I'm rethinking friendship...
I remember telling one of my youth group kids that life is like a river, and that we are like twigs floating along that river, and that at various points other twigs would float alongside us, and then the current would take us different ways. The point being, friends come and friends go.
And, I really have believed that. I think it began when I realized with surprise that I was no longer friends with the high school students I'd graduated with- the soulmates I had bawled and cried about on graduation day, swore I'd never lose touch with, knew in my heart that we would be friends for LIIIIIIIIFFFEEEAGGGGAGAAAAWWWW..... But by sophomore year in college, I'd lost touch with most of them. In my defense we did not have facebook back then, or AIM, or even email! To keep in touch then meant hand-written letters, or saving a coffee-mug full of quarters for a phone call in the phone booth in the dorm hallway. Besides, I had a whole new crop of besties, and didn't feel like I had much to tell my old friends after a while. It was too much work to update each other on our lives after so long between contacts. (What? You dyed your hair blond? When did THAT happen? Six MONTHS AGO?)
But by the time I graduated from college, I was resigned to the idea that soon, I'd lose touch with most of my college friends, too- even this was before email, and now everyone would be moving on and moving away.
I kept in touch with a few important friends, and lost touch with a few important friends. But after years, even my most important friends drifted away and were replaced with new Social Work friends, who were then replaced by Youth Ministry friends.
Then, just about everyone was pushed aside (but not replaced) by my husband. I knew, though, too, that this happens when one gets married- and in truth, most of my friends were getting married or having children too, and entering their own silos. A group of my friends, "the girlies", have done pretty well keeping in touch- we all worked in one way or another at a group home nearby, and all of us have moved on now to a variety of different lives.
I'm not good at keeping in touch with my friends when they have children, I'm sorry to say. I am no Auntie. It's terrible but it is kind of like having a friend that gets deep into some hobby, I don't know, like Ju-Jitsu... and all they want to talk about is Ju-Jitsu. I don't do Ju-Jitsu- I'm happy that you love it, but describing the moves in detail doesn't make me love it. I love my friends' kids, but I don't do kids. I know that makes me a jerk.
But I'm there when trouble hits, I know that- if you're in crisis (even if it's a Ju-Jitsu crisis!) I'm there. I'll bring you comfort food, I'll sit with you in silence, I'll run errands for you. (Oh, but I don't babysit.)
But along comes Facebook. Now I'm being contacted by old Youth Ministry friends, Social Work friends, College friends, High School friends, and even Elementary School friends!! It has been amazing how easy it has been, albeit over the interweb, to feel kinship with people that I literally have not seen (and some I'd forgotten about completely) since 1978. Our memories do connect us.
Last weekend was my college reunion- and I ended up spending the day with three of my dearest college friends. I was so nervous to see them, and they were nervous too, and I wondered how we'd catch up on 18 years of history- but by the end of the afternoon, it was amazing how easy it was to be together again... and I felt sad that I'd let all that time go by. My friend Deidre hugged me hard and said "it doesn't have to go back to not being in touch. Not again." And I don't want it to. I found myself dreaming, on my drive to work today, about the 4 of us getting away for a weekend, bringing our wedding pictures and old stories, and getting to know each other again. Now, I guess, I see why people do that.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Dreaming
The job posting for the Director of Youth and Young Adult Ministry position in the Archdiocese of Baltimore is up, and it sets me to dreaming... as a kid in youth ministry, with my newly-discovered call, I set my sights on eventually working at the diocesan level in my home state of Maine, where YM was progressive, professional, and devoted at that time. I don't know how things are there now, but I've always kept my eye on that office, because, hey- who knows? I feel quite sure that I'd never ever ever get a position at the A-Diocesan level here in Boston. I'll leave that at that. But Baltimore, lovely Baltimore... Scott and I have long looked at Baltimore as the promised land. They actually do stuff- a lot of great stuff! Recently they took a long hard look at the sacrament of Confirmation (something every diocese and YM office should be doing), for instance. They are taking a strong lead in the ultra-important area of adolescent catechesis. Oh, and Compass? So cool. If only Baltimore was in Boston. Sigh...
Still, it's tempting to imagine what I'd do in that position. I have been critical, I know, of the decisions made by our own office in the past few years, so I've spent some time with the question of "oh yeah? What would YOU do then?" And here's what I think I'd do, to start. I think I'd spend a year traveling around my new territory, meeting YM's and finding out what is going on in parishes. I'd read a LOT of bulletins, websites, parish reports, and I'd attend a LOT of YM events, both parish and diocesan. I'd serve on the teams of diocesan activities, as retreat team member, as kitchen crew, as small group leader, as grunt-person. I'd be doing lots of setting up and cleaning up, and I'd attend so many meetings it would make the average person's head spin. I'd ask everyone a lot of questions about how things have gone, how things are going, and how things could/should go in the future. I'd have a lot of dinners, lunches, and coffees with a lot of pastors and YM Coordinators. And I'd do a lot of praying and faith sharing with diocesan staff.
And after all that, I'd get down to work, having identified the mission of the office, and getting people on board with working toward that mission. I love the job description for the Baltimore job- it is a great description, too, for the parish Coordinator of YM. It occurs to me that my description, up there, is similar to how I'd start at a parish YM position, too. Last week our staff discussed that we must not consider our congregation as a big white piece of paper to which we are bringing the color. We must give our people credit for the gifts, talents, and yearnings they bring to the table. The Archdiocese of Baltimore is already doing great work, what an amazing position to step into... their next Director is going to be very blessed to join that team.
Still, it's tempting to imagine what I'd do in that position. I have been critical, I know, of the decisions made by our own office in the past few years, so I've spent some time with the question of "oh yeah? What would YOU do then?" And here's what I think I'd do, to start. I think I'd spend a year traveling around my new territory, meeting YM's and finding out what is going on in parishes. I'd read a LOT of bulletins, websites, parish reports, and I'd attend a LOT of YM events, both parish and diocesan. I'd serve on the teams of diocesan activities, as retreat team member, as kitchen crew, as small group leader, as grunt-person. I'd be doing lots of setting up and cleaning up, and I'd attend so many meetings it would make the average person's head spin. I'd ask everyone a lot of questions about how things have gone, how things are going, and how things could/should go in the future. I'd have a lot of dinners, lunches, and coffees with a lot of pastors and YM Coordinators. And I'd do a lot of praying and faith sharing with diocesan staff.
And after all that, I'd get down to work, having identified the mission of the office, and getting people on board with working toward that mission. I love the job description for the Baltimore job- it is a great description, too, for the parish Coordinator of YM. It occurs to me that my description, up there, is similar to how I'd start at a parish YM position, too. Last week our staff discussed that we must not consider our congregation as a big white piece of paper to which we are bringing the color. We must give our people credit for the gifts, talents, and yearnings they bring to the table. The Archdiocese of Baltimore is already doing great work, what an amazing position to step into... their next Director is going to be very blessed to join that team.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Rest In Peace
Tonight after Mass we followed PJ's craving to Yoki, our favorite sushi restaurant. Oh my word the food there is so good. We took a table on the sidewalk, where the balmy weather was just perfect, with a beautiful breeze.
When our server came to the table, Scott asked for the owner, Tom. Tom is a parishioner, and leaves the restaurant every Sunday evening to come to our 5:00 Mass. Whenever we visit his restaurant, he comes by the table several times to check on us and chat with us. He has shared some of his faith story with us, and the ongoing theme in his stories has been, really, surrender and obedience to God's will. He is a prayerful and holy person, and joyful in a way that only a prayerful/holy person can be.
So, when Scott asked about him tonight we were shocked to see the waitress' tears- she told us that Tom had died- they had just been to his wake and his funeral is tomorrow morning. It was such a stunner. Tom was 26 years old and died of pneumonia- he had no health insurance and waited too long to get help for himself. A friend of his in the restaurant told Scott that when Tom was at his sickest, he told her that he was willing to go whenever God called him. His understanding that being a Christian means obedience to God's will was true to his heart until his last breath. I'd love to believe that I could do the same at 26 years of age, but I know I could not have. I'm thankful to have known Tom, and been witness to his example of holiness. RIP
When our server came to the table, Scott asked for the owner, Tom. Tom is a parishioner, and leaves the restaurant every Sunday evening to come to our 5:00 Mass. Whenever we visit his restaurant, he comes by the table several times to check on us and chat with us. He has shared some of his faith story with us, and the ongoing theme in his stories has been, really, surrender and obedience to God's will. He is a prayerful and holy person, and joyful in a way that only a prayerful/holy person can be.
So, when Scott asked about him tonight we were shocked to see the waitress' tears- she told us that Tom had died- they had just been to his wake and his funeral is tomorrow morning. It was such a stunner. Tom was 26 years old and died of pneumonia- he had no health insurance and waited too long to get help for himself. A friend of his in the restaurant told Scott that when Tom was at his sickest, he told her that he was willing to go whenever God called him. His understanding that being a Christian means obedience to God's will was true to his heart until his last breath. I'd love to believe that I could do the same at 26 years of age, but I know I could not have. I'm thankful to have known Tom, and been witness to his example of holiness. RIP
Thursday, July 09, 2009
Jealous
I'm beginning my third year as an Other-Than-Youth-Ministry-Coordinator- that's hard to believe. I love my current job and am not ready to leave it, I have no stirrings of wonder or urges to wander at all. But I sure do miss Youth Ministry.
This week Scott is at Catholic Heart Work Camp, and every night he calls me to tell me the best stories of the day. There are so many. CHWC is an excellent organization- they know what they're doing and offer a powerful combination of discipleship and social justice work with high-energy praise and worship and deep and meaningful faith development opportunities for their participants. This week Scott has experienced again that thing that makes a YM's job special: the honor of being able to witness the growth and deepening of faith in young people.
I think that the best YM's are at their best in retreat and camp settings; it's a chance to get away from the everyday with your kids, a chance to have the blessing of a significant amount of time with them. It's object-learning all day, and down-time where you have, literally, nothing else to do but hang out together. These are things YM's wish for all the time, and try to create at the parish, but rarely get to do. At home, ministry is often done on the fly, when you get the chance.
Every YM strives to be relational, and weekends and weeks like CHWC really give an opportunity to live that out.
So I'll admit it, I'm flat-out jealous of Scott this week and the other YM's that are there, or somewhere, away with their kids. I'm so happy for him and love to hear the stories and I know I'll be moved by the obvious differences in the faces of the kids from before they leave to their return home at the end of the week. I'm proud to be on the staff of a parish that cares enough about youth and about evangelization and service to support this kind of activity, too. But there's a green monster burning in my heart, jealous of a missed opportunity to be a part of that kind of ministry. I guess that's how I know that my calling to YM is still there- even while I'm on this side-road, I think it must be true that eventually I'll be back in that game- and there will be, I pray, many weekends and weeks like CHWC to come for me and my future kids.
This week Scott is at Catholic Heart Work Camp, and every night he calls me to tell me the best stories of the day. There are so many. CHWC is an excellent organization- they know what they're doing and offer a powerful combination of discipleship and social justice work with high-energy praise and worship and deep and meaningful faith development opportunities for their participants. This week Scott has experienced again that thing that makes a YM's job special: the honor of being able to witness the growth and deepening of faith in young people.
I think that the best YM's are at their best in retreat and camp settings; it's a chance to get away from the everyday with your kids, a chance to have the blessing of a significant amount of time with them. It's object-learning all day, and down-time where you have, literally, nothing else to do but hang out together. These are things YM's wish for all the time, and try to create at the parish, but rarely get to do. At home, ministry is often done on the fly, when you get the chance.
Every YM strives to be relational, and weekends and weeks like CHWC really give an opportunity to live that out.
So I'll admit it, I'm flat-out jealous of Scott this week and the other YM's that are there, or somewhere, away with their kids. I'm so happy for him and love to hear the stories and I know I'll be moved by the obvious differences in the faces of the kids from before they leave to their return home at the end of the week. I'm proud to be on the staff of a parish that cares enough about youth and about evangelization and service to support this kind of activity, too. But there's a green monster burning in my heart, jealous of a missed opportunity to be a part of that kind of ministry. I guess that's how I know that my calling to YM is still there- even while I'm on this side-road, I think it must be true that eventually I'll be back in that game- and there will be, I pray, many weekends and weeks like CHWC to come for me and my future kids.
Saturday, July 04, 2009
Stressville, USA
Tomorrow I go back to work after a rainy, but restful, vacation. I've got some tiny knots of apprehension, as it's a busy day, with lots to do... but, I remind myself of how much I truly love what I do, and start to feel some excitement about being back in that place, surrounded by great people.
I have not been living the hermit's life though, despite the rain- Thursday I went to the grocery store. I was listening to a podcast of This American Life called "signs of a recession" and the first story they told was about the statistical rise in broken teeth during a recession. My dentist had told me just last week that he was seeing a lot more grinders and stress fractures... and this week when I went to the drug store to buy a night-guard-thing for my own grinding problem, I was surprised to find that there were very few left!
I certainly saw a rise in aggression and stress at the grocery store- it was the Thurs. before the 4th, and it was POURING, and the store was full of people. I noticed that when the store is full, with way too many people, customers counter-productively become MORE aggressive and LESS cooperative.
Today on the road I was flipped off by two different people, and saw another person flip off another driver. People are cutting each other off and waving nasty hand gestures, and scowling. I can feel the stress in the world. I see people become more internally-focused, at a time when we need each other more and more. I hope we figure this out, as a civilization. I wonder how or if things can get better if we are unwilling to cooperate with each other on little things like getting down a grocery store aisle or merging onto a highway ramp.
This week my prayers will be for frustrated people, and the young people and adults who are giving a week to helping each other and growing closer to God.
I have not been living the hermit's life though, despite the rain- Thursday I went to the grocery store. I was listening to a podcast of This American Life called "signs of a recession" and the first story they told was about the statistical rise in broken teeth during a recession. My dentist had told me just last week that he was seeing a lot more grinders and stress fractures... and this week when I went to the drug store to buy a night-guard-thing for my own grinding problem, I was surprised to find that there were very few left!
I certainly saw a rise in aggression and stress at the grocery store- it was the Thurs. before the 4th, and it was POURING, and the store was full of people. I noticed that when the store is full, with way too many people, customers counter-productively become MORE aggressive and LESS cooperative.
Today on the road I was flipped off by two different people, and saw another person flip off another driver. People are cutting each other off and waving nasty hand gestures, and scowling. I can feel the stress in the world. I see people become more internally-focused, at a time when we need each other more and more. I hope we figure this out, as a civilization. I wonder how or if things can get better if we are unwilling to cooperate with each other on little things like getting down a grocery store aisle or merging onto a highway ramp.
This week my prayers will be for frustrated people, and the young people and adults who are giving a week to helping each other and growing closer to God.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Well it's been a rainy week here in Lake Woebegone...
I'm mid-vacation and having an awfully nice time, despite the near-constant rain. I'm fighting the urges that everyone on Facebook is expressing, mourning the Summer and wishing it would just go away for crying out loud. I'm trying to take it all as a cosmic hint from the universe that I should just relax already.
We went on our annual camping trip and it was near-perfect, but for the lack of a few important people who would have been fun to have there, and who would have loved it. One of my favorite parts of this camping trip is the tinkering with the recipe of people that come each year. I used to be nervous about mixing people from different walks of my life, but learned from my friends Peter and John that it can be fun and a bit of an adventure. Visiting them was rarely a solo time, and I never knew who else would be there, and I always felt somehow proud that they'd allow me to mix with their other, cooler or smarter or way more talented friends.
Anyway, this year's trip brought 4 newbies, and it was fun to mix with them and watch them mix, and the ultimate-est fun-est to bring them to Tanglewood for A Prairie Home Companion. There is so much special about this trip that each year I feel so lucky to be there, and so proud to share it, as if I'm in a very special and kind of secret club into which I have the privilege of inviting new members.
Our week of vacation is capped at the other end with a 3rd of July cookout at our house, and then a 4th that's gloriously free of plans. They say the sun is due to come out again the day I head back in to work, naturally. Ah well, it's been a good vacation, so far, anyway.
We went on our annual camping trip and it was near-perfect, but for the lack of a few important people who would have been fun to have there, and who would have loved it. One of my favorite parts of this camping trip is the tinkering with the recipe of people that come each year. I used to be nervous about mixing people from different walks of my life, but learned from my friends Peter and John that it can be fun and a bit of an adventure. Visiting them was rarely a solo time, and I never knew who else would be there, and I always felt somehow proud that they'd allow me to mix with their other, cooler or smarter or way more talented friends.
Anyway, this year's trip brought 4 newbies, and it was fun to mix with them and watch them mix, and the ultimate-est fun-est to bring them to Tanglewood for A Prairie Home Companion. There is so much special about this trip that each year I feel so lucky to be there, and so proud to share it, as if I'm in a very special and kind of secret club into which I have the privilege of inviting new members.
Our week of vacation is capped at the other end with a 3rd of July cookout at our house, and then a 4th that's gloriously free of plans. They say the sun is due to come out again the day I head back in to work, naturally. Ah well, it's been a good vacation, so far, anyway.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Simple Woman's Daybook
FOR TODAY 06/22/09...Outside My Window... It is just RAINING. It's been raining, or misting, or pouring, or monsooning, for many many days now. The lawn is lush and green, or at least it looks like it from in here.
I am thinking... about our annual camping trip- out to western MA, where we'll gather and camp and then pilgrimage to Tanglewood to see our friend Garrison Keillor for A Prairie Home companion. There's much to do, lots of packing and inventory and then there are the cooking possibilities!! I'm thinking about rhubarb-blueberry pocket pies... How will I get it all done?
I am thankful for... for a mildly encouraging weather report. Thankful for my smaller body, of late, and the fun old clothes I get to wear again, and for the chance to take this trip every year.
From the kitchen... tonight, a lovely low-carb, hi-fiber meal, cooked without any trace of bacon grease.
I am wearing... winter clothes, practically... sweatshirt, new yoga pants... SOCKS. Where is Summer???
I am creating... Probably, those pocket pies! How can I help myself?
I am going... to dinner tomorrow night with friends, to breakfast Wed. with another friend, and then dinner with old friends Wed. night. I love weeks like this!
I am reading... not much! I did do my usual Summer reading shopping, and Mary Roach hasn't put out a new book, so I'm hoping to scrounge some books from my sister, and who knows what then?
I am hoping... beyond hope that the weather will clear up.
I am hearing... The Closer on tv. This is a GREAT show. Deputy Chief Johnson rocks.
Around the house... we have been cleaning and clearing spots for packing and stacking up gear for the trip.
One of my favorite things... is the lawn at Tanglewood. It's just perfect. And though you can't actually see the show from where we sit, we are surrounded by people lounging at picnic tables, sipping wine, and the grass is so pristine that you can walk around without ever stepping on a stone or twig. After the show, we all go into the shed, and do a big singalong that always makes me teary just for the sheer joy of it.
A Few Plans For The Rest Of The Week: Packing, friends, cooking, camping, laughing, sunning, swimming, napping, reading, noshing, loving, relaxing, playing.
Here is picture thought I am sharing... it's the "view" from our "seats" at Tanglewood.
Friday, June 19, 2009
outlook: rain
We're t-minus one week on the big yearly camping trip. Here's the week's forecast as it was this morning on almanac.com:
Now, on second inspection, it looks like this:
So, THAT'S not really an upgrade.
On our wedding day, it rained like it's been raining around here this weekend. Monsoon-ish. It rained the kind of rain where you look out the window and think to yourself "it is IMPOSSIBLE for rain to come down THIS HARD for THIS LONG!!!"
As for this weekend, all I want to do is lounge, and nap- not a lot of energy going on around here, and I don't mind a weekend like that every once in a while, but I do hope and pray it'll clear up for Thursday and next weekend. We've been rained on at Tanglewood, and it's SO not as fun as when it's nice out. I don't mind rainy camping but I surely prefer dry camping. Before our wedding everyone told us to hang our rosary beads out our windows, or put religious statues in the windows. I ended up with one really wet rosary. Rain rain go away already!!!
Now, on second inspection, it looks like this:
So, THAT'S not really an upgrade.
On our wedding day, it rained like it's been raining around here this weekend. Monsoon-ish. It rained the kind of rain where you look out the window and think to yourself "it is IMPOSSIBLE for rain to come down THIS HARD for THIS LONG!!!"
As for this weekend, all I want to do is lounge, and nap- not a lot of energy going on around here, and I don't mind a weekend like that every once in a while, but I do hope and pray it'll clear up for Thursday and next weekend. We've been rained on at Tanglewood, and it's SO not as fun as when it's nice out. I don't mind rainy camping but I surely prefer dry camping. Before our wedding everyone told us to hang our rosary beads out our windows, or put religious statues in the windows. I ended up with one really wet rosary. Rain rain go away already!!!
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
New Thinking
I've been thinking about this upcoming year at the parish, and we're doing faith formation planning, and I've come to this resolution that I think we should make, as a staff.
I think we should agree to assume the best about our parishioners. I think we should remove from our conversations that sound anything like this: "oh, they'll never come for that." "They will be confused by that." "The people don't want to work that hard." "That is too much to ask." "They will resent us for pushing too hard (or asking too much)."
I think the truth is closer to this: people in our parishes are seeking for something. They want to learn more about their faith. They want to grow closer to God. They want to help, and they appreciate being needed.
I believe that thinking this way about our people can make a huge difference in how we treat them, and that will make a difference in their response.
But hey, it's just a theory... we'll have to try it to know if it works...
I think we should agree to assume the best about our parishioners. I think we should remove from our conversations that sound anything like this: "oh, they'll never come for that." "They will be confused by that." "The people don't want to work that hard." "That is too much to ask." "They will resent us for pushing too hard (or asking too much)."
I think the truth is closer to this: people in our parishes are seeking for something. They want to learn more about their faith. They want to grow closer to God. They want to help, and they appreciate being needed.
I believe that thinking this way about our people can make a huge difference in how we treat them, and that will make a difference in their response.
But hey, it's just a theory... we'll have to try it to know if it works...
Saturday, June 13, 2009
I've got the beat
Have I ever mentioned that I have music stuck in my head all the time? Like, always-- constantly. Whenever I tell someone this, they inevitably ask me "oh yeeeeahhh? What song is in your head RIGHT NOW then?" So, in case that's what you're wondering, right now it is the obnoxious theme song to Radio Boston, which I just hate. (It's really only two notes, played on and on.) This is an example of songs that I really try to avoid, because it's one thing to have a good song stuck in here, and quite another to have an annoying one. The only cure I've found to having a song stuck is to listen to another song. Many times in the car I've asked Scott to turn the radio on so I can replace whatever is stuck in there (here).
Usually it is not a whole song but some fraction of one, often just one phrase, so things like radio jingles and tv ads fit that bill perfectly- even little bits of music like a doorbell ringing will lodge themselves in until I find something better (this part is tough to explain to people who ask me what is in my head RIGHT NOW because the answer sometimes is "doooo-doo!".
I heard a story on Radio Lab that in a roundabout way made connections between this state and epilepsy, believe it or not- they solicited techniques from their rea
ders for making songs go away and one that I've played with is to just stop the song on one note and let that one note go on and on and on until it all goes away. This doesn't really work for me, but it does give my brain a bit of a break.
It is not, as you might be wondering, agonizing. Right now I have the "Magic 106.7" song-let in my head, because I have been poking at our radio's buttons trying to find a song that I won't mind having on an endless loop in here- which reminds me, thank GOD for satellite radio- no commercial jingles at ALL and there's always a good song on somewhere. Regular radio is all jingles and not much music. I've had songs in my head since I was a very little girl- I remember being outside the Cone school and realizing that I'd had something stuck in for a long time- this might have been my first realization of it.
The only time it's been a problem has been in high-stress points of my life, like when I started at my former parish (should have been a sign of the trouble to come!). I had trouble sleeping because I could NOT get a particular Mariah Carey song out of my head. I don't remember what song, and no, I am not a Mariah fan- it just came in my head at the wrong time and refused to leave. I had nasty fever-like dreams for days where I was trying to get that music to stop or was being forced to listen to it or something like that. My stress really made that song stick and stick hard. I work hard not to get that stressed now.
So, here's to a musical life. Maybe I'll put it to work for me...
Usually it is not a whole song but some fraction of one, often just one phrase, so things like radio jingles and tv ads fit that bill perfectly- even little bits of music like a doorbell ringing will lodge themselves in until I find something better (this part is tough to explain to people who ask me what is in my head RIGHT NOW because the answer sometimes is "doooo-doo!".
I heard a story on Radio Lab that in a roundabout way made connections between this state and epilepsy, believe it or not- they solicited techniques from their rea
ders for making songs go away and one that I've played with is to just stop the song on one note and let that one note go on and on and on until it all goes away. This doesn't really work for me, but it does give my brain a bit of a break.It is not, as you might be wondering, agonizing. Right now I have the "Magic 106.7" song-let in my head, because I have been poking at our radio's buttons trying to find a song that I won't mind having on an endless loop in here- which reminds me, thank GOD for satellite radio- no commercial jingles at ALL and there's always a good song on somewhere. Regular radio is all jingles and not much music. I've had songs in my head since I was a very little girl- I remember being outside the Cone school and realizing that I'd had something stuck in for a long time- this might have been my first realization of it.
The only time it's been a problem has been in high-stress points of my life, like when I started at my former parish (should have been a sign of the trouble to come!). I had trouble sleeping because I could NOT get a particular Mariah Carey song out of my head. I don't remember what song, and no, I am not a Mariah fan- it just came in my head at the wrong time and refused to leave. I had nasty fever-like dreams for days where I was trying to get that music to stop or was being forced to listen to it or something like that. My stress really made that song stick and stick hard. I work hard not to get that stressed now.
So, here's to a musical life. Maybe I'll put it to work for me...
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
Oh yeah, I've got it.
PMS that is. Wanna know how I know I have PMS? Because, among other symptoms, I finally called to schedule a hair appointment for myself and the person who answered the phone at the salon told me that my hairdresser has left. Months ago, she left. Since then I have felt wrecked! I'm so bummed out that my hairdresser just up and left me behind, the one who knows what stupid rods to use for my stupid perm. And I'm at a loss- now to whom shall I go? I love Laura's perms but I don't want to go to Waltham for mine. I know people who know people who ARE hairdressers, but you know, that's tricky! Once you go to someone you know, you can NEVER LEAVE. You'll run into them at someone's birthday party and they'll look at your hair and know how long it's been since you visited their shop and they'll know.
Anyway, my crazy reaction to this news and the way it's making my day a gloom-fest, that's how I know I have PMS. Oh, and the simultaneous urges I have a) to assert myself and get my damned point across and B) to throw my hands in the air, exasperated, and say "you know what? Whatever."
Also I have a low-grade fever that Motrin is not touching.
I don't complain about cramps and headaches, I accept them as penance for not wanting to bear children. But PMS-nastiness, well, that's just a punishment on everyone. Sorry, everyone. But then again, you know what? Whatever.
Anyway, my crazy reaction to this news and the way it's making my day a gloom-fest, that's how I know I have PMS. Oh, and the simultaneous urges I have a) to assert myself and get my damned point across and B) to throw my hands in the air, exasperated, and say "you know what? Whatever."
Also I have a low-grade fever that Motrin is not touching.
I don't complain about cramps and headaches, I accept them as penance for not wanting to bear children. But PMS-nastiness, well, that's just a punishment on everyone. Sorry, everyone. But then again, you know what? Whatever.
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
substance abuser
Last night we went out for a big fancy dinner to celebrate our 8th anniversary (we had a big gift certificate!). I threw all caution to the wind and went ca-ray-zee. No, not drinking-crazy...
I have been eating low carb since Ash Wednesday, or thereabouts, and have really liked it (see the bacon-flavored entries here on this blog). But every once in a while I do go a little carb-a-palooza. Last night was an extreme one. I had risotto (oh it was soooo good) and BREAD! White bread! I ate all the croutons in my caesar salad, and then... I had dessert. Creme Brulee. Oh God.
It was all wonderful, but it caused a serious shock to my system! When we got home, I was so sleepy I felt like I'd been drugged. I fell asleep on the couch by 9:30 and then finally dragged myself to bed. I could not believe how badly I was affected by that food. It made quite a difference in how I was feeling.
So, now I know even better how good I feel when I limit carbohydrates- after a meal like that I feel like I need some detox and was happy to get back to my now-normal eating habits. Somebody pass me the bacon!
I have been eating low carb since Ash Wednesday, or thereabouts, and have really liked it (see the bacon-flavored entries here on this blog). But every once in a while I do go a little carb-a-palooza. Last night was an extreme one. I had risotto (oh it was soooo good) and BREAD! White bread! I ate all the croutons in my caesar salad, and then... I had dessert. Creme Brulee. Oh God.
It was all wonderful, but it caused a serious shock to my system! When we got home, I was so sleepy I felt like I'd been drugged. I fell asleep on the couch by 9:30 and then finally dragged myself to bed. I could not believe how badly I was affected by that food. It made quite a difference in how I was feeling.
So, now I know even better how good I feel when I limit carbohydrates- after a meal like that I feel like I need some detox and was happy to get back to my now-normal eating habits. Somebody pass me the bacon!
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Tortoise and Hare
The other day after I had finished my first glass of iced coffee, I was making breakfast for Scott, and he asked if I wanted some more. I said "sure, I'll have some." He filled my glass to the brim. To Scott, "some" can very easily mean "all." It got me thinking about the two of us, and how different we are in some ways.
Scott is impetuous. He gets an idea in his head and just goes ahead and starts. I am more inclined to wait and let things develop, make sure things are set, get things ready. He just goes. When I need a new car (or anything new, really) I do research, comparison shop, check the finances, read customer reviews... he gets to shopping. When I get in a pool, it is an inch at a time. He dives.
Well, you get the picture.
Over the years (8 to be exact, this Tuesday) we have learned a lot from each other. He has learned how to slow himself down, and doesn't spend like he used to. On the other hand, I have learned to be a bit more free. It's only in the last year that I realized that I could indeed buy two cartons of milk, or two dozen eggs, or whatever, rather than buying one, using it up, and then going to the store for more. I don't know why it feels so decadent to me to buy two cartons of milk, but there you go.
We are indeed good for each other. He can get me up and moving and I can slow him down. The other day he said to me "we are a good team." He's right.
Scott is impetuous. He gets an idea in his head and just goes ahead and starts. I am more inclined to wait and let things develop, make sure things are set, get things ready. He just goes. When I need a new car (or anything new, really) I do research, comparison shop, check the finances, read customer reviews... he gets to shopping. When I get in a pool, it is an inch at a time. He dives.
Well, you get the picture.
Over the years (8 to be exact, this Tuesday) we have learned a lot from each other. He has learned how to slow himself down, and doesn't spend like he used to. On the other hand, I have learned to be a bit more free. It's only in the last year that I realized that I could indeed buy two cartons of milk, or two dozen eggs, or whatever, rather than buying one, using it up, and then going to the store for more. I don't know why it feels so decadent to me to buy two cartons of milk, but there you go.
We are indeed good for each other. He can get me up and moving and I can slow him down. The other day he said to me "we are a good team." He's right.
Monday, May 25, 2009
A Moment of Silence, please!!
Today as we tooled around the North Shore on a daytrip celebrating Memorial Day, we were listening to the Red Sox game on the radio. At 3:00 they announced that they would have a moment of silence for our veterans, and then immediately started playing a song. That inspired us to write our own song. Here are the lyrics, you'll have to insert your own tune:
This is a song about a moment of silence, a moment of silence, a moment of silence!
A moment of silence is what we'd be having, if we weren't singing this song!
I think we have come up with something truly moving that will improve all moments of silence from now and on through history. Everybody sing!
This is a song about a moment of silence, a moment of silence, a moment of silence!
A moment of silence is what we'd be having, if we weren't singing this song!
I think we have come up with something truly moving that will improve all moments of silence from now and on through history. Everybody sing!
Saturday, May 23, 2009
I am Catholic.
I grew up in southern-central Maine, the youngest of 5 children in a solidly Catholic family. We went to Mass every Sunday (I tell people now that we could only miss Mass if we were vomiting or bleeding, and could produce evidence of such) and Holy Day, went to the parish suppers, belonged to the church's credit union, volunteered for the Christmas fair, and of course attended CCD and then Youth Group. I remember not knowing what religion most of my friends were, unless they attended my church, or unless they were Baptist, because the Baptist ones were always talking about being Christians.
While we were a devotional family, doing our Advent wreath every Saturday night before Christmas and eschewing meat on Fridays of Lent, I would say we weren't a particularly spiritual family. Our family prayer life was basically the recitation of Grace before dinner, and that was said at top-speed- I remember realizing that there were in fact actual words to that prayer- up until then it had been sort of a blur of syllables, like the ellemenopy section in the alphabet. But never did I hear anyone offer to pray for another, for instance. I remember one night my Grandmother was visiting, sleeping in the other bed in my room, and in the dark I told her I couldn't sleep. She said "why don't you say your Rosary?" and was horrified to learn that I didn't know how. Of all the many sets of Rosary beads I have now, the one given me by my Grandmother, allegedly blessed by a pope, is the one that I most treasure.
It was, then, not through my family directly but because we Talbots were habitual church-goers that I found my real faith. As teenagers, we were invited to attend retreats, and I followed my siblings first to a 9/10 grade retreat called Gift, then to a 11/12th grade retreat called Search. I think God opened my heart through Gift and then filled it to overflowing at Search. At Gift, I learned that I have gifts and that God loves me. At Search, I learned that God has a plan for me, and it was here and through other transformational Catholic activities that I received what I was sure was a calling from God, to Youth Ministry.
Now I have been in professional ministry in the Catholic Church for 14 years, and never would have guessed when I started that I would be where I am now, working primarily with adults and studying for a Master's Degree in Religious Education. The Church, the local Church, has changed so much, and I have grown with it and because of it- often painfully.
I was so stunned at the sex-abuse scandal. I remember at a Youth Ministers' meeting just after it had started in earnest, praying against the persecutors who were accusing the Church of horrible things. Now I know that they weren't so much persecutors as liberators. I remember pulling my car over to the side of the road more than once when hearing the news was more than I could bear and drive safely at the same time. I remember reading reports in the paper, and getting phone calls, about priests I knew. I remember the very real fear in not knowing who to trust, who to believe. It was a time when I realized that anyone could use the awesome power of fear- any call to any rectory with any accusation (no confirming evidence was necessary) could have a priest removed from his parish overnight, and exposed in the daily papers the next day.
It was a frightening time for me, who had devoted my whole life to serving the young of a Church which had spent many years abusing them. Now, my faith and my calling were in question. Suddenly teachings that I had disagreed with out-of-hand, teachings that I had overlooked as simply wrong, nonsense- teachings that I had avoided passing on, even in my ministry where I was paid to do so, became more important to really look at. I wondered if my credibility as a minister of God was in question if I continued to work for this Church, so full of evil.
At one point, I visited the Episcopalian Priest in town, who acknowledged my crisis of faith and gave me some guidance. A few days later, my lawn was struck my lightning. I was away from home at the time, so I didn't consider it altogether a direct message from God, but still... I think I'd probably be a pretty great pastor, and I think the Church would probably be improved by female leaders- at the same time I know that the local Church runs greatly on the backs and hands and feet of women, in partnership (or in direct opposition to) male leaders. It doesn't feel like a calling I've been given, at least not now. I am in a good place, a place where my gifts and talents are being used to glorify God, right now. I haven't always been.
My faith has been saved over and over again. At one point I heard a speaker at a Youth Ministry conference speak about those who are called to be Prophets. It was like hearing a diagnosis of a long-suffered, unnamed disease. He said that prophets can't help but be prophets- but that they should remember that historically, prophets are ultimately either listened to, or killed. I began to understand why I seemed constantly to be butting heads with church leaders who refused to focus on the Mission, who cared more about their own glorification than the glory of God, who worried more about their financial audits than the care of the poor, the young, the old, the needy in their parishes.
Now I work at a parish that is everything I've dreamed of- the pastor is intelligent, engaged, excited and happy to be a priest. He says and believes words like "conversion," "evangelization," and "discipleship." He reads articles and books about ministry, he knows his theology, he cares about people, he loves being Catholic, he does not live in fear of the Hierarchy, even as he respects it. These, I am sure, sound like no-brainer qualifications for a pastor, but in fact they are quite rare.
The staff at this parish is engaged, knows the people of the Church, is constantly trying to grow in personal faith and in professionalism. We have fun together, we respect each other. We laugh a lot. The people here are gracious and faith-filled. They are friendly and welcoming. They want to know more. They show up. They praise and give feedback all the time. It is a holy place, and I know, a spiritual retreat that God has sent me to, in order to keep me sane and to keep me Catholic. So far, so good- but I know this can't, being the Catholic Church, last forever. Someday I will be sent back out into battle. I am trying to Be Here Now.
My husband has the most pure and child-like (but not childish) faith of anyone I've ever known. He quiets my panicked fears with surety. He digs in to discuss our doubts (he has them too), he prays for me, he prays grace conspicuously at restaurant tables, he reminded me that God was indeed here with us, during our lowest points. Our marriage is truly a spiritual union, and a Catholic one at that.
I remember going to Rome for World Youth Day in 2000. I marveled at the architecture, the Catholicism pulsing through the air, the bells and smells, all so exotic but so personal and familiar to me. I remember thinking "ahhh- so here is my ethnicity!" I grew up with very little palpable connection to what I call "all the white peoples of the world" with whom I share ancestors. No traditional ethnic foods, songs, dress for me. But in Rome I found my true ancestry. I am Catholic.
While we were a devotional family, doing our Advent wreath every Saturday night before Christmas and eschewing meat on Fridays of Lent, I would say we weren't a particularly spiritual family. Our family prayer life was basically the recitation of Grace before dinner, and that was said at top-speed- I remember realizing that there were in fact actual words to that prayer- up until then it had been sort of a blur of syllables, like the ellemenopy section in the alphabet. But never did I hear anyone offer to pray for another, for instance. I remember one night my Grandmother was visiting, sleeping in the other bed in my room, and in the dark I told her I couldn't sleep. She said "why don't you say your Rosary?" and was horrified to learn that I didn't know how. Of all the many sets of Rosary beads I have now, the one given me by my Grandmother, allegedly blessed by a pope, is the one that I most treasure.
It was, then, not through my family directly but because we Talbots were habitual church-goers that I found my real faith. As teenagers, we were invited to attend retreats, and I followed my siblings first to a 9/10 grade retreat called Gift, then to a 11/12th grade retreat called Search. I think God opened my heart through Gift and then filled it to overflowing at Search. At Gift, I learned that I have gifts and that God loves me. At Search, I learned that God has a plan for me, and it was here and through other transformational Catholic activities that I received what I was sure was a calling from God, to Youth Ministry.
Now I have been in professional ministry in the Catholic Church for 14 years, and never would have guessed when I started that I would be where I am now, working primarily with adults and studying for a Master's Degree in Religious Education. The Church, the local Church, has changed so much, and I have grown with it and because of it- often painfully.
I was so stunned at the sex-abuse scandal. I remember at a Youth Ministers' meeting just after it had started in earnest, praying against the persecutors who were accusing the Church of horrible things. Now I know that they weren't so much persecutors as liberators. I remember pulling my car over to the side of the road more than once when hearing the news was more than I could bear and drive safely at the same time. I remember reading reports in the paper, and getting phone calls, about priests I knew. I remember the very real fear in not knowing who to trust, who to believe. It was a time when I realized that anyone could use the awesome power of fear- any call to any rectory with any accusation (no confirming evidence was necessary) could have a priest removed from his parish overnight, and exposed in the daily papers the next day.
It was a frightening time for me, who had devoted my whole life to serving the young of a Church which had spent many years abusing them. Now, my faith and my calling were in question. Suddenly teachings that I had disagreed with out-of-hand, teachings that I had overlooked as simply wrong, nonsense- teachings that I had avoided passing on, even in my ministry where I was paid to do so, became more important to really look at. I wondered if my credibility as a minister of God was in question if I continued to work for this Church, so full of evil.
At one point, I visited the Episcopalian Priest in town, who acknowledged my crisis of faith and gave me some guidance. A few days later, my lawn was struck my lightning. I was away from home at the time, so I didn't consider it altogether a direct message from God, but still... I think I'd probably be a pretty great pastor, and I think the Church would probably be improved by female leaders- at the same time I know that the local Church runs greatly on the backs and hands and feet of women, in partnership (or in direct opposition to) male leaders. It doesn't feel like a calling I've been given, at least not now. I am in a good place, a place where my gifts and talents are being used to glorify God, right now. I haven't always been.
My faith has been saved over and over again. At one point I heard a speaker at a Youth Ministry conference speak about those who are called to be Prophets. It was like hearing a diagnosis of a long-suffered, unnamed disease. He said that prophets can't help but be prophets- but that they should remember that historically, prophets are ultimately either listened to, or killed. I began to understand why I seemed constantly to be butting heads with church leaders who refused to focus on the Mission, who cared more about their own glorification than the glory of God, who worried more about their financial audits than the care of the poor, the young, the old, the needy in their parishes.
Now I work at a parish that is everything I've dreamed of- the pastor is intelligent, engaged, excited and happy to be a priest. He says and believes words like "conversion," "evangelization," and "discipleship." He reads articles and books about ministry, he knows his theology, he cares about people, he loves being Catholic, he does not live in fear of the Hierarchy, even as he respects it. These, I am sure, sound like no-brainer qualifications for a pastor, but in fact they are quite rare.
The staff at this parish is engaged, knows the people of the Church, is constantly trying to grow in personal faith and in professionalism. We have fun together, we respect each other. We laugh a lot. The people here are gracious and faith-filled. They are friendly and welcoming. They want to know more. They show up. They praise and give feedback all the time. It is a holy place, and I know, a spiritual retreat that God has sent me to, in order to keep me sane and to keep me Catholic. So far, so good- but I know this can't, being the Catholic Church, last forever. Someday I will be sent back out into battle. I am trying to Be Here Now.
My husband has the most pure and child-like (but not childish) faith of anyone I've ever known. He quiets my panicked fears with surety. He digs in to discuss our doubts (he has them too), he prays for me, he prays grace conspicuously at restaurant tables, he reminded me that God was indeed here with us, during our lowest points. Our marriage is truly a spiritual union, and a Catholic one at that.
I remember going to Rome for World Youth Day in 2000. I marveled at the architecture, the Catholicism pulsing through the air, the bells and smells, all so exotic but so personal and familiar to me. I remember thinking "ahhh- so here is my ethnicity!" I grew up with very little palpable connection to what I call "all the white peoples of the world" with whom I share ancestors. No traditional ethnic foods, songs, dress for me. But in Rome I found my true ancestry. I am Catholic.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Peace be with you. There, I said it.
Today was the day of prayer for religious-ed types at a beautiful convent/nursing home in Ipswich, sponsored by the Archdiocese. Last year's was great, with a wonderful speaker who spoke to us like the professional professionals that we are. Oh and it was at Gonzaga retreat house in Gloucester, overlooking a rocky ocean shore. Ahhh.
This year's was, as I said, at a lovely convent/nursing home, with lush green lawns and ticks, we were warned, and turkeys that would attack us, I guess. I dunno. The speaker, too, was lovely, but not life-altering. Too bad, really.
ANYWAY, the point of my story is that our staff was there, our wonderful wonderful staff, and a bunch of other people. My former staff was there from my former parish, including so many great and wonderful people who had made my time there good. But also, my replacement was there, and the person who had been my supervisor... I felt my blood pressure spike a bit when she walked in, old resentments and un-expressed tongue lashings fresh again. It was, like I've written before here, like being at an ex-boyfriend's family wedding. SO good to see some people, so tense seeing that ex.
But then we went to Mass, and I ended up next to her. I knew what was coming.
I read (and have taught, so I hope it's true) that the sign of peace at Mass is really about making peace before Communion. It's to remind us of this scripture, and so, when we turn and shake hands or meet eyes with the people around us, we're supposed to be making sure we've forgiven and have been forgiven by the other members of our faith community.
And there I was, next to the woman who really did not help me in my time of need- who, I felt, had betrayed me, who I just really don't like, darnit. I've prayed about it, worked on it, let it go and caught it back again.
I pulled myself together and did a quick examination of conscience, and worked myself up to a stage of forgiveness that would allow me to shake hands with her, look her in the eye and wish her peace. Because, you know, I do wish her peace. I think one reason she was was so disappointing to me as a supervisor and a co-worker is related to her having a real lack of courage, and that must be a pretty un-peaceful way to be. Think that's good enough for Communion?
This year's was, as I said, at a lovely convent/nursing home, with lush green lawns and ticks, we were warned, and turkeys that would attack us, I guess. I dunno. The speaker, too, was lovely, but not life-altering. Too bad, really.
ANYWAY, the point of my story is that our staff was there, our wonderful wonderful staff, and a bunch of other people. My former staff was there from my former parish, including so many great and wonderful people who had made my time there good. But also, my replacement was there, and the person who had been my supervisor... I felt my blood pressure spike a bit when she walked in, old resentments and un-expressed tongue lashings fresh again. It was, like I've written before here, like being at an ex-boyfriend's family wedding. SO good to see some people, so tense seeing that ex.
But then we went to Mass, and I ended up next to her. I knew what was coming.
I read (and have taught, so I hope it's true) that the sign of peace at Mass is really about making peace before Communion. It's to remind us of this scripture, and so, when we turn and shake hands or meet eyes with the people around us, we're supposed to be making sure we've forgiven and have been forgiven by the other members of our faith community.
And there I was, next to the woman who really did not help me in my time of need- who, I felt, had betrayed me, who I just really don't like, darnit. I've prayed about it, worked on it, let it go and caught it back again.
I pulled myself together and did a quick examination of conscience, and worked myself up to a stage of forgiveness that would allow me to shake hands with her, look her in the eye and wish her peace. Because, you know, I do wish her peace. I think one reason she was was so disappointing to me as a supervisor and a co-worker is related to her having a real lack of courage, and that must be a pretty un-peaceful way to be. Think that's good enough for Communion?
Saturday, May 16, 2009
KITTY HEAD!!!
I know, I know, I go from righteous indignation to cat-ridiculousness. Such is the blog.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Anyone else have a problem with this?
Check it out, give it a listen, and then comment- D. Scott Miller's planning to forward our thoughts on to the Catholic Channel. Hey, maybe you think it's a riot, I don't know- but let your opinions be heard!
http://www.dscottmiller.com/2009/05/14/mr-youth-minister-guy
http://www.dscottmiller.com/2009/05/14/mr-youth-minister-guy
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Shepherd Sunday thoughts, only a few weeks late...
I've heard a lot of different versions of Good Shepherd Sunday homilies, and most of them talk about how stupid sheep are (not the best place to start when you're preaching TO the sheep! Still, it's true, my shepherd-friend will concur, I believe. Sandi's dad used to say something like "the IQ of one sheep is 10. The combined IQ of 10 sheep is 5." This I have found also to be applicable to middle school boys. But I digress).
But if I were going to do a homily on Shepherd Sunday, I would tell this story:
I grew up in Maine, yes, and did have a dear friend in high school who raised and showed sheep. I was lucky to be invited to travel and help her with some shows, and had a blast doing it. We wore tan pants (so as to make the sheep look whiter) and blucher mocs (so as to easily scrape the poop off the smooth soles) and tickled the sheep's bellies (so as to make them stand up straighter (but not too much, or they'd hunch, just like we would with too much tickling). I learned a lot.
One thing I learned was a great model of community and youth ministry. We were at the Big E fairgrounds in Springfield MA, and between our turns we watched the Border Cheviots compete. I remember the name because Sandi called them "Border Idiots." They are a bouncy breed, and if you want to know what the word "gambol" means, you can see it demonstrated by a Cheviot.
At one point, one of the Cheviots got loose from its handler. Here is where I witnessed this beautiful image. As the sheep bounced around the pen, impossible to catch, I saw people rise from their seats all around the ring. People from all sides stood slowly, and began to step toward the bouncing sheep. Soon I could see that they were forming a ring around the bouncy devil, slowly closing in on her. Finally the circle closed in around the sheep and someone got ahold of her and returned her to her rightful spot. Satisfied, everyone else went back to their seats for the rest of the festivities.
I have come to see that this was a great example for a church community. When that sheep was bouncing around, out of control, everyone was ready to help- the owner of the sheep didn't even have to ask, and no one demanded thanks. Everyone cared enough to do their part. Together, they did what one person, or a few people, could never do. And that circle of concern... well, that seems, still, so beautiful to me. Surrounding one in need with a circle of care is just what we should be doing for each other- and especially, I think, for the youngest of us, so often bounding and bouncing out of control. I dream of a church that responds this way.
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
Do-Over
A week ago Saturday, my sisters came by to visit me. They pulled in the driveway in the early afternoon, and we spent some time together on the porch. It was a lovely day but I was feeling kinda groggy with a cold and was all wacky on cold medicine at the time... before long, we had to get ready for work and they headed toward home. It was about that time that I realized they'd come to SEE ME. For some reason I had thought they were out on a day trip and were swinging by because they were in the neighborhood- but they had really come down to see me, and Scott! I felt kind of embarrassed- I was grubby and not very effervescent, had no food to serve, and we were even out of toilet paper, for crying out loud!
So I invited them back down this past Saturday for a do-over. They graciously claimed to have been on cold medicine the week before as well, and brought some toilet paper just in case. We had a great dinner, soaked up some sun, laughed a lot, and ended the night around the fire pit. It was a really nice night, with just a bit of a nip, a great red sox game on the radio, good laughs, and no mosquitoes. Welcome, Summer (or at least Spring!) and here's to many many more nights by the fire, on the porch, with great friends.
So I invited them back down this past Saturday for a do-over. They graciously claimed to have been on cold medicine the week before as well, and brought some toilet paper just in case. We had a great dinner, soaked up some sun, laughed a lot, and ended the night around the fire pit. It was a really nice night, with just a bit of a nip, a great red sox game on the radio, good laughs, and no mosquitoes. Welcome, Summer (or at least Spring!) and here's to many many more nights by the fire, on the porch, with great friends.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Okay I should have specified this at the outset...
... but bananas are carb-o-crazy, so that's out. But I shall follow the potassium lead. Keep the tips coming! I feel a cramp coming on RIGHT NOW!
OUCH!!
AUGHH hit me with your home remedies, readers, I am getting LEG CRAMPS at night! I was ever-so rudely awakened this morning with my right calf frozen in place. YOW it's painful. I jumped out of bed and tried to put my foot down flat on the floor, which took HOURS, not really- only seconds, but LONG seconds. I've been noticing little minor cramps in my legs and feet lately but this was the mother of all cramps.
I remember that my Dad had a spell of bad leg cramps, and he was told to take Quinine. Apparently, though, that's not prescribed anymore because it causes some irregular heartbeats. I wouldn't be surprised if that cramp might have caused an irregular heartbeat or two. Maybe I'll just have to start drinking Gin and Tonics.
So, let me know if you have any great cures for leg cramps, and I will try them all out and get back to you! Thanks in advance from my poor little calf muscles!
I remember that my Dad had a spell of bad leg cramps, and he was told to take Quinine. Apparently, though, that's not prescribed anymore because it causes some irregular heartbeats. I wouldn't be surprised if that cramp might have caused an irregular heartbeat or two. Maybe I'll just have to start drinking Gin and Tonics.
So, let me know if you have any great cures for leg cramps, and I will try them all out and get back to you! Thanks in advance from my poor little calf muscles!
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
low-carbing
The two best things about the low-carb diet are bleu cheese and bacon. I have gotten to be pretty adept at frying up bacon, and I've returned to my pioneering roots in cooking lots of things in just a touch of bacon grease. I know, I Know! It's bad for the arteries, but sheesh, it's soooooo good. Last week I steamed some broccoli and then sauteed it in said grease, and let me tell you: 1) it was AWESOME, and B)I lost a pound. Outside of Catholic educator's conferences, it has been really easy to do, this diet. And, I'm not going NO-carb, just LOW carb. The weird thing is, I eat WAY more vegetables now that I'm on this diet than I ever did before.
Summer brings ice cream and fruit, and temptation, and the hardest part of eating this way is the dismal beer situation... so who knows how long I'll keep this up? But so far, so good. Sooooo good.
Summer brings ice cream and fruit, and temptation, and the hardest part of eating this way is the dismal beer situation... so who knows how long I'll keep this up? But so far, so good. Sooooo good.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
notes from the loft- and an update
I'm writing from the choir loft above the chapel in the BC STM... below, a Franciscan is being given feedback on a homily he just gave- I guess I'm listening in on some kind of preaching seminar. It's neat up here, what little natural light is filtered through the stained glass windows and then through the latticework that separates the loft from the chapel ceiling.
I'm meeting with my advisor in a few minutes, I always worry that she thinks I'm a wicked drip. I have no evidence that she does, but somehow I always fear that I'll get in there and she'll say "you know, you are a pain in the ass. Why don't you pipe down in class once in a while?" I'll let you know if she says that this time.
The thing about grad school is that I feel, still, pretty out-of-practice, which I think is reasonable considering my last college class was 19 years ago. But also, back then, I wasn't a very conscientious student. So while I'm learning what I'm learning, I'm also kind of learning how to be a student.
I've decided to tell my advisor that I really only want to take wonderful classes from here on in. This semester I have one class that I love love love, and one that I'm just trying to get through. I don't want any more of those get-through classes, if that's at all possible. Is that too much to ask? We'll see, I guess. One thing I do remember from college is that I do much better in classes that I enjoy- so there's method to my madness.
** Update: she didn't seem like she thought I was a drip, so that's good news, and she even laughed at my jokes! And she gave me a whole list of must-have professors and courses to take before I graduate. She was VERY helpful. Now I just have to pick my courses for the Fall and hope for the best!
I'm meeting with my advisor in a few minutes, I always worry that she thinks I'm a wicked drip. I have no evidence that she does, but somehow I always fear that I'll get in there and she'll say "you know, you are a pain in the ass. Why don't you pipe down in class once in a while?" I'll let you know if she says that this time.
The thing about grad school is that I feel, still, pretty out-of-practice, which I think is reasonable considering my last college class was 19 years ago. But also, back then, I wasn't a very conscientious student. So while I'm learning what I'm learning, I'm also kind of learning how to be a student.
I've decided to tell my advisor that I really only want to take wonderful classes from here on in. This semester I have one class that I love love love, and one that I'm just trying to get through. I don't want any more of those get-through classes, if that's at all possible. Is that too much to ask? We'll see, I guess. One thing I do remember from college is that I do much better in classes that I enjoy- so there's method to my madness.
** Update: she didn't seem like she thought I was a drip, so that's good news, and she even laughed at my jokes! And she gave me a whole list of must-have professors and courses to take before I graduate. She was VERY helpful. Now I just have to pick my courses for the Fall and hope for the best!
Monday, April 20, 2009
To California and back
After the whirlwind of Triduum and Easter, we had a quick break and then were off to California for the NCEA/NPCD conference in Anaheim. Our own religious education guru was to be presented with a national award, so it only followed that we should be there to witness the excitement!
We stayed at the Hilton and it was absolutely lovely. Only steps away from the convention center and a quick cab ride away from Downtown Disney. The beds were luscious and the pillows.... perfect. Great shower, great shampoo, and heck- a STARBUCKS in the lobby! Who could ask for anything more?
The conference was firmly okay, with most of the workshops directed at catholic school leaders. The parish ones were a little shallow, but I think most convention workshops are designed to be breathtaking to people who are newer to the field. I remember how amazing and mind-blowing the things I heard at conferences were when I heard them for the first time- so I know those lessons need to keep on being taught. I can go back to BC for my mind-blowing needs.
We went to a round-table workshop on Adolescent Catechesis and really enjoyed the discussion there- it was great to rub elbows with some of the big names in youth ministry and catechesis in general. The banquet to honor our DRE was lovely, and we had a lot of fun celebrating her.
As for California-ing, we got to do some walking and eating out, and visited Downtown Disney, where we ate out in a little sidewalk bar next to a big space heater.
Oh right, did I mention it was COLD out there? Okay, not Massachusetts cold, but colder than we thought it would be. In the low 60's. I had to buy a pashmina!
But all in all the trip was a great one, and we were happy to be there. We're happy to be home, too- and ready to go back to work at a bit lower level of intensity from Easter week.
We stayed at the Hilton and it was absolutely lovely. Only steps away from the convention center and a quick cab ride away from Downtown Disney. The beds were luscious and the pillows.... perfect. Great shower, great shampoo, and heck- a STARBUCKS in the lobby! Who could ask for anything more?
The conference was firmly okay, with most of the workshops directed at catholic school leaders. The parish ones were a little shallow, but I think most convention workshops are designed to be breathtaking to people who are newer to the field. I remember how amazing and mind-blowing the things I heard at conferences were when I heard them for the first time- so I know those lessons need to keep on being taught. I can go back to BC for my mind-blowing needs.
We went to a round-table workshop on Adolescent Catechesis and really enjoyed the discussion there- it was great to rub elbows with some of the big names in youth ministry and catechesis in general. The banquet to honor our DRE was lovely, and we had a lot of fun celebrating her.
As for California-ing, we got to do some walking and eating out, and visited Downtown Disney, where we ate out in a little sidewalk bar next to a big space heater.
Oh right, did I mention it was COLD out there? Okay, not Massachusetts cold, but colder than we thought it would be. In the low 60's. I had to buy a pashmina!
But all in all the trip was a great one, and we were happy to be there. We're happy to be home, too- and ready to go back to work at a bit lower level of intensity from Easter week.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Triduum and Easter tales
It's Easter Monday and even with some good rest yesterday, I still feel like I need some recovery from Holy Week, so while I should be cleaning the kitchen and packing for the trip and calling FIOS to complain about my missing email account, I am sitting on my beeehind watching Hee Haw.
It was the best Holy Week ever, in my humble opinion. Everything was well planned out and presented thoughtfully and with care. The crowds were bigger this year than last, so much so that we kept running out of worship aids. I loved every minute of it. After Mass an older Italian lady approached me and said "I have one remark." Oh? "The young girl serving Communion was wearing TONGS on her feet!" I said "oh yes, yes she was." She said "That's not appropriate." I said "oh, she's right over there, why don't you go and tell her?" This was not the response she was expecting. "Oh nooo, I don't want to embarrass her. You tell her." I said "ohh nooo, you tell her, she's here a lot, do tell her next time you see her. You definitely should." People have funny ideas about teenagers, including this urge to criticize them from afar. I had a pastor once who approached me (because I was the YM) to complain that the group of kids five feet away from him in the narthex were too loud. I said "go over there and tell them!" Sometimes people just need to be reminded to treat teenagers like the fellow parishioners that they are.
On Good Friday I sat on the tabernacle side of the church, so as to greet at that door and to get good pictures of the cantors who CHANTED the Passion. I've never heard it chanted before and it was really striking. I was noticing how many people genuflected before the tabernacle, which was empty, of course, and the doors were wide open. Catholic habits, you know? Silly, really, to bow to an empty tabernacle, but over and over people came in and did so. I love that our faith becomes so ingrained in us that we develop a kind of muscle memory.
On Holy Saturday, the Vigil was beautiful, and a comedy of errors- there were just a bunch of mistakes made, but our priests and deacon took everything in stride and we all had a lot of fun- who'd have thunk that the vigil could be so fun? At the same time, it was beautiful and spirit-filled.
I broke our tradition of sleeping in and lazing all day on Easter to go in for the 9:00AM Mass. We had a baptism planned, and the deacon had planned a big setting with the children's choir, where they sang throughout the baptism. The family of the little girl was amazed at the care and lengths we went to for their little girl (who was a 5 year old, sweet angelic little girl!) and it really felt like a great example of hospitality at work in evangelization. I knew from speaking with the Dad and Godparents in the preparation for the day that they were feeling called back to faith by the recent loss of the child's grandmother, and wanting their daughter to have a religion- and the look on the father's face throughout the Mass was one of amazement- it was clearly not how he remembered church! Everything went right in the preparation with this family and I hope it continues for them.
After the vigil, one of our priests said to me "you were smiling through the whole Mass! Why? Is it because it's Easter?" Well, yes. It's partly because I find so many things funny, like the ladies seated in front of us who were saying the prayers along with the ministers, straight out of her Magnificat. Co-presiding, if you will. Funny. But also, I was just feeling the joy of being a part of this community. On Sunday morning, I was amazed again by how many people I knew in the pews around me, by how much fun it is to be part of a community like this, by the palpable presence of the Spirit in this place.
Ahh, Easter is here, Christ is risen. Indeed, He is risen!
It was the best Holy Week ever, in my humble opinion. Everything was well planned out and presented thoughtfully and with care. The crowds were bigger this year than last, so much so that we kept running out of worship aids. I loved every minute of it. After Mass an older Italian lady approached me and said "I have one remark." Oh? "The young girl serving Communion was wearing TONGS on her feet!" I said "oh yes, yes she was." She said "That's not appropriate." I said "oh, she's right over there, why don't you go and tell her?" This was not the response she was expecting. "Oh nooo, I don't want to embarrass her. You tell her." I said "ohh nooo, you tell her, she's here a lot, do tell her next time you see her. You definitely should." People have funny ideas about teenagers, including this urge to criticize them from afar. I had a pastor once who approached me (because I was the YM) to complain that the group of kids five feet away from him in the narthex were too loud. I said "go over there and tell them!" Sometimes people just need to be reminded to treat teenagers like the fellow parishioners that they are.
On Good Friday I sat on the tabernacle side of the church, so as to greet at that door and to get good pictures of the cantors who CHANTED the Passion. I've never heard it chanted before and it was really striking. I was noticing how many people genuflected before the tabernacle, which was empty, of course, and the doors were wide open. Catholic habits, you know? Silly, really, to bow to an empty tabernacle, but over and over people came in and did so. I love that our faith becomes so ingrained in us that we develop a kind of muscle memory.
On Holy Saturday, the Vigil was beautiful, and a comedy of errors- there were just a bunch of mistakes made, but our priests and deacon took everything in stride and we all had a lot of fun- who'd have thunk that the vigil could be so fun? At the same time, it was beautiful and spirit-filled.
I broke our tradition of sleeping in and lazing all day on Easter to go in for the 9:00AM Mass. We had a baptism planned, and the deacon had planned a big setting with the children's choir, where they sang throughout the baptism. The family of the little girl was amazed at the care and lengths we went to for their little girl (who was a 5 year old, sweet angelic little girl!) and it really felt like a great example of hospitality at work in evangelization. I knew from speaking with the Dad and Godparents in the preparation for the day that they were feeling called back to faith by the recent loss of the child's grandmother, and wanting their daughter to have a religion- and the look on the father's face throughout the Mass was one of amazement- it was clearly not how he remembered church! Everything went right in the preparation with this family and I hope it continues for them.
After the vigil, one of our priests said to me "you were smiling through the whole Mass! Why? Is it because it's Easter?" Well, yes. It's partly because I find so many things funny, like the ladies seated in front of us who were saying the prayers along with the ministers, straight out of her Magnificat. Co-presiding, if you will. Funny. But also, I was just feeling the joy of being a part of this community. On Sunday morning, I was amazed again by how many people I knew in the pews around me, by how much fun it is to be part of a community like this, by the palpable presence of the Spirit in this place.
Ahh, Easter is here, Christ is risen. Indeed, He is risen!
Saturday, April 11, 2009
FIOS rant...
Over at the parish blog I'm praising God and loving the season and community, but here, I seethe.
Our friend PJ got FIOS a while back, and constantly brags about how great it is. So we finally got around to ordering it this week at our house. The day after it was installed, our email accounts (which were already through Verizon) stopped working. I tried a couple of times to contact Verizon/Fios, but didn't have the time to wade through the endless choices and muzak. (I know, I even said "AGENT" to get through to a human, which worked, except that the human I got to put me back on hold, more muzak.
Today Scott called and got through to a snotty "service" person who told us that actually, they don't really help people who use Macs (Really? Cause the tech who came out to install didn't mention that they weren't so hot on Macs when he saw ours in our house).
So, although when I try to access my email account through Verizon's website, and it says my account is suspended, she said it is not. What do I do to get my email now? Well, she didn't know, she saw both email accounts and so the problem must be with us.
Comcast, we miss you!!!
Friday, April 10, 2009
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
What does the FIOS button do?!?!?
Yesterday the FIOS guy came, and set us up in the living room, bedroom and kitchen. Now we have the craziest array of channels, including BYU TV and local channels from weird places, like Dedham. I spent my time in the morning trying to cram in as many of the DVR'ed shows I had on the Comcast box before I had to run off to work.
Here's a weird thing: in the morning, I put on my twitter page that we were getting FIOS. By the time I logged on again (around 4PM) I had a new follower, a Verizon FIOS guy (his twitter page says he's a policy blogger)! Very Big Brother, don't you think?
FIOS is as bitchen as they say, lots of channels, lots of fun features, and 40.00 cheaper than what we were paying Comcast, but now begins the adjustment period. I realized this morning that I need to program the new DVR box with all the shows (and there were a LOT) that we used to DVR before... why didn't I write a list? I have been able to figure out how to set recordings and series recordings, but haven't slogged through the guide enough to get them all back.
I had the old remote memorized and could flip around through it with ease, knew my stuff, knew what to do. I guess there's some kind of book around here somewhere to teach me how to use it, but I don't look forward to that... well, I guess I'll adjust.
Maybe I'm not that great at facing change...
Here's a weird thing: in the morning, I put on my twitter page that we were getting FIOS. By the time I logged on again (around 4PM) I had a new follower, a Verizon FIOS guy (his twitter page says he's a policy blogger)! Very Big Brother, don't you think?
FIOS is as bitchen as they say, lots of channels, lots of fun features, and 40.00 cheaper than what we were paying Comcast, but now begins the adjustment period. I realized this morning that I need to program the new DVR box with all the shows (and there were a LOT) that we used to DVR before... why didn't I write a list? I have been able to figure out how to set recordings and series recordings, but haven't slogged through the guide enough to get them all back.
I had the old remote memorized and could flip around through it with ease, knew my stuff, knew what to do. I guess there's some kind of book around here somewhere to teach me how to use it, but I don't look forward to that... well, I guess I'll adjust.
Maybe I'm not that great at facing change...
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
Friday, April 03, 2009
Scenes from Spring on the Hill
Today is almost a day off for Scott and me, and we had gleefully planned to go out in the yard and uncover the gardens. They're just starting to peek out from under the leaves that we use as mulch (read: don't rake) and I am ITCHING to get out there and play. But it's been raining all day long, and so we're stuck in the house. Too bad it's raining.
Tomorrow it's supposed to clear, some, hopefully just enough for us to get out there for a bit and see what we can find. In the meantime, I did a little cooking and thought I'd share a peek at the view from in here.
It's the last Lenten Friday at home and that means NO meat- next week it's no meat, too, and also it's a lot of nothing else, as we'll be fasting. But I couldn't look another egg in the yolk and wasn't in the mood for tuna, so I pulled some Maine shrimp out of the freezer and stir-fried it! YUM!
Before:
After:
(It was even prettier in real life, and delicious.)
Our Grape Tomato plant has ONE BLOSSOM, and promises of more:
We planted this from seed last Summer but it didn't get very far, so I brought it in for the Winter- it's growing in leaps and bounds and I'm thrilled with the blossom!
And finally, my sister Cate gave me this mystery bulb (because I forget what it is) a couple of Christmases ago, and it didn't bloom- but a big wide, long leaf shot out of it. I let it hibernate for the Winter this year and just brought it back out into the sun about a month ago, and look how it's grown!
Tomorrow it's supposed to clear, some, hopefully just enough for us to get out there for a bit and see what we can find. In the meantime, I did a little cooking and thought I'd share a peek at the view from in here.
It's the last Lenten Friday at home and that means NO meat- next week it's no meat, too, and also it's a lot of nothing else, as we'll be fasting. But I couldn't look another egg in the yolk and wasn't in the mood for tuna, so I pulled some Maine shrimp out of the freezer and stir-fried it! YUM!
Before:
After:
(It was even prettier in real life, and delicious.)
Our Grape Tomato plant has ONE BLOSSOM, and promises of more:
We planted this from seed last Summer but it didn't get very far, so I brought it in for the Winter- it's growing in leaps and bounds and I'm thrilled with the blossom!
And finally, my sister Cate gave me this mystery bulb (because I forget what it is) a couple of Christmases ago, and it didn't bloom- but a big wide, long leaf shot out of it. I let it hibernate for the Winter this year and just brought it back out into the sun about a month ago, and look how it's grown!
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Lent Fatigue
I have Lent fatigue. Lent is indeed the busiest season for churchies, we add all sorts of extra programming and it's traditionally sacrament time, too, so there's even more going on. We've been having simple soup suppers followed by Stations of the Cross every Friday, which has been absolutely lovely but means that we haven't had two days without going in to the church since Ash Wednesday. Ohhhh for two days off!!!
And I've been doing this low-carb thing for my Lenten promise- and doing really well at it! I've been disciplined, even drinking that awful low-carb beer instead of the real stuff, even when we're out on the town! Maybe that doesn't sound too impressive to you, gentle reader, but ohhhh it is.
Last Sunday was Laetare Sunday, which is meant to remind us that we're getting there- that joy and rejoicing are just around the corner. It worked on me, and I started dreaming about Easter Sunday morning, sleeping late and eating great things all day, relaxing with Scott in pajamas all day, maybe a nap... ahhhhh. I can't wait.
But there's still a bit to go- and I'm going to look for some new low-carb things to try, get a little variety in to stave off the boredom, and try to keep myself on track until glorious, glorious Easter.
And I've been doing this low-carb thing for my Lenten promise- and doing really well at it! I've been disciplined, even drinking that awful low-carb beer instead of the real stuff, even when we're out on the town! Maybe that doesn't sound too impressive to you, gentle reader, but ohhhh it is.
Last Sunday was Laetare Sunday, which is meant to remind us that we're getting there- that joy and rejoicing are just around the corner. It worked on me, and I started dreaming about Easter Sunday morning, sleeping late and eating great things all day, relaxing with Scott in pajamas all day, maybe a nap... ahhhhh. I can't wait.
But there's still a bit to go- and I'm going to look for some new low-carb things to try, get a little variety in to stave off the boredom, and try to keep myself on track until glorious, glorious Easter.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
parish family
Today I was perched behind the organ in the chapel, watching the Baptismal festivities. The two babies who were baptized were so cute, and I am lucky to be able to help the deacon with the annointings, because I get an up-close look at the action. From where we sat on the organ bench, we had a great view of a little toddler in a pink dress who was having a great time babbling and checking everything out. Her family passed her around until the right aunt kept her busy and cozy in her lap. After a while, she ended up out in the center aisle, walking slowly toward the front. As she moved forward, I watched each adult at the end of their row tap the shoulder of the person in front of them, passing on the job of being the watchful eye for this little girl. No one jumped up and panicked about her being loose, they all seemed to know her pretty well and know she'd be okay and not disruptive- but they all kept a loving eye on her. It was a neat example of how a family works- I am starting to see that there is enormous value in being part of a big, loving, extended family.
Later I saw that again, with Marissa and Nicole and little Alycia all taking care of each other at Mass. Young people follow their parents' lead in so many ways, but it just can't be discounted how incredibly important a great Auntie can be, how valuable a loving Godparent can be.
I served as a Eucharistic Minister at Mass, too, and was touched by the hands that reached out to receive Communion from me. I'm always intrigued by the different styles of receiving; by hand, by mouth, by hands held up high or way down low, by the people who say "Amen." before I even finish saying "Body of Christ." One guy walks up so close to me that he bumps into my bowl. Some bow before receiving, most don't. Some look into my eyes, some look at the wafer, some at my hand. But anyway, tonight, I was amazed by all the sizes and shapes and textures of the hands that reached out in front of me. They were all ages, and some were strong looking and some were curled up with age. It felt beautiful to be serving communion and be in communion with the variety of hands that make up our parish.
Now I'm off to be with the same headache that's dogged me since Friday. Hormonal, I guess. Tomorrow's supposed to be very cold again, Spring hopes are dashed. But Easter's coming, I can feel it.
Later I saw that again, with Marissa and Nicole and little Alycia all taking care of each other at Mass. Young people follow their parents' lead in so many ways, but it just can't be discounted how incredibly important a great Auntie can be, how valuable a loving Godparent can be.
I served as a Eucharistic Minister at Mass, too, and was touched by the hands that reached out to receive Communion from me. I'm always intrigued by the different styles of receiving; by hand, by mouth, by hands held up high or way down low, by the people who say "Amen." before I even finish saying "Body of Christ." One guy walks up so close to me that he bumps into my bowl. Some bow before receiving, most don't. Some look into my eyes, some look at the wafer, some at my hand. But anyway, tonight, I was amazed by all the sizes and shapes and textures of the hands that reached out in front of me. They were all ages, and some were strong looking and some were curled up with age. It felt beautiful to be serving communion and be in communion with the variety of hands that make up our parish.
Now I'm off to be with the same headache that's dogged me since Friday. Hormonal, I guess. Tomorrow's supposed to be very cold again, Spring hopes are dashed. But Easter's coming, I can feel it.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
cheery cheery cheery
Today it was around 60 degrees, and sunny. I saw green points poking out of the ground, and went for a walk without a proper coat, without gloves, without snow-proof shoes. I've been getting emails from a seed catalog company and it's full of temptations. I think we've planted mostly perennials in our little garden at this point, but I seem to recall a few empty spots.
I can feel a difference, physically, when it starts to warm up like this. This morning I cleaned the whole kitchen and part of the bathroom, made myself breakfast and lunch, and got it all done before going to work!
I always think about how brilliant it is that Lent happens in the Spring. I know, I know it's no coincidence but I really love how we start in darkness and each day as we grow closer and closer to the glory of Easter, the days become brighter and warmer and all around are signs of new and renewed life. It really is a hope-filled time and I can feel my heart warming along with my fingers.
Right after Easter we leave for California for a religious education conference, and I can't wait! I love having something to look forward to. I feel happy and lucky to have the life I have!
I can feel a difference, physically, when it starts to warm up like this. This morning I cleaned the whole kitchen and part of the bathroom, made myself breakfast and lunch, and got it all done before going to work!
I always think about how brilliant it is that Lent happens in the Spring. I know, I know it's no coincidence but I really love how we start in darkness and each day as we grow closer and closer to the glory of Easter, the days become brighter and warmer and all around are signs of new and renewed life. It really is a hope-filled time and I can feel my heart warming along with my fingers.
Right after Easter we leave for California for a religious education conference, and I can't wait! I love having something to look forward to. I feel happy and lucky to have the life I have!
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Simple Woman's Daybook
FOR TODAY 03/12/09...Outside My Window... my little garden is gathering up strength for the day I can pull all the mulchy leaves off and let the sun at them.
I am thinking... about 30 Rock, it's just such a funny show!!! I get a new quotable quote from that show every week.
I am thankful for... for payday! We can get groceries now! Woo!
From the kitchen... did I mention we have no groceries?
I am wearing... I'm dressed, still dressed from work! No pajamas this time! But soon...
I am creating... seriously strong stomach muscles from the cough I have.
I am going... to California in April for a conference. I'm so looking forward to it!!
I am reading... still a LOT for my Christology class. But also, I'm reading a book called Good News Parish Leadership that says, among other things, that hospitality is job one for a parish. Job One!
I am hoping... that my doctor will call me tomorrow and save me from this cough.
I am hearing... Pip purring from my lap
Around the house... oh, you know, laundry awaits.
One of my favorite things... is bedtime. I love crawling into our bed and pulling the comforter up under my chin. Ahhhhhhh.
A Few Plans For The Rest Of The Week: Friday night is Soup and Stations at the church, and the Youth Ministry is sponsoring. The rest of Friday and Saturday I will probably spend the day on the couch trying not to cough.
Here is picture thought I am sharing...
Last year I planted grape tomato seeds, and they only grew about two inches over the summer, so I brought them in for the winter. Lookit them now!!
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
salvation
So like I said I'm about halfway through Christology. We've talked about the subject of Christology itself, how it works, and we've talked about the difference between Jesus and Christ and we've talked about the Trinity, and we've talked about the Personal Unity of Christ (that is, how He's human AND divine at the same time). What we haven't talked about yet, and what I've been waiting for anxiously, is SALVATION.
I'm curious about salvation and as one of the authors in one of my articles said, salvation is something that every Catholic knows, until asked to define it. I've heard so many conflicting answers to the question of Are We Saved/Who Is Saved/How Are We Saved If Indeed We Are that I just don't know. I mean, I have a hunch... but I'm waiting and waiting for the answer to come to me in Christology class. Everyone who's answered these questions for me has been a good resource, Capital C Catholic, and each answer has been juuuuust different enough to leave me confused. I've heard that we're Redeemed, but not Saved, but that we don't believe in Faith And Good Works as a way to get to salvation, although, I've heard that we kind of, actually, do.
I've heard that Jesus has saved us but not yet.
So, if I get through this course (or God forbid, my graduate studies) without finding the answer, I am going to be sorely disappointed.
Gotta go get some more reading done.
I'm curious about salvation and as one of the authors in one of my articles said, salvation is something that every Catholic knows, until asked to define it. I've heard so many conflicting answers to the question of Are We Saved/Who Is Saved/How Are We Saved If Indeed We Are that I just don't know. I mean, I have a hunch... but I'm waiting and waiting for the answer to come to me in Christology class. Everyone who's answered these questions for me has been a good resource, Capital C Catholic, and each answer has been juuuuust different enough to leave me confused. I've heard that we're Redeemed, but not Saved, but that we don't believe in Faith And Good Works as a way to get to salvation, although, I've heard that we kind of, actually, do.
I've heard that Jesus has saved us but not yet.
So, if I get through this course (or God forbid, my graduate studies) without finding the answer, I am going to be sorely disappointed.
Gotta go get some more reading done.
Friday, March 06, 2009
Post the second, Boston Symposium
So. This was the Boston Symposium on Adolescent Catechesis, offered by a bunch of different offices from the RCAB. The original speaker was to be Fr. Brian Bransfield, who I've never heard of. I wonder now what his take on the subject matter might have been. He was called to a big meeting, though, and we were glad when it was announced that Sean Reynolds would take his place.
The day opened with an address by Cardinal Sean, who urged us to make Catholic Identity a priority, by going back to the Sacraments, Marian devotion, and the Papacy. Yeah.
The rest of the day was divided into segments:
Session One: FORMING YOUNG DISCIPLES- a quick review of the NSYR
Session Two: The Conclusion Chapter of Soul Searching
Session three: Are we asking the right questions?
It was interesting to watch people's reactions to what Sean presented. He gave us some fascinating insights into the faith lives of kids, like;
The thing of it is, the whole day ended very much to be about ADULT faith formation. If we find that kids basically do what their parents do, then WHY are we using the bulk of our resources on children?
Of course (my words here), ministry to youth is important- vital. Necessary. And... it had better be good. Because when our young people become parents, they'll be passing along what they believe. It can't start with a Young Adult Hootenanny Group, and it can't wait until they stumble back to the church to have their kids go through First Eucharist.
I wonder what people there thought of the presentation. The group was a mix of Youth Ministers, DRE's, and Catholic School teachers, and I bet they expected something a little bit more centered around... well, how to do catechesis with youth. But as for us Whole-Community-Catechesis people, us Lifelong Faith Formation people, I think we were certainly affirmed. I was one of only a couple of people who raised their hands when they asked if anyone's job involved working with parents. I wonder, too, what the Cardinal thought... he was supposed to give some kind of reflection at the end, but instead sent us off with a thanks and an Our Father...
The day opened with an address by Cardinal Sean, who urged us to make Catholic Identity a priority, by going back to the Sacraments, Marian devotion, and the Papacy. Yeah.
The rest of the day was divided into segments:
Session One: FORMING YOUNG DISCIPLES- a quick review of the NSYR
Session Two: The Conclusion Chapter of Soul Searching
Session three: Are we asking the right questions?
It was interesting to watch people's reactions to what Sean presented. He gave us some fascinating insights into the faith lives of kids, like;
- When it comes to faith, Most teens pretty much follow the faith of their parents.
- In most variables measuring religiosity, Catholic teens, in comparison to other Christian denominations, are worse than all others.
- Most American teenagers were found to be not very spiritual or religious.
- Most American teenagers are remarkably inarticulate about their faith (particularly Catholic teens).
The thing of it is, the whole day ended very much to be about ADULT faith formation. If we find that kids basically do what their parents do, then WHY are we using the bulk of our resources on children?
Of course (my words here), ministry to youth is important- vital. Necessary. And... it had better be good. Because when our young people become parents, they'll be passing along what they believe. It can't start with a Young Adult Hootenanny Group, and it can't wait until they stumble back to the church to have their kids go through First Eucharist.
I wonder what people there thought of the presentation. The group was a mix of Youth Ministers, DRE's, and Catholic School teachers, and I bet they expected something a little bit more centered around... well, how to do catechesis with youth. But as for us Whole-Community-Catechesis people, us Lifelong Faith Formation people, I think we were certainly affirmed. I was one of only a couple of people who raised their hands when they asked if anyone's job involved working with parents. I wonder, too, what the Cardinal thought... he was supposed to give some kind of reflection at the end, but instead sent us off with a thanks and an Our Father...
Post the first, Boston Symposium, Rant Edition
So yesterday we ventured into Archdiocesan territory for the Boston Symposium on Adolescent Catechesis. There are two parts that I must report on, regarding this day; the posh new Pastoral Center, and of course the presentation.
I admit that I have such a bad attitude when it comes to the RCAB- twice this very week I heard about two good ideas falling flat because the Archdiocese couldn't make them happen, and of course I've been 3rd-degree burned by some of the Upper Persons in the RCAB organization. So I do admit I approached the day with a chip on my shoulder, well-earned as it may be. It's that same old feeling of running into a bad ex at a mutual friend's wedding- but I did my best to think positive and expect good things from the day. It was my first visit to the Pastoral Center and hooooeyyyy it's nice.
I know, I know, it's donated- the building came from a very generous donor, okay... but I couldn't believe how tricked-out it was. Fancy lighting, gorgeous everything, everything was A-1. This did not look like the building of a group who was trying to dig itself out of a financial hole and win back the hearts of the Little People. And yeah, maybe this is nitpicking but it was nowhere near Green. They didn't even have recycling buckets for the cans and water bottles from lunch. This, I guess, might be a niggling detail, but to me it signifies a group that just can't seem to get their behavior to match their values. Contrast that to the Sisters of St. Joseph's "mother house" which was carefully designed to be a good investment for the sisters, and the design and maintenance is thoughtfully made to be green green green. It's a gorgeous building but no the sisters were careful not to sell their collective souls to build it.
The Symposium was oversold, so about 30 of us were in another room with a screen, speakers, a better view and more space and comfort than the hundreds of people in the actual room. We did participate, and the speaker was great at recognizing our existence and including us in the presentation. I guess I'd say it was an educational day, in many ways!
I admit that I have such a bad attitude when it comes to the RCAB- twice this very week I heard about two good ideas falling flat because the Archdiocese couldn't make them happen, and of course I've been 3rd-degree burned by some of the Upper Persons in the RCAB organization. So I do admit I approached the day with a chip on my shoulder, well-earned as it may be. It's that same old feeling of running into a bad ex at a mutual friend's wedding- but I did my best to think positive and expect good things from the day. It was my first visit to the Pastoral Center and hooooeyyyy it's nice.
I know, I know, it's donated- the building came from a very generous donor, okay... but I couldn't believe how tricked-out it was. Fancy lighting, gorgeous everything, everything was A-1. This did not look like the building of a group who was trying to dig itself out of a financial hole and win back the hearts of the Little People. And yeah, maybe this is nitpicking but it was nowhere near Green. They didn't even have recycling buckets for the cans and water bottles from lunch. This, I guess, might be a niggling detail, but to me it signifies a group that just can't seem to get their behavior to match their values. Contrast that to the Sisters of St. Joseph's "mother house" which was carefully designed to be a good investment for the sisters, and the design and maintenance is thoughtfully made to be green green green. It's a gorgeous building but no the sisters were careful not to sell their collective souls to build it.
The Symposium was oversold, so about 30 of us were in another room with a screen, speakers, a better view and more space and comfort than the hundreds of people in the actual room. We did participate, and the speaker was great at recognizing our existence and including us in the presentation. I guess I'd say it was an educational day, in many ways!
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Catholic Tool
I know, I've been very neglectful of this blog, and you, dear readers... I just haven't been able to complete a fascinating thought lately. Maybe it's because I'm on "Spring" break. We've had a ton of snow and it's been awfully cold, and I'm starting to feel that longing that comes around in March every year.
I've charged right into Lent with pretty good resolve, and this year I'm low-carbing, which is tricky in Lent. Fridays are especially tough for an almost-complete-meat-eater. It's also been Scott's birthday "season," which means parties and cake at every turn. I don't want to be a Catholic Tool and peel the cheese off the pizza at staff lunch, and so I suck it up and try to do the best I can.
Each Friday for Lent our parish is hosting simple soup suppers followed by the Stations of the Cross. A different parish group sponsors the suppers each week, and supplies the soup. Our first one was sponsored by the Knights of Columbus, pros at this sort of thing, and they served minestrone and corn chowder. The chowder was delicious due, no doubt, to the bacon bits in it.
The more I learn about Jesus, the more I cringe at things like the Stations of the Cross. I have a hard time paying such strict attention to just that part of the story, because to me the important parts of Jesus' Christ-hood are, well, all the parts. So when we kneel and say that by His holy cross He redeemed the world, well, I have some trouble with almost that whole sentence. This is the trouble with gaining a little bit of knowledge I guess. I still have another half-semester of Christology to go, so maybe that'll swing me back around.
I've charged right into Lent with pretty good resolve, and this year I'm low-carbing, which is tricky in Lent. Fridays are especially tough for an almost-complete-meat-eater. It's also been Scott's birthday "season," which means parties and cake at every turn. I don't want to be a Catholic Tool and peel the cheese off the pizza at staff lunch, and so I suck it up and try to do the best I can.
Each Friday for Lent our parish is hosting simple soup suppers followed by the Stations of the Cross. A different parish group sponsors the suppers each week, and supplies the soup. Our first one was sponsored by the Knights of Columbus, pros at this sort of thing, and they served minestrone and corn chowder. The chowder was delicious due, no doubt, to the bacon bits in it.
The more I learn about Jesus, the more I cringe at things like the Stations of the Cross. I have a hard time paying such strict attention to just that part of the story, because to me the important parts of Jesus' Christ-hood are, well, all the parts. So when we kneel and say that by His holy cross He redeemed the world, well, I have some trouble with almost that whole sentence. This is the trouble with gaining a little bit of knowledge I guess. I still have another half-semester of Christology to go, so maybe that'll swing me back around.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
I am a culinary goddess
I am on my way soon to PJ's annual Mardi Gras gathering, and since he forgot to get a King Cake (and let's face it, they are fun only while you're looking for the baby, but then become a responsibility... and they're not so much cake as they are breakfast quickbread. I dunno, I just never caught the king cake fever I guess) I decided to make rainbow cupcakes.
Inspired by this rainbow cake, I whipped up these cupcakes and can't wait to get there and bite into one!
Here's a peek into the creative process:
6 colors, using white cake mix and regular liquid food colors.
I just spooned in the colors one at a time, on top of each other.
Mmmm, can't you just smell the cakey goodness?
Cooling on my porch. Any unsuspecting snacker would think they're just red. But NO.
And the final results. PS, the frosting is Chocolate Cream Cheese frosting. Oh yeah.
Sorry the last pictures are a little fuzzy, I was trembling with excitement.
Inspired by this rainbow cake, I whipped up these cupcakes and can't wait to get there and bite into one!
Here's a peek into the creative process:
6 colors, using white cake mix and regular liquid food colors.
I just spooned in the colors one at a time, on top of each other.
Mmmm, can't you just smell the cakey goodness?
Cooling on my porch. Any unsuspecting snacker would think they're just red. But NO.
And the final results. PS, the frosting is Chocolate Cream Cheese frosting. Oh yeah.
Sorry the last pictures are a little fuzzy, I was trembling with excitement.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
How about this: he's not mine to keep
I have been following Amy Welborn's heartbreaking life story since the unexpected death of her husband a week or two ago... he died on a treadmill at the gym, a complete and total shock... it's been the equivalent of slowing down on a highway to peer at an accident scene, for me, who is so gripped by the fear of losing my own husband. I've been reading her blog posts about her experience of grief and aching along with her. Today, I read this post and it has set me back, has made me think in a new way:
Go Figure
Go Figure
Sunday, February 15, 2009
death be not such a big deal
I don't know if I've mentioned this but I think about death a lot. Lately I've been wondering if there's something unhealthy about how often it crosses my mind. Such as, when Scott and I are driving two cars home from work, and I lose sight of him in my rear-view, and think "I should stay within sight of his car, in case something happens to him..." or when I go in to wake him up in the morning and check to make sure he's breathing first.
This week my pastor's brother died suddenly. They were the best of friends, and my pastor had just come from an extended vacation with his brother- only a few days later he died unexpectedly, it was really a shock. Throughout the wake and funeral, we often remarked how blessed they were to have had that vacation time together, and how if you have to die, doing so suddenly with no suffering and no warning is maybe something we should all hope for- along with the mourning, I think there was a palpable feeling of gratitude for the way it all happened.
And I can surely see the logic in that. So as I sat in the pew, watching my beloved pastor mourn but celebrate, I wondered just what my position on death is, after all.
I think I'm not really afraid of dying. I truly believe that whatever comes next will be even better than what we experience in life, and hell is not a pervasive worry of mine (as much as some would say it should be!) I know somehow that I'll see my loved ones again, only burden-free, and blissful. What's to fear? And I do feel this same hope for my loved ones- that they'll be in Heaven with Jesus and all that... so why then am I so worried on the death of those close to me?
Is it the "dropping of the shoe" of it all? Is it my need to control things that makes me hyper-vigilant of the lives of my friends and family? I guess I need to do some reckoning between my beliefs. Maybe if I can remember how much I'm cool with death on the whole, it'll make my days worry-free.
You know what I think would really help? Some ice cream.
This week my pastor's brother died suddenly. They were the best of friends, and my pastor had just come from an extended vacation with his brother- only a few days later he died unexpectedly, it was really a shock. Throughout the wake and funeral, we often remarked how blessed they were to have had that vacation time together, and how if you have to die, doing so suddenly with no suffering and no warning is maybe something we should all hope for- along with the mourning, I think there was a palpable feeling of gratitude for the way it all happened.
And I can surely see the logic in that. So as I sat in the pew, watching my beloved pastor mourn but celebrate, I wondered just what my position on death is, after all.
I think I'm not really afraid of dying. I truly believe that whatever comes next will be even better than what we experience in life, and hell is not a pervasive worry of mine (as much as some would say it should be!) I know somehow that I'll see my loved ones again, only burden-free, and blissful. What's to fear? And I do feel this same hope for my loved ones- that they'll be in Heaven with Jesus and all that... so why then am I so worried on the death of those close to me?
Is it the "dropping of the shoe" of it all? Is it my need to control things that makes me hyper-vigilant of the lives of my friends and family? I guess I need to do some reckoning between my beliefs. Maybe if I can remember how much I'm cool with death on the whole, it'll make my days worry-free.
You know what I think would really help? Some ice cream.
Friday, February 06, 2009
Mom, too?
The other day Scott and I went to visit my friend in the hospital- her son was in a bed all hooked up with tubes and wires and was sedated. At one point, she and I were standing at the crib-side, looking down at him, when the chaplain came in to pay a visit. She shook my friend's hand and asked "are you Mom?" and then turned to me and said "are you Mom, too?"
These are the things that went through my head in that second:
1) How nice of her to be this open and welcoming to the possibility that I might be Mom, too.
2) Why does she think I could be Mom, too? Do I LOOK LIKE A LESBIAN? Or, do I look sad enough to be Mom? Or was I gazing lovingly at my friend when she came in?
3) DON'T say NO like you're offended! Don't be defensive! Be cool!
4) What's the protocol here, do I tell her that I'm a minister too?
5) I'm not just Mom, too, I'm in NO WAY Mom.
6) Do I LOOK LIKE A MOM?
Seriously, ALL these things went through my head in a split second. Funny how the brain works.
I said "oh! No, I'm a friend." She shook my hand and proceeded with the ministering. She did a lovely job- asked my friend what she could do to help, and she asked for prayers, which the min. promptly set to. The prayer was nice- She had asked my friend if she had a "particular tradition" and my friend said she's a Protestant- so there was no sign of the cross or anything. It was interesting to see another minister at work.
When she left, my friend bent over fully and laughed so hard that the woman asked me if I was Mom, too. We have so many great stories like this one in our history. We spent the next half hour replaying them and laughing. It was a great break in the worry.
These are the things that went through my head in that second:
1) How nice of her to be this open and welcoming to the possibility that I might be Mom, too.
2) Why does she think I could be Mom, too? Do I LOOK LIKE A LESBIAN? Or, do I look sad enough to be Mom? Or was I gazing lovingly at my friend when she came in?
3) DON'T say NO like you're offended! Don't be defensive! Be cool!
4) What's the protocol here, do I tell her that I'm a minister too?
5) I'm not just Mom, too, I'm in NO WAY Mom.
6) Do I LOOK LIKE A MOM?
Seriously, ALL these things went through my head in a split second. Funny how the brain works.
I said "oh! No, I'm a friend." She shook my hand and proceeded with the ministering. She did a lovely job- asked my friend what she could do to help, and she asked for prayers, which the min. promptly set to. The prayer was nice- She had asked my friend if she had a "particular tradition" and my friend said she's a Protestant- so there was no sign of the cross or anything. It was interesting to see another minister at work.
When she left, my friend bent over fully and laughed so hard that the woman asked me if I was Mom, too. We have so many great stories like this one in our history. We spent the next half hour replaying them and laughing. It was a great break in the worry.
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
Simple Woman's Daybook
FOR TODAY 02/04/09...Outside My Window... a new layer of snow makes everything look new again.
I am thinking... about whether or not to go in to work tomorrow- I've been out two days with a rotten...something and still don't feel much better.
I am thankful for... Scott. I just read about Amy Welborn's husband, who died unexpectedly and tragically on a treadmill at the gym. Now what are we supposed to do with that??
From the kitchen... not much, I'm not very hungry... I had a half of an english muffin for breakfast, some soup for lunch, and some egg salad for dinner. Nothing tastes very good.
I am wearing... pajamas. Am I always wearing pajamas when I write these things?
I am creating... columns for the bulletin. For the past 3 bulletins, the pastor has been out of town, and no one else (seriously, NO ONE ELSE on the staff would write one. So I'm doing my quarter page column, plus his full-page column. I'm glad he'll be back next week!
I am going... to stay home another day, probably. It feels like I have a tennis ball in my throat.
I am reading... a LOT for my Christology class. Do theological authors not have to submit their text for editing? Some of this stuff is one complete paragraph, no breaks. And it's heady stuff. Interesting, but sheesh.
I am hoping... that Scott comes home soon so we can watch LOST together
I am hearing... the neighbors coming in with their dog. He's a little one, but not a yappy little one- and I like to hear his happy footsteps on our ceiling when his owners come home!
Around the house... Scott's stuff is clean and neat and my stuff is all over the place. I can't wait till spring and the energy it brings.
One of my favorite things... is Pip. The other is Zarley. They are our cats. Last night when I was asleep on the couch I woke to Pip, who was sitting on the coffee table and looking at me, purring her little heart out. I said "hi" and she stepped forward, kissed my forehead, and sat back down. Sweet.
A Few Plans For The Rest Of The Week: this Sunday is our first pot-luck dinner at the parish, in a long time. I am the bold piece who has been swearing to everyone that it's a good idea and that people will come. I hope they do.
Here is picture thought I am sharing...
Pip likes to dig under blankets and sleep in a cozy cocoon, it's very cute- but I'm always afraid Scott will plop down on her while she's under there, so I made this little sign to put on her to tell him she's there. It says "don't sit on me."
...which makes the 40's the new 30's I guess
American Idol, especially tonight's episode, is proof-positive that the 30's are so much better than the 20's.
Monday, February 02, 2009
Cupdate
Get it? Cupdate?
I went back to the surgeon today to have some little problems addressed. Apparently my body doesn't like the idea of dissolving dissolvable stitches, and instead pushes them out through my skin. It's not a painful thing, but it is a bit disconcerting.
I have been thinking about how much I've healed in the past two months, how far I've come. Like they say about childbirth, the pain is a distant, hazy memory- I remember that it hurt, but can't really locate that experience in my mind. I do remember being miserable and discouraged, but those feelings seem long-ago and far-away too. My friend told me that one day I'd realize that I hadn't noticed my incisions all day, and that day has practically come now. I can lay on my belly at night and jog up the stairs at work without any kind of agony.
So, would I recommend this surgery to someone else? Yeah, I think I would. I don't think I'm one of those surgery cheerleaders who brag about how great they feel. Yet. But I think that day might come. One thing's for sure, I notice EVERYONE'S chest now. I find myself thinking "hey that girl could use a breast reduction (or two)."
I went back to the surgeon today to have some little problems addressed. Apparently my body doesn't like the idea of dissolving dissolvable stitches, and instead pushes them out through my skin. It's not a painful thing, but it is a bit disconcerting.
I have been thinking about how much I've healed in the past two months, how far I've come. Like they say about childbirth, the pain is a distant, hazy memory- I remember that it hurt, but can't really locate that experience in my mind. I do remember being miserable and discouraged, but those feelings seem long-ago and far-away too. My friend told me that one day I'd realize that I hadn't noticed my incisions all day, and that day has practically come now. I can lay on my belly at night and jog up the stairs at work without any kind of agony.
So, would I recommend this surgery to someone else? Yeah, I think I would. I don't think I'm one of those surgery cheerleaders who brag about how great they feel. Yet. But I think that day might come. One thing's for sure, I notice EVERYONE'S chest now. I find myself thinking "hey that girl could use a breast reduction (or two)."
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