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Stolen families.

21 Jan
Once a month, the pastors in our conference of the ELCA gather to check-in, worship, and hear some sort of presentation before eating lunch together.  Our presentation today was by Paul Hill, one of the brains behind the former Youth and Family Institute, now called Vibrant Faith Ministries.  A great presentation about the role parents and home play in the faith of a child and what the church can be for youth.  And for lunch was a variety of hotdishes; tator-tot hotdish with corn and a burnt layer on the bottom included.  I probably sound ungrateful – not trying to be – but just find it funny how it is such a classic church dish.  Anyways –
Lori pointed out this picture to me, hanging on the wall of the small country church we were at about 20 miles from Dawson:
An illustrated, old-time Lord’s prayer.  Cool beans.  Now check out the dedication plate —
There were many Stolens in this area years ago … I don’t think so much anymore.  When I first arrived, many people asked me if I was related.  I’m thinking not … but it’s still intriguing to have the connection.  But just because the last name is familiar to people in Dawson doesn’t mean they still don’t make fun of me for it.  One congregation member tells me that he thinks it would be a great idea to open an auto parts store — Stolen Auto Parts.
har har.

Haiti.

17 Jan
Honestly, I didn’t pay a whole lot of attention until Thursday.  I heard what had happened and may have even turned on the news Wednesday morning as I prepared to go into work.  I listened to conversations about the devastation and the tragedy but I was void of much emotion.  I had no idea.
Wednesday evening it started to haunt me little by little.  The stewardship board at Grace (the last in a string of many, many meetings for me that evening) moved to create a new line item in the budget, so people could give to Lutheran Disaster Response through the church.  (Or something – budgets are still beyond me.  There should be an accounting class at seminary.  Seriously.  I would take it.)  Rumors were also circulating on facebook and amongst friends that a college classmate of mine was in Haiti at the time of the quake and unaccounted for; his cousin and wife who were there with him hadn’t been able to find him.  Prayed.
Thursday I went skiing and focused my energy on not falling down; I don’t think I thought about what was going on outside the ski hill once.  I arrived home and the floods of emails and information regarding Ben Larson‘s death began.  A prayer service was being organized in Minneapolis the next night.  I didn’t even really know Ben – I would not call him a close friend – but suddenly the devastation and tragedy had a face, a face I knew.  At Luther, pretty much everyone knows everybody.  Ben and I were involved in college ministry activities together and had religion classes together.  I didn’t know much about him but his music leadership at FOCUS worship each Sunday evening and the fact that, really, if anyone was ever called to be a pastor, it was him.  
I didn’t know if I should go to Minneapolis.  Could I afford the three hours to get there and the three hours in the car coming home when I had a sermon to write for Sunday?  Maybe a responsible person wouldn’t have gone but I was in the car by 8:30 Friday morning, heading to the cities and I’m glad I did.  It was wonderful to gather as a Luther community and a greater community, to sing, to pray, and to lament together.  Though not under wonderful circumstances, it was great to see a few Luther people that I haven’t seen for a long while, including my roommate from freshman year.  It was where I needed to be.
Keep reading onto the next post for the sermon that flowed through my fingers when I arrived back to Dawson on Saturday afternoon.  I received many positive comments regarding it after service.  I actually made people cry!  (I consider this a small sort of accomplishment.  Not that I want to make them cry but it’s a validation that my words meant something and that the Holy Spirit used them.)  I managed to make it through both services without crying myself, though there were moments where it was difficult.
After attending the service on Friday and preaching this morning, I feel filled with passion to do something about this.  If you haven’t yet, I encourage you to donate financially to the Red Cross or Lutheran Disaster Response.  Right now, financial aid to Haiti is a lot of what we can do but in the months and years ahead, there will be so much more.  I also hope to start a drive to collect items for Lutheran World Relief health kits at Grace.  Build your own kits or send some band-aids or washcloths my way to add to the piles that will hopefully grow here at Grace!

badges of honor.

14 Jan
I went downhill skiing for the first time today with the fourth, fifth, and sixth graders of Dawson-Boyd. Kendall invited me; he went along with his fourth grade daughter. He suggested that it might be a fun activity and, since I had never skied before, it would be a good opportunity to learn before the Grace church ski outing. I went back and forth – I wanted to go but yet, I didn’t. Not being athletically inclined, I was worried that I would make a complete and utter fool out of myself while by myself, that I would have no friends by my side to laugh along with me when I fell down or tripped on my own feet. And it’s true – my worries were a very accurate foreshadowing of my day.
Because I had never skied before, I took a lesson. When taking the lesson, I discovered that I cannot stand back up once I’ve fallen down. Some people could without removing skis; I was not one of these privileged few. In order for me to stand back up once falling down, I had to release one of my boots from the skis. I also learned that I was not so great at forming the “snowplow” position with my skis and stopping. For the first hour or so of my time on the bunny hill, I stopped by falling over. It’s the best I could do to not run into people. But then, because I can’t stand right back up, undo the ski, stand up, reattach, etc. Ugg.
Thus began my two hour stint on the bunny hill. The fourth graders and I grabbed onto the tow rope which pulled us to the top of the “hill” and then we skied in and out of cones, practicing our turning, leaning forward, and stopping. Occasionally, the fourth graders and I would exchange tips. The conversations would go something like this:
Lindsay: How’s it going?
Fourth grader: Okay.
Lindsay: This is really hard, isn’t it?
Fourth grader: Yeah.
Lindsay: I have trouble stopping.
Fourth grader: Yeah.
Lindsay: I fall over a lot!
Fourth grader: (insert advice here)
Lindsay: Okay, thanks!
Typically, a while after this conversation would take place, the fourth grader would then smile at me, show me the smiley face on their lift ticket (which meant they could move on to the bigger hills), and say, “I’m going to ski with my friends now!” all sorts of excited. Then I would grab the tow rope again and hang on until the top of the bunny hill. I was not good. I had no smiley face. I had no friends to laugh along with me.
But the story does not end there – I did get a smiley face! I moved onto the bigger hill! I still rode the chair lift by myself and subsequently fell down when I got off of it, but I had moved on. When people asked me how today went, I tell them that I am a better skier today than I was yesterday. (… which really says a whole lot of nothing for my ski skills but it’s true!)
I have two badges of honor and accomplishment to prove that I did indeed go skiing – my lift ticket tag (with smiley face) and the bruise that is gradually taking over my left calf muscle. I think my boot was a bit too tight and it’s not going to be pretty. We go skiing as a church in February and while I’ve had my lesson and learned to stop without always falling over, I think I may opt for cross-country skiing next month.

So. It’s been cold here –

5 Jan

trust/hope/love prevail

3 Jan

In the darkest places, you discover you are real to yourself and one another. And if you’re not called – mercifully – to such places, you will need disciplines of thinking and imagination to keep yourself real: to fight off easy answers, false gods, stifling systems. Prayer is one such discipline, essential and focal for people of faith; but there are others. We can still choose honesty or dishonesty. We can still choose what Chesterton called the ‘easy speeches that comfort cruel men’; or we can choose to face how vulnerable we all are and how much we need to fight against our fear of one other if trust and hope and love are to prevail when all is done. The challenge is how we stay awake to how the world is – and to how it can yet be changed.  (Rowan Williams)

the crazies.

27 Dec
I have the crazies. I’m going a bit insane, being snowed into my tiny apartment alone. I was stuck here on Christmas day and the day following. I tried to entertain myself, to keep busy, and to maintain sanity for as long as I could. I cleaned. I quilted. I talked on the phone. I watched (a lot of) Friends. Lord of the Rings. I did laundry. And it was okay. On Friday and Saturday, things were okay. I didn’t go crazy.
But now it’s Sunday and I’m stuck here again. The crazies have attacked me.
I got out for church. We only had one service this morning and it was all me. Pastor Kendall is on vacation so I did it all. Sermon. Liturgy. Announcements. I did everything but turn my microphone on properly. Opps. Luckily a few members ran back to the sound board to make sure things were working so only the announcements were missed. The church service went well and then I stuck around with coffee and congregation members for an hour.
But now I’m back at my apartment. I glimpsed the outside world but now I’ve returned to my shell and I can’t handle it.
I was going to drive to Watertown, SD to meet up with a friend and visit the glories that are Starbucks and Target but the roads don’t advise such travel. So close to getting out and yet, it’s a no go. I could drive 20 minutes to the next larger town, Montevideo, but the only thing I could do there is walk around Walmart and I’m just not sure that is appealing either.
Here I am. I will survive but as I told my mom when I called her, I just needed to complain a bit first.
26 Dec

snow crazy.

26 Dec

(Above: Bicycles outside of my apartment building on Thursday morning.) Beginning on Wednesday, western Minnesota has had constant snow falling from the sky and it has yet to really stop. Add a little wind and the blizzard conditions begin.
We were one of the few churches who held services on Christmas Eve. We had two services, 4pm and 6pm. It was a delightful service with lots of special music, readings, and candle lighting. I was involved in much of the service but my main part was doing the children’s sermon. I called the kids forward and we talked about Jesus being our flashlight. It was fun.
After services, I went to the Stelter’s home (my supervisor and his family) for dinner, gift opening, and a fun game of CatchPhrase. We had meatballs and potatoes, wine and coffee, gifts and games. It was a lot of fun. I wasn’t able to be with my own family but I was thankful to be with another family and a bunch of church ladies. The four older women from church who were there stuck around until midnight, through a long game of CatchPhrase. Hilarious.
I made it back to my apartment after midnight but barely through the snow drifts – I nearly got stuck at one point. Further proof that the next time I’m in a bigger city, I must buy a snow shovel to carry in my trunk. Because the snow was still falling and the wind was blowing, we cancelled our Christmas day service at Grace. My Christmas day plans were also put on hold due to the snow and thus I stayed in my pajamas all day long, watched a lot of Friends, and quilted.
Bicycles on Saturday afternoon
Today, Saturday, was another day in my pajamas, sticking to my apartment as it continued to snow and blow outside. Estimations would lead me to guess that we’ve had over 15 inches fall in the last three days, if not a few more. The old man with no teeth who probably shouldn’t still be driving but parks his maroon van next to my Corolla at the apartment building told me that we have gotten over thirty inches; we only talk when we both happen to be at our vehicles at the same time. I don’t even know his name so whether or not he is a reliable source is still questionable …

Smiling’s my favorite.

5 Dec
My tree has been up for a week and finally tonight the ornaments were hung.  I turned on the movie Elf – my favorite Christmas movie – and hung ornaments as he traveled through the seven levels of the candy cane forest, past the sea of swirly, twirly gumdrops, and then walked through the Lincoln Tunnel.  
I brought with me from home many of my favorite ornaments including my cinnamon bear collection and this one.  This ornament is one of my favorites because it was given to me from my parents in 1985.  The description on the box, in my mother’s handwriting, says “Because Ben wasn’t a Katie.”  Apparently he would have been.  If he were a girl.  He wasn’t and thus, as it is a baby girl, the ornament became my gift for the year.  
Putting up a tree of my own is fun – it’s the first year I have done it – but it’s also not so fun.  This is the first year I have put up a tree by myself and the first time there is a tree with only my ornaments on it; there is no competing for branch space with my brothers’ tractors and lunch boxes.  I also realized tonight as I was putting on the ornaments that I won’t be able to share my tree; I am expecting no visitors this month while the tree will be in place.  I will be the only one who technically sees it.  
Though that’s where you come in … here’s a picture of the final tree.  Crappy as the photo may be,  I am sharing it with you.  I hope you enjoy my tree. 
  

quote of the week

15 Nov
Keith, the custodian at church, is very much a grandpa-like figure. He’s great to chat with, always waves to me when he passes me while he drives school bus in the morning, but the conversations are never too in depth and rarely cross into a personal arena. And his wife, Gail, makes homemade donuts; I have been lucky enough to be the recipient of such delicacies and will be bringing them home next week to share.
Anyways, it’s Tuesday morning and Keith is strolling through the halls of the education wing, pulling his large garbage can behind him, emptying the garbage from the classrooms as he passes. He casually strolls past my office, pauses, and then asks me from the doorway, “So, found any boyfriends yet?” He laughs and then continues on his way as I stumble on my words and – I’m sure – turn red.
Boyfriends. Plural. I guess I have my work cut out for me if I’m to live up to Keith’s expectations for my social life. I’ll get started right away.
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