as I just learned subbing in 5th grade awhile back, ideas) I'm thankful for:

* a cadre of eclectic, candid, loving friends who never let me take myself too seriously yet compassionately walk with me in times when seriousness is the order of the day

* my loving husband who just "gets" me in a way few others do. As of November 29, we've been together 20 years.

* Sony, who I would want as a friend even if he wasn't my son. I love watching our relationship change and grow as he does likewise. Sony is a wise old soul with a dry sense of humor and a deep love for people. I'm lucky to know him.

* Minky the Magnificient who lives daily with vision disorders that plague his cerebral input yet still finds a way to be amazingly funny, incredibly compassionate, full of verve and damn adorable. He is the reason I am no longer a perfectionist and boy am I glad about that.

* My quirky, creative, off the wall set of in-laws. We've learned to love one another over the years and I can't imagine life without them. They've taught me a great deal about who I am and who I want to be by simply not accepting my crap and by being themselves.

* My family of origin. Ah, how does one succinctly post about them? A lovingly dysfunctional bunch who truly and deeply love one another but all have different ways of showing it. I'm not sure that any of the 5 of us could be any more different from the rest of us but, somehow, we're part of one unit and I'm thankful for them all...and for all of their offspring.

* my laptop, my cell phone, my Palm pilot and all other convenience electronics

* my friend The Moviemaker who came through with a video camera that plays 8mm tapes when I destroyed my old dinosaur camcorder as I fell down the stairs

* my former neighbor Miss Emily who is sending my new MP3 player all the way from the deep South because our Office Depot ran out of them and hers had one. Oh yeah...and for all the other numerous times she's saved me.

* my wonderful cats. One may think she is a dog and a queen and the other might be annoying about jumping up onto my laptop everytime I'm at my desk, but I really can't imagine life without these little critters. They are steadfast companions who don't talk back and they often make me laugh. When I watch our boys interact with them, I am overflowingly thankful for the cats' patience, love and companionship. They have taken the stress in our home down a notch since they moved in.

* my education, my kids' educations, and my husband's upcoming educational adventures

* a call! An ordination! Seeing my efforts and emotional, financial and mental investments come to fruition.

* medical providers and teachers who have never given up on Minky's complexities and who have tirelessly worked with us and with him.

* the fact that I'm not a Puritan pilgrim (too many rules), didn't have to personally voyage on the Mayflower (too many days on too many waves), and didn't have to live in Plymouth, MA in 1620 (too cold, no electronics, the list goes on and on...)

* my ability and love for writing and the possible writing gigs brewing on my back burners

* God. Yeah, it can sound corny and trite but, really, I'd be nowhere and nobody without God.

Negotiations

Tate the small town realtor called tonight. He had spoken to the seller's realtor and had some details to share with me. The well and septic tests have already been completed, so those won't hold anything up. That is good news. She thought our offer was "a bit low." Tate chuckled and said, "Well...we're open for negotiation," and she promised not to let the sellers reject the offer outright.

The biggest snafu: Both realtors seem to be approaching the move in before closing idea with concern. As a clergyperson, there are amazing tax benefits related to housing. If we close before I'm ordained, we miss out on some big benes. However, we want to move in before we head West for the ordination. We're asking to move in on Dec 16 and to close on Jan 2. I hope this works out. It'll be a real pain if it doesn't.

We'll have news on Monday...stay tuned.

Tonight's adventures brought to you by the letter T

Throats. Telephone. Trust Fund. Tamale the dog. Tate the small town realtor. Timing. It's been quite a night.

Tonight, Rab and I put an offer down on a house via fax and through telephone conversation with Tate the small town realtor. It's 2000 sf on 1.6 acres in the country - 4 bedrooms, big living room, big family room, great laundry/utility room, mud room (!), decent kitchen, standard dining room. The land is the sweet part of the deal - the property line is marked out with large trees all around, there's a circle drive before you get to the driveway for the double car garage, and there's certainly room for a hot tub. We low-balled our offer because the house was repo'ed in 2005. Our CPA told us we probably had some wiggle room. So we wiggled...a lot. We'll see what happens. Rab had to break into the last of the trust fund money he inherited from his dad to make the earnest money payment. It felt weird to know that was the 2nd to last check we'd ever write from what used to be a mighty large sum.

After our conference call, Tate faxed the paperwork up to the Castle. We received it but then the phones went out (again...it's been happening all night) and we couldn't fax back the signed papers. Rab headed to his office to fax them and I was going to walk home. Just then Sister Shana drove up. She was headed to the library to send a fax. I explained the situation, we flagged down Rab and he faxed Shana's paperwork for her. Then she gave me a ride home. How's that for timing?

Now would be a great time to let you know a little about Tate. He is a small town kinda guy. We really like him. He doesn't do computer forms for offers - it's all handwritten. When he showed us around town last weekend, he suggested we follow him in our car because, "couples like to talk about the houses in between each one and if I'm there, you won't talk as much." At each house, we got a quick overview of who the buyers were and what their story was -- this was an entirely unique phenomena to us big city folks. When we were writing the offer tonight, we got to one page and he said, "This is the page that says I gave you the brochure I'm supposed to give you that I haven't given you. Just sign it at the bottom."

Poor Sony has strep throat. He hasn't been in school since last Wednesday and he's the kind of kid who is bummed by that. I keep calling him Ferris (as in Bueller)...he pretends he's not amused but he's laughing inside. Minky had to get a strep culture too, because that's just how our pediatrician is. His came back negative. Kind of like his mood. Just kidding... he's doing great (and I even caught him reading again today! WOW).

Minky and I just got back from letting Tamale the dog out. PMC's former music director had to leave town quickly and his wife called to see if we could watch Tamale until tomorrow night. We've watched Tamale before, so we were a natural choice. Tamale loves being at our house and hanging out with all the kids in the cul-de-sac. She's a cutie. However....grrrrrr....she opened the screen door on her own this afternoon and made a run for it. I had to trek through the burr-infested woods after the little monster. My favorite wool sweater seems to have been burred in vain - my neighbor caught Tamale. I love him. I used to love Tamale but not anymore.

A River Runs Under It

My life lately: Busy, busy, busy, sick kids, sick kids, sick kids, substitute teaching, planning ordination, buying a house, working with synod on negotiation of salary package, meeting with accountant to make sure we can live on said salary package, weekly trek to LaCrosse for TT, falling down stairs and still hurting from it

The longer version:

What hasn't been going on? That's more the question.

CH, now to be called Sony (pron. as the brand name), has been sick since Thursday night. TT, now to be called Minky, convincingly faked illness on Friday. The 3 of us kicked back in my bed and watched Ferris Bueller's Day Off. CH is still sick. We're heading to the doctor in just a bit.

Minky's vision therapy is going remarkably well. Yesterday as we were waiting for his appointment, I actually spied him reading a book! This is monumental. Then a little girl came into the playroom where he was reading and he struck up a conversation with her:

Minky: Are you here because your eyes work funny too?
Girl: Yep. That's why I come here.
Minky: Me too, but my eyes are getting better. They used to be a lot worse.

He would never admit this progress to me or Rab (aka C). This is a huge breakthrough! We are thrilled.

Salary negotiation has been Midwest interesting. The congregation's exec committee didn't understand how to calculate a bunch of stuff, so their initial offer came in over $10K less than it should have. Luckily, the synod has rectified the situation and has told them to pay me for 6 years of experience, given my previous professional life. This is a great thing. Now we can afford to eat.

I met with our new accountant yesterday. I felt pretty stupid after leaving there. Not because of anything he said - he was totally cool and wonderful. It's just that his ability to crunch numbers in his head and put them down coherently onto paper is mind-blowing. He suggested we set up a special plan for me to pay our taxes because I'm not good at saving up throughout the year nor at staying financially organized. Yeah, that's me...the special pastor.

The house offer will actually go in tomorrow. It's a great house - just right for our family. It will be quite a shift for us - the house is in the country and has a well and a septic system. That's all new to me....The house was foreclosed upon in 2005. The accountant says this gives us tons of wiggle room on our offer....the bank is likely very anxious to get the property sold. I searched the Wisconsin court system online today to find out the judgement amount, because the CPA said that is a good number to know during negotiations. I finally found the case number but now I need to head to the courthouse to look at the documents. Fun. More driving.

Substitute teaching is going great. Unfortunately, I had to cancel my jobs on Friday and today because of Sony's illness. I think everyone in the city's school system is Ferris Bueller sick this week - I had over 20 offers to sub today! Geez.

What's been going on...

I'm not sure why I haven't been posting as much lately. I guess I've been busy. My life feels full of small details that steal away my time. Now that the church council at Jordan in Jerusalem voted enthusiastically to forward my name to the congregation, the pace of life has picked up and there's much to be done. Jordan wants me to be their pastor. What a trip.

When I spoke to the council president the other night, he told me that the roof at the church is leaking and that he's planning on resigning (for good reasons that have nothing to do with me or the roof) on February 1. So much for the honeymoon period, huh? ;) I really like the guy - he stopped me mid-sentence at one point and said, "I'm sorry to interupt, but I've just got to tell you what a breath of fresh air you are. You just don't sound like a pastor," he concluded with a mixture of surprise, jubilation and mild contempt for the profession. I took it as the huge compliment he intended.

On Saturday, C and I are headed to Jerusalem to look for houses. It will be an interesting experience. The homes we've owned in the past were in suburbs of a large city. This time, our choices are a bit fewer and further between. Rather than our standard 20 or so tours, it looks like we'll choose from 4 houses. Yep, four, as in 1-2-3-4. We're in for some life changes with this whole small town deal. I was telling Yoda about that today and he just giggled. "Yep," he said, "you are in for some dramatic shifts in your life...heh, heh, heh."

On another note, Paul Shepherd spoke at the Castle last night. He's a writer and he spoke about the topic "wrestling with God." I'm so glad I went. He read from his book, More Like Not Running Away. I'd recommend it. His lecture and the discussion that followed were enlightening. I appreciated hearing about theological issues from a novelist's point of view and I was also intrigued by a behind-the-scenes glimpse of the profession of writing. Someone asked him what message he hopes his writing conveys and he said, "Believing matters. Faith can cross big caverns of doubt and darkness." That's cool.

I've also been substituting a lot. I've become known in a couple of the local elementary schools, which is a mixed blessing. The other day, when I turned down a job request through the automated system, the school secretary called me personally and begged. The experience was a mixture of ego boost and exhaustion. Yeah, I took the job, but I told them I could only work 9-2 instead of 8-3. Somehow, that helped me not feel so put out about going in on my self-imposed day off. In the class (1st grade), the kids were talking about how the city has changed...new people, new businesses, etc. One kid, who just moved here, said his favorite new development was the mixture of his 2 favorite places, McDonalds/Walmart, into one building. When the teacher said our town didn't have such a thing, he said with resilient confidence, "Well, then when I grow up, I'm going to create it." Right on, little man!

Key to all the people in this blog

It's gotten to the point where I can't keep all the code names straight. Alas, here is my key - for both you the reader and me the writer. I'm sure I've left a few out, but they can always be added later.

Mrs. Awesome and the whole Awesome gang - PMC's family. They rock. They are fun, they are funny, they are entertaining, and we love 'em.

Future Bishop - my wise partner during our senior year. We served together as Co-Presidents of the student body. I was the daring mouth willing to advocate in meetings with the mucky mucks, he was the brains of the operation. He has the uncanny ability to keep me grounded and focused when I get all in a dither.

The Hospitables - These guys were our neighbors 2 years ago and are among the most wonderful Wisconsinites you'd ever meet. They hosted us numerous times this past summer as we trekked to LaCrosse for TT's vision therapy. You can read more about them here.

Journey Girl - my California friend who became my bud when we both lived in Oregon. I truly don't know what I'd do without her - she was one of two friends who dared to call my post-partum depression what it was and then to not leave my side as it seemingly devoured me. I love this woman!

The Kindhearteds are a solid, upbeat family in the Castle neighborhood. Mr. Kindhearted heads up the youth ministry efforts for the Castle kids and does a mighty fine job of it. Mrs. Kindhearted has saved me when I was at the end of my rope with TT and CK, their son, is a great kid. KK, Mr. and Mrs. Kindhearted's daugher, used to babysit our kids all the time before she turned 15 and got a life. We still adore her, though! The Kindhearted's helped out with TT's vision therapy for awhile and it was a tremendous help. This family is one of those family's you feel lucky to know.

Little Mister - Journey Girl's son, who will grow up to be a lobbyist. We've seen this career move coming since he was under 2. This kid cracks me up.

Mark the Little Brother I Never Had - Ah, Mark, he's great. He comments on my blog a lot. I like that about him. He already got a whole post dedicated to him, you can read it here.

The Mentor Women - when I began discerning a call to ordained ministry, the Bishop and my pastor both suggested I connect with some female pastors. I was lucky enough to meet up with these ladies and learn a great deal from them.

Ozzie and Harriett - a play on my neighbor's last name, these guys are your salt of the earth, Leave It to Beaver type family in all the best possible ways. Their kids are great friends with CH and TT, and Harriett is patient enough to have been in my carpool for 3 years. That deserves a medal.

PMC - PMC was a senior at the Castle when I transferred to the Castle as a 2nd year student. He saw me through systematic theology, built me up when I tore myself down, and along with his wife, Mrs. Awesome, helped out with TT when we had to pull him out of his preschool because we figured out it was a horrible setting. PMC likes to be funny, but he can also be an amazing theologian, a caring pastor, and a steady, loving friend.

Seminary Friend - now a pastor in North Dakota, Seminary Friend was among my first friends at the Castle. She and I prayed together every day the first year I was at the Castle and did lunch weekly our Senior year. We still prayed our senior year, just not together. :)

Sister Shana - Shana uses her name on her blog login, so I use her name here too. I call her a Sister because she works at a convent. Shana is often mentioned in my posts because she has become a close friend, because she cracks me up and because we spend a lot of time together. Hi Shana's mom, if you're reading this!

Small Town Girl - my neighbor my first year at the Castle and my dear friend for the rest of my life. STG has the amazing ability to see through all my youngest child facade and lovingly but insistently to call me to task. Her down to earth ways, self awareness and insights are a true gift. She will be an amazing pastor pretty soon.

Southern Same Name Lady has the same first name I do, although she goes by our legal first name and I go by a nickname. Her Southern joy and steadfast friendship are such a treasure to me. We often share lunch and the thoughts on our minds. She is one of those friends everybody needs: always has a smile and hug, always has a great insight, and always listens intently.

Southern Wisdom - my first friend at my second seminary (there have been 3...). A Southern girl who is my age, has two sons my age and a husband twice my husband's age (ok...not really twice...). SW is another friend who can see through the youngest child schtick and loves me anyway. She is a fellow Parrothead, so that automatically makes her really cool.

Travelin' Man - Journey Girl's husband. He and I once planned a surprise for Journey Girl's birthday - I showed up in California for it! He is a great guy who travels too much, works too hard and loves his family deeply.

The WAS-beens - the awesome Exec staff from student government: Future Bishop, Mark the little brother I never had, and Squatch.

The Writer - my seminary advisor and friend. The Writer has been an advocate, an encourager and a mentor to me and I hope that never changes.

Yoda - Yoda is beyond words, kind of like God. He and PMC are the only people my non-Christian husband would consider calling his pastor. Yoda has taught me to think deeply, to define what I believe while leaving open room for ambiguity, and to approach others with unorthodox evangelism. You can read more about him here.

Have MDiv, will do airport runs for money

Vibrant Floridian Friend, who works at the Castle, has helped hook me up with airport runs and a continuing Castle email. A way to stay connected and occasional income are both great things. Today, I drove to the airport about 1 1/2 hours away to pick up a potential student. It was a great, clear, crisp autumn day, perfect for a drive.

On the way to the airport, as I listened to cassettes (the 97 Castle Buick has a cassette player!) I had dug out of old boxes, JT got me thinking about this whole ordination imperfection issue. A long, long, long time ago some really rotten stuff happened to me and I went through therapy to deal with it. The therapist and I talked about putting the horrible event into perspective - seeing what happened as one isolated event among many, one brief moment in time in a lifetime of moments. Doing so helped me regain perspective on the big picture of life when the little picture seemed to be monopolizing my conscious thoughts and actions.

Just like the therapy I went through, I had the epiphany that the ordination is but one isolated event, one moment in time. While it matters and is significant, I want to strive to see all the moments I've spent with those unable to be there as also significant. Along the pathway, I've been so blessed with a multitude of holy ground moments and experiences. I can recall

* heart-to-pain (my pain, her loving heart) talks with Southern Wisdom,
* moments of shared pain, yearning, and friendship with Journey Girl,
* times of theological struggle and wrestling with PMC,
* times of hysterical laughter and frivolity with PMC, Mrs. Awesome and the whole Awesome gang
* times of prayer, support, and joy with Seminary Friend,
* moments of shared laughter, responsibility, creativity, and support with the WAS-beens,
* moments of true transparency and accountability with Small Town Girl,
* Solid friendship with Southern Same Name Lady,
* Times of support, encouragement, admonition and growth with treasured profs like the Writer, the Rebel, and Yoda (among others),
* times of prayer, walking, and talking with the Mentor Women,
* moments of desperate phone calls home with so many beloved souls,
* holy ground conversations with the Kindhearteds, the Hospitables, and Ozzie and Harriett
* and the list goes on and on. I have indeed been blessed by an array of shepherds on this journey.

I'm trying to see each of these moments and memories as just as significant as the ordination itself. While most of the above listed friends will not be present on December 31, their roles and past interactions with me are a part of why I will be there at the altar that day. We have shared holy ground - in chapels, in cars, at lunch tables, on telephones, in restaurants, in bars - and those moments are as precious and as true as the moments in which I will have a stole placed upon my shoulders. I am lucky to have had them in my life, at whatever events, moments, and times they were with me. That is what I choose to treasure.

With these musings in my heart, I picked up Will the Future Student. His enthusiasm, hint of anxiety, and excitement were palpable. His questions were similar to the ones I asked only a few short years ago. My answers took me back to that time of life when I was on the other side of the seminary fence. For an hour or so, I was lucky enough to vicariously re-live all that it meant to be just beginning seminary and just beginning the official call process. I shared the joys of life at the Castle and told him about all that he shouldn't miss: Beer and Theology, classes taught by certain professors, sights and scenes in the town. We talked about his concerns over a fundamentalist group on his college campus, about infant Eucharist, and about my upcoming congregational call. The vicariousness may very well have gone both ways as we shared our current dreams.

I feel lucky to have met Will, and I thank God for the gift of helping me glimpse backward before stepping further forward in this call experience. As we drove up to the Martin Luther statue, currently decorated with statue-sized ONE bracelets, Will could barely contain his enthusiasm. And in my head and heart, I clapped for the Castle as they receive this gifted theologian into their midst.