tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-278838132024-03-14T05:37:31.461-05:00Too bad it's raining.margmorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00900879863702928274noreply@blogger.comBlogger766125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27883813.post-59177485859606117252016-07-13T10:37:00.002-05:002016-07-13T10:37:37.650-05:00Deacon ThresholdsToday I interviewed a Deacon candidate. It was cursory, he probably won't be assigned here, but it was a great opportunity for both of us. He needs to interview in more than one parish, and I took the chance to try a "threshold conversation" with him. Well, not exactly a <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Forming-Intentional-Disciples-Knowing-Following/dp/1612785905" target="_blank">by-the-book</a> TC, but a conversation that really asked the person about their relationship with God.<br />
He was lovely, and would be a good Deacon to work with, I'm sure. We had a really nice conversation. He started by mentioning his qualifications, his connection to our community, etc. I started then by asking him "tell me your story- what brings you here?" He talked about his formation as a Deacon, his home parish, the process he's taking on now. I asked him "Okay, but what about your faith story- what brings you here... to this point in your life and faith?" He said "ohhhhhh.... welll...." and talked about his prayer life. How he likes to pray, what devotions he likes, etc.<br />
<br />I said "forgive me for pressing... but... you're describing your prayer life. What about your relationship with God? How would you describe it?" His eyebrows furrowed.<br />
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He said that his relationship with God is friendly... comfortable. He prays a lot. He mentioned his ethnic background and said that people of that background are in awe of God's holiness, and feel like they walk with God, when they pray the Stations, for instance.<br />
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I asked, "can you tell me a story of a time when you felt that way, when you were walking with God?" and he told me a very nice story of when he helped a friend by leading the prayers at his family member's burial.<br />
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This was a fairly safe opportunity for me to initiate this kind of conversation- this is a man who's been through 5 years of formation, including 100 hours of hospital chaplaincy training and ministry. This should be a person who, being "churched", shouldn't be put off by questions of personal relationship with God. And... he wasn't put off... but he couldn't really share a faith story. He didn't seem to grasp what I was asking. I could have pressed him further, but I gave in and asked him the usual deacon interview questions, about the takeaways from his formation, about how he sees himself serving.<br />
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It was all very nice, but what it wasn't was... passionate.<br />
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<br />margmorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00900879863702928274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27883813.post-4440508102630071292015-02-27T10:34:00.001-05:002015-02-27T10:34:09.453-05:00Change is HARDMy sister had a blog for a while a few years back, and the last entry she wrote was titled "Change is HARD." I finally had to stop checking for new posts because every time I dialed it up I was reminded of that fact. And Oh, do I get it that it's hard to write when you're going through Stuff. I can't bear to look and see when my last post was here...<br />
Not everything in the last year has been bad, but it has all been change. Scott and I had a great conversation the other night where we talked about our different views of gratefulness, and while Scott is working on being more grateful for Lent, I confessed that I'm <i>so</i> grateful for my life as to be afraid to lose it all. I am so thankful for what I have that it's hard for me to make changes that will move me out of This Moment, for which I am so thankful. It's a weird paradox, and this is the curse of being me.<br />
Just in this last year I've left a job I loved, have watched my parents grow even older and worked to be a good part of the care team for them that is my siblings. I have fallen in love with my new parish community, even as they struggle so hard to grow while simultaneouly struggling so hard not to.<br />
And there have been deaths. My former pastor, boss, and friend died last month after a shockingly quick illness at a too-young age. A week later the man who was my first boss/pastor in my first ministry job died too.<br />
The last few weeks at work we've been cleaning out a huge rectory to sell, and even though the memories there weren't mine, it is always such an emotional process to empty a house. And overwhelmingly hard work. So many rooms, so many steps, so many nooks and crannies! So many little things. Everyone making adjustments everywhere.<br />
Scott and his staff are making adjustments too, with a new Administrator and new ways and fresh memories and painful grief.<br />
OH and the SNOW! It's been near-constant, and super cold, so once it falls it stays. It makes for a very gloomy time, all things totalled.<br />
But.<br />
In the mornings when I take Callie out to walk, I hear birds. The ice, which is everywhere, pops when we step on it because it's been melting underneath just a bit during the days. And the light- where I used to watch the sunrise while Callie did her stuff, now the sun is UP. And it's still bright-ish for our evening walk. Somehow I can feel it- spring is coming. I love that Lent and Spring are coincidental. Winter can be its most strong and miserable and powerful, but it cannot hold back spring. And death, death can do what it does but it cannot hold back life, cannot win over resurrection.<br />
Change is HARD. But Easter is coming.<br />
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<br />margmorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00900879863702928274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27883813.post-6451618892019871522014-11-17T18:02:00.001-05:002014-11-17T18:02:33.114-05:00Bring It OnLast week I was invited to a meeting at the Senior Center in the town where i work, along with other leaders from area churches. The director gave us an overview of the services they provide (an amazing amount, really, for cheap or free, for anyone in the city who is disabled or over 60 years old). She showed us the calendar, the list of activities, the services they provide, and explained their hopes for the future. Then, to my astonishment, she said "so the reason I've asked you all here is that I want to know how we can serve you in your churches." <div>Shocking, right? I expected her to ask us for help- funding, publicity, connections, space to host programs. But she said that they want to reach every person they can in the city. I raised my hand and said "I know this is ridiculous, but since you asked... it would be wonderful if you could set up a servive that offered rides to Mass on weekends!" I expected her to say "yeah, RIGHT." But she said "okay, good to know! I'm going to see how I can make that happen." </div><div>I've been in social service and ministry work for over 25 years now, and the pervasive attitude of the people I've worked with, including me at times, has been "I am at my limit. Don't ask me to do anything more than I'm struggling to do now." At church, we bluff all the time about how we wish more people would come to our programs, but we don't go out looking for them, we don't do the work to attract them, we don't plan space for more than we usually have. </div><div>And, you know, I get that because I've been there- I am there- maxed out, under-funded, time-challenged, distracted by all kinds of stupid things that pop up here and there. It's enough to make you (me) forget the point- which is, after all, to Go and Make Disciples. This secular servant of people reminded me that I need to re-order my priorities and remember that I am doing God's work, which is hard and overwhelming. And I need to trust that along with the extra people God will send my way if I am open to them, will come their gifts and agency to extend my efforts further than I ever could alone. </div>margmorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00900879863702928274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27883813.post-44292095997087513332014-08-27T22:19:00.000-05:002014-08-27T22:19:33.298-05:00How it works, sometimesSo here is how God works in my life...<br />
I'm at the Amazing Parish Conference, in Denver CO. It's really... amazing. Great information at a breakneck pace (plus minor jetlag)- really wonderful speakers, courageous ideas, inspiring stories, and space to discuss and work things out together. I'm here representing my Catholic Community, and blessedly, Scott is here representing his parish. There is a group from another Boston parish and then a handful of Archdiocesan folks. Tonight, after the longest, fullest day, we sat down to dinner with the AD people and had a really nice conversation. Somewhere in there, I found that one of them had made (lived?) a SEARCH retreat in high school, just like I had, and we agreed that it had been a life-changer for both of us.<br />
Search changed my life and made me a minister. It was at Search that I heard my calling. It was at Search that I realized for the first time that God even had a calling for me- that such a thing could even be possible. It changed everything.<br />
After dinner, I approached this fellow Search-er and asked, do you know what number your Search was? He said that in Providence, where he'd lived it, they didn't really do the number thing. I told him mine was Search 92, and the date was 3-16-86... a date that I think I will always remember (they gave us a little wooden cross with the date carved in, and I can't tell you how many times I traced those numbers with my fingertip... I remember that it was carved in straight lines, and that if I touched each vertical line of that date, it was 13 beats- in my head I'd sing along: "know-ing-that-I-love-and-serve-you-is-e-nough-re-ward").<br />
Next we heard from a speaker who lead us in a little Lectio Divina about John 1:39, where the Gospel writer mentions the time of day that something happened. Long story short, the speaker said that the writer mentioned the time of day because for this writer, this was the moment- the moment that the Gospel writer really encountered Christ. It was the moment his life had changed because he had met Jesus.<br />
He asked, "when was your 4:00?"<br />
And I, tired and overwhelmed, started to cry- because, I know when my 4:00 was- it's a number and date that mean nothing to anyone but me (and maybe the people who lived Search that weekend with me). 3/16/1986, Search 92. Like the Gospel writer, I've had other encounters with Jesus, some even more mind-blowing and heart-wrenching. But it was there, in Alfred Maine in March, surrounded by melting snow and strangers who had become family, that was the Big One, the one that changed everything.<br />
As if this wasn't enough affirmation for my soul, music followed the speaker- Matt Maher, a big deal Catholic musician. He has lots of Catholic hits, and is really really good. But woah- in between his songs, he launched into one that felt like a telegram from God to me. It was "Here I Am, Lord." This song- no one sings this song anymore, especially not hip young Catholic musicians. But this song- this song was sung at the closing Mass of my Search weekend. And in that song, in that Mass, on March 16th, I prayed that song with all my heart- sobbing like tonight- and it was in that song that I heard my calling, and in praying that song, that I said "Yes."<br />
I speak to ministers about being called- I tell them that when we say yes to a calling, we are really saying yes to answering the Red Phone from Heaven over and over and over through our lifetimes (the ministry I'm doing now is not the ministry I thought I was saying "yes" to in 1986). But what I also know about saying "yes" to God is that it also gets us a lifetime of saying to God "is this it? Is this what you want me to be doing? Am I doing your will?" And sometimes, the answer comes through, clear as a bell. At least, that's how God works in my life. <br />
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<br />margmorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00900879863702928274noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27883813.post-26489375930573340302014-04-29T13:57:00.003-05:002014-04-29T13:57:37.778-05:00You're Doing It Wrong.I don't' know if I ever feel more Catholic than I do a mid-day Mass. Outside of consistently still flubbing the "Holy Holy Holy, Lord God of Hosts" (it just doesn't roll off the tongue like the older version did), I know all the moves, and could do them with my hands tied behind my back (except, I am thinking, the sign of the cross. I could still do the sign of peace because at daily Mass we don't shake hands. We wave. Even if the person is right next to you! I think it's an old-people thing). I went to this Mass once after having been up half the night at a Hospice vigil and was feeling exhausted- bleary-eyed and snoozy and a little drunk-like. But still, I knew all the moves, and kneeled and sat and prayed almost automatically. I remember finding that comforting- knowing all the moves and what to do and how to say it so reflexively made me feel like a part of the whole. <br />
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Today, on the other hand, a man walked in just at the beginning of the Homily. I heard my Catholic spine whisper "<em>doesn't count if you're not here for the Gospel</em>!" He is a regular at this Mass, I've seen him before. I watched him take a seat and pull out his rosary beads. The chain was broken on them, so they hung in a long line instead of the usual loop. He sat through the rest of the Mass fiddling fretfully with his broken beads, and whispering. I leaned in a bit to hear what he was saying/praying and heard: "Maryyyy- full of grace the Lord is with thee blessed art thou among women and blessed is Maryyyy.... full of grace, the Lord is with thee..." over and over. He whispered these wrong prayers, wrongly, on his wrong rosary, through the homily and liturgy of the Eucharist. When we stood up to pray the Our Father, he stood up too, and whispered his wrong prayer. At one point, he crunched on a mint- I wondered at first if he was eating one of the beads from his rosary- either way, it's wrong; we're supposed to fast for an hour before Communion. When communion time came, he filed up to the front, received, and then went to stand by the door. When the priest was finished serving communion, the man walked out. <br />
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He did the whole thing wrong. <br />
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But my heart, my heart was breaking for this man- not pity, not even worry- just<em> love love love</em>. I imagined that Mary, hearing her prayer said wrongly, over and over, must feel so moved by his whispers. I don't know his story, where he comes from or where he goes when he leaves our little chapel, but I know he keeps coming back, keeps whispering Mary's name, keeps receiving Christ. I pray someday that in my standing and kneeling and sitting and waving at my neighbors and praying along with the crowd, I can do it as rightly as this man does. <br />
margmorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00900879863702928274noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27883813.post-205640409214008822014-04-19T09:20:00.001-05:002014-04-19T09:20:02.608-05:00PupdateHello all! Here's on update on our girl Callie. The update is: there's no update! We sprung for a VERY expensive blood test to rule out (or in), if I've got this right, hyperparathyroidism and cancer. The blood test takes 7-10 days to return (it's been 8 as of today)- and so far, no calls.<div>If it is cancer (which, if I've got this right, hyperparathyroidism is?) they'll want to do a bunch of ultrasounds and/or x-rays to look for tumors, but if we can be assured that we can keep her comfortable, we probably will not go any further in exploring. She turned ten on the day of her blood test, and I am reading (I know I said no more googling, but what can I say?) that she won't necessarily have symptoms to speak of until she's really getting ready to go. If I've got this right, she will basically experience what an old dog experiences- getting old and dying of natural causes. I think that's a better scenario than lots of time spent at the vet's office trying to find/treat something at her age. <div>So that's all the news that isn't, yet. I'll keep you posted. Thanks for asking, and for your good thoughts and wishes for Callie-loo! We're spoiling her in the meantime- a friend saw her last night and said "Callie's looking... healthy...." and he meant FAT. But she's loving life, still being the nearly-perfect pup that she is, and taking every chance she gets to roll in the snow/grass with delight. Lookit that face!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ9utYNW0SRTIsiqWL458eutx37KvNxk_74Mt__7vOfyoaCszvzWhfZLr93hVfzWnaqiusoOiEDBONi0wvLF5r6WWTtn5XL6qDvIInlO6gw_IcR9CzSWufkvmbwfvDzQC_P9-CIA/s640/blogger-image--1567242645.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ9utYNW0SRTIsiqWL458eutx37KvNxk_74Mt__7vOfyoaCszvzWhfZLr93hVfzWnaqiusoOiEDBONi0wvLF5r6WWTtn5XL6qDvIInlO6gw_IcR9CzSWufkvmbwfvDzQC_P9-CIA/s640/blogger-image--1567242645.jpg"></a></div></div></div>margmorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00900879863702928274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27883813.post-26844429293956061012014-04-06T17:52:00.001-05:002014-04-06T17:52:39.817-05:00Dog Is LoveLast week we took our dog, Callie, to the vet because she had developed a sudden limp- for a day or so she would barely put her hind leg down at all, and although she seemed like her sunny old self, after a (short) while we thought we should have her seen by the doc. While she was there, they did a blood test to be sure she could handle the anti-inflammatory meds they'd prescribed her, and by that blood test, the doctors found that her calcium levels were "slightly elevated." We were asked to collect a first-thing-in-the-morning urine sample to see what that could tell us. (Which we did, through impressive teamwork. It must have been quite a scene for the neighbors, and I brought in MUCH more urine than was asked for or needed, but hey- success!)<div>Google has told us that elevated calcium levels in dogs is not a good thing. We still haven't received the results of the urine test but I did spy a note "decision plan at next appointment" on her chart when I was dropping it off, and I've been carrying around a load of (hopefully exaggerated) dread since then. We have an appointment for her this Friday, and in the meantime, we're trying not to google any more and sorting through the possible endings to this story in our imaginations. </div><div>Last night in the car, Scott said "you know you always say that we can trust God, that God has a plan for us" and I thought to myself "Do I say that? It doesn't seem like something I would say..." </div><div>Of course, I do believe we can trust God, and I do, but that <i>plan</i> thing. I'm not really comfortable with that. Maybe it's just my wonky sense of justice but, if God's plan is to bring a big lovey fuzzy beautiful dog into my life only to give her cancer or kidney failure only 8 months later, then... count me out! To me, that sounds like God's plan for me is to suffer. Not to mention His plan for Callie... I get that good things come out of bad situations, I do. But it would be hard for me to worship a God whose plan for anyone involves pain to make a point or teach a lesson. I've been in countless situations with Catholics who say "I know God had a reason for my sister to die from painful cancer at 25..." or some version of that, and it does make me cringe. What kind of a jerk God does that? </div><div>But I do believe that God is love. And I love that dog, and I love the love that she's brought into our lives, and it's love that impels me to make sure she is okay, as okay as she can be, and it's love that reminds me of her first owner, who died of cancer and had to say goodbye to that fluffy face. I'm thankful for the love that has come to us through her presence in our lives and willing to suffer for that love, I guess, if that's what's gotta happen, and I'm willing to hope for the best, even when Google tells me not to. </div><div>For some reason, Love makes so much more sense to me than Plan, even though it's an infinitely less definable word. Meanwhile, if you're the kind of person who prays for dogs, keep Callie in yours please! And if you're not, pray for Scott and me! I'll keep you posted. <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL6AaaU5OuTGyrKHKAPazTSlAWVoZybyl1b-HSf3c0PVOU3F8EYAmbS8ZPjZYYq3zP8R-R5yTVm8tjv_6pYxR5rRcCKtrj6GlaVK2TOXdK55NroIWavJAwKDrRP22gz05lQSxXXg/s640/blogger-image--357387650.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL6AaaU5OuTGyrKHKAPazTSlAWVoZybyl1b-HSf3c0PVOU3F8EYAmbS8ZPjZYYq3zP8R-R5yTVm8tjv_6pYxR5rRcCKtrj6GlaVK2TOXdK55NroIWavJAwKDrRP22gz05lQSxXXg/s640/blogger-image--357387650.jpg"></a></div></div>margmorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00900879863702928274noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27883813.post-24111542107525028432014-04-06T11:11:00.002-05:002014-04-06T11:11:57.390-05:00THAT'S NOT MY JOBBBBBBB!!!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMVTcq84iTYjiBrXqcn0OMa4dFYZSaDsSQp8WZWq-SsRgc4FBS8E0fKLiFv66cVdUKiWCwDT3Rej9tfoIFlUUXsXx0n-T9YpuyJMN6Ffj7WlitfocHLcq_pHIo9qmyHQbkd8E0LA/s1600/thats-not-my-job.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMVTcq84iTYjiBrXqcn0OMa4dFYZSaDsSQp8WZWq-SsRgc4FBS8E0fKLiFv66cVdUKiWCwDT3Rej9tfoIFlUUXsXx0n-T9YpuyJMN6Ffj7WlitfocHLcq_pHIo9qmyHQbkd8E0LA/s1600/thats-not-my-job.jpg" height="320" width="252" /></a>When I was in high school, I went to one of our Varsity soccer games, in nearby Bath. Soccer was big in our school- taking Football's place as our anchor sport in the Fall. I remember that this game happened on a warm and sunny Saturday morning, and the team we were playing against was very good. <br />
At one point, the ball went out of bounds- way out. In fact, it went out of the boundaries of the field, and down a little slope toward the parking lot. The other team's high scorer was standing at that corner of the field and watched it go. Soon his team mates yelled at him to go get the ball. <br />
He yelled back (in my memory, in some kind of southern accent? It's unlikely, but that's how it sounds in my head 30+ years later) "THAT'S NOT MY JOBBBB!!!" He said it a few times, as his teammates urged him to go get the ball so the game could start again. "That's not my job!! That is NOT MY JOB!" <br />
That phrase, in that accent, has been an inside (my head) joke that still makes me laugh. Something about this team star, muscly athlete yelling "THAT'S NOT MY JOB!" just cracks me up. I can't even remember what happened, or who ended up going to get the damned thing so they could start up again. <br />
I was thinking about it today because this week in one of our trainings, I asked the staff members there, representing all four of our parishes, to commit to being a welcomer at any Mass they attended. Before or after, when seeing someone who needs a seat, when noticing a newcomer- to be the person who says hello to everyone coming in their churches. Most of them raised their hands to commit but some didn't, and I could almost hear them whispering "that's noooottttt myyyyyy jobbbbbb." But of course it is their job, and my job, and yours- not because we all work at churches, but because we are baptized and urged to be disciples who make disciples. <br />
When the pastoral poop hit the fan around here in the 90s and our churches were struggling even to take a deep breath while we tried to stay afloat in the churning waters of scandal, and we all came to the realization that change needed to come to this Church, I saw people walk away, yelling with their actions: "THAT'S NOT MY JOB!" But of course it was their job, and my job, and yours- not because we are trying to keep the Church alive, but because we are baptized and urged to be disciples who make disciples. <br />
I hope that the next time you walk into a church, for whatever reason, that someone will smile at you. If you're late and looking for a seat, I hope that someone will beckon you over to their pew and slide over to give you room. And I hope together we can make the Church a welcoming place for everyone. I'm willing to do what I can to make that happen- after all, it's my job. margmorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00900879863702928274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27883813.post-48798580086562304152014-03-12T08:46:00.003-05:002014-03-12T08:46:42.622-05:00Life Before and After Death
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Recently I heard (yet another) fascinating episode of
<a href="http://www.radiolab.org/" target="_blank">RadioLab</a> that has kept me thinking for a couple of weeks now. The episode,
<a href="http://www.radiolab.org/story/black-box/?utm_source=local&utm_media=treatment&utm_campaign=daMost&utm_content=damostviewed" target="_blank">Black Box</a>, featured a story about butterflies, and specifically the
transition of caterpillar-to-butterfly. I am no scientist, and can’t really
explain it well (and definitely not in the fascinating way RL does) but the
part that stuck with me was that someone had written in to the scientist in the
story saying that the findings on butterflies had answered a question he had
about The Afterlife. He said he’d always wondered if, in heaven, he’d remember
his previous life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That came as a surprise to me. I’d never considered that a
person in the next life would have no memory of their life now. I’ve never even
questioned it- I have a rosy image of people in heaven (as the Church teaches)
watching over us and praying for us. But what if? Would that be a bad thing, to
be in a whole new consciousness? A living person doesn’t remember their time in
the womb- but it doesn’t mean that the time spent there was worthless or negative
in any way- on the contrary, I imagine gestation is an overall pleasant time
for a baby- floating, sleeping, growing to the beat of the mother’s heart. For
whatever reason, it’s not important for a person to remember their
life-before-life. Is it important for us to remember our life-before-death? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Last night I served a vigil for hospice and as I watched my
patient’s breaths grow ever shallower and shallower, I wondered what he was
experiencing. Was he seeing a light? Was he being greeted by his loved ones?
And, I wondered why he would hold on so strongly to this life- laboring to keep
breathing, keep breathing, keep breathing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I thought about how a youth group kid of mine had once told
me that his religion teacher said that heaven is just staring at the face of
God for eternity. He was upset by this description, asking “what if that’s not
what I want to do??” But I remember Jesus saying in the Gospels that we have to
love God more than our parents, our spouses… I remember Him saying that there
is no marriage in heaven. Maybe this is true, transcendent faith- to only want
to gaze on God’s face. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Still, last night, my patient breathed on for whatever
reason, and as I crawled into bed I couldn’t help but think- what in heaven
could be better than Scott’s toes touching my toes, a cat on my hip, a snoring
dog nearby? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
margmorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00900879863702928274noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27883813.post-62936881813728561662014-03-05T16:58:00.001-05:002014-03-05T16:58:31.045-05:00Non-Homily for Ash Wednesday<em>Today I led my first Ash-Wednesday prayer service at one of my new parishes, for a crowd of about a hundred people. They seemed surprised to see a lay female in the sanctuary but they rolled with it, and I got some really nice comments afterward. Here's the not-a-homily I gave:</em> <br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Last
year on Ash Wednesday, I was ready to roll. I was determined that that was
going to be the Lent where I really did it right. I set my sights on three
changes: I was going to cut back on carbohydrates, improve my posture, and
stop playing Bejeweled Blitz on Facebook. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 115%;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I was
actually excited for Lent to start! I wanted
to make changes- to turn my life around. Cutting out carbs
would be great for my health, cutting out Bejeweled Blitz would increase my
productivity, and sitting up straight is a habit I never formed in my youth.
This would be the year. I was going to dedicate my efforts to God and make
every one of those 40 days count, and as a reward for my efforts I would wear a
smaller dress and sit up straight at Mass on Easter Sunday. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<u><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 115%;"></span></u></span><br />
<span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Then,
though, reality set in. My family went through a stressful time
last Lent- my parents had entered that scary stage where they began to need
more care than they can give, and the stress of that distracted me from my
devotions. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<u><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 115%;"></span></u></span><br />
<span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So I
pretty much abandoned my low-carb- deal; instead I was stress-eating
Toblerone bars like they were vitamin pills. Ultimately, I abandoned that
effort. That is, I would still try, every morning, to start again, but if it
was too hard I would cut myself a break, and focus on the other two efforts. I
did okay with cutting out Bejeweled Blitz… that turned out to be the easiest of
the three efforts. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 115%;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I was
surprised to find that sitting up straight is actually<u> </u>a lot of hard work.
I guess that’s why I’d never done it before. Not only is it awkward and not
my usual comfortable position, but it takes a mindfulness that I had not expected<u>.</u> Not only did I have to sit
up straight but I had to notice when
I was slouching. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 115%;">I tried
not to give up on this effort, because I started, last year, to see these
Lenten decisions in a whole new light. When researching about Lent in order to
teach it to a parent group at my parish, I read something that said “giving up things for Lent is not a
requirement. But the Church asks us to do something penitential during
Lent.” <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 115%;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Somehow
in my 40-some years of Catholicism, I had missed that detail! The changes I
make during Lent are supposed to reflect not just my wanting to improve, or to
get healthy, or even to demonstrate my devotion to God. They are meant to be
signs that I am sorry for my sins. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 115%;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span>In
today’s Gospel, we hear Jesus reminding his new followers of this idea. He
advises: “Take care not to perform righteous deeds
in order that people may see them… do not blow a trumpet before you… do not let your left hand know
what your right is doing… do not look gloomy (when you fast)…”</span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 115%;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He is
reminding them, and us, that fasting and giving and praying are meant for a
greater purpose than just to do something good or difficult, more than just
having a list of things to check off or to work on. These are meant to be
penitential, personal acts that bring our
attention to our sinfulness. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 115%;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">In
light of this, my physical slouching took on new meaning. Because, I
realized how comfortable I have been in my sinfulness. That slouchy,
thoughtless position that I slide back into, without even noticing sometimes-
it’s similar to the state of my soul. It’s
easier to be sinful than to be mindful. It’s easier to go on with my
day, than to focus on God all the time. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 115%;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So when
I would catch myself slumping over, I tried to remind myself<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>that it’s not just my<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>physical posture that needs straightening up-
it’s my spiritual posture. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<u><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 115%;"></span></u></span><br />
<span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Lent is
more than a tune-up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lent is supposed to
have a certain degree of gloom to it. On Ash
Wednesday we step forward to join the ranks of the sorry. We wear a sign on our heads that shows the world (at the
grocery store and the other parents picking their kids up at school) that we are aware of our sinfulness, and are sorry for it. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 115%;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The
author Parker Palmer says, “...there is a hard truth to be told: before
spring becomes beautiful, it is plug ugly, nothing but mud and muck... But in
that muddy mess, the conditions for rebirth are being created...”<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 115%;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">All
through Lent we do some degree of correcting ourselves for our imperfect
postures. It would be so easy to just fast-forward over the mud and muck to
Easter flowers…but that is not how we roll in the Catholic Church. We know
that in order to have Easter, we must pass through Ash Wednesday, we must
endure Good Friday. To experience the beauty, we must first face the
ugliness- and to become holy, we must first face the ugliness that is within
each of us. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 115%;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So
today we begin our journey together from a cold, dark Ash Wednesday through a
plug-ugly muddy 40 days of Lent, toward a glorious and joyful Easter. Let’s
pray each other through it. God bless you this Lent.</span> <o:p></o:p></span><br />
margmorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00900879863702928274noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27883813.post-90015845301328559062014-01-28T19:25:00.001-05:002014-01-28T19:25:41.762-05:00Week ThreeDay 16, to be exact, and it seems that the days of crying all the way home are done. I mean, it may happen again at some point, but I feel less at sea, less homesick for my former parish, less in need of curling up against Scott for deep want of familiarity. Good things are starting to happen, and I'm meeting great people and starting to get my bearings. <div>This week I went over to one of my parishes to attend the noon Mass. I got there about 5 minutes early, and found the chapel locked. In the parking lot, a car (almost) full of older ladies in rain bonnets said "oh the priest is just late sometimes, get in our car, it's starting to rain!" I climbed in, and they all introduced themselves to me, saying "Oh I read about you in the bulletin!" Soon, I realized I had a key to the chapel and let us all in. Inside I met another older lady, and we all mused about who would have to say Mass if the priest didn't show up (he did, thankfully). </div><div>At Mass that day, we were joined by a young mother and her two year old, who was wearing a St. Michael shield and new the last few words of every prayer of the Mass. They sat right in front of me, and he would whisper to his mom "what's he doing now, Mom? Is he gonna drink?" She taught him the word chalice and he used it: "Ohhhhh he touched the chalice!! Wow!!" The ladies (including me) were delighted by his presence. </div><div>That afternoon, I had a full-on conversation with the spanish-speaking custodian at our rectory. Here it is, word for word: </div><div>"Oh Margo! Como estas?" </div><div>"Muy bien! Como estas?" </div><div>"Bien!"</div><div>Pretty good for my first spanish conversation. Later that day, I downloaded this cool app (<a href="http://www.duolingo.com/" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">http://www.duolingo.com/</a>)<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> and I'm going to work on a few words a day. Unfortunately this app does not teach Polish, which would be really handy. Ah well, first things first. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Today I spent the morning at one of my parishes meeting with the RE director there. She and her office mates were so gracious, generous, and warm, I felt so welcomed. I got a tour of the rectory (a HUGE old building, three floors and an attic! Huge!) and the school, also huge, which is used for religious ed now. They served me a deeeelicious lunch and invited me to move in. My former pastor (my first ministry boss!) is retired and living there, and it was wonderful to catch up with him. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">This afternoon, I met with my pastor and we traded some good feedback for each other. I'm feeling really hopeful about how we'll work together. I'm loving going to Mass during the week, and loving having appointments all over the city every day. The people are lovely, mostly, and the whole city seems poised on the edge of growth and depth. I think this is going to be good. </span></div>margmorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00900879863702928274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27883813.post-8869113680541578872014-01-13T20:23:00.001-05:002014-01-13T20:39:25.730-05:00Tender<br><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6oUa08mpwLbZ7RCbHm7KB5kGlC4hQYFoiRSabsHfpdgeyH7BJnJ4ddemPHV9aV9h5P2XawSN69uMY8SdJyfR-pW0iuksN4nhYGOPvuiyujE7zvt8c_TXj1Tpbc1IgwFfkExXO0g/s640/blogger-image--1257985784.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6oUa08mpwLbZ7RCbHm7KB5kGlC4hQYFoiRSabsHfpdgeyH7BJnJ4ddemPHV9aV9h5P2XawSN69uMY8SdJyfR-pW0iuksN4nhYGOPvuiyujE7zvt8c_TXj1Tpbc1IgwFfkExXO0g/s640/blogger-image--1257985784.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Last Sunday I spent the day being "live waked" at my former parish- my last day there after 6 and a half years was spent hugging people, being given gifts, receiving good wishes, being blessed, and weeping. Over coffee and donuts, so many people came to say good bye and good luck to me as I left for a great new job in another town. Even my family showed up! It was an emotional and overwhelming day, and it was affirming that the work I'd done there had made a difference. </span><div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">This past Sunday was my first in the new job, where I'll be managing pastoral ministers and volunteers- a brand-new job in a brand-new collaborative of four historic churches. I'm excited about this job- the job description is one I'd have written myself, and supervising pastoral ministers is something I love to do. So far, the people have been lovely. And there are a taco place, a soup place AND a hot dog place (among many others!) within walking distance of my office. </div><div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">But change is hard, even good change, and after one full week I feel... tender. Hopeful, excited, proud- but homesick for my former parish and achy to not be working with Scott every day. Today he called to tell me that he misses me and I wanted to leap back in time and be in my comfy basement office where I know every nook and cranny of the church building, and everyone's name. First weeks are hard for everyone, and maybe especially so for introvert like m'self, and I've come home at the end of each (good, really! All good!) day exhausted and trying to resist the urge to crawl into bed (okay some nights, I haven't resisted. But to be fair, our landlord was having the living room painted so it was a mess... and there's an electric comforter on the bed! AN ELECTRIC COMFORTER! THOSE EXIST!!)</div><div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">The other thing about this new job is that I'm working 9-5, like the regular folk do! I haven't worked 9-5 since I was a social worker, and I think it's going to be a different experience in a job I like, as opposed to... those days. I have a 12-or-so minute commute home and after a walk with Callie, I'm just... free. For hours. Time to cook dinner, do some chores, and... who knows what else? I think once it starts to get warmer and brighter, I'll be more productive. And, I think, once I get past the first week of crawly-to-bed-iness.</div><div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">So how's it going at the new job? Great! And lonesome, and exciting and fun and sad. And thrilling! So, you know, so far so good. </div></div>margmorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00900879863702928274noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27883813.post-88260592494297727352014-01-03T22:40:00.001-05:002014-01-04T13:58:42.573-05:007 Quick Takes: New Year's Edition<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.conversiondiary.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdzYFpbEXogbDZDKcQIOOae8YGDpMpJXGey0aIF9u-dtRR95Hv4PfWroI5bqiCK0giEuD0-sHb33czF7fONxdILANWCjca3XCC71q2TLKfvsjgMamoV2cqbOwB7dKJDQLPRzdgAA/s1600/7_quick_takes22.jpg" height="215" width="320" /></a></div>
Okay, it's Friday, right? Good. This week, between New Year's Eve and Day and the Snowstorm of the Year, I'm a little off-kilter. I was a little freaked out by all the work hours I was bumped out of by the snow, but it was also really nice to not be able to work. I have exactly 15 hours off between my old job that ends Sunday and my new job that starts Monday, and was wishing I could have grabbed a vacation day or two between, and BAM! 18 inches of snow later and I'm in my pajamas, snuggled up in bed watching a marathon of Dance Moms. I still have work to do before I can call my current job done, so I'm going to sneak in tomorrow and crank it out without anyone knowing I'm there. Shhh. Now, on with my 7.<br />
1) I posted yet another cute picture of my dog on Facebook the other day and a friend said "you two are having so much fun!" and she is RIGHT. This dog is a dream, too old to get on the furniture (seriously, not even when you invite her- she makes a face like "pulleeease") and young enough to be peppy and fun. She loves the snow and hurls herself down to roll around in it. She has been with us since early July and is really just now coming out of her shell with us- learning to look at us when we ask her to, and giving snuggles- when we first got her, she was kind of aloof. I really am having fun with this nearly-perfect and adorable dog.<br />
2) I have two new year's resolutions this year. First, I'm going to stop thinking so hard about what are the right socks to wear every day. I know this sounds weird, but I have lost precious minutes being paralyzed in front of my sock drawer in the morning, trying to remember the rules- are they supposed to match my shirt? Can I wear blue with brown? Pattern with a pattern? I don't know what's right, but I do know that giving this much energy to sock choices is wrong. So, I'm just going to pick some socks and go with it. I think it'll all work out.<br />
3) My other resolution is "use it or lose it-" which means, if I don't use it, I'm getting rid of it. Cleaning out my office has been a huge job, after 6 years of being at this parish. Some things were very easy to clean out, but some were tougher- a block of wood with affirmations scrawled on it from a retreat, a pillow signed by my last youth group, candle holders... so many candles. They were given in love from lovely people but do I really want to drag them to my new office? I look around my house and see SO MUCH STUFF. So much of it has a story or a meaning behind it, but it all just piles up. So I'm going to shed five things a day. So far it's been canned food (donating it), refrigerator magnets, and (ironically) socks. I know, I know, I'm threatening to shed over 1500 items but you know what? I can do it.<br />
4) www.conversiondiary.com, who hosts this blogging meme, is toying with the whole New Year's thing, and like her, I've gone "word for the year" instead of resolutions. I don't have a word yet for 2014, but she is asking what word would I retroactively assign to last year... and the word that pops into my mind is "CHANGE." This year so many changes came along that I did NOT see coming. They've been hard changes but I can see that they were important changes that moved me forward.<br />
5) I've been so concerned with leaving well, after having taken my current job from someone who left it a discombobulated mess. I'm probably over-doing the bow-tying, trying to make things perfect and easy for the person who's taking it from me, and I'm trying to strike a balance between making things good for her and trying to control how she takes it all on. I don't know what she knows and is expecting, and don't know what she's ready or not ready to do, but I do know that she'll have a GOF to lead a mere 4 days after starting, and I want that to be doable and go well for everyone involved. I don't want to undercut her, but don't want to leave her hanging.<br />
6) This week, while doing very little else, we've been bingeing on carbs. I know the tradition is to start one's diet on New Year's Day but I like to be a little renegade. Okay, that's not why we haven't started yet. It's more that we indulged in the spirit of these snow days, knowing that days of reckoning are coming. I don't regret one bite, except for the last bites of Chinese food I stuffed in my gullet tonight. I'm almost to the point of looking forward to getting my low-carb life back on track. It'll feel good to be healthy again. Whenever that happens.<br />
7) I am so excited for my new job, as much as I will miss my old job. I am in the curious position of having no vision for how it will go- I haven't seen my future office, don't know what my first days will entail... I wonder about how working in four parishes will be. Will they hand me a key ring on my first day with 24 keys on it? Should I be spending time in each building? Where should I be going to Mass? Where will I eat lunch every day? I can't wait to be on the other side of the wondering. I can't wait to get started.<br />
<br />
Maybe with my new job and new schedule, I'll be able to blog more? Clear your schedules and set your bookmarks, people. I have been reticent to blog for a couple of months while this new deal was being struck, but now I feel like I'll have a lot to tell. And I'll let you know if I get that word for 2014. LUNCH, maybe? KEYS? EXHAUSTION? NEW? Protein???margmorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00900879863702928274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27883813.post-74484984445440649442013-12-29T11:22:00.003-05:002013-12-29T11:22:41.285-05:00Breaking News<div class="MsoPlainText">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCxilAInQlQxYKi2ssNrkJi85FNAe6BVRBqOuQOmcXrwgyIgEw7btYiR8uhw6kV4-ijHplIgRed8OmxetD5G1W4oOoGjRpUBhlOjWnt1CceR-SR8DW8pibSRvI0lwncOzab7eYpA/s1600/announcement2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCxilAInQlQxYKi2ssNrkJi85FNAe6BVRBqOuQOmcXrwgyIgEw7btYiR8uhw6kV4-ijHplIgRed8OmxetD5G1W4oOoGjRpUBhlOjWnt1CceR-SR8DW8pibSRvI0lwncOzab7eYpA/s1600/announcement2.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a>I saw my cousin at a family gathering recently and she
said "what's this about a new job? You update Facebook all the time but
nothing about this!" And that got me thinking about the process of breaking personal news. </div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
Maybe it's just me. When I have big news I need to roll
it around in my head a bit before speaking it. It's <i>allllmost </i>like worrying
about jinxing it... but not exactly. This process (of changing jobs) has been
just about two months in the making, between applying and interviewing and waiting and
giving notice and wrapping up. It's an excruciatingly long time for me to have
news. I want to handle it right, release it the right way. I hate having
secrets but am loath to tell anyone, hate the attention of making announcements
but am dying to talk about it. </div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
When I was pregnant the last time, Scott and I sat
together the morning I discovered it and I said "let's just wait to tell
people." He agreed. It was our third (ultimately unsuccessful) pregnancy
and I did not want to go through the whole roller coaster again, just in case.
I hate having to <i>un</i>-tell news even more than the telling. So with our secret
sealed in between us, I went off to work. Scott called me when I reached the
bottom of our hill- <i>about 2 minutes later</i>- and said "I told someone." I
get it, I understand the need to tell, to let it out, to let someone in on the
lonely turmoil that is having news. </div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
When I was leaving my last job, it was a quicker process
(blessedly) but still, I was going to work with my colleagues and making plans
for the future that I knew I would not be a part of. My spiritual director said
"you're not lying, you're not keeping secrets. You're cooking something up
with God right now and it's not ready to bring it out of the kitchen." </div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
When there's news, there's suddenly a proper procedure.
Who needs to know right away? Who will have to hear this directly from me, who
will be angry if they hear it from someone else? How can I time the
announcement right so that I'm not having to say goodbye for a painfully long time? Is it
okay to tell the people I'm leaving that I'm really excited about the new job?
Although this is something I'm going through, grief that <i>I</i> have to face, I have
to acknowledge that the people I'm leaving behind are sad, too. How am I to accept
that grief without being... I don't know... self-aggrandizing? How am I </div>
to be okay
when someone doesn't seem all that sad that I'm going? It's all a delicate
balance, and fraught. <br />
<br />
<div class="MsoPlainText">
Still, through this whole process I've felt the strong
hand of God on my shoulder, directing my steps like my parents once did,
pushing me through the crowd at the fair. I remember the feeling of not needing
to be able to see the path ahead or even know where we were, because my much
taller parents could see what I couldn't, and would push me in the right
direction. All there was (is) for me to do was keep walking. So here I go! It
feels good and scary and exciting and unreal and promising and hard. And now
you know. </div>
margmorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00900879863702928274noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27883813.post-91505572657803560232013-12-11T12:31:00.002-05:002013-12-11T12:31:47.327-05:00These are a Few of My Favorite Rules.I've been thinking and reading and talking a lot about leadership lately, and when you have to explain your leadership style, it forces you to have to determine what it is. I've come up with three of my favorite themes for leadership and ones that I come back to over and over again while working with parish staffs.<br />
<b>1) The Levy Rule: </b>I don't know who Levy is, but I read somewhere about a company that lived by this rule, attributed to one of their leaders, Somebody Levy. The rule is: if you're going to suggest it, be prepared to make it happen. I've been in meetings where people say "we should have a soup kitchen in our church basement! Someone really ought to do that!" They mean Someone Else. But the Levy rule says that if you think it's important enough to suggest, you must be prepared, at least, to work toward making it happen. If you think it would be neat to have a sculpture of the Immaculate Conception in butter, but you don't know how to sculpt and don't have the time to learn and you don't have any butter, then stow that thought away on your inner shelf until a time when you can commit to it. On the other hand, if you know a butter sculptor and are willing to give her a call, then let's hear about that idea!<br />
(Another handy catch phrase is one used by this guy, however not in this video: "There's no 'they' on the Santa Fe!" is what this submarine captain told his people when they said things like "they didn't order the right part" or "they screwed that up." He taught them to change their language to "we" and that gave them ownership-agency- over the entire system. It's something I'm going to remember and use the next time someone tries to blame someone else for... whatever. Check out the TED talk about how this nuclear sub director got his workers all on the same... deck... I don't know... watch it:<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/DLRH5J_93LQ" width="420"></iframe>
<b>2) Don't Look for Trouble: </b>I have a pet-peeve, and it's when someone (especially me!) throws out a new idea, and it's met immediately with reasons why IT WON'T WORK. Ooooh it makes me seethe just thinking about it. When you hear an idea, even a crazy-sounding, impossible-sounding, hard-to-do-sounding idea, just take a beat. Take a breath and revel in the possibility. Maybe the idea as floated won't work, but maybe it'll be a seed to a whole new flower. Wonder about it. Consider the possibilities. Think about how it could work. Do all that first.<br />
<b>3) Assume and Expect the Best: </b>So often I've heard from parish staff members comments like these: "dno one will come to that." "They won't get it." "That language is too churchy, we need to make it simple." "No one reads the bulletin." I just don't believe that anyone is served by assuming the worst of the congregation. If it is true that you only improve at tennis by playing against someone who's better at it than you, then I think it's also true that we can challenge people to grow in their faith (and their vocabulary) by challenging. Here's an alternative catchy phrase that I try to remind people of on church staffs all the time: "If they're there, they care." Church is not considered mandatory by any means in the majority of our people anymore.If they're in our pews, it's because they care, at least a little, and we can and should work with them on that assumption.<br />
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I apparently collect catchphrases. Huh. I've got other rules, too, but... there's time for that in my busy blogging schedule! Now get back to work!margmorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00900879863702928274noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27883813.post-34092888266509162662013-11-25T19:54:00.004-05:002013-11-25T19:54:45.159-05:00Suprise Saturday!Don't tell anyone but we had a day off today! Our pastor gave us the day after a stressful week and busy busy weekend at the parish. He's pretty awesome! Anyway, it has been a magical day of pajamas and dog walks and snacks and daytime TV.<br />
First off and best of all, after my early walk with Callie (6:45! I think I am supposed to be discouraging her from waking me up but it's a pretty awesome way to start the day. She shakes her collar and breathes heavy and stomps her feet just like she does when we're coming home from work. She seems so happy to see me, and who would want to discourage that? Plus, she is 9.5 years old... the internet says that's 51 in human years and although I am only 45 I do not like having to wait to use the bathroom when I get up in the morning... so I can sympathize, ya know?) I went back to bed!! There is something special about morning, back-to-bed sleep. SO deep and rich, dreamy and lovely.<br />
Up at 11, we sat down for breakfast and watched some daytime television. Wow, daytime tv is so bad it's hard to look away. After catching today's episode of Wendy Williams (I can't help myself) "the Chew"- it's a pretty terrible show, but they featured this recipe and... color me intrigued! <br />
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<a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/35325178300947904/" target="_blank"><img alt="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/35325178300947904/" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6JBLKmOc7PyoXZHJOnhXfhGEPVZB24KmtjQTCgHorVkCpkJeUzFHcVMs9pSBL1YN19H0V0Z6AmRKB5xyFEaQz7Es1F_PfyRnURIFxq2xNcHm3ajmYoamafGQ-oFJ1r4zdUI7fgQ/s1600/spinachpie.jpg" /> </a></div>
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Later I watched Katie Couric's show (what's it called? I forget) and they had tips for shopping smart that seemed pretty solid. Behold: <a href="http://katiecouric.com/features/holiday-shopping-secrets/">http://katiecouric.com/features/holiday-shopping-secrets/</a></div>
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Just to redeem myself on the lazy scale (but hey, isn't that what days off are all about? Especially GIFT days off. We have been calling it a "surprise Saturday.") I'll share the mahstahpiece I created for dinner. I have no pics because we gobbled it all down pretty quick, but here's what we had:</div>
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ROASTED BUTTERNUT SQUASH </div>
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I cut the squash into strips, kinda like steak fries, and tossed them in oil, balsamic vinegar, a couple of shakes of cinnamon sugar and nutmeg. I roasted them at 500 d. for ten minutes, tossed them, and roasted ten more minutes. Sprinkled them with goat cheese and toasted pumpkin seeds. OH my they were good. </div>
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MINI-MEATLOAVES</div>
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I mixed ground beef with an egg, lots of parm. cheese and some onion powder. I melted butter and added Worcestershire sauce, and cooked the mini loaves (which are really just giant hamburger patties, let's be honest here) till they were cooked through. After they were cooked, I took them out and added cream cheese and some shredded cheddar to the drippings and voila: sauce. </div>
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It was all experimental but ultimately delicious! </div>
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Now I'm back in my happy place and ready to relax for the rest of this surprise Saturday on Monday. Hope your day was restful too!</div>
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<br />margmorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00900879863702928274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27883813.post-91897389632209799662013-11-06T20:38:00.001-05:002013-11-06T20:38:15.360-05:00That Book Has Been Flagged. I guess my reading burnout from grad school has faded, and now I'm back to reading for pleasure and no credit. I'm back to my grade school days habit of having a different book going in many locations. Here's what I'm reading now:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8xj0g35WrF1wMkFD_bAEURnNGALBl-9jlnSXMgBPH6Qw9NdZP0OIUwKR5KN2GBR9bijwtqE_TU9KXvy7TM3MvgisQcG_KLUSFKBjt-zRBvnATiy-bwb_BuEWYhvBXZ4aao-nacg/s1600/Forming-Intentional-Disciples.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8xj0g35WrF1wMkFD_bAEURnNGALBl-9jlnSXMgBPH6Qw9NdZP0OIUwKR5KN2GBR9bijwtqE_TU9KXvy7TM3MvgisQcG_KLUSFKBjt-zRBvnATiy-bwb_BuEWYhvBXZ4aao-nacg/s200/Forming-Intentional-Disciples.jpg" width="131" /></a></div>
<b>Forming Intentional Disciples, by Sherry Weddell.</b><br />
I've been reading this book for ever. Seriously, if I've done a "what I'm reading" post before, this book was probably on it. But it's a great read, full of fascinating Catholic facts and best practices of parishes doing it right.<br />
This book is in my car, for whenever I get somewhere early and have time to wait. <br />
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<b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUHc2sGCBzHPO0o89sWZWsCTWfVOKxQVC2YqkM3r4txKRGAZ8vQ3pYyiQAkaqvpVDMaEfD1dWmcBGQzhkhtSy6OxR3qDl8oArl7pSc6fgjpdfR6F2W3l1UZEd65Npb4sBvVbLZzg/s1600/rebuilt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUHc2sGCBzHPO0o89sWZWsCTWfVOKxQVC2YqkM3r4txKRGAZ8vQ3pYyiQAkaqvpVDMaEfD1dWmcBGQzhkhtSy6OxR3qDl8oArl7pSc6fgjpdfR6F2W3l1UZEd65Npb4sBvVbLZzg/s200/rebuilt.jpg" width="200" /></a></b></div>
<b>Rebuilt, by Tom Corcoran.</b><br />
Everyone who works in parishes is reading this right now! I haven't made much progress, and like the Disciples book better so far, but it's interesting. They basically looked at an evangelical mega-church and tried to apply their evangelizing practices to a Catholic parish, and BAM, started to grow. I'm not convinced that this is the way to survive, and to tell you the truth, I "attended" a webinar with this author this week and he seemed to be implying that there were some cracks in the plan. I dunno, I should read more before commenting probably. This one's in my office. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL6H8hmEEFiXFuGvSpTYvKXHe4_vga2hyphenhyphenAgdMZxbNfF36cTdt1v8l0IYcCzVSonKPX3NGKzDNPT4Iwib3i5927bj1LNpB87Gy3Bi12-Rw1vL4CfNObWD7MpR8DvdyxDp-4aPO9Qw/s1600/learners.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL6H8hmEEFiXFuGvSpTYvKXHe4_vga2hyphenhyphenAgdMZxbNfF36cTdt1v8l0IYcCzVSonKPX3NGKzDNPT4Iwib3i5927bj1LNpB87Gy3Bi12-Rw1vL4CfNObWD7MpR8DvdyxDp-4aPO9Qw/s320/learners.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b>The Learners, by Chip Kidd.</b><br />
This is the companion book to The Cheese Monkeys, which sucked me in and held me to the (weird) end. This one, I can tell, is going to be good too, but I've been distracted and will have to get back to it soon. This is a bathroom book.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPrH0FJwcdF3M_1gIc-pL-ZfK06v01Fc2xc9HNlnkmTYzxSWqdai5kv9ywnGldxGx7fpOq6tCKotPx-nq8Kw-iqSYN0tdS4vmGP6guNNZ6NPQEvNhuyyG-4KlT8XsPHxwjNUwDWg/s1600/The-Other-End-of-the-Leash-e1320687549174.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPrH0FJwcdF3M_1gIc-pL-ZfK06v01Fc2xc9HNlnkmTYzxSWqdai5kv9ywnGldxGx7fpOq6tCKotPx-nq8Kw-iqSYN0tdS4vmGP6guNNZ6NPQEvNhuyyG-4KlT8XsPHxwjNUwDWg/s200/The-Other-End-of-the-Leash-e1320687549174.jpeg" width="143" /></a></div>
<b>The Other End of the Leash: Why We Do What We Do Around Dogs</b><br />
I just finished this one, which is written by an animal behaviorist, and fascinatingly talks about how primates and canines can communicate better with each other. Not a dog training book, really more of an animal science book but with great stories and a philosophy of dog-rearing that I really like. She talks about, for instance, the difference between dominance and aggression, and says that if you are dominant, you don't need to resort to aggression.<br />
Riiiiight??? Fascinating stuff.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSOSEeyS1OyzQsdaPkd2cvI74uCZWUhI_J9DeOp_C7yMtawauFvmQGqH_vur389NOnMRMR-rHf8fq0R9jK9HEJLHeauUaoZswD7Rpvx8mPzDIFJGZOYeku_4NGV9P4tzEPcSj05A/s1600/MR+Love+Has+No+Age.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSOSEeyS1OyzQsdaPkd2cvI74uCZWUhI_J9DeOp_C7yMtawauFvmQGqH_vur389NOnMRMR-rHf8fq0R9jK9HEJLHeauUaoZswD7Rpvx8mPzDIFJGZOYeku_4NGV9P4tzEPcSj05A/s200/MR+Love+Has+No+Age.jpg" width="130" /></a></div>
<b>Love Has No Age Limit, also by Patricia McConnell</b>, who also wrote the leash book.<br />
This is the book I wished for when we brought Callie home! I'm still reading the "how to prepare/bring home" chapters just to see if we did it all right. I'll let you know. This one's in the bathroom too, but I carried it around in my pocketbook today in hopes I'd have a free minute to read it. I didn't.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyFzihb0CBQ-1faSmRCVWBVN-G6772PonRETDRstOPz7lLVBrfCXGKMgcAUcsD7O3mlZuRWYTKqAtREvjfXQmUNC7Aqkyhjsp6GNhGVvzCCEWv5ytQDxhY7Gk_dEZFtzK7nF6gAg/s1600/birdbybird.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyFzihb0CBQ-1faSmRCVWBVN-G6772PonRETDRstOPz7lLVBrfCXGKMgcAUcsD7O3mlZuRWYTKqAtREvjfXQmUNC7Aqkyhjsp6GNhGVvzCCEWv5ytQDxhY7Gk_dEZFtzK7nF6gAg/s200/birdbybird.jpg" width="131" /></a></div>
<b>Bird By Bird- Ann Lamott.</b><br />
This one's in my Hospice bag, and I read it after prayers and during my Pandora John Rutter channel is playing, if the patient is in a coma and doesn't seem to need me to interact with him/her. Oooooh I like this book, even though I'll never write a novel. She is encouraging and insightful and just damaged enough to relate to.<br />
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<b>Messy Spirituality- Mike Yaconelli</b><br />
Finally getting around to reading this classic, and it's not disappointing. Picked it up randomly when someone donated it at work, and it turns out that this week was the 10th anniversary of Mike's death. Mike was the quintessential cheerleader of Youth Ministers/Ministry, and an inspiring guy all 'round. This one's in the bathroom at work, natch.<br />
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I think that's it- by the end of it all, I'll know how to train a Catholic dog to design a book jacket. <br />
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<br />margmorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00900879863702928274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27883813.post-59443365107610439382013-10-31T07:49:00.003-05:002013-10-31T07:49:54.124-05:00Can we talk about that ad???<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="323" scrolling="no" src="http://www.ispot.tv/share/715F" width="500"></iframe>
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Is it just me?<br />
Whenever I see this ad on tv my head spins. Not like I'm ovewhelmed by intense thought; more like that girl in the Exorcist movie.<br />
The premise is that this guy is taking his little girl to school. I'm guessing she's a second grader? She wants to dress inappropriately for school, in her butterfly princess outfit. He says no, because of course, that is ridiculous, you don't wear costumes to school. She, like the mature little champ that she is, accepts his direction and puts on a perfectly lovely dress, a dress that 8/10ths of the world's children would thank the stars above to wear.<br />
But then... she sighs. She is experiencing sadness, disappointment. But just a little! She's not crying, she's not threatening to leap out of the car.<br />
So Dad turns around, because apparently they are so early that they have plenty of time to head back and change her entire freaking outfit and make it back to school for picture day.<br />
When did it become so unbearable for parents to allow their kids to feel feelings? This guy's reasonable parenting efforts were dismantled by one sigh. My parents had no problem with us feeling disappointed... in fact I think they kind of enjoyed it. When we'd say "but I <i>want</i> (whatever)...!!!" my parents would say (siblings, say it with me): "Wanting builds character."<br />
Seriously, this girl is experiencing a modicum of disappointment and handling it well and this guy BLEW IT.<br />
I heard a stunning radio doc a few years ago (wish I could cite it, sorry) where a woman said "parents think their job is to make their kids happy, but it is to make them <i>resilient</i>." If move into adulthood as resilient people, you see, they can find/make their own happiness. I believe parents think back on their childhood moments of unhappiness but forget to change lenses- they see those disappointments through the eyes of their inner child, and forget that they were building blocks to the lives they have built. It's not a good thing to live a life free of disappointment. This doc also said that even after all these years of parental efforts to "make children happy," modern teenagers' average rates of stress equal those of teenagers who were <i>institutionalized</i> in the 1950's, implying that this formerly debilitating level of stress has become the norm. We are not raising resilient kids.<br />
Wanting DOES build character, and dealing with frustration and the occasional "no" builds resilience, and that's going to be important if kids are ever going to launch from their parents' homes and make lives for themselves one day.<br />
Oh and here's another thing I think whenever this ad plays- I imagine that man's wife coming home from work that day to find that her daughter wore that ridiculous outfit to school... on picture day... and I bet she gives that guy an earful... and I hope she signs her daughter up for the retakes.margmorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00900879863702928274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27883813.post-60948045184539155312013-10-19T16:46:00.002-05:002013-10-19T16:47:51.642-05:007 Quick Takes Friday, Not Quick At All* Edition<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.conversiondiary.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwLbn2dmHI_pfh6J32t-fLDkisWWqmdwRHdIGwvLocCW6bfnDLaKnJ4n15wua6eBdkz-GTYFwtABuTGtVfeU7KFaJtc4d2WACbcXLwoQPavB9bGhN7PmQnlrh0IhI6yLCnmMGGFA/s1600/7_quick_takes_sm1.jpg" /></a></div>
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*also, I realize it is not at all <i>Friday</i>.<br />
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1) Well work has been outrageously stressful lately. Not stressful like people who have actual stress have, like, I don't know... emergency room surgeons or EMTs or... I can't think of non-medical examples right now, but you know what I mean. But it has been stressful, in that we have been preparing for our first "real" GOF sessions, the first of which was last night and then will be again tomorrow. They're "real" this time because last month, we had a guest performer who did a one-man show for everyone, meaning we didn't have to break out into groups, or have teachers in place, or any of that hard stuff. Last night went pretty well, considering the MANY loose/moving parts to putting on a night like this.<br />
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2) This year (and hopefully not for long), I've stepped into the DRE position, a job for which I am, let me just say, the wrong tool. I don't know nothin' about teachin' no children- my expertise starts at about grade 6. In fact now that I'm thinking of it, the one year I worked with 2nd graders (at a Catholic Charities afterschool daycare) was one of the worst in memory... and it was for the same reason- I had no business leading/teaching little ones. Funnily, I've had so many conversations this past year with people who were miserable about being in the wrong job- and I've told them all what I believe to be true: that God gifts us specifically, and when we are not using those gifts, nobody wins- not God, not the people around us, not us. Now here I am in the wrong spot myself, knowing the job should be done better than I can do, and knowing I could be doing good work in another (aka my former) position. ANYhoo, the hope (prayer) is that someone will step up, take on this part of the job, and let me go back/forward to being an adult faith formation person/pastoral associate at my current parish. In the meantime, everyone suffers. Ha! Just kidding, I think it's mostly me (and Scott, poor Scott).<br />
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3) While we're on this topic, let me urge you... when you leave your job, don't just walk away. Even if you hate it or are SO DONE with it or don't care who comes in after you, leave something helpful behind- a calendar, lists of people, information on what you did. Maybe the new person won't need to use what you leave, but it will help, and it will help you feel like you did something professionally courteous. <i>Leave well</i>, that's what I urge you. I'm still digging out from under my predecessor, and it's making me think angry thoughts toward my former colleague! When I've left jobs in ministry before, I've always cleaned out computer files and old stuff, and left a "successor file" for whoever came in after me. Contacts, info, lists, directions, outlines, suggestions. In my last job, the jamoke that took over for me promptly stashed that binder in a back closet with nary a look (I'm told), but a few years later I spoke to his replacement, who thanked me sincerely for the files. Just, kids, seriously- leave well.<br />
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4) On a completely unrelated topic, we have been having this yellow jacket invasion at our house. They built a nest (hive?) behind the light over our door, which would be bad enough, but if you remember our indoor squirrel issue from a few years back, you know that the space between our inner and outer walls are basically empty- so we've been killing about 20-25 big-ass yellow jackets in our kitchen every day for a few weeks. Yellow jackets are not bees- they are some kind of nasty, vindictive creatures that, when killed, emit a Shark/Jet-like pheromone that summons its friends to come and co-attack whoever killed it. Nice! Well, finally the pest guy came today, telling us he has chemicals that you need LICENSE to use, and that he would spray, then powder the nest, then seal it up. "But," I asked, "If they can't get out, won't they just come IN?" He admitted that this was likely and that we should stand by. We watched him work through a porch window at a safe distance, and have since killed about 8-10 half-dead and super resentful YJ's in the kitchen. The pest guy (I like to call him "that pesticidal maniac") was calling me "deah" by the end of the visit and gave me his personal phone number, in case we need to call him back in. I'm not sure if that was a compliment or a hint that things were about to get much, much worse. Either way, I have it in a safe place.<br />
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5) I've been doing LEX again at work, in the afternoons with seniors (I like to call it "little old lady lex" but really, these gals are impressive scholars, and blow my mind with their insights every week), and young adult/adult (21+) "alcoholic lex" in the evenings, with wine and snacks. It's turned into this awesome thing, reminiscent of my old beloved "Banana Bread and God" group with kids. Now the participants know how to look for insight in the scriptures, and they dig really deep with each other- AND they bring delicious snacks, which is a lovely development! Only two weeks to go on this series, and then a break until Advent. Now THIS is the job I was meant to do. I'm so glad I can still do it. This week one of my afternoon ladies said "I'm really starting to like the Gospel of Luke!" How cool is that?<br />
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6) Here's how cool:<a href="http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/102013.cfm" target="_blank"> this Sunday's Gospel</a> is about the dishonest judge and the persistent widow. At non-alcoholic Lex we puzzled over the judge- were we supposed to be learning that God is like a dishonest judge, or that if we just harass God long enough he'll get annoyed enough to grant our prayers? Didn't seem right. One of my afternoon ladies, though, pointed us toward the widow, who is almost barely mentioned in the story. But in Luke, widows are used as an example of a powerless person- someone with no authority, no ability to get things done. This widow, though, DOES have a power- ONE power: persistence. We concluded that maybe the message for us in this gospel is that we have ONE power- prayer- and that all Jesus wants us to do with this story is to remember to hang in there, prayer-wise. I love that!<br />
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7) Go Red Sox! All through this series, every time I've tuned in to the games, the sox have started to flounder, and when I leave the room or change the channel, they do better. So, basically, the fate of the World Series is on my shoulders. It's a lot of pressure, but I'm holding up okay. Let me know how tonight's game goes!margmorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00900879863702928274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27883813.post-11585358454077702422013-10-01T09:34:00.000-05:002013-10-01T13:29:33.803-05:00Sharing Stories<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Recently I was dining with a few friends and someone told a story. MY story. It was about a funny thing that happened to me several years ago, and I've told it a few times since it happened. But this time, I sat quietly as it was told to a table of people, from someone else's point of view, as if it happened to the teller. I was fascinated. I listened for how different the details would be- the story teller got a few wrong, but also, dressed some up to be really visual. He held his hands up and made a worried face for some of the story, and gave the characters actual <i>lines</i>, where in my version of the story, there is really no dialogue.<br />
He got a few laughs, and I wasn't sure whether to be proud or mad about it. Mostly, I was just fascinated by the way stories come to have their own lives.<br />
I think I've done this before, had this deeply familiar story that turned out to be something that actually happened to a sibling, for instance. Just this morning I told Scott something that I immediately doubted- did my friend bring my dog to visit me while I was on retreat that time? Or did she just say she <i>thought about </i>bringing the dog? It would have been really nice to see my dog there, that emotional weekend, and somehow I can see him, on the other end of the leash from my lovely friend, just lovely that she even thought to do that, even if it didn't really happen.<br />
One of our family legends is told by my uncle, who would swear on the birthplace of the baby Jesus that my brother, as a young kid, pulled the tablecloth out from under a table full of dishes, like a magician. I've heard that story evolve over the years- over time the background details have developed; at one point my brother was just threatening to do it, and I think at some points in the history of its telling the trick was successful and at others, not so. I remember hearing how mad my parents were, and the most interesting detail to me is that my uncle says now that my brother was reading a book about magic tricks, and that's what inspired him to attempt it.<br />
Honestly I have no idea what happened or didn't happen. But I like that my uncle feels this ownership over the story, and I can tell that he has vivid vivid images in his head when he tells it, seeing it all unfold just as plain as day, even while my family sits around him with their eyes rolling and their heads shaking <i>nooooooo</i>, <i>that's not how it wasssss. </i><br />
I <i>think</i> I heard on Radiolab that our memories are pretty much stored in our brains like files in a filing cabinet, and that they get changed every time we pull them out and look at them. So, they said (I think) the best way to keep a memory/file pristine is to never pull it out. What a conundrum! Is it better to have our perfectly preserved memories hidden away, or our stories constantly remolded over time? Maybe our most-mused-over memories and stories bear very little resemblance to our real experience, after a while. But, you know, maybe they're better than the originals.<br />
I kind of like the idea that my story can become someone else's memory, even if it's not <i>true</i>. Maybe the reason my friend felt so involved in that story is because of my vivid telling of it. Yep, that's probably what happened, or at least, that's how I'm going to remember it.margmorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00900879863702928274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27883813.post-836168190724131372013-09-21T10:14:00.002-05:002013-09-21T10:14:23.445-05:00Forward-looking<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's not Friday. I know. But still, here are seven quick things about which I'm excited. (Warning: this post is chock-full of exclamation points, so you may want to sit down to read it, lest the excitement knock you off your feet.) There are so many things to look forward to right now, and here they are in no particular order.<br />
1) <b>GOF</b>! Our parish Generations of Faith program starts TOMORROW OH MYCRAP TOMORROW??? Are we ready? Yes! We are! And it's going to be great. A few years ago we stopped the insanity and started hiring a guest speaker/performer for the September session, giving us a WHOLE MONTH to put curricula together,figure out teachers, make group lists, add kids who have been turned away from other parishes (oh yes, that happens)... so tomorrow and Sunday we just... host. Hospitality and fun, seeing families we haven't seen for a while, welcoming new people, and putting finishing touches on decorating and food and tech. It's a wild, crazy time, but I am psyched to get started!<br />
2) <b>Real TV!</b> Oh how I've missed my stories! Thank God for such summer tidbits as <a href="http://www.bbcamerica.com/broadchurch" target="_blank">Broadchurch</a>, <a href="http://www.comedycentral.com/shows/drunk-history" target="_blank">Drunk Histor</a>y, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1870479/" target="_blank">The Newsroom</a> and <a href="http://www.cbs.com/shows/under-the-dome/" target="_blank">Under The Dome</a> (that last one being a little embarrassing to admit). But I can't wait to finally found out How He Met Your Mother,and see my pals on Parks and Rec, Modern Family... oooh and Michael J Fox is back on tv! I know, I'm a junkie.<br />
3) This frickin' <b>Pope</b>!! Check out this headline: "<a href="http://www.irishtimes.com/news/social-affairs/religion-and-beliefs/pope-francis-proclaims-an-end-to-the-church-of-small-things-1.1533902" target="_blank">Pope Francis proclaims an end to the Church of small things"</a> I can't tell you the thrill that a headline like that gives me. Honestly, I couldn't get through two paragraphs of that article before I started choking up. It's so so good.<br />
4) The <b>winter</b>! I know, I know. Famous last words. And this is the first year EVER that I've looked forward to winter. Maybe it's old age or maybe it's the crazy humidity of this summer, but I'm just sick of sweating! I'm ready to bundle up with my electric blanket, and pull out my scarves, and make soup.<br />
5) On a related note, I'm excited about a <b>winter with a dog</b>. I can just picture her romping around in the snow, ice balls on her fluffy toes... and easier-to-scoop-poop! Oh yes, winter is promising!!<br />
6) I'm finishing up my <b>NPR trifecta </b>this Fall with tickets to Radiolab LIVE in Boston! This completes the set with a trip to see Garrison Keillor in the summer, Wait! Wait! Don't tell me! at Tanglewood last month (which is where we usually see GK... it was so cool to see something else there in the dark! Usually we bring a picnic and wine and accoutrements, and the show is mid-summer from 6-7:30 or so. But this show was on Thursday, so we got food there at T-wood, brought a simple set-up, and watched the show out under the stars. It was fun and beautiful).<br />
7) I started writing this on Thursday and now it is Saturday, and we've had our first GOF and now I'm looking forward to the <b>second</b> one. HURRAY for time passing and good things coming!<br />
Here's a picture of one of the above-mentioned items. Just, instead of pine needles, picture fluffy snow, and ice balls on those toes.<br />
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<br />margmorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00900879863702928274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27883813.post-55114059106327939692013-09-07T11:38:00.000-05:002013-09-07T11:38:16.414-05:003 little wordsOn our recent family camping trip, siting around the campfire, conversation naturally turned to religion. Ha! I wonder if this is something that happens in other families? But hey, if you have churchies in your family, this is the risk you run.<br />
Still, I am not one for religious debate- I don't mind talking about faith (I'd much rather write about it) but I do worry about saying something wrong or worse, not-quite-right. I feel like religion is such a tricky thing to talk about well, especially in group-chat kind of settings. So when we started the conversation, I kept quiet, except when I couldn't.<br />
Often, in those settings, people just want to say what they want to say- they're not looking for insight, I find. But within a group I think there are also people who earnestly long to know, really have questions they'd love to ask. And there are inevitably, I think, people who are wondering why we don't all just shut up about this stuff, or who think it's crazy, or who have been so badly wounded by some church that they are seething through the whole conversation.<br />
Anyway. I've been thinking about one of the questions that came up that starry night- the "where was God" question. It's the bazillion dollar question- I just saw it handled rather badly by a vicar on a BBC show, in fact, today (Broadchurch! Are you watching? It's not a church show, it's a mystery, and wow it's good!).<br />
The question goes "where was God when this bad thing happened?" If something bad happens to one person and something good to someone else, does that mean God picked them to bless, rejected the other? Was someone being punished by God when something bad happened? Or, on the other hand, was someone being blessed by God in return for good behavior, or strong faith?<br />
Well, here's what I think.<br />
I think that like we read in 1 John, God is Love. Ta-daaa!!! No, no, there's more. This idea, that God is Love, is the key to that "where was God" question. If God is Love, then when you ask "where was God" you can also ask it this way: "where was love?" It's an easier question to answer- of course, you can look at the very worst of situations and find love. Say, for instance, that your friend has a terrible accident. Where was love? Maybe love was in his family who came to visit him in the hospital. Maybe love was in the nurses who cared for him, in the blood donated by strangers... maybe love was in the co-workers who sent flowers. Maybe love was in the friends who arranged for meals to be cooked for your friend while he was recovering. Maybe love was in the heart of your friend, who resolved to change his life. But what if your friend died? Love is still there, in all those places. Love abides in accidents, in illnesses, in the darkest of war.<br />
But love- it does not keep us safe. It does not save us from harm or hurt. Love just... loves. Love manifests, love sustains, but love does not do tricks. Love doesn't keep track of faith or good works, Love does not reward, love does not punish.<br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span>or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful;<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span>it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Doesn't that scripture seem suddenly more radical? And, if this is true, doesn't it necessarily have to change the way we think about how God works? It changes the way we pray and the way we worship- it changes what we expect of God, and it changes how we share our faith with others. God Is Love are the three most life-changing words I've ever heard. </span>margmorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00900879863702928274noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27883813.post-59636811208688430672013-09-03T18:12:00.000-05:002013-09-03T18:12:14.233-05:00It's practically summer again!It's crazy, innit, that it's September already? School started in our neighborhood this week, and oh how things are ramping up at work as we prepare for the beginning of our faith formation year. Time does truly fly, and although I'm half mourning the summer already and half longing for cooler temps, I'm also half-dreading the impending WOOSH of events and activities and half-taking comfort in the fact that before I turn around, it will all be over with. Somehow my stress is eased by the fact that the Fall will zip by as fast as the summer did. Soon I'll be saying "remember when I blogged about how fast this time would go? Seems like yesterday!"<br />
I gues this comfort in the wildly fast passing of time is related to my unease with suspense. I don't kow how it will all end, but somehow knowing it WILL end is soothing to me. How weird is that?<br />
This month we kick-off Generations of Faith with a guest performer (halleluiah, I don't have to know what I'm doing until the second session! Thank you Frank Runyeon!) and that means I have logistics to figure out, meetings to have, and creativity to muster. I'm half-looking forward to getting it going and half... prematurely exhausted. Ha!<br />
Here's a daily online retreat from the Irish Jesuits, in case you've not heard of it yet. Breathe. Breeeeeathhhhhe. <a href="http://www.sacredspace.ie/">http://www.sacredspace.ie/</a>margmorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00900879863702928274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27883813.post-39476944853271364832013-08-27T13:44:00.000-05:002013-08-27T13:49:48.526-05:00Seeing What's There<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVH8ErmS_RjqZEsupO_RW_UuqqkT0LDuc50Ab6bTBNO8HZe4dA2ZpJKjmQXrJpymiAiMhR9udvC3DypZ8tTF2b7ISwIhEb9qoLMYRUlR8rvk3vrEl4yzXy7zKQR4-6Szr0B9c2_g/s1600/classphotome.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVH8ErmS_RjqZEsupO_RW_UuqqkT0LDuc50Ab6bTBNO8HZe4dA2ZpJKjmQXrJpymiAiMhR9udvC3DypZ8tTF2b7ISwIhEb9qoLMYRUlR8rvk3vrEl4yzXy7zKQR4-6Szr0B9c2_g/s1600/classphotome.jpg" /></a>Recently Scott pointed out the freckles that dot my nose and cheeks. I was surprised and asked "oh do I still have freckles?" Now, I've had freckles as long as I can remember. I've always <i>liked </i>having them. I remember my cousin Cindy commenting that my freckles were "well-spaced" when I was in middle school, and how satisfying that sounded to me- at a time when I wasn't able to do much well on purpose, at least my freckles were in order.<br />
My freckles seem to fade a bit in the winter and then pop out when the sun hits them in early summer. With all the camping and outdoor activities I've done this summer it makes sense that they're a bit more vivid than usual. But still, I was surprised with Scott pointed them out. As much as I know about the existence of my own freckles and their well-spaced-ness, I kind of had forgotten about them.<br />
Here's the thing: I look at my face in a 6X mirror every morning! How could I have stopped seeing my own freckles? In all my looking for flaws in that mega-magnified mirror, I'd stopped seeing the very things I liked about myself.<br />
I think this situation applies to so many parts of our lives. How often do we forget the very things we loved about the people we love? How often do we spend so much time looking for God to act one way and miss the millions of other ways that God moves? Are we blinded by familiarity, or do we simply forget to look for the good around us?<br />
I know that for me, my relationship with God grew... was magnified... when I stopped looking for God to appear in my image. When I opened my eyes to see what was already there, I was happy with what I saw. I try now not to get distracted by my own rutted way of seeing, and look for God in places where I least expect. I'm going to take a closer look in the mirror, too, and check out these old freckle friends of mine. I wonder if they're still well-spaced?margmorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00900879863702928274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27883813.post-19861589821008231022013-08-12T15:11:00.000-05:002013-08-12T15:11:00.520-05:00Yield<br />
Today I went for an hour-long massage, an unbelievably gratifying luxury I've awarded myself, justified by the fact that I get a discount for going more often. Outside of going out to eat, I'm not a huge spender by nature (check out my fancy car!) so I add that to my justifications. But hey, why am I justifying it to you?<br />
Anyway, I love my massage therapist, who kicks my muscles' butts (oh yes, muscles have butts) and is just gifted and lovely. Today I breathed into it and asked God for a word, a sign to help me be present and relaxed this week, my vacation week. I got a word, and a sign, all in one:<br />
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I lay there thinking about how we still use this word and how surprising it is that it hasn't been replaced by something dumber. Then I thought over what word might replace it... I define the word as giving up something, to someone else... to someone else's control. The replacement word eluded me for about half an hour but when the therapist tackled my feet I thought "surrender." That's the other word for yield, and that's why it hasn't replaced the word yield. Nobody likes to surrender, myself included.<br />
But it also occurs to me that just about every time I pray for a word from God, the word I get is surrender. It's something I must be reminded of, over and over. I pray for a relief of stress, and I'm asked to surrender. I ask for something to be cured or fixed and the suggestion is to surrender. I beg for direction, for answers, and the answer is... surrender. So, I yielded to the skilled hands of my massage therapist, I'm yielding to vacation, yielding to the passage of time at work without me there, yielding to the passage of time altogether. For now, anyway, until I find myself seeking help again.<br />
margmorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00900879863702928274noreply@blogger.com0