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Friday Favorites.

3 May

As this post is published, I am in northern Wisconsin on a retreat for first call pastors.  It’s likely that – despite the rain and snow and cold temperatures that are threatened – I will be enjoying the wilderness of Heartwood once again.  And the good company of first call pastors.  While I’m away, here’s a round-up of my favorites:

I want to crawl up inside of these and live.  How gorgeous and delicious do these spring vegetable potstickers look?  I’ve never made potstickers.  I think it’s time to try.

This great article about God’s plan for us and whether it’s as if we are following written directions or a GPS.  [Recalculating.  Recalculating.]

Pretzel.  Toffee.  Chocolate.  Brownies.  Peanut butter.  This has all of the sweetest trigger words.

If I had an ice cream maker …

I want to do this.  Buy three mismatched, well used wooden chairs and paint them.  It’s unfortunate that  the 100 mile garage sale is happening this weekend while I’m retreating.  And this weekend while it’s cold and snowy.  IN MAY.

More favorite things?  My confirmation students.  Again.  Wednesday night was a deep, awesome night of digging into deep questions and asking more of them.  I blew their mind when we talked about Jesus returning.  One kid literally had his hands on his head as he rocked back and forth.  I think to keep his blown brain inside his skull.

28 Apr

I napped in the hammock.

I wore my yellow keens.

I drank iced coffee.

I walked with Mabel.

I sewed the binding on a quilt.

What more does a sunny Sunday afternoon need?

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Happiness and stuff.

27 Apr

What makes you really happy?

Ready?  Go!

Make a list.

I’ll wait.

[Need some music while you make a list.  Listen to this.  My confirmation kiddos loved it while they compiled lists of questions.]

Okay.  You have your list.  Now how many of those lines on your list are things?

I’m guessing not a whole lot.

More than likely, the bullet points on your list are words like family, friends, traveling, a job that’s fulfilling, meaningful relationships, learning, new experiences.  Right?  Things don’t make us happy.  We hear that all the time from educated people and studies.  Just because you have the great house and all the toys doesn’t equal happiness.  Right?

Right.  But damned if we don’t try.

I’ve noticed that in myself lately.  I’ve always known it’s true but this past week, I’ve noticed pronouncedly what all the experts say.  I buy something [new minty green bag from Target – on clearance; a new coffee table; 300 awesome straws from IKEA] and get a little excited.  I’ll carry the bag or put my feet up on the coffee table or drink iced coffee out of a great straw and think, This is the life.  Until it’s next week and it’s just old hat.  The bag will get dirty, the coffee table will gather dust and dog hair, and I will have cycled through every color of my new straws.  It isn’t so exciting anymore.  We’re back to square one and I just want to buy more stuff to simulate the immediate buyer’s happiness.

Darn experts.  They’re right.  Colorful straws [and big tvs and ipads and everything we’ve ever wanted] don’t make us happy in the long term.

How do we get it through our thick skulls when my brain seems to be wired towards accumulating things?  I literally hear myself correcting my own thinking when there is a thing I think I need.  Your life won’t change because of a thing, I tell myself.  Sometimes I listen.

And other times I buy 300 straws from IKEA.  [I really like straws.]

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.

This week –

9 Apr

I’m trying to be a better, healthier, more whole-food eater and trying all sorts of things as a result.  Salads in jars, more Thai chicken quinoa, date-and-peanut-balls, and HOMEMADE GRANOLA BARS.  That’s in caps because – holy shit – they are delicious.  It might be the coconut oil.  And the dried cherries.  And a little bit of sesame.

The other part of my better, healthier being is figuring out my sleep.  Goal: In bed reading at 10.  Lights out at 10:30.  That goal has failed in execution more than it has been successful.  The early bedtime was instated because I can’t. get. out. of. the. bed. in. the. morning.  Ever.  But really I just end up sleeping more because I go to bed early and still stay in bed just as late.  Enter new app.  It’s pretty cool and wakes me up within the best place for waking in my sleep cycle.

The better, healthier Lindsay is also – thanks to awareness from her counselor – becoming aware of her distorted thinking.  Distorted thinking is when I am hard on myself, when I assess situations to be all or nothing, when I discard compliments I receive as not true.  Distorted thinking is basically how my brain works so it’s being aware of my negative thoughts, turning them around, and “telling the negative committee inside my head to shut up.”

That’s my week, along with meetings, two-hour long pastoral visits [I need to work on leaving.], rain, and hanging with confirmation kids.  How’s your week?

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 hand offered.

19 Mar

[A hand offered.]  A gentleman offered me his hand tonight.

No, not that.

I was about to cross over the treacherous bit of parking lot that was covered with chunky ice and the deceiving is-it-water-or-ice-in-between-kinda stuff.  I was wearing dress shoes and being slightly cautious.  The gentleman I was walking with offered his hand to help me over the icy patch.

It delighted me.

Call it chivalry.  Call it an action of caring.  Call it what you will but it made me happy inside.

Perhaps it made me feel cared for.  Perhaps it helped me to feel … no.  Actually, pretty sure it is the first.  I felt cared for.

I know I have oodles of family and friends and people in my life who care for me.  Don’t get me wrong – I know that.  [Once more – I know.  And I thank you, family and friends.]  But on a day-to-day basis, I don’t often have people by my side offering a hand [or a hug or a pat on the back] to help me thru an icy patch – be it actual ice or a metaphor.  [One guess who is feeling deprived of physical touch these days.  Hugs are important, people.]

I didn’t actually take his hand.  Dumb, independent Lindsay turned down help again.  I opted for safer crossing a couple feet down the sidewalk.  If I was going down, he didn’t need to go down with me.

All the same, thank you, mister man, for your act of caring.  It was probably just second nature to you and what your momma taught you was right to do, but I appreciated it.  Enough to even write a blog post about it.  That says something.  [But not a whole lot.  QC isn’t a super high order around here.]

Friday Favorites.

15 Mar

[Friday Favorites.]

I’m into reading about food lately.  Books by chefs and cool people like that.  Current reads: The Sweet Life in Paris by my favorite Parisan food blogger and An Everlasting Meal by Tamar Adler.

Travel Cat on Jaunted.com travel site.  Apparently people submit photos of cats while traveling.  This particular one is by @theangryskittle, aka my older brother.

Oh, no, you didn’t.  I’m drooling at the computer.  [almond-thumbprint-cookies-with-dark-chocolate-and-sea-salt.]  These should be on my weekend to-do list.  If I had people to share it with, I would be making this for Sunday – Magic Munch for St.Patty’s.  Since we’re talking about food [always], I’ve made this recipe for sweet potato fries with avocado twice in the last week.  It’s the paprika.

If my hair is losing its curl, what does this then mean?

Source: tumblr.com via Priscilla on Pinterest

And isn’t this the truth –

Source: Uploaded by user via Kristina on Pinterest

That’s all for today, folks.  Happy weekend!

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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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Friday Favorites.

1 Mar

[Friday Favorites.]  I don’t have much for favorites this week.  Instead of being online or finding cools things on pinterest, I’ve been writing sermons and preparing for funerals.  Hopefully, I’ll be back in full force next Friday.  For now, just two things –

First, I went on a search for instrumental music to use during our Wednesday night Lenten service.  Just by happy happenstance, I clicked on this album because of it’s beautiful cover.  In a Time Lapse.  I’m in love.  I ended up buying the whole album and have listened to it a lot in the last couple days.  It’s great for writing sermons.

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Second, I just caught up on Jon Stewart during my breakfast this morning.  This segment on maple syrup in Canada struck me as one of the most funny things I’ve seen in a long time.  It’s great.

Okay.  Just kidding.  One more thing – in my sorrow and self-pity and sleepiness after such a crazy week – I bought this.  I just love colorful things in my kitchen and I think it will come in handy.  I’m already anticipating its glorious arrival early next week.

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