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my next screen play.

31 Aug
[and by next I mean first.]
I just spent an hour dropping off bulk mail at the Austin Post Office.  The LOG [our monthly newsletter at ROG – get it?] is en route to members thirsty for the latest word from this church.  [or maybe it’s their recycling bin that is hungry for it.  whichever.]  Anyways, Marilyn usually drops this off.  She’s the one who weighs it, fills out the appropriate paperwork, and makes sure when it is dropped off that it keeps the lovely USPS clerks happy.  This time the cookie crumbled and it was my job to deliver.  I got a sneak peak at the world that is church administrative assistants.
Behind me in line was another church dropping off their monthly newsletter.  I spent a fair bit of time at the counter this time around because the weight on the group of 10 newsletters was off by .009.  Off by too much apparently.  The clerk who was helping me had to go ask someone else a question, and then she had to reweigh, and then she had to explain to me how to fill out new paperwork with the appropriate weight, all the while this administrative assistant behind me waited for another clerk.
Another clerk appeared and the admin assistant behind me went to her with the boxes of newsletters in her hands.  She kinda giggled, looked at me, and said, More of the same thing, in a sing-songy voice.  But her weight on the group of 10 was correct.  No further questions, no reweighing.  She was in.  And then she sneered at me with a mix of pity and a mix of superiority as she left the counter, arriving after me and leaving before me.  What a smug church basement lady.
Okay.  No, she didn’t really sneer but what a movie screen play it could be if she did!  The entire drive home I wondered what the secret lives of church administrative assistants is like.  Competitiveness at the post office counter over bulk mail, bragging rights over who could fold bulletins the fastest, and who also played the organ.  I imagine the movie would be a lot like Drop, Dead Gorgeous but with less murder and more lipstick stains on coffee cups.  

let’s not jinx it –

20 Aug
– but life in ministry is pretty good right now and I owe it to day camp [among other things].  
First of all, day camp gave me a chance to do what I really love.  Plan a whole bunch of crazy things for kids to do.  And then do those crazy things with them.  It gave me the opportunity to get to know some of the youth at ROG a bit better.  Day camp made me happy.  [I had lunch with my synod friend, Karen, today.  She told me, It was great to hear you so excited about day camp.  And she’s right.  I was excited.  And that is great.]
Second, day camp got me mucho brownie points with the congregation.  The older members LOVE seeing kids at church.  They are, after all, the future of the church.  Older members were astonished at how many kids came and they ate it up.  Yesterday was a wonderfully affirmative Sunday at church and while not all of it was related to day camp, a lot of it was.  The people are excited that the kids are excited.  And that makes me excited.
Third, day camp has given energy and excitement around children and youth ministry at Red Oak Grove.  [I should add day camp AND the national youth gathering of last month.]  I met with a few parents and interested people in working with kids and they are on board with what I have to say.  I think they are learning to trust me.  Not to say that all of my ideas are the right ones or that I always know what I’m doing, but seeing the success of a few things in the past has given me a bit of clout, I daresay.  [We talked about my want of a youth space.  A youth room.  They’re totally on board.  I could carpet that room for you, said one member.  Make it more cozy and a more welcoming place.  Yes!  Deal!]
Ministry is good and it only took me a year of being here and a day of day camp to say that.  
Here’s hoping it continues.

day camping.

17 Aug
Day camp.  R-to-the-O-to-the-G-style.  [which, for those of you who don’t know, is awesome.]
I may have panicked the day before, needing to schedule the day, buy supplies, and find some adult helpers, but it came together [as it always does].  I managed to pull nearly everything together in time which was good because on Wednesday morning, seventeen kids showed up.  Ranging in age from 4 to 8th grade, we were [mostly] ready for a day of fun.
Our theme was feet, taking a nod from Joshua 1:9.  [a la ‘be strong and courageous, not frightened or dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you every step of the way’]  We tie-dyed socks and painted our feet to create a new banner for our worship space.  Relay games, fun snacks, and crazy camp games filled more of the day.
My favorite part of the day?  The seventh and eighth graders who signed up – there were three – signed up under the title of “counselor.”  Being so last minute, there was no training involved for their role.  I told them that they would participate along with everyone else but I might call on them to do a few errands or help with activities throughout the day.   Emma, Alec, and Elly were awesome counselors beyond my expectations.  These three had all spent a week at Good Earth Village as campers this summer and they had an idea what counselors do at camp.  They led younger campers around by hand.  They taught their favorite games from camp.  They led small group time with great leadership.  High fives and $5 gift cards to DQ for these awesome kids!
A couple kids told me, “We should do this like five times a year!” I don’t know about that, kids, but we’ll try it again next summer for sure, and maybe for longer than just a day.  The kids loved it, and I did too.  It fed my soul to plan and be a part of this.  Good day.  Good day.
prepping socks for tie-dye.

teamwork to pull apart a frozen tshirt.

On a day like this – part two.

2 Aug
Today was a pretty awesome day.
Honestly, likely the best work day I’ve had in weeks.  Maybe months.
I feel a little guilty that this best-day-ever wasn’t spent visiting the elders of the congregations.  It wasn’t spent in worship with the members of Red Oak Grove.  It wasn’t even spent in conversation with anyone in the congregation.  But it was a necessary ministry day of big picture thinking.
It was a confirmation planning day with my imaginary coworkers, jD and Laura.  [Imaginary in that they are not technically my coworkers, wish as I may.  Not imaginary as in I made them up and talked to the wall all day.]  jD and I met at Red Oak Grove and skyped with Laura, a pastor in Hutchinson.  In a morning, we planned confirmation for the 2012 – 2013 school year and it will be super great.  I even ordered the curriculum today.  [A season of Freaks and Geeks.  That’s right –  you’re curious.  Too bad I can take absolutely no credit for the idea.]
Laura had to depart after the noon hour [I hear she was off to a meeting with you, Pastor Lori!] but jD and I continued our staff meeting over lunch at Applebee’s.  Another goal of ours is a joint confirmation retreat to kick off the year.  Schedule planned.  Details on paper.  Calendars filled out.  Super productive.
This isn’t the first time a day of planning has been a highlight.  Check out this post, a blast from the past of over two years ago.  I just get giddy with excitement about long-term planning with other people who are also excited about ministry possibilities. 
Right.  So let’s think about why this call might not be a great fit in the long run for Pastor Lindsay … but for now, here’s to continuing big picture thinking and making time for visioning with adjunct staff.  PL needs that.

I goofed.

26 Jun
I’m still kinda crabby but it’s my fault.
I’m crabby because I messed up.  I messed up and I shouldn’t have.
You see, Red Oak Grove leadership was invited to a stewardship meeting with the synod staff.  They were going to be at three different locations on three different days; we could call and sign up for a time slot.  Great.  I did this.
And then I went on vacation without ever writing the date and time on my calendar. 
Last Wednesday, when I was at The Sound of Music, I should have been talking about mission and stewardship with the Bishop in Albert Lea.  Shit.  I’m learning that my calendar is my life; if it’s not written down, it doesn’t get done.
I only remembered yesterday when my memory was jogged by reading a certain Scripture text.  
I emailed the synod staff and apologized.  
I felt like an idiot.
What a healthy reminder that I’m not perfect.  I goof up and I forget things.  Perhaps also a needed reminder that I can’t do it all.  My council president was also invited to go; in fact, she received the letter in the mail about it, not me.  I could have said, here, Karen, if you could set it up and invite people to go, that would be great.  But I, instead, and like I always do, said that I would take care of it.  I want to help everyone else out.  I don’t want to put anyone out.  But the thing is I say I’ll do things and then things get overwhelming and then I forget things.
Through my own disappointment in standing the bishop up, I told a few people and all I really wanted to hear in response was, it’s okay.  We all goof up.  But it seemed nearly every reaction I got made me feel even worse for f’ing up.  Oh, well.  Me, writing this, is admitting it and moving on.  Sinking feeling in stomach, you may leave now.  [please?]
It wasn’t the first time and it won’t be the last time that I forget a meeting or overlook a commitment.  This pastor isn’t perfect.  Thank goodness I’m in the right business for some forgiveness.  

reassurance.

21 Jun
First, a little background info.  Pastors often attend weekly text study, a time when a group of pastors gather to discuss the texts for the upcoming Sunday and talk about preaching topics.  I used to go to text study in Austin but I didn’t feel entirely comfortable in the group.  [They would often call me out.  Lindsay, what do you think?  If you know me, you know the anxiety being put on the spot causes me.]  The conversation came up at our Blooming Prairie ministerium meeting and the two pastors at the Lutheran church in Blooming, jD, and I decided to try our own text study.  We met for the first time this past Tuesday.
Today, I was at a meeting in Waseca about the monkey business that is confirmation.  At my table was Pastor Charlie, one of the pastors in Blooming.  Our conversation went something like this over lunch:
Charlie: What did you think about our first text study?
Lindsay:  I enjoyed it.  I think we have a good rhythm to our group.
Charlie: I agree.  I think it will be good.  I have a feeling Heidi and jD will be the more talkative ones of the group.  I usually stay pretty quiet, much like yourself.
Lindsay: Yeah, you won’t hear me speak up too much.  But I feel more comfortable to contribute in this group than I did in my former text study.
Charlie: Speaking in a group has always been hard for me.  I’m always worried I’ll say the wrong thing or say something that doesn’t need to be said.
Lindsay:  Me too!  I’m always afraid I’ll sound dumb.
Charlie: Lindsay, we have more in common than we know.
It was reassuring to me that this gentleman, who I see as a wonderful pastor and I never would have once guessed considered himself quiet, had similar public speaking fears as I.  We totally had this moment [at least on my end] where we completely understood the other.  Charlie’s also fun.  jD had to leave early so at the end of the meeting – when we each had to sign in/decide what further discussion formats we wanted to be a part of – Charlie signed jD up for every single thing possible.  [You’re welcome, jD.] 

dolls.

19 Jun
Today, I learned about dolls.
China dolls.  German and French-made dolls.
I sat at a care center and thumbed through a quarterly publication for doll collectors.  Pat, the member I was visiting, has photos of her dolls interspersed with photos of her family members tacked on the bulletin board in her room.  She has hundreds of dolls.  She used to go to doll conventions.  She’s moving out of the care center at the end of this week, and moving in with her daughter and son-in-law.
Are you ready to move?, I asked.
I’m excited to see my dolls, she replied.  You’ll have to come visit and see them.  If only you could shrink to doll size then you could stay even longer and play.
We learned about the bleuette doll specifically.  I read captions to photos of the doll from the collector’s magazine but lots of the words were in French, as bleuette dolls were made in France for French girls.
Oh, Pat, I don’t speak French, I said as I found French words in front of me.
Congratulations, you’ve just started to learn, was her reply.
She’s funny.  And as I left I told her she was a blessing and a joy.  She made my [long] day.

gospel messages.

4 Jun
I felt preached and ministered to twice on Sunday and neither was the sermon in worship.  [gasp.  yeah.  a pastor just said that.]  These were both gospel messages I needed to hear.  
The first was during worship.  If you are in the Dawson community, you know but if you’re not, you likely don’t know the talent and awesomeness of musicians at Grace.  Two of them together sang a song during the offering.  And not just any song – a song they wrote.  Deep gratitude to Jacob and Kelsey [who also happen to both be children of internship coworkers] for sharing this message and sharing their gift of words and music.  I needed to hear it.  I think my purpose needs a little realigning … but not necessarily by me.
The second time was just as I was leaving gnometown and saying my final goodbyes.  [It sounds like the bachelorette.  You did not get a rose.  Say your final goodbyes, says Chris Harrison every week.]  Sharon – who was the chair of my internship committee while I was at Grace – reads my blog and knows that it goes on spurts between depressing and super depressing.  She gave me a hug and then she said something to the tune of you are wonderful.  remember that.
I’m so keen on showing and telling everyone else that they are enough just as they are and created by God … but I often forget that applies to me too.  Sharon, in that graceful way, reminded me.  Another gospel messenger at just the right time.  Thank you, Sharon.  

bacca-what?

31 May
Wednesday was baccalaureate for the seniors of the Blooming Prairie Awesome Blossoms.  [I still can’t get over that their mascot is a flower.  I no longer have the privilege of complaining about my high school – the Crimson Tiders.]  This service was held at the Catholic church in Blooming in the evening and all six pastors from the town participated in the service.  
What do you get when four Lutheran pastors, a Baptist minister, and a Catholic priest lead a service together?
First, Lindsay gets ulcers and then we get ice cream at Dairy Queen.
I remember telling Kendall on internship that I don’t do surprises in worship.  I like a clear plan with nearly every word I say scripted.  I like to know where I need to be when and how I will get there.  If these pieces don’t exist, I get anxious.  I need to know what’s going on and my role in it all or palms are sweaty, the voice chokes, and nothing can be in any sort of focus but a nervous one.
The six pastors met beforehand but no one said, “Hey.  Let’s walk through the service together.”  [I suppose I could have been that person.]  No one, as we walked to the back of the sanctuary to lead the graduates in procession, said, “Dudes.  Let’s be strategic about who sits where in the aisle based on role and timing.”  [Okay.  I said it quietly and without the initial dudes.  I could have spoken up.]  [And that’s when Stephanie, aka Heidi, aka a pastor at the big Lutheran church in town, said, “You should blog about this.”  It was all sorts of circus.  Check.]
The service happened.  We processed, prayed and preached.  Songs were sang and Scriptures read.  We high-fived the graduates as they left the church in lines – a high-give gauntlet, if you will.  Survival was the result.  Thanks be to God.
Thanks be to God because the pastor tradition is to get ice cream afterwards.  A fun tradition, say I.  A late night treat that reminded me how thankful I am for companions in ministry.  How awesome is it that I get to be a part of services like this next to a seminary friend with whom I can fist bump before leading the benediction?  [And who begins to eat my ice cream by mistake but I feel comfortable enough sharing germs and saying, “That’s okay.  But keep your own spoon.”] I’d say it’s pretty rare that two seminary classmates – let alone pretty wonderful friends – end up sharing in such ministry right out of school.  And how awesome is it that the two Lutheran pastors at the big church in town are so great?  One – Stephanie/Heidi – is my mentor which basically means we go out for ethnic food or coffee once a month.  [Not a bad deal.]  The other is simply pastorally wonderful.  Neither is crazy or off their rocker.  They can be trusted and approached. Thanks be to God.
So bacca-what?  Bacca-circus.  Bacca-ice cream.  Bacca-awesome.

dying well.

3 May
I don’t know entirely what that phrase even means.  The words get tossed around in seminary.  There are probably books on the subject.  Chaplains in care centers and with hospice probably would know best.
I think I caught a glimpse of it today when I visited a man who is dying this afternoon.  I’ve known his mom since I came to Red Oak Grove but this particular man, who lived with his mother until she went to the care center many months ago, never came to worship with her.  I got the impression he wasn’t much for church at his age in his early 60s.
He joined the congregation of Red Oak Grove this past February.  I was visiting his mom in the care center and he approached me.  “I would like to join the church.  I’m dying.”  This man was diagnosed with cancer six months ago and given three months to live.  
We’ve connected time and again at the care center over coffee with his mom.  I’ve made plans to visit but it seems those are always the days he is the weakest and not up for visitors.  Today, I finally made it to his brother’s house, in whose basement he will live until he dies.  This is a recent move when hospice joined the picture.  
If there is a way to die well, this man is doing it.  Without any prompting or leading questions on my part, he led me in this wonderful conversation.  Discussion of his wishes in regards to funeral and burial and his complete peace in this end of life.  We talked about faith and how church isn’t a building.  It’s not a front – he is truly seriously at peace with this all.  “I’m not scared,” he told me.
His three children – who he has not seen for many many years – just visited from England and Washington DC.  He discussed his plans with them and, as hard as it sounds, said goodbye.  The next time they come will be for his funeral [which he requests be at 1pm on a Saturday.  I’ll see what we can do, I said].
I’ll be honest – I dreaded the conversation going into it.  I really wasn’t sure how to talk this man I barely knew and who was dying.  It turns out I was nervous for no reason; he guided me through the conversation with the honesty and pacing of a man who is at peace with this fate of death.  A dreaded conversation turned into this holy, blessed conversation.  A gift, if you will.  A gift for tough, faithful discussion that didn’t feel pulled or prodded from a person who wasn’t interested in sharing.  It is likely one of the most honest conversations I’ve had as a pastor.  A gift for me and I hope a gift for him as well.
[We also talked about the perks of socialism, the perks of gatorade, and how none of his children are married because of their dedication and focus on their respective careers.  “It’s like you.  You’re focused on your career.”  Inside my head, I laughed.  If only my perpetual singleness was the result of my career focus.]
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