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Plunge.

26 Jan
I made the jump to commit myself to a plunge.  
[What?]
Today I registered for the Polar Bear Plunge.
I am volunteering to jump into a frigid Lake Calhoun in Minneapolis on March 5 while wearing some absurd outfit (which is tbd).  I’m joining my friend, Sara’s, team and I think it’s going to be fun.  She’s the seasoned expert, taking the plunge last year too.  Sara and I do a lot of crazy stuff together, so really, this is just par for the course.

Crazy stuff.  Exhibit A.

The plunge is a fundraiser for the Special Olympics in Minnesota so it’s all for a good cause.  Feeling moved to support me with my jump into a frozen lake in the middle of winter in Minnesota?  You can click here to find information about donating to the organization!

survived.

9 Jan
I spent my weekend – 48 hours – in charge of a five year old and I live to tell the tale.
To those of you who are mothers, this is no large feat.  But I’m new to this 24/7 care of a child and the child is not mine or a family member’s.  Things are different when it’s someone else’s kid … and you’re not mom or dad.  
M. is by no means a stranger to me nor I to her; I first babysat for her when she was just a few months old.  But this was the first overnight.  And it was TWO nights.  M. never hesitated to tell me that she missed Mom and Dad and she wished they were there.  Me being different threw off her routine, the normalcy, and I’m sure it was tough for her.  (Plus, I’m just different, apparently.  In the mornings, after she would wake me up at 7-0-0, she would tell me, “You don’t look like Lindsay” as my glasses were on and hair in no proper condition.  After I showered/dressed/contacts in, she would say, “Now you look like Lindsay.”)
Once I looked like myself and we had the treat of special cereal for breakfast, we had fun.  I played the part of a sports nanny, toting M. off to both swimming and ice skating lessons.  I was asked if I was her mother a few times.  (I used to be offended or even question how people could even think that!  But then I realize I am 27 years old and it’s completely possible to have a 5 year old without scandal involved …)  We went out for lunch at M.’s favorite Indian buffet, where the waiter knew her by name and gave her a free mango smoothie.  I brought crafting supplies and my Barbies (the ones that have collected dust in the basement of my home of origin for many, many years) along to play so we kept busy when we were at home too.
Today, after skating, we stopped for ice cream.  Her parents were now home and just waiting for us to return from the lesson and our snack.  M. contemplatively ate her swirl cone (which was not as giant as she had requested) and said, “I’m glad Mom and Dad are home but it also makes me sad that you’re leaving.”  
For cute.  We did have a lot of fun.  She’s one polite and hilarious girl.
L: Would you like some water?
M: Yes, please.  That would make me very happy.
L: Happy as a clam?
M: No.  Happy as a bicycle.
I’m sure it won’t be too terribly long until M. and I have another chance to play.  Crafts, paper chains, turkey curry (her favorite), Barbies, and all sorts of fun will come again.

kevin.

7 Jan
I have a friend at school.  (Actually, I have a few.)  We’ll call this one Kevin.  That’s not his actual name, but that’s what I call him.  And he calls me Penelope on occasion (my ‘fake’ name since college).  He’s in my morning January class this year – modern church history.  We give each other air fist bumps.
Kevin is crazy.  In such a wonderful way.  We’ve been friends since our first year when we were in a discipleship group together.  We had to tell our faith story in this group and Kevin – a white man in his early thirties with glasses – rapped his.  From that point on, I was intrigued.
And continue to be.  I can’t figure this guy out.  For example – yesterday –
(My roommate and I made fortune cookies; we brought them to class.)
Penelope: Want a fortune cookie?
Kevin: YES.  (starts to eat) These are good.
Penelope: They have almond extract in them that gives them a lot of flavor.
Kevin: You know, I’m allergic to almonds.  (takes another bite)

Later in the day –

Penelope: Hey Kevin, what are you thinking about?
Kevin:  How to build a climbing wall in Northwestern.
(NW is a building of offices and classrooms on campus.)
Penelope: Do you like to rock climb?
Kevin: No.
Or today.
Our professor mentioned this polar air front that’s supposed coming our way in a couple weeks.  Kevin turns around.  “Where’s Katy Perry when you need her?”  What.  “You know, she’s always singing about California.”
I do wonder what Kevin’s wife thinks.
I can only imagine she laughs a lot.

new blog.

2 Jan

My friend, Cassie, has a blog.

Here’s Cassie.

She’s a senior at seminary.  Like me.  We bonded while on safari and shopping the markets in Tanzania two years ago.  We shared a ‘luxury tent.’ (No joke.  The best accommodations I’ve ever had and they were on the plains of Africa.  In a tent.  With a rather large lizard-thing and scorpion in the shower.  But let’s not talk about that.)

Did I mention she has a blog?  Did I mention that she mentioned me?!

You should visit.

nothing like it.

31 Dec
Sitting around an all-too-familiar table with glasses of wine and old friends.  We did nothing but talk … update … catch each other up on our respective lives.  We all had a chance to share, no one person dominating conversation more than another.  Topics ranged from the serious where listening ears and compassionate responses were given, to the ridiculous. (Lynn feels there is absolutely no logical reason for blimps to be in existance.)  We were two Bananas short of the full bunch, but one H-Banana blessed.  (A shout-out to – I’ve learned – a faithful blog reader – erm, stalker? – and Honorary Banana, Theresa, who was hilarious.  As always.  I’m glad she came over to share in the table talk.) 
It has easily been at least four – probably more – years since I’ve walked in the back door at the Schaaf house but I did it so much during high school that it seemed perfectly normal and right last night.  There certainly have been changes since I’ve last sat around that kitchen table.  Marj has a dog now.  A dog.  Jenni has been swept off her feet to live in Indiana with her flannel-sporting mountain man, Joe.  Each Banana has been on her own journey of job transitions, children, marriages, and figuring out what this life is all about.  But we still gathered around that table, drank wine, and shared stories like we had never left.  Nothing like it.

church families.

16 Dec
That’s the language tossed about within congregations – your church family.  The church to which you belong becomes like a family.  But rather, not just LIKE a family but it is your family.  Your church family.  You’re with each other through tough times and great times, the joys and the sorrows.  (Warning: Cliche approaching.)  I am so blessed.  I have THREE church families.  
East Koshkonong is the church family to which I formally belong, the church family in which I grew up.  It’s the country church where I was baptized and confirmed, the church where I spend every Christmas Eve (with the exception of last year).  When I worship at East, I share the pews with aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents.  One of my favorite memories is as a small girl, crawling over other family members to sit next to my Grandma Vera.  She always had peppermints in her purse.  I remember sitting next to my dad who would always put his arm around me (and sometimes fall asleep during the sermon).  Here I played my flute with the senior choir, I taught Sunday School, and ultimately first felt my call to ministry.  With approval behind me and only one semester ahead of me, I look forward to planning my ordination – a celebration I will have the opportunity to share with this church family, knowing I have their constant prayers and support as I journey in ministry.
Trinity in Stillwater is the second church family of which I ever became a part.  I began working at Trinity in 2007 and worked through the spring of 2009.  I loved the time I spent at Trinity in children’s ministry and working with an innovative staff.  One of the coolest things about this church family is going back to it.  After a year and a half away, I’ve come back to Trinity to worship and to lead a small group of ninth grade confirmation ladies.  It’s crazy to come back and have these children that I worked with for two and half years remember me and still greet me with hugs.  (And many confused looks.  But we’ll focus on the hugs.)  My small group is truly a blessing.  Tonight we wrote on the chalkboard wall in our meeting room for the first time – for fun!  Not only do I get to interact once again with children I’ve known from years past, but I also am blessed to see the staff members. I love hanging out after confirmation is over with Denise, one of my ‘Stillwater Moms’ and my BFF from a Mexico mission trip of the past.  I’ve missed her.
Grace in Dawson is my third church family who I still think of and miss every day.  Lots.  And it is certainly true that people there – members of the congregation and the staff with whom I spent lots of time – became my family when I was away from mine for a year.  I remember tearing up during the candlelight singing of Silent Night on Christmas Eve, missing that moment that I have each year with my family.  But then afterwards, I was invited to dinner, gifts, and games with coworkers and members alike at my supervisor’s home.  Looking back, it was different.  But it was perfect.  They were the ones who supported me in some truly rough times and helped me grow.  A lot.  We drank lots of coffee and had a bit too much fun for our own good.  (I still remember playing baseball in the hallway with Kendall using a rolled up poster and wiffle ball on a random weekday morning.  And don’t get me started on VeeBeeS and sewing purses.  Too much fun.)  I know that I’m in trouble when it comes to my first call; I find it hard to believe that being the pastor of any church can live up to Grace and the year I had there.
I have three church families – even if I’m not actively involved in each at this time.  In any given week, I receive the newsletter from one.  There are facebook friend requests and long facebook messages to keep in touch.  I have a penpal.  Birthday wishes.  Text messages.  Holiday cards. I love my church families and think I’m most certainly blessed to have three of them.  Love it.

a birthday wish.

9 Dec
It was my birthday yesterday and there will be stories of hamballs and volunteering at Feed My Starving Children to come on that topic.  But for now, enjoy yet another video embedded here at the place of the happy gnome – a birthday wish from my penpal, C., and his sister – favorite friends from Dawson who I miss dearly!

three "for" stories.

7 Oct
1. for cute.
I had written a letter to my four year old friend C. from Dawson a couple weeks ago.  Today I received a response letter from him!  Well, technically, it was his mom writing but it was told from his point-of-view and had his printed signature at the bottom.  It talked about how much he loves preschool and how his Sunday School classroom was filled with friends in the last couple weeks.  In the letter, C. wondered if we could be pen pals.  Heck yes!  I love pen pals.  I had a pen pal all through upper elementary and middle school – Leann Hawkins from New Jersey.  Time for a new one!


2. for sweet.
I’m using my Wednesday nights to lead a ninth grade confirmation group in Stillwater at Trinity, the church I worked at prior to internship.  There was a group that needed a leader for only this year and I was looking to get plugged into a church.  It works perfectly.  Even more perfect is the group of girls I was assigned.  I have the sweetest, most-engaged, awesome ninth graders.  Sure, sometimes they get off track, talking about their Bob (the code name for the guys they like), but we’re making plans to hold small group at Caribou and tie pillows to jazz up the institutional-like closet where we meet.  I look forward to my Wednesday nights.


3. for funny.
To think the following story is funny, you have to know a few things.  First, this is a conversation I had with M., the nearly five year old with whom I craft and love tape.  This conversation happened in the midst of her continuing to work, to tear tape, to craft.  Second, she’s a kid.  Third, it was all said in a very matter-of-fact way.  Fourth, I don’t consider myself a cat person.  (So maybe I’m cruel to think this is funny?)  Fifth, I never did have a chance to clarify the story with the parent when he arrived home but I really doubt the last part is true.

Me: Where’s Gilbert? (the second cat)
M: He’s dead.
Me: What?!
M: Yeah. He was throwing up all the time and he’s dead.
Me: Did you take him to the doctor? (I’m trying to figure out if they had him put to sleep or …)
M: No.
Me: Did he die here?
M: He’s in the basement.
Me: But dead?
M: Yeah. He’s in a bag. Do you want to go see him?
Me: No. That’s okay.

Miss M.

28 Sep
M. and I go way back.  I first babysat for her as a baby, when she lived with her parents in a town near Edgerton and when her mom worked with my mom.  M. moved to St.Paul and then, conveniently, so did I!  While on internship in Dawson, I was away for a year and now that I’ve returned, I enjoy M. more than ever.  She’s nearly five and full of songs, smiles, and a great sense of humor.  
My favorite thing about spending time with M. since returning to St.Paul in the last month?  
Crafting.
M. loves to craft things.  Most specifically?  Crafting anything with tape.  I laughed with absolute joy when she proclaimed, kneeling at her craft table, “I love tape.”  *scotch tape in hand, ripping another long piece with which to attach a feather or button*  “I love tape,” she said again.
And that is why M. and I are now best friends.  Because I love tape too!  I told M. of the magical tape I own, the Happy Tape with patterns and colors.  I brought the special tape with me to M.’s the next time I visited and we crafted again.  With tape.  I love tape.  (And I’m not just saying that because I see the tape.  I love lamp.)  M. also knows about Art Scraps; we have a field trip planned to the art thrift store soon!

Last Sunday.

3 Sep
My last Sunday at Grace really was all things wonderful.  I preached my last sermon, was given many kind words, and honored in the best ways possible during coffee hour.  The do-day ladies, with whom I tied quilts every month, made me a quilt.  The congregation as a whole gave me generous gifts, many hugs, and much love as I was sent on my way.
Being honored during the worship service.  Coworkers Keith, Tammy, Emily and Karen in the background.  (Along with the top of Chris’ head.  And Kendall is probably the receiver of my surprised/are-you-kidding-me face.)

Coffee hour was in my honor and included my own gnome story, a song – sung to Home on the Range, and an ode to my time as an intern.  It was a roast in the kindest way possible.  In many ways, it made it even more difficult to leave because it was so wonderful and honoring.  It did however include the revealing of my high school weekend winter occupation … the stripping came up.  (And then I owed the fellowship hall an explanation of what kind of [tobacco] stripping my parents made me do as a child.)
After the congregation members had made their leave, I took the much-talked-about tour of the sanctuary attic.  Keith, the custodian, had been promising me such a field trip for months to visit the bats, but it hadn’t happened.  So, in my pointy Nine West heels, I climbed the ladder to the attic to say that I’d been there, done that, check.  (Pictures still to come.  I know you want to see the sanctuary attic just as much as I did!)  Then the staff and I stood in the main office, none of us quite willing to say the first goodbye.  
Keith was the first to make his leave, giving me a hug, and saying, 
“Goodbye, Sunshine.  
It’s been fun.” 
Slowly but surely, sadly and with tears, the rest of the hugs were given and goodbyes were said.  The staff have become close friends – family in many senses of the word.  
Sad day.

Almost a week later and at home in Edgerton, I still feel displaced (as my wise friend, Justin, calls it).  I’m still sad.  I cried pretty much all of Sunday afternoon, Monday and Tuesday.  I even treated myself to a bit of pity-shopping … which led to the addition of two new cardigans to my wardrobe.  (Opps?)  The added stress of needing to complete and send in my 20 page approval paper helped matters none.  But it will get better.  Time at home is good.  Feelings of displacement will wane.  Back to St.Paul on Monday.  Class on Tuesday.

But for now – I grieve.  I grieve the end of internship and the physical distance friendships and relationships.

Sad day.

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