Archive | November, 2011

DEAR

14 Nov
Do you remember DEAR time from elementary school?  [Drop Everything And Read]  I loved DEAR time.  I was that kid with her nose in a book all the time.  All the time.  
I hereby reinstate DEAR time in my life.
When I was at the fall theological conference, it seemed people were constantly suggesting I read this book or that.  They would tell me that this one book sounded a lot like what I was going through or talking about or they found that one other book really helpful in their first year of call.  Forget the pile of books that are already on my shelves, waiting to be read or reread post-seminary [now with a context to which apply them].
I hereby promise to make the best attempt I can to read for 30 minutes during each work day.  Thirty minutes of theological, devotional, or educational reading.  Maybe more.
I always felt guilty sitting in my office and reading.  I felt like I should be doing something.  Fall theological helped me realize that reading is doing something and it is part of my job.  It belongs in the office and deserves at least 30 minutes of my day.  jD and I are holding each other accountable … or at least trying.
First up: Sabbath, by Wayne Muller.
Perfect in many ways for my life right now.  Perfect because I often feel like this:

A ‘successful’ life has become a violent enterprise.  We make war on our own bodies, pushing them beyond their limits; war on our children, because we cannot find enough time to be with them when they are hurt and afraid, and need our company; war on our spirit, because we are too preoccupied to listen to the quiet voices that seek to nourish and refresh us; war on our communities, because we are fearfully protecting what we have, and do not feel safe enough to be kind and generous; war on the earth, because we cannot take the time to place our feet on the ground and allow it to feed us, to taste its blessings and give thanks. [p. 2]

And want the ability to feel like this:

Sabbath implies a willingness to be surprised when creation renews itself, when what is finished inevitably recedes, and the sacred forces of healing astonish us with the unending promise of love and life. [p. 37]  

the curse of two.

11 Nov
Number two.
[no.  not that.]
Enneagram number two.
The enneagram is a personality system.  Nine numbers, each with different manners of thinking, living, and acting in life. I find both comfort and challenge in knowing my enneagram and being able to see the ways I feel and live through that lens. 
I’m a two.  A giver/helper.  And one cursed to always feel like I’m disappointing other people and foregoing my own needs to be in service to others.
In ministry, this has its place.  Definitely.  But lately, I’m feeling more how it drains and consumes me.
I hit a certain low today.  It’s my day off and I can’t help but feel all the ways I’ve failed/let people down this week.  It didn’t help any that work called me away to a conference for two of my workdays [which was a good thing until the stress of today].  I didn’t return the rake to the proper custodian closet and he had to go get it himself.  I should have called about the microphone issues we’re having earlier in the week instead of scrambling to fix it on Thursday, perhaps now facing a Sunday without my microphone in working order.  I didn’t make any visits this week and upon discovery of the previous pastor’s milage reports in the file cabinet today, I find he visited at least one person a day.  Things that have been on my to-do list for weeks still remain, consistently being pushed further back.  It’s my day off but I’m spending it doing everything I think I should have done earlier so I won’t let anyone else down.
And really – have I let anyone down?  No one has told me such.  But that’s what I sense.  That’s what I feel I know.  I have this fear that I’m not living up to the congregation’s expectations of a pastor.  I need counseling.  [Seriously.  I will be exploring the avenue of counseling as soon as I figure out how to find someone in my health care network.  The synod encourages us as pastors to find a counselor.]  I don’t hear much positive feedback [except that I have great children’s sermons] so I’m always wondering where I really stand.  [So, naturally, I think they don’t like me when in actuality, maybe they’re simply not vocalizing what they’re thinking.  Apparently I crave feedback.]
I’ve heard again and again from other new pastors that in the first year I must be patient with myself.  I need to give myself grace and remind myself that I’m always learning.  But do I really need to face a whole first year of feelings like this?  I sure hope not because that would suck.  [I should also add that I realize this is not an exclusive number two issue, but it’s how I can easily put into words my own issues.]
*over-exaggerated sigh*  So that’s my current emotional state.  Please excuse me now while I eat a bowl of chili [mmm.  with noodles.  comfort food.], begin a Harry Potter night of both Deathly Hallows films [#2 was released today.], and exercise the self-care I have lacked so far today.  [Another facet of the two: two’s will often care for others and their own needs remain unmet.  That’s not good either.]  
I’m trying and trying to do my best.  That’s all I can do.  [Right?]

ps. I blogged here again today.  And I’m thankful for you.

perfection.

10 Nov
This is my picture of perfect.

No snow here yet, and none in the forecast.  That won’t prevent me from getting the Christmas tree out of it’s box mighty soon and making this as my tree skirt while watching Elf.

thankful on paper [2].

10 Nov
It’s time to be thankful again.  Here we go.
It’s quite possible today’s thank you note recipients will read this blog before the card shows up in their mailbox.  I really should send my notes out on Tuesday instead of Wednesday …
Today, I am incredibly thankful for Grandpa Bob and Grandma Julie.  [Not to leave out dear Grandpa Sid.  I’m thankful for him too.  I sent him a letter last week about lutefisk.  It’s his favorite.  Geeps is always one for a good story and tales of his life growing up.  And he made me a coat rack and lazy suzan for my spices in my cupboard.  He’s pretty handy.]
I started to write the thank you note and quickly found that the list of things for which to thank them was too long to fit in the card.  They helped me move and they gave me a gnome for my new place.  They’re super supportive of my call into ministry. They took me out for Chinese.  Grandma sends me greeting cards for every major holiday, and always invites me to her knitting coffee group when I’m home.  I bet Grandpa would even be willing to help me make this.  [*wink*]
I especially feel like Grandma and I bonded this past summer.  I was home, jobless and – most of the time – bored.  I would stop by in town often and we would have weekly – if not twice or three times a week – phone conversations.  I could normally call it when the phone rang and I hadn’t talked to her for a couple days – it’s Grandma Julie!  There were a couple times we caught up on life for well over a half hour.  
They’re pretty awesome as far as grandparents go, along with Grandpa Sid on the right.  [Grandma will tell me she hates this photo.  Sorry, Grandma.]

that’s strange.

10 Nov
Another story about how I’m single?  Oh, sure.  Certain people seem to focus on it so why shouldn’t I?  [read: sarcasm]
But this one is pretty funny.
The same man at the assisted living facility that told me weeks ago that I should get a move on was in worship this past Sunday.  I talked to him at coffee hour and it was evident he didn’t remember the last conversation we had because this one started like this:
You married?
Nope.
[dramatic pause]
That’s strange.

That’s strange.
Thanks.

a baby visit.

9 Nov
I arrived home from LaCrosse on Tuesday at the exact perfect time to greet seminary friend, Kari, her husband, Chris … and their baby, Markus!
Kari, Chris & co. live in Washington state and have been on a whirwind midwest tour for the past week visiting family and friends.  I was lucky enough to be their last stop before they headed for the airport and home to the west coast.  
We ate dinner, cooed a lot with the baby, and caught up on all things life. 
It was lovely.
And Markus is absolutely darling.  Absolutely darling.  And a flirt.  He knows he’s cute.  How can you look at this and not agree?

theological high.

9 Nov

[A politically correct title?  Likely not.  Oh well.]
Fall theological conference for pastors, baby!
Paige and I left Owatonna Sunday afternoon bound for Rochester where we would meet up with jD.  Not due to arrive to pick up the missing third of the triple threat, Paige and I stopped for lunch.  Here.  It’s kind of a classy place; a place that most of the people in the area know about and have been.  I’m fairly certain we walked in and lowered the average age of restaurant guests by about 40 years.  It was the Sunday-after-church-older crowd.  We stopped for chocolates at the chocolate shoppe across the street and then were off again, ready and poised for more adventures.
Once we were three in the car, we began discussing how we wished the car ride was longer.  I was looking forward to going off with friends but I just wasn’t sure that I was prepared for a two-day conference with stodgy pastors.  Alas, we arrived, checked into our hotel rooms and took a deep breath as we entered the reception area and cash-bar-with-the-bishop before dinner and the official start of the conference.  
To recap: We enjoyed the journey.  We were uncertain of the actual conference and reason for travel.  Would it be enjoyable or just boring as all get out?  These fears were real.
It turned out our uncertainties were not actualized.  Hooray!  While there certainly are some stodgy pastors [you can’t tell me everyone at a dentist convention is full of fun either], I met some awesome colleagues.  Both nights we were there included pastor hang out sessions in various hotel rooms.  It felt comfortable to be with other pastors who understand, who can also take off their ‘pastor hat,’ and who can have a good time.  One particular pastor – who shall remain nameless – made his way into my heart with his rebellious side and cursing mouth.  We’re just people, people.
I got to see dear Karen of Stillwater – the one who now works on the synod staff – and she invited Paige and I to the secret seventh floor appetizer parties.  I met other first call friends and had lunch with the bishop.  It was, however, eventually time to leave.  jD, Paige, and I piled back into Sprocket, bound for Chinese food before leaving LaCrosse.  The resulting restaurant find was not overly pleasant and none of us were brave enough to try the number five.  
There is a price to pay for the crazy faith-filled fun of clergy.  Hot tea is now my best friend as I nurse a sore throat and icky nose deal.  Lack of sleep and that darn sleep-number bed that would not cooperate I will blame.  [We tried to figure out our sleep number but the remotes were too advanced for our kind.]  I will conclude, however, that fall theological conference ranked quite high in my book.  It was a high I needed and a renewal that came at the right time.  I feel – at least a little – rejuvenated for ministry back in the grove.  

off to lacrosse.

6 Nov
I blogged here today.

And now I’m off for the southeastern Minnesota synod fall theological conference until Tuesday.
Translation: Paige, jD, and I are going to LaCrosse.  [Together, of course.]  We will listen to a key speaker, worship with all other SE MN synod pastors, stay in a hotel, and go pastor crazy.  For us, that might mean a board game and a couple large cranberry juices.  Watch out.
Mabel is being boarded for the first time while I’m away.  This pastor may shed a tear or two if the parting is full of sorrow.  But I think she may have fun.
And now I leave you with the text I preached on today for All Saint’s Sunday:

See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are.  The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him.  Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed.  What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is.  And all who have this hope in him purify themselves, just as he is pure.  [1 John 3:1-3]

story of my life.

5 Nov
Source: pete.com via Lindsay on Pinterest

less than perfect.

4 Nov
Two songs: F**kin’ Perfect by Pink and That I Would Be Good by Alanis Morissette.
I’m never totally up on the music scene so excuse me if I’m way behind the times.  I just heard the Pink song on the radio a few weeks ago.  The second song is an older one.  I recall listening to it in a pastoral care class and my recent renewed addiction to Dawson’s Creek has brought it to my attention again.  It was used in a recent episode and caught my ear.  They’re good songs, people.  Good songs. 

You’re so mean when you talk about yourself … change the voices in your head … make them like you instead.  Pretty pretty please don’t you ever ever feel like you’re less than – less than perfect.  Pretty pretty please if you ever ever feel like you’re nothing, you are perfect … to me.  

... that I would be good even if I got a thumbs down … that I would be good if I got and stayed sick … that I would be good even if I gained ten pounds … that I would be loved even when I’m not myself … that I would be good even if I lost sanity … that I would loved even if I wasn’t myself …

I like these songs particularly lately because I of all people need to hear them.  I resonate.  I may be mistaken as a confident young woman but, more often than not, I’m insecure, unsure, and fearful.  
I need to change the voices in my head.  My thoughts of late are constantly filled with judgement, self-doubt, and mistakes.  I second guess my decisions and consistently tell myself that I don’t do enough.  
It’s not that I’m not given grace.  It’s not that I’m not learning and growing in skill and confidence.  It’s not that I’m not supported.  Perhaps it’s how I function and a little enneagram #2 coming into play.  [I blame my 2-ness a lot.  Perhaps that needs to be a blog post of the future.]  Perhaps it’s how my history has seasoned me to act.  Perhaps it’s greater culture.  
Whatever it may be, mission: attitude change must begin.  A colleague told me that someone once told him that this pastor tells himself, “I am okay.”  Perhaps I need a personal mantra.  Something I can tell myself and believe.  Something maybe like:
I am a child of God.
I am gifted.
I am loved.
I don’t have to do everything.
I must take care of myself.
I carried a watermelon.
[strike the last one from the record.  but name that movie and I’ll give you an air high-five.]
You should repeat every one of those statements and know it to be your truth.  
Say it.  Believe it.  And I’ll try and take that advice for myself too.
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