there's no place like gnome.

I mentioned before it’s strawberry festival week at Red Oak Grove.  The event is on Tuesday but things are already in full swing.  Today, following service, potatoes and eggs were cooked and peeled.  Celery was chopped with amazing precision, and manly men moved tables.  

This is my first strawberry festival so I’m not entirely sure what to expect or what my role is to be as pastor.  I had mentioned to a couple ladies that they should let me know what I can do.  I feel totally uncomfortable being a person at an event without a job.  I want something to do so I’m not standing awkwardly, waiting for people to talk with or whatnot.  The introvert in me needs a task – something to fall back on and keep my hands busy during conversation lulls.  I told them I was willing to do anything – just lead me to it and sign me up.  I’m game.  Just don’t tell me my job is to talk to people all night.  That would not be overly enjoyable.

Bake sale, I was told.  The baked goods are put on tables in the narthex and I could help Judy run that sale.  That way, they told me, I was still in the middle of the action and could still greet people.  [So, really, I didn’t completely escape the-pastor-as-hostess role but I got close.]  Great, I said.  Bake sale it is.

I chatted with a dear woman this morning over coffee.  I hear you’re looking for a job, she said.  I explained that I would be helping with the bake sale so I was set.  We’ve never really had to think about giving the pastor a job, she said.  They’ve always been men but of course you can help.

She meant well and nothing she said was directly insulting really.  She was just fine with me helping.  But the only reason I can help is because I’m a woman?  Or pastor-men always just assume that their role is play host and woo the crowd?  Or shame on us – our pastor is a woman now; we should include her in the womanly tasks?  I’m not quite sure but the comment shook me bit nonetheless.  

This is on the shirttails of another conversation with a younger woman in the congregation who was told last year that she couldn’t scoop ice cream in the kitchen because it was a man’s job.  Props to her for sticking with it.  She said her arm hurt the next day but she did it.  [whipping-face-mask-off-in-the-final-scenes-of-Return-of-the-King: I am no man!]

What year is it again?

Two thumbs up for bed and breakfasts.

When I left the MacArthur Inn on Thursday morning, Max and Sherry, the delightful owners, walked me to the door.  They thanked me for my stay and I thanked them for showing me the greatness of b&bs.  It was quaint, convenient, and just plain different than a hotel.  Two thumbs up.

It was breakfast on Thursday morning that really convinced me of the greatness.  While there were only five of us for breakfast on Wednesday morning, the next morning the table was full with eight guests.  Next to me was a gentleman with an accent.  Alex from Switzerland.  We had small talk as a table during the meal [blueberry strata] and then Alex and I began talking as others wondered off to their day adventures.  We sat and chatted for close to an hour about how we had come to Grand Marias, about driving to Alaska [he wanted to and his friends in Europe told him he was crazy.], and what we do for a living.  He works at a hostel and does city tours of Zurich.  Twelve years ago, at 21, he came over on a temporary work visa to work the summer months as a housekeeper and dishwasher, and so the town of Grand Marais is close to his heart [he said as he tapped his chest].  [The tourism of the town depends on European help, much like the WI Dells, I suppose.]  I told him I was a pastor [and you know how Europeans are about church…] and he said, “Not to be ignorant or rude, but what do you do all week?”  A super fun chat that – chances are – would never have happened at a hotel.

On another note, I think I’m on a kayaking high.  I think that happens when you conquer a certain fear successfully.  And I think I just really liked the experience and am totally psyched to go again sometime soon.  [But maybe in a recreational kayak as opposed to a sea kayak.  And maybe somewhere a bit calmer water-wise.]  I kinda feel like this kid – I can do anything now.  [If you haven’t already seen the video, you must watch it.  Must.  It’s an oldie but a goodie.]

Traveling alone isn’t all fun and games. 

There is no one to share in the inside jokes. 

No one to whom I can complain. 

No one to laugh with or with whom to people watch.

Congratulations. You have just become that person. I am now going to tell you everything I couldn’t tell anyone when it happened.

You know how that one husband who is staying at the B&B looks like the gay guy Cher kinda sorta dates in Clueless? Totally.  They kinda laugh the same too.

How funny was it when that couple at the restaurant last night sat on the same side of a table? [A table designed to have one person on each of its four sides.]  It apparently was their anniversary and the wife kept asking, “Did you move your chair closer, honey? Did you move your chair closer?” Lay off, woman, and eat your vegan dinner. You don’t need to be sitting on top of your husband right now. “Did you move your chair closer? Did you?”

Do you think Phil-the-kayak-guide is single? Also, what do you think it would feel like to run your hands through his curly red hair? (Answer: amazing.)

And that woman on the kayak trip who apparently knew everything? Gross.

< Was it just me or would you also want to run inside and yell to the people behind the counter at this donut place, “You did it! You finally did it!” like on the movie Elf?  World’s best donuts?!  Congratulations!  

Do I really have cause to currently dislike my job or do I simply have too high of expectations? Maybe it’s not the job that has to change; maybe it’s me.  [shoot.]

I don’t want to go home tomorrow.  Please don’t make me.  One more night would be perfect.

>The server I had for dinner at The Angry Trout restaurant was named Lenna. Of course she was.  I wonder where Ole was.  All I know is that she didn’t charge me for my glass of wine because she kinda forgot about me for fifteen minutes.  I’ll take it; it wasn’t like I was just sitting there doing nothing.  I was reading my book on introverts by myself like most crazy people would be doing.

No, Stone Harbor Outfitters, I will not rent one of those stand-up paddle boards to try on Lake Superior.  You crazy.  But I will buy a set of playing cards called Don’t Die Out There to give to my brother, Ben.  Each card has a survival tip on it; not that he needs it.  He just got back for a bear hunting trip about which he sent an email.  He called it “exciting” and is apparently getting a bear rug out of the kill.  Huh.

Bright yellow Keen sandals were a very wise investment.

It’s one week away and I’m beyond psyched.  [obviously.  I can’t stop talking about it.]

It will be a lot of driving but glorious time away.  

Oh, beautiful day.

Vacation will start with a wedding on Friday in the Cities.  Seminary friend, Frank, is marrying his Kate.  And I’m bringing the cakepops.  [They hired me to make 300.  Yum yum.]

I’ll stay a night with BFF Sara in her new home [which she shares with a boy.  eww.  gross.  boys.] and then drive to Dawson the next day for graduation festivities.  And maybe a Sunday of worship at Grace?  [I hate to be that person … but any Dawson friends have a couch I could crash on Saturday night?  My usual couch-to-crash-on is at the house of one of said graduation parties.  Needless to say, they will be otherwise engaged and busy.  Any suggestions?]

From Dawson, I may swing down to Sioux Falls to visit my college roommate and her husband for a night or two.  It’s been a long while since I’ve played with Joe and Amanda!  

I’ll return to the parsonage for a night to unpack and repack for the second leg of the adventure.  I’m buying a state park pass and hopping my way north to Grand Marais, where I have a two night reservation at a bed and breakfast.  I’ve never been north of Duluth and it’s been over 10 years since I was even that far north.  I’m excited to see lighthouses, hike, read, and relax.  And most of all –

I’m excited to kayak.  To go kayaking is a long time dream of mine.  I’ve never been and I just know I will love it.  I love a good canoe trip and I have a feeling kayaking will be just as wonderful.  I have signed up for a guided kayak tour out and about on Lake Superior and I’m so thrilled at the thought.

You might wonder, Are you going by yourself?  Yes.  I recently came to the realization that if I keep waiting for someone to have these adventures with, I may never do it.  My friends are busy.  My friends have other friends.  Some of my friends don’t even have the same interests.  And so I go by myself.  I learned from my Alaskan adventure last summer that traveling along isn’t so horrid.  It even has some perks.  I don’t mind being alone.  [which sounds really sad.  but it’s okay.  really.  well, most days anyways.]

Once upon a time, there was a billboard.  This billboard was the route of a major highway in south eastern Minnesota.  Pastor Lindsay passed the billboard today.  On one side of the board it said Heaven.  On the other side it said Hell.  There was an OR between the two words.  Heaven or Hell.  Below that was a phone number: [random three numbers] – FOR – TRUTH.  Then there was, in the corner, John 3:36.  Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life, but whoever rejects the Son will not see life, for God’s wrath remains on them.

Things like this make Pastor Lindsay’s skin crawl.  Things like this tend to be the version of Christianity most people know.  Heaven or hell.  Black and white.  Absolute.  Right and wrong.  Call them for the truth because obviously they have it and you don’t.  [This isn’t even addressing the ignorance and intolerance and everything else for which Christianity gets press.  Gross.]

The Lutheran in me twitches.  The liberal in me screams.  For a long time, I would have really questioned myself in regards to my immediate reactions.  Could I confidently say what I believed?  Are my liberal Lutheran beliefs off and crazy?  Will people tell me I’m wrong for being a universalist [belief in salvation for all] and thinking this billboard is off its rocker?  

When I was on the first call theological retreat a couple weeks ago, I heard a seasoned pastor – one that I greatly respect – engage in a discussion about something or other with another.  At one point, he said this: “If there isn’t universalism, I’m not sure I want anything to do with it.”

Phew.  My own beliefs affirmed by another.  [Unfortunately, I need that affirmation for confidence sake.]  I can be a universalist and be okay.  [But don’t tell ROG.  I’m not sure they’re ready for their liberal pastor to come out of the box.]  I can scorn this billboard for being so certain, and I can believe that God’s love is bigger than they [and I] know.  I can say that I don’t have all the answers and that’s okay.  No one does – especially those who claim they do.

Okay.  I don’t know if I made any sense at all.  It’s probably scrambled and odd.  But I’m done now.

Promoting Self-Esteem in our Daughters – D. Lose

Amen, D. Lose.  Amen.  

The nail hath been hitteth on the head.  I often have these thoughts and these fears and the need to help young gals [and guys] in my ministry feel loved and valued … but I couldn’t have said it any better than awesome D. Lose.  

[David Lose is a beloved Norwegian-sweater-wearing preaching professor at Luther Seminary and a constant help to me on my sermons via workingpreacher.org.  You can sign up for daily devotions from him delivered to your email on his … in the Meantime site, linked above.]

It’s not that I’m tired.  I just made a lovely dinner and now have strawberry and rhubarb simmering on the stove.  I worked outside and had a baptism at the church earlier.  I want to start a quilt; the fabrics are all ironed and laying on the ironing board.  [a baby quilt, a la this pattern.]  There is stuff to do and I would love to do it.

But instead I’m stuck.  I’ve tried and thought about it all weekend; now it’s crunch time.  A sermon must be in presentable working order in 14 hours.  I’ve started but I cannot get myself to continue.  Creative energy at an all time low.  I see facebook statuses of friends with awesome sermon titles and ways to draw people in.  I have none of that.  I can’t keep doing this.  I loathe Saturday nights of working, especially knowing that the next morning will be an early and stressful one.

blah, blah, blah.  complain, complain, complain.

I’ll stop now.

I just need to survive the next one and a half weeks.  One and a half weeks until I’m on vacation for a week.  One and a half weeks until I will jump in my car, visit friends, relax, and have a Sunday off.  I will read and kayak and sleep.  I hope it rejuvenates me.  It has to … right?

I woke up at 12:30 am after having gone to bed just after 11.  This never happens to me.  If there is one thing I’m a rock star at, it’s a good night of sleep.  I was super cold so I put on socks and a long sleeve tshirt.  I went back to bed.  Still freezing.  I prance downstairs to investigate turning on the furnace.  The thermostat says that it is 68 degrees.  I normally sleep at 65 so this should not be a problem.  I grab another quilt and back to bed I go, shivering the whole way.

I thought maybe I was getting sick.  [I also sneezed appox. 8 times this morning.]  And maybe that is part of it.  But part of it quite honestly may have been the sermon I was going to preach this morning.

I talked about gay marriage in my sermon.

gasp.  How could I not?  It was in the news all over the place this week.  Obama.  North Carolina.  Last weekend was our synod’s assembly, at which they voted to oppose the upcoming marriage amendment here in Minnesota.  I talked a lot about it with my staff.  [jD and I now hold weekly staff meetings.]  He’s in fact the one who really brought it to my attention and I think he is totally right.  [Right?]

But it still made me incredibly nervous.  And terrified.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  I did not tell people what was right or what was wrong.  I tried not to even disclose my own views.  I tried to honor the gospel text in light of what is going on in our world.  That’s something we do every time we read scripture.  

So we talked about friendship.  And loving one another as Jesus commands us.  And how we can honor those gospel topics even when we disagree.  Even when we are scared.  How to be in community with each other.  Oh, how I pray the Holy Spirit used my words for good.

I do really feel like it should be addressed.  At ROG, to my knowledge, the congregation has had zero conversation about gay marriage.  To a point, that can’t be healthy either.  So I did it.  And I’m still terrified that I somehow planted seeds that will result in my removal.  [I exaggerate.]  I think I also want everyone to love me all the time; this might have ruined that with a few people.  But, truth be told, in a leadership position, if I don’t piss people off once in a while, I’m treading too lightly.  Mostly, I heard good feedback.  People acknowledged that it was a hard topic to address, and many thanked me for doing so.  

There was, though, that one gentleman who shook my hand and told me, “Read the Bible.  It’s all in the Bible.”

Interesting.  I’m pretty sure that’s what I did.  

“My commandment is this: Love one another as I have loved you.” [John 15]

Cleo the compost bin.

He’s come to live in my yard and decompose banana peels.

I had a startling revelation a couple weeks ago about how much I throw in my garbage that doesn’t need to be garbage.  Fruit peels.  Broccoli stems.  That half a bag of spinach that inevitably gets pushed to the back of the produce drawer.  Egg shells.  Coffee grounds.  [Plus seventy more things listed here.]  No need for all those things to go in a dumpster and take up space elsewhere when I can feed it to Cleo and have him go to work.  [Plus people tell me of the glorious soil that will be Cleo’s creation.  My thus far fictitious garden will be happy.]

I was beyond excited about this venture until my bubble was burst.  I learned that snakes like to live in such compost bins.  

I don’t do snakes.

I’m now about 56% beyond excited, 40% anxiety regarding possible snake presence, and 4% terrified to ever open the compost bid lid.

This will be more of a growing experience than I ever imagined.