Invalid Marriage

A few weeks ago I stood at the back of my church and listened as my pastor, in his homily, told the congregation that my marriage is invalid, because I don't want to have kids. Okay, he didn't mention me specifically... but it felt pretty awkward to me, just the same. I know the Church feels that procreation is pretty darned important, and I'm in no means against it. I am pro-baby, and I approve of people having them. I just don't think it's in the Plans for me.
I am the youngest of many, and never was around babies very much- I very rarely babysat (and when I did I was fairly ineffective) so I don't know nothin' about birthin' no babies. We can't afford to have babies, in our current and forever situation of living very close to the financial bone. We are not savers... barely have a plan for ourselves past next week. We live in a one-bedroom apartment full of non-baby-proof stuff... our schedules are ridiculous for child-rearing- we work from around noon to around 8:00pm, and are gone on weekends quite often, doing overnights and trips, etc. It just wouldn't all fit together nicely with a nap schedule and whatnot. Day care costs almost as much as I make.
But ultimately, I feel very clearly called to ministry, (even if the way that works out is less than easy) and very clearly not called to motherhood. Does that mean that I should not have gotten married? I guess, in the eyes of the Church, that this is true, because I've created a non-creative marriage. But I can't believe that God's calling me to ministry means that I couldn't marry my true love... it just doesn't seem like something the God I know would want for me.
So on I go. But as sure as I feel, and surely directed by God, it stings to hear the pastor who hired me declare my marriage invalid because I'm not a mother.

2 New Posts; or, This Is PMS

I have cried tonight to Grey's Anatomy, and to Desperate Housewives. And picked out most of the M&M's from the Gorp that Sue and Don brought to Friends' Thanksgiving last week.
Now we're watching The Office, and if I cry at that, I will just pack it in for the night.

Have I said this before?

I think God gives us near-misses and brushes with disaster to learn empathy. Going through the pain of losing someone who's not sooo close to me gives me an inkling of the pain that people go through when they lose someone very close. Being pregnant, however briefly, gave me insight into what pregnancy feels like- I can commiserate with the sickness, the exhaustion, the worry, the advice. Losing the baby after only 3 months, (and then again after only a month) makes my heart break for people who lose theirs after carrying them full-term, or at delivery... I understand addiction, and compulsion, at least to some degree, because of my own
In every Lifetime movie, someone says to someone else "I know how you feel", and then the other person screams "HOW DARE YOU SAY YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL?? UNLESS YOU'VE BEEN THROUGH WHAT I'VE BEEN THROUGH YOU CAN'T UNDERSTAND!!" I don't believe that's true- I believe that pain is pain. Even if we haven't been in the same situations, we can relate to each others' pain, because we know pain.
Which makes my first point kind of moot, now that I read back. The point is, empathy.

Happiness

today I was stopped at a light behind a car with a sticker on its back window, which read "Happiness is being Swedish". I thought to myself, that doesn't seem fair...

To have your happiness pre-set by just being born into an ethnic heritage. How easy!
Lately I've been thinking a lot about happiness. I think of myself as a happy person overall, but I struggle so much at work, and I have for so long. I know I can feel happiness, because I do at home, I do with my husband, I do with my friends, my family, my cats. So why do I struggle so much when I'm at work, doing God's work for crying out loud? Why can't I feel contentment in my vocation? Is it that I'm in the wrong place? Is it that I'm in the wrong church? Is it that I don't really understand what my vocation is? Am I doing things just so wrong? Is it that I just don't like to be told what to do? (I don't.)
I want to be happy, in all areas of my life. Maybe that's just not reality- maybe my discomfort in my work is fair trade for the bliss I feel at home. Maybe that's fair. Maybe I just haven't found the perfect fit yet. Maybe it's just that I'm not swedish...

Election Day

Well it's finally, almost, over. The giant sucking sound we hear now is the new absence of political ads from the airwaves. I have to admit that really, the opinions I've formed about the candidates here have been almost purely from their ads. That can't be good, I know. But looking back over the past months, I really can't remember any other influences. I do listen constantly to NPR, but the coverage I have heard about the races has been mostly about the ads- this one is attacking and negative, that one is offensive... I did see bits of the debates, and heard the highlights from them, and those were significant too in the formation of my opinions.
I am due to vote in about an hour, and I still have not made up my mind about the alcohol in grocery stores one. I am honestly torn. I was worried about small liquor store owners (the stores are small, not the owners) and what effect it might have on them, but I actually spoke to one and he said they weren't worried about that. And as I said I'm annoyed with the scare tactic ads, and since I'm from Maine, where you can buy alcohol in grocery stores already, I just don't see it as such a huge deal. Hmm, maybe I have made up my mind!
Anyway, I'm praying today that elections go well, and in the direction I want them to... just kidding. not really.

Friends' Thanksgiving

Five years ago, our friend Ann-Marie suggested that we have a party for all our Youth Ministry friends. She had heard of this idea; it's based on the fact that you never get to celebrate Thanksgiving with your friends, since everyone is with their family on that day. The deal was, the hostess makes a turkey, and everyone else is responsible for another dish; veggies, potatoes, salad, rolls, cranberry sauce. Friends' Thanksgiving was born, and became a beloved (at least by us hosts!) tradition.
I was thinking last night about how the memories from each year's FT marked our progress and changes as a group of friends. Our first year was in Beverly, just newly married, and our friends were at various points in their relationships.There were friends there who have moved away or moved on.
Two years ago, We were unexpectedly (and freaked-out-ingly) pregnant, and laced our apartment with clues to the news- we even stuck the pregnancy tests with their two pink lines up in various places around the house. It was the beginning of a brand new world for us, and for our friends Pete and Keri, who also announced their same exciting news. A year later we were in yet another new apartment, with no baby, me in another new job, and things getting pretty much back to normal. New friends were with us, and some of the friends who had been dating in years past were broken up, and some were married to each other.
This year there was yet another new baby announcement (not from us!) and new love, old friends and new additions to the crowd. We're in a happy apartment, with happy cats, doing pretty well overall. I'm thankful for our good friends, and our life, and the blessing of sharing in our friends' lives.

Two Great Band Names

1. Both Dakotas
2. Various Nefarious

All Saints

I went to the noon Mass today for All Saints'Day. I got there about 10 minutes early and decided to take it in as a "civillian". Usually I check in at the Sacristy and volunteer to be a Eucharistic Minister, or stand by the doors and greet, sit near the back, or busy myself with some other kind of whatnot.
So I knelt to pray and found myself sort of scrambling for something to say to God. I am not a good pray-er. I chat with God all day long, but when it comes to praying with (as Dave Dumaine urges) my whole heart, mind and soul, I can really only remember doing that a long time ago.
When I was in high school, I was blessed to belong to a parish that took on the great experiment of youth ministry, as it was transitioning from CYO to the Vision of Youth Ministry in all its comprehensiveness. Great things happened to me through my membership in that church. The greatest things that happened, though, didn't happen there. The best thing my parish did for me was to put someone in charge of finding great conversion opportunities for me, and my peers. They connected me with retreats like Search and Gift- similar to the "TEC" retreats that still run here in Massachusetts. The leaders on those retreats told me great things about myself, believed that I already was the great person I hoped to be. They saw gifts in me that I had never heard about before, and encouraged me to trust my heart, because it was good. My parish connected me with CLI, then ACLI, through which God called me to Youth Ministry. And the rest, as they say...
So today when I knelt in the mega-mega church that is the home of my current ministry, surrounded mostly by strangers, older people with grey hair, feeling a bit like a stranger in a strange land, I thanked God for the Saints He'd sent my way. St. Joseph, under whose care Scott and I placed our marriage, our family; St. Theresa, who prayed and guided me through loss in her little way, St. Anthony who helps me find various and sundry things that I lose... (I try not to ask him unless I'm really desperate), St. Jude, to whom my team has turned for help for our Youth Ministry. But also, for Michelle, who told me to trust my heart, for Jim, who shared his joyful faith with me, for Bad Father Brad, for John Roberto and Brian Reynolds. And for the people at St. Charles, whose names I forget... who connected me with these wonderful people. Saints, all.

it's funny 'cause it's true!

2 new posts

Last night the lesson for our 10th graders was "the Perfect Church". They're given free reign and asked to dream big about what the perfect Catholic Church would look like. What would the Church be doing for children? Teenagers? Families? Elderly? People with disabilities? Sinners? Doubters? What would the music be like? What would the homilies be like? What would the building look like?
Without fail, every time I've used this lesson, the kids suggest such things as La-Z-Boy chairs in the sanctuary, famous rock bands for the Mass music, blabityblah. Then they get down to the nitty-gritty. They suggest providing rides and Mass buddies for the elderly. They talk about child care, they talk about food pantries, they talk about great speakers giving the homilies, messages that really connect with people's lives, more young people involved in the activities there. They dream up a beautiful community that thinks and cares for the least of its members. They envision worshipful, communal liturgies.
Then they get the WHAMMO!! The teachers say "Wow!! What great ideas!!! Now. Who is going to make this happen?" They show them that their dreams reflect their values- their ideas reveal ideas that they think are important. And if that's true, then their behavior should reflect those values. You want better music? What are you willing to do to make that happen? You want someone to help the elderly? How are you willing to help? You think the sanctuary needs improvement? How much will you donate toward those improvements? Will you sit on a committee to plan those changes?
There's a saying that the squeaky wheel gets the grease. Maybe it should be the squeaky wheel gets put to work!

Random Thoughts.

I'm watching Oprah- she's showing footage of a two-legged dog who learned to walk on her two back legs. Wow.

I don't think I ever learned to play Yahtzee. I did however just learn to play mancala, which seems like the kind of game that you just play the same moves over and over. But maybe that's just me.

I think the most promising career for young people today is going to be Chiropractic. The kids who come to our middle school program directly from school have bags that weigh a ridiculous amount. And the fashion, it seems, is to wear your backpack way down on your back, so that the only part of it to contact your body is the straps and the bottom of the pack, which hits across the rear end. They will be bent in half by the time they're in college.

Also, whatever kind of doctor does carpal-tunnel treatment and repetitive use injuries for the hands, since all kids do all day is type with their thumbs.

My face is drying up and peeling off, suddenly, with the change of seasons. It happens a little more significantly every year older I get. Unfortunately, though, menopause remains tauntingly out of reach.

I can't decide about the liquor in grocery stores bill. I tend to vote against whatever a big corporation is going for, on G.P. But all I've seen from the opposition is scare tactic-type ads, and those just make me mad. I know neither of these are good reasons or basis for choosing how to vote, but there you go.

I am sure that I'm voting for the Levar Burton guy. I loved him on Reading Rainbow.

My Bible Study group just finished studying the book of Esther, from the Old Testament. What a great story! Lots of good stuff there, especially for women I think. And it's a short one.

Knowing, as I do, that I have the best marriage in the world, it was funny to hear that my friend Bob thinks that he does. Huh.

prudence vs. paranoia

Our former Deacon (now Priest) was in town yesterday and came to visit me in the lovely YM center building. He had been a huge hit on one of our sophomore retreats last year, and he's an absolutely great guy. Now he's at a relatively tiny parish in another state, as Parochial Vicar. He has found himself to be the Youth Minister for the parish. I asked him how it was different, in a different diocese, insofar as the "child safety" paranoia.
He said it was really different. He said things were much more relaxed, and essentially that people weren't as on-edge there as they are here. They're not lax, they follow the common-sense guidelines of keeping doors open, they CORI teachers (but not every Tom/Dick/Harry that might pass by them in the church hallway). Where he is, they are fingerprinted, digitally (no pun intended), which means no re-doing it every year because they stay on record permanently.
The way he described things, it doesn't sound like much is different, technically- except the "feel" of it. He described a place that was safe, but not completely paranoid- concerned, but not hysterically afraid all the time. It sounded wonderful.
I keep waiting for things to calm down here, to return to a place of normalcy, for reason and logic to come back into the world around me. But it just seems to get worse and worse- more fear, more paranoia, more "the lawyers say"...
I believe in prudence, but I also believe that paranoia does more damage than good.

Here's what I did today.

Ellen. The View. Project Runway finale (congrats Jeffrey!), Gilmore Girls (I don't know if it's to be Christopher or Luke, but I do know I hate Luke's new hat), Ugly Betty, That's So Raven (I know, I know. I love that girl though!), Good Eats. Tonight's plans?
New Adventures of Old Christine (one night I said "I love her!" and Scott said "you ARE her!") Two and a half men, How I met your Mother, OR we may scrap the dvr'd sitcoms and go for The Uninvited, a 1944 ghost story. MMMM I love those black and white movies!
Did I say this blog was going to be about Youth Ministry?

Strike one against the plastic bag!!

I did it! One small step for (a) woman, one giant leap for conservation. Today I remembered to bring a bag with me to the grocery store, and bagged up my own groceries in it instead of using paper OR plastic! The nice woman at the ring-it-up-yourself lanes said some people do that, bring their own bags, and didn't look at me like a freak or anything. I felt very proud to be carrying my purchases (all in one bag) out to the car in my free-from-a-conference Harcourt Religion Publishers bag!!!
Now if I can remember to put it back in the car to use next time I go to the grocery store!

Boldness in Ministry

Several years ago, I went to a workshop at a national Youth Ministry conference. The speaker was great- she hit many nails on their heads in that workshop. One thing she said was ther she had become unafraid to be bold in her ministry, that is, in standing up for herself and her ministry- in speaking the truth and having confidence in herself, her skills, her calling.
All these years, I've been called a rebel and a trouble-maker. I've been... outspoken. But, I think, I've been really holding back. I've been afraid to stand up, all the way up, when I know I'm right. I was worried that I'd lose my job, that I'd ruin my chances at being hired again at another parish, that I'd stand myself up out of my vocation.
But, I'm tired of playing it safe. I am tired of holding back. I don't plan to go nuts, I am not embarking on a professional suicide mission, but I know this; I have been put into this life, this role, this job, for a reason. I am confident in my abilities and skills, and trust my calling. I'm going to pray first, then speak, and be bold.

I hate Halloween

The other day, some of the kids in my office said "what are you going to be for Halloween?" I said, "I hate Halloween." They said "WHAT??"
I really do hate Halloween. I've never been a huge fan, even from childhood, but over the years the minuses have outweighed the pluses by far.
When I was young, we didn't Trick-or-Treat, except maybe a stop at the neighbors' house - they were fundamentalist Baptists and could be trusted not to put anything unsavory in our bags. We went, always, to the elementary school Halloween party and played the games there, including the one where you'd fish over a wall and some prize would come back attached to your hook, and the one where you'd stick your hand through a hole and feel eyeballs (aka grapes). There was always a costume contest. I always worked hard to come up with a good costume, and gathered the props, etc... my brother would wait until the last minute, have no ideas, and then Mom would come up with something MUCH more creative than I had, and he would win the contest. Harumph. One year, I was Mary (of little lamb fame) and my brother was an octopus. My Mom stuffed four pairs of nylons with something, and strung them around his waist as octopus legs. Brilliant!
I told the kids that probably the reason I hate Halloween is that I lived in Salem for a while, and every year around this time, people would flock there to celebrate Halloween. These poor people looked so sad to me, all dressed in black and gloomy looking and they seemed to be searching for something. It was like the underside of religion, the anti-version of a church full of bright-eyed people dressed in white searching for something. But in Salem there was nothing to find but tourist traps and plastic souveniers. So sad!
And the traffic was ridiculous!!!
So, when Halloween comes around, I buy a bag of candy and go hide somewhere. It's not a big deal, I have some negative memories around Halloween time too, but I don't spiral into a depression or anything, I just ride it out. Next stop, Thanksgiving!

3 new posts

I have completely wasted this day. It is 3:52pm and I am still in my pajamas. Since it's a long weekend, I don't have to go in until the 6:00 Mass, so I have been (as my dad always said) "donking around" all day. I did take some nice photos, including this one which I think makes a nifty computer wallpaper:

but outside of that foray into the gorgeous weather out there, I have watched the movie Superstar (aka the Mary Catherine Gallager story. SO funny.) and now I'm watching an episode of Project Runway. I know! No nutritional value here at all. I was supposed to go grocery shopping with this extra time, I was supposed to go get cat food before the stores closed, I have a work project to work on... but instead I'm inside, in my pajamas, watching junk tv.
(How does that guy have tattoos all over this throat?? That must have KILLED!!)
But I am consoling (aka justifying) myself with the fact that now it's too late to get all that stuff done, so I may as well sit tight for the next episode of PR. (it's a marathon!!)
And, look, I've done 3 new blog entries! That's something, isn't it?

Oh No it IS NOT!

Yes, yes it is! It's a plastic shopping bag entwined in my poor, fruitless pumpkin plant. Now that's adding insult to injury!!

justice/revenge

Today I was listening to NPR, a show that was reviewing the week's news, and someone called in to say how we should all be noting and learning from the Amish's amazing behavior in light of the tragedy there. He noted that they are not on CNN raging and crying and calling for justice, they're not on websites asking for disaster relief... they are simply grieving, forgiving, and coping as a community. He said these were qualities that all Christians were taught, but rarely use.
I immediately thought of the families of those who died in the tragic Station Night Club fire. They constantly appear on television and call for "justice" and when the owners of the club weren't put in jail for life, they wailed that they wanted the owners to be punished, that they didn't think they had been punished enough for their mistake, and that until they spend their lives in jail, they won't feel like they've gotten justice for the deaths of their family members and friends.
Just recently when the owners were given their sentences, there was a lot of outrage, but I just felt sad. These men are not killers, and the fire was a horrible, tragic, accident. I don't see how going away to prison would help any of the victims' family members feel better, or mourn less. Does any sane person say, in their grief and loss, "well at least someone went to prison"? I don't see how making someone else suffer- justice. Where did we lose touch with what justice means? Who has taught us that it means equal pain?
When I'm home during the day I see ads for local lawyers that horrify me. They show people saying "My life was ruined because of someone's mistake. Now they're getting what they deserve". I think that's about the saddest thing I've ever heard.
I've been truly blessed in my life to not have been touched by close, personal tragedy, so maybe I don't know what I'm talking about. But my prayer is that when it does happen, on whichever end, (whether it's something that happens to me, or some mistake I make-)that true justice will be found in forgiveness and charity, not revenge or spite.

LOST!!!

As I write this, the season premiere of LOST is mere minutes away!!! Now that we know what the numbers mean, how will they play into the action? What are they going to do with our hostages?? Is Desmond dead?? Ecko?? WHAT DOES IT ALL MEANNNNN????
I can't WAIT!