meet cleo.

12 May
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.

scones and signs.

10 May
Let me summarize confirmation last night.
Pastor Lindsay: Hey, guys.  I have some scones leftover from a meeting this morning if you want one.
Confirmands: scrunched noses  Scones?  What are scones?
Pastor Lindsay … Introducing international coffee treats and new sandwich shops to youth day by day.
We talked about the Psalms last night and I employed the confirmands to help me change the signboards at the church.  Pick a verse from a psalm, I told them.
Here is board number one:
Pastor Lindsay: You know how when you type in all capital letters, it’s like someone is yelling at you?  STEADFAST LOVE SURROUNDS THOSE WHO TRUST IN THE LORD!  I feel like the sign is yelling at us.
Confirmand: Pastor Lindsay, you know signs can’t talk, right?
We went to the second church sign.  And ran out of S’s.  Change of plans –

crazy decoupage lady.

9 May
First, let me set the scene.  
There have been many reminders lately that I am indeed a single lady.  Here’s one.  I was setting up an online account and you know how you have to answer at least three security questions?  What street did you live on when you were 10?  What was the name of your first grade teacher?  Those kind of things.  They give you question options and you have to choose one to answer.  For this particular account, I had a hard time answering a question in each slot because over half of them dealt with a spouse.  Where was your spouse born?  What is your spouse’s mother’s name?  That was half the questions and another quarter seemed to be names of elementary school teachers.  I’ll be honest – I don’t remember.  *ahem*  Sears, not all of the people who hold one of your credit cards are married.  Take note.  [And if they are gay and live in North Carolina, they don’t even have that option.  Boo to that.] Be inclusive please.
Last night, as I stayed up much later than usual, a friend texts me.  This friend will remain anonymous unless she decides to out herself in the comment section, but know that we were seminary colleagues and we both be single.  You should also know that other seminary friends were making glorious wonderful announcements yesterday on facebook about babies [plural].  [And despite the self-deprecation that follows, we really are happy for all of them – really!]  I think we are the only two people in the world who aren’t pregnant and married right now.  Ugh.  she texts.  
My response: Seriously.  Everyone else is married or pregnant for sure.  And I just sit here decoupaging a lampshade like a spinster.  
I wasn’t lying.  It was 10:30 at night and I sat on my couch with a foam brush, an old book, and a lampshade.  Suddenly, I had visions of the future.  I’m going to be the spinster who decoupages everything.  Lampshades, furniture, picture frames, boxes, cats.  You name it, I’ll decoupage it.  I’ll decoupage the shit out of it.  You think, oh, you can’t decoupage this, and I’ll take it as a challenge.  You wanna bet? I’ll say.  I’ll carry travel sized bottles of mod-podge on my person at all times and take stock in the business that makes those crappy one-time use foam brushes.  Decoupage will be my medium of expressing my suppressed spinster feelings.
I digress.  I think we all would agree that my new lampshade looks awesome compared to the cheap-o silver/gray fluted one that came with the set of lamps.  Crazy decoupage lady or not, I like it.

a day off.

8 May
It’s been more than a couple weeks since I’ve had a complete, full day off and I’ve been a bit bitter about it.  And so today, I did no work.  It was the most wonderful, extraordinary day ever.  I look forward to doing it again soon – that whole not working thing.
I reorganized my craft room and sewed a curtain.
I displayed many of the instagram prints I ordered a couple weeks ago.
I made a batch of iced coffee.
I made my bed – actually made my bed.  It’s been weeks.
I ate a delicious supper of salmon and roasted broccoli.
I updated the firmware on the router in the office. [say what! I surprised myself.]
I discovered how to get internet in my house.  [three cheers for that one.]
I bought a roku and it is changing my life as I type.
I’m about to make scones to take to text study tomorrow.
I ran errands in Austin.
I assembled individual jars of cold oatmeal with strawberries.
Seriously.  This day has changed my life.  Yesterday, just knowing I would have a free day put a spring in my step.  And then today … lovely.  Absolutely lovely.  Alas, back to work tomorrow but then I’m just three short weeks away from a week of vacation.  I might count the days.

crazy week.

8 May
You know I’ve been a bit busy this last week.  In between the sermons and the services, there were storms and sandwiches.  
My hammock tree feel down in a storm.  Now I have no where to hang my hammock.  When I say I’m devastated, I’m  toning my emotions down.
This is what a crazy week does to my desk. eeeeeek.
We had confirmation class outside and talked about the Psalms.
These are the kiddos that I’m going to New Orleans with in July and – wait for it – they. had. never. had. jimmy. johns.  gasp.  I introduced them.  You’re welcome, Red Oak Grove youth.  You’re welcome.

curve balls.

5 May
I was riding in the lead car to the cemetery for a funeral last week with my … erm … favorite funeral director.  [Favorite for a story I haven’t shared with you.  The last time we worked together on a funeral he violated my personal bubble by making the sign of the cross on my thigh while we rode to the cemetery.  I was disturbed.  Needless to say, the next time around I sat as close to the door and as far away from him as I could.  Now he just puts me on edge!]  This cemetery was a good fifteen minutes from the funeral home where the service had been.  [Even more time for him to invade my space.  But luckily he didn’t.]  We made small talk to and from.
So how are things going out at Red Oak Grove? he asked.
Well, there are getting to be fewer curve balls.
He laughed.  I think he thought I was kidding.  I’ll take laughing, as long as he’s not touching my leg.
As with any new job, there are curve balls!  Gradually, I’m getting through the firsts.  First Christmas.  First funeral.  First Easter.  First interactions with certain people.
But then with this week, I’m learning I’m still up to bat and there are curve balls a plenty.  
First wedding.  First wedding where there is little to no communication about anything.  First you’re-going-to-come-and-pray-at-the-reception-dinner-right? question the night of rehearsal even though I was never formally invited.  First funeral where a person involved wants to co-opt it from the preacher.  Figuring out air conditioning systems and audio systems.  Learning how to run a wedding rehearsal with fourteen attendants on either side.
I’m surviving.  I’m still alive.  But I’m sure ready for it to be Sunday evening.

dying well.

3 May
I don’t know entirely what that phrase even means.  The words get tossed around in seminary.  There are probably books on the subject.  Chaplains in care centers and with hospice probably would know best.
I think I caught a glimpse of it today when I visited a man who is dying this afternoon.  I’ve known his mom since I came to Red Oak Grove but this particular man, who lived with his mother until she went to the care center many months ago, never came to worship with her.  I got the impression he wasn’t much for church at his age in his early 60s.
He joined the congregation of Red Oak Grove this past February.  I was visiting his mom in the care center and he approached me.  “I would like to join the church.  I’m dying.”  This man was diagnosed with cancer six months ago and given three months to live.  
We’ve connected time and again at the care center over coffee with his mom.  I’ve made plans to visit but it seems those are always the days he is the weakest and not up for visitors.  Today, I finally made it to his brother’s house, in whose basement he will live until he dies.  This is a recent move when hospice joined the picture.  
If there is a way to die well, this man is doing it.  Without any prompting or leading questions on my part, he led me in this wonderful conversation.  Discussion of his wishes in regards to funeral and burial and his complete peace in this end of life.  We talked about faith and how church isn’t a building.  It’s not a front – he is truly seriously at peace with this all.  “I’m not scared,” he told me.
His three children – who he has not seen for many many years – just visited from England and Washington DC.  He discussed his plans with them and, as hard as it sounds, said goodbye.  The next time they come will be for his funeral [which he requests be at 1pm on a Saturday.  I’ll see what we can do, I said].
I’ll be honest – I dreaded the conversation going into it.  I really wasn’t sure how to talk this man I barely knew and who was dying.  It turns out I was nervous for no reason; he guided me through the conversation with the honesty and pacing of a man who is at peace with this fate of death.  A dreaded conversation turned into this holy, blessed conversation.  A gift, if you will.  A gift for tough, faithful discussion that didn’t feel pulled or prodded from a person who wasn’t interested in sharing.  It is likely one of the most honest conversations I’ve had as a pastor.  A gift for me and I hope a gift for him as well.
[We also talked about the perks of socialism, the perks of gatorade, and how none of his children are married because of their dedication and focus on their respective careers.  “It’s like you.  You’re focused on your career.”  Inside my head, I laughed.  If only my perpetual singleness was the result of my career focus.]

denial.

30 Apr
I’m in denial about my week and the work that needs to be done.
Denial is meeting up yesterday to see a movie with Paige and looking on amused as a man in a camouflage jacket awkwardly flirted with her in the lobby.  It’s watching The Five-Year Engagement and realizing that Jason Segel is becoming one of my favorites. 
Denial is baking cakes.  When in doubt, bake a cake, right?  I baked nine this weekend.  They all now reside in my freezer, crumbled in Ziploc bags.
Denial is dancing like a maniac and not caring who sees.  I learned the power of crazy dancing last year at seminary.  Now blaring the local pop station and going crazy in my living room is a favorite kind of stress release.
Denial is sleeping in until eight on Monday morning.
Denial is reading Andy Root’s work written for a college classmate’s Cancer & Theology blog series.  It’s good stuff.  [Andy = seminary advisor and professor of mine who taught me to see God present even in darkness and suffering.]
Denial is cleaning off my desk, writing thank you notes, and making a pre-marital counseling organizational chart instead of writing any one of the sermons I need to write.
Denial is facebook.  Denial is pinterest.  Denial is blogging right now instead of working.  
It can’t last forever.  Reality is about to get into a kicking and screaming and punching match with Denial and I know who will unfortunately win that fight.  But first I’m going to go eat lunch.

here’s my joy.

28 Apr
Knowing that this week the cards are stacked against me time-wise [easily a sixty-hour work week.  one to match the sixty from this past week.], I’m going to need a little joy in my life.  Knowing the emotions that will be involved, I’m really going to need a little joy.  Knowing how much my extroverted impostor will need to appear, I’m going to need lots of sleep too.  But in the brief times between work and sleep, herein lies my joy:

 Books scored at the Austin Public Library book sale.  These books – plus a few more – were only a total of $6.50.  You can’t even buy a book used on Amazon for that price when you add shipping to the shopping cart.  Who knows – I might not end up reading any of them this week, but simply looking at them brings me joy.  I love books.

My newest friend.  I love my treadmill.  I was super worried that because it has been so long since I’ve really been on one that it would be super hard and I would be disappointed at how little I could do.  Surprisingly enough, the couch-to-5k program hasn’t been putting me over the edge.  I can so do it!  And even though the program says not to do any more, I do.  I just love my treadmill too much.  [One of the things I love so much is that it’s in my house.  I don’t need to be concerned about how I look or my flailing arms.]
I have baby quilts dancing in my head.  I have one to be done in July and two for December.  [Twins!  I still can’t contain my excitement!]  I think I’m going scrappy for July.  I’m thinking small squares.  As for December, I’d love to know what the parents might like when that time comes.  🙂  [Sometimes I feel like I force a quilt on people.  But parents like quilts for babies, right?]
Project cakepop.  I started baking cakes today.  Cakes to be frozen, transformed into pops at a later date, and enjoyed at a wedding on June 1st!
While I know I’m going to be busy, I also know I need projects, and I’m in love with each one of those above.  I’m excited for the books to be read, jogs to be had, quilts to be made, and cakes to be baked.  That is my joy.

three funerals and a wedding.

28 Apr
If my current life were a movie, it would be titled much like Four Weddings and a Funeral.  Do you remember that one?  Hugh Grant and the movie in which the first dozen words are all curse words.  The movie in which there are four weddings and one funeral.  If it were my movie, it would be called Three Funerals and a Wedding.  By next Sunday at 4pm, all of those will have taken place. 
One funeral has already been.  A funeral for a four-day old baby.  I hate Marilyn, the admin assistant, for saying, “Your first one.  There will be more.” but I also know she’s right.  Seeing the baby in the tiny white casket, born months early and weighing under two pounds, was absolutely heartbreaking.  Absolutely.  I know the family has a long road ahead of them as the healing begins and my whole heart goes out to them.
The next day I was called to the hospital.  I walked into the room and this member, a member long knowing she would die soon, greeting me by saying, “I won’t be in church on Sunday.”  It was her sense of humor and if there is peace in any of it, it’s knowing that she was ready to die.  She’d said it many times.  She was ready and at 90 she had lived a great life.  They were making plans to put her on hospice and bring her home, but she died only a couple hours later.  She was ready.
The day after that I was called to the care center and sat with a couple as they watched their sister/sister-in-law struggle for breath.  This member, nearly 90, was the sweetest, tiniest little lady.  She died shortly after I left.
Thus my week is heavily loaded on the far end.  Funeral, wedding rehearsal [with three baptisms included], wedding, Sunday morning worship, a two-hour youth meeting, and funeral.  If you don’t hear from me, you know why.  But knowing how crazy and tired it will make me aside, it’s been quite the holy, emotional week.  I’ve been invited into places and spaces at the end of life.  I feel humbled that my call reaches those places and that I can comfort, pray, and deliver the news that death is not the end.  Holy places, indeed.
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