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steeples & stilettos.

13 Mar
Once upon a time, there was a new blog.
This blog was written by three beautiful ladies.  All in their twenties, these gals were studying to be pastors, a profession most typically associated and dominated by the male sex.  Men.  And – truth be told – old men at that.  Obstacles, questions, and musings resulted as they confronted, negotiated, and played the system, aka ‘the man.’  The system of seminary, the musings on being young leaders, the questions of being fashionable in church leadership.  [Yes.  It is possible.]
Big questions.  What does it mean to be female and a pastor?  What will it mean to be a young female leader when a church – unintentionally out of necessity – requires that you fear not bats and their inevitable reign in the education wing hallway?  How high of heels is too high when leading worship?
The three beautiful ladies sought to answer these questions, to share fashion fascinations, and to talk about life in general.  A new blog was born.  [Plus there was that whole class project assignment that needed to be fulfilled …]
Megan, Cassie, and I are just starting out at Steeples & Stilettos.  The site was launched on Friday with introductions and the beginnings of what will be.  It will be ever-changing and we hope to keep it going with our life thoughts and church experiences long after we graduate.  

dust again.

10 Mar
Ash Wednesday.  The beginning of Lent.  It was on this specific day last year that I think I truly began to live into my vocation, into being a pastor with my whole body and soul.  Something clicked that night last year, something beautiful and yet unable to be completely put into words.  I remember it a year after.

‘There was something cool.  inspiring.  humbling.  to see the congregation worshiping, singing, and remembering that we are dust together.  To see it from a different place – a different physical place in the sanctuary and a different place vocationally – was a gift for me tonight.’ 

I grow excited [can I use the word excited when talking about ashes, dust, and lent?  I’m going to.] to think about next year when I’ll be [hopefully] with a new congregation, new brothers and sisters in Christ, new friends marked with the cross.

no news.

3 Mar
Today is the day that the bishops of region three gather to divide the graduating seminarians between synods.  Rumor has it they meet and then phone calls begin to those they have acquired.  Bishops call at different points throughout the day [if not the next day] so we were told to be patient.  I’m trying …
Morning:  anxious.
1:30pm: class begins.
2pm: first classmates begin receiving phone calls from bishops.
[class continues.  lindsay is not focused.]
4:30pm : walk to the post office.  no news.
5pm: chat with fellow classmates over their region three assignments.  no news.
6pm: quilt a few rows.  Alias.  dinner.  no news.
7pm: stalk classmates on facebook to learn of their synods.  no news.
7:23pm: still waiting.
7:31pm: to be continued.  as I continue waiting.

new towels.

28 Feb
As I mentioned before, I went home this past weekend.  Much of my weekend was spent visiting with relatives, telling them about my assignment to region three and explaining what exactly that means.  I pulled up a map of the regions, the divisions of synods, and hoped to shed some light on what more will happen as I approach first call.  Along with this, I talked about new towels.
I’m excited for first call.  I’m so excited I could – I’m not sure.
(Sidenote: I saw Despicable Me for the first time with my sister and cousin Molly.  I love it when the little girl sees the stuffed unicorn at the theme park and she yells, “It’s so fluffy I could die!”)
I’m excited to be a pastor.
And to buy new towels.  I’m absolutely thrilled to think about having a house or apartment to decorate and, based on my bathroom color scheme, to buy new towels.  Along with that?  A craft room with a large working table, a design board of sorts, and organized storage for my craft collections. I figure I have moved once – if not twice – every year for the last nine years.  It’s time to stop being so nomadic.  Not moving every year will be glorious.
Oh yes.
So excited.

assignment.

24 Feb
It’s a funny process, really.  And unless you’re inside of a seminary or in the church, it’s hard to understand and grasp.  You mean that you don’t get to pick where you get your first job?  It’s hard to think of another chosen occupation where that is the case.  You mean that you can put down preferences for where you want to go but those aren’t necessarily honored?  Pretty much.  
It’s a night the seniors at Luther Seminary had been anticipating for many months or even four years.  It grew closer when we filed our paperwork – the paperwork that the bishops and synod representatives read to best decide placement – at the beginning of December.  I was excited to be a part of a planning committee that put together the festivities last night and thus I’ve had opportunity to think about the night for many weeks, as cakepops were made, scratch off tickets printed, and food ordered.  Finally, the night was here.
The placemats and possibilities.
The senior class shared in a meal together before THE envelopes – in which were letters that held our regional assignment – were handed out to each person awaiting direction.  From my perspective, it was a fun night.  Energy was high, both on the nervous end and the excited end of the spectrum.  After the envelopes were handed out, the atrium erupted into hugs, phone calls, greeting one another and sharing the number that the envelope contained.  From there, we worshipped together – praising, lamenting, being held in our calling and in God’s arms.
My envelope contained this letter and the number three.  Minnesota, South Dakota, and North Dakota.  I feel content knowing that I’ll be staying in the midwest, perhaps the tiniest bit disappointed that it wasn’t a five, but completely hopeful and trusting that somewhere within those three states is a congregation for me to serve.  Throughout this manner of assignment, we’re reminded to “trust the process.”  The saying is often mocked by seniors; it can be super frustrating.  But I do trust the process.  I know from previous experience that what I want is not always where I’m meant to be; I cried, protested my move to first SD and then Dawson, and yet, what came of it was the best internship for me.  A good reminder that I don’t always know best.
And now we wait more.  It was great to be given some guidance for what will happen after graduation at the end of May but really, I know now that I could be placed in Minnesota (fingers crossed), South Dakota, or North Dakota.  That’s one giant piece of land.  At the end of next week, hopefully there will be given more information to help me better plan and prepare for the next step in life.
I’m excited.

I got better.

15 Feb
(on the phone with me mum)
Mom: How are you?
L : Alright.
Mom: That’s not what your blog says.
Oh.  Right.  The blog posting I wrote in crankiness and frustration last night, and then hit “Publish” with some sort of ‘stick-it-to-the-man’ attitude.
Thanks for reading, friends, and thanks to the many of you who commented, sent messages, and asked me how things were going.  You are all so wonderfully supportive and the way in which you support me is proof of the community that is built and grows through such a silly thing as a blog.  Blog.  The word is just funny to begin with … but in all seriousness and slightly as an aside, this blog has helped me form and maintain relationships in a weird but really cool way.  [As one who often struggles to let people into her life, it’s this crazy thing where you can learn about me and my life virtually; that somehow puts me at ease when face-to-face.  But enough about that for now.  Perhaps more in another blog post in the future.]  
As for today, what comes to mind is a favorite quote from Monty Python and the Holy Grail – said with a choppy British accent – “I got bet-tah.”  [See video clip at the end of the post to bring light to this quote if you’re unfamiliar.  Also, you should watch the clip if you would like to learn what else floats in water.  Spoiler alert: Churches and very small rocks.]
Today was a better day.  I won’t say that my confidence has completely been restored or my feet entirely steadied, but I think I might wear the yellow shoes tomorrow, Sabrina [see comment on previous post], to assert the unique feet that are my own/unique person that I am.
That is the truth – that each person is unique.  Even better – that’s the way God intends it.  [A lesson I love exploring with kids.  I should practice what I teach.]  I so easily get caught up in comparing myself to others that I forget to be myself and be content with who I am.  [Okay.  I can’t help it.  Another video clip that comes to mind.  Dawson peeps: Are you really surprised?  Hello, Joyce?]
I am a seminary student but I don’t consider myself an academic.  I’ll never teach at the college level, nor do I have any desire to work towards a doctorate.  That’s not me.  It’s not where my gifts are.  I love [nearly] all aspects of congregational ministry and despite the lack of confidence and momentary freak-outs [which I guess will only be more frequent as graduation grows near – I apologize in advance], this is what I’m called to do.  I learned that last year more than ever, but this year – returning to an academic environment which I feel is not my strength – it’s a struggle to remember that.  
It’s no joke when I say that I have Kendall’s [my internship supervisor] and my internship committee’s final evaluation paragraphs of my year propped upon my study table.  I think I need to be reminded – when I seem to lack the confidence and strength – that other people believe in these gifts I’ve been given and have witnessed my joy in ministry.  Perhaps when I’m called upon to explain my CYF thesis to a class of highly academic classmates, I need to forget the comparisons, and simply “do my best and forget the rest.”  [That’s what Tony Horton says.  Who knew P90x and seminary classes had anything in common?]  
In conclusion: Today was bet-tah.  And thanks, blog friends.
Enough rambling from me.  Now enjoy this:

Can I complain?

15 Feb
I realize there are probably more fruitful avenues for my time and for this blog, but can I complain?
[There is often critique of personal blogs – that they write only of lollipops and rainbows, and give the perception that the life behind the writer is swell.  You officially can no longer say that about my blog.  Also note, I write this not as a pity post.  But it’s where I am tonight.]
Mondays are my nine-hour day of class and we’ll just be honest – I’m mighty crabby at the end of the day that begins at 8am and ends at 9pm.  [If I were wise, I wouldn’t even be writing this right now.  I would be in bed … curing my crabbiness.]  Three three-hour long classes is just a lot on which to focus.  Three hour classes are no good for me to begin with; get me to the end of hour two, and I’m as good as gone.  That’s just a simple fact of Lindsay as a learner.  Multiplied by three plus little introvert Lindsay time and it’s best – at that point – that you don’t engage me in conversation.  Maybe even run in the opposite direction if you see me approaching? 
The kicker of the Monday classes – I feel dumb.  Totally and completely dumb.  Academic theology, Bible knowledge, theological frameworks – I don’t get it like my classmates do.  I never have understood it like others … but now I’m even tired of faking it.  Ask me to speak in class and it’s like the horrid movie – Dumb and Dumberer.  I’m so ready to be done with classes.  To be done with seminary.
Professors don’t notice me; why should they?  I don’t talk because I feel dumb.  [And I have nothing to say.  Literally – brain empty.]  I feel like I’m shoved to the back of my senior class.  I have friends who are called out and seen as leaders to take on special projects and have special relationships with professors.  I have a hard time thinking of even once that a staff member or professor saw me as a leader who could be given extra responsibility or tasks.  [Okay, one.  The Cooking Pastor video.]  I think this is the kicker – I have underlying fears that this will continue as I journey in the first call process.  I’m really not great at first impressions or even second impressions.  [I often joke that to know me is to love me, but to know me takes a long time.]  Will bishops of synods see me as incapable of leadership and not as capable of pastoring a church as my classmates are capable?  Will they see through my cover-up and realize I don’t know all that I should?
Deep down, I know I’m totally capable.  I can be a leader.  I know that I have practical, applicable knowledge and buckets of creativity to use.  But between meetings regarding first call assignment, two classes that made me feel dumb, and one class on women in ministry leadership, it has been a day of feeling insecure.  Of feeling unnoticed.  Internship gave me confidence in myself and in my ability to do ministry – confidence that I feel I’m losing.  Confidence that falters when I remember that next time I’m doing ministry in a congregation, it’s the real deal.  Can I actually do it?
I need to find my feet again and stand upon them firmly.
So if you see them, please let me know.
I’d like to locate them before I start making horrid first impressions to bishops who phone me on my mobile.

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.

approved.

12 Dec
The final step in the candidacy process leading up to graduation and ordination –
approval.
The last approval interview is done with the candidacy committee in one’s home synod.  For me, that meant a trip back to Madison for my meeting on Friday afternoon.  *deep breath*
I walked into the conference room at the synod and found ten people around the table, the seat at the head of the table reserved for me.  *gulp*
Other colleagues of mine who have already gone through approval told me tales of three people.  Four people maybe.  There were definitely ten around this table.  Let the interrogation begin.
We talked about internship – the joys and the frustrations.  We talked about where I was hoping to be placed.  About how I handle conflict and about cardigan sweaters.  (No joke.  Cardigan sweaters came up – but it wasn’t me beginning that conversation.  I only contributed.  And was wearing one.)
Then this young pastor on the committee leaned forward with his large black-rimmed glasses and asked, “What is God up to?”
What is God up to?  I repeated back to him.  It’s a question we ask a lot here at seminary but one often asked within a specific context, not within the world in general.  Holy big question, Batman!
I know what my answer was (and I suppose it was satisfactory since I was approved by the committee); what’s yours?  What is God up to?  In the world?  In your church?  In your life?  Where do you see God working?
An appropriate question at any time, I suppose now it is all too appropriate with the approaching of the Christmas celebration when we call our focus to Immanuel, God with us.  The coming of God into this world.  God is up to a lot through the incarnation, work and person of his son, Jesus.  This holiday season we celebrate God with us and the light that shines in the darkness.  
It’s your turn to answer.  What the heck is God up to?
[Sidenote: As my Grace co-workers knew all too well, my connections between real world and tv/movie land are frequent, sometimes unwelcomed, and often met with blank stares.  Nevertheless, we’ve reached the explanation of a connection again.  Being approved can only make me think of the Target lady skits from SNL, in which the Target employee will yell in a nasal tone with enthusiastic hand gestures, “You’re approved!” when credit card payments go through.  Ignore the credit card payment part and yell with me, “You’re approved!”  Hey.  Thanks.]

lay ’em down.

13 Oct
Tonight confirmation got real.  Not that it had ever been fake … but instead of the ordinary night, there was a big change.  I had bought fleece; we were going to make tie pillows.  I had picked up paint samples so we could decide what color we wanted to paint our room.  We didn’t do any of that.
Last night there was a double suicide in Stillwater.  Two ninth graders – a boyfriend and girlfriend.  They were found dead in a park.  They were not members of Trinity, of our confirmation program, but the ninth graders, along with the seventh and eighth graders, came with heavy hearts, so much emotion, and so many questions.  The planned lessons went out the window.
Pastor TJ talked about all of the empty pages these two now have unwritten in their lives.  How suicide is not heroic.  How even when we think life is hopeless, when you think you’re alone, and you want to close the book on the years to come, there are people to turn to, there are people who love and value each person.  We had communion together, wrote prayers and feelings in marker on a giant sheet of paper, and lit candles as prayers upon the altar.  I didn’t know these two fourteen year olds but that moment of prayer, lighting a candle on the altar, got me.  There I found my connection with God and my moment of mourning.  I cried alongside the girls in my group.  I cried for them and the pain their feeling at the unnecessary loss of two friends and I cried for those families.  I simply cannot imagine.
Paul writes, “For I am convinced that neither death nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”  These verses from Romans were used by Pastor TJ and guided our prayer in our small group.  As we talked in our groups, one of the things we wanted our confirmands to leave with was a list – a list of three people they can talk to no matter what, a list of three people to whom they can go in any circumstance.  The ladies in my group are blessed to be wonderfully supported by each other and by families.  Amen to that.  But to those who feel alone and hopeless, I hope they left with that list and that they’ll use it.
As I took my half hour drive back to St.Paul from Stillwater, this was the song, by needtobreathe, that my car cd player repeated over and over at my prompting — 
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