Things They Never Taught Me in Seminary

I'm preparing for my first Ash Wednesday. Question 1: So what do the ashes go in? Once again, google came to the rescue. I typed in "Ash Wednesday ash container" or something like that and boom, millions of hits. This one actually told me what I needed to know.

There should be a class in seminary called All Those Practical Things We Haven't Taught You. The syllabus could include things like:

• How to tie your cincture
• Where to buy clergy shirts that actually fit well
• Ashes - where to buy them, how to prepare them, what to put them in
• How to tactfully remove fundamentalist tracts from your Lutheran congregation (I just took them out of the pews and nobody seemed to notice...)
• By the way, your job description does include buying a new computer for the church office, knowing what to do with the phone system fails, and other surprises.

I'm sure there's more this class could offer. Your suggestions? We'll compile them and send them to the Castle.

Repaglarity

Scene at the Cute Gray House: Music on the stereo, little boy playing Hotwheels on the floor, dog outside, Mom on laptop writing her Ash Wednesday sermon.

Sammy Dog: Arf! Arf!
Mommy: Minky, will you go let the dog in.
Minky: Why don't you do it?
Mommy: Because I'm working.
Minky: Well, I'm working on my repaglarity (pron: repp-uh-glare-ity)
Mommy: What's that?
Minky: I don't know, but it's important.

Guess I gotta go - I certainly don't want to get in the way of repaglarity. :)

Arwen the Brilliant

Arwen the bulimic cat is at it again. Before I tell the story, I need to explain that Rab's office at the Cute Gray House has two doors - a slider that leads to the living room and a regular door that leads to the hallway. The doors are on the same side of the room, about 8 feet apart - one on the East wall and the other on the West wall.

A few days ago, I closed the hallway door so the dog could not get into the living room. Arwen was in the office when I closed the door, so I made sure the slider was wide open. About an hour or so later, I opened the hallway door. Arwen was standing on the other side, in an absolute panic, meowing and whining...thinking she was trapped.

I'm surrounded by brilliance.

First Call is a lot like...

The anticipation and preceding events prior to one's entry into ordained ministry are akin to labor - for some, it's all pain; for others, it is smooth sailing; for most, it's a mixture of the two. Along the way, midwives encourage, nurture, support, and gently guide us along while acerbic but necessary and indispensable nurses offend our sensibilities and goad us further along to the next necessary step. The transitions of CPE, internship(s), and the occasional difficult paper or text dot the labor monitor until the contractions of interviewing and the call process emerge full throttle. The negotiations, the housing arrangements, the panicked breathing lead up to the birth of the long-planned, long-awaited, long-anticipated Letter of Call. Finally, ordination arrives with its own unexpected experiences and realities that nobody could have put into words for you even if they'd tried.

The similarities don't stop there. I've decided that being a first call pastor is akin to the experience of becoming a mother:

• I am tired all the time, but it's a mostly good tired because I love what I'm doing.
  
• People seem to think I know what I'm doing and entrust me to do it, even though there are many moments I'm not so sure I know what I'm doing.
• There is an important need to establish contacts in order to maintain (or discover?) one's sanity (e.g., pediatrician, pediatrician's nurse : seasoned colleagues, friends)
• People look to you with excitement and joy about your new role. While you find the new role exciting and a dream come true, you also find the new role frenzied, exhausting, disorganized, and befuddling at times.
• Illness, yours or another's, tends to no longer just be an inconvenience - it now has the potential to turn your day (or even your week) completely upside down.
• Everyone has their own experience, wisdom and horror story to share.
• All who are further along in the journey become a bit wistful as they remember and share stories of their own beginnings in the role.
• There's a process of growing into the new role and label. "Mommy" and "Pastor" don't automatically equate to "me." Sometimes, I feel like we're playing church or like I should look over my shoulder to see the pastor to whom others are referring.
  
• In some ways, it's like entering a new club, a fraternity of sorts, a group of like-stoled people experiencing the joys, trials, and holy ground of ministry.

Like parenthood, the pastoral journey is what I expected, is not at all what I expected, and is full of both challenge and serenity. It's a great deal more disorganized that I expected, there's a great deal more that people assume I know, and there's also the indescribable love. The birth has now occurred and the toddling is underway.

People in Jerusalem that I just love

1. The sidewalk and driveway clearing wonder boy who lives 2 houses away! I've got him on standby - it snows, he shovels and plows, I pay. Worth every penny.
2. The 3 anonymous passersby who just pushed by van out of the snow pit I discovered - they saw my plight and didn't think twice about popping out of their cars and pushing away. This is a great little place.
3. The after school, calls to see if I need her, does my dishes babysitter. She rocks. Great kid.
4. The new IEP team is coming close - I think we may actually be on the same song sheet now.
5. Oh yeah...and who ever created dog kennels. My carpet thanks you.

What I miss, what I don't miss, what I love

What I miss:

• going out to lunch and coffee with friends
• knowing all my neighbors and living around people in the same boat as me and my family
• daily coffee hour after chapel
• having a number of babysitters who understand and know how to deal with my boys
• the kids' youth room
• being known by my first name instead of by "Pastor"
• the school and teachers from the boys' former school - knowing them and being known by them
• the relationships, relationships, relationships
  
• the income of student loans, grants and scholarships
• knowing how to get everywhere, knowing how long it takes to get anywhere, and being able to run errands in the town in which I live
• being intellectually stimulated by brilliant people on an almost daily basis
  

What I don't miss:

• the student housing dishwasher from the 80s
• the small living space
• traffic (ok...there wasn't much there, but there's even less here)
  
• living in rental housing
  
• the chaotic schedule of being a student, wife and mom

What I love:

• my congregation
• my new dishwasher (from this century!)
• the freedom I have over my schedule
• the colleagues in my text study group
• living with all my grown up furniture that's been in storage for 3+ years
• getting paid for doing something I love
• having colors other than Castle Ice Cream on the walls of my home!
  

Can you go home again?

Today, I returned to the Castle to hear a wonderful speaker discuss Lenten and Easter Bible texts. In addition to learning a great deal and appreciating his take on the texts, I was able to see a few former profs and a number of former classmates. Yeah! It was so great to see everyone and to pick up where we left off. I shared a laugh with the gal who taught me about the concept of Midwest Nice, hugged a friend who just received a call, hugged another whose ordination I missed, and caught up with others as we shared our experiences of driving over that familiar Wisconsin bridge near the Castle.

For two of us, it was our first time back since ordination. We both got lumps in our throats as we drew near, wistful and full of yearning for what used to be while not wanting to give up what is now. I found that as I neared the bridge, I was singing a little louder (Queen Greatest Hits... awesome car music), had more energy than I'd had in a month, and felt filled with hope and joy. It struck me how my lower energy level this past month has been a sign of an ongoing grief.

As I drove across the bridge, the sight of the frozen, snow covered Mississippi River whispered home - a word I never would have thought I'd associate with the Castle land when I arrived there 4+ years ago. For sure, it was not the home - not my beloved Portland - but it was another experience of home, a familiar dwelling place with memories of ups and downs, challenges and celebrations, joy and pain. It's a place where I know the shortcuts, the phone numbers, and the best restaurants. I know how long it takes to get from one end of town to the other and everywhere in between.

After the conference, I had an appointment and then a list of errands to run. A part of me wasn't quite ready to leave once the errands were complete. The drive home, at 7 p.m., was dark and a bit heavier than the bright, hope-filled drive there. With a sense of assured resignation, I pulled into the driveway, no longer singing loudly, no longer energetic, no longer beaming. Yet I knew that at some point down the road, Jerusalem too will become home in its own way and time.

Now I know I've arrived

I received my first anonymous note as a pastor!

What did I do with it, you ask? Well, after sharing the news with PMC and Gotta Love Her*, I discovered this wonderful bin under my desk labelled recycling. Ummm....yeah, not gonna play those reindeer games.

* Gotta Love Her is the secretary of the church where I serve. She rocks.

At least I'm a warm idiot

This morning, the temperature at 7 a.m. was -19 with a wind chill that made it feel like -35. That's below zero. Fahrenheit.

I had to go up to the gas station to buy stickers for our extra post-move garbage. It's only a block away, so Sony and I walked up there. We donned our ski pants, sweaters, long johns, snow boots and parkas. One block was do-able. After all, it's warmed up to zero with a wind chill making it feel like only -15F. It's downright balmy.

Having survived the climate, I found some deeply-buried bravery and decided to head to the pharmacy to transfer a prescription. I walked in with my below zero wardrobe only to see the locals in regular shoes, regular coats, no gloves and no hats. For a minute, I felt like a fool in my bright yellow and green Oregon Duck coat. Then I decided, I'd rather stick out like a sore thumb as someone obviously-not-from-around-here then freeze my butt off or stick to the sidewalk like a frozen Oregon Duck popsicle.

Oh, sometimes I just can't believe what my kid does

Oh, TT.

We had a new babysitter tonight - one of my parishoner's kids. She was set up to watch the kids every Sunday so Rab and I could have a consistent date night. Aaaahhhh...the best laid plans. Looks like one date night was enough.

I've yet to get the complete story, but what I know now is that Rab and I were just pulling into the Piggly Wiggly to pick up a few groceries after a wonderful dinner. My phone rang and I answered it to hear a very distressed teenager on the other side of the line. Apparently, when she told TT it was time for bed, there was some sort of run in and he ended up grabbing Rab's Leatherman off the kitchen counter downstairs and threatening her with it. He got pretty close to her at one point.

I am so horrified I can't even see straight.

My weird cat

Arwen the bulimic cat has developed a new issue. She is deeply afraid of ceiling fans. She avoids the kitchen like the plague - hissing and growling if anyone takes her in there. When she walks in the living room, she slinks along the walls keeping an eye on the mean, nasty ceiling fan at all times. She will not avert her gaze, even if it means walking backwards.

Unfortunately for Arwen, there are 5 ceiling fans in our new house (for now, anyway, until we rip them out and replace them with new lighting). Luckily, she is not alone. Check out Gizmo the cat and his ceiling fan issues. Amazing what you find on Google images...