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Dancing Bananas.

4 Dec
It’s just a fruit.
And it’s a little ridiculous to think that they can dance.
The Dancing Bananas are facing trials and tribulations by the bushel basket these days.
Surgeries. 
Child custody.
Job uncertainty.
Fertility wonderings.
Questions about the future.
Potential moves cross country.
Aggressive cancer in a father-in-law.
Searching for answers to medical conditions.
It’s a lot.  So much.  The emails are nearly daily at this point with communication, support, and funny stories in the midst of it all.  The seven of us currently live in five different states and it’s been nearly ten years since we graduated from high school.
I’m not completely sure what holds us together and so tightly.  Maybe it’s the fact that you don’t often find bananas that dance.  We’re rare and find comfort in being odd together.  Or that we love each other and have been friends for over twenty years.
The bananas of the world are meant to unite, jump, dance, and go.  And so we do, along with support, hug, and love.  Early morning phone calls, cake pop care packages, and anything more.  I love my Dancing Bananas.

a doggy tale.

28 Sep
There’s something I didn’t tell you last night.

I met a new friend.  
She might come live with me.
She’s five and a pure-bred yellow lab.  She’s house-trained [they think – she keeps her kennel clean] and can sit, shake, and lay down.  She seems friendly and awesome and definitely a dog I could love.  I filled out my application at the humane society and they will let me know within a week if Angel can come home with me.  Apparently she has been there for a few weeks and there has been little to no interest in her; most people want a puppy.  I, however, will celebrate that she won’t eat my shoes and I don’t need to fork out money for her to be spayed.  Click here.  Choose dogs and scroll to the bottom to see Angel.  [If you want.  I don’t mean to be bossy.]
*clears throat*  About that name.  As a pastor – really, just as a human being – I refuse to stand outside and call loudly, “Angel!”  Especially when the neighbor dog has such a cool name – Neutron.
You know my brother has yellow lab too.  Jetta is right around five years old too.  Perhaps that’s why I could love Angel and want to give her a home.  She reminds me of the lab mutts we always had growing up and specifically of Jetta dear.

Here’s Jetta.

It’s not the best photo in the world; she was anxious to go outside and couldn’t believe I was making her sit.  This was the one photo she let me take while I visited her in Alaska.  I think I was just a friendly stranger to her now; she’s forgotten her auntie.  sniffle.

That’s pretty much what Angel looks like but I’d gather that Angel is a bit bigger, especially with a bigger head.  Jetta’s a petite girl.  Brother Matt wonders if I will name Angel something like Passat.  I must say it crossed my mind.  [Golf, Touareg, or Phaeton would just be silly.]
Or Darcy.  Darcy has been the name I’ve had for a long time in my head.  [Naturally, my love of P&P shines through here.  Don’t judge me, Lizzy, don’t you dare judge me.]
Doggy name thoughts?
I’ll keep you posted on my application process and should the humane society decide that I would be a responsible doggy mommy, the tales which follow will be plenty.  So many tales that you may curse this blog and wish I never got a dog in the first place.  You’ve been warned.  

home.

25 Aug
This word is on the brain.  Home.
According to my handy dandy dictionary [yeah.  I’m going to the dictionary.  *cliche*], a home is the place where one lives permanently.  I’m going to have to disagree, mr. dictionary man.  [I’m picking a fight so I’ll make the dictionary male.]  I’ve felt lately like I have more than just one home.  It’s not about permanent residence but about a lot more.
I spent last night in Dawson and when I return to this small southwestern Minnesota town, it feels like I’m going home.  The downtown is familiar, the air is sweet, and it’s where my Grace family lives.  It took me a long while into my year-long internship in this town to say that it ever felt like home, but now, even after I’ve been gone for almost exactly one calendar year, it still feels like going home.  
I arrived and promptly went to the home of my friend, C., to check in with him and his family which included a new addition of baby brother.  I drove up to the house, C. came running over, said, “Hi Lindsay!” and promptly ran past me and jumped into the driver seat of the car.  For the rest of my visit, that’s where he and his sister sat, pressing buttons, wearing my sunglasses and enjoying Sprocket.  It was fine by me because then I could hold the new baby, sweet as sweet can be.  I even got to feed him a bottle.  I think I want one some day.
From there, I picked up Mr. Organist and we went off to the Taste of Grace, an annual fundraiser supper at Grace.  I was wonderfully greeted and hugged by many congregation members.  [Others just kinda looked at me, realizing I was an anachronism.]  I loved it.  Harry, the member who consistently called me Sweet Pea, found me and used the nickname more than once.  [Only he can pull it off; I think I’d punch anyone else who tried such a name so get no ideas.]  I loved the catch-up conversations and the laughs.  I love the people of Grace.
I had a wonderful time with many former coworkers – a party that lasted until 2am and a lunch the next day thrown on top like the quintessential cherry.  It was the perfect night to sit outside and be like we used to be.  I think the staff agrees with me when I say we were tight-knit; I consider them great friends and I miss not being with them every day.  We talked about decorative grasses and extensively about oatmeal. [yeah. we’re that cool.]  The following day I had awesome conversation and lunch with Lori, the interim pastor I worked with upon first arriving in Dawson.  She has become a great mentor to me and it had been a year since we had seen each other – a year!  Certainly too long and not to be so long in the future, as plans will hopefully work to cross paths in Austin.
Now tonight, continuing the nomadic lifestyle that is my August, I stay in Stillwater with my Stillwater family.  Mark and Karen have welcomed me into their house so many times before; I even know where the spare key is.  [No, I will not tell you.]  It’s another place to me that feels like a home.  I feel comfortable, welcomed and always loved when I step inside these doors.  I feel known.  It’s a safe place of friends and great conversation.  
While my driver’s license currently reads with an Edgerton address as my permanent residence, that soon will change too.  Minnesota plates will be attached to Sprocket and my license will hold an Austin address.  A parsonage – to which I move in just over a week – will become yet another home to me.  The Edgerton home fits the dictionary definition; it is certainly a place that is a home and always will be.  But I think there’s more to home than the dictionary tells us.  It’s a place to feel loved, welcomed, and appreciated.  A place with friends and family, and a place you love to gather, to stay, and to visit.  Edgerton, Dawson, Mark and Karen’s house, and more to come – I’m blessed with many homes.  Incredibly blessed.

It was good.

24 Aug
[But now I need some major introvert Lindsay time.]
I’ve spent the last two days visiting my future congregation in Austin.  It was at the suggestion of the council that I visit and get a grip on a few things before diving in and beginning in September.  Wanting to make good on the council’s suggestion and come in on a good foot, I agreed to meet with the current interim, see what he had to say, and stay in the community for a few nights.
The interim showed me points of interest in the surrounding towns and gave me a few tips that he has learned as a pastor at Red Oak Grove.  A few things that he showed me were very helpful. [And a few … well.]  We had some good theological conversation with two very different perspectives – he as a pastor on the brink of retirement and me as one who is just beginning of another generation.  There were moments when I was really excited and moments when I was really terrified about what in the world I have gotten myself into …
A really good moment – despite the surprise of it – was the meet and greet that was planned for Tuesday night.  [I was not made aware that this would even be happening until Monday night – surprise!]  It was at the local pizza place and members knew that they could stop in and meet me – the new pastor – between 5:30 and 7.  Many members took advantage of it and I meeted and greeted until I was exhausted.  [I’m still exhausted!  Four hours in the car alone will be awesome to recharge.]  I got many flicks of the hand with “You’ll fit right in here.  I can already tell!” and only a few comments about my age.  [Unlike the interim who liked to add, “And that was only last year!” to my line of “We sold the farm when I was 16.”]  I think they are right – I think I’ll fit in.  They seem like a really great crew.
Who’s excited?  This girl.  
Now onward to Dawson for a night of gnome friends!  
Who’s excited for that?  This girl.

wedding frustrations.

4 Aug
Weddings have me frustrated these days.  Theologically, culturally, socially … I’m confused and not quite sure about a lot of things.  This is in no regard to myself having a wedding [loooong way off, folks] but rather in regards to doing weddings.  Recall with me [least you forget after my million+one blog posts about it] that I was ordained a few weeks ago.  Pastor Lindsay here.  With the office of pastor is the state recognizing that I can perform wedding ceremonies legally.  Perfect, because I have one to perform this coming Saturday.
I’m finding it to be a fine line – a fine line with complicated turns and steep confusion.  I love it that family and friends ask me to be a part of their weddings in this way as an officiant or preacher.  I love being involved in their day, especially when it does not require me purchasing a $200 dress, $60 shoes, and paying for $80 alterations on an outfit I’ll never wear again.  [Been there, done that and it was fun.  But in my current unemployed state, not purchasing a dress is fine by me!]  But sometimes I wonder if I’m asked to do the ceremony because I’m the easy route and likely the cheap route.  That’s one complication but then theology and culture begin to meld together in interesting ways – ways that, frankly, make me uncomfortable as a pastor.  
I’m called to be a pastor and feel strongly that to marry people is done in a service of praise.  We praise God for the love that He first gives to us, and for the love the we are called to share with others.  We praise God and we make promises before God.  Not only the wedding couple, either, is responsible to uphold their promises to each other, but the assembly gathered promises to lift up the couple in support and prayer.  A wedding is a service of praise and thanksgiving; it is a worship service.  
I’m not quite sure what to do when the couples that I marry – those whom are friends and in my family and whom I love dearly – don’t agree with this approach to the wedding ceremony.  I’m not quite sure what to do when they ask for God language to be removed and for prayers to be few or even completely absent.  I don’t know what to suggest when they don’t want the readings to come from Scripture or how to address the urgency to just get the ceremony over because the party is to follow.  And just because I can doesn’t mean I feel it’s right to just go out and marry people – I think that pre-marital counseling and thoughtful planning [other than just the dress and menu] needs to be considered.  I never dreamed I would feel so conflicted when I agreed [happily and readily!] to do these weddings.
I’m just confused.  Like I said, I’m honored that they asked me to be a part of their day and I’m happy to help them in this way.  But I’m torn between pleasing them and their wants in a wedding service to my convictions in faith of what a wedding really is and my call as a pastor.  Is my job to help them plan the ceremony they want?  That’s where I’ve landed right now, and I think I’ve landed there because, well, it’s easiest.  Not being a part of a church quite yet and with the couples being close friends/family, I feel it’s my duty to go along with whatever they desire.  But to me, that kinda feels like cheating.  Cheating God, cheating the office of pastor, or cheating the couple – I’m not sure.  Likely a bit of all of those.
Culture is no help in this regard.  It’s the show of the wedding and then the reception that is the focus.  The wedding industry makes little profit on the religiosity, order of service, or anything else that directly deals with the details of the actual service.  The focus is on the dress, the decor, and the cake.  I’m all for pretty weddings and fancy receptions if you really want to pay for it, but the ceremony and the promises made before God and the loved ones gathered is the reason for it all.  Can’t we put a little more thought, energy, and time into the meaning of the day?  [It’s like the fight over Christmas all over again …]
If anything, this wedding planning and officiating is making me more aware and prepared as I will come up against this year after year when doing weddings.  [But I also feel I will have more authority to address it as a pastor in a church.]  It is also helping me think about my own far-far-off wedding that may perhaps happen someday.  Wedding industry be damned – I vow to not buy into it when it’s my turn.  It’s not for me, and, honestly, the whole of it makes me angry.  It also helps me to understand what I’ve heard muttered from many pastor’s lips and why many would say they’d rather do a funeral than a wedding.  [Not that funerals are good or happy that someone has died … but you know what I mean.  Right?]

twelve total reasons.

7 Jul
to begin, this is not a pity post.  at all.  just thoughts.  [are we clear?]
I’ve thought a lot about my single-ness since moving home.  I’ve watched The Proposal with Ryan Reynolds and Sandra Bullock about 86 times because it seems to play on the movie channels at all the right times, and I’ll admit, I get easily sucked into nearly any movie with Ryan Reynolds.  It probably does not help to watch a movie about marriage over and over. But also, my friends here are all attached – boyfriends, marriages, and babies.  They’re not apt to spontaneously invite me to do something, or apt to accept a spontaneous invitation from me.  They have other people intimately a part of their life; they live with other people.  I’m involved in three weddings for friends this summer/fall [plus one of a cousin].  I told one of those friends that she could have my “and guest” back and give it to someone else as she struggles to keep numbers down for the reception.  She told me, “It’s in September; you never know!”  Yes, it is a few months off but nope, pretty sure I won’t need that “and guest.”  [Though I also wouldn’t mind being proven wrong.]
Which leads me to my point – a college friend posted this article to facebook tonight – Single for Six Reasons.  The author of this article wrote it in response to another article under the same premise – Why You’re Not Married – which gives another six reasons why one might be single.
The six reasons why you’re not married in the original article [written by a television writer, mind you; these are her words, not mine] are as follows: you’re a b***h, you’re shallow, you’re a slut, you’re a liar, you’re selfish, and you’re not good enough.  Hmm.  I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that I don’t agree.  To any of my single lady friends – these are most certainly not why you’re/we’re not in relationships.  Some credit to the humorist as she does continue to say that she certainly does not believe that last one, but rather, it’s ourselves who think we’re not good enough.  [Breaks my heart.  Thank goodness for Jesus in whose eyes we are always loved and enough.  If only we would think the same about ourselves and each other.]
The six reasons in rebuttal?  You’re patient, you’re confident, you’re successful, you’re beautiful, you won’t accept anything less than you deserve, and you know what you want.  I like these reasons better; these I would like to believe.
Truth be told, for the whole variety of single women out there, any and all of the twelve [plus some] might come into play – agree with them or not and whether I think they apply to my life or not.  But what I agree with most – and I think this comes out of both the original and the rebuttal – is how key it is to know oneself.  I’ll preach until the cows come home [unless they’re traveling from a very very far distance] that self-awareness and knowledge of self is important.  Super-duper important.  
So if I feel like I’m self-aware and know myself as an individual, does that mean I’ve earned my boyfriend card?  That’s okay.  Right now, I’ll play the I’m-okay-being-single card.  I can watch as much Friends as I want and quilt like an old lady with no other commitments.  [phew, right?]  [Though I will also confess in my boredom I have continued to research a trip to Quebec City.  I feel like it would be a great honeymoon destination … or maybe as a I-turned-30-and-find-myself kind of trip.  Time will tell.]  
I feel as if this was a bit of a pointless post.  I guess I wanted to share those articles, without completely letting go of my control or showing my complete and utter vulnerability.  Check?  Check.
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