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Retreat success.

8 Sep

There are a few words I could use to describe how I’m currently feeling:

sleepy, exhausted, delirious, dog-tired, worn out, tuckered, and happily fulfilled.

It was a crazy weekend.  It was overnight-confirmation-retreat weekend.  Seven youth from ROG went along with me to Good Earth Village camp to meet up with six of jD’s youth from his two churches.  Together we were 13 which, wouldn’t you know, is the perfect number with which to reenact the famous Last Supper painting:

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The topic of the retreat revolved around the two Lutheran sacraments – baptism and communion – along with some intentional conversation about grace.  We communed together, baptized a gnome [ … for real.  Kind of.  His parents named him Norman James.], team-built, played life size Jenga, did skits [the creativity of the skits blew me away – the awesomeness of these kids continually exceeds my expectations], and had boatloads of fun.  jD’s kids had fun.  My kids had fun.  We all had fun.  Our churches will have to plan to do more things together throughout the year; it worked out so well.

We shared highs and lows with each other before we left camp.  Every single high from every single confirmation kid was along these lines: My high is making new friends and being here.  At the same time, every single low from every single confirmation kid was along these lines: My low is that we can’t stay another night and we have to go home.

I’ll call that retreat success.  In addition to having fun, we also hope they left with a definition of grace seared in their brains.  Something like … the unconditional love of God that is free, forever, and for all.  That would be good.

With what I’m about to say next, I want you to listen really super closely because I never say things like this.  Ready?  I love confirmation. [Okay.  That was a joke.  I actually say it all the flippin’ time.]   I love my confirmation youth.  I love middle schoolers.  Weekends like this – kids like this – that’s why I love this job.

Pastor Evan officiates a gnome baptism.
“I baptize you …”
Milk and cookies snack.
life size Jenga
marble track teambuilder

a-punch-to-my-introvert’s-stomach.

5 Jun

“Pastor Lindsay seemed quite shy and had difficulty engaging in conversation with others.”

There it is again.

This isn’t the first appearance of such observations.  When I was going through candidacy [the process through which the ELCA approves pastors for ordination], I was required to take a psych eval and meet with a psychologist to go over the results.

I remember driving to this strange office building in Madison and sitting in a sterile room with this doctor.  He drew a line on his white board.  On the left side of the line, he wrote Introvert.  On the right, he wrote Extrovert.  Then he put an X where I had come out on the exam I had taken.  It looked something like this –

  _x________________________________________________
Introvert                                                                        Extrovert

He told me engaging in the world as a pastor and such an extreme introvert would be difficult.  In a candidacy meeting that followed, the committee told me I should “work on my introvert nature,” which I took to mean as change.  Being an introvert wasn’t acceptable for a pastor.  I had to talk more and be more extroverted is what I heard them telling me.  Introvert became a dirty word.

The first line of this post comes from an evaluation I just received.  It came from people whom I only met once; that was their first impression of me.  Quite shy with difficulty engaging in conversation.  You know, maybe I was.  But that certainly wasn’t my goal.  I tried so hard not to be.

And the truth of it is, I met with this group of people one night for a couple hours and I was exhausted for the rest of the week afterwards.  Literally – the rest of the week.  I spent so much energy to be – what I thought was – talkative and out-going for those couple hours.  [Because that’s what an introvert does – becomes exhausted from being with people and doing their best to play an extrovert.]  And still, my version of talkative and out-going was their shy and disengaged.  *sigh*

I am an introvert and sure, I suppose that sometimes might come across as shy or disengaged.  That’s not intentional  Sitting in silence doesn’t bother me one tiny bit, neither does listening more than talking.  Sure, I will avoid small talk when I can [Susan Cain, author of Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking, calls small talk a horror for many introverts.  In certain situations, I could agree.]; if I see someone I know in the grocery store, I just might go down a different aisle  to avoid a hello and how are you.  [That’s sad but true.  But, of course, I’ve never avoided you.  Promise.]

Punch to the gut or not, I’m owning it.  This is who I am.  Hello, my name is Lindsay and I’m an introvert.  Let’s have an in-depth one-on-one conversation and then have quiet time by ourselves.

The favorite things I did on Friday.

18 May

I didn’t post any favorites yesterday.  I didn’t even open my computer because I was busy doing some of my favorite things.  Favorite things like what?, asks the chorus.  Favorite things like this:

I slept in until 10.  TEN.  After a couple weeks of roofers waking me up by 7, it was needed.  And you have to love a dog that not only lets you sleep until ten but actually keeps sleeping longer.  Mabel is a sleeping rock star.

I ate breakfast and watched the SERIES finale of The Office.  The Office has been a part of my life for the last nine years.  It’s sad to see it end but it was good.  It was good.

I cleaned.  It’s been a long while since I’ve had a Friday morning/afternoon to be at home and tidy up.  Quite honestly, a Friday at home to clean is one of my favorite things.  I put away the boxes that came back with me from Geep’s and washed my sheets; unloaded the dishwasher and washed dishes.  It was productive.  And awesome.

Mabel and I went for a walk and then it was off to the cities for me.  A bit over a month ago, I got together with three college friends for a game night.  We scheduled a second one for last night and there is now a third on the calendar for June which will take place here in Austin.  I like what we have going on.  Last night we played Settlers: Cities and Knights.  it was at least a three hour game and lots of fun for a Friday night.

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Dear Lindsay of middle school,

24 Apr

As a pastor who loves working with confirmation-aged kids, I catch glimpses of my own past middle school experience as the confirmation kids share their own experiences.  I slightly remember* what it was like to be awkward and a seventh grader.  It wasn’t easy.

I was so incredibly lucky to have awesome friends.  More or less the same awesome friends I still have now.  [Dancing Banana shout-out!]  But there was still drama.  There was judging.  There is terrible shit that goes on in middle schools.  And I can’t imagine it if one doesn’t have awesome friends.

There are a couple gals in my confirmation class that often only have lows to share in the rounds of highs & lows.  A lot of time, those lows are there’s just lots of drama at school.

Ugh.  Drama.

What I want to say to them is much like what I would say to my own middle-school self –

Dear Lindsay of middle school,

Being popular doesn’t matter for shit.  Forget those queen bees.  They suck.  You should just be nice to everyone.  [And probably not say people suck.  That wasn’t nice, future Lindsay.]

Be friends with the people who make you happy and people with whom you can be yourself and silly.  Form a gang.  Call it Oatmeal.  Make cardboard necklaces for everyone in the gang with raw oats glued to them.  Your name as gang leader shall be Raisin. **

The boys are pretty cute, aren’t they?  But don’t worry about them.  Just because they’re eye candy doesn’t mean they’re worth crying over.

School work is important but trying to get straight A’s isn’t worth sick stomachs and sleepless nights.  And hey – good job on that newspaper writing competition.

Please, quit wearing the over-sized flannel shirts and carpenter jeans sooner than later.

That one day, after school, when marching band rehearsal gets out late and everyone sprints back to the band room – hold onto your flute a little tighter.  Trust me.

The drama will end.  It will be okay.

Signed,

Future Lindsay

I started to write this post before confirmation met tonight.  I finish it after confirmation.  After the one confirmand who-never-has-a-high-and-her-low-is-always-drama had a high that the drama has ended.  Hallelujah.  Confirmation was awesome tonight.  Not only did every seventh and eighth grader have a high – if not many – we threw out our lesson for the night because all they wanted to do was ask questions.  About God.  About the Bible.  About doubts.  We tackled a few tonight the best we could and they made a list for next week.  Here’s to the freedom to ask questions and doubt in church.  Important stuff.

* I quite literally remember NOTHING about my seventh grade year.  It’s a blur to me.  I remember some of sixth grade and some of eight but seventh?  Nada.

** True story.

A Saturday slump. And goodbye, Facebook.

13 Apr

Sometimes I think quitting facebook would be a really, really wise decision.  I read this article the other day and it has stuck with me – Instagram’s Envy Effect.   If you don’t want to read it, allow me to summarize.  When people post on social media [instagram, facebook, etc.], people share a partial truth about their lives.  A perfect family photo … but not the fight that happened five minutes before.  The perfectly decorated party … but not the mess that came afterwards.  Etc, etc.  It’s so true.  I don’t instagram photos of hacked sewing jobs before I take the seam ripper to them.

The other part of this equation is that we refresh our twitter/facebook/instagram feeds [I’m guilty of all three.] when we’re bored or feeling sad or lonely [yup, occasionally all three].  Right?

When you’re laughing at a meal with friends, are you scrolling through Pinterest? When you’re in labor with your much-prayed-for-deeply-loved child, are you checking to see what’s happening on Instagram? Of course not. We check in with our phones when it seems like nothing fun is happening in our own lives—when we’re getting our oil changed or waiting for the coffee to brew.

It makes sense, then, that anyone else’s fun or beauty or sparkle gets under our skin. It magnifies our own dissatisfaction with that moment. When you’re waiting for your coffee to brew, the majority of your friends probably aren’t doing anything any more special.

But it only takes one friend at the Eiffel Tower to make you feel like a loser.

This happened to me this morning.  I already wasn’t looking forward to my day.  There were a couple things on my to-do list that weren’t real high on my I-want-to-spend-my-Saturday-doing-this scale.   I checked facebook only to find glimpses of more people engaged, more people having cute babies, and more people traveling and doing fun things while I faced my Saturday with less than any enthusiasm.  One more real life example of what the article articulated.

That being said, I’m not quitting facebook.  But you won’t see me there any too often.  We’re going to spend some time apart.  I think it will be good for me.  And then I’ll have more time to do other stuff.  Like go to quilt shops and go for walks with Mabel and call my mommy, all of which I did today and all of which were very good additions to my Saturday.  See, it wasn’t all bad.  But at 8am this morning when I was catching up with facebook happenings – those small, perfect glances into friends’ and acquaintances’ lives that make mine feel boring and behind compared to my age demographic – you would have thought the world was ending by my reaction.  Enough of that, lady.

Enough of that.

Connections.

27 Mar

This post begins with the connection between Rachel Held Evans and Henri Nouwen.

That sentence might make you say who?  Rachel Held Evans is the theologian and author of the book I quoted just a while ago on the blog.  Henri Nouwen was a theologian and priest; an author of many, many books, one of which I too just quoted a bit ago here.  I follow Rachel on twitter and read her blog.  I have more than a couple Nouwen books on my shelves and I pull them out from time to time; I find them full of enriching nuggets of faith and comfort.

This week, these two separate worlds collided in a super meaningful way.  I clicked on a tweet from Rachel with a link to her recent blog post; she’s been facilitating a discussion on gay marriage on her blog and using two separate books to guide the conversation. Both books are by gay men of faith but while one has chosen celibacy, the other believes a relationship with another man could be blessed by God.  [Curious more?  Here is the post of which I speak.]

Here is where my mind was blown: one of the books Rachel uses speaks of dear Mr. Nouwen at length.  I did not know that Nouwen was gay; heck, I didn’t even know that he was a priest before I began to eavesdrop on this conversation.  I knew that I loved his writing and that was about it.  But now, as it turns out, I love it more because I can relate to the places from which it comes.

Henri Nouwen was lonely.  He wrestled intensely with loneliness, persistent cravings for affection and attention, immobilizing fears of rejection, and a restless desire to find a home where he could feel safe and cared for. [p. 87]  To quote Rachel who quotes the book which quotes Philip Yancey –

Nouwen, who later in life confessed that he had known since he was six years old that he was attracted to members of his own sex, would, in lectures and books, “speak of the strength he gained from living in community, then drive to a friend’s house, wake him up at two in the morning, and, sobbing, ask to be held.”

Now granted, I am fully aware that I am not a celibate gay priest [really?  really.], nor am I in the least  marginalized because of my sexual orientation, but gosh, to some degree, I can relate to that.

I have begun the very healthy and wise practice of seeing a counselor.  We’ve only met twice but I can see why people do this.  It will be fruitful.  Just this last time we met, I was talking about something or other and her response to me was, It sounds like you’re lonely.  Bingo.

I’m still not super sure what to do about that besides – for some insane reason – choosing to be super vulnerable with the world and spill it on the blog.  [As if you didn’t already know.]  Knowing what I do about Henri Nouwen and as I google search and order his biography to learn more, I find myself drawn to his writing in deeper ways.  There are perhaps some other life changes looming on my horizon, too. I realize that I need to facilitate the move from being lonely; I think I’m working on it.  We’ll see where life takes me; hopefully in the direction of community, new friends, and a world of less lonely.

A meditation.

21 Mar

[A meditation.]

At any given moment, I’m in the middle of approximately five books.  It’s a blessing and a curse.  Currently, they’re all non-fiction and non-fiction books & I get along in the beginning.  But we rarely make it to the end.  I’m about half-way through all of them.  I’ll pick one up, then another, all while forgetting about the third [and forth and fifth] still sitting on the shelf.

One current read is A Year of Biblical Womanhood by Rachel Held Evans.  It’s delightful; I don’t think I’ll have trouble making it to the end of this one.  And within its digital pages on my kindle, I found an ancient meditation by St. Teresa of Avila that I love.  I should pray it each and every day.

Let nothing upset you,
Let nothing startle you.
All things pass;
God does not change.
Patience wins all it seeks.
Whoever has God lacks nothing.
God alone is enough.

God alone is enough.  Amen.

It’s not going to be easy –

11 Mar

It’s not going to be easy to listen to God’s call.  Your insecurity, your self-doubt, and your great need for affirmation make you lose trust in your inner voice and run away from yourself.  But you know that God speaks to you through your inner voice and that you will find joy and peace only if you follow it.  Yes, your spirit is willing to follow, but your flesh is weak.

You have friends who know that your inner voice speaks the truth and who can affirm what it says.  They offer you the safe space where you can let that voice become clearer and louder.  There will be people who will tell you that you are wasting your time and talents, that you are fleeting from true responsibility, that you fail to use the influence you have.  But don’t let yourself be misled.  They do not speak in God’s name.  Trust the few who know your inner journey and want you to be faithful to it.  They will help you stay faithful to God’s call.

Henri J. M. Nouwen, The Inner Voice of Love

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A story of how I got left at the altar.

5 Mar

[A story of how I got left at the altar.]  It’s a snow day for the local schools.  The custodian came out to church while I was there and brought her kids along.  The youngest – we’ll call her T. – is always my biggest helper when she’s here.  She’s five -ish and eager to do anything.  Today, she helped me finish a bulletin board in the hallway and then she wanted to color on my white board.  Cool.  Go to town, T.

She finished the picture out of my view and then asked me to guess what she had drawn.  There’s no way I could have anticipated this one.  She turned the white board around –

T: That’s you.  (pointing to the purple lady)
Me: Cool.  What’s the red stuff?
T: Roses.  It’s your wedding.
Me: It’s my wedding?!
T: Yup.  And you’re surrounded by roses!
Me: Where’s my husband?
T: Oh.  He didn’t want to come.

Is this a prophet in my midst?  Is she telling signs of my future?

Me: He didn’t want to come to his own wedding?
T: Actually it’s not your wedding.  It’s your birthday party.  But he still didn’t want to come.  He doesn’t like roses.

A birthday party for me and I’m the only one who shows up.

At least I bought myself flowers, I guess.

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I give thanks.

17 Feb

[I give thanks.] A post written in the rhythm of @UnvirtuousAbbey without the awesome humor and retweets. Read mine and then add your own. What do you give thanks for this day?

For a mandoline to quickly and uniformly slice sweet potatoes for the week, I give thanks. It’s like the guillotine. For yams.

For members who one day are seemingly against anything I say and the next day are the ones volunteering to pray and bringing bars of soap for our LWR care kits, I give thanks.

For completely sincere, supportive, and loving emails from a sincere, supportive, and loving friend, I give thanks. [That’s all you, broken mothership.]

For dark chocolate sea salt popcorn, I give thanks. For the P90x cardio dvd to offset the dark chocolate sea salt popcorn, I also give thanks.

For internet that finally works without powering down the router at church every six to eight hours, I give immense thanks.

For a double dose of The Bachelor this week, I will give thanks. [No judging. Sometimes the prospect of trashy tv gets me through my day.]

For Hannah who made me a tissue paper flower and helped me set up for worship, I give thanks. [Hannah -6ish years old- made tissue paper flowers with her grandma. Her grandma asked, “Who do you want to give this to?” certain the answer would be her mother. Unprompted, her response was Pastor Lindsay. I melt.]

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Your turn.

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