installation.

2 Oct
I was installed today.  Much like an appliance.  Or carpet and laminate flooring.
Installation – according to the congregation members who shook my hand following worship – means that I’m official now.  It’s real now.  I’m the pastor at Red Oak Grove.
Installation meant that Larry from the synod office came to preach and do the installation portion of the service.  It meant that the service was changed to 10am to better suit the dinner that followed.  It meant that I was extra nervous and that I was lucky to have visitors representing my happy places – Aunt Kari and Grandma Julie representing from Edgerton; Mark and Karen from Stillwater; C. and family from Dawson.  It was so wonderful to welcome guests to ROG and my home.  Mabel was quite excited to meet new friends too.
I received lots of “Congratulations!” [Is that what you say to a newly installed pastor?  No one really knows.]  “It’s official now!” was heard a lot.  Hugs and kisses on the hand from C. and his sister.  I got a “Congrats, kiddo!” [Kiddo?  Really?] and many “We’re glad you’re here!”  
I’m glad I’m here too.

mabel&i

2 Oct
I’m at Paige’s in Waseca as I type.  We ate burgers with avocado at The Boathouse and now I steal her internet as she watches The Amazing Race.  The show hasn’t started quite yet – 60 Minutes is doing a tribute to Andy Rooney.  He has very impressive eyebrows.  
I left my house to the whining and barking of Mabel.  As my Aunt Kari would put it, she has separation issues.  She does not like it when I leave.  She scratches at the door and then runs to the dining room window, puts her paws on the sill, and watches me walk away.  
It’s true.  When I’m home and in the house, she’ll follow me from room to room.  If she senses that I’ll be there for a while, she plops down on the floor.  Even when I cross from one side of the bedroom to the other, she’ll switch the side of the bed on which she plops depending upon where I am standing.  To the basement to do laundry and upstairs to brush my teeth she follows.
Needless to say, we’ve bonded.  I no longer question if I made a mistake and think we’ll get along swimmingly.  To the point where I have the tiniest degree of anxiety leaving her.  We tried to put her in a crate last night while Aunt Kari, Grandma Julie and I went out for dinner and to Target.  She was in when we left.  She was out when we returned.  Whelp.  As long as she continues to chew nothing, it will be okay that she’s not in there.  Just yipping and barking at the door when I leave.  *pulls on heart strings*

The Help.

1 Oct
Have you read or seen The Help?  It was my early summer book and just a few weeks ago while I was in the Cities on my MN tour [post-AAA] I saw the film with pal, Kara. [This post has been a long time coming.]  I don’t care to discuss book vs. movie reviews because we already know the answer.  [Right?  Right.]  But I think, whether you’ve read the book or seen the film or both, there’s one part that seems to stick with people.
You is kind.  You is smart.  You is important.
The story line is one of African American females who worked in white women’s homes as maids, fixing meals and caring for the children.  One of the main characters in the story repeated three lines to the children she cared for every chance she got.  You is kind.  You is smart.  You is important.
If only every child was told this every day.  
There was a six grader in a southeastern Minnesota community who committed suicide two weeks ago.  It makes one wonder if anyone told him this message.  If they did, did he believe it?
I suppose that’s the other part.  We can say the words but do our actions show what we say?  How do we ensure that they know they’re important, have gifts, and potential?

That’s one of the huge reasons I feel called to ministry.  To tell children that they are kind, smart and important.  To help a community share this message – to live this message – with the youth.  To guide children – and all people – in discovering their own gifts and purpose, and to point those out as I see them.

After hearing about the suicide in the nearby community, I wanted to preach to the children and youth.  I wanted to tell them that there is never anything they cannot come and talk to me about.  They are loved beyond measure and have gifts to live.

You is kind.  You is smart.  You is important.  

30 Sep
Thank you, etsy.

One of my favorite expressions now framed and appropriately hanging by the front door.

meet mabel.

30 Sep
She’s here!
I received a phone call this morning, asking if I was still interested in Ms.Angel.  Most certainly so, I said. [Maybe not those exact words.]
I went shopping.  Bought what I thought I needed.  I thought I was ready.

She especially loves the green blobby alien toy.  It has a squeeker.  And she always wants me to take it from her but I always don’t want to – it’s wet and slimy. 

We’ve been together for two hours now.
Tell me I haven’t made a mistake.
I know things will be grand.  We just need to figure out each other’s schedules, not bite, and not jump on the furniture.  [So glad I didn’t get a puppy.  I seriously would not have the patience.]  I think it will be okay.  Once we figure things out together.

As for a name, we’re going with Mabel.  Thanks to Mrs.Kimberly for that suggestion!  [Kim called me and asked for more information on the type of dog.  “I’ll think of a name.  I’ll call you back.”  Within twenty minutes, she called.  “I think she needs an old lady name.  Sadie, Harriet, Mabel -” DONE.]  Mabel kinda sounds like Angel too so hopefully the name change will go okay.  
If you’re coming on Sunday for installation, you’ll get to meet Mabel.  I have family coming to stay tomorrow night [Aunt Kari, cousin Molly, and Grandma Julie] so I hope Mabel treats guests well.  It will all be quite interesting …

weed.

29 Sep
[Picking up on the previous post about drugs, here’s one on weed.]
It’s kind of exciting.  I have a house and with a house comes a yard.  I have a yard and with a yard come maintenance.  I do my best but so far that best is pretty mediocre.
It was a gorgeous day yesterday so as I went home, I decided to do a few outside chores before settling into the hammock with my Kindle.  [Current read: The Girl who Played with Fire.]  I swept all the nasty dead beetles from the front and back stoop and as I walked around the side of the house, I decided to pull weeds.  I started with this one:
Does anyone know what this is?  My knowledge of weeds is quite pathetic.  I obviously didn’t know enough NOT to touch it …
Mistake.  I reached my hand down and grabbed this nasty green thing only to draw my hand back quickly.  It was like a thistle and its tiny prickers poked me.  Screw you, weed.  I walked away and my hand absolutely stung.  It stung terribly.  I walked in the house, washed my hands, and still dealt with the burn.  I did the next logical thing.
I called my mom.  She’s a nurse.  I told her it hurt and stung and burned and was kinda sorta starting to blister.  She told me to take benadryl and put hydrocortisone cream on it.  I had neither at the house.  Instead of driving into town, I did nothing and went to the hammock to read.
The burning eventually subsided.  I went about my night.  Then it started to tingle.  Much like when your leg wakes up from being asleep, there were pins and needles in my hand that would not go away.  All night.  And again this morning.  You’re mean, weed.
It has finally went away but believe me, that weed is going to die and I will pull it’s life from the dirt while wearing long sleeves and gloves.  What did I ever do to you, weed?  [Besides try and kill you?  Touche.]  

drugs.

29 Sep
I went to the care center in Austin this afternoon to visit a couple congregation members.  The first one – we’ll call him Steve – and I had never met.  I probably looked a bit lost, peering into his room to see if he was there.  Luckily [maybe?] the chaplain of the care center who I met yesterday at text study was just across the hall in another room.
Are you looking for Steve?, she asked me, walking into the hallway.
Who’s that?, yelled the woman in the room across the hall.
She’s another pastor, explained the chaplain.  
Is she on drugs too?
No, she’s not on drugs, the chaplain answered immediately.
On that note, we walked away and the chaplain took me to where Steve was hanging out with his wife and in-laws.  End scene.
My first instinct was to laugh but the chaplain kept a straight face so I managed too.  My second reaction was to ask, well, who else is on drugs?  And third, I wanted to ask this chaplain, whom I had only met once briefly in a larger group of people, what made her so sure that I wasn’t on drugs …

a doggy tale.

28 Sep
There’s something I didn’t tell you last night.

I met a new friend.  
She might come live with me.
She’s five and a pure-bred yellow lab.  She’s house-trained [they think – she keeps her kennel clean] and can sit, shake, and lay down.  She seems friendly and awesome and definitely a dog I could love.  I filled out my application at the humane society and they will let me know within a week if Angel can come home with me.  Apparently she has been there for a few weeks and there has been little to no interest in her; most people want a puppy.  I, however, will celebrate that she won’t eat my shoes and I don’t need to fork out money for her to be spayed.  Click here.  Choose dogs and scroll to the bottom to see Angel.  [If you want.  I don’t mean to be bossy.]
*clears throat*  About that name.  As a pastor – really, just as a human being – I refuse to stand outside and call loudly, “Angel!”  Especially when the neighbor dog has such a cool name – Neutron.
You know my brother has yellow lab too.  Jetta is right around five years old too.  Perhaps that’s why I could love Angel and want to give her a home.  She reminds me of the lab mutts we always had growing up and specifically of Jetta dear.

Here’s Jetta.

It’s not the best photo in the world; she was anxious to go outside and couldn’t believe I was making her sit.  This was the one photo she let me take while I visited her in Alaska.  I think I was just a friendly stranger to her now; she’s forgotten her auntie.  sniffle.

That’s pretty much what Angel looks like but I’d gather that Angel is a bit bigger, especially with a bigger head.  Jetta’s a petite girl.  Brother Matt wonders if I will name Angel something like Passat.  I must say it crossed my mind.  [Golf, Touareg, or Phaeton would just be silly.]
Or Darcy.  Darcy has been the name I’ve had for a long time in my head.  [Naturally, my love of P&P shines through here.  Don’t judge me, Lizzy, don’t you dare judge me.]
Doggy name thoughts?
I’ll keep you posted on my application process and should the humane society decide that I would be a responsible doggy mommy, the tales which follow will be plenty.  So many tales that you may curse this blog and wish I never got a dog in the first place.  You’ve been warned.  

a mug routine.

27 Sep
I’ve determined that I’m rooted in routine.  I need routine.  I like routine.
Maybe that’s part of why transition throws me for such a loop.  My routine gets all messy and unknown and mixed up and Lindsay goes loopy.
As I went through my morning routine this morning, I opened the cupboard above my coffee maker and, being the dork that I am, I smiled to myself.  Want to know one of my favorite part of my morning routine?
Deciding which coffee cup I’ll use that day.  

Is it an Office mug day?  [“I *heart* Jim” or “Employee of the year.”]  A Dawson day?  [Preacher gnome or painted gnome scenes.]  A mustache mug or fireworks mug?  [Half of the mustache came off in the dishwasher.  opps.]  Corny/awesome souvenir mugs  from Alaska and Korea?  Choices, choices.  And I love them all.  
There is something about the mug fun and something about the Starbucks french roast [I learned to drink my coffee dark and bold from the best, a la Emily.] that goes inside of it that makes my morning happy.  I love my morning routine.  [Except for that part when I need to wake up and climb out of a cozy bed.  But after that.]

amazon fail.

27 Sep
You know how when you buy things on Amazon.com, they then have your email and all your info of what you’ve purchased and what you’ve ever even thought about purchasing?  I buy a fair number of things on Amazon.  My dear Kindle is the reason that keeps me going back frequently, along with used books and used dvds.  My complete Friends series was purchased on Amazon used and you know how much I love that.  
Amazon sends frequent emails.  The kind of thing where they say – hey.  We saw that you bought these; now wouldn’t you like to purchase these too?  It’s almost like the Hallmark cards that say, “I saw this and thought of you!”  They suggest like items, items they think I may be interested in based on my history on the site.
Yesterday, I received one of said emails in my inbox.  
“Amazon.com recommends “Red clown foam noses (12 pc.)” was the subject line.
I have no idea what I have bought in the past or what I’ve searched for that would lead Amazon to believe that I need a dozen clown noses, but I’m so glad they see fake foam noses and think of me.
[No.  I did not purchase them.  My current need for clown noses is quite non-existent.]
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