Friday Five: Ways to Relax

Just in time for the weekend, here's the RevGalBlogPals Friday Five--on relaxing.

Four ways I take a break or relax:

1. Read a good book. Not a professional book, not preparation for the next Bible study, not the one that my mentor recommended, but a fun book, on a topic that interests and absorbs me. Preferably done with a mug of a hot beverage (winter) or on the porch with iced tea (summer).

2. When I could afford it, I used to have a manicure every other week; and once every six weeks or so, a pedicure. I loved having hands that looked nice and toes that were clipped, and it was so nice to just sit and think of nothing. Also, the pedicure chairs were massaging… And in connection with an earlier Matriarch question—one family (at a previous church) gave me a gift certificate for a manicure/pedicure package for Christmas. Now THAT was appreciated!

3. This is much like No.1: bookstore or library browsing. Just wandering, looking at all the different books, reading a chapter or two here or there, trying to remember the title of the book someone mentioned last week that sounded good…sneaking in a little “guilty pleasure” in the “true crime” section…checking out the latest feel-good title in the Christianity section. It’s all good. And if I can keep myself from buying any of them, so much the better!

4. Games, usually on the computer. The thing is, though, I feel guilty, like I’m wasting time instead of taking a break. At least with the other three items, I can at least feel like I’ve accomplished something—polished nails, read a book, etc. But what do I have at the end of a long session of Mah Jongg? Zip, except maybe feeling a bit relaxed. Which tells me maybe I need to find another way to relax.

One way I would like to try relaxing:

Regular massage. I have a friend who is a massage therapist, and when I visit, I get a freebie ½ hour (we’ve been friends for forty years now…that earns a free one, I think!). I would love to have that experience on a regular basis, say weekly, an hour at a time. I once heard a pastor I respect greatly say that he trusted in the Holy Trinity: his psychotherapist, his doctor, and his massage therapist. Between the three, he felt they kept his mind, body and spirit in balance.

What I did to relax once upon a time:

Ride my bike. We lived near a forest with paved paths, and I loved to bicycle through it. Exercise, out of the house, fresh air—all good things

Dance. I used to do Jazzercise ™ and I would also just dance when we were out for the evening. I could use my knee injury last summer and my (ahem) injury more recently as excuses, but it’s been longer ago than that since I stopped.

Meditate or pray. Fact is, I’m so chronically short on sleep I’m afraid I might fall asleep if I stopped and closed my eyes!

Write. I do blog (obviously!!), but not as often as I would like. And I do have those books in my head that I keep talking about. And then there are prayers and poems and stories rattling around, too.

So—one of the ways I do relax is not really making me happy. Time to get out of that rut! Clearly I need to get more exercise, and I need to reconnect to the other things that I used to enjoy. Right now, other things are taking my energy and likely to for a few weeks—but by spring, perhaps I’ll be able to add a few of those used-tos, and maybe even the wish-I-could!

Time Management

(I wrote this Saturday, but such was my state of mind that it never made it to Blogger...so here it is, a few days late...)

Well, in a sermon-procrastinating move, I want to talk about time and how pastors use it. Or more accurately, how our congregations perceive we use time—or abuse it.

We’ve all heard how many members think that pastors work one day a week, Sunday, when all they have to do is read a sermon and drink some coffee in the social hour, and maybe do a few hospital calls during the week. I don’t think very many people really think that, at least, not any more.

However, I have met people who think that 20 hours a week is plenty of time for a pastor to do all that s/he has to do for a congregation. Again, shuffle a few papers, go to a meeting or two, write a sermon (that only takes a couple of hours, right?), talk to the musician, and there you go. Done, right? Even people who should know better often fall into this mistake, through sheer lack of thinking about what a pastor does.

I try to keep close track of what I do everyday (it’s why I need the two-page-per-day Day Timer, in paper, please)—so that I can point to Thursday and show an hour’s worth of email responses, three hours on the sermon, a two-hour community meeting, and two hours of preparation for Christian Ed. Of course, that doesn’t show the phone calls during the sermon preparation or the conversation with a church member during the research for Christian Ed that lasted ten minutes but reassured them.

Pastors’ lives are not easily parceled out like other professionals. A lawyer or accountant or psychiatrist can show a full appointment book, or time spent on a certain client’s case (one hour on Smith, two and a quarter on Jones). A doctor has appointments, and so many patients seen each office day. A teacher has classroom time and preparation time—although these do run together sometimes. But how to divide out a pastor’s time? How to demonstrate that the time recorded as spent on a certain activity really was spent that way? Meetings and appointments are easy—the minutes or memories of others present will show that the pastor really was there and the appointment did last for an hour. But sermon prep? Or for classes?

Part of the difficulty may be because “sermon prep” isn’t easy to separate from everything else we do. The people we see, the magazines we read, the shows we watch on TV, a movie, a book, a conversation—they spark and inspire our sermons, they give us a lead into what we want to say. And often when we sit down to actually write, the words don’t come, and we struggle for hours to get a couple of paragraphs on paper. And so when people say, “That sermon took you eight hours to write?” we cringe, because we know we should have spent ten or twelve or however many is our personal standard. But what they mean is, “How could you have spent so much time and come up with so little?”

I have often wished that every Board member or prospective Board member, or any member, for that matter, could “shadow” me for a day, just to see what it is I really do, and how I do it.

Which brings me to a related point. Some mentors have suggested posting office hours, so that members know when they can reach you. Others say that’s a bad idea, because then if you get called out or have an appointment outside the building, and you’re not there “when you said you would be,” there’s unhappiness. I have heard various percentages held up as the ideal amount of time to have office hours (15%, 40%, whatever). Of course, if you are lucky enough to have a good church secretary, some of this is eased. A good secretary (and I was blessed with one when I was an intern) will protect you and your office hours. But many of us aren’t that lucky.

I don’t want to go as far as one pastor I know, who lists office hours, and what she will be doing during them (i.e., Monday—off, Tuesday—Office 11-2, 3-5, Wednesday—Sermon preparation, etc.). On the other hand, to leave people with no idea of when they can reach you, or when you might be available to them, doesn’t seem right either. So I personally settle for something in between—I state my office hours, but caution people to call first as I “may have been called out of the office.”

I won’t even go into the whole issue of boundaries, and how many hours we work vs how many hours we are paid to work…

Friday Five--The Journalist's Questions!

Who
Me

What
A sermon

When
Today

Where
At the dining room table because the bench is more comfortable for my—injury.

Why
Ummmm. Ultimately, because God called me to this work. More immediately, because that’s what my contract calls for.

Bonus How
I wish I knew!

Inching Through the Week...

Still hurting Wednesday, so went to the walk-in clinic (I had called my doctor and the receptionist chirped, "The doctor can see you Monday!"). The clinic doctor pointed out that even if my tailbone is cracked/broken, it can't exactly be put in a cast. She recommended soft pillows to sit on and lots of Motrin.

She offered no advice about how to bend over (to pick up the cat food bowls, or to do the laundry, or to get a book off the bottom shelf), to get upstairs (or down), in and out of a car, or any of the other things I used to take for granted and will not now. She was, however, very sympathetic--I have a feeling I'm not the only person she's seen with this complaint this week, after the ice we had over the weekend.

And exciting news--the church is on the front page of the local GLBT paper! We're celebrating our 19th anniversary this weekend, and the reporter who was invited to cover the dinner was intrigued by the idea that lots of US couples cross the border to be married in Canada, and come to us. One of the couples I married recently was interviewed, and an opinion piece I wrote in response to one of his interview questions was printed separately, as a "Viewpoint" column. Used a terrible photo of me, although we sent him a better one... But it's very exciting, because the paper wants to extend its coverage in River City, so we get to ride on those coattails.

And DP is coming home tonight...

Pain and Irritation

Well, I’m reflecting today on how little things can make a big difference.

See, we had freezing rain here in River City Saturday night into Sunday morning. I peeked out the window Sunday morning about nine as I was preparing to go to Landlord Church for a preaching gig. It looked like wet pavements, dripping trees, etc.—in other words, the freezing part was over and the rain part had begun. Forgetting that cement doesn’t warm up very quickly, I started down the front steps with briefbag over my shoulder, umbrella in one hand, and prop for the children’s story in the other hand. You will have noticed, I’m sure, that I did not leave a hand for the railing on the way down.

Indeed, I slid handle over teakettle down those fireplacing steps, hitting every one of the four of them on the way down. When the world stopped bouncing, I had a wet tush (from the wet steps), strained muscles in my shoulders, back, and neck (from trying to catch myself) and a bruised tailbone (from guess what). By the end of the day, I could barely walk, let along haul myself up the stairs to bed (see strained shoulders).

All this is not to garner sympathy (well, maybe a little). But after all, there are a lot of people with worse health issues than mine out there. I can handle it—I’ll get better in a day or so.

The thing is, such a minor thing as a bruised tailbone makes a huge difference in how I look at things today.

I had planned some closet cleaning, dog grooming, and laundry for today. None of those things are going to happen, because I cannot haul clothes in and out of the closet, I cannot carry the laundry basket up and down the stairs, and I most certainly cannot get down on the floor to groom the dog (they would find my skeleton in the spring, brush in one hand and clippers in the other, desperately reaching for the counter in order to pull myself up).

My back-up plan, as of last night, was to work on sermons for the next couple of weeks. My shoulders vetoed the hunched-over-the-computer thing. They are complaining about blogging, in fact.

So how about reading? Nope—there’s no comfortable position that will also allow me to hold a book and read.

It’s a minor thing, this pain—just some really bad aches, in fact. But they are such bad aches I’m pretty much motionless. I’ve had worse pain—but it’s never been so inconvenient. I am newly awakened to sympathy for those who have severe arthritis and back problems.

Those of you who can move easily, who are pain-free, whose loved ones are pain-free, rejoice!

The rest of us will take our Advil and lie quietly.

Friday Five—Living Five Countdown…

Reverend Elder Troy Perry, founder, Universal Fellowship of Metropolitan Community Churches

In the spirit of the RevGalBlogPals Friday Five Countdown, here are five people (all of them living, as far as I know) whom I admire. Some names have been changed, because I cannot contact those people and ask them if it’s OK to use them…

5. Mom
My mother is an amazing woman. If she reads this (and I think she does from time to time) she’ll probably be embarrassed, but I admire her greatly. Twice in her life she was a single mother, once in very painful circumstances, but she raised all five of us (myself and four sisters) with grace, integrity and a sense of possibility. When I got married, I left university to do so. Many of my friends said I would never be able to go back. They didn’t know the values Mom instilled in us—be the most that you are capable of, do the best job possible, know who you are and live up to that ideal. It’s a measure of her success as a parent that all five of us think we’re her secret favourite. When fundanuts pontificate about a child needing two parents, I think of my mother. She did good.

4. Dave Jones (not his real name)
Part of the process of ordination in my denomination requires a team to work with the candidate—identifying each candidate’s challenges, helping the candidate to work through these, supporting the candidate through prayer and presence, and so on. It’s not a light thing to ask someone to be on your team. I came into a church where the only person I knew besides the pastor had just moved (to the other coast), and I needed to find some people to serve on my team. My moving-away friend said, “You want Dave on your team. He would be great.” So I prepared to work to get Dave on my team, although I had never met him. One Sunday—my first there—I preached at my teaching church. I was hoping to make some connections, to start people thinking I was a person they could work with. After the service, as I was shaking hands at the back door, a gentleman came up to me and said, “I’m Dave Jones. I want to be on your team.” That sums up Dave. He sees a need, and if he can take care of it, he does.

More than that, he is not afraid to do what needs to be done—whether it’s investing in the church, supporting a candidate, speaking the truth in Christian love, or reshaping his own life when it’s gone in unhealthy directions. He’s done the latter just recently, and it is a joy to see his returning health. He inspires me to not give up, no matter the obstacles—because of course, just when you get through one set of barriers, another set pops up. He’s taught me, too, the importance of giving back—I have learned, and so I have a responsibility to my teachers to pass on that knowledge. He’s not bitter, in spite of events that could have turned anyone bitter; he’s not angry or controlling or bossy. Dave is simply warm and direct and honest.

3. Christian de la Huerta
Christian is a writer and spiritualist in California, He works mainly with the gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender (GLBT) community, examining the ways in which we have special gifts to offer the world, especially spiritual gifts. Christian writes so well—his book Coming Out Spiritually is a delight to read just for the way he expresses himself, let alone what he says. He also leads retreats, does breathwork, and creates rituals. Christian opened my mind and heart to a variety of spiritual possibilities and helped me see how they could be incorporated into Christian spirituality. He speaks clearly, openly, and unashamedly about the importance of sex to our lives—everyone’s lives—and decries the separation of the body and spirit that has taken place in Western civilization. He’s also been a personal friend and support, when he really had no reason to be, except for his wise and warm heart.

2. TJ Flanahan (not a real name)
TJ is a composite. I have many transgendered friends whom I admire, so this is a sort of composite portrait of them. TJ knew from an early age that he was different. His parents, who told him he was a girl, also wanted him to stop being a tomboy, and settle into being a sweet little girl. When he was older, and trying to dress to match his feelings about himself, he was attacked and brutally beaten by college boys who thought he was a gay man. Eventually he married and had children, but in the course of time, his pain was too much. His husband left him when TJ began his transition to making his body match his soul. His grown children wanted nothing to do with him and wouldn’t let him see his grandchildren. Today TJ has a loving partner, is active in his church, and is close to retirement from a job he loves. He is accepted as he is, because he has insisted on who he is, and made the world recognize it. In spite of being a target of hatred, ignorance and mistrust, he’s not bitter or angry or fearful. He knows who he is, he knows God knows who he is, and both he and God love TJ just the way TJ is. I admire his courage and strength, and his ability to say, “I’m not going to hate or be angry. I could be, but I choose to be loving instead.” He is one of the most wonderful people I know.

1. Rev. Elder Troy Perry
Troy is the founder of Metropolitan Community Churches. His biography is amazing, and I recommend it to you. He heard God speaking to him, telling Troy to minister to God’s gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered children, and Troy answered, in spite of the hate and prejudice of government, other denominations, and society at large. Troy has no celebrity swelled-head about him. Once you’ve met him, you just call him “Troy.” He will remember you forever, by the way. He’s met me formally once—when I was ushering at a conference where there were at least 1000 people, and probably twenty or thirty ushers. But every time we’ve been in the same room since then he’s come over to me, calling me by name, giving me a hug and a kiss, asking me how the church is going—and he knows where it is and what’s happening there. He is possessed of a love of God, a humility, and a down-to-earth sensibility that are heart-warming. He’s never let the things that have happened to him—some of them outright miracles—go to his head, or the denomination’s head, either. I admire him for his courage to speak truth, to take the consequences, and to keep his feet firmly on the ground during it all.

Looking this list over, I see some common threads. All these people are strong, courageous, and loving in spite of reasons to not be very loving at all. The hardest part was ranking them, because they are all really Number One. They are my heroes and sheroes…may God bless them, every single one.

Birthday Party!

RevGalBlogPals Friday Meme this week is birthdays. As it happens, TO’s 18^th birthday is Sunday…a bittersweet day for his mom, to be sure. And so, in honour of his birthday, I offer this Friday Five!

1. "It's my party and I'll [blank] if I want to..." Favourite way to celebrate your birthday (dinner with family? party with friends? a day in solitude?)
My ideal is sort of s mix. Sleep late (but not too late), brought a mug of coffee in bed (maybe with a splash of Bailey’s or Amaretto?), big breakfast, stretch out on a chaise in the backyard and read most of the day, with a trip to a plant nursery in the afternoon to spend the large gift certificate I received, and the day would be completed with dinner with my nearest and dearest and a long night of….mahjongg, that’s right, mahjongg! Or else a party.

2. "You say it's your birthday... it's my birthday too, yeah..." Do you share your birthday with someone famous? (Click here to find out!)

Oh, yeah—and some good ones! Betty Ford, Julian Lennon, Mary Pickford, Sonja Henie and Kofi Annan!

3. "Lordy Lordy look who's forty..."
Milestone birthdays:
a) just like any other birthday--they're just numbers, people.
b) a good opportunity to look back/take stock
c) enjoy the black balloons--I'll be hiding under a pile of coats until the day is over
d) some combination of the above, or something else entirely.
I’ll take B, Alex…. And it’s also a great chance for a big ol’ party.

4. "Happy birthday, dear... Customer..." Have you ever been sung to in a restaurant? Fun or cringe-worthy?
No, because I have threatened everyone I know with mayhem and death if they so much as breathe a word to any waitstaff anywhere at any time when my birthday is…

5. "Take my birthday--please" Tell me one advantage and one disadvantage about your particular birthday (e.g. birthday in the summer--never had to go to school; birthday near Christmas--the dreaded joint presents). EDITED TO ADD: This could also simply be something you like/dislike about your birthday (e.g. I like sharing a birthday with my best friend, etc.).

I like it because I love spring, and so I get to celebrate it with tulips and daffodils and lilies and green grass, and maybe even outside. Also lots of chocolate!

I dislike it because it often falls during spring break, or even, as this year, on Easter itself. The busiest day of my year and I can’t take it off. Did I mention I’m doing a wedding on Holy Saturday this year? Why didn’t someone stop me?!

Best and Worst of 2006

I haven’t blogged for a while, not because I didn’t want to, but because, well, my life has either been not blog-worthy or not bloggable. However, feeling Janus-like, I thought I would try to sum up 2006—at least in my eyes, my experience, and may achievements (or lack thereof), as well as some hopes for 2007.

News Events—Positive Category
The election of the Most Rev. Dr. Katharine Jefferts Schori, as Moderator of the Episcopal Church, USA. My own denomination was the first to elect a female head—Rev. Elder Nancy Wilson, Moderator of Metropolitan Community Churches, in 2005—but the Episcopals were the first large, main-stream denomination to do so. You go, ECUSA!

The decision by Kings County in New York to allow transgendered people born in Kings County (one of the largest in NY) to change the gender recorded on their birth certificate. This means they can use it for other forms of identification with the correct gender. A huge step forward!

News Events—Negative Category

Murders, gay-bashings, transgender-bashing, lesbian-bashing, the abuse of children and animals and women, wars, famines, tsunamis, mudslides, earthquakes, genocide…need I go on?

Books I loved this year:
Drag King Dreams, Leslie Feinberg. I loved, loved Feinberg’s Stone Butch Blues—sad and heart-rending, but oh so truthful and beautiful. So when I heard Feinberg (an activist for transgender, labour, minority and disability causes) had a new book out, of course I had to read it. Max (the main character in DKD) didn’t grab my heart the way Jess (main character in SBB) did, but Max has an individual story to tell. Feinberg did, I think, try to cram a bit much into the story—every cause Feinberg believes in (and they are many and they are all ones I agree with) is in the book. But New York comes alive—not the Fifth Avenue-Broadway-Rockefeller Centre New York, but the rest of it. Amazing book, fantastic writer.

The Chalice and the Blade, Riane Eisler. Fascinating book on feminist spirituality. I don’t quite agree with all of Eisler’s conclusions, but I think she does have one thing right. Human beings have got to learn how to share power. Power-with, not power-over, is the only way we’re going to survive.

The Dance of the Dissident Daughter, Sue Monk Kidd. I know she isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but I found her story of evolving spirituality compelling. It paralleled mine in many respects, so maybe that’s what drew me in! But she writes wonderfully, which helps, too.

Fat Girls and Lawn Chairs, Cheryl Peck. Hysterically funny stories, blog-length, about growing up lesbian in southwest Michigan. Laugh-out-loud funny. I mean it—I read it on an airline flight this summer; DP kept elbowing me because I was chortling and giggling and snarking out loud. So then she read it on the way home and had the same reaction. Special stories include the title one; “How Many Lesbians Does it Take?”; and “What She Lost.”

Women Who Run With the Wolves, Clarissa Pinkola Estes. Yes, I know—this came out eons ago, when God was a buck private. And yes, I am just now getting around to reading it. However. Estes’ concept of women as needing to reclaim their “wildish” or natural selves really made me think about what I have put away, what I have stopped doing, as I became an “adult woman” or took on other roles. I realized that I have allowed all kinds of things to be put on me (or put them on myself), things that are not healthy or strengthening. You don’t have to accept all that she says, but she does have some real insights. And the stories are great.

Virtual Equality, Urvashi Vaid. This is a re-read, actually. I read it about once a year, just to do a mental check. Vaid was director of the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force, and remains a GLBT activist, so she has an insider’s view of the political manoeuvres that go on. She wrote the book way back in 1995, but, 12 years later, many of her points are still valid. Her contention is that any equality that GLBT people seem to have is virtual—like virtual reality, it exists only in certain circumstances not under the direction or control of the ones most directly affected. Any advances, any civil rights that have been gained are precarious and only remain by the whim of the majority--heterosexual voters—who are swayed by specious arguments and emotional (and false) appeals to the safety of children. She also argues that GLBT equality is not where it should be for two reasons. First, the umbrella of GLBT doesn’t really cover everyone—it’s really for white gay men and lesbians who live in suburbia and the nicer areas of cities. It doesn’t do much for transgender people, drag queens and kings, people who are HIV-positive, of colour, working-class, or without a college education. Second, the movement has chosen to work through nation-wide, large groups, like HRC and the NGLTF, rather than small, grass-roots groups, where everyone’s voice can be heard. Some of the book is outdated—same-sex marriage is legal now in Massachusetts and the Texas sodomy law was overturned—but Vaid’s passion is still a reminder that there is so much to be done.

The New Yorker. Man, I love that magazine. The incredible reporting, interesting fiction, the sly humour, the great cartoons, the little drawings that tell a story, the gallery and theatre listings that tell me what I’m missing…And the covers, too!

Best Things I Did in 2006

Retreat: My week-long retreat in October was wonderful beyond words. The solitude, the beauty, the freedom, were just what I needed. I cannot say enough about it. I have said this every time I mention it, but I will say it again—go on a retreat! Three days is minimum, more is better. Prayer, walking, thinking, reading, writing…no distractions, good or bad, rest, restoration. My dream is to go on retreat twice a year, apart from vacation or conferences. I’m working on a time in the spring when I could go.

Conference. The church conference this fall was outstanding! Even if I did run my tail off through over-committing… I saw friends I hadn’t seen in, literally, years, became closer to some friends, got to know some new ones, learned, worshipped, talked—the only thing I didn’t do was sleep…Next time, I’m in the conference hotel, I don’t care what it costs! This driving to another place fifteen minutes away adds up. But it was one of the best, if not the very best, church conference I have ever attended.

Pride Week: I was asked to give the opening prayer at the city council meeting during Pride week—the first MCC pastor so honoured and one of a very few women (perhaps three of us?). AND I got to ride in a Samoan Coral (that’s pink to most of us) 1965 Ford Thunderbird Convertible in the Pride Parade!

What I Want To Do in 2007

Write a book. I have about four in my head, and two partly outlined. I need to have some discipline and spend time everyday on one or the other of them. There’s much I would like to say (in case you hadn’t noticed—blogging isn’t for the silent types, is it?), and I need to get it out there.

Go on retreat again. Well worth the time and energy it takes to arrange it. Maybe one in the spring, one in the fall.

Take more Sundays off preaching. My new contract allows me to take one Sunday in four off—not that I have to, but I may if I like. I plan on taking advantage of that. I’ll still be there, leading worship—I just won’t be preaching.

Read more. DP will think I’m nuts, but I know RGBPs will understand. I need that t-shirt—so many books, so little time. There are professional books, and fun books, and some that are in the middle. There’s nonfiction, fiction, poetry, magazines, articles, webpages, blogs….

And if we’re talking wild fantasy here: spend a week this winter with my friends in Punta Gorda, Florida; and another week with friends in New York City. Maybe another week in Hermosa Beach, California (friends), and a fourth in central Pennsylvania (more friends).

Everything You Need to Know About the Blues...

A friend posted this on her blog, and I've got to pass it along. Thanks, Barbara!

How to Sing the Blues

If you are new to Blues music, or like it but never really understood the why and wherefores, here are some very fundamental rules:

1. Most Blues begin with: "Woke up this morning..."

2. "I got a good woman" is a bad way to begin the Blues, unless you stick something nasty in the next line like, "I got a good woman, with the meanest face in town."

3. The Blues is simple. After you get the first line right, repeat it. Then find something that rhymes - sort of:
"Got a good woman with the meanest face in town.
Yes, I got a good woman with the meanest face in town.
Got teeth like Margaret Thatcher and she weigh 500 pound."

4. The Blues is not about choice.
You stuck in a ditch, you stuck in a ditch...ain't no way out.

5. Blues cars:
Chevys, Fords, Cadillacs and broken-down trucks.
Blues don't travel in Volvos, BMWs, or Sport Utility Vehicles.
Most Blues transportation is a Greyhound bus or a southbound train.
Jet aircraft and state-sponsored motor pools ain't even in the running.
Walkin' plays a major part in the Blues lifestyle.
So does fixin' to die.

6. Teenagers can't sing the Blues.
They ain't fixin' to die yet.
Adults sing the Blues.
In Blues, "adulthood" means being old enough to get the electric chair if you shoot a man in Memphis.

7. Blues can take place in New York City but not in Hawaii or anywhere in Canada.
Hard times in Minneapolis or Seattle is just clinical depression.
Chicago, St. Louis, Kansas City, Memphis, and Nawlins are still the best places to have the Blues.
You cannot have the Blues in any place that don't get rain.

8. A man with male pattern baldness ain't the Blues.
A woman with male pattern baldness is.
Breaking your leg 'cause you were skiing is not the Blues.
Breaking your leg 'cause a alligator be chomping on it is.

9. You can't have no Blues in an office or a shopping mall.
The lighting is wrong.
Go outside to the parking lot or sit by the dumpster.

10. Good places for the Blues
a. highway
b. jailhouse
c. empty bed
d. bottom of a whiskey glass

11. Bad places for the Blues
a. Nordstrom's
b. gallery openings
c. Ivy League institutions
d. golf courses

12. No one will believe it's the Blues if you wear a suit, 'less you happen to be an old person, and you slept in it.

13.Do you have the right to sing the Blues?
Yes, if:
a. you're older than dirt
b. you're blind
c. you shot a man in Memphis
d. you can't be satisfied

No, if:
a. you have all your teeth
b. you were once blind but now can see
c. the man in Memphis lived
d. you have a 401K or trust fund

14. Blues is not a matter of color. It's a matter of bad luck.
Tiger Woods cannot sing the Blues. Sonny Liston could have.
Ugly white people also got a leg up on the Blues.

15. If you ask for water and your darlin' gives you gasoline, it's the Blues.
Other acceptable Blues beverages are:
a. cheap wine
b. whiskey or bourbon
c. muddy water
d. black coffee

The following are NOT Blues beverages:
a. Perrier
b. Chardonnay
c. Snapple
d. Slim Fast

16. If death occurs in a cheap motel or a shotgun shack, it's a Blues death.
Stabbed in the back by a jealous lover is another Blues way to die.
So are the electric chair, substance abuse and dying lonely on a broken-down cot.
You can't have a Blues death if you die during a tennis match or while getting liposuction.

17. Some Blues names for women:
a. Sadie
b. Big Mama
c. Bessie
d. Fat River Dumpling

18. Some Blues names for men:
a. Joe
b. Willie
c. Little Willie
d. Big Willie

19. Persons with names like Michelle, Amber, Jennifer, Debbie, and Heather can't sing the Blues no matter how many men they shoot in Memphis.

20. Blues Name Starter Kit
a. name of physical infirmity (Blind, Cripple, Lame, etc.)
b. first name (see above) plus name of fruit (Lemon, Lime, Kiwi, etc.)
c. last name of President (Jefferson, Johnson, Fillmore, etc.)

For example: Blind Lime Jefferson, Pegleg Lemon Johnson or Cripple Kiwi Fillmore, etc. (Well, maybe not "Kiwi.")

21. And I don't care how tragic your life is, if anyone in your family plays soccer, you can't sing the blues.

Four-Eyes Banana Bessie Wilson signing off...

Christmas Eve sermon--Final

This is pretty much what I will be preaching this afternoon. It's in manuscript form and I'll be turning it into an outline, but here it is. Thanks to RevGalBlogPals for encouragement and goodies along the way!

Luke 1

Now Mary arose in those days and went into the hill country with haste, to a city of Judah, and entered the house of Zacharias and greeted Elizabeth. And it happened, when Elizabeth heard the greeting of Mary, that the babe leaped in her womb; and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit. Then she spoke out with a loud voice and said, "Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb! "But why is this granted to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? "For indeed, as soon as the voice of your greeting sounded in my ears, the babe leaped in my womb for joy. "Blessed is she who believed, for there will be a fulfillment of those things which were told her from the Lord."

And Mary said: "My soul magnifies the Lord,

And my spirit has rejoiced in God my Saviour.

For He has regarded the lowly state of His maidservant; For behold, henceforth all generations will call me blessed.

For He who is mighty has done great things for me, And holy is His name.

And His mercy is on those who fear Him From generation to generation.

He has shown strength with His arm; He has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.

He has put down the mighty from their thrones, And exalted the lowly.

He has filled the hungry with good things, And the rich He has sent away empty.

He has helped His servant Israel, In remembrance of His mercy,

As He spoke to our fathers, To Abraham and to his seed forever."

Will you pray with me? God of light, God of love, give us grace to open our hearts to receive you. May our spirits receive you with joy. Amen.

I don’t have to tell you, of course, that today is Christmas Eve. But actually, we’re not celebrating Christmas Eve this afternoon—that will come tonight at the 11 pm service. That’s because today is also the fourth Sunday of Advent, and we celebrate that first, this afternoon—and then Christmas Eve in the evening.

You see, just like in our scripture reading, Jesus isn’t here yet! Mary is praising God and reminding us of all the things God will do—God will do, soon. But not yet. Not yet. Mary is still journeying this afternoon, still on her way to that stable, and the star and the shepherds and the angels.

And I have to wonder—what is she thinking, this young first time mother, as she and her husband Joseph search for a place to rest, and as she prepares to bear her baby? What is going through her mind? Is she worried? Frightened? Excited? Curious? Or is she just tired and uncomfortable, and hoping they will find a place to spend the night soon?

I know what I was feeling, eighteen years ago, when I was expecting my son. Like Mary, I had never had a baby before. Like Mary, I did not know what to expect. For those of you who are not parents, let me tell you that this can be very scary. I didn’t know what it would be like to have a baby—what kind of pain there would be, how I would feel about actually being a mother, once the baby was born, how it would all happen. I took a childbirth class, I talked to my mother, my sisters, my friends, to see what their experiences had been. It will come as no surprise to most of you that I read books, too—about being pregnant, about childbirth, about taking care of a baby. I just didn’t know what to expect. And in many ways, those last few days were the worst. I was uncomfortable—you trying walking around with a beach ball attached to your stomach—I was thinking way too much about what might happen, and I was excited about the baby’s arrival, all at the same time.

I suspect Mary, too, felt some of those things. She probably talked to her mother or her aunts, or the other women in the village about what it was like—and they probably gave her lots of advice, only about half of it really useful, just like the advice I got. And she probably felt some other things that I didn’t have to worry about. Childbirth was a lot more dangerous in those days—many women died bearing children. She and Joseph may not have been financially very secure—Ben’s father and I had good jobs and health insurance, a house, two cars. So Mary was, maybe, more scared than I was. She may have wondered if she could take care of a baby. And then, she knew who this child was that she carried—she knew this was the child of God. I wonder if that made it easier for her or more difficult, to know that she was carrying God’s own child in her body? I wonder what was going through her mind as she waited.

We’re waiting too, aren’t we? Waiting with Mary, for the birth, for the arrival of the Child of God, now at Christmas and then sometime, when we don’t know, at the end of all times. We don’t know what those end-times will be like—we wonder, we make up stories, we talk about it with each other. Some of us think it will happen one way—like the “Left Behind” series of books; and some of us another way. There are so many interpretations and predictions. But, just like the first time that Jesus arrived on earth at Christmas, his return is going to be unpredictable, too. He tells us so—that no one knows the day or hour, only God. As I said a couple of weeks ago, God keeps promises, but loves surprises.

How will we know? What will it look like, when Jesus comes back? Will it be frightening or glorious? Will it be exciting or dangerous or very, very quiet?

God’s given us some clues, I think, in Mary’s song. The traditional name for this song that she sings to Elizabeth is the Magnificat, which is the Latin for the first words—“My soul magnifies God.” We heard the traditional translation this afternoon because it is so beautiful and familiar. But many of those words are difficult to understand, and so is the grammar. A very modern translation, from The Message by Eugene Peterson, reads,

“I'm bursting with God-news;
I'm dancing the song of my Saviour God.
God took one good look at me, and look what happened—
I'm the most fortunate woman on earth!
What God has done for me will never be forgotten,
the God whose very name is holy, set apart from all others.
His mercy flows in wave after wave
on those who are in awe before him.
He bared his arm and showed his strength,
scattered the bluffing braggarts.
He knocked tyrants off their high horses,
pulled victims out of the mud.
The starving poor sat down to a banquet;
the callous rich were left out in the cold.
He embraced his chosen child, Israel;
he remembered and piled on the mercies, piled them high.
It's exactly what he promised,
beginning with Abraham and right up to now.”

Well, the poetry isn’t there, but the meaning surely is!

When we see the world turned upside-down, when the ones who have the least suddenly have the most, when the homeless are given mansions, when the people who are pushed to the margins are made the centre of attention, when the poor become rich and the downtrodden stand upright—then we know God is very near to us. When gay men are elected to Parliament, when lesbians govern universities, when bisexual men and women are heads of law enforcement and the military, when transgendered men and women control huge corporations, then we will know that God is near.

But wait! Some of those things are happening now, aren’t they? Hmmm.

God is coming very close to us—very close. Journalists have the five W’s and an H that they are supposed to cover in their stories—who, why, what, when, where, and how. What do we know? We know the who—the God of all nations—and the why—because God’s love is for all God’s children—but not the rest. We don’t know what it will look like, when it will be, where it will be or how it will look. But we know God’s time is coming.

Like Mary, we’re getting anxious. We’re not sure what it’s going to be like, and we’re a bit nervous. But, again like Mary, we trust God, and say, “As you will it, God.” And we wait. For a baby, and for—what? We don’t know. But God keeps promises, and God loves surprises.

God surprised the world once with a baby. Who knows what God will do next time? But we remember the birth of that baby, of God’s own child, Jesus, the one Mary is waiting for, Emmanuel, God with us.

In the many names of the one creating God who is with us always, amen.

Christmas Eve sermon--Draft 1

Well, this is something I've never done before and am a bit nervous about, but here goes--this is the first draft of my sermon for tomorrow afternoon. I will be reworking it tonight and probably cutting it back to an outline of some sort.

Comments and suggestions welcome!

Will you pray with me? God of light, God of love, be present with us now as we prepare to receive you into our hearts. May our spirits receive you with joy. Amen.

I don’t have to tell you that today is Christmas Eve. But actually, we’re not celebrating Christmas Eve this afternoon—that will come tonight at the 11 pm service. That’s because today is also the fourth Sunday of Advent, and we celebrate that first—and then Christmas Eve in the evening.

You see, just like in our scripture reading, Jesus isn’t here yet! Mary is praising God and all the things God will do—God will do, soon. But not yet. Mary is still journeying this afternoon, still on her way to that stable.

And I have to wonder—what is she thinking, this first time, young mother, as she and her husband Joseph search for a place to rest? What is going through her mind? Is she worried? Frightened? Excited? Curious? Or is she just tired, and hoping they will find a place to spend the night soon?

I know what I was feeling, eighteen years ago, when I was expecting my son. Like Mary, I had never had a baby before. Like Mary, I did not know what to expect. For those of you who are not parents, let me tell you that this can be very scary. I didn’t know what it would be like to have a baby—what kind of pain there would be, how I would feel about actually being a mother, once the baby was born, how it would all happen. I took a childbirth class, I talked to my mother, my sisters, my friends, to see what their experiences had been. It will come as no surprise to most of you that I read books, too—about being pregnant, about childbirth, about taking care of a baby. I just didn’t know what to expect.

I suspect Mary, too, felt some of those things. She probably talked to her mother or aunts, or the other women in the village about what it was like—and they probably gave her lots of advice, only about half of it really useful, just like the advice I got. And she probably felt some other things. Childbirth was a lot more dangerous in those days—many women died bearing children. So she was, maybe, more scared than I was. She may have wondered if she could take care of a baby. More than that, she knew who this child was that she carried—she knew this was the child of God. I wonder if that made it easier for her or more difficult, to know that she was carrying God’s own child in her body?

We’re waiting too, aren’t we? Waiting with Mary, for the birth, for the arrival of the Child of God, now at Christmas and sometime, when we don’t know, at the end of all times. We don’t know what that will be like—we wonder, we make up stories, we talk about it with each other. Some of us think it will happen one way—like the “Left Behind” series of books; and some of us another way. There are so many interpretations and predictions. But, just like the first time that Jesus arrived on the earth at Christmas, his return is going to be unpredictable, too. He tells us so—that no one knows the day or hour, only God. As I said a couple of weeks ago, God keeps promises, but loves surprises.

How will we know? What will it look like, when Jesus comes back? Will it be frightening or glorious? Will it be exciting or dangerous or very, very quiet?

God’s given us some clues, I think, in Mary’s song. The traditional name for this song that she sings to Elizabeth is the Magnificat, which is the Latin for the first words—“My soul magnifies God.” We heard the traditional translation this afternoon because it is so beautiful and familiar. But many of those words are difficult to understand, and so is the grammar. A very modern translation, from The Message by Eugene Peterson, reads,

“I'm bursting with God-news;
I'm dancing the song of my Savior God.
God took one good look at me, and look what happened—
I'm the most fortunate woman on earth!
What God has done for me will never be forgotten,
the God whose very name is holy, set apart from all others.
His mercy flows in wave after wave
on those who are in awe before him.
He bared his arm and showed his strength,
scattered the bluffing braggarts.
He knocked tyrants off their high horses,
pulled victims out of the mud.
The starving poor sat down to a banquet;
the callous rich were left out in the cold.
He embraced his chosen child, Israel;
he remembered and piled on the mercies, piled them high.
It's exactly what he promised,
beginning with Abraham and right up to now.”

Well, the poetry isn’t there, but the meaning surely is!

When we see the world turned upside-down, when the ones who have the least suddenly have the most, when the homeless are given mansions, when the people who are pushed to the margins are made the centre of attention, when the poor become rich and the downtrodden stand upright—then we know God is very near to us. When gay men are elected to Parliament, when lesbians govern universities, when bisexual men and women are the police commanders, when transgendered men and women control huge corporations, then we will know that God is near.

But wait! Some of those things are happening now, aren’t they?

God is coming very close to us—very close. There’s a list of what journalists are supposed to cover in their stories—who, why, what, when, where, and how. We know the who—the God of all nations—and the why—because God’s love is for all God’s children—but not the rest. We don't know what it will look like, when it will be, where it will be or how it will happen. But we know God’s time is coming.

Like Mary, we’re getting anxious. We’re not sure what it’s going to be like, and we’re a bit nervous. But, again like Mary, we trust God, and say, “As you will it, God.” And we wait. For a baby, and for—what? We don’t know. But God keeps promises, and God loves surprises.

In the many names of the one creating God who is with us always, amen.

123:5 Meme

Here's a new one, and I'm procrastinating on the sermon, so...

Through HipPastorzWife2B through Mary Beth from Songbird , as seen at The Vicar of Hogsmeade.

The rules are:
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next four sentences on your blog, along with these instructions.
5. Don’t you dare dig for that “cool” or “intellectual” book in your closet! I know you were thinking about it! Just pick up whatever is closest!

Dorothy Dunnett, King Hereafter

“And so he went to the top bench, where Thorfinn also was signalling him over, and where he sat down, as indicated, between an abbot from Devon and a bishop from Brittany. Thorfinn said, ‘I am not your brave sort of man who would enter into a marriage alliance without informing King Canute’s Queen, the Lady Emma. When she is in her dower town of Exeter, there is no one she leans on more than my lord Abbot Ealdred here, who rules Tavistock and all the trading ships moving from thereabouts over the sea, as far south as the river Loire—or am I exaggerating?’

‘You are,’ said the Abbot.”

King Hereafter is, as you may have guessed from the title, an historical novel about the “real” Macbeth. Dorothy Dunnett was a Scottish writer and historian who believed that Macbeth and Thorfinn were the same person. She writes dense novels, full of allusions and sometimes self-referential. They repay repeated readings. King Hereafter is, in my opinion, her very best ever. The ending touches me every single time. It’s a book I read through and put down, then pick up a week later and start again. Who, me, obsessive?

Friday Christmas Foodie Five!! Yum!

The Friday Five from the RevGalBlogPals...time to eat!

NOTE: To Singing Owl--no, this is not my family. It's a nice photo, evocative of a certain time of year and of the previous century. Just to be clear about this.

1. Favourite cookie/candy/baked good without which, it's just not Christmas.

Now that is a tough one…my mother and I were just talking about Christmas baking the other day, and all the different recipes we used to make—cherry blinks, spritzen, lebkuchen, gingersnaps, candy canes, stockings (the latter two variations on sugar cookies), macaroons, and rum balls. I think I’d have to go with sugar cookies, Mexican wedding cakes or cream wafers. Recipes for the second two below.

2. Do you do a fancy dinner on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, both, or neither? (Optional: with whom will you gather around the table this year?)
I’m still in the process of re-creating a holiday tradition—between pastoring and a divorce, I haven’t done the same thing two years in a row for about five or six years. My vote, however, goes to what my family always did. Big dinner Christmas Eve (generally “roast beast,” as we called it, following the immortal Dr. Seuss), then opening one present, followed by the candlelight service at church. In the morning, presents with Mom’s cinnamon coffee cake, coffee and Mimosas (plus candy from our stockings), then church, with an open house all afternoon after church, with sausage, chips, crackers, cheese, dip, cookies, punch, etc. Then in the evening left-over roast beef sandwiches and a sugar coma.

This year DP is headed back to visit her children for Christmas, so I’ll be spending Christmas Eve with the church—pretty literally, with a service at 1:30 pm and then another at 11 pm, followed by a Chinese dinner (a tradition here). Christmas Day after worship, I’ve been invited to a brunch and then to a dinner. It’s sort of a progressive meal, hosted by two couples who are part of a circle DP and I are becoming closer to this year. They are all amazing cooks, so I’m really looking forward to those meals!

3. Evaluate one or more of the holiday beverage trifecta: hot chocolate, wassail, eggnog.
My personal favourite is eggnog, even if I can’t have the roaring traditional recipe I used to make—it called for a fifth of bourbon, rum and less than a dozen eggs. Cook those raw eggs with alcohol, baby! Now I generally get the pasteurized stuff at the store—it doesn’t taste at all the same (even if you add rum and bourbon), but it’s healthier. Sigh.

However, I do like hot spiced wine—in Germany, it’s called gluehwein, and I love the stuff. Again, it’s no good for me (red wine = migraine). Of course.

Hot chocolate is good and a comfort food, but I have it too often during the winter for it to be very Christmassy for me.

4. Candy canes: do you like all the new-fangled flavours or are you a peppermint purist?
A pox on fancy flavours! Peppermint is the real flavour!

5. Have you ever actually had figgy pudding? And is it really so good that people will refuse to leave until they are served it?
If it’s anything like my mom’s plum pudding, you betcha I’ll refuse to go until I get some! Lots, even!

Bonus item: the fruitcake. Feel free to add your thoughts on this most polarizing holiday confection.

Well…I confess I used to bake it. I helped my mom make it when I was young—chop the nuts, slice the citron and cherries, etc. She always made big batches of it for all her brothers and sisters. After they were baked (in early November), they were wrapped in rum-soaked cheesecloth (are we sensing a theme here?) and left to marinate for four weeks before being sent off around the country.

Because it seemed like a required part of Christmas, I baked it myself for the first four or five years after I left home. But then I realized I didn’t eat it, and neither did much of anyone else we had over at Christmas. So I stopped. Life is much better now.

By the way, re-reading this, it sounds like my childhood home was steeped in rum, drowned in champagne, and boiled in bourbon. That’s really and truly not the case! It’s just the holidays, that’s all.

Recipes!

Mexican Wedding Cakes
(I have no idea why they are called that. With the pecans, they should be called Texas wedding cakes, I think).

½ lb butter
2 cups flour
¼ cup sugar
1 cup pecans (chopped fine, but not to dust)
1 teaspoon vanilla
Confectioners sugar

Cream butter; add sugar and vanilla, beat until light and fluffy. Add flour and pecans, mix well. Roll in 1-inch balls and place 1 inch apart on ungreased cookie sheet. Bake at 350° for 18-20 minutes or until lightly browned. Remove from cookie sheet and roll in confectioners sugar while still warm. Cool on wire rack.

These (and the next one) are great because they’re not terribly sweet, but very addictive. You can eat half a batch before you even realize you’re eating them.

Cream Wafers
1/3 cup cream
2 cups flour
1 cup butter
Mix into dough and chill at least thirty minutes. Roll 1/3 at a time, on lightly-floured board, keeping remaining dough chilled. Roll 1/8-inch thick and cut in 1 ½-inch circles (I use the top of a spice bottle). Coat both sides with granulated (not confectioners) sugar. Place on ungreased cookie sheet. Prick once or twice with a fork. Bake at 325° for 8-10 minutes. Do not allow to brown. Put together, sandwich cookie-style, with filling.

Filling:
¼ cup soft butter
¾ cup confectioners sugar
1 egg yolk
1 teaspoon vanilla
Food coloring if desired
Mix well.

Killer Eggnog
10 egg yolks
1 ¼ cup granulated sugar
½ cup light rum
2 cups milk
2 cups heavy cream
1 fifth bourbon
10 egg whites, beaten stiff
Beat yolks well; slowly fold sugar in. Very slowly add rum. Stir in milk and cream. Add bourbon slowly, and fold in egg whites. Chill well. Top with nutmeg. Hide the car keys.

And a special bonus recipe:
Hanukah Cheeseball
8 ounces cream cheese, softened
1 1/2 cups shredded cheddar cheese
2 cups shredded gouda cheese
White wine

Mix together by hand (do not use blender or mixer); use just enough wine to allow the cheeses to blend. Chill. Shape into one large ball. Roll ball in paprika, coating it. Then roll in sesame seeds. Wrap in plastic and chill at least 8 hours. Serve with crackers. This also freezes well.

For the Doubters Out There...

Just in case any of you doubted me a while ago, here's the S'mores Nativity Set!

Hurry, supplies are limited!

Order now and we'll add FREE fiberoptics!

Added Thursday December 21: I just now actually scrolled down to the post with the S'mores, and I had actually posted a picture already. That's what I get for laziness. On the other hand, in the current post (i.e., this one), you get a link THAT WORKED, BLOGGER, FOILED YOU THIS TIME! and a whole bunch of even odder nativity sets.

I want the timer.

A Christmas at the Movies...

The RevGalBlogPals Midwinter Meme is on Christmas movies. I haven’t really been one for the holiday theme in movies, but I’ll take a stab at this…

1) It's a Wonderful Life--Is it? Do you remember seeing it for the first time?
I don’t remember the first time I saw this movie, it’s been a part of my holidays for so long. I used to gather with relatives for Chinese food and It’s a Wonderful Life sometime in December—usually about this time, the last weekend or so before Christmas. It gave us a chance to get together without all the Christmas Eve/Day craziness, and yet be part of our Christmas. And Chinese food meant no one had to cook!

2) Miracle on 34th Street--old version or new?
Never seen either one. Sorry…

3) Do you have a favorite incarnation of Mr. Scrooge?
Alistair Sims, bar none. He IS Scrooge. Unless it’s my Dickens prof from undergraduate days, who read A Christmas Carol, in costume, every year to the assembled masses the night before fall (i.e. December) finals began.

4) Why should it be a problem for an elf to be a dentist? I've been watching Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer for years now, and I still don't get it.
Do elves have teeth? Maybe they don’t need dentists. Or maybe there’s an oversupply of dentists at the North Pole, and his parents wanted him to go into something more lucrative, like reindeer breeding or toy train design.

5) Who's the scariest character in Christmas specials/movies?

• The Bumble—mildly alarming
• The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, Muppet Version—I think not

• That Mean Magician Who Tries to Melt Frosty—I’m sorry, but I despise Frosty the Snowman.
• Your Nomination—Mr Potter, in It’s a Wonderful Life.

My two favourite Christmas-flavour movies were not listed, however.

A Charlie Brown Christmas (yes, it all comes back to Snoopy at Christmas) and

The Vicar of Dibley's Christmas Lunch Incident .

In fact, I will probably spend Christmas Day afternoon curled up on the couch with salt 'n' vingar chips and these two movies. Ahhhhh....

Procrastinating or Priming the Pump While Trying to Get the Sermon Written?

I was just looking at my newly redesigned blog (I upgraded to Beta Blogger, added a bunch of links, rearranged some things), and read my post from Monday.

Yikes! How could I have fallen so far, so fast? I had said I wanted to do a little bit on things every day so I wouldn’t be overwhelmed. I actually did that until Wednesday, when everything fell apart. Don’t ask me why—I was in the office all day, got lots of paperwork and other needed things done (worship planning for January, meeting with host church pastor about our joint Christmas Eve service, not to mention various correspondence). I tried to work on the sermon several times, but then I would realize that I hadn’t done X, which had to be done that day (deadline) or I needed to check on Y, since I was in the office. Etc. You know how it goes—someone calls, someone stops in, you realize you’re running out of time on something else…and the sermon gets put aside.

And yet, the sermon and worship are two of the most important things we, as pastors, do. We can farm out a lot of administrative tasks, we can delegate a deacon (or whatever the denominational title is) to do most visits and calls…but the sermon and worship, that’s ours. In my denomination, in fact, the pastor is solely responsible for worship. No one else can dictate what to do during the worship service. The pastor can delegate music selection, for example, and get suggestions and input from a worship team, but the final decisions are the pastor’s.

I may rethink my weekly routine. Right now, I have Mondays off (theoretically), Tuesdays and Wednesdays are office hours, Thursdays I have appointments and meetings and work on the sermon, and Friday I work on the sermon as well as whatever else needs to be done that hasn’t been done. And Saturday usually finds me here, working on my sermon with the other RevGalBlogPals at the weekly preacher’s party.…

I’m thinking I’d like to change that. Maybe this schedule will work: Monday still my day off; Tuesday a sermon day, not an office day; Wednesday office day; Thursday office day; Friday sermon and clean-up day. Maybe if I set aside a day early in the week to do nothing but the sermon, I can get more done on it before the craziness catches up to me.

And the New Year is coming (yes, there is life after Christmas!)—new year, new Board, new schedule. It’s worth a shot, I think. All I know is that I’m tired of feeling like I’ve shorted the sermon preparation time, when it is one of the core things I do. I’m also tired of making resolutions—here in my blog, to my family, to myself—and then not being able to follow through. I know some of it is a matter of trial and error, and refining this and that to put together what works for me, and I know it doesn’t have to happen overnight—but I want it to! God, give patience, and right now!

Christmas Songs of Advents Past…

The post title doesn't really fit what I ended up writing, but I like it so much I'm keeping it anyway...

My usual Friday Five from the RevGalBlogPals… This week we’re talking Christmas music!

1. A favourite 'secular' Christmas song.
This one is actually difficult—most of my favourites are “sacred”—or at least semi-sacred, in that they actually talk about Jesus and angels instead of holly and presents and eggnog. Hmmm..."It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas," for its evocation of New York City, and "White Christmas," just 'cause.

2. Christmas song that chokes you up (maybe even in spite of yourself--the cheesier the better).
“Mary, Did You Know?” and “Little Drummer Boy”—both of them in spite of myself,cause I think I cry too easily. And that drummer boy--cheese, indeed.

3. Christmas song that makes you want to stuff your ears with chestnuts roasted on an open fire.
“I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus,” with “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” running a very close second. And “Jingle Bell Rock” is in contention, too.

4. The Twelve Days of Christmas: is there *any* redeeming value to that song? Discuss.
Well, you probably know that it was supposed to be a mnemonic for various Christian items—four calling birds = four gospels, five gold rings = Christ’s five wounds, twelve lords a leaping = twelve disciples, partridge in a pear tree = Crucifixion, “true love” = God, etc. Notice I say "supposed" to be. If you strain really hard you can make 'em match up to something, but you can do that with anything. Bible Code, anyone? That and the bragging value of remembering all twelve items without a cheat sheet (although some call that OCD).

5. A favourite Christmas album.
Mannheim Steamroller’s “Christmas in the Aire,” and “Handel’s Messiah: A Soulful Celebration.” I could listen to them for a month. Wait, I do!

Postscript:

I forgot—how could I?—one of my all-time favorites! “Snoopy’s Christmas!” Look here for the words and a midi. Something about the combination of the chorus—“Christmas bells, those Christmas bells,/ ring out from the land/Asking peace of all the world/And good will to man,” which I love—and the Red Baron saying “Merry Christmas, my friend!” in a pseudo-German accent, which tickles me, makes it a favourite.

Procrastination, Thy Name is Pastor!

Monday! Yay!

I am going to be doing my best to take today off. I managed to put in more than 40 hours last week (theoretically, I’m part-time, at 20 hours a week). So I slept in, read my email in a leisurely fashion, browsed through some blogs, took the trivia quiz, and had a lazy breakfast, including finishing a book I want to give my mother. I’ve started the laundry, too.

According to the church musician, who also plays for a local Presbyterian church, this is the year of the Sabbath (at least for Canadian Presbyterians; the rest of us may be out of luck). Well, darn it, I’m going to do my best to take part in this whole Sabbath thing! That’s taking a day to rest, right?

Can someone explain that to me?

I’m sure trying it today. Oh, I’m not totally ignoring the church—this time of year there’s too much going on, between Advent and Christmas preparations, our congregation’s annual meeting (yesterday and it went well, thank you), and preparing for next year (yes, I really am still working on the readings—more on that in a moment). But I’m using it for things that I’ll enjoy doing, that I want to do—that and professional reading. I have a stack of articles and books about a foot high, and I think if I take this afternoon and work on it, I could reduce it to eight inches.

What I think I’m discovering is that I have to do a little bit on everything everyday. If I wait to do something, or put it off in favour of something else I’d rather do, it backs up and becomes a huge chore. Sort of like cleaning the refrigerator, another chore I have to work on doing regularly… So, for the sermon, for example, instead of selecting my reading on Tuesday, doing all my research and rough draft on Friday, or Saturday, and polishing on Sunday morning (on a good week), I want to have the reading already chosen, and possibly the call to worship as well. Then Tuesday I take notes, Wednesday I pull some themes together, Thursday and Friday I write, and if I need to, then I’ve got Saturday as well. If I take half-an-hour every day to read an article, or to make a couple of phone calls, then it won’t be so overwhelming. Little bits at a time, you know?

Part of this plan for the new year is the scheme I talked about at the Saturday sermon party. For those of you who had prior commitments, my plan is to put together a schedule/calendar of the readings I’ll use for the year (or at least the first six months), including reminders for events like the church’s anniversary, membership classes (and thus reception of new members), Sundays I would like to take off, Sundays when we could have a guest preacher (besides when I’m gone), and so on. A partner plan to this is one I’ve mentioned a mentoring pastor had—she took two days or so every three months and wrote out outlines for her sermons for the next three months. That way, she had at least an outline, if everything fell apart one week (a funeral, three members in the hospital, six meetings and a partridge in a pear tree). If it didn’t fall apart, she had a reward for planning ahead, and if she wanted to, she could completely redo it. But in case of an emergency, she at least had something.

And I think that’s a big chunk of being able to rest, really rest on a day off--peace of mind. I know part of the reason I have a hard time taking a day of rest is that I keep thinking of all the things I could be doing, that need to be done, that only I can do. Right now, I have the schedule, minutes from a community meeting I attended last week, and preparations for a meeting tonight in my mind as things to do this morning. If I can get into the mindset of doing things a little at a time, then they won’t be so overwhelming and I won’t procrastinate so much. And if I can get things done a bit ahead, then I won’t feel so much pressure and so much anxiety.

That’s my theory, and I’m sticking to it. For now, anyway. Of course, the other question is, how in the world do I find the time to get ahead? Little bits, right?

World AIDS Day

Today is the observance of World AIDS Day.

We’ve been observing this day for so long, I don’t know what to say that I haven’t said fifty times before.

I could talk about my many friends and colleagues who are HIV+ or who have sero-converted and have full-blown AIDS. I could talk about my friends who work in AIDS clinics and other AIDS organizations, supporting people who are HIV+ or living with AIDS (PWAs). I could talk about the effects of HIV/AIDS around the world, how it devastates communities, regions, and nations, leaving a younger generation to fend for themselves. I could talk about how the highest increase in rate of infection is among black women. I could take on the whole controversy about the “down low” or the one on abstinence education.

Or I could put a cheerier face on it, and talk about the medications developed in recent years, that make it possible to really live with AIDS. I could mention the many agencies that have been created specifically for PWAs. I could say that most cities now have policies in place to care for residents who are HIV+/PWAs, if not speciality AIDS clinics in city hospitals, and that AIDS patients are no longer relegated to the back rooms of hospitals.

But I’m tired. Tired of hearing that AIDS is a “gay” disease, an “African” disease, a “white” disease, a “city” disease—in other words, not “our” problem, whoever “we” are. I’m tired of hearing that conditions are beyond repair in parts of Africa; tired of hearing that “we can’t talk about condoms, the government will shut us down;” tired of hearing that needle exchanges encourage drug use.

It’s way beyond time to stop finger pointing, stop arguing over whose “fault” the high rate of infections is, stop denying reality, and get some of God’s work done—comfort the afflicted, heal the sick, support the dying—to love one another as Christ loved us.

Never forget those we have lost; never give up working to support PWAs; never give up working for a cure.

Friday Meme Time…

It’s Friday, and you know what means (at least you do if you’ve been in RP-land on a Friday or two)—Meme Time!

This week, honouring the first Sunday of Advent, it’s an Advent meme from the RevGalBlogPals.

Here we go:

1) Do you observe Advent in your church?
Oh, yes. We have to do a lot of explaining, because many people come from a tradition that didn’t celebrate Advent so much, or didn’t use Advent wreaths. But most people seem to like it, especially the young ones! For me, it's a way to stave off Christmas until Christmas. Advent is an important season of the church year all on its own, darn it!

2) How about at home?
When I was growing up, we did—greens from the cedar bushes out front, candles in the star-shaped crystal holders, all on a round tray—and when I lived in Germany, the florists and gift shops had gorgeous ones, with crystals and pearl beads and bows and ribbons—all quite flammable, I’m sure. So of course I had to have one every year. More recently, life hasn’t been organized enough for an advent wreath. That, and somehow my agnostic ex-husband ended up with the Lenox crystal Advent wreath base…

3) Do you have a favourite Advent text or hymn?
The Magnificat and O Come O Come Emmanuel. I’m a traditionalist, sometimes.

4) Why is one of the candles in the Advent wreath pink? (You may tell the truth, but I'll like your answer better if it's funny.)
Because the blue faded?

5) What's the funniest/kitschiest Advent calendar you've ever seen?
Either the S’Mores* one or the one with Santa kneeling at the manger. Kitsch!
My favourite was one with Mary, Joseph, and Jesus under a pine tree, with all the woodland animals gathered around—a cougar, a wood duck, a deer family, etc. Sort of a National Wildlife Advent calendar.

*Odd kitsch-critters purporting to be snowmen, shaped like…well, like s’mores treats. That is, two marshmallows on a graham cracker with a square of chocolate. Yummy. But these creatures are the s’more just before it’s all squished together. Oh, heck. I’ll try to find a photo.

Here we are, all seasonal and everything...

Santa and angel S'mores


An ornament for your tree...

And the ultimate S'mores accessory....



Your very own Smores Nativity scene!