Minky Continues His Loving Words...

Rab was drinking this thing that is supposed to lower his cholestorol.  I asked him what it was and after he told me, Minky replied, "Too bad it doesn't make your hair grow back!"

Revelations and Reminders from the Castle

I went to the Castle yesterday for continuing ed. I was able to hang around there after the event and visit with old friends. As I drove home, I mused about the trip.

1. Being with people who truly know you and love you anyway is good for the soul. Really good for the soul.
   
2. Along the same lines as #1, being with people who know you well enough to give you a hard time is refreshing.
3. Occasionally being able to be fully authentic and not worry so much about weighing your words or crafting a message is a necessary element of pastoral survival.
   
4. Oh, that's right, politics really are everywhere.
5. Laughter is the best medicine for all that ails.
6. Even an old friend can be full of surprises. I ordered a medium margarita at lunch that, to my surprise, was probably about 24-32 ounces. As we all got ready to leave the restaurant, I protested that I couldn't leave until the margarita was finished. Pastor Kindhearted picked up the margarita glass like a chalice, grabbed a napkin, and proceeded to "common cup" my drink around the table. I haven't laughed so hard in months.
7. I treasure my friends. I really treasure my friends. I didn't realize quite how lonely I am in Jerusalem with so little social life until I once again experienced a social environment. Along the same lines, I really treasure Rab who is perhaps my only close true friend in Jerusalem.
   

Happy Birthday to Mommy

The boys were talking about my upcoming 40th birthday. I asked Minky what he was going to give me. Without pause, he responded, "Wrinkle cream!"

My New T-Shirt

I just bought a new t-shirt from Zazzle.com! Here's what it says:


Because I couldn't help myself, I wore it to my local clergy group. I affectionately refer to them as "the boys." The group is made up of pastors from the UCC, Methodist, Catholic, local fundy church and my congregation.

The UCC'er, upon seeing the shirt, loved it. The Methodist tried to pretend he wasn't reading it. He also addressed his prayer before our meal to "Heavenly Father" and threw in a couple "Father God"s along the way. The local fundy just plainly didn't get it. With a confused look on his face, he said, "Is that a good thing????" "Oh yes!" I replied. "It means that I too can be made in God's image!" He just looked at me with complete bewilderment.

Sometimes I just love messing with people.

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The Second Wave

I was warned about this - the return of grief that would come on with a vengeance about 6 months after Dad's death. I suppose, when I look back, it didn't surprise me. There have been warning signs the last few weeks - a bout with influenza and a subsequent virus attacking a suppressed immune system, I've been wearing my long hair up in a makeshift bun more days than not because I don't have the energy to anything else, the return of a dread of mornings that make it nearly impossible to get out of bed. Today, it seems like every song I hear is somehow related to Dad or memories of our shared times together. The oppressive weight of apathy has once again found its home in the core of my body and spirit. I just want to hide away from the world. The tears well up far too easily.

After all this time, I still find myself preparing to call him to share exciting news or the day's challenges. I still find myself stunned by the reality that he is gone. I catch myself going through the motions much more than I'd like. I feel like there's a rock attached to my chest. Grief, in a word, sucks.

In some ways, the grief is harder this time. The initial fog of the early days has lifted and now the weight of Dad's death is more evident, more stark, more real. It certainly doesn't help that family tied up with Dad's trust continues to disappoint, sadden and frustrate me as they make decision one could only understand as selfish greed. There really is no other feasible explanation. My heart breaks on Dad's behalf as I stand by while they squander and misappropriate his money and the business around which he defined himself for many years. The situation makes me sick to my stomach.

I look around the Cute Gray House that he was supposed to come help fix up this Spring. At times, I catch myself throwing my grief-related anger toward the house that Dad will never see and never grace with his creative ideas. I'll never hear him comment as he walks through the house amazed by all there is to do to it. I'll never share a paintbrush or power tool with him as he explains procedural things I really don't care about so long as the house is fixed up.

When Dad was around, there were whole categories (e.g., wills, business plans, house repairs, cars) that I didn't even have to think or know about. I could just call him and he'd swell with fatherly pride at having been asked to share his wisdom and insights. Sometimes, it used to drive me nuts because, in his book, there was usually only one right way to do something. Now, I miss it desperately.

Easter was an interesting experience this year. Quite frankly, I didn't feel much like proclaiming life as my blackened heart continued to sink deeper and deeper into pain and sadness. It was difficult to put together a sermon and the Holy Week services looked similar to the ones of 2007. I didn't have energy to do otherwise. Once again, though, the Holy Spirit wove into the experience and I was surprised to hear words come out of my mouth that I myself needed to hear: words of "We are so ridden with grief that we forget our calling," and "your fear is not gone but it no longer holds you back...you can go on despite the suffering, you can take the next step because you are not alone." I was astonished to receive a lovely letter from a visitor who was here at Easter. The sermon, she said, was meaningful and inspirational. She even called the service "joyful" - have I become that proficient of an actress?

This second wave of grief seems threatening, ready to swallow me up once again and pull me down in its undertow. I know with certainty that lifeguards (aka friends, colleagues) are all around and, for that, I'm thankful. They may not take the pain away but they certainly keep the undertow from winning.

You know you're an ENFP when...

You know you're an ENFP when...

you're laying in bed and your children's choir director calls you at 7:15...ummmm 8:15... to alert you to the fact that you forgot to change your clocks and to remind you that service starts in 15 minutes.

Come Monday, It'll Be Alright

I love Mondays. I especially love Mondays when

Jimmy Buffett tickets go on sale. The ice and snow are layered upon the pavement. The cool winter thermometer dips below 20 degrees and Ticketmaster.com and Ebay.com (unfortunately...) provide a light of hope at the end of the dark winter tunnel. Buffett? Jimmy Buffett?! As in, Margaritaville, paradise, pirates and parrots?! Could it be?! Yet another coming of the great Margarita god? Yes, my children, it's true. The savior of summer is on his way. The earth will breathe again. The sun will shine again. And I'll be right there watching it happen...on 3 different occasions. God is indeed good.

A Bit of An Update

It's been so long since I've consistently shared my daily musings...

Here's just a few of the random thoughts clogging my brain:

- Record snowfall. Here in Jerusalem, we've had over 70" of snow this winter. We've proudly beat the record set in 1978. Hint: if you want to hear about the winter of 78 (or 82 or 26 or 39...), just ask any local. They'll be glad to give you a play-by-play of each snowflake, abandoned car on County roads, and not-so-daring stories of how they survived.

- Minky. Minky is studying dental health in school. He's actually considered the idea of brushing his teeth without being reminded.

- Minkyism. The other day, my mom told Mink that she was hoping to come visit for my birthday this Spring. She apologized for not being able to make it for his birthday, to which he replied flatly, "It's ok, Gramma. I'm used to you never being here for my birthday."

- Rab. Rab, in his ongoing soft-pedalling midlife crisis, continues to ponder what occupation is calling to him. In the meantime, he's continuing to be a stay at home dad. The role shift is a little weird, but overall it's really a great thing. And it definitely gives the locals something to be fully and deeply confused about. Rab's arranged an after-school routine and homework regime, and he's redone Minky's bedroom (bright, licorice red, pictures forthcoming). Rab's still in midstream with redoing the dining room. Please don't ask how long I've been living with a multi-colored (all bad), patched up dining room. The topic only makes me cranky.

- Sony. Sony is doing really great (big surprise, I know). He's thoroughly enjoying middle school and voluntarily comes to Confirmation each week with great fervor. He's actually not supposed to start confirmation until 7th grade, but heck, if the kid wants to be at church I'm certainly not going to stop him. Maybe his enthusiam about confirmaiton can help asuage my guilt over all the times I left the kids at home on Sunday with Rab so that I could worship peacefully.

- Spiritual Direction training. I continue to love SDDP (the acronym for my spiritual direction training program). I met my supervisor a few weeks ago and she rocks. Well...as much as a peaceful, calm nun can rock anyway. I'm loving the reading. I'm grudgingly getting through the required verbatims (argh...memories of CPE!).

- Estate of My Greatest Fan. I'm still serving as personal representative for my Dad's estate. For awhile there, my sister was calling every day with her anxiety and panic about the business buyout. She has some reason to be frustrated but it really began to wear on me personally. We ended up serving a notice to creditors to a nearby business that may (but really shouldn't) have interest in my dad's dough due to contamination of the land we own now. For the meantime, we're waiting out the 30 day notice period and the break in daily decisions and news is a welcome one. The entire estate stuff, overall, has been a real source of disappointment and energy drain. It's a long story I'm fairly sure I shouldn't share here (and you, dear reader, probably really don't want to hear it anyway). I talked to one of our lawyers yesterday and in order to transfer one of Dad's investments, I have to get a "Medallion Signature Guarantee" on a bunch of papers. Well, as one might imagine, Jerusalem has no bank that offers such a service. As soon as the paperwork arrives, I'll be heading about 35 miles North to get to a bank that can provide the service. Just where the hell am I living?!!?!?!?

- Therapy. Ever since Dad died, I've been sustained and strengthened by therapy. I'm so thankful for it. Just wanted to share.

- More Minky news. We've started with a new psychologist/psychiatrist team. They're solid, reputable, good guys with a no prisoners attitute. Last night, Rab and I introduced THE NEW PLAN, which includes black and white rules, clear cut boundaries, an all-or-nothing points system and other counter-intuitive (to me) stuff. As we were stating that part of the plan includes the expectation that there will no longer be discussion or negotiation on Minky's part, he interupted with, "Well, what if I really have something I need to say?"

If you've made it this far, I'm impressed. Hope to hear from you and to find out if anyone is even still checking the blog.

Urban Planning in a Small Town

Last night, I went to the big meeting about the hopes for a community center. There were 6 people there... These folks, along with 2 or 3 others who couldn't make it to the meeting, are hoping to arrange for a community center with a 400-person capacity. The two nearest towns have ones that provide 200-250 person capacity.

On the one hand, the meeting was an interesting study is big city dreams/small town life. On the other hand, it showed me just how clueless I am about Jerusalem. As location possibilities were discussed, each was referenced by what used to be in the space: "you know, by the old dairy depot," "out by Ozzie's old farm," "the old school (which is ridden with asbestos), and, my favorite, "at the old pickle plant." There was also talk about some place that used to have something to do with chickens...

I'm still musing about the fact that I live in a town that used to have a pickle plant. Maybe when pigs fly and this center is built, it could be the memorial pickle parlor.

I wonder if my Hebrew prof will create a blog now

Hey all you Old Testament scholars - did you hear the news? You can now publish a blog in HEBREW! Just thought I'd share the joy.

Here's a keyboard layout to help your publishing efforts:

Christ Among Us

Shuffler came through our church doors one morning during coffee hour. Everyone pretended not to see him and his companion, Smiley. Shuffler and Smiley were different. Their clothes were a bit dissheveled, they were rough around the edges, they didn't fit in here. While we pray each week for new people to come through the doors, these are not the type of new people the congregation meant.

Nonetheless, Shuffler and Smiley said "please" and "thank you" as they received the warmed up with some coffee and a treat. Nobody approached them. In fact, everyone avoided them. I noticed this and my heart sank.

After a few minutes, I walked over and introduced myself to Shuffler and Smiley. We had a wonderful conversation. All eyes in the room were on the 3 of us. After Shuffler and Smiley left, I was inundated with questions, "Who are those people?" "Why don't they worship with us?" "Did they really just come for free coffee?!" "Where do they live? Why were they here?" My response was simple: "Oh, Shuffler and Smiley? They are great folks - you should introduce yourself next time they come." If the questions persisted, I responded, "I know the answer but you should ask Shuffler and Smiley directly. They'd enjoy talking with you."

Mitt Romney Scares the Hell Out of Me

After a week (well...beginning on Wednesday) of sprinting a ministry marathon including several multi-hour trips to and at the next town's hospital, two congregation deaths, a funeral, a major Minky meltdown this afternoon, the worst confirmation class ever, and a migraine (big surprise huh?), I turned on the Republican debate after a nap (or shall I call it an exhausted collapse?). Yep, I really know how to relax - watch the candidates from the political party that disgusts me on many levels.

Mitt Romney dared to assert some ridiculous statistic that many uninsured people in the USA make over $70,000/year. On issue after issue, it was crystal clear that this guy doesn't get it. I also wonder how he can call himself a Christian* when so many of his policies are so full of injustice (my major beef with Republicans overall but even more so with this nut). I'm glad to hear that he's slipped in the polls. I think I'd have to move to Canada if American voters were stupid enough to elect this guy.

* - I know some Christians don't consider Mormons to be Christian, but my understanding is that Mormons think of themselves as Christians.

Unsolicited Christmas Advice

If you save your credit card information and passwords on your computer, DON'T!!!!! My paypal account was heisted on the 22nd. Within the account, 2 bank accounts and 2 credit cards were listed. Luckily, the transactions were frozen and now I'm waiting for $500 to be replaced into my bank account. I froze the other accounts this morning.

This is one of those "I didn't think it would happen to me" things. My Christmas gift to you - a reminder to change your passwords frequently on all online accounts and to NEVER save credit card and bank account info within any online account.

Where I'm at on this foggy, gray day

I Don't Want Anything to Change
Bonnie Raitt

Sleepless nights aren't so bad
I'm staying up, I'm staying sad
I don't want anything to change
I don't want anything to change
I like it lonely, I like it strange
I don't want anything to change

You left a mess
you're everywhere
I'd pick it up but I don't dare
I don't want anything to change
I don't want anything to change
There's nothing I would reaarange
I don't want anything to change

I can feel you fading
But until you're gone
I'm taking all the time that I can borrow
The getting over is waiting
But I won't move on
And I'm gonna wanna feel the same tomorrow

I know the truth is right outside
But for the moment, it's best denied
I don't want anything to change

I can feel you fading...

And I don't want anything to do
With what comes after you
I don't want anything to change...

Minkyism

The other morning, I was sitting in bed as Arwen the cat gave herself a morning bath. Her leg was up in the air, her spine was twisted as only a cat can contort and Minky walked in and said, "Look, Mommy, Arwen's doing yoga!"

I'll never lose my keys again!

As many of you know, I am notorious for losing my keys, my Palm Pilot, my remote control, my sanity...

Years ago as I perused that cool mail order catalog found in the seat pocket in front of me, I came across the Sharper Image pages. Ever since, I have coveted the remote control finder thing. Last week, I finally gave in and bought one.

It arrived yesterday and now I'm hooked! The remote has a locator, the cell phone has one, my Palm Pilot has one. I may even put one on the dog and on Minky (ok...just kidding). Whenever an item can't be found, you just get the locator (conveniently kept on the fridge using a magnetized base) and press the appropriate button and BEEP BEEP BEEP! Too cool.

The genius who created the device even answered Rab's skeptical concern: what if you lose the base? Not so fast, oh skeptic! The base has a setting for an alarm that will sound if the locator is left off the base.

The person who designed this device is my hero. As long as I remember, anyway.

Ode to the Sitka Spruce

Talking to my dad's estate attorneys never ceases to amaze me. There's always some surprising twist or turn to throw my former assumptions off. Today was no different.

This afternoon, I was talking to one of the attorneys and she mentioned the famous, on the way to the beach, cornball but ya gotta do it stop known as The Nation's Largest Sitka Spruce Tree (or as one website states: also known as the “Klootchy Creek Giant”) is no more.

Rab and I stopped there on the way to our honeymoon on the Oregon Coast. We went by there the day before my ordination to show it to Future Bishop and his wife. And now the former towering 200' tree has been destroyed by 100+ mph winds. Waah.

At least as I was reading up on all this I found out that there is an official "keeper of the National Big Tree Register". How do you suppose people find jobs in such a field? Is there a 5 year old somewhere saying, "When I grow up, I want to be the keeper of the National Big Tree Register"?

Minkyism

Oh, Minky! Even though I haven't been writing on the blog much in the past months, Minky and his antics have been going strong.
Fred the Dog
One day, Sony, Minky and I walked to the nearby gas station/mini-mart to get some treats. As we were heading out of the building, a rather large, somewhat intimidating man walked out behind us. We walked past an El Camino in the parking lot and the cutest little rat terrier was in the passenger seat. Both Minky and I were cooing over the dog and talking about how cute he was. The large intimidating man got into the El Camino and the dog jumped up onto the man's shoulder. "Ya hear that, Fred, those people think you're cute," he gruffly chuckled with a gravelly voice. Minky, about the size of the guy's arm, went right up to the guy and exclaimed with disbelief, "Fred?! Fred?! That's my grandma's boyfriend's name not a dog name!" Rolling his eyes and shaking his head, Minky walked away in disgust. The guy guffawed in response.

As we continued walking, I said, "Minky...Minky, there's not a day that goes by that you don't make me laugh." Then Sony, in response, said, "Yeah, and there's not a day that goes by that you don't make her angry."

Calling the Blog Back to Life

Is anybody even checking for new posts any more? I can't say I'd blame you if you weren't!

But if you are checking (and obviously, you are checking if you're reading this now...), you're in for a treat. I've got a bunch of posts just waiting to move from memory to keypad. Stay tuned - new posts are on the way momentarily.

Authentic Ministry

From the get go of my journey into ordained ministry, one of the most important hallmarks and hopes has been authenticity. As a student, I was inspired by those who were truly themselves - those pastors who did not turn into "official, super-hero, formal pastor" upon donning their alb and stole. I was lucky and blessed to have numerous examples of authentic ministry during my journey. Today, more than ever before, I lived it out.

When I got to church this morning, I wrote up a one page statement to read at the beginning of service. I knew I would not be able to be fully off the cuff with my words, so the statement gave me a set of notes from which to speak. Basically, I said:

I didn't think it would be quite so difficult to stand before you today… I want to take a moment to thank you for the lovely flowers that were sent to Dad’s funeral and to thank you for all the cards, notes, memorials and hugs. It is indeed a tough time and the grace of God shown through the love and prayers of others are what get me through the day.

In the last 9 months, we’ve all been through a lot. There’s been change around BLC and change in our lives outside of church. As a church, you’ve welcomed a new pastor – a girl pastor at that! And a first call pastor who has fulfilled the stereotype of trying to change too much too soon. For some of you what I say next will be a welcome relief: the coming months will hold some shifts for us as well. You may find that your formerly bubbly, enthusiastic pastor is a bit listless. I won’t be doing as much or pushing as hard. I may cry at the drop of a hat. I may share memories of my dad in our discussions. My pace will slow. Such is the reality of grief.

But as your pastor, I also want to say that my own more measured pace is no reason for us to step away from our ministries and the opportunities before us. Instead, this is an opportunity – a calling even – for you to shine. This is a congregation of gifted, wonderful, beautiful people with talents and time and abilities to share for the glory of God. If you have pondered stepping up your involvement, now is a wonderful time to do so. If you’ve always wanted to try leading an adult education class, now is a time to stand on your colt legs and have a go at it. If a certain ministry is beckoning to you, consider heading it up or organizing some fellow members to work with you.

At all times, the church is God’s church, the church of Jesus Christ. The church is not my church. It is our church. Together we lead it, together we create and tend to its ministries and, as you’ve shown me in the past few weeks and months, together we live in both our celebrations and in our grief.

At the first service, I got about a sentence into it before crying - not just getting misty and teary, but crying. I took some deep breaths, I paused, I resumed, I cried some more, then I said, "I'm not going to stop because this is real. This is grief, it's what it looks like and what it is." I looked out at my congregation and saw many misty eyes and even a few crying eyes. We were bonded in a new way - pastor and parish, brothers and sisters in Christ. It was grace. It was beautiful.

At communion, we used the same liturgy I used at my dad's memorial - the same words we use every week at Jordan. Tears fell from my cheeks during the words. At the beginning of the distribution, the tears were nowhere to be found. But for some reason, midway, they began and I continued to walk around the altar and distribute the bread and say, "The body of Christ given for you" with tears falling all the while. When I got to Darrell, who looks like my dad (and knows it), the tears really fell. Without knowing he did so, Darrell grabbed by hand just the way Dad used to do when I served Dad communion.

I was showered in hugs and shared tears after the service. It was so true, so real, so comforting. When Darrell came up to me, I leaned into his open arms and received a hug. I whispered, "I'm sorry you look like my dad..." and he responded, "I'm not. I'm glad I can be here for you." God incarnate strikes again. I am truly blessed.