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ordinational emotions.

12 Jul
[ordinational?  a word?  likely not until now.]
In attending ordinations of friends and beginning to plan my own, I often find myself emotional.  Two Sundays ago, the gospel text was from Matthew 11, the text that is read as a red stole is placed on the ordinand’s shoulders.  [“Come to me, all who you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” Matthew 11:28-30]  I found myself getting excited, anxious, and ready for this next step and this milestone in my journey into ministry.  
Since then, I can only guess that my actual ordination will be one of teary eyes.  I can’t quite pinpoint exactly what makes me so emotional about the planning of/the day but I can gather a few things.  They say that at one’s wedding, it is such a happy day because it’s the gathering of all the loved people in your life.  I’ve had no such wedding, but I only anticipate an ordination to be similar in that when I look at the congregation, my gaze will be met by so many important and loved people in my life who have supported me.  I look forward to and begin to get sentimental at the thought of family, friends, and congregation members gathering to celebrate God’s call in me to ministry.  The thought of it makes me grow emotional, and so incredibly blessed and thankful.
Forgive my constant admiration and idolization of internship, but I grow so excited to think of their celebration with me.  A year ago when I left, they [my coworkers] had said that they would want to come and be a part of my ordination but I understood that it was eight hours between us.  As I make plans and hear from others, it seems that many of my Dawson coworkers intend on making the drive.  They – and the congregation as a whole – have been such a formational part of my call to and competency in ministry that to even think that they will travel here makes me cry.  So excited.  [Sidenote: I wrote an email to Karen at Grace about ordination details to share with the congregation.  I mentioned the bus sighting of the Dawson mission trip folks I had on my way drive on Sunday and her response?  “I don’t think it was any accident that you saw the bus – you will always have a connection to Grace.”  Tears.  Tears because I want that to always be the truth.  I miss Grace.  I love Grace.]
In the planning of this ordination service, I also see congregation members of my home congregation so incredibly supportive and congratulatory.  I could not tell you the last time that East Koshkonong was host to an ordination; this is new territory.  They have gathered behind me in so many ways as I grew up in those pews – as a high school flute player with the senior choir, as a student in college, as a girl who lost her father, and as a pastoral candidate in seminary.  I grow so excited to share my ordination with them.  [Though I will say that this also comes with embarrassment – I have been absent it seems for so long that my name-to-face recognition is low.  Very low.  Must study the church directory.]
Cassie, who has been ordained for over a month, says that she got out all the tears and emotional breakdowns in the week prior to the service so she remained dry-eyed for the actual day.  [I just outed you, Cassie.  Hope that’s okay.]  I might make this my proposed approach so that when when friends and family read charges, when Cassie leads the prayers, and when Kendall preaches I don’t fall apart at that moment.  It will be an emotional day and an exciting day of praising God and celebrating the work Christ does in the world, in and through each person.
Can’t wait.

a church day.

11 Jul
I’m highly caffeinated.  
It’s nearly 1am.  I spent right around nine hours in a car today.  And I’m wired.
Two iced coffees, two sodas, and a cup of warm coffee in a church fellowship hall.  
The day began with worship at my home congregation.  Talk of upcoming ordination and congratulations were many from dear congregation members.  There was a bit of distraction and also a bit of focus on the congregational vote that was happening in Austin.  THE vote to call me as pastor.
I arrived home and found my phone ringing.  A 507 number.  This was it.  I answered and heard this on the other end –
“Congratulations!”
[pause]
“Thank you?”  [I wasn’t entirely sure who was on the other end …]
The conversation continued and it was, indeed, the chair of the call committee of Red Oak Grove Lutheran Church in rural Austin.  They voted to call me as their pastor.  [yay!]
phew.  I had known in hypotheticals that this would eventually be the case.  I’ve never heard of a vote not passing but it was still reassuring to know that it’s the real deal, that I could make it facebook official, and that I can now mail out my ordination announcements.
After the phone call, I jumped in the car and headed north on Interstate 90 towards LaCrosse, passing a bus of Dawson friends traveling south at one point just north of Madison.  I knew that Dawson youth were on their way to Chicago for a mission trip and I knew that they had stayed the night in the Dells the night prior.  I kept my eyes peeled, wondering if our paths would cross.  And they did!  I called Emily to say hi and to tell her I saw her bus with organist Chris driving in his bus-driver-man clothes.  It was a fun coincidence.
I drove to Sparta, jumped in the car with friend, Cassie, and we headed west to Albert Lea to our pal, Josh’s, ordination.  I was able to catch up with my roommate, who also attended, and congratulate Josh.  Josh is called to a church in southwestern Minnesota – the synod I was in last year while intern in Dawson.  I caught up with the bishop from that synod, who was interested to know if I had a call yet.  If not, he said he was ready to snatch me up.  [Apparently both southern Minnesotan bishops fought for me in the draft.  ego boost]  Cassie and I returned to Sparta, and then I jumped back into my car and drove home, arriving on Aarback just after midnight.
It was a good church day.  I have an official job.  Josh was ordained.  Car time road trip with a seminary friend.  Waving distantly to old friends.  Tomorrow [technically today] will be a good day too.  Ordination announcements can officially go out and plans can begin to be made officially.  And then I’ll start crying because, for some reason, my ordination makes me super emotional.  More about that to come.

Today –

9 Jul

– and everyday –

forward movement.

16 Jun
I haven’t been completely honest nor completely secretive about how this whole first call process has been going for me.  It’s been frustrating and confusing.  Waiting and more waiting.  Feeling both helpless and hopeful.  I spoke to the bishop of south eastern MN on Sunday night at my friend’s ordination.  He restored me to hope as I had scarcely allowed myself to hope before.  [Ten points for that movie reference.]  I became more hopeful in my waiting.
Though there have been minor break-downs and a few pouty lips, overall I have “trusted the process.”  [That’s what they encourage us to do.]  I think I have trusted the process and been patient in waiting because of what Dawson taught me.  I remember how it came out kind of wrong when I told my coworkers in Dawson that to be there was not my first choice.  It’s true; it wasn’t.  This girl was assigned to go to Brookings [also not a first choice], only to have that site fall through and then be given no choice but to go to Dawson.  I cried a bit, and thought a place with a gnome park was a little suspicious.  Please take no offense, Dawson-ites, because then I went and fell in love.  The process was good to me.  Learn to trust it I did.
Between us girls [as my pal, jD, likes to say] and blog readers, tonight I received a phone call.  From the church in Austin at which I’ve had two interviews.  I stood in the laundry room at my friend, Kim’s, house while her puppy sat at my feet, stared at me, and farted, and they offered me a call as their pastor.  It remains not official-official; a congregational vote – with two Sundays notice – will take place on July 10th.  So, please, calm down just a little bit – not that much – but I was too excited to not share.  I’ll keep you posted as the vote approaches, and let you in on the insider details [or at least some of them], as long as you [please] keep me in your thoughts and prayers as this process continues!

comparisons.

14 May
I constantly compare myself to others.  I know I shouldn’t.  I know that I am me and you are you and our paths through life are different and that’s how it is meant to be.  But I still make the side-by-side lists in my head, comparing pros and cons, good and bad.
Right now my lists consist of comparing myself to classmates regarding calls.  Many of my friends have calls to churches post-graduation.  Many are planning ordinations.  Many know what their summer will look like.  I am incredibly happy for these friends – really, I am! – but I don’t have a call, I’m not planning an ordination, and I know only what my June will look like.  My comparisons have me feeling pretty low.
I had an impending sense of doom throughout all of Thursday.  You know those days when you feel like something is just going to go wrong?  The pit in my stomach warned me that something wasn’t quite right.  I called the synod of my assignment to see what they knew about the church where I had interviewed, since it had been nearly two weeks and I’d heard nothing.  The synod knew that the church liked me – they are not releasing me as a candidate – but they also want to interview more people.  I still feel pretty emotional about the news; in summary, the news kinda sucked.
I know that I am called to be a pastor and that I do well in this vocation.  I know that there will be a church that wants me and that calls me but for now, I feel a bit like a failure.  Again, in comparing myself with others who are called and have dates on the calendar to be ordained and to move and to begin working, I’m behind.  If we continue to compare this process to dating, I feel rejected.  [Ah, yes.  Know that feeling well.]
I’ve been in this place before, with my negative thoughts and illicit comparisons, but I refuse to let them infiltrate all facets of my life.  Yeah, Thursday was a pretty down day [blogger being down helped none.] but things have looked up since then.  I have two finals left to complete by Monday and many opportunities to be social beside.  After that, time will be filled with craftiness, packing, and general playing and merriment.  I know I move home for June and if June turns into June and July, maybe that will give me the chance to start my Etsy store or explore reading, running, and crafting at length.  Maybe I could look for a fun-to-me part-time job or consider visiting long-lost friends in WA and IN and MI.  Maybe I’ll stop comparing myself to others too, and enjoy this unique journey as my own and one that needs to be no one else’s.  

money is dumb.

2 May
I wish it didn’t matter.  I’d like to believe that it doesn’t.  Money is a necessary evil, one required in our society to survive.  Money is what buys the things we need to live.  Those basic needs we learn in elementary school social studies – clothing, shelter, food.  We need money for those things.  gross.
But beyond that, what really do we need?  I know, I know.  I sit here, typing on my MacBook that’s charging my iPhone, surrounded by a closet of way too many clothes, next to a bathroom easily containing at least $100 in product/makeup, and lots of stuff.  [The gnomes on the shelf are excluded.  They are not stuff; they are gnomes.]   If this weren’t a public blog, I would call it shit.  [Whelp, just did.] Who am I to talk?  I can’t. 
As my classmates and I move farther and farther into the interviewing/call process, salary negotiations happen.  I’ve shared with a very few of you that I had a second interview yesterday.  If they decide to extend a call, the next step would be going over the salary packages and I feel completely ill-equipped to be on one side of that table.
Ill-equipped and very uncomfortable.  I find myself wondering what I need, and I think I’m easily going to be the push-over because, in all honesty, I don’t need a lot.  There is such a fine line, simply not wanting to be taken advantage of and honestly evaluating my needs.  The synod guidelines for pastor salary include a designated amount for books, periodicals, etc.  Do I need that?  I’m quick to say no; I can easily pay for that out of my general salary.  Do I fight for my cell phone bill to be included in my salary package?  I’m quick to say no; I’ll make it work.  I go back to my childhood-taught line, “Don’t ask for money,” but then contrast it with being a professional with a master’s degree who deserves such-and-such a salary.  I can’t find the balance in my head.  Will this lead towards poor thinking, financial management, and planning on my part?  Some pastors would say yes; some would say no.  
I’m leaning towards not, probably lots due to my dad.  Today would be a celebration of his 52nd birthday and there is no doubt that were he still here, my mom [in collaboration with us kids] would hand over standard packages of white tshirts, socks, and underwear as his gift.  And he would be happy as a clam.  It’s all he needed.  He had a house, food on the table [and chickens in the yard], a job, a shirt on his back, and a family.  What more is there?  He taught me what’s needed in life, though most of the times I forget.
What’s needed right now?  A little Marty McFly and a DeLorean.

passion.

29 Mar
I’m a wordy person.  I associate a lot of meaning with words and am cautious that I use the right word in conversation and writing.  I love etymology and a good thesaurus.  If we’re talking about the written word, I love a good type too.  Fonts and typography get me excited.
The newest word I’m in love with?

passion |ˈpa sh ən|noun1 strong and barely controllable emotion : a man of impetuous passion. See note at emotion .• a state or outburst of such emotion : oratory in which he gradually works himself up into a passion.• an intense desire or enthusiasm for something : the Englishhave a passion for gardens.• a thing arousing enthusiasm : modern furniture is a particularpassion of Bill’s.

There is something about a strong and barely controllable emotion.  Something that makes me so excited I’ll risk lack of sleep to do it.  That thing that unleashes a vigor, a fervor, a mania.  (Thank you, thesaurus.)  Something that leads to eagerness and intense energy.
Passion is crucial.  
So important that a lack of it could kill you.  
Not in the literal sense but in real seriousness – what is life without passion?  
[You could probably say that Pinterest feeds many of my passions, and fed the formative push for this blog post by unveiling the following to me on a board I follow – ]
What about life makes you barely able control your excitement and enthusiasm?  
If you can’t even contain it [Please!  Tell me you can’t!], what do you do with it?  
How do you share it?  
What happens?  
Tell me!
If you’ll allow me to consider this a passion, here’s my example: Vacation Bible School.  VBS is like the perfect combination of all things I love and a week in the summer where my energy is high despite incredible lack of sleep and long hours of work.  Love it.  L-O-V-E love it.  
Crafts?  Check.  
Crazy games?  Check.  
Loving on kids?  Check.  
Teaching?  Check.  
Community?  Check.  
Watching kids discover the love of Jesus?  Check.
[I’m getting super giddy just thinking about it!]
Passion is on the brain for Pinterest reasons and for ministry reasons.  Many know my secret but if you don’t, here you go [even after I swore off revealing secrets on this blog as of, oh, yesterday] – I interview with a potential church this weekend.  Stress levels are high as I anticipate the questions and the nerves that I hope won’t show.  If it’s a good fit, it’s a good fit.  If not, other options will come.  But I wonder how I wear my passion; how will they see my passion for ministry?  I hope I can share who I am – who I’m created to be – and wear the enthusiasm I have for ministry in the church.  I’ll most certainly keep you posted.
[It’s still March and this is my 33rd blog post of the month.  Safe to say that writing/sharing/being in this media relationship with you via blog land is a passion of mine?  Perhaps.]

eHoly Harmony

24 Mar
If you’ve followed me along this far, you know that I graduate from seminary in May and have been assigned to serve my first call in the Southeastern Minnesota synod of Region 3.  As Margie, a resident at the care center where I completed Clinical Pastoral Education, always said in her rough, gravel tone, “Now what?”
Navigating the church and call world can be foreign to many people.  I’ll be the first to admit that it was extremely new and unclear to me until I was in seminary.  [Even now, I don’t know all the inner and outer workings of the process.]  I’m assigned.  [Like homework?]  I have a call.  [Call?  Like the person who holds up their ringing cell and say, “I’m going to take this call”?  Nope.  Not really.]  I serve and am strongly advised – barring any unforeseen tragedy – that I stay for at least three years.  The process is unlike most professions.  
I’ll translate.
I filled out my [dating] profile in early December.  This paperwork contained my likes and dislikes, and what I’m looking for in a church [partner].  I submitted this information to the greater church, ie the matchmakers.  [I wish I could add sound effects here.  Create your own; along the lines of foreboding or magical is your choice.  I suppose that depends if you trust the process or not.]
Likewise, churches – when they are [hopefully] emotionally stable and ready to move on from their last relationship [their last pastor and typically after a period of interim] – create their own [dating] profile.  In this paperwork, they provide their hopes and dreams for the future, and whether or not children are in the plans.  [Aging congregation or vital new families?  More baptisms or funerals?]
The matchmakers at the synod office see who is available and play around with the couples that they think will work together well.  They take into account age, gender, and whether or not one half of the couple is willing to relocate [typically the pastor].  Does the potential couple complement each other?  If the church cooks, will the pastor do the dishes?  Who is expected to be responsible for taking the garbage out?  How will the children be bathed – by water and the spirit?
Using their special formula and taking into account the 7×7 degrees of holy compatibility, the synod [matchmakers] couple pastors and churches together.  The courting begins.
In our day and age, the church makes the first move.  Usually by phone call, they ask the potential pastor for an interview [a date].  From here, the lines blur.  Both parties are extremely nervous about the first meeting and sweaty palms are shook.  Each learns more about the other, asking questions and using their gut to decide if this pastor/church “is the one.”  The Holy Spirit plays his role, as always, like the cupid always around the corner; leading, guiding, and shooting arrows working God’s will in the world.

Both parties must agree that a relationship is possible and dream that – dare I say? – there could be love in the future.  [Or, if not love, a promise to work with and for the best of the other.]  A second date may be requested before any decision can be made.  Meanwhile, each party does their best to show their prime side and foremost qualities to the other.  To seal the deal – if the courting has gone well thus far – a kiss contract is signed, vows given and rings exchanged.  
Just because the matchmakers have put this pair together doesn’t mean it always works out.  It’s important that honesty and faith are shared and shown, but if these don’t match up, one side or the other may offer a rejection.  [I’m uncertain if this hurts more or less than other guy rejection; here’s hoping it may not reach a case study comparison.]  But, all in all, the matchmakers typically do a pretty great job matching the couple.  Let the courting begin.  I’m ready for a relationship of commitment with a congregation of three hundred people and a large building.  Here we go.
[Here’s hoping I’m actually better at this kind of dating than the kind with boyfriends.  I’m terribly awkward on first dates and to move past that point is strange and unusual. I pray that’s not my fate in courting a congregation. I look forward to finding one to dream with and to accompany each other in knowing and sharing God’s love and grace. I know they’re out there, somewhere in southeastern Minnesota. Somewhere.] *cue cheesy music*

Caution: God at work.

23 Mar

He probably wasn’t wearing a bright orange construction vest,
 but where did you see God today?

The human missionary task is to give visibility to the Divine work in the midst of our daily existence.

[Henri Nouwen]
…

Midterms.  Five to seven pages on my missional theology of faith formation.

Did mission trips and service projects shape your faith?
[If you comment and let me know, that would be fun.
Fun for the sake of fun and not to be used in my paper.  I promise.]

Buckets of concrete to roof houses; Jackson is hard at work. [Mexico Mission ’08]

self-care.

14 Mar
Tonight, in my Women in Ministry class, we had a guest panel of five female pastors, poised and ready to take our questions.  Conversation ranged from fashion to humorous stories to boundaries in relationships.  Much of the conversation was helpful; some was not.  [If not here, then certainly on Steeples and Stilettos, further address of their take on fashion in ministry will be had.  I don’t consider myself much of a fashionista by any means, but I disagreed.)
One topic that was helpful was that of self-care.  I’ve heard about it, talked about it, and practiced it in many different ways in the past, but a firm refresher was … refreshing.  Namely, self-care is not selfish.  [Say that aloud.  Do you believe yourself?  You should!]  Allowing myself Lindsay time, finding the people I need to remain sane, and saying no are not bad practices.  In ministry, there is always more to be done.  If one really wanted to, a work week could easily consist of sixty hours.  (I’m pretty sure some of mine on internship did …)  That’s unhealthy and completely not cool.  [Not cool … one would think I would have a better way to describe it.  You don’t want to be uncool, do you?  That’s what I thought.]
Reflecting on last year, I think quilting was my self-care, or at least a large part of it.  I need to be busy; I hate being bored.  To break away from work, to focus on a project I enjoyed was what quilting helped me to do.  In honor of that hobby and the reminder I was given tonight, I came home from class (which ends at 9pm), said no to further homework, and am taking care of myself.  I fully intend on putting in a disc of Gilmore Girls and working on the binding of this flannel blankie with my glorious Fossil sewing kit.  Amen and goodnight.  
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