Archive | August, 2011

[AAA] Fears.

8 Aug
It’s getting real, folks.  There are moments when I think, “I can’t wait to get on the road and drive to the last frontier!” but then there are moments when I think, “Holy sh**.  I’m going to drive to Alaska?!”  I tried to find a companion but it looks like I’m doing it solo.  Most of the time, I’m okay with that.  [Honestly, the thought of sixty hours in a small confined space with one person – the same person – gives me hives.  Curse you, introvert.  How I’d ever be married and survive it I don’t know.]  But sometimes, my mom sneaks into my ear and I worry that doing it alone is risky. 
I put official AK plates on Betty this morning.  She’ll love the last frontier; I just know it.
It doesn’t much matter one way or the other.  I have a plane ticket and thus need to be in Anchorage by August 19th.  Drive to Alaska I will.  But not without a few fears [irrational, silly, and other] –
Car trouble.  Dear God, please let nothing go wrong with the car.  Amen.  [Feel free to repeat this prayer for me over and over and over.  And over.  I’m at the car dealership right now and Betty is getting checked out.  I’m confident, barring any unforeseen circumstances, she’ll be healthy for the trip.]
I hit a moose or mountain goat.  [My friend, Allen, challenged me to take a picture of every moose I see. Challenge accepted.  That’s probably how I’ll end up hitting one.]
I get halfway into North Dakota and go crazy, asking myself why in the heck I ever signed up to do this.  [I don’t think this will happen.  Well, at least not until I reach Alberta.]
Border crossing complications.
The radio fails to work.  [Sprocket’s radio blew a fuse again.  I have no music there and deal.  But 60 hours without music or podcasts or audiobooks?  Oh man … I’m getting hives again.]
I start to get tired of driving and want to stop for the night but the next hint of civilization is 100 miles down the road.  [I guess that’s when I would pump Party Rock and jam out.]
Fears aside, I’m excited too.  I’m excited for an adventure, to see Canada, to have a bit of a find-myself accomplishment, to see Jetta [my brother’s dog], and to see this place my brother loves living.  I’m also excited for cooler temperatures.  I’m packing cardigans and scarves and so excited to wear them.  [It doesn’t take much, folks.]

a wedding & a werewolf.

7 Aug
The day had arrived.  Friends Krissy and Matt were to be married and I was the one doing the ceremony.  It was my first official wedding I had officiated and the first time I’d ever signed a marriage license.  It was a full day leading up to the wedding at 6pm.  We had rehearsal in the backyard of Krissy’s parent’s house [where the wedding would take place – a beautiful yard with a pond] in the late morning and from that point on, it seemed I was on child duty.  There were seven [yes.  seven.] children under the age of eight in the ceremony and they needed lunch, naps, tuxes, and guidance for pictures.  There is just something about small short children in tuxes – they look like such little men.  Oh for cute.
three of the seven.
The wedding began only a few minutes late, complicated by a processional song that was not quite the one the bride had picked out and a few issues with the aisle runner.  Krissy and Matt stood before me and in front of one hundred family and friends who had gathered for the occasion.  Things were going well.
Except one of the bride’s sons walked up the aisle with a major attitude attached.  I’m not sure what had happened and I was too focused on Krissy and Matt to see what he was doing during the ceremony.  Crouched on the ground between the best man and the groom, he dug in the dirt with a stick and apparently, at one point, shoved grass down his brother’s shirt.  There was something more about dirt and throwing.  It didn’t much matter because, as if that didn’t distract the bride and groom and assembly enough, there was more.
Right around the time of the vows and rings, a mangy old Husky dog wandered into the ceremony and right up to where the bridal party stood.  This thrilled the children who were standing up front – they went right to petting the questionable dog and scratching his stomach.  I see this happening – as does everyone else present – and I can’t hold it together.  There’s a flippin’ dog to my left who just appeared and is now enjoying the attention.  And I’m almost worried the dog might hurt the kids.  What do I do?!  I stare at my papers and try to focus.  Laughter exploded once more when Evan, always a Twilight fan [thanks to his mother’s influence], asks, in reference to the dog, “Is it a werewolf?!”  I can’t even look at the bride and the groom because they are stifling laughter.  This was a point when ad-libbing and throwing a joke in would be good – but I’m just horrid on my feet.  Something to learn and grow.

But the wedding happened, surprise guest and all.  [It’s a neighbor’s dog, I guess.  He heard the party happening and wanted to see what was up.]  The wedding happened, Krissy and Matt are legally married, and the reception was fun.  The dinner and dance was held in a tent right next to where we had the ceremony.  I’ll admit I was skeptical when she said they were having their reception in a tent but it was  an awesome tent.  A Harry Potter tent, as Allen would call it.  There was dancing, a fireworks display, and bubble blowing.  The combination of champagne and the bouncy house only caused one bridesmaid to get sick.  [Just one!  Victory.]  A party rock anthem, sweet caroline, and both nsync and lady gaga.  I had a great time with Banana Lynn and Kyle, Allen, Timmy, and David – friends I don’t see all too often.  I am never opposed to the attention and affection my protective male friends from high school give me including dances aplenty, a “lover’s stroll” around the pond [with five others], and a few “sweetheart” and “darling” pet names; it was good and fun and I love them all.  
Next Banana wedding: Lynn and Kyle’s in September.  This is one where I’m joining pastoral forces with another pastor and will be delivering the message.  Wooten!  Can’t wait!

Itching.

5 Aug
Pinterest has me itching for my own place.  For a blank slate.  I’m looking forward to putting my creative urges to work come September, especially because of these photos …
Cover bricks in pretty paper for bookends.

Use a small tension rod in the cupboard to hold small spices.

I will paint a wall gray.  

Crates!

literary creation.

5 Aug
How in love am I with this idea?
Very.
Thank you, npr.
“… the world [is] more than a place.  
Life [is] more than an event.  
It [is] all one thing, and that thing [is]: story.”
photo credit due here.
The author continues to write that if life is all a story, then we are the narrators.  But in order to be narrators, we must be attentive.  We have to wake up and listen.  To look for a story in unlikely places and then take the time to share what we saw.  He compares the world to a library, lending and sharing stories to those who take the time to check them out.
That’s one thing this blog does for me.  I see stories and deliberately take the time to narrate them.  It’s my virtual scrapbook and journal.  I take note of the things that happen and write them down to share.  I find joy in rereading the stories from weeks, months, and years past but also find happiness in knowing that these stories are shared and enjoyed by others – by you.  But now I must ask – how are you being attentive and sharing your stories?  Blogs, raps, haikus, letters, napkin notes and posters on the wall.  Be creative in your sharing and live your own life as an act of literary creation.  Eyes open and pen at the ready … ready? set? live.

wedding frustrations.

4 Aug
Weddings have me frustrated these days.  Theologically, culturally, socially … I’m confused and not quite sure about a lot of things.  This is in no regard to myself having a wedding [loooong way off, folks] but rather in regards to doing weddings.  Recall with me [least you forget after my million+one blog posts about it] that I was ordained a few weeks ago.  Pastor Lindsay here.  With the office of pastor is the state recognizing that I can perform wedding ceremonies legally.  Perfect, because I have one to perform this coming Saturday.
I’m finding it to be a fine line – a fine line with complicated turns and steep confusion.  I love it that family and friends ask me to be a part of their weddings in this way as an officiant or preacher.  I love being involved in their day, especially when it does not require me purchasing a $200 dress, $60 shoes, and paying for $80 alterations on an outfit I’ll never wear again.  [Been there, done that and it was fun.  But in my current unemployed state, not purchasing a dress is fine by me!]  But sometimes I wonder if I’m asked to do the ceremony because I’m the easy route and likely the cheap route.  That’s one complication but then theology and culture begin to meld together in interesting ways – ways that, frankly, make me uncomfortable as a pastor.  
I’m called to be a pastor and feel strongly that to marry people is done in a service of praise.  We praise God for the love that He first gives to us, and for the love the we are called to share with others.  We praise God and we make promises before God.  Not only the wedding couple, either, is responsible to uphold their promises to each other, but the assembly gathered promises to lift up the couple in support and prayer.  A wedding is a service of praise and thanksgiving; it is a worship service.  
I’m not quite sure what to do when the couples that I marry – those whom are friends and in my family and whom I love dearly – don’t agree with this approach to the wedding ceremony.  I’m not quite sure what to do when they ask for God language to be removed and for prayers to be few or even completely absent.  I don’t know what to suggest when they don’t want the readings to come from Scripture or how to address the urgency to just get the ceremony over because the party is to follow.  And just because I can doesn’t mean I feel it’s right to just go out and marry people – I think that pre-marital counseling and thoughtful planning [other than just the dress and menu] needs to be considered.  I never dreamed I would feel so conflicted when I agreed [happily and readily!] to do these weddings.
I’m just confused.  Like I said, I’m honored that they asked me to be a part of their day and I’m happy to help them in this way.  But I’m torn between pleasing them and their wants in a wedding service to my convictions in faith of what a wedding really is and my call as a pastor.  Is my job to help them plan the ceremony they want?  That’s where I’ve landed right now, and I think I’ve landed there because, well, it’s easiest.  Not being a part of a church quite yet and with the couples being close friends/family, I feel it’s my duty to go along with whatever they desire.  But to me, that kinda feels like cheating.  Cheating God, cheating the office of pastor, or cheating the couple – I’m not sure.  Likely a bit of all of those.
Culture is no help in this regard.  It’s the show of the wedding and then the reception that is the focus.  The wedding industry makes little profit on the religiosity, order of service, or anything else that directly deals with the details of the actual service.  The focus is on the dress, the decor, and the cake.  I’m all for pretty weddings and fancy receptions if you really want to pay for it, but the ceremony and the promises made before God and the loved ones gathered is the reason for it all.  Can’t we put a little more thought, energy, and time into the meaning of the day?  [It’s like the fight over Christmas all over again …]
If anything, this wedding planning and officiating is making me more aware and prepared as I will come up against this year after year when doing weddings.  [But I also feel I will have more authority to address it as a pastor in a church.]  It is also helping me think about my own far-far-off wedding that may perhaps happen someday.  Wedding industry be damned – I vow to not buy into it when it’s my turn.  It’s not for me, and, honestly, the whole of it makes me angry.  It also helps me to understand what I’ve heard muttered from many pastor’s lips and why many would say they’d rather do a funeral than a wedding.  [Not that funerals are good or happy that someone has died … but you know what I mean.  Right?]

[AAA] Companions.

3 Aug
Thus begins the blogging of the August Alaskan Adventure.
I toyed with the idea of starting a new blog simply to chronicle the hours of driving and sitting in a car but then landed on keeping just the one blog.  You all stop here already; no sense redirecting you elsewhere.  My August Alaskan Adventure blogs will be identified henceforth by the acronym [AAA].
It’s the real deal now.  I bought my return flight ticket last night.  I fly from Anchorage to Long Beach to Chicago in the course of 14 hours beginning in the wee hours of Saturday, August 20th.  But first, I must to get to Alaska.
I’ll explain once more the reason for this adventure.  My brother, Ben, moved to Valdez, AK a few months ago.  As he moved, he drove his diesel truck and pulled his camper.  Since arriving in AK and loving his new location, he has sold his camper.  While he was home oh-so-briefly for the auction this past weekend, he mentioned how he wished he had his car with him in Valdez.  [He had left his car at home and actually tried to sell it with no luck.]  Diesel is expensive and without a camper to pull, he doesn’t need such a big truck.  He doesn’t have the time off to drive his car back and so I raised my hand.  I have the month of August and as long as he is paying the gas, I’m game for an adventure.  And so [AAA] began to be planned.
Just as Frodo set off from Rivendale with seven [seven?] companions, so I will be leaving Edgerton at the end of next week with a few of my own.  
First, meet Betty.  That’s what I’ll call the Subaru Outback that will be my constant companion and ride.  We think Betty is in pretty good mechanical order, but we might get her in for a check-up before departure just to be sure.  Betty already has a hatchback full of things that Ben wants in AK, including old [we’re talking like antique old] skis and rowboat paddles that extend up past the middle console and near the shifter.  Betty might need some packing readjustments before we spend a week together.
Second, the Milepost.  You likely can’t read the header at the top of this hefty guide so please, allow me.  “Since 1949, the bible of north country travel.”  This will tell me where to find gas, when to watch out for moose, and where I can stop and have a photo op with a t-rex.  [Milk River, Alberta, Canada]  This hefty book will be my friend and guide for the next couple weeks as I plan my route, my stays, and actually make the drive.
My cousin, Paul, might tag along too but haven’t heard back from him for certain.  I’ll likely bring a gnome too.  It will be nice to have someone to talk to when cell service fails me and I need a break from Josh Groban.  I’m excited and nervous to take the trip; I honestly think I’m a bit in denial about what 60 hours of driving really means.  Here’s hoping I find places to stay with wifi along the way so you can be with me as I slowly go crazy amidst the mountains and mounty men of Canada.

speaking of letters –

2 Aug
I learned a trick today.  Not juggling or magic, but nearly as thrilling.
I’ve frequented the Edgerton Post Office since returning home as it meets all my postage and mailing needs.  Mr.Bill behind the window has become my friend.  He often asks me how I am and then compliments my sister’s latest photo in the paper.  [Or so it seems happens often enough.]  
Today, Mr.Bill let me into the inside.  The inner workings of the USPS.  To what’s behind the blue uniforms.
I went to mail a 5×7 manilla envelope.  Maybe it was 6×9.  Anyways, he said it fell within the dimensions of a letter and it wasn’t stuffed thick enough that it needed to go as a package.  He saved me nearly fifty cents by telling me the secret.
In order for it to be considered a letter and not a package, those metal clasp tong separator things – you following me? – had to be pressed down underneath the flap and then the flap is taped/sealed shut.  If those metal clasp tong separator things are put through the punched hole and then pressed down, it is considered a package and thus, more money to send.
I fixed that sucker right there, Mr.Bill hooked me up with packaging tape, and I was out the door, fifty cents richer.
Let us all thank Mr. Postmaster Bill.

write a letter.

2 Aug
Last month I challenged myself to send a piece of snail mail for every day of that month.  I sent balloons, old knitting magazines, a magical wand, lots of ordination information, a letter accepting a call to a church, and pictures I cut into a puzzle.  Oh, and wooden chickens.  I didn’t walk to the mailbox or go to the post office everyday, but there were many days when I put in two, three, or forty pieces of mail.  I easily used thirty-one forty-four cent stamps.  Plus some.  
I’ll admit though – some days it felt like a chore.  Some days I dragged my feet or made myself get up extra early to write a postcard to get in the mail.  I think I’m happy to return to the casual sending of snail mail.  [Not that any of the mail I sent was void of care and love.  Not true.]
I wrote a letter tonight.  A real letter.  I sat down at my sewing table, pushed the sewing machine to the side, and filled a lovely piece of textured cardstock front and back.  I love writing letters.  I think there is something so sacred about snail mail.  Not about the bills we put stamps on or the invitations where will fill in the party information – but true letters.  There’s something special about the words crafted and the person who reads them upon arrival, hopefully sensing the love and care and time that went into the letter.  A letter has to be pre-meditated.  It takes supplies and a little thought.  I think it takes me more time to actually write than to type; many times I fight the urge to type and print a letter, signing only my name.  I fight it because handwriting and handwritten letters are just that much cooler in my eyes.
Write a letter to someone you love.  Put a stamp on it and put it in the mail.  Go 1980s on your communication.  Do it.  I think you’ll like it, and I think the person on the receiving end will love it.

cakepop challenge III.

1 Aug
The video that was filmed over two weeks ago has finally been edited and ready for your viewing pleasure.  This concludes this cooking pastor series, but I’m certain more will follow.  [Maybe one with qie on a stick, according to a text I received from Kendall this morning.  … his ‘p’ key doesn’t work.]
Missed the first installments in this series?  I’ve added a “cooking pastor” tab at the top of the blog – right under the header.  Click there to catch up!

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