Manipulation 101

In education lingo, there are words like 'manipulatives,' 'manipulate,' 'manipulation,' etc. that mean something fully different than the 'manipulate' lingo lending itself to emotional and deceptive harm. I'm aware of this. Nonetheless, as I read a letter from my boys' PE teacher this morning, I found the following sentence worth a chuckle:

"Children are also taught the basic elements of manipulative skills through team activities."

Cert School, days one and two

Shana has told me more than once: never post when drunk, crabby or tired. I must admit I am pretty exhausted, but I think I'll go for it nonetheless. I'm neither drunk nor crabby so I'm at 2 out of 3.

I began cert school on Monday. Day 1 was great. Day 1 included sharing stories and some introductory material. We played some games with funny handshakes and one called Screaming Toes. It was silly, youth-groupy kind of fun.

It was a bit strange and also really great to be up on campus and back in the swing of daily chapel and coffee hour. I know the faculty and staff, about a third of the first year students and all of the 2nd and final year students, so in some ways I felt like I fit right in. However, when I looked around, my class was nowhere to be found and I missed them terribly.

On my way up to campus, I thought I saw my former partner, CG, and I got excited. Then, I realized it was someone else. Sigh. Later on, I thought I heard my friend Liz' voice and I was happy. Then, again, I realized it was someone else. Repeat sigh. [I did, however, listen to Styx Greatest Hits later in the day and I remembered the trip Liz, a bunch of our friends, and I took to the Cities last Spring...listening to that CD was kind of a tribute to her.]

I had to take off around 2 to take TT to vision therapy, so I missed the afternoon session on spirituality. Bummer. Then, as I neared the city where he does vision therapy, I got a speeding ticket. That made me sad. I craved chocolate immediately. And, wouldn't you know it, the assistant to the bishop had chosen the very moment that the officer was handing me the ticket to return the call I'd made to him last Saturday.

Today, cert school was great once again. I brought HoHos so everyone could help me drown my speeding ticket sorrows. Only Daniel obliged - everyone else talked about how they just worked out and shouldn't eat ho hos for breakfast. I like Daniel best now. He and I still eat like we're in college. I guess Mike is ok too - he made fun of everyone who had just worked out and he threw ho hos at them. I like Mike.

The afternoon was great but also tiring. We did activites like passing a hula hoop around a circle as we held hands, getting everyone through a spider web thingy (this involved lifting people+), trust falls, moving a tennis ball connected to strings from point a to point b, getting a ping pong ball to a goal using PVC tubes... all kinds of team building things. It was misty the entire time we were down there. I didn't mind it a bit but I felt for the skinnier ones and the guy from Florida who were cold. We have a great group of people and our personalities seem to mesh well. Of course, there is the inevitable "herding of cats" reality that occurs when you've got a bunch of leaders together, but we are in the Midwest (read this to mean: Midwest Nice) and so far we don't know each other well enough to be disagreeable.

I think the most unexpected thing is the amount of self-awareness the last 2 days has provided. I think of myself as a pretty self-aware person and, over the years, others have agreed with that opinion. However, some loose ends have come together in the last 48 hours that have surprised me. Things like what it means and looks like in action to find my voice and use it and how, if there is no appointed leader, I tend to step back and let others lead first before I step up to do so. If I sense a void of leadership, then I have no problem stepping forward; if others are leading in a way that seems effective, I tend to let 'em lead. (Now...bring it on those of you who've experienced otherwise. I'm all for truthtelling.)

The voice thing is intriguing. One of the people in the group made a comment to the effect of, "Ok. Let's go for this and get it underway and stop talking. Is everyone ok with that?" We all went for it and undertook the task after she said it. Later, as we processed, she said she'd observed how she sought consensus and was a bit critical of her tendency to do so. I spoke up and said I really appreciated her asking for consensus because otherwise I may have resented the "command" to get going. This led to an interesting discussion in which our facilitator said something to the effect of, "Why does someone have to give you your voice? It's yours. Nobody needs to tell you it's ok to disagree or speak up against/in reaction to something." I've heard all the lingo about "finding your voice" for quite a few years now, but somehow the facilitator's statement provided a new angle. I appreciated his comment but was also a bit pissed with myself for once again feeling the need for permission to share my 2 cents in a group...

Enough nearly-CPEing for one day.

Tomorrow we hit the "high ropes" course. Eek!

+ I also like Merry because when we were trying to figure out who to lift up through the highest opening, someone suggested we lift the lightest person. I looked around and said it was her. She looked at me and said it was me. Then she whispered her weight and it was the same as mine...And I had a ho ho at breakfast and she didn't.

TTism 604

It's been awhile since the last TTism. Saturday night, TT stayed up pretty late with some buddies while I watched movies with some girlfriends. He coped pretty well on Sunday, but Monday morning was tough. He was pretty tired.

TT (eyes half closed, yawning): I want to say something but I'm not gonna...

Me: Why not? Go ahead and say it.

TT: I know what you'll say. You'll say 'Life isn't fair' after I say 'It's not fair I have to get up for school this morning.'

Be careful what you post...

So I will never again complain on my blog about being bored. Here's why:

About a 1/2 hour after I posted the last post, TT disappeared. KK was going to do vision therapy homework with him and some of the neighborhood boys said they would corral him (he was at the bottom of what the kids call "Dead Man's Hill"). A few minutes later, one of the kids came racing back and said, "We lost him, he's up by Wash (the middle school about 1/2 mile away)." I got in the car and thought I'd spot him right away. No such luck. My heart began to skip its beats, my anxiety began to grow.

I called C and asked him to help me look (he was just getting off work). I decided to call the police because there I was, combing a 2 or 3 mile radius without any sighting of TT. The dispatcher was great. Then she asked me to go home to meet with the police. I couldn't for the life of me remember what color shirt he was wearing. At least I remembered the pants and guessed that he didn't have shoes on (anyone who knows TT could've guessed that though). I went home, printed off pictures of TT from the first day of school, and had a flash of..."What if this is the last picture anyone ever takes of him? What if...this...what if...that...??? Why can't I remember what shirt he was wearing?!?" I had to change gears before I went nuts or broke down.

The police showed up. Nice young guys. Two cars. I gave them the pictures. They asked me where he went to school, why he fled, where his neighborhood friends lived and if I'd called their homes, etc, etc. I felt like screaming, "JUST GO FIND MY BABY!!!" They asked me to stay put at home. CH scootered over to a nearby friends to look for TT. I sat on the front step and pulled burs out of TTs clothes from this morning's walk in the woods. When I wasn't doing that, I was pacing aimlessly.

It seemed like an eternity and it seemed like I wasn't doing anything to help find TT. I felt pretty rotten and pretty helpless. A few minutes later (although it felt like forever), one of the police cars returned and told me the other officer had just found TT at his school.

A few minutes later, he drove up. TT thought the whole ride in a police car thing was fun. Never done that before. And hopefully never again... Everyone watched when I went up to TT. I guess I'd say it was similar to the airport scene from Jerry Maguire...kind of. I really don't want to relive the words. What a bundle of emotions tied into such a short period of time. It was bad enough to experience it the first time. I asked TT to go inside and he did so willingly.

CH drove up and we all went inside. The police stayed outside our house for a long time - I'm not sure if they were doing that on purpose to make sure we weren't going to go ballistic on TT or what. It seemed kind of weird...especially because the entire neighborhood is empty tonight and it was just us and the officers. I guess when you don't know the family and the situation, it's better to make sure all is well for the kid's sake afterward. Kind of sad, but true.

TT has noticed we're all so drained and concerned and he's playing it pretty cool. He says he's sorry but the idea of having his bike taken away for a week doesn't seem to be phasing him. Perhaps it will hit home next week when he wants to use his bike and we say no.

The city's finest definitely earned a gold star tonight. I hope the rest of their night is a piece of cake.

Bored, bored, bored

That's my theme of the day. I'm bored. The most exciting things that happened today were (a) TT running into the woods just as carpool needed to leave, necessitating two round trips to the school this morning, and (b) S coming over to borrow my camera and then coming back to download some pictures of morning glories by her apt. I think they were morning glories...here's one of her pics:

I discovered Oprah is also on in the morning, on channel 18 I think. Never knew that.

I made a mandala* for my spiritual director. Last time she and I met, she used the word 'sparkle' in her prayer and this image came to me. It's probably not too easy to see it but if you click on the picture, it should enlarge. The actual mandala is pretty cool and colorful. It has nuances of silver, gold and sparkles.

I checked my email and my friends' blogs too much, fed the fish, and vaccuumed. I started to watch the movie Troy but I thought it was boring so I stopped it. Then, I made of list of things I could do when I'm bored but they all sounded boring or demanded too much time or energy so I didn't do any of them.

Monday, cert school starts. Then I won't be bored. I wonder what it will be like to have a normal person schedule again...

* What is a mandala, you ask? Well, it's kind of a long story. Traditionally they are an ancient Hindu (I think...) circle (usually) with a geometric pattern in it. Here are some examples I found on Google images:



The ones my spiritual director encourages people to do are much more abstract. It's not about being able to draw or making something pretty. It's a process through which a person intentionally seeks the wisdom of the Holy Spirit. I do them a lot as a spiritual practice.** Here's a couple I've drawn before. One was about pondering authenticity and the other is my symbol for friendship. I think if you click on them, you might get a better view. All the colors and lines and intricacies are symbolic for something, usually anyway.



** Just an aside: I like using the term 'spiritual practice' instead of 'spiritual discipline.' It seems much more fitting for how I view a relationship with God. Discipline sounds so, I don't know, full of retribution and punishment...something one must do. It's a loaded term. I don't think God is very into shoulds and oughts and musts. I don't think God is into loaded terms when they hang people up and divert their attention to all kinds of garbage. I think God just hopes we'll try to answer God's calls to us the best that we can in the moment.

Mighty This Love

Peter Mayer has this great song called Mighty This Love. One of my favorite parts is:

This Love is strong enough to be weak,
Brave enough to speak,
these arms are longer than we can believe,
kind enough to lift you off your knees.

It is a prophetic message that I recall time and again. This morning, I listened to the CD this song is on and I paused and really listened to Mighty This Love. I knew I was heading up to the Castle for chapel today. I was doing so with such great trepidation. Yesterday, I was talking with my friend S about my concerns. I didn't want to be seen as the recent grad who just can'’t leave or the hanger-on-er, the person who just can't shake the old roles.

I surfed on the internet until the last possible minute, filled my coffee cup before leaving (another stall tactic), and stopped to talk to a neighborhood mom out with her kids on the new playground. I wanted to go hear my friend, Tim, preach. There was no doubt I wanted to hear him, I just felt weird about going up to the Castle. I had it all planned out -– I'’d slip in late, stand in the narthex, hear the sermon, and quietly slip away before anyone noticed. Ah...but that plan was foiled as I heard the sermon.

Tim preached beautifully, just as I was sure he would. His spirit shone and his words resonated deeply with the many gathered in that space. What I heard was a message about feeling far away while surrounded by others and feeling alone amidst the crowd. Moreover, I heard the resounding message that Christ is with me regardless. Then I realized this community, that I am hesitant to consider my own any longer, is also with me regardless. While on the one hand, I may no longer "“belong,"” I was reminded that I am a loved child of this great and mighty Castle and of our great and mighty God.

I stayed after the service. I purposely hung in the background as much as possible. Yet, people seemed to come out of the woodwork to greet me. It was great to catch up with old friends and treasured people. I ended up having some wonderful conversations with some beautiful souls. And just like in the old days, the conversations ranged from laughter to compassion to discernment to truth telling to reassurance to joy.

Admittedly, some of the conversations (many?) began with me reassuring them that I am in a good space and that I consider myself fortunate to be in a situation where I do not need to accept just any offer that falls in my lap. I got a lot of the furrowed brow, caring and intent eyes, serious look, hand touching my arm greetings that expressed deep interest and concern about how I am doing. I know these looks were meant well and I take them for what they were. Someday when I'm in their position, I hope I remember not to give the same look as I greet someone awaiting call and who is feeling a little weird about being in an old, familiar space. The "“look"” actually makes it weirder instead of better for me...…but I think that ties to my own weirdness about not liking to be vulnerable.

Funny enough, the Bishops from Region 5 are on campus today. I honestly had no idea. It was nice to see and talk with my first Bishop. I was able to give a quick greeting to my current Bishop before someone else came up to talk with him. I'’m sure some think I orchestrated my visit to coincide with the Bishop'’s meeting. But, as I expressed that thought to my friend, B, I quickly followed it up with, "“I need to remember to let go of worrying about what other people might think." If I hadn'’t said it, she would have gently and lovingly reminded me. That's how she is and I treasure her for it.

That reminder was quickly followed with a professor encouraging me to attend his Fall class until I have a call, someone asking me why I lurked in the background and telling me I needed to get over that impulse, and then someone else sharing something nice that someone else had said about me. I needed all this more than I like to admit. And, as long as we're talking about admitting things...it was funny to listen to my internal commentary as I co-Presidented and mothered the community in my head..."Oh good, middlers are talking to juniors....Yes! Seniors are hanging around for coffee and conversation...Thank God! People are being quiet for announcements...Look how the community is bonding!..."

Man, it was great to be back up at the Castle and to remember that sometimes just being me where I'm at in the moment is all that God asks of me.

What I've done today

This not-having-a-call life is quite the deal. I woke up this morning, got the kids ready for school, drove carpool, went to my new job and learned how to help senior citizens with limited mobility safely stand up, came home, went to coffee with Shana at Starbucks (YAY!), changed my driver's license and social security card to reflect my new name, came home and updated my blog. Oh yeah...and got slammed by Mark on Shana's blog. How do you spell a raspberry? Pllllpphhhttt to you, Mr. I've-got-a-call-and-live-near-a-big-city-now Mark. JK. ;-)

Slamming seems to be the way of the day. Shana saw me all color coordinated (purse, shoes, clothes) and hair done when we arrived at Starbucks. She made some comment to the effect of, "Wow, check you out, coordinated and put together..." It was as if she'd never seen me this way before...oh wait, maybe it has been awhile. Maybe it's not so much a slam as it is truth telling...in Shana's case anyway...

And, random musing for the day: Did you know it only costs $1.00 to get a replacement driver's license in this town? Sometimes I just love the Midwest. In the PNW, it would probably cost at least $25.

Blimey!

Our boys love Steve Irwin, the recently deceased Crocodile Hunter (I just realised this name is a bit of a misnomer because really Irwin was all about conservation and saving wild animals....anyway, I digress). For as long as I can remember, the boys (and therefore we) have watched Steve interact with big snakes, snapping crocs, and all kinds of wildlife.

TT is especially nuts about the Crocodile Hunter. At one point in his young life, he wanted to be a croc hunter when he grew up. T's got the ADD and the thrill seeking down...now if he could just pull of an Australian accent. ;-)

The other morning, when the news broke, TT came into my bedroom and I told him what had happened. He didn't quite get it because he saw video of the Croc Hunter running on TV as I was telling him that the Croc Hunter had died. "But he's right there!" TT exclaimed. I tried to explain and we went around and around and finally I mumbled under my breath, "TT, you're in denial." C came out of the shower a few minutes later, saw us watching a broadcast about Irwin and said to TT, "Isn't it sad news, bud..." TT responded sadly and faintly, "Yeah....I'm in denial..."

Then last night, CH and I were watching Larry King and listening to Irwin's manager talk about him. CH got misty eyed (ah...my old soul child) and said, "You know, Mom, this is sad for the whole world, but it's so sad for his wife and kids...It breaks my heart to think about his family and how sad they must be." I love that boy.

Ends up, Irwin's wife, Terri, grew up in Eugene, Oregon. C was telling me he read an article about how the couple met. The article talked about her Oregonian roots. No wonder she's so cool. My heart goes out to her in her grief. What a sad, sad loss.

I Love KK

KK is our awesome, vibrant, so cool babysitter. She has been doing the vision therapy homework with TT each day for the past few days and TT is actually doing the work! Her whole family has even gotten in the act some of the days. I love the Ks!

C and I tried and tried day after day and it was a nightmare for the whole family. We sent an email to our friends in the area seeing if anyone could help. Much to our surpise, a few folks stepped forward. We went with KK because she's not afraid to insist something get done and because TT already knows her as an authority figure (a nice one, but one who doesn't buy his tricks). KK is able to get him on task...or as she said to me yesterday, "Well, he's still TT...but we make it work."

I guess when we move, we'll just have to take her with us.

Look! In the sky! It's a bird! It's a plane! It's a Lutheran!

I preached at a local congregation this morning. The text, Mark 7:1-23 with a bunch of convenient cuts from the lectionary gurus, is certainly not among my most favorite pericopes. Basically, Jesus tells the people that deep inside, they are all scum. Nice, uplifting text...

At the beginning of the service, I saw the seminary president come in. He's a member but he's always travelling so he's not there every Sunday. I had a dream last night that he came to church this morning. I guess some dreams do come true. Upon seeing him, I thought, 'Oh great, here's one of the most challenging, crazy, tear-my-hair-out-trying-to-figure-out-what-to-preach, law-recognizing-yet-attempt-to-bring- home-some-sort-of- grace sermons I've ever delivered and a systematic theologian is here to hear it.' I actually put my head on the pastor's shoulder and moaned.

I gave the sermon and it seemed to go well. The rest of the service went off without a hitch. It seemed really thematically cohesive even though 4 different people, none of whom communicated with the 0ther, assembled it. I love that Holy Spirit stuff.

After the service, Pastor J said to me, "Yeah...that's one of those texts that make it really hard to proclaim boldly "THE GOSPEL OF THE LORD" at the end of the gospel reading...I told the Assisting Minister I was really glad you were preaching and not me!"

The seminary president came up to me after the service and shook my hand. He has this way of making comments that are really funny in the moment but leave me scratching my head afterward. Today, he said, "I think that's the most Lutheran I've ever heard you." I think that was a compliment...but I'm not sure what I've sounded like before. Jewish? Hindu? Ba'Hai? Oregonian, God forbid?! Anyway, I guess I passed the test. I sound more Lutheran than ever.

So I googled "Law and Gospel" for a fitting picture for this post.
This was too weird to pass up.

Law & Gospel Desk
Train up a child in the way he should go... God's basic instructions for a happy, productive life are imprinted on the desktop for daily viewing. This desk features colorful illustrations of Moses with the Ten Commandments and the Ascension of Christ with the verse John 3:16.

Yet another reason to stay put

I love the tree in front of our house. It's a kid tree. All the kids love it, climb it, and hang on it. It's the best climbing tree in the neighborhood. And it's in a handy location when us adults hang out on Friday nights and do the campfire thing.

Although tonight, it was too sultry to have a campfire. Instead, we hung out and talked and well...had some adult beverages. It was so cool - our new neighbors invited us to come join them in the front yard. It's a great sign that they are officially part of the neighborhood when new students start inviting unemployed, not-so-recently graduated students to social events. I love this place.

By the way, the kids here do have clear facial features and, no, I was not bombed and shaking when I took the picture. It's a paranoid mom-thing - I didn't want the kids' pictures on the internet.

I think I'm done posting for the day. Four posts in one day seems a bit extreme.

Chim Chim Cheree

Yeah...so...well...TT was....um...entertaining (?) this afternoon. He....uh....climbed and walked all over the roof on the verge of a fit. Yeah, that was fun...NOT.

So here's what occurred. After school, he seemed a little edgy. A few of us parents were hanging out in the circle and he came down clothed in a hoodie sweatshirt and long pants (it was a pretty warm day so this was a bit odd). He asked us if we'd go up into the attic with him. My neighbor suggested that the attic might not only be boring, but also really hot. Someone else suggested some other activity. TT kind of shrugged his shoulders and went back inside.

I decided to pop inside to check my email. As I pulled up my browser, I saw 4 adults looking up at my roof, shouting to varying degrees of concern, insistence, and encouragement. "I wonder what's going on..." I pondered lightly for a minute. Then I entered the web address for my email (Yeah...I know...but hindsight is 20/20).

Then I heard someone say TT's name. Uh oh. I went outside to see TT not only on the roof but atop the dormer of his bedroom. He had opened his window and climbed outside. His window has no screen because....well....he destroyed it a long time ago.

He began walking all over and nearly dancing. Why? Well...he was getting loads of attention from the growing group of neighborhood kids in our front yard. Kids were yelling, "Hey, look at TT!" and "Mommy, did you see TT on the roof?!" and "What's TT doing on the roof???!!!" I tried to encourage TT to get down. Of course, simply the sound of my voice agitated him and caused him to become more and more obstinant.

[Side note: He didn't actually sweep the chimney as the pictures might suggest. We don't have a chimney, so it would be kind of hard to sweep it anyway.]

Our neighbor is not only a special ed teacher, she is also brilliant. She suggested we all ignore him. Or maybe I suggested it and she told everyone to do so. I don't remember exactly. But I'll give her the credit. Ignoring him took the wind out of his sails. And it ticked him off.

I told him he'd be in time out as long as the amount of time he spent on the roof. He said in his best Andrew T tone: "Oh yeah, well I'll just stay out her all night!!!" I didn't respond. He climbed back into his bedroom but then back on the roof. He began throwing Max Steel action figures off the roof. After he'd pulled poor Max's legs off. One neighbor, trying hard to not look, asked me to make sure and warn her if one came close to her head as it flew downward.

Eventually, the other kids lost interest (well...we wouldn't let them look or talk about it, so how fun could it be?). Then the youth room opened. TT is always a sucker for the youth room. "Can I go to the youth room, Mommy?" he asked from up on the rooftop. I responded non-chalantly, "I don't talk to my kids when they aren't inside the house or on the ground." He asked again. I repeated my answer without looking at him.

He begrudgingly came inside. I went inside through the front door. He asked again. I told him he could go to the youth room after a time out. Much to my surprise, he sat down on the magic time out stair. After a few minutes, he asked if he'd been there long enough. I told him I wasn't calmed down enough yet, so no. He waited a few more minutes and asked again. I said no again but I told him he was almost done. He waited a few more minutes and I told him he could get out of time out.

Then we talked. I asked him why he felt like he needed to climb up on the roof. He said: "Because it helps me remember when I was a baby." Huh?! "What do you mean?" I asked. He responded, "It helps me remember all my memories and all my feelings from when I was a baby. Sad. Happy. Everything." How does one respond to this? I just let it go. Then I told him he had to tell me he was sorry because he'd been sassy to me, he had to tell the neighbors he was sorry because their little kids saw him making dangerous choices, and had to go with me to Target on an errand because I wasn't sure I could trust him with a sitter at the moment. He asked: "Can I go back to time out and not go to Target?" I relented - mostly because I really didn't want him to go with me anyway. Then he said his sorries and my brilliant neighbor responded by saying, "We're so glad you're down here. I'm glad you're safe." Then the issue was not belabored and I took him up to the youth room on my way to Target, my second favorite place to spend money in this town (after the newly established utopia known as Starbucks).

This thrill seeking stuff is a bit exhausting. I'm thankful for the years of experience TT has given us, though, because it really helps me stay calm, cool and collected in the moments of....errrrr....excitement in life.

Oh, and by the way, I found a bunch of great bargains at Target. I just love Target.

Thanks, but no thanks

The Assistant to the Bishop was a peach when I told him I was removing my name for consideration at the congregation I recently visited. We had a wonderful conversation and he was very supportive of my decision. There are 4 solid solo pastorate possibilities for me in the synod right now. One will soon begin interviewing and 3 others may involve a bit of a wait. There are also 3 other possibilities depending upon how their processes shake out. I'm willing to wait and they are willing to hold on to me. Yay.

I also called the church and spoke to the Senior Pastor, who said he'd expected I might call and say what I had to say. He asked if there was anything I would suggest for the call team in future rounds, which was a nice gesture and showed mutuality. The staff and call team were just beginning to gather for a meeting to talk about me and their experiences with me. Guess they can just head out to coffee now...or maybe talking about me will be fun for them anyway. Let's all admit it, sometimes it's just fun to talk about people, right?

A painless, positive experience all around. Now, a bit of waiting before the next round of excitement comes on the horizon.

The Never Mind Saloon

I'm waiting for the synod to return my call. I've discerned as best as I'm able that the church where I just interviewed is not the fit for me.

A great deal of the decision comes down to the increasingly clearer call to serve in a solo pastorate church. My home Bishop and Regional Director stated such at my approval interview, many of my professors have said the same. Friends and colleagues have often mentioned that a solo pastorate or co-pastorate (co, not senior/associate model) seem like the best fits for who I am and what I bring to ministry. But, for whatever strange and bizarre reason known only possibly to God, the three calls that 2 different synods have pondered for me have all been associate calls.

Being a responsible steward of the gifts God has lent me to use while here on Earth means honoring God's trust in my abilities to use those gifts to their potential. I'm not convinced that this latest church offers that opportunity. A solo pastorate position would offer more opportunities to preach (and we all know how much I like to talk. ha ha). It would offer my independent spirit a bit more freedom, flexibility, and fluidity. Being the only pastor at a church would provide a full range of pastoral experiences and ministry opportunities instead of only a portion and a program area or two.

There are other reasons this one isn't the right fit. A few theological concerns exist but they'd be managable if all else was falling into place. The large size concerns me as I ponder TT, with his anxiety of large facilities and crowds of people, and CH, with his introverted and quiet manner, fitting into the church family. There is no job description and the verbal description seems to shift depending upon who is talking. There are red flags here and there that don't need to be shared in detail for the world to see. But they are there, flying to differing degrees of height.

The Bishop told me this interview would help me discern my call more clearly. I think he might have been hoping for the opposite result. Instead, looks like I'll be frequenting the haunt in the town where I interviewed:

Now I can never leave...

Aaaaahhhh. I came back to town after a couple days away at an interview and behold! What did I see? The Promised Land. Eden. Heaven. The land of the coffee muse framed by blue skies and white puffy clouds. The beauty of the Starbuckian Queen high atop the building. The scents of steaming mochas. The sounds of milk being steamed. What do you know, maybe all that talk about this being God's country is true.

And it's even a DRIVE THROUGH paradise! What more could a post-moder n girl ask for?

How could I possibly even consider leaving this thriving metropolis now?

A fitting prayer for the day

Either my mom or dad sent this to me today (they share an email address). It seemed particularly fitting for where I'm at right now. I hope it also speaks to you:

May today there be peace within. May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be. May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith. May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you. May you be content knowing you are a child of God. Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. It is there for each and every one of us.

TTs latest line

Tonight, I took the boys to Applebee's. Wednesday is "kids eat free" night and C had other plans. I was left needing to figure out a dinner plan and we all know how much I love to cook (!).

On Wednesdays, there is a magician that comes by the tables and entertains the families. He came by our table tonight and did some great tricks. After 2 tricks, he paused and said: "Hmmm...what other trick shall I do for you tonight?"

TT answered: "Can you make me float?"

Discernment

How does one discern the will of God and the calling of the Holy Spirit? Boy, I wish I had a definitive answer to this question! In the past, one question has aided in the process of discernment: Is the option at hand life-giving or life-draining? The pastor I interviewed with back in May suggested, "When you close your eyes, do you see all kinds of possibilities or do you catch yourself saying, 'Yes, but....' "

Over the years, there have been times it's been clear for me. Honestly, though, the clarity usually comes as a result of hindsight. For example, I've asked myself on and off these last months: "Why am I still waiting for a call?" Then last week, a 15 year old told me I was the only person she could talk to about some rotten and tough things that were going on in her life. She may still think I did her a favor by running over when she called. Truly, though, she invited me to experience holy ground while sitting on her bedroom floor and talking about the sometimes sucky-realities of life.

Or like awhile back when I supplied at that country church. There, I was reminded of the gifts God has lent me to use. There, I was reminded that God does call me to ordained ministry.

Last night, I interviewed at a church. I'm really discerning if I want to be in a pastoral/staff team or in a situation where I'm the only pastor (the term 'solo pastorate' doesn't really jive with my understanding of ministry because we're never really solo in ministry, are we?). A lot of things are clicking and seem like the right fit at this large church. A lot of thoughts and experiences pull me the other direction. I'm not sure where the teeter-totter balances as of yet.

As I discern, I've got friends who hold me accountable, speak truth in love, and send me emails telling me to back up the train and consider the entire range of scenery surrounding the track I'm on. I'm a lucky girl. Thanks for the email, JB.

First Day of School 2006

The first day of school is always such a bittersweet experience for me as a Mom. As it approaches, I can’t wait for it to arrive. I even catch myself counting down the days sometimes during the dog days of summer. Once I return home from dropping the kids off for the first day of school, though, I can’t believe how empty and quiet the house feels. It just doesn’t seem right.

Even the cats don't seem to know what to do. Right now, Arwen is running up and down the stairs making that funny noise cats make that’s between a purr and a meow, and she is looking for a playmate. Aragorn is jumping up on desks and couches knocking things over and looking for trouble. The playmates they are seeking are the same ones they tend to avoid when the kids are home. They both seem a bit aimless. I suppose Arwen, Aragorn, and I have something in common this morning.

As I look around the neighborhood, I see bikes here and there, scattered along the lawns and sidewalks without riders. The playground sits as a lonely memorial to summer days gone by. The big mud puddle (and bane to most parents' existence) sits smooth as glass with unmoving buckets littering its edges. The cul-de-sac feels empty and desolate, and I find myself all wistful and teary.

As I kissed TT goodbye (CH would definitely not tolerate such a public display of emotion as he enters 5th grade!), I felt like my body began to walk down the stairs toward the van as my hand longed to stretch to keep hold of him. This year, I’m entrusting him to the same teacher CH had for 2nd grade. I love her. I trust her implicitly. She’s one of the greatest teachers at the school. Just the same, every year it's the same thing. I always feel like there are 100 little things I want to make sure the teacher knows, 100 idiosyncratic TTisms that are important for her to fully understand, 1000s of little details that will make a difference in his day and hers.

I long to be a part of the boys' experiences, even though the fullness of their own experiences would be lacking if I were there every moment. I want to watch them as they greet the friends they haven’t seen all summer. I want to see the joy in CH’s eyes as he gets excited about what this year will hold. I want to hold TTs hand as his anxiety brews under the surface and he wonders how hard 2nd grade will be. I know in my heart of hearts that the talk he and I had last night is not over – his fears and worries are still far more than he deserves to bear. I know if I were there, I would be tempted to take away the threats and the concerns and the fears. I would want to attempt to smooth over any rough spots. Doing so would actually get in the way more than it would help. Just the same, knowing this doesn’t preclude the maternal urges to do so.

I suppose what it all comes down to, as tears fall down my cheeks, is yet another step along the way of letting go of my babies. It’s hard to believe these zany, fascinating young men are the same babes I rocked to sleep years ago. Wasn’t it just yesterday we brought home these swaddled miracles from the hospital?! Wasn’t it just last week they took their first steps, said their first words, and gave me sloppy, wonderful baby kisses? Where in the world has the time gone?

My life as a mother is quite a roller coaster. The parts of the ride I talk about most often involve the challenges, the trials, and the confusion. Another part of the ride involves the constant, unending process of watching my precious babies grow and become more and more independent. This part is both the dip in the infrastructure and the uphill ratcheting of the ride promising greater thrills ahead. It’s the part that finds my gut in my throat as I attempt to catch my breath. It’s the part when I wish the ride would just pause for a moment as I attempt to savor every detail, experience and feeling of the wonderful ride of motherhood.

How I've spent my day

Ok...here's me at a Buffett concert and here's me on a Sunday morning. Can you tell which is which? As Jimmy sings: "Oooohhh...there's a thin line between Saturday night and Sunday morning."