maundy thursday in our house

rainy day
one kid sick
three cups of coffee consumed
more under consideration
countless projects to work on
hubby working late
not complaining
peace and potential

Bandits

Sunday was glorious. We got to spend time with an old friend (Carolena's Godmother "Denny") who came to church with us and spent the afternoon eating lunch with us at home. I accidentally ate three plates of food. But I mean... in my defense... it was good.

Denny brought Nils a little safari vest from her recent trip to Africa and that kid loves it. He put it right on yelling, "zip! zip!" (the whole front of it has a zipper). Once he had it on C said to him, "Nils! You can wear that to the zoo!" I'll try to get a pic of him in it later. I'm excited to see what treasures we'll find in those pockets as he wears it around.

I led a Quiet Day for our church last weekend. When I teach for my own church I don't charge but they surprised me with a Starbucks giftcard yesterday! What?! Unexpected surprises are so fabulous. I figured it would have enough for me to get a latte and was giddy... and then I registered it on the website and saw that it has enough money on it for me to get reeeeallllyyyy caffeinated! Party! Party! Evidently those women know me well. The way to my heart is definitely through coffee.

And now, I leave you with the story I told C this morning:
When we lived in Austin, shortly after C was born a friend send us a Greenling box (a big box that arrives full of awesome local food). It was such a great gift. A few months later we went out of town and arrived home to another Greenling gift on our doorstep... which the racoons had discovered before we did. The box was ripped open and food was strewn all over the doorstep. Everything had little tastes gone or was ripped apart. Everything was there. Everything except the caramel corn. We later found the empty bag.

So, the moral of the story is: no matter what you eat today, unless you taste and reject a bunch of healthy food and then only eat caramel corn, at least you are one step ahead of the racoons.

Zoo Days and Holy Days

Yesterday began with a list. "Pick up the car with the repaired tire." "Run by the church to scan and send something." "Finish prepping for Saturday's Quiet Day." "Insurance blah blah." "Grocery store." "Etc. Etc. Etc."

Yesterday began with a list.
And a phone call from my sister.

The phone call from my sister led to ditching most of the list and heading to the zoo. Time spent with family is always time well spent. Time spent at the zoo is always time well spent. Time spent outside when the weather is perfect is always time well spent. Holy days.

This morning began with a Quiet Day. I led my sisters at church through a day of reflection and meditation. Quiet. Study. Reflection. Holiness.

Nils is sleeping. Carolena is painting. It is a holy day indeed. Holy days abound.

ABCs of today

Addicted. It's Sunny in Philadelphia. Netflix. Need I say more? Okay, I'll say more. I love Charlie Day. I think he is so adorable and told Chris that if there were a movie version of our lives Charlie Day would play Chris. I then reenacted a scene from It's Sunny in which Charlie's teeth fall out because he never brushes them... Chris was not amused but rather bemused (Chris brushes his teeth). "It's the actor! Not the character that reminds me of you!" I'm not sure he bought it.

Back and Bootcamp and Birthday- I strained a muscle in my upper back yesterday (no, Mom, no tooo badly. Just like a big knot) and it's too sore to go to bootcamp tomorrow. I'm totally bummed about this as tomorrow is my birthday. Does that sound crazy to you? For people's birthdays in bootcamp we do everything in sets of their age. So tomorrow we were going to do 33s. I'm bummed.

Coffee, what else? Despite my neurologist's recommendation to keep caffeine to two cups of coffee a day, I've been letting it creep up again. It's always a caffeine roller-coaster around here. Not really a caffeine roller-coaster... coffee. Just coffee.

Dirty. Well, maybe not dirty but messy... our house that is. I've been trying to clean all week and it's messier than when I began. How does that happen?! I think because I'm trying to clean out and reorganize and not just hide away all of the crap. Our house is weird because we have several areas that are basically empty (like the cabinets underneath all of our bathroom sinks) but then we have crapola everywhere that doesn't seem to have a place to go. Reorganizing makes everything so messy. Messy, not dirty.

Erik Weihenmayer aka My New Hero. Remember how I only want to talk about Everest or Antarctica? Well, guess what... Erik Weihenmayer has been to both. He's done the Seven Summits and is so lovable and, oh by the way, he does all of this blind. I need everyone to read his book so we can talk about him all of the time. I emailed his facebook contact page and got a reply from his manager (or some such person). She asked me where I live so that they can consider inviting me to an upcoming talk. Oh my gosh I reeaaalllly want to go hear him speak. Now I just need to figure out what I'm going to do to sign up for his No Barriers commitment. Let's all do it. It doesn't have to be a physical challenge. Anyone else want to sign up?

Freaking stalker... yikes. If all I want to do is talk about Sir Ernest Shackleton that's fine. But somehow having my new hero be someone living makes me sound like a stalker... I'm not, just to be clear. Although if Erik Weihenmayer lived nearby I would invite his family over for dinner... sooo... hmm. Just read the damn book and you'll feel the same way. Trust me, I never throw out a broad "you have to read this" to everyone I know, but this one. Yep. Read it.

Girl Scout Cookies. I think the solution to the "I want to buy a bunch but not eat a bunch" problem is to purchase the "Thanks A Lots" and give them to people for whom you are thankful. We bought four boxes of cookies, ate two, and have two to give away. Perfect solution. I can't wait for kids to join scouts (years from now I'm going to be up to my eyeballs in cookies and popcorn and look back on that sentence and roll my eyes).

Hoopla. We just realized our library has Hoopla and we can borrow digital media - ummm awesome! So at the moment we're listening to Disney audio books. C is snuggled up on the floor and Nils is wandering around with Pup-pup and King Julian (his two lovies).

Ingredients. The ingredients we always have on hand? Ingredients for red beans and rice, homemade pizza, pasta, and stir-fry. These are my go-to meals when I don't feel like going to the grocery store. Except that I always forget about stir-fry so we pretty much never have that.

Jimmers. When I went to Beaumont this week the plan was to come back with Jimmers' boyhood dresser aka my childhood dresser aka Nils' new dresser. With Jimmers' help I filled the entire bed of the truck. I came back with the dresser, an awesome ancient trunk, a small table for the backyard, two huge cubbies from my old preschool, and two blue velvet wing-back chairs. Needless to say, Chris was surprised.

Katie. Oh thank God for Katie. Katie is the first friend I made after we moved here and she is fabulouso. We have kids around the same age and they all love each other so that works out nicely. Nils talks about her boys pretty much all of the time. Last Friday while our husbands were at Dio Council Katie had us over for pizza and ice cream and when bedtime came I tossed my kiddos into pjs and one out of two fell asleep on the drive home. Since Friday every single time we've gone anywhere at all Nils has cheered "Cooper and Charlie's house!" and is disappointed ("ooohhh") when we pull into anywhere that isn't their house.

Lent. The day before Ash Wednesday this year I was still like, "Oh yeah... Lent... I don't feel like it this year" but then I recalled that Lent is about remembering that I am not the Creator. I am the creation. So, perhaps the years when I'm "not into it" are the most important years of all. Perhaps those are the years when I most need to remember that I am not God. So, I'm doing it. Lent, that is.

My mom. I'm in the mood for my mom to come visit. We can go thrift-storing and hang up pictures in my house and rearrange furniture and watch chick flicks. Come over, Mom! It will be fun fun fun!

Nils. That little guy is hilarious. Like, purposely hilarious. Yesterday evening the kids went to the neighbors' house to play. I made dinner with our back door open and listened to the squeals of happiness coming from the yard next door. Being old enough to go play with the kids next door? What fun for all of those kiddos!

Oatmeal. My current breakfast. Old fashioned oats, a sprinkling of chocolate chips, and a spoonful of peanut butter all stirred together. Yum.

Piney Wood Fever. We came back from Beaumont with sore throats and itchy eyes. Why is that always the case when it's the same eco-system? Carolena walked through the kitchen yesterday and said in a croaky voice, "Well, it feels like I've got the Piney Woods Fever." Ha! Piney Woods Fever! That kid. From henceforth all southeast Texas allergies shall be known as "Piney Woods Fever."

Quest. I'm on a quest to find a bicycle built for two. Not a quest like I'm looking online and going to buy one for a couple hundred dollars quest. A quest like I'm checking Goodwill often and hopefully this quest will end with me paying like $50 and laughing manically every time I ride it that someone marked it $50. That kind of quest. I'm also on a quest for vintage hats. 

Rush. I'm really excited about our birthday present for my nephew Rush this year. I had to clear it with my sister, but if you don't want me to ruin the surprise then stop reading. Ready? A jar of worms. Hahaha. Really. Yeah. I think I'm going to make one for us too. I'm going to put layers of dirt into a big jar (with holes in the lid, of course) and then fill it with worms. It's going to be awesome. Don't you wish I were your aunt too?

See America First. Oh my gosh - while at my parent's house my mom gave me a big trunk with a See America First sticker on it. I'm giddy. See America First?! That trunk must be like 100 years old. I wonder who put that sticker on it. I wonder where they went. My RPTS side is geeking out.

Too damn early. Why are my kids waking up too damn early everyday?! Stay in bed! Sleep! Geeze Louise.

Under our bed. We have more things stored under our bed than under my bathroom sink. That seems strange to me.

Vacuum. Yep, we got a new one. Again.

Walrus. "Carolena, if I didn't know any better I would think you were a baby koala" I said to which she innocently replied, "Mommy, if I didn't know any better I would think you were a big fat walrus swimming in the sea." Evidently if you are 4.5 then baby koala and big fat walrus are comparable in the list of okay things to call another human.

X - x was Carolena's letter of the week this week and she brought in a T-Rex. We thought and thought and thought about what to bring. The morning her letter bag was due we still had nothing for it... until I tripped over the T-Rex, picked that sucker up, and tossed him in the bag. Thanks Carolena's school homework guardian angel!

Yesac. That's my backwards name. Amileen and I used to love figuring out how to pronounce everyone's names backwards in elementary school. Huh, Amileen is now probably what you think her name was... it was Neelima. Or was it...? Now you're confused... bwa ha ha!

Zoo! Tomorrow is my birthday and we're going to spend the day at the zoo. I can't wait. I love my birthday (yeah, I'll admit it) and I'm going to live it up. I was going to start the day with bootcamp, but alas, I guess I'll start the day some other way. I'm definitely getting Starbucks though. Probably. Maybe. Eh... I'll just make coffee at home. And then we're going to the zoo! Hooray! The zoo is one of our family's favorite outings. Everyone has a blast. We get to be outside. Kids are consistently well-behaved there. Zoo! Zoo! Zoo!

Why Is It Always the Beths?

Alternate post title: The Beth's Have It.

One of my very favorite people in the whole world is my friend Beth. She's awesome. A different Beth than the last one.

I met this Beth sporadically at random times in the life of the clergy of our diocese. She's an Episcopal priest and I'm married to one so we ran into one another from time to time. She knew Chris well and so we would be like, "oh yeah. We've met... uh... hi...???'

And then I became the interim missioner of the campus ministry at t.u. 
And Beth became the missioner there.
So we had some overlap while I "taught her the ropes."

Okay, I was supposed to be holding down the fort/teaching her the ropes/helping her transition/etc. But in reality Beth is one of the most intelligent capable go-for-it people I've ever met so she came in and took over (in a great way), and I would come to work at whatever hour I felt like, dump my hugely pregnant self into a chair in my office, eat queso, and read Harry Potter. You would think that this would have made Beth despise me. But it didn't. Now that I know Beth I'm pretty sure this is what made her love me. Had I been super-helpful and in her face and still trying to run the place she would have loathed me. I think the fact that I just let her take over sealed the deal. That combined with and all of the queso and Harry Potter. Being from Virginia Beth swears she has to now eat enough queso in adulthood to make up for the years before she moved to Austin. Yeah, see why we're friends?

Beth and I had no "becoming friends" phase. We went instantly to being BFF. We have a shared love of reading and she is one of the few people who can give me books and I don't feel like "oh crap... do I have to actually read this like homework now?" She is one of those people who can talk about anything. If I want to talk her face off about polar exploration she will listen attentively and (at least pretend) like what I'm saying is as fascinating as I imagine. She is up for an adventure pretty much all of the time so if I say something like "I was reading about Kenya..." she will tell a story about being in Kenya. Or sailing in Maine. Or climbing Mt. Everest during the 1996 disaster. Okay, I made that last one up.

Beth's awesome. And that's why on Sunday I found myself wearing her hand-me-down shirt and groovy patterned tights. Because I'm like the technically older, younger sister she never had. Which might be why she puts up with me.

Luckily we bamboozled her into being Nils' godmother so she's pretty much stuck with me for life.

If You Give Casey a Nativity Scene

If you give a mouse a cookie, she'll want a glass of milk.

People always check out nativity scenes.

And then people always look back up from mine and glare at me in shock. "Why is baby Jesus already in your manger?! It isn't Christmas yet!" and sometimes they even go so far as to start shuffling magi farther "east."

It happens every year. Every. Single. Year.
Evidently this is something akin to being a Grinch before his heart expands a bit. *gasp* Baby Jesus in the manger from the get-go! The horror!
And I don't know what I usually say, but it isn't this:

If baby Jesus isn't in the manger and the wisemen wait until Epiphany to get there... THEN...

Then why are Mary and Joseph there? Shouldn't they be traveling?

And if I remove Mary and Joseph too, then we've just got a nativity with shepherds milling about.
BUT WAIT!

If I'm planning to put wisemen in the nativity then there shouldn't even be any shepherds. Because if I have magi tucked away to make their grand entrance for Epiphany then we're going with Matthew's version of the nativity so it's a no-go on shepherds. And, actually, if that's the case, and I have a Matthean nativity scene then it isn't a manger scene at all! Matthew says magi visit the "house" (2:11). Hmmm... so if I'm going with wisemen then we ditch the entire manger gig all together. BUT...

But if I'm sticking with a Lucan nativity then we'll go with a manger scene... and instead toss the magi and bright star. BUT THEN the shepherds don't arrive until AFTER Jesus' birth so now we just have an empty barn. Except that people didn't have barns like we think of barns, they kept animals in little caves in the hillside so I've got to find a big rock and carve that out instead. SOOOOO...

So if baby Jesus isn't in the manger, and the wisemen are waiting until Epiphany, THEN why are Mary and Joseph not also on the road? Why are there shepherds milling about the manger scene? Who is making an appearance, shepherds or magi?! Should this all be taking place in a house or a small hill-side cave? AND WHY DOES MY NATIVITY HAVE A ZEBRA AND A GIRAFFE IN IT?!?!?!?!?!



gasp for air. gasp for air.
breathe.
breathe.

*evidently* I can't go for the "accuracy" of the timing of baby Jesus and the magi.

So, yeah, when you come to my house on December 6th, baby Jesus and all the gang (shepherds, magi, zebra, and giraffe) are all there in the very American Gothic style barn... just exactly as it happened so very long ago.

And if you ask me why baby Jesus isn't hidden away to be placed in the manger on December 25, I'll probably just laugh, and tell you that while I really don't care at all what other people do with their nativity scenes, mine just have to stay complete, because... to put it simply... I really overthink things.

Rejoice! Rejoice!

Sometimes a few days at home is just what the doctor ordered. And no, I don't mean my own grown-up life-in-suburbia two-kids-and-two-cats home. I mean home home. ET phone home. Big Money Texas. Beaumont, y'all. There's just something about driving down I-10 and seeing a huge alligator welcome you to Beaumont that just screams... well, I'm not sure what that screams actually... something.

Ah, yes, a few days at home with my family was wonderful. I slept in my own room. Well, for like five seconds. I slept in Hunter's room for two nights as I crashed while tucking in C and spent a few sleepless nights shushing N from Kelly's bed as well. Evidently we like to leave my mother with sheets to wash on every single bed. Sorry, Mom. Carolena came home talking about how the Piney Woods make you sneeze to which I like to respond in a weird creepy Cajun/country/made up accent, "Yyyeeeeppp, that's liiife behiiind the piiiine currrtain. I was born in that there briar patch."

I never claim(ed) to be normal.

We ate fabulous food (but awesomely not toooo much of it), danced the Charleston (because, duh), played games (nope, other people did that. I read BFrank's bio), and were just happy to all be together.

But, as all good things must come to an end, Saturday morning arrived and the piney woods had taken their toll. My sinuses have forgotten how to survive in such extreme circumstances. My children were exhausted. My mother was remembering her own Benjamin Franklin research ("fish and visitors" you know). So we loaded up the plethora of Coke glasses I'd reclaimed from the attic (I'm sure Chris is thrilled) and headed home.

We came home with a pile of dirty laundry (because I did not heed my mother's advice to wash it before leaving) and arrived to a completely empty refrigerator. So I started a load of laundry and hopped out to the grocery store.

Chris tossed our bags into our bedroom and we started hauling down the Christmas decorations. A tree was purchased and decorated. Lights were strung up outside. I pulled out white paper and started cutting out snowflakes galore. I have priorities after all. The laundry will eventually get done. The grocery buying can wait. But the joy and anticipation of Advent? The excitement and wonder of incarnation? The mystery of love and God among us in a hurting and war-torn world? Yeah, I'm ready to get into that. So we pulled out the things that we claim as "Christmas" and started pouring them all over our household. There is so much in this world that I can't control. There is so much anger and hate and hurt. But you know what I can control? Whether or not there is a 7ft tree taking up residence in the living room. Yeah, we're ready for Advent. We're ready for a season of hope. A season of reflecting on peace, on Emmanuel.

So this morning we awoke to a twinkling Christmas tree. A good-smelling-happiness-inducing slice of Advent. A reminder of hope. A reminder of peace. A reminder that God is with us. Nils stares at it in impish wonder and joy. His face glows in merriment that can't be contained nor described. "Tree! Tree!" he exclaims while dancing and pointing. Carolena sighs and stares dreamily at its twinkling lights. They know nothing of the hurt and pain of the world. They know only of love and comfort and joy. Children at Christmas time. I'm just ready for that.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.

Bible Study Day: The Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day Solution

I led Children's Chapel at church today and if I do say so myself (and it's my blog, so I do) - the lesson was a good one for people of all ages to hear.

These were the readings we heard in church today. Read them or don't. None of the kids listened and Children's Chapel worked out just fine so don't feel bad if you don't feel like clicking on a link to the lectionary.

Ever read Alexander and the Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day? That's pretty much what the lectionary readings were. So we read Alexander in Children's Chapel. And here's the deal:

People have terrible horrible no good very bad days. That's a part of life. Luckily, scripture shows us time and time again that having a complete melt-down over them is just fine. Ever read the Psalms? Melt-downs. Seriously. I took a class on the Psalms in seminary and there is an entire category in which you can label a Psalm "complaint or lament." God is just fine with people sitting on the end of his bed and sobbing about a terrible horrible no good very bad day. Just fine. In fact he will probably pass you some bon-bons and a tissue and let you wail as long as you need to.

And it gets better. Not only does God want us to give voice to our sufferings (seriously, he invites people in scripture to it all of the time), he often has a plan. A new plan. A better one. How about Hagar who was pregnant with some old dude's baby (sorry Abraham, but really) and had to live as a servant in his household and wait on his wife who "dealt harshly with her" (Genesis 16:6)? Hagar meets none other than God's angelic diplomat in the wilderness who says to her "what's wrong?" (Genesis 16:8). The angel knows Hagar's name and that she is Sarai's slave-girl and yet still asks, "what are you doing?" If that isn't an invitation to vent a terrible horrible no good very bad day(s) then I don't know what is. So Hagar does. She is asked to return to the home of Abram & Sarai and later ends up hanging out with the angel in the desert again where God makes a new plan for Hagar(that's a terrible summary, just read it lazy bum: Genesis 21:8-21).

You know who else vents a terrible horrible no good very bad day to God and gets a new plan? A little guy we like to call... oh... maybe you've heard of him... ELIJAH. Elijah has pissed off the people in power (specifically Jezebel) who then gives him a death threat (1 Kings 19:1-2). Once again God comes and says "what's happening?" to which Elijah is invited to give voice to his suffering. "Everybody wants to kill me!!!" he says (which mmmmaaayyy have been a slight exaggeration but is for sure how he felt). And what does God do? He makes a new plan for Elijah. 1 Kings 19 if you want to pick it up.

So, what should you do when you are in the midst of a terrible horrible no good very bad day? Vent. Pray about it like the Psalmist prays (today's Psalm included "My God, my God why have you foresaken me? and are so far from my cry and from the words of my distress?" and that's just the intro! Psalm 22). Give voice to your suffering and tell God all about it. God wants to be in relationship with his people. We all know relationships require some venting.

And then prayerfully get a new plan. As the kiddos talked about at church this morning, there are plenty of people in your life who love you and want to help you. Think about who those people are. Ask them to help you make the new plan.

And for heaven's sake, remember: EVERYONE has a terrible horrible no good very bad day sometimes. Even in Australia.

Clergy Spouse Confessions: Spousal Support

Every year I know that the fall is going to be busy. And yet every freaking year I do nothing to prepare for it. It's like I see the hurricane icon swirling on the map and all of the little lines projecting pathways only to my house, and then I'm like, "oh hell let's just see what happens." Maybe some year I'll think to fill up some water bottles and purchase some batteries, but alas, once again, we're swirling around in the hurricane winds wondering where some damn dry matches might be.

Every clergy spouse reading this right now is nodding.

The fall is just BUSY. Busy might be an understatement though. Busy as in, sometimes the person who makes up the clergy portion of the clergy family works everyday kind of busy. I don't mean to lesson the busy-ness of others. And actually, *helllooo hypocrisy* I hate when people talk about how busy they are. I'm lucky enough to have a spouse that isn't a work-a-holic. But busy is just how it is.

I'm not the kind of spouse that is "anti" everything. I'm actually totally into it. I love the Episcopal Church. I'm the one who raises her hand when asked on the spouse retreat, "who's kind of into the whole church thing?" as opposed to raising it for "who wants to just sleep in on Sundays?" So that means that I'm teaching Adult Christian Education every week and leading Children's Chapel here and there along with all of the other things that pop up. Plus I can't stop signing up for things for the fall. What the hell is wrong with me?!

But I'm actually not complaining right now. I kind of like the franticness. Is that sick? I love fall in the clergy family. It's crazy and insane and busy and ministry ministry ministry. And it's an exhausting blur of signups and smiles and love and feeling too tired to function and scheduling days on our calendar that say "family day! nothing else!"

I just need to remember to be better prepared for it. I thought about it this year. In August I filled the freezer with frozen meals and crockpot dinners and muffins. And then I was so proud and excited to be ready for September and October that we ate them all.

And by that I mean we ate them all before life got too busy to deal with dinner.

Crap.

Luckily we (the kids and I) don't have anything that we have to do tomorrow. So Halloween crafting and cooking to refill the freezer are on the agenda. Except just the former and not the latter because I really can't handle going to the grocery store for a third time this week. It is only Monday night after all. And returning library books... we've got to do that for sure. And hopefully go get flu shots. Because dear Lord we do NOT have time for the flu around here.

A few months ago (like last spring) I was thinking about contacting other minister's wives of all denominations in Katy and starting some sort of group. Then I blew it off because, eh. Reasons. Excuses. Life. The usual. Anyway - I guess the Holy Spirit started the group anyway because randomly THREE of us all exercise together at 515 in the morning three times a week. Weird, huh? A methodist minister's wife, an episcopal priest's wife, and a nondenominational pastor's wife all walk into bootcamp... sounds like the start of a lame joke to me.

Thanks to the 515 meeting of my clergy spouse support group I know that I am not the only one who didn't put together the hurricane preparedness kit this year. Whew. Next year... next year...

Bible Study Day: The Sower and the Seeds (Annnndddd...)

It's hard to start blogging again when one has fallen out of the habit. I have plenty of false starts (aka "drafts") in my blog. I sit down, I write a post, and then I stare at it and think "why?" When I'm blogging daily (or almost daily) I'll just post anything. When I've stopped blogging it's hard to post again. Because... why?

So, in an attempt to get back in I'll tell you about what I've learned studying Mark this week (the Gospel that is, not my father in law) because I'm blown away by learning something NEW. Without further a do, prepare to be blown away by Mark (unless of course you already know this in which case here you go).

The Gospel of Mark is meant to be read rapidly with a feeling of frantic movement to the cross. It should give the reader that kind of hyper nervous foreboding feeling. John the Baptist is arrested for his ministry right as Jesus begins his. That can't be good. Jesus is in conflict with the religious authority. Good versus evil with spirits being cast out right and left. It is a hyper kind of book. Need more on that? If you were reading it in Greek you would find that many of the sequences are linked by the word "and" or "and immediately" causing you to keep reading and reading and reading. It's meant to be a page turner that you carry into the bathroom and then ignore your family as you screech out, "I just have to finish this part!" even though you know Mark is tricking you because "this part" will end with "and immediately..." and you'll just have to finish the next part as well (I learned that from my Oxford Annotated).

All of that kind of gets lost in English (here you go) because in English all of those "ands" and "and immediatelys" would just slow us down so editors took a lot of them out. But in Koine Greek... ohhhh yeahhh. It would be awesome. SOOOO... now knowing that. Go read Mark 4:1-32. Yes, really, all of that. Just plug it in here. And, as I like to tell my Sunday School classes, you don't have to read it slowly and carefully and painstakingly with a fine tooth comb. Really. It's okay. Just read it like you're reading this.

Okay, read it? Did you notice anything? Sower and the seeds... yeah yeah yeah. We know about that. And then Jesus is kind enough to work it all out for us. Thanks (Son of) Man, we needed that. BUT THEN... HE KEEPS GOING!!!!

WHAT?!?!?!?!

I've never noticed that before now. No one has ever shown me that. I've always been taught Sower and the Seeds as standing kind of alone. But here, in Mark, IT DOESN'T!! Jesus teaches the parable to a big group of people in Mark 4:1-9 then in 10 were told that he is now alone with the twelve and a small group and he begins to teach again. He explains the parable to them (notice here that HE is the sower - not us) and then Mark pulls his little "and then" maneuver. Jesus is STILL SITTING with this same group. He is STILL TEACHING on this same topic. And he KEEPS GOING! So why do we stop there?!

Let's keep going! I'm using the New Oxford Annotated Bible and the New Interpreter's Bible Commentary (VIII) and my own reason (Episcopalian, Hollah!).

I feel like it is fairly safe to say we can just rest with Sower and the Seeds as is. Jesus did a pretty good job of explaining his parable so I'll leave it at that. And then he keeps going. Jesus says  

"Is a lamp brought in to be put under the bushel basket, or under the bed, and not on the lampstand?" (Mark 4:21)

This makes sense doesn't it? Let's go to simple reason for this one. I read before bed every night (or at least fall asleep snuggling with a book). I turn on my bedside lamp, snuggle with my book, and read. What would you think if I turned on my lamp, threw a wool blanket over it, and plopped down with a book? Or turned on my lamp, shoved it under my bed, and opened a magazine, squinting to read the fine print? Nuts, right? Okay... that makes sense... but what does this have to do with the Sower and the Seeds? Jesus is flipping metaphors here so to speak. You were soil... now you are a lamp. Your job isn't to worry about what kind of soil everyone else is. Your job is to be light. Don't toss a blanket on your head or hide under the bed. Sit on the bedstand and shine shine shine. That's what the good soil does. It turns into a lamp (very logical) and shines. It doesn't judge whether or not other soil is good or not. It just shines.

But wait! There's more!
Jesus then tells this small group that the things he is telling them here in this smaller group in this more private setting are not in fact meant to be private. This isn't a big secret forever. It's meant to be told (Mark 4:22-23). Context matters greatly - in life, in reading anything, in reading Scripture. This part makes sense only if you know that Jesus is sitting and explaining a parable to a small group.

But wait! There's more!
Jesus keeps going. Remember how Mark loves "and then"?

"and then he said to them, "Pay attention to what you hear; the measure you give will be the measure you get, and still more will be given you. For to those who have, more will be given; and from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away" (Mark 4:24-5).

Now, speaking for myself here, what?! If I were just reading and not studying (yes, I see a difference) I would skip that part. But alas, studying requires stopping. What the heck is Jesus talking about? Oh... wait... FAITH (thanks NIBC!). Reread that and think about faith. Think about faith as muscles (hellllo cliche!). The more you exercise your faith the greater and stronger it will grow. Those who don't live in faith and hide it (or throw a basket over their lamp so to speak) will snuff themselves out. Ah, makes sense.

But wait! There's more!
Yes, the teaching surrounding the Sower and the Seeds KEEPS GOING. This is all still in the context of sitting and talking with a small group discussing the parable. "He also said...

'The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how. The earth produces of itself, first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain in the head. But when the grain is ripe, at once he goes in with his sickle, because the harvest has come" (Mark 4:26-29).

Wow. Miraculous. Have you ever grown anything? It's kind of like that. We grew sunflowers this year and it was actually exactly like that. I tossed a bunch of seeds in some pots (not in rows, just tossed) and literally stirred the soil with my hands. And then I walked away. And they grew. Those suckers grew like crazy. They flowered and the flowers were full of seeds and I popped them open and did it again. And they are growing again. I like to stand by them and think, "wow. This has nothing to do with me" and marvel at the miracle. Jesus says that's what the kingdom of God is like. Here you get to be the sower. Notice again that you aren't to worry about anything. You just go back to being light so to speak. You toss out the Word of God and just do your thing and in some crazy way in which you "don't know how" (Mark 4:27) it grows. You leave the worrying about the Kingdom to God. You just go be light and throw seeds out indiscriminately and "sleep and rise night and day." God will worry about the watering and tending and soil fertilizing. Yes, for heaven's sake, no fertilizing the soil. No one wants you dumping manure in their soil.

But wait! There's more!
Yes, the Sower and the Seeds explanation and teaching KEEPS GOING. "He also said...

"He also said, ‘With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade" (Mark 4:30-32).

If you grew up going to church then you have seen a mustard seed. At some point in your childhood or youth some adult showed up to Sunday School and passed around the smallest seed ever. An impossibly small seed. And you held it in your little paw and being a modern American who has no concept of growing seeds thought in some child capacity of thoughts, "Hey! A mustard seed. yummm... mustard... hotdogs..." If you haven't seen a mustard seed (ever or in adulthood) the next time you're in the grocery store stop by the herbs. Check out the mustard seeds. They are in fact insanely small. And just for good measure, pop "mustard tree" into Google images. It's fun. Trust me. {uh oh... when I did that actual mustard trees came up... hopefully that's what comes up when you do it and not something weird...}

But wait! There's more!
Just kidding. That's it. But really... that's it?! Wow. Jesus actually had a tremendous amount to say in light of the Sower and the Seeds parable. Why do we cut it short? We leave it off at 4:20. But Jesus keeps going... and going... and going. And reread (or at least scan) and you'll see it's obvious. "He said to them" and "he also said" and "And he said to them" and "he also said" - it's all back to back to back teachings to the same group of people about the one teaching. Holding all of these teachings together makes more sense. They all go together to paint a larger picture for us. Sure, you can pull Sower and Seeds out on its own. We do it all of the time. But look at what happens when we keep going. Look at the beauty of following Mark with all of his run ons and "and thens." Pretty cool. Pretty cool.

Go be light my friends. Let us go forth into the world rejoicing in the power of the Spirit!

To Unfriend or Not to Unfriend? That is the Question

Isn't it funny when friends on Facebook are all saying the same thing and none of them know each other? The topic du jour lately is about unfollowing and unfriending people. Certainly that has become the quick fix. If someone is too annoying in your newsfeed you can simply unfollow them. Too persistently commenting on your own page? Unfriend them. Ouch. That'll show them.

I, of course, I am guilty of those things. Although, in my defense the unfriended people were people who I literally don't know anymore and I am confident they didn't notice.

But, there is something that I have stopped doing: I have stopped unfollowing people who annoy me. The only people who are unfollowed are the people who were filling my newfeed too often. Those people who were posting too many times a day for me to be able to see anyone else - those are the ones who are gone from it. Anyone who just makes me angry? They stay. And here's why...

Because they exist.

Simply that. They exist. The people who make me mind-explodingly livid? Those people are real. They are flesh and blood people. Not some general idea. Not just some vague notion of "people like that." 

The dude who always brings up gender when it is totally irrelevant thus says something completely sexist offending me without realizing it at all? Yes, I know him. He isn't just some guy in a movie. The person who posts the most racist videos, but would be horrified to be called racist? Yep, that person is a real person too. The girl who is "just the worst mom ever" and "omg so fat" and all that self-depreciating jazz, well, we all know at least one of those. And, of course, let's not forget the overly pushy political person who just knows for a fact that all of your well formed opinions are dead wrong. All of those people... those are in fact people I KNOW. Some are the people who I grew up with. Some are their parents. Some are people I met in church. All of these people who can make me so angry on Facebook? So angry that I want to unfollow or (*gasp*) unfriend them? These people are in fact... my friends.

I keep people in who anger me and here's why: because it is good to remember that everyone is having a hard time. Facebook is a good insight into the human condition and, let's face it, Facebook is pretty damn angry a lot of the time. And why is Facebook so angry all of the time? Because people feel angry. People are lonely and sad and self conscious. Blocking and unfollowing and unfriending doesn't change that. It just blocks that from my mind. Pretending it doesn't exist doesn't mean it doesn't exist. Not seeing the anger and rudeness on Facebook doesn't mean it isn't there. It just means it's there and my head is in the sand.

So then what? My Facebook is full of hate... then what? Just get on it and be filled with anger and frustration and sadness? Nope. I think about when my kids are totally melting down and making me crazy. Usually it's a cry for attention. 9 times out of 10 when kids are being "bad" it's because they need some calm, some one on one time. They need a good book and a cup of milk and a quiet voice. They need some calm in the chaos. Bad behavior on Facebook is the same thing. They just need some calm, some love, some hope.

Christ instructs us to pray for our enemies. Could all of this hate pouring from our friends not be a time when we need to heed these words? I don't think I have anyone/anything I would call my "enemy" more than hate. Maybe instead of blocking people from our feeds when they make us angry we should say a prayer for them. If they are so angry as to be filling Facebook with hate, then perhaps they need prayers for peace. I try to not be condescending or judgmental though so usually it ends up along the lines of, "uh... God... I don't know what to pray for them about, but... yeahh... (name)... err... Thy will be done..." and then I sit and think a while and end up saying the Lord's Prayer.

Yes, I keep "those people" in my feed. I want to remember what sexism, racism, and anger really look like... because all of that hate and ignorance... it looks just like me. It looks like my friends. And it reminds me to be kinder to the stranger in the grocery store, to the mom at the playground, to the neighbor down the street. Because if all of these people on Facebook, who seem to "have it all" have so much anger and hurt and sadness and hate coming out of them, then truly everyone is in need of some extra kindness and generosity and love.

The Life of the World to Come

I have always been so immersed in a church community I can't imagine life without it.

That's not true. As far as that goes, college was a bust. I was lonely and yearned to know people who weren't my own age. Though I later served as a campus minister, I certainly wasn't involved in the student center while a student. I wanted to know people who were my elders. That's always been one of the greatest things about church for me.

From Mrs. Purden's cookies to the world's warmest smile on Bill Barth's face each Sunday, St. Mark's gave me a home church in which I was raised by generations of Episcopalians, not just my parents. Ironically (because she was the world's most fabulous clergy spouse) I always wanted most to be like Marie Calcote (ironic because I too am now a clergy spouse... though decidedly not the world's most fabulous). I knew people well who weren't kids, who had already "been there" and "done that" and who weren't my flesh and blood family. Church family is a very powerful thing.

Without a church (or synagogue, or mosque) how would someone know people in other age groups? Perhaps they don't. What a loss. I'm not talking about religion right now - I'm talking about relationships. What a true loss to not have friends in other life stages.

Many... most? of the people I hold dearest in my current parish are considerably older than I am. They are the ones who welcomed me into my church home with loving and open arms. They are the ones who offer me the wisdom of having survived. When I show up on a Sunday looking tired and haggard, they smile knowingly and laugh saying things like, "Yep. I remember those days. It will get better." When I have news to share of successes, they never wonder self consciously if I am passive aggressively competing with them (peers, I never am, I don't care). They just celebrate my successes with me. And their stories are fabulous. Stories about raising their own children, most of whom were born before I was. Stories about falling in love and getting married in a whirlwind of weeks. Stories about staying married through the thick and thin. Stories about losing loved ones and pain and moving and new jobs and hardships. There is most definitely a wisdom that comes with age.

A friend (who is not yet an old man) is dying right now and I'm at a loss for words. Well, am I ever truly at a loss for words? There are many things to say about his character (upstanding), his love for his family (endless), his love for God (inspiring)... all of that... but for me, when he was still able to attend church, he was the person who shared with me a similar love of learning. I knew that each Sunday we would stop and talk. Like most people we would inquire as to one another's families and all that jazz, but the heart of our friendship, the real meat of why we "click" is that we have the same passion for learning. We would fly through all of the niceties of conversation and then one of us would excitedly say to the other, "Guess what I learned about?!" or ask one another a question about the other's studied topic and then the conversation would really take off. I've missed seeing him these last few months. I didn't realize how accustomed I'd grown to our... nope... that's not true at all. I have actually cherished that friendship since day one. 

And I have meanwhile heard news of another (much older) friend's medical diagnosis. They too are someone who I make a point to sit by when the seat next to them is empty. I heard of this yesterday and won't blog more about it. Suffice to say, I'll miss this person as well.

Since Chris became a priest he has done an insane amount of funerals. It wasn't until now, in this parish, in this family, that they really started taking their toll on me. "But wait!" I want to cry out "These are my friends! my family!" Our last church was huge. And I worked for another church. I never knew, or really knew, any of the people whose funerals Chris was presiding.

To be honest... I much prefer this. Because the richness of friendship far exceeds the hardship. The beauty of knowing each other, the joy of learning from one another, the love we share with one another in friendship - all of that truly outweighs the heaviness of death.

And with great hope, we look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come. 

Smile, But Don't Nod

I recently had a political/religious conversation with a new friend. She shared her views, and I put on my best clergy spouse smile and tried to fully engage the conversation.

The thing is: we aren't close. We could be someday, but we haven't known each other long enough and this was our first conversation of depth. Unfortunately, (unbeknownst to her when she brought it up I think) it was a topic that we weren't going to see eye to eye on.

I really like this person. I really want to be real friends. I want to have conversations of depth with her. This was not the conversation though in which my well thought out opinions were going to have any impact on her. We just aren't at that level of friendship (yet?). I graciously listened to her. I spoke my mind about things I find to be "interesting," but didn't give a direct response (which she didn't ask for) on my political or religious view on the topic.

I got home and told Chris about the conversation and imagine that this is how her conversation with her husband went:

Her: I talked to Casey about {topic} for a while today.
Him: What did she say?
Her: Not much, now that I think of it...
Him: Then she probably disagrees with you and was being polite.
Her: Do you think so? But she's a Christian. She's the pastor's wife!
Him: What denomination are they?
Her: Uhhh... I don't remember... she calls him a priest though...
Him: Episcopalian?
Her: Yes! That's it!
Him: She's Episcopalian? What kind of car does she drive? Does she shave her legs?
Her: Huh. She has a Prius, and I'll have to check out her legs next time I see her.
Him: Honey, believe me, she definitely doesn't agree and was just being polite.

The day I bought the Prius!

I hope we end up good friends anyway!

The Rich Woman and Lazarus

There was a rich woman who was dressed in Banana Republic and carrying a Thirty-One bag who feasted sumptuously every day. And each day she got into her Prius and left her comfortable home in suburbia and drove past Lazarus.

She passed by Lazarus, a child in the projects receiving a crap education in a poor school district. She pitied Lazarus. But not enough to vote for education reform. Not enough to blame anyone other than the child's parents, who were also raised in the projects. Who were also given a crap education and no chance or money for college. Not enough to blame anyone other than his mother with her high school education working two jobs and statically doomed to make 64 cents to every dollar a white male makes. Yes, she pitied Lazarus. But not enough.

And she passed Lazarus in the prison cell where he, in her opinion, sat rightfully awaiting his death sentence. Without thought to the possibility of human error in the justice system, without thought of mercy, without thought of the right to life, without second guessing whether or not humanity has the God-given right to take a person's life, she had no pity for Lazarus. She didn't think of Christ's direction to visit those in prison. John the Baptist, St. Peter, and St. Paul in prison did not cross her mind. And she passed by Lazarus, thankful that he was locked away, saying, "Good. He got what he deserves."

And on her way home stood Lazarus with a cardboard sign, a cardboard sign of lies perhaps. But, nevertheless, there he was day after day. She felt a pang of guilt as she passed him by and debated whether or not to give him a hand out. But, there-in was her problem. Why should this man get a hand-out? She had to work hard to get where she was in life. No one gave her any hand outs. She saw not her white privilege or access to good education and health care. She thought not of all of the great jobs given to her because she knew someone and had connections. She thought not about the edge that money had always given her - the extra curricular activities her parents were able to put her in, the theater tickets they were able to purchase, the good health care, and the opportunities afforded her due to her relative wealth compared to that of Lazarus. She thought not of these things. In fact, none of them even occurred to her as "hand-outs" or "coddling" or even help. They didn't occur to her at all. Instead, she readjusted her air conditioner, turned up the radio, and compared herself to those with more than she. She thought only of those with more money, more expensive cars, bigger homes, and finer clothes. They were rich. She wondered how Lazarus always managed to find a Sharpie. Working to not meet his eye, she shook off her smidgen of guilt and passed him by.

Later that evening Lazarus set plates of steaming hot food before the woman's family. She never met her waiter's eyes, choosing instead to simply bark orders, never thanking him or acknowledging his existence, his humanity. No tip was left because of his "poor service" and she left the restaurant shaking her head and chatting with her husband about the fact that "no one knows how to work hard any more these days." She then went for a manicure where Lazarus carefully polished her toenails. She once again never looked into his face, choosing instead to talk on the phone, complaining to a friend about border control, "them", and finally, the sheer volume of toys she had to purchase for her children for Christmas this year.

Lazarus, covered with sores, longed to satisfy his hunger with even what fell from the rich woman’s table. At night the stray dogs would come and lick his sores. The poor man died and after an unnoticed government cremation was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham.

The rich woman also died and was buried with no expense spared. The city mourned the loss of such an advocate for the poor and neglected. The rich woman's fundraising galas would not be missed for long, a new rich woman would soon step in to take over throwing expensive parties to raise funds for the disenfranchised.

In Hades, where she was being tormented, the rich woman looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side. Still seeing Lazarus as one beneath her, she called out, “Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.”

But Abraham said, “Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony. Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.”

She said, “Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father’s house— for I have five brothers—that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.” Abraham replied, “They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.” She said, “No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.” He said to her, “If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.” 


That's how I read this story in Luke. And I can envision endless versions of Lazarus... which is why the story of the rich man and Lazarus scares the shit out of me. 

Clergy Spouse Confessions

One of the things that can sometimes be most difficult for me about being a clergy spouse is being around all of our priest friends in one gathered space. Not for a party or social occasion (in fact I love that), but for a holy event - for church celebrations. No, it's not their matching dog collared ensembles or inherent love of port wine. It's much harder to explain than that.

We spent the morning at the deacons' ordinations, and I had a blast. It was holy and lovely to spend time celebrating the ordinands and visiting with friends. We enjoyed a beautiful reception and then went on to a party with great friends. It was a truly great day.

And then we got home and I sunk into such a foul mood that when Chris announced he was going to mow the lawn I screeched, "Oh no you aren't! I am." Because there was no way I was going to let the opportunity to slosh around in the mucky yard pushing a heavy piece of machinery while only its loud buzzing filled my brain pass me by. I needed that blissful alone time to think. And growl. And feel annoyed. Luckily, the Psalmist shows us that this can be prayer too.

So what is it that's so hard about having so many clergy friends?
They are just so darn sure of their role in the Church. They know their place in life and they live it.

And it leaves me asking, "But what about me?"

The clergy have a place and they know what it is. They may have run to it with open arms crying "Here am I Lord! Send me!" They may have hidden or begged off or pleaded "please send someone else." But they know what it is. They get up in the morning and put on those dog collars and head out the door. They felt what they refer to as "the call" and they answered it. Meanwhile the rest of us slug around through life wondering where our places are and how we fit into the life of the Church.

Or maybe not. Maybe you know your place. 

Personally, I have some ideas about my place in the Church. Unfortunately, my first choice is an unpaid position and thus not one I will seek to fill. I've already committed to raising two children, and I intend on sending them to college without huge debts accrued. Thus, I will eventually have to find an income once kiddos are in school. In the meantime I'll guess I'll just have to keep floundering and wondering and crying out "where do I fit in?!"

Don't get me wrong: surrounded by our clergy family friends is truly one of my favorite places to be in the entire world. In many ways, they are my people. Clergy family to clergy family: they "get" us. But man, it can sometimes be rough to be seeking one's own place in the Church and surrounded by people so sure of their own.

Luckily, there is always prayer.
And long grass and a muddy lawn and a big loud heavy lawn mower to push around.

Clergy Spouse Confessions

Chris was first ordained in June 2009 (in the Episcopal church you are ordained first to the transitional deaconate and then later to the priesthood). So, six years ago this month! And during this time I have made a few observations from my spousal point of view...

Confession: clergy spouses crave community.
Confession: clergy spouses (at least I have found) seek community with one another.
Confession: clergy spouses fall into two camps. There are the whiners. And everyone else.

Well, that about sums up life as a clergy spouse. Now, bring me a slice of leftover wedding cake and some rum and let's call it a day.

What? You expect some sort of explanation of that? *sigh* Well, alright. I'll do my best.

Confession: clergy spouses crave community.
Well, don't we all? I believe that we (humanity) were created for community. God himself is a triune being who exists as community. Clergy spouses, I have found, often have a spoken desire for community. I don't think it is necessarily a different or deeper desire than that of anyone else, but, in my experience, it is articulated and intentionally sought after. Why this might be the case is open to more speculation and I have plenty of thoughts. Too many in fact to go into here. If you want to talk about it come over and we'll drink coffee or rum according to the time of day.

Chris' ordination to the deaconate June 2009

Confession: clergy spouses (at least I have found) seek community with one another.
This too, is open to speculation and I can only speak to my experience. However, thus far, in my six year tenure as a clergy spouse I have found that other spouses (of any denomination) perk up immediately when they hear about this particular role in my life. I think it has to do with understanding. Everyone wants to feel understood, right? Back to that whole craving community thing. Perhaps clergy spouses crave one another because we "get" each other in a way that others don't fully understand.

I recently became friends with a pastor's wife of a different denomination in town. She told me that I am the only pastor's spouse she knows and said this with an expression of deep relief on her face. I can't imagine what her life has been like until now. Her husband works for what most would call a mega-church. How has she not had anyone to call on days when her entire Sunday morning fell apart due to kids with fevers? Or kids getting too crazy in the pew? How alone has she felt on Sundays when friends have introduced her to new people as "the first lady" (ugh, never do that. We haaaatteeee that)? Who listens compassionately and then tells her to suck it up when her husband leaves tuck-ins to her because he has to head to the hospital? Who helps her laugh through the busy seasons and knows to leave packages of coffee and cookies on her doorstep when she's home alone during all of September, Advent, and Holy Week? Wait... why don't my friends know that?

Yeah, clergy spouses crave community as much as everyone else does. We find it in a variety of places. I am lucky enough to have a truly fabulous community in our church home. I am also lucky enough to have a great support network of spouses to call when (*ahem*) too many people ask me questions that require me to answer laughingly "I don't work here!"

People, seriously! I love you. I really do, but stop asking me these things. I never know! I don't work there!

Chris' ordination to the deaconate June 2009

Confession: clergy spouses fall into two camps. There are whiners. And everyone else.
Isn't this true of everything? I try to fall into the latter camp. One of my favorite friends in the spouse world has been a clergy spouse for 40 years or so. She and her husband married in their twenties and he is now near retirement. Their children are grown and have children of their own. Her attitude is this, "I choose to be happy." Now, isn't that a great outlook on life? Fabulous. She once spoke (spontaneously) at a spouse retreat (yes, we do that) about how her husband can be a bit of a work-a-holic. Truth be told, my husband is not a work-a-holic (thanks Chris, good job!) but all clergy family can sometimes feel like the church is an extra spouse. Anyway, she said that her husband works so much. Her words? "What am I gonna do? I can't change him. Lord knows I've tried! I'm not gonna divorce him. I love him. So, a long time ago I chose to be happy. So that's what I do. I choose to be happy."

Wow, typed out that sounds crazy and unhealthy. But I know her. And it isn't. It's awesome. She decided to accept the things she can't change for what they are and make changes in her own life accordingly. Instead of pouting that her husband was at work (which is sometimes super awkward, "What do you mean you're going to go bless someone dying?! I thought we were going to watch The Blacklist together!") she took on a life of her own. She made a life for herself and enjoys their life together. Certainly something for all spouses (of any occupations) to aspire.

I hear more coffee percolating so there is nothing in the world that is going to keep my hiney glued in this chair any longer.

Go in peace to love and serve the Lord!

How to Win Friends and Influence People

Sitting in the back of my parent's minivan (or was it the Astro by then?) on the way to my first week at Camp Allen's overnight camp I clearly remember my dad's very solid advice: "Just tell the girls in your cabin this story and everyone will want to be your friend!" The story was a captivating, especially to a third grader, and involved little Jimmy in boy scout camp, a bunch of shaving cream, and a shower stall. I showed up at camp with my ginormous duffel, my bedside fan, and my ace in the hole story. I settled in for the night and began my tale.

I had a great week that first year at camp. How could I not? It was camp! I had candy and did arts and crafts every single day! I swam and swam and swam. Messy games, fun songs, more swimming (there wasn't actually that much to do in those days besides swim), it was a great week. The last night one of my bunk mates sat in my bed chatting. "You know," she remarked in that third grader candid kind of way, "you're pretty cool. It's too bad Regina George told all of us to not be your friend at the beginning of the week."

Luckily for me, I'd been too busy having fun to realize that I hadn't made any friends.

I've been going to boot camp on Friday mornings for about six months now. It's the same faces each week. And those are the faces that I tend to see on Mondays and Wednesdays as well. Most people go with a friend, but I fly solo as my workout buddy hates bootcamp (and is now preggo and traveling across the entire country for the next few months).

Last week we went outside to run and a group of girls commented on the skunk smell. "Oh, man!" I said, "When I was pregnant..." and proceeded to tell a fabulous story about being pregnant with my second child, a skunk smell caught in our car air conditioner, and throwing up on my feet.

Nailed it.

My Open Letter to the Church

If there is one thing Millennials hate it's being told what to do. I know. I myself am somewhere in the upper range of Millennials (1983 - hollah!). And I loathe being told what to do. Ask anyone. Ask my mother. Ask my husband. Ask my old boss who used to frequently lay tasks on my desk only to be met with a screeching, "No! You do it!" He had to get a job in the bishop's office to hide from me and my wrath. Thus far my demands that the Rev Canon Newt now rehire me as his right-hand gal have been unfruitful. Of course, I've applied for my job to be to sit next to him while we wear matching sweater vests and I smoke a pipe looking thoughtful. Perhaps he just doesn't realize yet how necessary this position is.

All this is to say: Don't tell me what to do. I do what I want.

So why is the Church bending over backward to get us Millennials in the door? Eeew. Gross. Hello every denomination in America, have you ever heard of playing hard to get? Okay, I'm kidding... a little... but not entirely. Hear me out...

From my viewpoint it seems like getting my generation into the doors is all the American Church wants to talk about lately. "Wah, wah, Millennials aren't going to church. *cry*"
Church! Pull yourself together! So someone doesn't like you! It happens! You are acting like the teenage girl whose boyfriend breaks up with her and she won't stop calling him. Oh honey, that isn't how you win him back. For heaven's sake child, hang up the damn phone. Put a cool washcloth on your eyes so they don't look puffy in the morning. Slather on some makeup and don your most fabulous outfit. Then go to school and be the most beautiful, charming, and interesting person there. That'll have him regretting his decision to ask Tammy to prom instead of you.

Church... do you see what I'm getting at here? You are spending so much time chasing after the Millennials, and trust me, you look desperate. Who wants to hang out with the desperate girl who wont stop calling? No one. That's who. I said something along these lines to a friend recently and her face showed her instant disapproval: she was appalled. She kindly said, "but what about the Great Commission?" Yep. What about it? Have the Millennials not heard of Christ? Is the Church meeting in a secret undisclosed location that only they are not allowed to know about? The Millennials are uninterested because the Church is uninteresting to them.

Yep, I said it. And I'll say it again: the Millennials are uninterested because the Church is uninteresting to them. Do I need to say it in all caps?

Here's the thing Church with a capital letter C: you don't have to chase after this generation of young people. They know you exist. They just aren't that into you. And that's okay. Because someday they will be interested, and you'll still be here. Right here waiting with open arms for the prodigal son generation to return.

So, what to do about this "uninteresting" thing, eh? We can't just leave that big awkward elephant standing here in the room can we? Here's the deal... young people are bored by headlines like "Millennials Leaving the Fold" which is what I saw when I clicked on cnn.com this morning. Strangely enough, Millennials aren't that interested in hearing about Millennials. We feel suffocated by that. We don't like being bossed around so when we hear that the Church is frantic to get us... well... you see how that's going. What are we interested in? Authenticity. People and groups who don't try so hard to impress us. Millennials' current viewpoint of the Church is that it's a place that is trying desperately to get their attention. The way to get Millennials in the door is in fact, to stop trying so hard to get them in the door. And for Christ's sake (literally), stop talking about trying so hard to get them in the door. Church, do you get what I'm saying here?

So the Millenials didn't ask you to prom. It happens. I'm not going to be the friend who hands you a Twinkie and a Dr. Pepper and tells you "you're better off without him." You aren't. And the Millenials aren't better off either. We need each other. We're better together.

So, now what should you do about it? Put a washcloth on your eyes and stop calling them. Let them come to you. They know where you are. Stop stressing out over where they are. Just be you. Be the Church. The Church doesn't have to be pushy and clingy and desperate for this generation to like it. Ironically, here's the trick to getting Millenials to like you: don't worry so much about whether or not they like you. They know you exist. Yes, part of our identity as the Church is to evangelize. We have Good News and we need to share it. The thing is though, that sharing it with Millennials doesn't mean calling them in tears every fifteen minutes wondering if they want to reconsider the break up yet. Sharing the Good News with Millennials requires actions speaking loudly. It requires invitations that aren't desperate sounding. Invitations that are genuine and sincere. Millennials aren't interested in the Church the media portrays - you know that Church - the one hyperconcerned with empty pews. Millennials aren't interested in a Church that talks about evangelizing to Millennials. They are interested in a Church that is busy evangelizing. Now, go do your thing. Evangelize. Feed the hungry. Visit the sick and lonely and imprisoned. Welcome the sinner. Heal the broken. Church, you are beautiful.That is what makes you interesting. You are interesting in your depth. In your mystery. In your strength and peace and confidence. You are beautiful in your Truth. You are beautiful in your hands and feet and the work that they do in the world. These are the things that make you interesting. Focus on those things and the Millennials won't be able to help but start knocking down your doors.

My Open Love Letter to Beth Bojarski

One day recently (so, like, in the last year or so) Kelly asked me to name people who have been largely influential in making me who I am today (obvious choices not included). Now, if you know Kelly at all then you know that this question was not one that merited a casual response. Kelly wasn't looking for an off the top of my head reply. She wanted an in-depth analysis of the most influential people in my life. Who were these people? How did I meet them? What impact did they have upon me? Give specific examples as to how am I living out that influence today. I don't remember if I passed the oral portion of the examination, but I've decided to submit the written part here.

Her question was intriguing. One I've thought about since that day. I thought about sending a letter to my most influential person, but I like the public nature of blogging. Plus, the drug my neurologist has me on makes my fingers go numb (an expected side effect) and thus lengthy letter writing will not be in my portfolio in the near future. It also makes for some interesting Bodypump classes - try doing a million clean and presses with numb hands. It's weird.

So... without further ado... surprise Beth! You are the first person that popped in my mind when Kelly asked me that question. Why? Because you are perhaps the person who I have most purposely looked up to and tried to learn from in my adult life. Surprised? Perhaps. Let me get everyone on the same page...

Beth was one of the first people I met when Chris and I moved to Virginia in 2006. The very first person in fact. She was our next door neighbor and was outside wearing a superman t-shirt and ready to help unpack our u-haul when we pulled up. She met us with a smile and a welcome basket from the seminary and a promise to always have an open door should I need to borrow an egg. Although... now that I type this out that was right around the time she went vegan... so... hmmm... Beth and a bunch of dudes unloaded our trailer for us and then sat down with a cooler of crappy beer and welcomed us to the neighborhood.

Getting a picture of how cool she is already?

Unfortunately for me, I met Beth before I had my "aha moment" in 2009 when I realized I was the "common denominator" in never making friends. *cough* More on that later if any one is interested. Or not. I'll summarize it for you: I had a moment of clarity when I realized I never made friends because I never tried to be anyone's friend. Tricky.

Fortunately for me, Beth is pretty damn cool and kept reaching out to me anyway despite my tendency to stay firmly put in my hobbit hole. So, here is how Beth influenced who I am today:

The first way that Beth impacted who I am today was a very specific occasion. Beth had a weekly gathering at her apartment (see, she knew how to make friends! sheesh) and at one such gathering the conversation turned catty. Beth was not one to normally partake in making fun of other people behind their backs (another thing I tried to pick up from her), but that particular night she said something rude. Who cares what she said? Who even remembered? It was just one comment among many that were said by a bunch of girls. The next day I found an email in my inbox from Beth sent to everyone who had attended. In it she acknowledged that she'd said something she regretted and wished that she could take it back. She apologized to everyone for hosting a party that ended up turning sour. I was 24 at the time so a bunch of girls sitting around and making fun of someone behind their back didn't seem to me like a party turning sour. That's just what a party was, right? {*see note above about how I did not yet know how to make friends at this time*} Beth's email in terms of my needing an apology didn't matter. But it changed my life! It was the first time that someone had reached out in reconciliation in that particular way. I knew that none of us needed Beth to apologize for her comment, she had needed to apologize. A year or so later I was at a party and made the same mistake. Sorry to burst your bubble people but seminary is a fish bowl. Seminarians say mean things when in a fish bowl. I found myself back home after the party and regretting the thing I'd said and the way I'd potentially made other people feel uncomfortable with my having said it (I'd made fun of a classmate). So, I took a page from Beth's book and sent everyone an email. And it was freeing. From then on I've done my best to always reach out in reconciliation when something is eating at me and that has been life changing.

Which leads us to my second point: Beth is one of the most genuine and openly honest people I've ever met. Perhaps the most genuine and openly honest person I've ever met. She is caring and compassionate and willing to share those feelings. But more than that she is willing to share the whole gamut of feelings. She doesn't hold back, but she does so in a way that is holy, in a way that invites others in and allows them to be a part of something holy. She showed me how to speak my mind no matter what the emotion. Being in school and a small group with Beth I saw her interact with a variety of people in a variety of situations and was amazed by her ability to voice her opinions in a way that didn't diminish the opinions of others. She stood firm in what she felt and believed, but didn't try to stomp on someone else's feet in giving voice to her thoughts. I saw her speak openly to friends when she was concerned for their well-being even if it was going to be an uncomfortable conversation. I saw her share her fears, her triumphs, her mundanes of life - and it was all beautiful - and I realized, that sharing one's life, one's whole life with people is in fact truly beautiful. Beth's ability to be so open and honest gave me the desire to live my life in the same way and it is something that since meeting her I have actively pursued. What I've found is that it's freeing and has opened new opportunities in my life for friendship and love. I have found that more often than not that sharing with people results in "me toos!" and closeness and community and friendship. Sure sometimes it's uncomfortable, vulnerability is... well... vullneerrabblee... but it's so worth it. Beth gets credit for teaching me that sharing one's full gamut of emotions allows others to share theirs and opens up new paths for friendship and depth and holiness.

On a lighter note, Beth taught me how to layer! Ha! Literally. With the first cold snap we had in Virginia Beth found me wearing a t-shirt and a coat. I remember very clearly her saying to me, "Can I ask you a question? Have you ever heard of layering?" And I've survived cold weather ever since. Turns out you can be in the snow and not be cold. Huh, who knew?! Perhaps every Texan needs a friend from upstate New York.

So, Kelly, there you have it. Beth Bojarski wins as the non-relative non-teacher non-obvious-choice for most influential person in my life. Hands down. No contest. No one else even comes close. Unfortunately for Beth the winner of this contest receives a none-expense paid trip to Tejas where they can revel in right-wing hysteria, eat large quantities of beef, and throw away unused paper products just to remind the trees who the boss is around here. I jest, of course... I jest... I'm kidding... a joke... right? *sigh* 

That We All May Be One

The depth and layers of racism in America are not something that I can delve into fully, however, I do want say this: I think that change has to take place in the Church first and foremost. That's Church with a capital C - the universal Church, all denominations. Sure, we can (and should) make adjustments to laws in our country that are biased. We should do a lot of things in government to promote justice for all. But, in my humble opinion, the segregation we maintain in the Church is  embarrassingly out of date. If Christians want to see a difference in the way people relate with one another, we need to be that change.

Sunday morning is said to be the most segregated hour in America. This isn't true of course, look around your neighborhood. Look around your grocery store. Look around your children's school. I'm guessing that for the most part, whatever your skin color is - that's what is around you too. Let's face it America, when it comes to black and white, we're still segregated. And most of us are sickened by that fact.

I find that to be suffocating. I feel like there are so many of us who are not racist. Who watch the news and hear the things people say (even the casual off-hand things those people we grew up with say in front of us - ugh!) and it's sickening. Yet, I don't know what I can do. What can we do? Sure, I can be nice to everyone I encounter regardless of their skin, regardless of mine. But then what? Lots of people do that. Racism is still a huge problem in America.

I believe that change has to start in the Church. All of us, all of us Christians need to look around us on Sunday mornings and decide that segregating ourselves is no longer okay. Sure, we all grew up with different worship styles, music preferences, liturgies. Yep, I get that. So, for now, I'm not proposing that everyone ditch their Sunday mornings. But what would it look like if we started gathering together as the Church in common prayer? In common mission? In outreach and fellowship? How awesome would it be if black churches and white churches partnered together to get to know one another as friends. As brothers and sisters. I'm talking one to one here. One black church + one white church. Any denomination. Then the two would meet up however often they want for outreach and fellowship. Working alongside one another they could transform a community with their service. In prayer they would grow together in faith. In sharing a meal together people would grow to know one another as the brothers and sisters in Christ that we all are. Simple: just one to one. In this way the Church would be transformed and transform the world.

Yes, I think racial change has to begin in the Church. Christ's prayer for his Church is plain and straightforward: "that they all may be one." If the Church can't desegregate, what hope is there for racial harmony in anything else?

Let us go forth in peace to love and serve the Lord.