Friends

Not Brit Boy...

It's been a difficult week for me, and I'm not sure why. Heck, it's been a difficult month. At first I thought I felt depressed and slow and unmotivated because I was tired after eight non-stop weeks. As some of you know, I literally ran from one event to another from early June to early August. TO's high school graduation, with a ten-hour drive on each end of the weekend. Then two weeks of preparation for being gone for ten days with Pride following shortly thereafter. Gone for ten days, come back to a wedding the day I arrived back in River City. Then the three weeks of thousands of details getting ready for Pride week. Imagine Easter and Christmas rolled together for a mainstream church and you get an idea of what the Pride worship service means for a church in the GLBT community. And we had one of our denomination's singers/evangelists coming for that weekend as well, and staying with me as a houseguest. In addition to the church's events (worship, parade unit, food booth, church booth), as co-vice chair of the community Pride organization, I needed to be present at as many of the community events as I could. So the flag-raising, the Night of Remembrance (both of which I was participating in anyway), an art show (which unfortunately had to be canceled due to a storm), bowling, a film festival, Saturday night entertainment, including an amazing dance set put together by Brit Boy (which I was the primary contact for), and then the big events on Sunday--service, parade, entertainment.... And then we had another concert on the Monday and Tuesday it was all over.

So I expected to be exhausted; I had made sure to have worship pretty much planned out for the first couple of weeks. And then I had ten days of vacation, which I thought would revitalize me--I had wanted to use some of the time to look at myself, my life, and listen to what God is calling me to be and do here. Instead I lacked motivation to do anything but sleep as late as the dog let me, surf the internet, read novels, nap and get together with friends.

And I still came back feeling drained and sad. Even having to get back in the routine didn't help.
Tuesday and yesterday were the nadir...staring out the window drinking coffee, forcing myself to respond to emails and do a few really urgent things. I didn't sleep much the night in between either.

And then yesterday afternoon I had a deep conversation with Brit Boy, and last night I went to dinner with the Professor. I don't know if it was the dinner conversation with the Professor or the one with Brit Boy earlier in the day, something else, or a combination of all those, but I did a fair amount of thinking last night after I got home and then this morning. And yes, that cogitation did result in some conclusions.

I realised that I have been so focused on what might happen (good and bad) that I haven't had time or energy for what I know will happen, for what is happening. It's the reverse of that old saying--instead of not seeing the forest for the trees, I couldn't see the trees for the forest. No wonder I felt overwhelmed.

I am a pastor with a church to care for. That's what I am called to do; that's my central task. If I do that well, then anything else I can do is gravy (I'm defining that fairly broadly, by the way--caring for the church includes community work and self-care).

No wonder I felt overwhelmed and depressed and defeated--I was trying to take care of everything in sight. Not in a literal sense--I've finally learned to delegate. But my sense of responsibility (already over-developed) was running as wild as kudzu in June.

The Professor reminded me that I cannot begin to be prepared for every contingency, that the simple things like worship and conversation and presence are most important. He didn't quite put it that way, actually, since he was using academic jargon rather than church jargon; that's my translation. What he meant was to focus on the fundamentals and not worry about the rest until I had to. Brit Boy put it more simply: "Just chill."

And so instead of angsting over a strategic plan and a life mission statement and a global strategy for the church, I'm planning worship for September. I'm working on the guest preachers for the fall. I'm getting to know the new pastor at our host church. I'm cleaning the house. I'm planning meals. I'm thinking about what I'm going to make for gifts for Christmas. I'm focusing on the trees, not the forest. Already I feel happier, more relaxed, less worried, less stressed.

And now you know why Brit Boy and the Professor are two of my favourite people. They both know me well enough to cut through the verbiage and focus on what really matters, and, more importantly, they both care enough to speak honestly. And both would dismiss the idea that they have done anything special--but they have. So thanks, both of you. You're amazing friends.

Not the Professor....

Friday Five: Cultural Edition

The RevGalBlogPals Friday Five this week is about cultural expression and spirituality. Warning...I left the Friday Five behind and got carried away towards the end.

The challenge was to name one of each of these--book, movie, art, etc.--and why or how it affected your spiritual journey.

Book
This one is really difficult for me—there have been several. I won’t include the Bible, since that’s pretty basic. But there have been three that have had a powerful influence. Coming Out Spiritually, by Christian de la Huerta. Should I just say that we can take this one for granted? I can’t overstate the significance this book had on me—in coming out, in being able to recognize on a psychological and spiritual level (rather than simply rational level) that I am and always will be a beloved child of God, and that there are many ways of being spiritual that respect the God I follow. The God of Israel and Christian Theology, by R. Kendall Soulen, pushed me to think about the real-world negative results of our theology. Soulen looks at the roots of anti-Semitism in Christian exegesis and theology—and I felt convicted. Amazing book, amazing writer and teacher. Yes, he was my Systematics professor at seminary! Finally, Embodiment by James Nelson, on the innate goodness of the human body, arguing against the false dualism of the Augustinian view that the spirit is good, the body is evil, and instead for an integration of the two.

Piece of music
John Rutter’s Requiem. It’s a beautiful piece of music all on its own, but the process of learning to sing my part in it over the course of several months taught me a great deal about discipline, practice and patience. The choir I was a member of was preparing it soon after the birth of my son. I would play a tape of it while I walked—my daily fifteen minutes of me-time—to learn my part. Those walks became very important tome—for the exercise, private time, and music--so I also learned the value of taking time for myself in the midst of busy times!

Work of art
Michelangelo Buanarotti’s "Pieta." I always loved it, but until I had my son, I didn’t experience the full impact of this work of genius. From a technical standpoint, the figures are out of proportion. But the piece as a whole expresses so much sorrow and grief—a very human grief, at the brutal death of one’s beloved child—that it moves me every time. It brought home to me the human side of the Human One and made Jesus the Christ real to me.

Film
I took a great course in seminary one summer—Hebrew Bible Goes to the Movies—that examined how film has used the stories of the Hebrew Bible (Old Testament). Ten Commandments, Prince of Egypt Richard Gere as King David, etc. We saw probably 20 films, or clips of them, over the course of those two weeks. So I’m not sure I can pin one down, so many of them affected me—positively and negatively. There have been movies that made me think about spirituality and that of others—how it might affect people—but I can’t say that there was one in particular that changed me. I think the entire genre of science fiction movies has a great deal to say to spirituality, though.

Popular culture
Well, here’s a coincidence. Brit Boy and I had a discussion just a couple days ago that is germane. We were talking about the instant gratification culture, the desire for getting things now in most of Western culture, with the rise of easy credit and Internet accessibility, among other things. Books, movies, a date, CDs, shoes, clothes, wallpaper, a cellphone—any of these can be obtained over the Internet at any hour of the day or night. We don’t have to wait and work and save for things, because we all have credit cards.

More than instant gratification, there’s an alienation from reality. It was the movie The Matrix that brought this home for me. I only saw the first one, so I can’t speak for how the story unfolded in the rest of the trilogy. But the concept of being in state of illusion and thinking it was reality—this is how much of Western culture is these days. There’s all kinds of reality being denied out there—from the fact that some people are more intelligent than others to where our meat comes from to the need for hard work in order to acheive something worthwhile.

The spiritual connection here is with discipleship—a word I dislike but don’t have an alternative for. It’s that process of working, of realizing that faith is a verb, a journey, and hard work, not over in a day or week. It takes work and practice, and is ongoing. There is no instant gratification, not with any substance, in the church. Yes, there are wonderful transcendent moments—I treasure mine. But they are soon over and we have to do the work of the church in this difficult world that requires hard work. I don’t know if you’ve had people tell you they weren’t being “spiritually fed” in this or that tradition or church. And I wonder if these people were sitting there with their mouths open, expecting to have the spiritual food spooned into their mouths, waiting for that instant gratification, instead of recognizing that some effort is required, and sometimes lots of effort.

Well that’s a lot more than the Friday Five really need…but I’ve said it, so there it is. Look what you started, Brit Boy!

Bonus: Is engagement essential to your Christian faith, how and why?
Well I think it’s pretty obvious from the above that yes, it is! It’s how I test what I believe—how I push the limits of my theology and creed outward. If I don’t grow and stretch in my belief, I stagnate and die.

Friday Five--Holiday Edition

The RevGalBlogPals are all about word association today. So here we go.

1. Vineyard

The vineyards on the sloped banks of the Rhine River in Germany, seen through a fine drizzle. A memory of a long-ago vacation.

2. Root

Grounding, basis, foundation. We grow from and are shaped by our roots.

3. Rescue

An image of one person leaning down and pulling another to safety. I’ve been thinking a lot recently about friendship and mutual support and love and caring for one another; rescue is one of the things we do as friends, too.

4. Perseverance

A needle scraping away at a brick wall. Also on my mind recently. It’s tiring and frustrating and sometimes even painful. And sometimes it still doesn’t get you anywhere.

5. Divided

A wall or moat. A river. Perhaps an ocean. Some kind of barrier. It splits and separates what was meant to be together: two people, a nation, a family.

Short and sweet today.

(My apologies for the wonky formatting. I can't get blogger to play nice today)

Put Down the Duckie

What duckie do you need to put down to play your saxophone?

RevGalBlogPals Friday Five Stress Buster Edition

It’s Friday and once again I have posted nothing but last Friday’s meme!

Arghhh!

This week, appropriately enough as I head off on vacation/holidays, we’re talking stress relief.

Sally asks:

First, and before we start busting stress, what causes you the most stress, is it big things or the small stuff?

Both, really. I worry over the big stuff and try to plan for every possible contingency and obsess over what I’m saying or doing or planning. The little stuff builds up—too many little things going wrong in one day can be a huge source of stress.

Exercise or chocolate for stress busting ( or maybe something else) ?

Well, it’s not exactly chocolate, but I do tend to escapism—a book or web surfing or a favourite movie or a computer game—something like that. Usually I can get back to whatever it is that’s bugging me with a clearer head after a while away from it.

What is your favourite music to chill out to?
Some good classic rock and roll. Bob Seger, Bruce Springsteen, Rolling Stones, Pink Floyd, Doors, Moody Blues etc. Even some Metallica or AC/DC depending on just how stressed I am. Then segue into mellower rock, like Melissa Etheridge, finally settling into some folk (Loreena McKennit, Anuna) or jazz (Al Jarreau,). Yes, I have a mix (in my head) for chilling. Maybe I should get it onto a CD…hmmm. Stress Relief Mix…

Where do you go to chill?

Someplace comfortable and relaxing. Depending on the season and the source of my stress, I might be on the porch or in the living room, by the riverside or in the coffee shop, or in the library or even the club on a Friday night….

Extrovert or introvert, do you relax at a party, or do you prefer a solitary walk?

Well, I tend to want to go to the solitary walk (or endless journaling), but I do better if I force myself to socialize after a while. Being with people—whether or not I talk about the source of my stress, or even can talk about it—helps me put things in perspective.

Bonus- share your favourite stress busting tip!

Disclaimer: these tips are mostly theoretical. They are my goals.

The first is related to my last comment—keeping things in perspective. It’s my persistent failing—I tend to obsess and over-think things instead of keeping them in proportion—see solitary walks, above. I’m also impatient, so when I don’t get results immediately I get frustrated.

Case in point—I got a new cell phone earlier this week (yay! Back in the 21^st century!). When I tried to access the voice mail later in the day to set up the message, I got a recording that the number was not in service. I tried calling the store—had to leave a message. Called the salesperson (who had given me her card and yes she’s cute)—had to leave a message. Finally got through to the company, they said the number hadn’t been activated, so they called the store (must have a special line) and got it taken care of. Apparently I had so distracted the salesperson she forgot to actually activate the number (that’s my story and I’m sticking to it). But I got all stressed out and upset and annoyed—as if someone were deliberately trying to make life difficult for me. I happened to talk to Brit Boy during all this, and he told me to chill out and take it easy—he who does not suffer fools any more gladly than I do. And I realized he was right, of course. It’s a cell phone, not a heart pacemaker; I’ve purchased it and signed up for the plan, everything is on order. It will work in time. Patience and perspective.

The other thing that is important, I think, is saying no. I don’t have to do something just because someone asks me to, even if it is a good thing to do and needed. The church tried that at Pride this year—we weren’t going to knock ourselves out to do all the things we usually do, we were going to do what we could with the people and resources we had available. And that’s what we did—and things went very well. Much less stress than last year, everyone had more fun, and we were more successful, too.

Short term stress-busters—delegate what you can. Carve out something for yourself every day—a favourite breakfast, fifteen minutes with a recreational book before bed, an afternoon with the kids, half an hour chatting (online, on the phone or in person) with a good friend.

This last been good for me—the me-time every day. It’s a few minutes that let me relax and not be responsible for anything, just to be me, or escape a bit. Or vent. It’s whatever I need it to be.

So, in summary (babbling is another fault of mine): personal time every day, patience, and perspective (which includes a sense of humour).

Oh, one more thing. Have someone you can lean on—really lean on—when you need to. Partner, colleague, friend, sister, brother, parent—whoever. Mutual support is crucial.

On Pilgrimage

Uluru

It’s Friday and I haven’t posted in forever, so to get things started, here’s the Friday Five meme from Reverendmother at RevGalBlogPals.

1. Have you ever been on a pilgrimage? (however you choose to define the term) Share a bit about it. If not, what's your reaction to the idea of pilgrimage?
My trip to Poland in the spring of 2001 to study the Holocaust was a pilgrimage. Our visits to the concentration camps and ghettos were pilgrimages within the pilgrimage. Each person in our group had burdens related to the trip: German or Polish ancestry, military service, having been raised in the Roman Catholic faith, and so on. The two most powerful moments for me were standing at the execution wall in Auschwitz and at the monument in Treblinka. Two among many.

2. Share a place you've always wanted to visit on pilgrimage.
There are a couple. One is Iona, the site of Reverendmother’s recent pilgrimage. The other is almost literally at the other end--of the world, and of the spirituality spectrum—Uluru, Ayer’s Rock, in Australia. On Iona, I think I would want a solitary, contemplative time with community worship from time to time. At Uluru, I’d like it to be more meditative. I would love to experience both sunset and sunrise at Uluru; maybe spend the night between in prayer. I wouldn’t climb it, as Uluru is sacred to the local people.

3. What would you make sure to pack in your suitcase or backpack to make the pilgrimage more meaningful? Or does "stuff" just distract from the experience?
For Uluru, I would take a journal to write in and nothing else, in keeping with the spare and simple nature of Uluru. More I think would distract me from hearing. On Iona, I would take some sacred objects and create an altar—which is part or my usual practice for a retreat, to create an altar specific to the retreat.

4. If you could make a pilgrimage with someone (living, dead or fictional) as your guide, who would it be? (I'm about thisclose to saying "Besides Jesus." Yes, we all know he was indispensable to those chaps heading to Emmaus, but it's too easy an answer)
Hmm. This is actually kind of difficult, because I tend to prefer solitary retreats and pilgrimages. Maybe St. Francis in the next hut?

5. Eventually the pilgrim must return home, but can you suggest any strategies for keeping that deep "mountaintop" perspective in the midst of everyday life? (don't mind me, I'll be over here taking notes)
Well, my hope, aim and theory is to take back a practise that I can use regularly or at the very least remind myself of how it felt to follow that practise. From my retreat in October, I brought back different eating habits and the realization that I can live without a watch or clock. I try to do the latter every once in a while, but wow is it hard here in “the world.”

And I just realised that I have been looking at the pilgrimage as a retreat, which is not always the case. I know that from my pilgrimage to Poland I brought back many souvenirs; I have preached and written about it many times. So perhaps that’s it—remembering it through words and pictures, sharing that experience with others so that they also have a sense of what it was like. So one way is to tell others. As we do in my church, the mystery of our faith being “Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again. Go and tell!”

Added note: For those of you unfamiliar with it, here's a link for more information on Uluru.

Prayer for Pride Flag-Raising

River City Pride kicked off today with the traditional flag raising at City Hall. The gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgendered and two-spirited rainbow flag flies in front of City Hall, in place of River City's municipal flag, for the week of Pride. The mayor and the chair of the Pride Festival Committee together raised the flag, where a nice breeze snapped it taut.

As pastor of the River City MCC, I traditionally bless the Pride flag and the Pride Week festivities. This is the prayer I used this year, modified only slightly from last year.

Prayer for Pride Flag Raising

Spirit of Creation, we know you by so many names—Ground of Being, Grandfather, Gaia, Higher Power, Jesus the Christ, Allah, God, Void, and so many others. Bless us, your people, as we gather to celebrate in the coming days. Bless our pride in who we are, in all our diversity, as gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgendered, intersexed, two-spirited, questioning, and straight people, as an expression of your creative love. Bless our differences that we may draw strength from them. Bless our celebration that it may show our joy in living and in health and hope. Bless those for whom it takes great courage to be present, that they may not feel alone anymore. Bless those for whom this is one in a long series of Pride celebrations, as they continue to teach us about courage and wisdom. Bless our calls for equality as we seek to live out your call for justice for all your people. Bless those who support us, who are also working for freedom and justice. Bless each of us here with your presence, and our presence, one with another. Bless this Pride flag as it flies over City Hall here in River City, a visible symbol of the justice and peace we all celebrate. And let us now, each in our own way, close this prayer. So let it be. Amen.

.

Reaction to The Good Sam

Well, several of you have asked, here on the blog and in emails, how it went over.

Sank without a ripple. No reaction afterwards. Not "Good one," nor "You might want to rethink telling stories."

In my experience, that means people are trying to decide if they liked it or not. It might have disturbed them a bit. Maybe it made them mad. Maybe they liked the point but not how I made it.

It's OK. I'm sure I'll hear more in the next few days. One thing about this congregation--they do tell me how they feel about my sermons.

And all I can say is, the Board wanted me to push the envelope. They said so in my evaluation. Can you blame me for taking them at their word?

I'll keep you posted on any more energetic reaction.

The Good Sam

(My sermon for this Sunday, July 15.)

Greg groaned and tried to stand. His head hurt, but when he tried to raise a hand to touch it, the pain his shoulder stopped him short. Slowly he remembered; the picket outside that disgusting club—Miss KittyKat’s, it was called, full of drag queens and kings, perverts, homos and lezzies of every kind. He and the others from Missionary Four-Square Bible Church had shown them the power of God’s wrath, for sure. 100 strong, they had picketed that place of sin until the police made them leave. He must have taken a wrong turn on the way back to the subway—he put a hand to his back pocket. His wallet was gone! He had been mugged! The grinding pain in his head made his knees sag and he sat down hard on the doorstep. How was he going to get home? Then the grinding pain overwhelmed him again and he fell into darkness.

Ryan hurried down the street. Marian was going to be furious, that was for sure. Ryan had promised his wife he’d be home by midnight, and here it was almost 1 am. Well, Ryan had responsibilities as chair of the River City Moral Values Coalition, and he couldn’t avoid them. He had had to be there tonight, with the picket that had been promised—and sure enough, had materialized. Three churches had worked together to be sure there were people there protesting. But the police had made them leave, as if they had no right to speak their mind in a public place. Ryan stopped short and peered into the darkness. There was someone sprawled on the steps of the building just in front of him.

The man’s head lifted, wobbling, eyes unfocused. He put out a hand. “Help me,” he croaked. “I….” And he collapsed again.

Ryan stared in disbelief. The man must be drunk—or worse, Ryan thought, reminding himself of where he was. He turned and walked quickly on down the street. No, he told himself. I’m not responsible for every drunkard and druggie I pass.

Alex ducked into the alley. It was a shorter way back to the subway, if a little more dangerous.. Against the light at the end of the alley, a silhouette moved quickly past, and Alex recognized Ryan Roberts. He looked like he was in a hurry. Hoping to catch up with him, Alex moved quickly to the end of the alley. He glanced back the way Ryan had come, in case he was being followed. A body lay sprawled over the steps of a nearby building. He scowled and turned away as the man tried to sit up. Looks like the wino got what he deserved, he thought, as he hurried to catch up with Ryan.

Miss Butt R Fly was exhausted, that was for sure Three shows tonight, and those protesters and picketers on top of it all. They had made it difficult for customers to come in for the first two shows, but they’d been cleared out by the last one. And hadn’t the customers been ready for that last show? Her nerves had been shot by the tension, but she was a trouper—she had gone on like nothing had happened. But now her feet hurt, her head hurt, and she desperately wanted to get home, pour herself some scotch and put her feet up. Maybe she’d stop at that all night curry place and pick up some dinner for herself as a special—Something caught her eye.

“Please…” the voice wavered. Miss Butt R. Fly stared in horror. It was one of the protesters! Why was he asking for help? Then she saw the gash on the side of his head—brick, she thought with the authority of experience—and his torn clothing.

“Somebody…please…” She bit her lip, started on, then shook her head and turned back. Crossing the street, she knelt beside him.

“Come on, honey. Sit up,” she said softly, helping him lean back against the railing. She dug a tissue out of her bag and began wiping the blood from his face. “Someone worked you over real good,” she murmured.

“I didn’t even see them,” he mumbled, turning his head so she could reach the blood on that side of his face. “I—they took my wallet.” Suddenly his eyes flew open as he realized who it was cleaning his face. He was too weak and in too much pain to do anything more than look alarmed and try to pull away from her. But Miss Fly wouldn’t let him, and just shook her head.

“You need Miss Fly right now,” she told him. “Be easy.” She dug in her bag again and pulled out her cell phone.

“Ali? Hi sugar. Need you to pick me up here on Magnolia and…” She craned to see. “Magnolia and Third. OK? Great, baby. See you in a few, then.” She turned back to Greg. “OK, Ali will be here in a minute with a taxi. We’ll get you settled, don’t worry.”

A few moments later, the blue taxi pulled up. Ali and Miss Butt R. Fly helped Greg in. She slid in next to him as Ali took the wheel and as he pulled away from the curb, he said, “To Jack’s?”

She nodded. “He’ll be OK there for the night, and Jack will get him home in the morning.” Again she flipped open her cell.

“Jack? Me, baby. Listen, I need to use that empty furnished apartment for a night or so. No, I wish it was for me. Someone who needs a place to stay. Thanks, then. Ali and I are on the way over.”

Soon enough the cab pulled up in front of an apartment building, and again Ali and Miss Fly helped Greg out of the car and up the few steps to the door. Jack met them at the door, and led them down the hall to the apartment. They settled Greg in bed, and Miss Fly turned to Jack, handing him an envelope.

“This should cover tonight, Jack, and tomorrow too, if he needs it. And if he needs to go to emerg, there’s some there for that too.”

“I’ll take him,” Ali spoke up.

Miss Fly looked at him gratefully. “Thanks, sugar. OK, Jack? Good. If it comes to more, well, I’ll pay you back after the competition next Friday—you know I’ll win.”

Sinking into sleep, Greg knew he was safe and protected and cared for. He struggled for a moment to stay awake, trying to work out how and why a drag queen whose club he had picketed could pick him up off the street and take care of him; but then exhaustion took over and he slept.

"Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?”

Enneagram

free enneagram test

Yep, I'm a Type 2. Mother Teresa or a manipulative s.o.b., depending on whether I'm healthy or not.

Thanks to RDQ for posting hers which led me to do the same.

We Have a Photo!

As promised, a photo of RDQ and RP at our Conference. RP is on the left (you can tell by the rainbow scarf), RDQ on the right.

Dinner, Part II

Well, I promised to let you know the results of coming out to two friends from high school.

First of all, let me say how much they both are like they were in high school. One is still a little off-centre, off-beat. The other is still serene and sweet. And they’re still friends!

We went to dinner and when the question came up about what MCC was, I took a deep breath and plunged in. The story of leaving the United Methodist Church and transferring to MCC was quickly told, and I looked from one face to the other.

“It must have been very difficult for you to do that,” said Off-Beat. “I’m impressed that you were able to speak your truth.”

“The church has a ways to go,” said Serene.

And that was it.

Now, the emails may have flown fast and furious the next day, I don’t know. But the rest of the evening passed uneventfully, just three friends hanging out talking, drinking the white wine and iced tea. And when she dropped me off, Serene said, “Be sure to let me know when you’re in town next so we can get together.”

So it was not a mad act, nor did it prove very interesting. Which is just fine with me. Anticlimax is my friend.

Monday Afternoon, Almost Back from Conference Edition

I’m physically back from Conference, but still tired and yet elated. In the interests of informing my eager readership (all three or four of you) and also of procrastinating from other things, here’s my report on General Conference.

You can read Rev. Dona Q.’s version of events on her biog (http://revdonaquixote.blogspot.com/) just be aware that there are many versions of truth. That is, I did indeed experience snorting beverages, but I think they were both RDQ’s fault. Or one was, and the other was the fault of Honest Lawyer. They were not my fault. OK, they were. But we were having fun.

Highlights for me were:

Clergy conference. Wonderful speakers (including James Nelson), powerful worship services, and incredible fellowship made these three days very special. One of the things I love about conference is getting to spend time with clergy colleagues I may email with regularly (or not so regularly—sorry, Honest Lawyer and Former Baptist!), even have lunch with—but don’t always have time to sit and talk with. Clergy conference gave us time to do that. CC was also emotional for me, as I spoke up, for the first time, in front of my clergy colleagues and my superiors in the denomination, about my frustrations and pain and anger about the way I (and many others in my position) are forced to do ministry. I hate crying in public, and there I was, in front of fifty or sixty of my colleagues, weeping. But I know I spoke for others in the room too, they were not only my tears.

General Conference. I was so proud to be living in Canada! The pastor of MCC Toronto, Rev. Dr. Brent Hawkes, has been awarded the Order of Canada for his civil rights work. This is the highest honour a Canadian citizen can earn. We gave him a standing ovation. The preachers were amazing. Like RDQ, I am so buying the CD of Rev. Lynice Pinkard’s sermon “What’s Love Got to Do With It?”—quite possibly the best sermon I have heard in my life. Bible study, business meetings, plenary sessions…much to learn, much to share. I think I even educated Brit Boy, emailing him notes from sessions between times. Got to love wifi…. I also want to mention the music at worship—consistently wonderful.

Special photo coming soon….

Conference!

I really had to resist the temptation to title this "Desert Exile."

Arizona. July. 1200 (more or less) Christians from around the world. My denominational conference.

"One of these things is not like the others, one of these things just doesn't belong. Can you tell me which thing is not like the others, by the time I finish my song?"

I know it's less expensive (relatively speaking) to have a conference in the desert in July. But oh dear Lord, the water consumption! And ten (10) (TEN!) days away from my own house and nice firm bed...and all the community projects (which I am sure will fall apart without me--NOT!). And all my friends...the Professor will have to find someone else to do wings with on Wednesdays, Monsieur won't have anyone to drink his cider with, Music Man won't have to think up words, the Yellow House will overflow with undrunk beer, Office Man won't have anyone to pick up after, and who, oh who, will keep Brit Boy in line?

Anyway, enough whinging, as Brit Boy would say. In all reality, I am looking forward to this very much. It's reunion time, it's study time, it's worship I didn't have to plan (although I am helping with it in a very very minor way), there's a bit of party time (aka "fellowship" in church talk), it's even a bit of vacation time. It will be nine days (I'm taking one day off, RDQ!) in the desert with my colleagues, my friends, my mentors, and my teachers.

I can't get packed and out the door fast enough.

I will attempt to post once or twice, but if you don't hear from me, it's because RDQ and I are by the pool with teh kd and teh Banderas, who are SO not delivering sermons this week.

Come Out, Come Out Wherever You Are, and Meet the Pastor Who Fell From A Star....

I think I'll be cross-posting this one to Lavender Chronicle...

See, the thing is this. A few years ago, my mother moved back to the town where I (and my sisters) grew up. She went back to the family church. She became active. All this is great, totally in keeping with my mother's spirit and not the point of this spiel anyway. It's just to lead into the fact that she's come to know many of the other women at the church, through Bible study and the women's group and so on. Her last name is different from mine, by the way.

Well, at the mother-daughter Mother's Day brunch last month, a woman who looked vaguely familiar sat down next to my mother, and began talking. She looked at me intently, glanced at my name tag, and asked if my last name was "Pastor." At that moment, I recognized her, she recognized me, and much laughter ensued. She and I were part of a small group (four) that spent a lot of time together in high school. We were the four musketeers of TeenyTown. One of us has moved out of state and our lives. But the fourth member is not far away, and so we agreed that the three of us remaining in-state (or sort of in-state in my case) had to get together.

It's set for this coming week--dinner at a restaurant not far from my mother's home.

But. The reunion situation wasn't one in which I could exactly come out. You don't drop that on the table in the middle of a church Mother's Day brunch, just before the nice man gives his talk on Wild Birds of Our County. I couldn't mention "my partner" as a hint because I don't have one (partner, that is; and the way things are going currently, my next partner may be a guy--which is a whole other post--and so wouldn't have helped anyway). I did give her my card, but it doesn't out me either. On the other hand, if we're going to renew our friendship, I have to come out. I spent too long in the closet to go back in.

So. I will be coming out to two old friends from high school whom I haven't seen in close to twenty years.

In telling this to my current friends, the reaction has been mixed. Brit Boy thinks I'm a "madwoman" (yes, that's a direct quote). The denizens of the Yellow House think it will be interesting. Music Man says to have an alternate form of transportation home (I'm to ride with one of my friends). The Photographer wants to be a fly on the wall. Other reactions have ranged from a shrug to "it will be fine--they were your friends," to a wistful "wish I could have done that."

Well, I'm sure my mother would have warned me if she had thought there would be "issues." She knows the one woman well enough from working with her in the church to tell me.

I guess my musings are more around the topic of coming out as a continual process (or "pro-sess" as we say in the land of maple leaves). There's always someone who hasn't heard or you've just met, a new doctor or real estate agent or whatever. Now, I know my former partner was listed in the last reunion booklet (four years ago), , so if one or the other of these ladies was paying attention they would have picked up on it. But they may not have. Or they may have and didn't want to mention it.

So. There may be no drama at all--or one or the other may be startled. But I remember these two from a long way back. I'd like to think they haven't changed much from the accepting, intelligent, friendly people they were then.

I don't think I'm a madwoman for coming out to them--even in the British sense of the word (i.e., only slightly nuts), and while it may be highly entertaining for those not involved, my guess is that, in reality, it will be low-key and no surprises, with no need for extra money for cab fare.

Stay tuned. Promise to update later.

Friday Five: Hot Town, Summer in the City...

Friday Five from the RevGalBlogPals...

...or town, or suburb, or hamlet, or burg, or unincorporated zone, or rural area of your choice---pretty much anywhere but the southern hemisphere, it's summer. (Australians and others, consider this an invitation to take a break from winter for a while.)

1. Favorite summer food(s) and beverage(s)

Food: Steamed crabs, hands down. Devilled eggs, Raspberries. Blueberries. Especially over home-made ice cream.

Beverages: Iced tea.

2. Song that "says" summer to you. (Need not be about summer explicitly.)

For some reason, “Brown-Eyed Girl.” Also “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald,” probably because it was very popular one summer when I spent a lot of time by the pool listening to the radio. Any camp song.

3. A childhood summer memory

Long car rides to visit family; this was pre-air-conditioning in cars, so it was hot and sticky and my sister always sat on my side of the backseat.

Sitting in the breezeway (screened porch between the garage and main house) with my family eating dinner or watching TV or reading. We lived out there in July and August.

4. An adult summer memory

German beer gardens, sitting under the chestnut trees, drinking a radler-mass (half lager beer, half lemon soda), eating roast chicken and listening to jazz.

Lying on the beach at Rehoboth or Dewey Beach, going into a sort of zen trance; the sound of the waves mesmerising me, the cries of the seagulls and children a counterpoint, the warmth of the sun baking me…a state between awake and asleep. Very restorative.

5. Describe a wonderful summer day you'd like to have in the near future. (weather, location, activities)

Now are we talking reality here or fantasy? I’ll do both.

Reality (i.e. what’s likely to happen): Gardening in the morning, with a leisurely lunch on the porch, followed by a stroll downtown with friends, perhaps dinner at an outdoor café, and the evening spent, again, on the porch with them in conversation and drinking good wine.

Fantasy: At my seaside cottage, with my (currently non-existent) significant other; stay abed late, luxurious brunch on the deck overlooking the water, followed by an afternoon on our beach, swimming and sunning, then dinner with friends on the deck with a sunset sail afterwards and nightcaps by the fireplace (it gets chilly by the water after dark).

I notice these have in common: friends, food, being outside, and certain beverages.. I’m not quite sure what that says about me.

Optional: Does your place of worship do anything differently in the summer? (Fewer services, casual dress, etc.)

In the past, we’ve moved to the basement. I think we’ll stay where we are for now, in a smaller room upstairs that is air-conditioned. It’s more intimate, anyway.

Books!

Sally has made me jealous by reporting her trip to the Cambridge (England) book shops. As a result of her trip (well, she was really there for a conference), she offered the following Friday Five.

1. 1. Fiction what kind, detective novels, historical stuff, thrillers, romance????

Mostly literary—historical or modern-type literary. Some science fiction and fantasy, but I have gotten extremely picky about that over the years. I have a few favourite SF/fantasy authors who I pretty much stick to (Guy Gavriel Kay, Joan Vinge, Dan Simmons, to name a few), unless someone whose taste I trust recommends another one.

2. When you get a really good book do you read it all in one chunk or savour it slowly?

Oh, savour. I rarely have time to read a whole book at once anyway—or even quickly.

3. Is there a book you keep returning to and why?

King Hereafter, by Dorothy Dunnett. Her contention is that MacBeth (yes, of Shakespeare fame) and Thorfinn were the same person—it’s an obscure bit of Scottish history, but she does magic with it. KH is multilayered, historically accurate, and heartbreaking. DD creates the most amazing characters—they’re not cardboard, not puppets. At the same time, she makes you (the reader) work a bit—she rarely has the characters explain anything outright, so you have to pay attention to implications and hidden meanings and remember what was said about the topic before… Yes, there are mental gymnastics involved. But her Thorfinn is one of the most amazing literary characters of all time. I read it slowly, then when I finish, let it sit a week or two so I can recover—then start it again.

4. Apart from the Bible which non-fiction book has influenced you the most?

Coming Out Spiritually, by Christian de la Huerta. I’ve mentioned this amazing book before here. Christian makes the point that to come out as a gay man, lesbian, bisexual person or transgender person is not enough—we must also “come out” in a spiritual sense. We must claim our spiritual identity as well as our sexual/gender identity. I read it at least once a year. If Christian offers a workshop at a conference or meeting you are attending, I highly recommend it. He will expand your mind in ways you didn’t think it could go, trust me.

5. Describe a perfect place to read. ( could be anywhere!!!)

My favourite is on a porch, in rocking chair, with a glass of lemonade or iced tea at hand, my feet up, and some good music floating out from the open window. Paradise. It doesn’t matter where that porch/deck is, either—ocean beach, lake, mountains, back yard…any or all are good!

(please note: I have tried several times to correct the formatting, but Blogger isn't playing nice today)

Better Preaching Through Less Writing

I had my annual evaluation yesterday.

I like this Board. I received a very constructive evaluation. Sometimes an evaluation is, “You’re great, we love you,” which is nice, but not helpful. Sometimes it’s “We think you’re awful, we can’t wait until your contract expires,” which is not pleasant or helpful. This Board does a good job.

One of the suggestion/comments has had me thinking ever since. They thought the sermons I preached from outlines were actually more engaging and real than the ones I preached from a manuscript. As some of you may remember, I did preach from outlines for a while earlier this year, but went back to manuscripts (I don’t remember why).

The truth is, at least for yesterday, that procrastination and the temptation of time spent with friends instead of the sermon got the best of me this past week—so while I knew where I wanted to go with the sermon, I hadn’t sat down with it and worked on it. So what I preached from was my outline (detailed), with needed facts, quotes, names, etc—factual stuff—written in, and the rest left to me, or more accurately, to the Holy Spirit moving in me. Well, the Spirit did some moving indeed—turned out to be a good sermon, and they said so.

My seminary preaching professors kept pushing us to preach from outlines, and I resisted greatly.

But now I have to admit, they were right. Imagine that!

With the manuscript, I was tied to that as to what to say—of course I would depart from time to time, but most of what I said was right there in front of me, and I didn’t feel free to go beyond it—and I didn’t have the spontaneity of simply talking, either.

So I’m going back to outlines for a while. It doesn’t mean any less preparation—but it may allow me to improve my preaching!

Friday Five, Travel Edition

Friday Five!

Cathy of the RevGalBlogPals ring asks:

Suppose you were told to pack some essentials for a trip to get away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

Describe your location, in general or specific terms and....

1) What book(s) will you bring?
2) What music accompanies you?
3) What essentials of everyday living must you take (as in the health and beauty aids aisle variety)?
4) What technological gadgets if any, will you take with you or do you leave it all behind?
5) What culinary delights will you partake in while there?

As a bonus question, what makes for a perfect day on vacation for you?

Well, this one is near and dear to my heart. I’m up to my nose in stuff—I realized the other day that I have exactly three days in June with nothing scheduled—which means I’ll be using them for writing sermons. July is going to be even worse, I think, with my denomination’s conference the first week, three weddings, and our local Pride celebration (for which I am vice-chair) the rest of the month. I am so getting away in August.

Location: At the moment, I’m leaning towards my favourite retreat centre, GilChrist, in southern Michigan. I had a very fulfilling week there this past fall. On the other hand, that would be solitary, and while in some ways I will probably want a break from people, I’m not sure I want to be totally alone. On the other other hand, I don’t have a special someone to go anywhere with, so it may be a moot point. Maybe the ideal location would be one that offers opportunities for both socializing and solitary reflection.

Books: A mix of fun things I’d like to read and may even have started but haven’t been able to find enough me-time to read and those things I want to read for professional development or that are simply more serious. Are we looking for titles? Here are a few: Iliad, Dan Simmons; Praying Twice, Brian Wren; The History of Sexuality Michel Foucault; In Memory of Her, Elisabeth Schuessler Fiorenza; The Gospel and Science Fiction, Gabriel McKee; catching up with my New Yorkers.

Music: A mix of kd lang (of course), my meditation music,and Loreena McKennitt, with Brit Boy’s house music mixes (great for a workout), and some Bob Seger and Jimmy Buffett for road music.

Essentials: Shampoo. Toothpaste and brush, hairbrush. Soap. Deodorant. Razor. That’ll do it.

Technology: Well, if I had an iPod, I’d take that, but as it is, I’ll take a CD player (whether personal or portable), and my laptop. Even if there’s no Internet (maybe especially if there isn’t) since that’s how I now write—journals, letters, etc..

Food: The meals I enjoyed on my retreat last fall have set a pattern for me. Roast chicken, cheese, salad, fruit, crackers, eggs (a variety of ways). A few relishes and snacks—sweet gherkins, lime corn chips. Of course, that’s for a retreat where I’m doing the cooking. If I were at a hotel/resort/spa/B&B, I’d explore whatever is good locally—specialties, local wines/beers, fruits, etc.

Perfect day: sleep later (but not too late), journal on the deck/balcony over coffee, big breakfast, sight-seeing/shopping/seminar/galleries with a congenial companion in the morning, late lunch, back to home base for reading/writing/swim/walk, then with/after dinner conversation with a larger group. The rest depends on the company…!!

Graduation, Exhausted Edition

Ten hours each way driving by myself.

One son, graduated.

One friend and her daughter, baptised.

Many meals (steamed crabs, BBQ, Pakistani, Italian), eaten.

Many friends, reunited; many more stories told and memories remembered.

One exhausted RP heading for bed.

Good night.