The Gift of Love

Where to begin?

It’s been another one of those weeks—very busy, hectic, where it’s been difficult to find time to breathe, knowing I’m doing good things, yet still barely keeping my head above water.

My Saturday was wonderfully healing, though. It was my birthday, which I was able to celebrate with TO and DP (we went to dinner at a friend’s Chinese restaurant—he brought me a candle with deep-fried wontons and sweet-and-sour sauce all around it like a wreath). TO gave me a beautiful book of Celtic blessings—can’t have too many resources for prayer!

But more than that, I celebrated two events that, to me, pretty much sum up my call. In the morning, I married two lovely women—they’ve been together quite a while, and are deeply in love. Even though their marriage has no legal standing where they live, they know that somewhere in the world, it does—one government, at least, recognizes their bond and their love.

And then in the afternoon, I was privileged to be a part of the departure of a member of our larger community. She wasn’t a member of the church, but she and her extended family are our friends. She died after a heroic struggle with breast cancer. I was asked to lead the service, along with a family member who is former clergy. From the beginning, we knew we wouldn’t be having a traditional funeral service--it was not what she would have wanted, and it would not have expressed her soul. So we tried to create a celebration. I like to think we succeeded--many tears, some laughter, much sharing, lots of hugs. I kept thinking, as I looked around the room, that I hoped I would have half as many people at my memorial service who were touched by my life, to whom I had made a difference, whose lives were changed because they knew me. Not because I think I’m special, but because it seems to me that this is our reason for life—to touch others, to help them find healing, growth and strength, and to allow them to express their life-giving gifts through helping us and guiding us to healing, growth, and strength.

The common bond between the two events of yesterday? Lives that touch each other, that heal and comfort and uplift. I think of the Judy Collins song, “Song for Duke,” about the service for Duke Ellington.

I didn't even know the man
I didn't know the man himself
Even though his music filled my life
As it has so many others.

I knew that he had died that week
After fighting death a year or more
But I had had a rule before
That funerals were a waste of flowers

But something said I had to go
To be a witness to his gift of love
A man who never once gave up on life
Until death took him in his tracks.

The people stood around the church
Ten thousand people there they say, or more
Black and white, rich and poor
Together they were there to say farewell.

In New York City it had rained that day
The streets were silver and the sky was grey
But in the church the music soared and sang
And seemed to fill the air with shining sun.

The man was a hero
He played the music of our souls
He knew that we all have in us
A place where beauty always grows

Outside in the streets again,
The people wandered through the falling rain
They waved their hands and dried their tears
And turned to go about their lives again.

But none of us will be the same
If we hear the things his music said
That loving is the gift of life
And making music was his way of love.

The man was a hero
He played the music of our souls
He knew we all had in us
A place where beauty always grows
Always grows.

May you walk in beauty today and always.

Get Down Off That Cross!

I started to write about how crazy things are, and then I thought, "Well, yes. Everyone's life is crazy right now." So then I started to write about how I'm trying to balance my stress and self-care, especially after my scare last week (thanks for the nudge, Barbara!).

And then I found out about LutheranChik's mom.

And now I'm reminded of what a friend said once when I was moaning about all the stuff I had to do, and how no one was helping me, and how I needed to let others take some of the load, but it was so hard to let go of things... He looked me straight in the eye and said, "Get down off that cross, honey, someone already got crucified for us!"

My self-pity party is now officially over.

Tired, Stressed and Weary

Change is never easy. For church members, change in their church is not usually easy (unless things are so dysfunctional that they have to get better or the church is going to collapse). Our church here in River City is changing. Some members think it is for the worse; others think it is for the best. I only know that I am trying to follow God's will for this place. But oh, it is hard some days--I feel like I'm pulling uphill.

I woke up today feeling like I just got off the Tilt-A-Whirl (carnival ride, for those of you outside North America). I thought maybe I needed breakfast. So I ate some toast. It didn't go away. Well, I've been keeping some late hours, so maybe I was short on sleep. I tried going back to sleep. Nope. DP finally talked me into calling the doctor and making an appointment. See, I have what they call an arachnoid cyst. It's a benign fluid-filled cyst in the arachnoid layer of the brain. Totally harmless, probably had it all my life, only found it when I had an MRI to be sure my migraines were simply migraines (they were and are). However. I was told then that if I ever had dizzy spells or different headaches or trouble walking (and I did this morning) or talking (fat chance, hah!) I should see the doctor. So I did. She had me do the walk the line, touch my nose, touch her finger, etc. type tests. I'm OK, she says. Stress. But she still wants to do an update MRI. But she reassured me, sent me on my way.
Stress. I almost laughed out loud. Isn't that in the job description?
Well, off to write two sermons, finish the church newsletter, finish Palm Sunday and Easter worship planning, and make a few phone calls.
Stress. Who would have thought?

Friday Five on Friday (now, don't faint)

Five things I would have on the shelves in my store"
1. Books, books, books! Lots of good books of all kinds, from theology to fiction to history to poetry to photographs to essays....
2. Food, food, food! (needed to go with No. 1). All those hard to find things that are so good--the special chutneys and jellies and mustards and pretzels and spices and cookies and candies and teas and coffees and sauce mixes and soups and....
3. Gadgets, gadgets, gadgets! Little thises and thats--the neat pepper-mill, the page markers that don't damage the pages, the book holders, the spaghetti measurers...
4. Pet goodies, pet goodies, pet goodies! Treats, fancy collars, dishes, food containers, toys, furniture, beds...
5. CDs, CDs, CDs! All my favourite whimsies, from movie soundtracks to singers and showtunes and operas and sacred music--Rutter to Mozart to Etheridge to Moody Blues to Louis Armstrong to Cabaret to Bernstein's Mass to Figaro to Grease....

And it would be in a huge octogon-shaped building, like a birdfeeder the size of a house, with glass walls all around to let in the light.

Don't have a clue if I'd make money, though...

A Sunday Morning Walk...

Well, I hang my head in embarrassment. After getting al upset because I felt ignored, here I go not even posting for a week or more!

Life. Sometimes I get so busy with living, I forget to have a life!

There’s a group of women here in River City that has started meeting regularly on Sunday mornings to hike on one of the many nature trails in the area. They set it up for Sunday mornings because DP and I have church on Sunday afternoons. Many of them bring their dogs—it’s for fun, not a hard workout for fitness. I went yesterday for the first time, with the dog, Mr. M—DP has gone before. What a blast!

It was cold but sunny, in that Midwestern way, where the wind whips tears from your eyes, which then freeze in the corners of your eyes, and makes your nose run. Lots of people were on the trail, taking advantage of the dry—and relatively warm—weather (one of my friends who has worked above the Arctic Circle jokes about the warm weather anytime the thermometer reads above 0…).

I could just see the beginnings of green on the bark of the willows, and the dogs (not the very height-challenged Mr. M.) were splashing in the ponds and puddles. Even though the breeze was sharp, you could feel spring behind it.

Mr. M. had a great time keeping up with the bigger dogs (Labs and lab mixes), not to mention being allowed off-leash (!! Heaven to canine sensibilities). He’d gallop hard to catch up with the bigger dogs, then glance back to see where we were, and stop to let us catch up, then dash madly off to be with the other dogs again. We walked about 3 kilometres, which is pretty good for a dog with legs about 5 inches long! We had to turn back before the rest, to get home in time to change for church, and Mr. M. was much slower without the other dogs to keep up with! He slept most of the afternoon…

It set me wondering why I let myself be stopped by the memory of how cold it is (or hot, depending on the season), and all the discomforts, when I love being outside so much once I get myself there. In my lifetime, I have loved camping, gardening, hiking, canoeing, and dog training—all of which are best done outside! When I used to garden, I had to have a strict rule against going out to the yard in the morning before leaving for work, because I would get caught up in pulling just a few weeds, or trimming just a branch or a twig there, or checking out the state of the hydrangea… You get the picture. Before I knew it, I was late to work!

Am I really so fundamentally lazy that I don’t want to go to the trouble of getting ready and going to the campground/river/trail/backyard, even though I know I will enjoy it once I get there? Do I feel I don’t deserve it, or that I shouldn’t be wasting time when I could improve my sermon or be meeting with someone or working on worship for Easter? I’m not sure what the answer is, but I really think it’s something I should ponder. Why do I put up false obstacles in the way of my own rest, refreshment, and renewal?

It’s worth thinking about as we enter spring and summer, when it’s so easy for me to get overbooked with weddings, family events, and Pride happenings. Perhaps I need to just push myself more, but instead of pushing myself to work harder, I should be pushing myself to enjoy the things I know I enjoy—gardening, cross-stitch, hiking, canoeing…

It is not a coincidence that I felt more relaxed at church yesterday afternoon than I have felt in a long time. Yes, I was a bit late, and we were rushed to get ready on time…but I felt more relaxed and focused—and it was because of that hike.

Rest and renewal. They aren’t just words anymore—I remember now what they really mean and what they feel like.

Thursday Thoughts...

So the crisis is treated for the moment (final resolution to be decided, but immediate flames have been doused). My midday sermon for the Anglicans was as close to a triumph as such a creature can get (I was invited back “any time"). I met with a couple I’m marrying in June (they’re getting married, I’m officiating, just for clarification), and they are just delightful!

I am feeling much better today, even though I don’t have the sermon even started for Sunday, I have to work at a bingo on Saturday, DP’s hurting (torn shoulder ligament), and I had to cancel a visit to my mom for tomorrow.

****

Clergy self-care. There’s a hot topic. Where do we draw the line between keeping ourselves strong and healthy on the one hand, and taking care of the flock on the other? It’s about more than boundaries (although that’s part of it). I think it’s also about time management—not the Franklin-Covey kind (but it helps). Jesus knew what his priorities were, and stuck to them. He took the time for retreats, to turn aside and pray. He didn’t even try to heal everyone who came to him, or to preach to very crowd. And he had his trouble with boundary issues too—remember the crowd that pressed around him so much he had to get in a boat and preach from there instead of among them? We need to take the time for our priorities—our relationship with God, our retreat time—in order to be strong enough to do the work God has called us to do. And of course there’s the issue of allowing other to do some of the work—we weren’t called to do all the work, but to lead others in doing the work together.

My mother was telling me about a church woman she was supposed to work with on a committee, who did all the work of the committee. As a result, the program the committee was supposed to work on together was much less rich and interesting. The committee chair wasn’t able to do it all herself, but didn’t ask for help either (in getting a guest speaker, for example, or finding other liturgical resources). The committee ended up doing some of the readings for the program and nothing else, although they were all willing to do more (and had let the chair know that they were available).

How many of us, as clergy and lay leaders, think that we have to do it all? I’ve fallen into that trap. When someone says, “We really should have a youth program,” or “a parish visitors’ program,” or “put our services on the local cable channel,” I start feeling guilty because I don’t have it in place, don’t have the first thought about how to put it together or what it would look like, and haven’t even considered who should be in charge of such a thing. I start thinking, “If I were really on the ball, I would have thought about this and have half a plan together already, at least in my mind.” Of course, the obvious answer to suggestions like that is, “That’s a great idea. Why don’t you come by the office Tuesday and we’ll talk about how you can put that into action.” Maybe we’ve read too many stories about the young pastor who turns around a failing parish in the inner city; or (in my case) about John Wesley, who wrote innumerable sermons, hymns, pamphlets and books, started a school, rode literally thousands of miles up and down the length and breadth of England, mentored new preachers, sent out missionaries, and oh yes, organized a whole new denomination… There’s no way we can live up to that, and we shouldn’t try.

We each have a call; that’s the only call we can answer. We need to respond to OUR call, not to John Wesley’s call, or LutheranChik’s call, or Will Smama’s call (unless we happen to be John Wesley or LutheranChik or Will Smama….). We can’t do it—we can’t do what someone else is called to do, and if we try to do it, we will inevitably fail. So—answer your own call, take time to listen to God, and let other people carry part of the load.

I think that's a big part of my issues. I keep comparing myself with other people, and their successes (or failures). When I was new in the transfer process, for example, I met a pastor who had started a new church--she had worked part-time in social work and part-time as the pastor of the start-up church. She was an incredible preacher, had a charm and energy about her, and was (and is) a "golden girl," marked for promotion and progress in our denomination. I was in despair because I'm not much like her (young-nope; fiery energetic speaker--nope; charisma--nope; second job--nope). But then a wise friend pointed out that Golden Girl had certain gifts but lacked others; she prefers starting churches or re-energizing churches to working to grow existing churches. I have gifts she doesn't and vice versa. "No one has all the gifts of the Spirit," my friend commented, "and that's probably a good thing!"

God needs my gifts, too. We are all members of the body of Christ, and it takes every one of us to do God's work properly. If we each answer our own call well, then God's will is done.

Oh, were you folks listening, too? I was preaching to myself, but, hey, if the stole fits….

Wednesday Update

The clean-up meeting went pretty well last night. It was a sobering and difficult experience, but it had to be done.

So now I'm off to speak at the midday service--and the focus of the scripture is rainbows...!! I'm going to enjoy this. If I had created the bulletin, I would have used the image I use for my profile--the swirling rainbow with a cross.

My message is that the rainbow, with all its colours, is a symbol of God's all-embracing and unconditional love, as is the cross. As we begin Lent, the cross seems far away; the rainbow is present as a reminder of whose we are and the love God has for us. The rainbow and the cross--both symbols of God's unconditional love for us.

Hellooo Oooouuut Theeeere!

Hello? Hello? Is this thing on? (tap tap SKEEEREETCH) Yeah. OK, guess it is.

I showered and everything. So where is everyone? Have I fallen into a wormhole or a black hole or a rabbit hole or some kind of hole where my posts are visible only to me?

I know I haven't been as regular as I have been in the past, but gee golly...

(Boy, don't post for a couple days and they forget you...mumble, mumble..."Rainbow who? " That's what they're saying... paranoia off...)

You are now returned to your regularly scheduled blog...

Tuesday's Struggle

Well, I have two sermons this week--one in the midday Lenten series hosted by the tall-steeple church in town--and a minor crisis to deal with...

The crisis is one that could have been avoided if I had been more on the ball, but I'm trying not to beat myself up about that. What's done is done and now we have to deal with the consequences. Clean-up is such a chore.

Keep me in your prayers tonight, sisters and brothers, as we have the clean-up meeting!

And also during the day as I try to write the sermon for tomorrow with the meeting hanging over my head...

Friday Meme on Saturday

Can I plead a time difference?

No?

Well, here goes anyway.

1. Daily Prayer
I had a Celtic breviary, which I used for a good eight months or so during my first year of seminary. I loved the way it followed the cycle of the seasons, bidding farewell to summer, welcoming the return of the light in mid-winter, and so on. Eventually, I got so busy with life (part-time seminary, part-time work, full-time mom and spouse, part-time ministry interne…) I didn’t make time for it. I still have the breviary, which I look at longingly every time I run across it. I know, what am I waiting for?

2. Disciple Covenant
Some of you may be familiar with this. It’s a small-group discipline, based on John Wesley’s class meeting model, created (or refined) by David Lowes Watson. In a small group (5-12), you agree on 5-12 disciplines, in four areas—Worship, Devotion, Charity and Justice (at least one in each area). These are things that you agree to do, either on a regular basis or as a special project: pray or meditate daily, tithe monthly, begin a correspondence with a prisoner, recycle your cans and bottles, and so on. Then every week, for exactly an hour, you meet in your group and hold each other accountable for observing those disciplines. It sounds like a lot of work and in the beginning it is, but the results are astounding! I was forced to do it as part of my first year at seminary, then during our internships in the last two years we had to implement them in the churches where we were serving, I disliked it extremely for the first six months, then I sorta liked it. In my internship setting, I had an awesome group, and we rocked! It was a much better experience the second time around. We kept meeting all summer, even though we didn’t have to, and when I left, the group vowed to keep meeting. A lot of spiritual growth goes on in those Disciple groups!

3. Newspaper Reading
From the time I was in about 3rd grade, I was in the habit of reading at least parts of the paper. The comics, of course, but also a column called “Action Line,” which helped people find out how to deal with the gas company, or find a long-lost friend, or get a good doctor, or just answer an odd question (“What’s that statue on the corner of 4th and Main?” “Who is the main library named after?” “Is it true that a turkey can drown in the rain?”). Of course, we have the Internet and Google to take care of those questions now, but then there was no where else. I was fascinated (probably an early manifestation of my research jones). As I got older, I read more and more. Wherever I lived, I got the local paper—Washington Post (I still miss it!!), The Stars and Stripes European Edition (the armed forces paper; just enough content to finish reading it over a bowl of cereal), etc. The local paper in River City isn’t worth buying—we get it every once in a while, but I have no desire to subscribe. If there were a real paper, I’d subscribe. I do read a couple of papers online, but it just isn’t the same—especially on Sundays!

4. Bedtime Reading
DP still has trouble understanding this one, although she’s starting to pick it up, I’ve noticed (shhhh—pretend you don’t notice, maybe she’ll keep it up). It doesn’t have to be much, or for very long, but something interesting (but not too interesting, or I’ll never turn out the light). Right now it’s The Discoverers, by Daniel Boorstein. It takes my mind away from anything that has been fretting at me, and lets me relax. Then prayers and lights out!

Journaling
I’m going back to this one. I’ve been reading On Becoming a Leader, by Warren Bennis, and he talks a lot about the value of reflection, of taking the time to think about what is happening, about mistakes that have been made, or successes, about your goals and your visions. My last year of seminary and first year of ministry I was very faithful in journaling, and during my coming-out as well. Journaling has a way of allowing you to vent, to reflect on things, to make the things that seem so huge and scary come down to their real size, and to let you celebrate good stuff, even if it seems teensy and minor to someone else. I have a wonderful software package (Life Journal) that lets you highlight concepts and bookmark ideas, chart your health, even do an autobiography. I don’t use all its incredible features. But my intention is to do so—and now my intention is out there in cyberspace, so y’all can hold my feet to the fire on it!

"Have a Blessed Lent!"

I have a new member who has come from a tradition which doesn't observe all the events of the Christian year. Lent is new to him. So he asked me, "what do you wish people? A Happy Lent? A merry Lent? May you keep to all your givings-up? Did you enjoy your putzkis?" [A Polish delight, like filled doughnuts, found only on and around Shrove Tuesdays]

I suggested wishing people a "Blessed Lent."

So how do we welcome members of our congregations who aren't as familiar with our ways as our long-time members? This is as true for our services as it is for the cycle of the Christian year.

A friend was in another tradition's church a couple of weeks ago, and while he liked using a hymnal (which we have gotten away from), because he could read the music, he was also juggling the hymnal, a book of prayer, the order of worship and a second songbook. He spent a lot of time figuring out the mechanics of getting through the service. Hard to pray or contemplate when you're trying to work out what book is going to be used next... And he is a church musician, who has seminary training and has worked with many traditions. Imagine someone who hasn't been to church in twenty years--if ever?

When I took my first corporate worship class in seminary, one of our major assignments was to visit, on our own or in small groups, five churches of traditions different from our own. What an excellent assignment! The experience ranged from exquisite (the saint's day service at the Greek Orthodox church, where the priest welcomed us as "brothers and sisters" during the service and spent an hour afterwards talking to us), to the dismal (the church, denomination nameless, where I spent the whole service and never got more than a "Good Morning" when I was handed the order of worship). And there were the ones in-between, some of which were like my musician's experience--confusing, but warm and welcoming... Very enlightening!

I've come to the decision that we can't explain too much. Even if our long-time members have heard the explanation of how to take Communion a thousand times, they can stand to hear it once again. Better that than the one new person be so embarrassed by not knowing what to do that she never comes back and feels uncomfortable at the very thought of church!

I've also decided that as we come to each new season of the Church year, I'll put a short article into the order of worship (in with the announcements on the back) about this new season and what it means. We'll see if anyone reads it!

What do you do in your congregations to make new comers feel comfortable and welcome, both to the service and to church?

Further Adventures in Hair...

Well, yes, I do have a service tonight, and I'm preaching next Wednesday at River City's tall-steeple church's midweek Lenten service, and then there's a couple of upcoming weddings (yay!)... But here's a few lighter thoughts.

I went back to The Stylist (see January 17th for THAT story). I planned on simply a cut, to trim the shaggy-ness. He started snipping and trimming, got my mop into some kind of shape, took out the blow dryer, and then suddenly stopped. "No," he said. "You need colour."

Now, if you'll remember, he had mentioned that last time. I've been more sort of a Clairol and Nice 'n' Easy gal (though there was a time when I had professional highlights and colour on a regular basis). But The Stylist is, as I said, high fashion, and I wasn't too sure what he might have in mind. Well, he whipped out his colour book, and had his assistant mix two colours together, and hustled me off to another chair while he finished the client who was waiting patiently, and then I had my hair coloured.

And, I have to say, I like it! It's red (of course), but not orange, not scarlet, but definitely red, of a shade that looks redder indoors than outdoors. Not violent, but there, noticeable.

And DP likes it. She likes the cut, too--not too short this time, she says.

I can breathe easy.

Now that my hair is in order, perhaps I can take care of the Lenten services. I've just heard that the choir of our host church knows nothing of our planned Ash Wednesday service (they're not having one, obviously), to be held in the sanctuary--where they practice on Wednesday evenings...

I'm plunging back into the whirlwind, but at least my hair looks good!

Friday Five Two Days Late...

Hi, my name's Rainbow Pastor, and I'm a procrastinator. ("Hi, Rainbow Pastor.") (Shamelessly stealing from LutheranChik)

Five friends, in no particular order:

1. Old Friend (OF)! I've known this friend since 3rd grade. Sometimes we've been closer, sometimes further apart, but always we've stayed in touch and been friends. She's been with me through some bad times--my parents' divorce, my serious childhood illness, my own divorce--and some wonderful times--my coming out, my college years, seminary. She's always there for me, and I've tried to always be there for her. Her brother passed away recently, and she commented to me that I was her only friend who really knew her brother--she had met all her other friends after the brother moved away, out of state, so they never met him, or knew him. I need to call her and see how she's doing...

2. High School Friend (HSF)! I've mentioned before that we were very close in high school, then lost touch after I graduated, then got back in touch by God's grace last year, and actually had lunch together (with his partner of 25 years and their son) last month. He's one of those friends where you pick up the conversation where you left off, whether it was a week ago you talked or fifteen years. Songbird's PB friend's mother reminds me of HSF's mother--I always felt she didn't quite approve of me, and I don't know if it was because my parents were divorced, or because we lived in the apartments (low cost housing...) or because she had a suspicion about HSF's orientation, and "knew" there was potential for disaster in our relationship (of course, what she didn't know was that I had no interest in HSF "that way').

3. Coming-Out Coach! COC had gone through the same experience that I had (marriage for 20-some years, parenthood, divorce and coming out), only about five years earlier. He was very shy, but his roommate (very gregarious) got to know me and COC began getting together on a regular basis. We both had Mondays off, so we'd go shopping in the afternoon, have dinner together and see a movie. He talked me through more grief and struggle in one night than most therapists see in a week! We rarely talk anymore, but he was one of those "for a season, for a reason" friends. I will never forget him and will always be grateful for his love and support.

4. Germany Friend (GF)! We had so much in common--a call to ministry, spirituality that was not totally comprehended by our spouses, children of the same age, and the military (she's former military, my then-husband was in the military). We talked and laughed, we did all the fun girl stuff (shopping, watching chick flicks and eating chocolate, cooking huge meals), she held me when I sobbed with post-partum depression (having gone through it herself only three months earlier), our families shared holidays together, and we talked theology for hours. But when I cam out, she had nothing more to do with me. Her emails (the few I receive now) have to do with my son (who is still friends with her children) and are cold. We meant so much to each other, it is a grief to me that we are severed.

5. Constant Friend (CF)! We met in seminary, in a Systematic Theology class. I had known him earlier, as a friend of a friend, but we hadn't really gotten to know each other. Then a group of us gathered into a study group for the Systematics class. Besides being a great way to study (probably the only reason I passed!), we came to know each other very well. CF wasn't the one who knew all the definitions, but he came up with the questions we knew we had to answer. Then when I faced a minor (although it seemed major) crisis in my first congregation, he was there for me in a way even my then-husband was not. He prayed with me, he had his prayer group pray for me, and he kept in touch with me all the way through the crisis. He was one of the first people I came out to. When he moved across the country to be with his partner, we kept in touch, and DP and I visited him for a week of luxurious spoiling (see blog on trips). Again, we don't talk every day or even every week, but when we do, our connection is still clear and strong.

And there are others--my sister, my mom, DP, PF and APF...many more. I thank God for the blessing of these friends every day.

Too Much to Do, or Procrastination?

Well, it's not quite what I was looking for, but I think it might help.
Quotidian Grace and I have been struggling with the time-management-to-prevent-burnout thing. There are some suggestions in this article from the Washington Post (and I do hope the link works, I don't use links often, so I am no expert at it). Some of it seems pretty obvious once it's mentioned (like much advice...)--say no, block off time to do certain tasks. The email one may really help--I tend to read emails immediately as they pop up. This can really contributes to my procrastination!

Procrastination and too much to do. I'm beginning to see a relationship here. I think one thing I do is delay doing the difficult tasks (or the ones I feel less comfortable with) by doing the other ones, which may or may not need to be done just then. So I end up with things done, but not the tasks that really needed to get done--they are still waiting. SO I feel like I'm working hard, but I'm really spinning my wheels.

Hmmm. I think I've hit on something.

Going Down For the Third time....

Help! I'm drowning!

Does anyone have a good resource for time management? I need it desperately!

I've been keeping track of my time the last few weeks as an exercise. I discovered I've been spending about 35-40 hours a week on church work. Now, that's not bad at all if it's your full-time job. But I'm paid for 20 hours a week. Period.

I'm pulled several ways. One says that this is my calling, my life's work, and that I shouldn't even be keeping track. It's all for God's glory, right? Another way says that the labourer is worth her hire, and I deserve to be paid for my time and work (and I also need to eat and pay rent and have lights and heat and an Internet connection...). A third way says that I could do so much more if I had the freedom of being paid full time and was able to do all that I want to do (and I don't want to give 40+ hours on a regular basis until I'm paid for 40 hours on a regular basis, because why would the congregation pay for what they already get free?).

So. I'm working hard, doing good stuff, we're making progress on all fronts, and I'm genuinely glad to be here and working with these wonderful people. How do I balance all that I need to do (personal prayer/meditation time, worship, education, outreach, nurturing leadership, administration, etc.) without neglecting anything or over-emphasizing something else? Some weeks it seems like I just get one fire put out when another one blazes up, and I never get to the other things (professional reading, telephone calls to shut-ins, a day off for me) that I want/need to do as well as the usual (plan worship, write the sermon, visit the hospitalized, lead Bible study, etc.). And the bonfire I have to put out aren't bad things--they are often wonderful things, like weddings or looking for new space.

I'm working on saying no, and on telling people "I can't talk right now," and so on, but that doesn't always work, either. Delegating only works when you have someone to whom you can delegate a particular task. I am very careful to not overload people, as this church has a history of burning people out by asking them to do too much. So I often end up doing things that "ought to be done" myself, because there is no one to whom I can delegate.

This is not my first church. I was an associate pastor for two years, then led two churches (joint charge) for a year, before I arrived here in River City. Before that I was working part-time, running a house, and going to seminary part-time. I'm not exactly a novice at organizing my time and getting things done. It may have to do with the size of the church and what the pastor has to do. With the larger churches, I had committees of people who would do things like taking care of getting the palms for Palm Sunday or share teaching the Bible study or organize the retreat.

Isn't it ironic that the larger the congregation, the better-paid the pastor, and the narrower her/his focus is?

I really don't mean this as a whine, and I hope it doesn't come across that way. I want to do as much as I can--create worship, write sermons, visit, call, lead--and as well as I can. So what is keeping me from getting organized enough to get it all done?

I'm asking this as a genuine question, as I said. If anyone has a wonderful resource that helps set real priorities and stay on track, I'd love to hear about it in the comments!

Winter Olympics Friday Five

1) Which of the Winter Olympic sports is your favorite to watch?
Hmmmm. Probably the figure skating events--like dance but not quite. Also, I did learn to ice skate as a kid (one of my few athletic accomplishments), so I have some idea of the difficulty of what they are doing. And, before you ask, no, I did not wear one of those short floaty skirt things.

2) Do you speak Snowboardese?
Nope. I love the sound of it, though (there's something seductive about jargon, even if you don't have the slightest idea what it means).

3) Define Nordic Combined. Don't look it up. Take a guess if you must.
Um. I think it's a skiing event. I took one skiing class, and after they had to shut down the ski lift (the ponta lift) because I got stuck and couldn't get off, I never tried downhill again.

4) Curling. Please discuss.
OK, I must be becoming Canadian by osmosis, because I actually think it's kinda cool. There's as much thinking and strategy as there is athletic skill--a thinking person's hockey, maybe.

5) If you could be a Winter Olympics Champion just by wishing for it, which sport would you choose for winning your Gold Medal?
Ski jump. I'm terrified of heights, and this way I wouldn't have to actually go up that high and jump into thin air, with no parachute or net or even ski poles to catch me...ohhh, my palms are sweating just thinking about it. It's like a bad dream where you're falling off a building or something...
Ski jump. No need to actually jump. Gold medal. I'm sooo there.

Servants

I visited one of the members of the congregation today—a true pillar of the church. That term is often used for someone who gives enough to pay half the pastor’s salary, or single-handedly runs the annual Church Fair, or always provides the goodies for Sunday coffee. This wonderful lady does none of those things, but she is, nonetheless, a pillar of the church. Everyone knows her, she talks to people I don’t get to (and people who are too timid to talk to the pastor), and she really listens to what I say in sermons (I get some of my best feedback from her). She takes on small tasks that other people don’t even realize need to be done.

Her health has been declining lately, and she’s understandably depressed, afraid of losing touch with her friends now that she’s virtually housebound, fearing becoming a burden to her partner, and generally feeling that life is over at far too young an age.

What can you say to someone in her situation? She’s far too sophisticated and smart to be calmed by platitudes, and her fears are realistic. I can’t sit there and say, “Things will work out,” or “well, at least you’re still here.” That’s not helpful to her (or to me).

So we talked about what she can still do for the church, even at home, and how we can get her to church with her medical equipment-who has a van or station wagon we can use? Who comes from this end of town? What does the church need done that she can do from home—phone calls? Care notes written?

She wants to be a part of the church she has loved and needed for so long—and which still needs her. She wants to serve.

The congregation has also been involved recently in fundraising for a young man who was shot in an apparent hate crime (the police think so, but it’s not being prosecuted that way). For various reasons, his health insurance is not covering all of the expenses. So the community-—his friends, his co-workers, his family’s friends and co-workers—-have stepped up to fill in the gap. Word of the incident has spread far and wide (thanks to the Internet) and donations have come in from all over the region. There have been fundraising events, coverage on TV and the radio, and newspaper stories.

So how do we serve each other? Do we make phone calls? Do we send donations to a young man we've never met? What does it mean to serve one another in love?

Every one of the people at the fundraiser last night was serving that young man. Every call made by my parishioner is service to a fellow church member.

Go now, to love and serve God and your neighbour.

Surprise!

Your Inner Child Is Surprised

You see many things through the eyes of a child. Meaning, you're rarely cynical or jaded. You cherish all of the details in life. Easily fascinated, you enjoy experiencing new things.

How Is Your Inner Child?

Found this at Following Frodo...

Like Gord, I'm not sure about the whole "inner child" thing, and I don't really think I'm all that surprised. On the other hand, it is true that I'm not cynical. Some might even call me naive, but I really do prefer to assume that people are doing the best they can and don't act maliciously on purpose--even though I know it's not true.

I had an appointment this afternoon, I have a Board meeting tonight, two appointments on Wednesday, and one appointment on Friday... Busy week. I'm keeping it cool tomorrow, though--Valentine's Day, I make no appointments so I can get home to DP on time! We're having pot roast for a special dinner--her favourite!

I've always liked Valentine's Day, from the time I knew what it was. Mom used to get my sister and me a box of crafty things so we could make Valentines for the family--doilies and construction paper and feathers and glitter and so on. We had a great time. Even when I was older, and there was the whole girl/guy/guy/girl thing (pick your combination), it was a lot of fun. Plus I love chocolate and red-hots. Through university, career, motherhood, second career, it was always fun for me.

I only had one bad Valentine's Day. It was shortly after I came out and started divorce proceedings...I was depressed anyway, and living alone--I didn't get to see TO often enough, stresses were building in the churches I was serving, and the whole world felt grey, Valentine's Day or no Valentine's Day. To my horror, I actually broke down and cried a few days beforehand in front of one of my closest friends. He proved his worth as a friend, however, by not running away or brushing off my pain or pretending it would all be fine. He hugged me, gave me a Kleenex, calmed me down... and called me later that night to be sure I was OK. He even sent me a Valentine's card! Funny how a simple piece of cardboard can cheer you up so well! My mother and sister sent me cards, too--appreciated beyond words!

And then on Valentine's Day itself that year, I met DP--and the rest, as they say, is history!

Happy Valentine's Day and lots of chocolate to all!

Farewell Friday Five!

1. How do you say goodbye to someone you will see again soon?
“See ya!”

2. What is your favorite foreign word for "goodbye?"
German—“Bis Spaeter!” Literally, “until later,” so, “See you soon!”

3. Have you ever planned a special farewell for someone, or had one planned for you?
A couple of times. When I left the church I had belonged to for a long time for my internship and then ordained ministry, they invited me to preach, gave me a lovely stole (which is my “special occasions” stole), and had a reception after church. When I finished my transfer process from the UMC to MCC, and came to River City, the congregation I belonged to during the process had a special blessing-time for me during the last service. Both were very special times of recognizing what we had been to each other.

4. What is the hardest goodbye you have had to say?
To my father when he died. He did not believe in an afterlife, and so for him his death was the end. It was incredibly painful for me to see him dying, and thinking there was no more—and knowing I could not change his mind. I had tried and failed several times.

5. What is the most romantic goodbye you have seen in a movie?
Rick’s farewell to Ilsa in “Casablanca;” Lara and Yuri’s farewell in “Dr. Zhivago;“ and Vivian and Cay in “Desert Hearts.”

And a Bonus question for Musical Theatre geeks: Which Von Trapp child would you like to be in "So Long, Farewell?"
I can’t even remember all their names, let alone who had which line!

I'm It!

OK, LutheranChik meme-tagged me. Here goes...

Remove the blog in the top spot from the following list and bump everyone up one place. Then add your blog to the bottom slot, like so.

1) Anastasia
2) Haligweorc
3) Topmost Apple
4)LutheranChik's "L" Word Diary
5)Rainbow Pastor

Next, select five people to tag:
1) Walk Humbly
2) Dylan (and her Grace Notes)
3) Friday Mom
4) Rebel
5) Rev Mom

What were you doing 10 years ago?
I had just been fired (one and only time in my life), and I took the time to think about what I really, really wanted to do with my life, not what someone else wanted me to do. Best thing that happened to me, to be honest, though it hurt like hell at the time...

What were you doing 1 year ago?
Learning to speak Canadian, eh?

Five snacks you enjoy:
A. Chex mix
B. Chocolate mint cookies
C. Apples with peanut butter
D. Cashews
E. Maple pecan frozen yogurt

(hmmm, I'm seeing a nut theme here)

Five songs you know all the words to:
A. Both Sides Now
B. Blowin' in the Wind
C. Giant (Melissa Etheridge)
D. Alleluia (kd lang's cover)
E. O For a Thousand Tongues to Sing (joke, actually; it has a million verses; but I know the first four in the United Methodist hymnal)
F. Raining Men (The Weather Girls)

Actually, hymns probably shouldn't count for pastors...and notice I didn't (really) include any)

Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:
A. Pay off all my debts
B. Invest a chunk for retirement and for TO's university
C. Buy a house DP and I can live in the rest of our lives
D. Pay lawyer's and Canada Customs and Immigration's fees to get "landed immigrant" status
E. Write a healthy check for the church's building fund

Five bad habits:
A. Procrastination
B. "Eeyore" thinking (i.e., jumping to the worst possible scenario; AKA Drama Queen)
C. Swaying while I preach
D. Slouching
E. Nervous giggle

Five things you enjoy doing:
A. Reading
B. Researching a topic to death
C. Writing
D. Browsing in a bookstore or library (see A)
E. Canoeing

Five things you would never wear again:
A. Hip-hugger jeans
B. Platform shoes
C. Choker necklace
D. Plaid
E. Hot pants/short shorts

(only five? What about peasant blouses, bell-bottoms, big earrings, macrame belts and bandannas?)

Five favorite toys:
(Snicker)
A. my Personal Digital Assistant (especially since I found the Lectionary to upload to it...)
B. my laptop
C. my car (VW Jetta wagon...sigh)
D. my glass-fronted bookcases (no, really--there's something very satisfying about seeing my books through glass, all safe and dustless; also protects my rainbow-coloured feather boa from the cats)
E. my coffeemaker (don't laugh; it turns off automatically, I can adjust the heat on the warming plate, and I can set it to start brewing in the morning while I'm still sleeping...)

Thanks, LC--that was kinda fun!

Your turn!

Juggling with Sermons, Worship Planning, A Seminar and a Membership Class

I know it's not quite the "done" thing to admit it, but--I'm reading a fun book! It's a wonderful historical fiction novel, part of a series by Dorothy Dunnett. The title of this one, the second in the series is Queen's Play (as in chess moves, not as in a drama for the stage). Anyway, the main character just did some serious juggling--with knives, eggs, a key, a vase of water, and some other varied objects.

I sympathize.

I spent the weekend with my extended family, celebrating a high-numbered birthday with my mother and all of her eight (8) siblings, and all but one of my siblings (and didn't we talk about the absent one?), and other assorted family and hangers-on. It was a great time, actually. I get along well with most of my aunts and uncles, and of course my sisters are my sisters. Much talking, laughing, arguing--er, disputation...the usual family sort of thing. DP was a bit overwhelmed at times (having been an only child), but she handled it well.

It was also a mini-vacation of sorts--no email, no phone calls, no preaching on Sunday (two weeks in a row, my vocal cords praise me)--and we stayed in a hotel, so we didn't have to make beds or cook dinner either!

And then I got up this morning, started up email, and listened to the voice mails. Boom! Back into the cyclone!

And that's what it feels like, or (to mix a metaphor) trying to pick up the reins again and get back into the rhythm of the congregation. It's not just the get-up-make-coffee-let-the-dog-out-let-the-dog-in-feed-the-dog-take-a-shower-go-to-the-office routine either. It's remembering what was going on with all the projects--the new search for new space for the church, the seminar I'm planning for March, the membership class later this month, the history panel last week that was taped and now needs to be edited, worship planning for Lent, working on the sermons for February--all of which I had going before I left. Now I have to get back on board with all of that. You wouldn't think I could forget it all in the course of four days, but apparently it's possible.

The problem is not doing all these things, or keeping track of them--I did that before I left for the weekend (and with a bad code, too -sniff, sniff). It's getting back into the rhythm without impaling myself on a knife or dropping a vase on my head.

And a-one, a-two, a-three...

Blah Blah Blah...

The US President gave his State of Union speech lest night. Sigh.

At least he recognized that the war is costing real people their lives. He had the widow and parents of a soldier who had been killed in Iraq in the gallery, right behind the First Lady. A couple of years ago, I remember being scandalized that he didn't even mention the war...let alone recognize the soldiers who were over there. I'm no hawk, but as an ex-military spouse (in a previous life), it rankled.

And his tired rhetoric about judges who "legislate from the bench." They interpret the law--that is their job.

And more of the same on the domestic wiretapping. I watched the speech on a Canadian network, CTV, and their camera zoomed in on Hilary Clinton, who was shaking her head ruefully. I am not always a big fan of hers, but she had it right this time.

And where did he get his figures on new jobs? The count must include seasonal (holiday) work, part-time, temporary, everything they could scrape together. We sure aren't seeing it in the part of the US closest to me! Right across the river, people are desperate for jobs, any jobs--and another large employer in the area just announced a plant closing...thousands more people looking for work. Lots of jobs? Show me, Mr. President.

What makes me angry is that the President can't seem to understand that the people who disagree with him do so with as much (if not more--but I won't go there) integrity as he defends his position. They are not all timeservers and politicians looking for a boost in the polls. I'm sure some of them are, but so are many people in the administration. But listening to him, his opponents are all manipulators of Machiavellian proportions. He demonizes them, which serves no-one, not even his own aims.

Feh. I'm going to go read something uplifting, like "Antagonists in the Church" or today's paper.

"Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" --Mary Oliver

I am a procrastinator. I excel at it, and am proud of it--well, not really. It means tasks take twice as long as they should, because it takes up so much time putting them off. So, in an attempt to improve myself, I read a book on procrastination, and one of the suggested exercises was to wrote down 101 things you wanted to get done, from "the laundry" to "repainting the family room" to "getting that advanced degree" to "finding a new job." The idea was that you could start with the smaller, shorter term things, succeed at those, break the larger projects into parts (look at decorating magazines to get ideas, visit the paint store to get some colour chips, choose a weekend, etc.). Then one day I saw the above quote on a friend's email. Taking it as my guide, I sat down and wrote up those 101 things that I wanted to do, but that I didn't want to lose in the busy-ness of living. Actually, I didn't quite get to 101, but I'm almost there.

Here, then, is an edited list:
Plan worship for the rest of the year
Plan ministry for next year
Organize attic, especially books
Organize books on shelves
Read books on To Be Read shelf
Get 1 women’s clergy shirt (I need one more to have a decent wardrobe of them)
Hang pictures (yes, we've been here more than a year and do not have all our pictures up yet)
Get floor lamp for living room
Musings on sermons for rest of year
Repaint stairs and hallways
Start walking program
Use library for books (instead of bookstore...)
Clean office bulletin board
Detailed outline of body theology book
Replace living room blinds
Clean out closet
Read books on list
Put out church newsletter every other month (it's chronically late)
Visit Toronto
Write history of River City's GLBT community
Create Coming-out Guide for River City youth
Write a devotional for each day and publish on church website
Post sermons on website
Visit Mom regularly
Earn PhD

As you see, they range from the sublime (write theological book, earn PhD) to the ridiculous (lamp for the living room? So head down to Post One and buy one, RP!).

So, what's on your list?

If you play, let me know!

Five on Friday!

I'm beginning to feel human again, but now my head is so stopped up, my ears want to pop, and all sound comes to me through a layer of cotton (at least, that's how it sounds!).

I don't have the energy to come up with my own topic this morning, so I'm leaning on RevGalBlogPals once again.

Today the meme is about books:

1. If you received books as holiday presents, how many and what were they?
Not this year, although I usually do. I asked for a couple--does that count? I'll repeat those requests for my birthday in a couple of months, too. We'll see what happens then.

2. Did you buy any for yourself, and if so what are the titles?
Yes, I did. Chapters (Canadian for Barn and Hobble or Hoarders) had a Boxing Day Sale and I picked up "Collapse: How Civilizations Choose to Succeed or Fail" by Jared Diamond (who wrote "Guns, Germs and Steel," about the impact of colonization). I also bought myself a datebook titled (I think) "Strong Women," which I love. Every week has a photo of a not-necessarily famous woman who did something amazing. Each day has an event in women's history (some landmark, some not-so). I use it in my office so everyone else can keep track of my appointments and meetings.

3. Have you read any of them yet? What's next on your list?
Well, you don't really read a datebook (although I have certainly browsed through it extensively!). I am almost finished with Collapse, and it's great. I'm trying to see if Diamond's principles for civilizations can be applied to individuals as well. Next on my list is finishing some books I'm in the middle of: Women Who Run With the Wolves (Clarissa Pinkola Estes, on freeing women); Summer Queen (science fiction by Joan Vinge); and Generation to Generation (? Friedman, on how churches and synagogues act like families).

4. Do you have a favorite place to read a new book? And does the weather have an impact on that choice?
When I was in college, in Ann Arbor, I used to reward myself after tests by going to Hoarders (the original, thank you very much)and purchasing a new Jane Austen/Charles Dickens/Wilkie Collins novel, then going around the corner to Drake's (of lamented memory) for hot chocolate, a grilled-cheese-and-tomato sandwich and a sampler box of their handmade chocolates... That is my definition of the best way to read a new book. However, that no longer being possible, my favourite place now is in the barrel chair in the living room with my down blanket over my lap and the dog on the edge of the blanket, with snow falling outside. Alternatively, I like sitting on the porch with my feet propped up and a glass of iced tea sweating at my side.

Does reading in bed make you sleepy?
Yes.

Your turn!

(Edited to add--I don't know how all the typos got in there! All gone now (I hope)!

(Edited again to correct the name of the datebook to "Women Who Dare" which is a much better title!)

Better? Maybe?

Well, I trudged on over to the doctor yesterday, and she says I have a sinus infection. She thinks. Anyway, got some antibiotics, cough syrup so I can sleep better at night, and some stronger pain meds for my back. And she sent me for a chest X-Ray. Results to be determined today. And that is where we stand--or sit, as the case may be.
I still sound like Mae West in a snit, but I'm not coughing so much, and I don't think I was hit by a Mack truck anymore.
Many thanks for all blogged good wishes...I wish I could take all the good advice about taking a day off. It's looking like maybe Saturday will be the day--or Friday if I'm lucky.
Now to all those meetings that keep me eating cough drops!

Now I Understand...

...why I felt so rotten the other day and had my very own UGH day... A terrible cold, which has left me sounding like Mae West on a bad day. My throat hurts, my sinuses hurt, even my back hurts (OK, that's from taking Christmas ornaments down and moving the boxes around, but still).

I think I'll ask the deacon to lead prayers and consecrate Communion today. I have another busy day tomorrow, with meetings and appointments all day that I really can't miss. I need my voice back!!

Five Pleasures...

Once again, taking my cue from RevGalBlogPals, here are my five pleasures (some small, some guilty, and some both):

1. Watching TV in bed. (small, guilty)

2. Pedicure/acrylic nails. (guilty)

3. Reading Jane Eyre and eating Stauffer's Mac n Cheese.(guilty)

4. Lighting all the scented candles in the house and enjoying the scents.(small)

5. Clean sheets (I had one friend who swore that if she ever won the lottery, she would use her winnings to pay for someone to come in every morning, wash the sheets, and put clean ones on, so that she would have clean fresh sheets every night) (small)

Those are only five of my small pleasures.I have many others: finding all the Reese's Peanut Cups in the Halloween candy; lemonade on a hot day; laughing with friends; finding a ten dollar bill in my pocket; waking up to the smell of coffee brewing and bacon frying; having my head massaged/shampooed when I go for a haircut; watching my cat "dance" as she plays with her catnip mouse; the sound of Mannheim Steamroller's Christmas music as snow falls gently outside; daffodils and tulips popping up out of the ground...

And then there are the larger pleasures--watching my son, at the age of five or six, playing on the keyboard, making the most amazing melodies; creating a garden out of a boring yard; reading a book and finding the author, unexpectedly, agrees with me and puts my opinion far more succinctly than I ever could; someone saying that the church has made a difference in her/his life.

There is much to be thankful for.

Ugh Day

I'm declaring today my own personal Ugh Day. I got nothing of importance accomplished, felt slow and draggy and incompetent all day, and ended up taking a nap in the middle of the afternoon, after which I managed to get one thing of importance done.

Blah.

I hate days like this--when I seem to have no energy, no motivation, no get-up-and-go--and yet I have to get up and go because there's much to do. I can't just take a day like this off, much as my instincts tell me to do so. I would be so far behind the next day!

Blah.

At least I got one thing done. And I'm hoping to get the tree down and ornaments put away tonight. That would be two things. That's better than nothing, I suppose. Perhaps I'll do something mindless, like update my address book. That would be useful--and it would make three things.

Blah.

Where Will You Go? Parts I-V

A few days ago, RevGalBlogPals asked the question, "What were five trips that made a difference in your life?" Being, as usual, slightly behind the power curve, I'm answering now.

Well, here goes!

In no particular order:

1. A seminary study trip to Poland, on which we examined Biblical exegesis and how it affects our theology in a very concrete way. We visited the Auschwitz and Birkenau concentration camps and the Treblinka extermination camp. As a contrast, and to learn about Polish culture, we also visited several palaces in Warsaw and toured the castle in Cracow. Every evening we had a debriefing, in which we discussed what we had seen, the contrasts between the history and the present and the terrible, terrible events of the Holocaust. It was a deep conflict for me--see below--between what I knew Germans had done, and the positive experiences I had had with modern Germans. We talked about the shades of grey, and how no one is all good or all bad--whether a nation or a person. We began to understand our role as pastors in fighting anti-Semitism and the link between that and all the other -isms and antis-s and phobias (sexism, homophobia, racism, etc.). It was a powerful ten days, and almost every hour of every day made an indelible impression that I will never forget.

2. Five years spent in Germany, in a wonderful Bavarian city. I came to know another culture from my own intimately and well. I still wax nostalgic over the food, architecture, parks, people, museums, music, festivals and general atmosphere of my adopted German home.

3. A week spent near Los Angeles with dear friends who totally spoiled DP and me--lovely home, refrigerator stocked just for us (all our favourite indulgences), loan of a luxury SUV with GPS system (which came in very handy!), company on a couple of day trips, eager ears on the other nights to hear our adventures, and hot coffee every morning waiting for us when we came downstairs (they're tea drinkers...). It felt like a week in Paradise, and it was a care-free week we needed badly at that point in our lives.

4. A week in Florida caring for my parents (who managed to both be injured at the same time). I had a lot of time away from my usual responsibilities at work, home, and church, and was able to sit and listen to God. God was saying the same thing God had been saying for a long time, but now I had time to hear it--and I responded to that call to ordained ministry. See what Florida will do to you!

5. The move to Canada! The drive itself was a nightmare--flat tire on the car trailer, a 30-foot moving truck jammed full, my car likewise, DP's car on the aforementioned trailer ditto, two cats and a dog, pouring rain on the turnpike, Canadian customs and immigration, unpacking one night and preaching my first sermon the next morning! But it's been an amazing year, and I'm loving what I'm doing!

There. Top five trips of my life--so far! We love to travel and will be doing more. There are so many places we haven't been to yet!

Hair! Lots of Beautiful Hair!

I got my hair cut last week.

That might not sound like much, but a friend of mine who is a stylist has been itching to get his hands on my scalp for almost a year now, and I’ve resisted. Why? Mostly because of cost—he’s one of the best stylists in the city and his prices reflect that. Also because he’s—well—high-style. Very Vogue and Glamour and so on, and I’m Just Not Like That! To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t sure I could live up to whatever style he gave me.

But another friend (Car Man) pointed out that The Stylist has been good to me in many ways, and very supportive of the church, as well as me personally, and perhaps I owed it to him to visit the shop and at least give him a chance.

So I did.

I told The Stylist I had three things for him to remember:
1. I don’t like to fuss with my hair. I’ll blow it dry sometimes (like on Sundays and for weddings and funerals), but I refuse to use a curling iron or any of that nonsense—I don’t have time. I don’t want to fuss with my hair every morning.
2. I like it clipped short on my neck, slightly longer on the back of my head. This is non-negotiable.
3. I wear glasses. I always wear my glasses (I’m practically blind without them). Whatever the style, it has to look decent with glasses, not stupid. I'm tired of having styles that look fine until I put my glasses on and then look like a geek's idea of hair style. Of course, having said that, I’m now considering going back to my contacts…

He looked at me sideways at first, when I told him I had three things he had to work with, but then he accepted them. He clipped and cut and turned me around while we discussed various activities in the community (we work together on a couple of projects and groups). And then he turned me back to the mirror, said, “Put on your eyes, sweetie,” and voila!

I like it! I really like it! It has shape to it and—dare I say—style! It’s very very short, much shorter in front than I have worn it for a very long time (perhaps ever). But it's a bit sassy (never did I think I would be saying that about myself in public), and yes, even cute.

DP thinks it’s too short. She’s not sure she likes it. I’m praying she comes around.

I’m sticking with it for the present (not that I have much choice, until it grows out). I’ve gotten many compliments on it (PF, church members, friends, etc.). I don’t even brush it anymore (orders from The Stylist), just run my fingers through it. Now that’s easy! If I want to, I blow it dry and it looks fuller. If I want to get really fancy I put some styling cream on it and dry it--it holds the hair in place and gives it a finish. For the first time in a long time, I really like my hair. It looks like it belongs to someone who isn’t clueless about style and how her hair looks to the general public.

The Stylist gets full marks for knowing what would look good on me. He listened, but then he was able to use my criteria and turn them into something that didn’t look like a hamster had died on my head (one cut I had made me look like a mutant poodle…). He gave my hair shape and attitude (and a bit of altitude). I have to say, I’m sold. He’s got my head for the foreseeable future.

Did I mention he has plans for colouring my hair?

Brokeback Mountain—review

DP and I went to see Brokeback Mountain this weekend with a group of friends. I had read the short story when it was published in The New Yorker and had thought it amazing—an incredible moving story, and amazing that a mainstream magazine had published it. So I really wanted to see how well it had transplanted to the screen. I had some confidence in Larry McMurtry, one of the screenwriters, but I was still uncertain. And the reviews were so mixed—some praising it, others seemingly so caught up in homophobia that the movie became unwatchable (for them). So I knew I wanted to see this for myself.

It was, in a word, stunning.

First, a brief plot summary in case you’ve been living under a rock and haven’t heard. Two down-on-their-luck ranchers are hired to watch a herd of sheep summering on US Forest Service land in the Montana mountains in the early 1960s. They fall in love, much against their conditioning, and begin a relationship. After the summer is over, they go their separate ways—Ennis to marry Alma, and Jack to go back to bull-riding in the rodeo, where he meets and marries the daughter of a wealthy farm machinery dealer. Six years later Jack contacts Ennis. They go off “fishing” together, and find that their connection is as strong as it was that summer six years ago. For the next twenty years, they “go fishing” or “elk hunting” several times. And always, they come to the same conclusion—this is all they can have, these furtive meetings at long intervals. They are married, they fear the opprobrium of society if they buy a ranch together (Jack’s dream). In the end, all Ennis has is his memories and the view of Brokeback Mountain.

The simplest first—the scenery (which I think was Alberta—Canada once again standing in for the US West) was incredible—starkly beautiful, huge and open. The cinematography let you take it in, let it become part of the story, as in fact Brokeback Mountain is, without letting the mountains and sky take over.
Then there’s the acting. One of the things I appreciated about Annie Proulx’s story was that she showed everybody’s pain—not just Jack and Ennis’s pain, but that of the wives and the children. It wasn’t simply a matter of “poor Ennis and Jack, in love and unable to show it,” which is tragedy enough. Proulx also showed the pain of Alma—who loved Ennis but knew he could never love her, and that he had a side to him that she found repugnant and she could not accept. We see that pain—Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllanhaal did a wonderful job of that. And their love scenes are equally well-done. I have read in a couple of interviews with Mr. Ledger that they did not rehearse those scenes, plan them out—“OK, Jack does this, and then Ennis does that.” They simply let them flow. It says a great deal for these two (straight) actors that they were able to infuse these scenes with the tenderness and love they called for without squeamishness or calling for body doubles or planning them to the point of vapidity. And one of the scenes is pretty graphic, by the way—you are left in no doubt that this relationship has a physical component to it!

Heath Ledger is especially amazing. Ennis is a man of few words, so Ledger can’t use his speeches to convey Ennis’s character. When Ennis does speak, you learn about him—but you learn as much or more when he is silent—from the way he touches a shirt, or eats his pie, or carefully stubs out a cigarette for future reuse. This is brilliant.
The audience surprised me, too. I hadn’t thought there would be much of a crowd, even in Canada, even for a movie with a lot of hype, even for a Heath Ledger movie, when it was about a pair of gay cowboys. I was wrong. Not only was the theatre full, the audience was totally sympathetic. There were no disgusted moans at Jack and Ennis’s first kiss, and there was total silence during their first sexual encounter. The only loud reactions came at junctures when you would expect them—when Alma witnesses Jack and Ennis’s reunion kiss, unseen by the men; at the gruesome shot of a disembowelled sheep (done by a coyote); and so on. There was a real sympathy for Ennis and Jack.

Most of all, I think, I was stunned by the way in which the story was told. It wasn’t played sentimentally, or luridly, or histrionically, or leeringly. Ang Lee simply gave us a narration and let us draw our own conclusions.

My conclusions?

In a more perfect world, there would be no homophobia, internalized or otherwise. If Jack and Ennis had felt from the beginning that they could share their lives, live together, be a couple, the pain of many of those around them would have been much less. As a result, Ennis and Alma would not have married, they would not have suffered the pain that they did. Jack and his wife also would not have gone through what they did. There would not have been the secretiveness, the hiding, the deception that, in the end, couldn’t last.

My hope is that straight people who see this movie will glean an understanding of the damage homophobia wreaks on real lives, in the small everyday things as well as the larger, life-altering ways. I hope, too, that lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgendered people who see it will understand how far we have come in many ways, and how far we still have to go. There are places in the world, in the US, where things have not changed much from the way they're shown in 1960s Montana. There are places where society is very different. Let us be glad for the changes, and work for continued change.

Uh-Oh...

You scored as Pelagianism. You are a Pelagian. You reject ideas about man's fallen human nature and believe that as a result we are able to fully obey God. You are the first Briton to contribute significantly to Christian thought, but you're still excommunicated in 417. Are you a heretic? created with QuizFarm.com

I'm in trouble now... But then, what else is new?

On the other hand, my runner-up was Chalcedon-compliant! And I am definitely not a Docetist or Albigensian! Or Donatist, for that matter.

Ups and Downs

Yeah, OK, so it’s been a while…TO’s visit, trying to get caught up with beginning of the year things—but now I’m (mostly) caught up and ready to roll!

It’s been a Tale of Two Cities week—the best of times and the worst of times, all in the same few days.

On the plus side, I cleaned out (mostly) my filing cabinet (no small chore, I assure you), had friends come over for dinner (we laughed for about three hours straight—well, as straight as we can), and had lunch with a friend from high school whom I haven’t seen for years. That was marvellous—it was as if we had seen each other a few months before, not almost 25 years. HSF (High School Friend) is as much fun now as he was then, and his partner and their son are delightful. High school friends in a way are like siblings, because they both knew you in your less-than-pretty stages! You don’t have to explain things to them as much, because you were both formed by the same things, or at least you saw each other formed, and so you know why they act the way they do. Anyway, it was a wonderful day!

On the down side, of course, was the sad saga of the West Virginia miners. I’m not related to any miners, I’ve never lived in mining country. The closest I’ve come is that some of my fellow-students in seminary were student pastors to mining communities, and I heard some of their stories. And yet this story grabbed me and wouldn’t let me go. All week, through the minor crises and joys of my own life, I watched and listened to the news, saddened when the first lone body was discovered (and is anything sadder than the sister-in-law of the deceased saying stoically, she-roically, “We thought it was him before we were told that it was; it’s where he would be, to do his job, and he always did his job”?), then elated at the first news of survival Tuesday night, then waking Wednesday morning, shocked, to the stunning truth. I’m still trying to figure it out. You would think that after my visit to concentration camps in 2001, 9/11, the war in Iraq and Afghanistan, the tsunami last year, and Katrina and the earthquakes in Pakistan this year (not to mention the wildfires that threatened a friend’s home in California, the current wildfires, the mudslides, the terrorist bombings in Indonesia and elsewhere) and all the assorted other disasters, that it would all be ho-hum, or at best a detached interest. But I found myself teary-eyed when that first miner’s body was discovered, and crying when the rumour came through that the other 12 were alive. I cried again the next morning when I found it wasn’t true, and I’ve been teary again watching the family of Mr. McCloy on TV.

So what does it all boil down to? I’ve found myself repeating my Christmas Eve sermon again and again.

“We are not alone; we live in God’s world.” As long as I can hold onto that, as long as I remember that there will be a tomorrow—and not a Little Orphan Annie tomorrow either—but a tomorrow in which God is still present, still loving this world, then I can face the griefs and fears of today and tomorrow as well. And I can face the joys and good surprises and hopes, too—because “we are not alone. We live in God’s world.”

Serving Stephen

Acts 7:54-60
When the people heard these things, they became enraged and ground their teeth at Stephen. But filled with the Holy Spirit, he gazed into heaven and saw the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. "Look," he said, "I see the heavens opened and the Human One standing at the right hand of God!" But they covered their ears, and with a loud shout all rushed together against him. Then they dragged him out of the city and began to stone him; and the witnesses laid their coats at the feet of a young man named Saul. While they were stoning Stephen, he prayed, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit." Then he knelt down and cried out in a loud voice, "Lord, do not hold this sin against them." When he had said this, he died.

Wow. What a powerful moment for the new Church. One of their own, one of their dearest, the deacon Stephen, pays for his faith with his life. And Saul—soon to be known as Paul—is there as well. It’s like a scene from a serial movie or a murder mystery—this person Saul will become very important to the church indeed—but in a different way than what you expect…

Stephen the deacon. When I began the long journey towards ordination, there were two questions I had to answer to the satisfaction of the committees that interviewed me. The first was, “Is your call to professional ministry? Or can you fulfill your call as a lay person?” This was a very important question, especially since I was a second career pastor. And it is true that there are many people who begin the process towards ordination because others—friends, a trusted pastor, family—encourage them, whether or not the person really feels the call. So that was the first question. The second was just as important, although it might nor seem so at first glance. “Are you called to ordained ministry or to the diaconate?” In the United Methodist Church, the difference is subtle—deacons may lead worship, preach, and teach, but they cannot consecrate the Communion elements, baptize, or marry people. Of course, there are exceptions when a deacon is appointed to act as pastor, but most deacons are never in that position. Deacons are called to a specific kind of service—Christian education, music ministry, administration, youth ministry, and so on. Also, most deacons must find their own positions—they are not appointed to a church as ordained pastors (elders) are. So for me, going through the process in the United Methodist Church, this was a serious question.

I quickly learned the correct answers to the questions about ordained vs. diaconal calling—that diaconal service is a different calling, not better or worse, higher or lower, but simply different. That we all have different gifts, and some of us are gifted with the graces for diaconal service, and some for ordained ministry.

Stephen the martyr. In England, St. Stephen’s Day was traditionally the day boys went out and shot wrens—an echo of Stephen’s martyrdom. Today in Britain and Canada and other Commonwealth countries, it is Boxing Day—the day when you give boxes—gifts—to the post person, to the newspaper deliverer, and so on (it used to be the servant, but nowadays most of us don’t have any).

And that somehow is appropriate. On the day when we remember the death of the disciple who served others, we thank the ones who help us during the year. Who helps you? The people who have helped me over the years--have served me, if you will--include my son’s day care provider, the dry cleaner who is always cheerful, bank teller who remembers to ask me about the church, the server at Tim Horton’s who knows my order by heart (large double double and chocolate chocolate frosted doughnut, if you’re curious). It’s not that I’m better than they are, and so they serve me. It is simply their job. And when the teller comes to church, I serve her. When the dry cleaner needs an ear, and I listen, I’m serving him.

Because the truth is, we all serve each other—or should. Jesus said, “Serve each other.” He gave us the example by washing his disciples’ feet before that last meal together.

Do we allow others to serve us? Or are we so sure that we can do it all ourselves, and that it’s others who need help, never us, that don't let someone else do for us? Are we so arrogant that we cannot accept a gift from someone? I have learned that sometimes the greatest gift is simply accepting the gift.

So serve. And just as importantly, allow yourself to be served.

Christmas Eve Sermon, 2005

Our readings tonight have one theme, one message: Hope. The prophets of Israel, despairing in their exile, hoped for God to bring them out of the foreign land and return them home. We hope to be rid of the demons that haunt us, that make our days unhappy and our nights unsleeping, to remember that our children, whether of our body or of our heart, are still worth loving. We hope that our lives, too, obscure though they may seem, are not useless or in vain.

And behold, our hope is not idle. Our hope has been answered—through the birth of a child, God made flesh, God come to earth to be with us. Emmanuel—God is with us. Can anything be more wonderful than this? God came to be with us in a shape we could recognize. We are never without God—God is very present with us, always. But sometimes, our human eyes cannot see God as clearly as we would like to, as well as God would like us to see God. And so God came to be with us for a little while, as a human being.

And that’s what we celebrate tonight—not the shepherds and the angels and the candles and the tree, certainly not the presents and cookies and eggnog and fancy clothes. We celebrate the fact that our creator loves us, God wants us to know God—and so God came to us. “For God so loved the world…” For God so loved us.

Soon after DP and I moved here, we found a tract on our car windshield. One of those small pamphlets, I think you can get them fifty for five dollars or something. It was stuck under the windshield wiper, and the title read, “Certainly you may do as you wish.” The writer was trying to convince the reader to go to church instead of sailing or playing golf or playing roulette or horseback riding—at least, I’m assuming those were the alternatives to church, from the pictures on the cover. Anyway, there was some language in the booklet that made me nervous—“your soul could be required of you at any time,” “you have made choices about how to spend your life,” “sometimes we are selfish and rebel against God,” that sort of thing. I had no idea if there was a person in the neighbourhood who made a habit of putting those on cars, or if it was directed specifically at us, if we had a homophobic neighbour. I asked our neighbours who are also a lesbian couple, and they said they had gotten one or two, but they didn’t know if they had been targeted either, or if the tracts had simply been placed on all the cars that happened to be parked on the street at the time when the person was placing them. When the tract appeared a second time, I talked to PF (Pastor Friend), who had been very welcoming and supportive. Dear PF! He didn’t think it meant anything, and was very reassuring and comforting—remember, DP and I were still getting to know this place and our neighbours. For all we knew, we had a homophobe down the street. So we decided to keep an eye out and see who else—if anyone—got a tract next time one appeared on our car.

A few days later, after my office hours were over, I went out to my car. There was something on my windshield, tucked under the wiper, wrapped in plastic. It was a small booklet.

“We are not alone. We live in God’s world,” it began. And it went on.

“We are not alone, we live in God's world. We believe in God: who has created and is creating, who has come in Jesus, the Word made flesh, to reconcile and make new, who works in us and others by the Spirit. We trust in God. We are called to be the Church: to celebrate God's presence, to live with respect in Creation, to love and serve others, to seek justice and resist evil, to proclaim Jesus, crucified and risen, our judge and our hope. In life, in death, in life beyond death, God is with us. We are not alone. Thanks be to God.”

It was a child’s book of the United Church of Canada’s creed. Tucked into the front was PF’s card, with a note of encouragement. He had left me a gift, a sweet taste to take away the alarming bitter flavour of the tract, and he left it on my windshield to remind me that people who wish me well are watching me also. And do you know, I have never found another one of the tracts on my car?

We are not alone. God is with us. In the coldest and most fearful of times, when everything seems too much—when you are in exile, or when those demons of fear seem about to overwhelm you, when you don’t know if what you are doing is worthwhile, when you don’t know why you bother, when you don’t know who is friend and who is not—remember. God loves us so much, God is with us. We are not alone.

This is what we celebrate at Christmas—God’s presence with us, now, tonight, and forever.

In the many names of the one loving Creator, amen.

Another Woman!

Exciting news! My niece, who is expecting in early June, had her ultrasound this week, and she's expecting a girl! Another girl to add to my overwhelmingly female family! I'm one of five sisters, and three of my sisters have only girls (seven between them). With my mother, that's fourteen wonderful women! (Checking my math here--five sisters plus seven daughters is twelve plus a grand niece is thirteen plus my mother is fourteen. Yep, it's right!) And if you want to go back a generation, my grandmother (my mother's mother) had two sisters and no brothers, so that's three more women...

Life is good.

Tuesday Evening...

and Commander in Chief's not on! Darn...I was hoping for some relaxation and entertainment tonight. Instead I'll have to do some work. But I can procrastinate a little longer by blogging, right?

DP and I got our Visitor's Record renewed today. Quite easy, once they've (Canada Immigration, that is) decided it's close enough to the expiration of your previous document (see Exciting Canadian Politics entry, below). Drove to the US, drove back, told the nice Customs and Immigration man we needed to renew our VR's, he sent us into the Immigration Office, we showed the nice clerk our papers, she agreed we were eligible to stay another year, she did the paperwork, we got our new VRs, we drove home. All done!

I survived our annual congregational meeting. I'm not exactly up on Robert's Rules of Order, which is how the meeting is run. Other people are up on RRO, and let me know (nicely) when I wander. All the business of the church was taken care of for a year, including the election of a new Board of Administration (thank you, God, for the Holy Spirit moving among the members!).

I'm feeling very tired. I'm not sure why. There's the usual busy-ness of the season, of course, and the added stresses of being a pastor at this time of year (and don't I resent people who do their Christmas shopping all year and are done already? Yes, I do--unreasonably, perhaps, but I do). I have a lot to do, what with getting the Christmas and New Year's worship services ready, preparing for next year (worship, administration, etc.), my own personal Christmas with DP and TO, various meetings and appointments (and the usual clergy meetings and luncheons are doubly important in December)...But the thing is, I'm not feeling motivated. I just want to curl up with a good book (Jane Austen springs to mind), a cup of tea and a cheese sandwich, and let the world go away.

Unfortunately, it won't go away.

So maybe if I'm more disciplined--get the work done instead of procrastinating, then I won't feel so overwhelmed. Shoot, I'm making sense. Must be time to get some work done.

Somebody Pushed My Button!

I was reading another blog, and a response to the blog got me going... So look out below, I'm on my hobbyhorse and rocking away!

The comment was on demographically focused devotionals, worship, etc. Such things as A Women's Devotional, or the Metropolitan Community Church (MCC), a church founded in the gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered community, or even Promisekeepers. One commenter took exception to such things, saying that all Christians should be one, and such things are divisive. My blogger acquaintance responded that such things are needed because marginalized groups do not always feel at home in the larger church.

Let's look at the Methodist Church. Back in the early 1800s, in a church in Philadelphia, the black members were not allowed Communion until all the white members had received, thus insuring that the white folks got Communion, while sometimes there was not enough for the black folks, to say nothing of the attitude thus indicated. The black members finally had enough and went off to form their own church--the African Methodist Episcopal Church, or AME.

Now, some might say that they had no right to do that--they were in the church, and receiving Communion, and members... But they weren't really accepted, were they? They were regarded in fact, of not in the letter, as second-class members. But God has no second-class children.

The simple fact is that different groups in society have different reasons for wanting their own denominations or congregations within those denominations. Sometimes it's cultural/ethnic/language, as with the Latino Methodist churches, or Korean Methodist, or Vietnamese Catholic churches (I once lived five minutes from Our Lady of Vietnam Roman Catholic Church, three blocks from St. John the Baptist Roman Catholic Community; there was room for both). Or the MCC. Or the AME.

The fault is not that of the marginalized groups--they are seeking God, and want to worship God and follow Christ. But the institutional church, the human church, is preventing them. And so they find their own ways to worship.

Personal history: God called me to ministry when I was a member of a United Methodist Church. I (eventually) responded, went to seminary, graduated after five years, was appointed (as probationary elder) to a charge, and led a very hurting congregation towards wholeness over the course of a year. But also during that year, I realized that aspects of myself I had thought I could hide forever would not be hidden. I was less of a pastor for hiding parts of me and lying about it. And so I came out as a bisexual woman, went through a divorce, and left the United Methodist Church. I didn't leave because I was angry at the United Methodist Church, but because they would not allow me to answer my call within the UMC. In effect, I was forced to choose--God or the UMC. I chose God.

I am disappointed in the UMC (and other denominations, but the UMC is the one that touched my life). I was a lifelong UM--parents married there, myself baptized and confirmed there, heard my call there, went to a Methodist seminary, etc. And yet, when it came down to the difficult questions, they (the institution) could not see me as an equal child of God with my straight classmates at seminary or my straight colleagues in ministry.

We, the marginalized, are not asking for special treatment. We're asking for equal treatment. Our lives are often ignored in the sermons we hear, in the music we sing, and in the prayers we pray. If worship does not speak to our hopes and fears, it cannot reach our hearts and inspire us to reach for God.

The Bone People, by Keri Hulme

I've been meaning to comment on this, since I mentioned rereading it and wondering if it would be as good the second time around. Well, it was.

This is one of those books that you start out reading, you're a bit confused, you take your time with the first fifty pages or so, trying to sort out who's who and what's going on. This was especially true for me, since a great deal of the book's power is in the emphasis on Maori culture, which I am woefully ignorant of. Then you really get into it and you start reading obsessively, desperate to find out What's Going to Happen. And then It happens, and you get depressed, and don't want to read anymore, except that you've started to fall in love with this characters, and you need to know how they get themselves out of this situation. And so you finish it.

Most of it is very good, well-written, excellent characterization and descriptive writing that makes you feel as if you are in New Zealand. The plot is fairly good--a couple of odd twists, but hey, what do I know of the cultural norms in an isolated town in New Zealand (see above, re: Maori culture)? However, the ending is a bit too pat, and while it's emotionally satisfying, it's artistically disappointing.

That said, however, find it and read it anyway. Powerful reading for a snowy weekend. Bet you'll find yourself Googling for Maori info before the weekend's over!

Past Lives

I'm hopelessly addicted to those silly online quizzes--what's your personality? If you were on the series "Friends," which character would you be? etc. But I liked the result on this one! I was a belly dancer! Good thing, cause it's never happening in this life!

In a Past Life...

You Were: A Gorgeous Belly Dancer. Where You Lived: Argentina. How You Died: Suicide.

Who Were You In a Past Life?

Snowy Friday!

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas around the RP household! Not only did I get ambitious yesterday and haul down three boxes of Christmas decorations (which now adorn the house), but I've been playing Christmas music on the stereo and--it snowed five inches last night! Our neighbor's teeny tiny evergreen looks like a Christmas card with the snow on its branches perfectly rounded and smooth. It just needs a tiny cardinal or bunny to make it complete. It almost makes me want to go Christmas shopping!
DP has discovered a shop in town that sells goods from the Third World, with proceeds going directly back to the artisans. Finances aren't going to permit a lot of gifts this year, but I plan on visiting it for most of the gifts I do give. I wonder if they have anything for a 17-year old boy? TO's list is mostly electronic this year. Sigh.

Top Christmas CDs in my special Christmas CD box:

• Mannheim Steamroller (several of theirs; they have a great catalog too, and I lust after their parka!)
• Handel: A Soulful Celebration (a reinterpretation of the Messiah--great stuff!)
• Chicago: Christmas (an unforgettable rendition of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town")
• Natalie Cole Christmas
• Sax Winterlude
• John Rutter's Christmas Music (one of my favorite modern sacred music composers)

Other random thoughts:
I'm not preaching this Sunday; our host pastor and his wife (also a pastor) are going to preach a dialogue sermon. It's wonderful how things worked out--I had asked him to preach for me because we have a bingo event on Sunday afternoon after church, and I'll need to be fairly alert, thus need to conserve energy (and preaching takes it out of me!). He and his wife rarely get to preach together, and so this is an opportunity for them as well. See? Benefits all around!
Because I have this Sunday off, I was hoping to use the extra time this week to get ahead of things--plan worship for January, select Scriptures for the year, start the sermon for week after next, that sort of thing. Did not work (see above, with home decorating and snow to be shoveled). I've gotten some other planning done, however. And I keep reminding myself, it's not always possible to finish every job all at once. Sometimes you work on something for a little while, then come back to it later, especially if you're waiting for input from someone else. It's the waiting, I guess.
So I guess I'll work on the Scriptures for a while, then the sermon,. Maybe neither one will be finished, but they'll be closer to it than they are now--and closer than they would be if I didn't do anything at all!

World AIDS Day

It's December 1, World AIDS Day. I remember when AIDS first showed up (then called GRID) in the public consciouness, as I was working in medical libraries at the time, so the doctors would want information on it, and we'd do a computer search on AIDS and get "finding aids," and grant information--but very little on AIDS itself.

MCC really came to the consciousness of many in the GLBT community in those early years--often an AIDS patient's own clergyperson wouldn't come, for fear of infection, or of seeming to condone their "lifestyle" (ahhh, don't get me started), so the hospital staff would call the local MCC, if there was one. A friend of mine who was in active ministry in the 80's went through a period of months where she officiated at 2-3 funerals a week. When the pace was slower, it was 2-3 a month. For comparison, when I served a small rural church with an aging congregation, I performed 3 funerals in one year.

Even now, when we can see that the majority of infections worldwide are through heterosexual contact, so many in the US want to stigmatize it as a "gay disease" or as something that those who are infected somehow brought on themselves through infidelity. And yet so many of the people infected are women whose (male) partners have had unsafe sex (whether with women or other men). And what about the children? And those (fewer now) who received blood or blood products in the years before we had tests? 17 years ago, when my son was born by cesarean, I had a special bracelet on my wrist, in addition to the hospital ID bracelet and the one matching my son's bracelet. That special bracelet warned staff that I had received blood transfusions (almost twenty years earlier), and they should use precautions when handling my bodily fluids.

And I think of those people who say that AIDS is God's pronouncement of doom on the gay community, and I want to laugh. Because, after all, the lowest rate of infections (and there are some) is among lesbians!

Not all is gloom. We have lost some talented and beautiful people, whole regions have been basically deserted, and the human race is the poorer. But there is hope. New medications have be developed, people are living longer and longer with AIDS, and sero-converting later and later. People living with AIDS (PWA) are dying of other things--heart disease, lung cancer. It sounds odd to see that as a victory, but it used to be that anyone who received a diagnosis of HIV stopped at the lawyer's on the way home and made sure the will was in order. I would love it if all my friends who are HIV+ or living with AIDS outlived me. They are all wonderful men (as it happens, all men), who have supported me in some rough times and celebrated with me in some great times. I cannot imagine the world without them.

Keep the promise--stop AIDS.