dear insecure self,

8 Sep
I’m trying to not let you ruin my evening but you’ve made a strong appearance tonight.
I’m trying to remind myself that I’m just coming off of a great retreat.  Really great.  The kids had fun and I hope learned at least one thing about the Bible.  We had a campfire and went hiking and stayed up too late and ate camp food.  It was fun.  jD and I plan awesome retreats.  [Did I tell you that?  jD and I planned together and forced our confirmation kids to make new friends with each other.  They like it.]  You probably want to return to your adolescence just to go on one, right?  
But now that I’m home, I’m questioning everything I did.  Was I enough fun?  Did I lead that one thing right?  Was I too snarky with that one kid that I’m always snarky with?  Did I get a little crabby without any Lindsay-reflection-time for 24 hours?  Do my confirmation kids now wish they had much cooler Pastor jD as their teacher instead of me?  Was I too square?  [Probably because at one point I said, Paths are here for a reason!]  Insecure self, you make me question the awesomeness of the retreat and I loathe you for it.  
Now I have a sermon to write for tomorrow because, of course, I wasn’t able to get it done before I left for the retreat because it was crazy with everything else.  A friend sent me hers to read to see if it would spar any ideas of my own.  What do I do when I read someone else’s sermon?  Realize that mine will never be as insightful, engaging, or competently written.  I should just preach hers [she gave me permission] but I feel like that would be cheating.  AND then I fear everyone in my congregation would love it more than they’ve ever loved a sermon of mine before.  Insecure self, you suck.
There is more but I should probably stop spilling every insecure thought in my soul.  Enough for tonight.
I must now plagiarize Paige’s sermon for tomorrow morning.
You win for now, insecure self, but this isn’t over.
7 Sep
Look at me, not writing on this blog again.  
I know I say it all the time but life is crazy.  
I hope to be back soon.  In the meantime, off to an overnight confirmation retreat!

overjoyed.

1 Sep
This video seems appropriate to post on the day of two weddings for this pastor.  And, really, Matchbox Twenty, is always the right decision.  How can you not listen to this song over and over?

my next screen play.

31 Aug
[and by next I mean first.]
I just spent an hour dropping off bulk mail at the Austin Post Office.  The LOG [our monthly newsletter at ROG – get it?] is en route to members thirsty for the latest word from this church.  [or maybe it’s their recycling bin that is hungry for it.  whichever.]  Anyways, Marilyn usually drops this off.  She’s the one who weighs it, fills out the appropriate paperwork, and makes sure when it is dropped off that it keeps the lovely USPS clerks happy.  This time the cookie crumbled and it was my job to deliver.  I got a sneak peak at the world that is church administrative assistants.
Behind me in line was another church dropping off their monthly newsletter.  I spent a fair bit of time at the counter this time around because the weight on the group of 10 newsletters was off by .009.  Off by too much apparently.  The clerk who was helping me had to go ask someone else a question, and then she had to reweigh, and then she had to explain to me how to fill out new paperwork with the appropriate weight, all the while this administrative assistant behind me waited for another clerk.
Another clerk appeared and the admin assistant behind me went to her with the boxes of newsletters in her hands.  She kinda giggled, looked at me, and said, More of the same thing, in a sing-songy voice.  But her weight on the group of 10 was correct.  No further questions, no reweighing.  She was in.  And then she sneered at me with a mix of pity and a mix of superiority as she left the counter, arriving after me and leaving before me.  What a smug church basement lady.
Okay.  No, she didn’t really sneer but what a movie screen play it could be if she did!  The entire drive home I wondered what the secret lives of church administrative assistants is like.  Competitiveness at the post office counter over bulk mail, bragging rights over who could fold bulletins the fastest, and who also played the organ.  I imagine the movie would be a lot like Drop, Dead Gorgeous but with less murder and more lipstick stains on coffee cups.  

slipcovered.

30 Aug
There is likely little guesswork involved to realize that I’m poor.  Student loans helped get me through school but they are no fun to pay back on a beginning pastor’s salary.  That being said – I take all the free furniture I can get.
Like this ottoman from my mom’s house.  She asked me if I wanted it over the phone and I think I said, nah.  It was kind of ugly.  But then I remembered I was poor and live in a huge house with only enough furniture to make 1/3 of it livable.  Okay.  Sure.  I’ll make a slipcover for it.
I bought the fabric ages ago and had it draped over the ottoman for months.  The task of actually sewing a slipcover scared me.  I don’t sew three-dimensional things like that.  I sew quilts.  They’re flat. A slipcover?  I didn’t quite know how to tackle it.
I knew I wanted something simple and something that would only take a night to complete.  Thank you, design*sponge, for this tutorial.  Slipcover done in a matter of a couple hours and it looks so much better than the maroon furry-ness of before.  It does the job and I think does it well.  

new hobby.

27 Aug
I stumbled across this blog tonight – Lindsay Letters.  
First, her name is Lindsay.  [duh.  awesome.]
Second, she loves pretty writing and paper and addressing envelopes.  [me too!]
Third, that’s her job.  People pay her to address envelopes.  [this lindsay jealous.]
ohmygoodness.  I love her.  I want to be her.  [her husband is a gorgeous red head too.  of course.]
Many, many years ago, I had a calligraphy book and pen.  I’ve always loved writing and letters and penmanship and I remember trying to learn the art of calligraphy.  I also remember giving up.
Watch me try again.  I’m so inspired by her writing this may just become a winter hobby for me, learning calligraphy with nibs and inks and pretty papers.  
Then I can address your Christmas cards.

that’s so sad.

26 Aug
At the wedding reception last night, I was one of the first guests into the room where we would be dining and wanted to find a seat that was out of the way but also easily accessible to stand up and pray before the meal.  I chose a seat at a table that had no one else at it yet and sat down.  
A group of people approached and asked if they could join me.  Of course, I said.  It was two older women [sisters] and two teenagers [daughters of one of the women]; I didn’t know them at all.
One of the teenagers:  Are you here by yourself?
Me: Yes.
Teenager: (with pity)  Awww!  That’s so sad!

———————
Yes.  Thank you.

wedding season.

25 Aug
One wedding this weekend.  Two next weekend.
uffda.
The one this weekend is one I’ve actually been excited about.  Let’s just say this to start – weddings are hard for me as a pastor.  Weddings are often events where I know only the couple getting married and maybe a handful of others.  Weddings require me to spend time with a whole bunch of people I don’t know and that is exhausting for me.  Weddings are another sermon for the week and are all so different from each other that each is its own entity requiring thought and planning and time.
This weekend’s wedding is for a couple with whom I would love to be friends.  They are beyond kind and friendly.  They were the first people at Red Oak Grove to have me over for dinner, which happened when I visited their house regarding their daughter’s baptism.  The groom is also part of a family that I know.  His cousin is in my confirmation class.  Through being a part of his great-uncle’s funeral a couple months ago, I was able to meet a lot of the family.  It was comforting to know that I would show up at the farm and have familiar faces.  In fact, this was the first wedding at ROG where I was a.) invited and b.) went to the rehearsal dinner.  And it was fun!  I sat at the kids’ table with Marnie, the confirmation student, and the other kiddos in the wedding.  One of them, a six year old boy, cracked me up beyond belief.  It was great entertainment for the evening.
And then there is the farm.  That’s the other part of this wedding that excited me.  The ceremony was to take place at the bride’s family farm.  I like that say that it was my wedding.  Only I attended as officiant.  Hay bales, mason jars, on the family farm.  Pretty sure I blogged about this way back when.  I was excited to see how this picture perfect wedding played out. 
Let’s just say it rained.  We held out as long as we could and it looked like we had a window of clearing.  The bridal party lined up and we started the ceremony.  Halfway through the declaration of intention, the sky opened up and it started to pour again.  Vows, rings, kiss, done.  [A little bummed that the wedding homily I worked on for a few hours will never be preached but so the cookie crumbles and the rain falls.]  Everyone was soaked by the end of it, even with umbrellas throughout the crowd and wedding party.  
The couple was so great about it though.  I think some brides and grooms would turn sour at such a unwelcome shower of rain but they practically laughed through the whole thing and were so great about it.  It’s one not to be forgotten.  I’m home briefly now to throw my clothes in the dryer before heading off again to the dinner portion of the celebration.  Luckily, that is slated to be inside at a ballroom.  Mmm, cake.

new sunglasses.

25 Aug
I know I’ve written before about constantly worrying of how I am perceived by the people around me, feeling judged, and the negative self-talk that goes on in my head.
No more.
I don’t think I realized the extent all of those factors had on my life until recently.  Some of those factors are cultural, some of it is shame, some of it is part of my created being.  But I’m trying something new.  No more worrying about what other people think of me; they can think what they want and that’s up to them.  No more paralyzing fear surrounding the constant black cloud of feeling judged by others when I open my mouth or walk into a room.  No more saying mean things about myself to myself, or thinking that I’m not enough as I am.
Well, it’s not that easy … but I’m working on it.  
I remind myself each day that people can think what they want.  I remind myself that fear of judgement should not hold me back.  I remind myself that I am enough.
Exercise #23 in operation-no-more-making-myself-feel-shitty-about-myself: Buying and wearing this pair of sunglasses.
They are obviously sold with an adolescent age group in mind.  They are likely not something a 28-going-on-29 year old pastor would or should wear.  They make me look ridiculous.  Sometimes, when I’m well aware of what is on my face and I’m meeting someone new, I freak a little bit and feel like I should take them off to somehow make myself more proper.
But f*ck that.  I like polka dots, they’re crazy awesome in my book, and they keep me from squinting.  
Think what you want; I’m going to keep wearing them.
boom.

soap opera drama: part two.

21 Aug
Last week I freaked out on you.  In what has become the third most frequently viewed post on this blog, I lashed out in anger at the disappearance of my current go-to show from the list of streaming shows through my roku.   [what determines a popular post on this blog I will never know – that particular one was about a tv show and anger at netflix.  really?]  In McLeod’s Daughters‘ absence, something magical happened, proving that even in the most dire of situations, there can be good.  
A curse came over me and, in moments of weakness, addiction, and extremely late nights, I consumed the entire first season of Once Upon A Time on hulu in a week.
Have you seen it?  Its first season aired last year on ABC, to return again this fall.  I was drawn into the magic, the story, the fairy tale, and my new fashion idol.
In fashion sense, I want to be Snow White as she is in Storybrooke.  Mary Margaret is her name.  I love her skirts, her coats, and her cardigans.  And her hair.  Her hair.  I want my hair to do what her hair does.  My television fashion idol used to be Lorelai Gilmore and I do fear she has been replaced.  Lorelai, you did not receive a rose; please say your goodbyes.
Now that I’m finished with the first season of Once Upon A Time, do you worry I will return to my angry self at the loss of my Australian soap?  Do you fear another snappy post or continued depression at my lack of the drama on the sheep farms in my life?  Do you have concern for my general well being and the emphasis I put on television shows in my life?
Don’t.  Because I looked again and McLeod’s Daughters is back streaming on Netflix.  Perhaps they heard my cries and decided to do something about it.  Perhaps they were enraged to know that 59 people read my blog post against them.  Or maybe it was just temporarily unavailable on that one day when I freaked out.
Whatever the case, I thank you, Netflix.  If you had not momentarily been reconfiguring your catalog of television shows, I may not have stumbled upon Once Upon A Time and Mary Margaret’s hair.  
Oh, the hair.
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