Easy Seed is for Wimps

Yes! You can transplant grass! Of course you can, that's the whole idea of sod. You just cut it out, lift it up leaving an inch or two of dirt attached, and plant it where you've prepared the soil! It's incredibly... hard, back-breaking work. But so cool! We have some dead spots on the front lawn that we've tried seeding but have never had any luck with. Now there are oddly-shaped patches of thick, lush lawn and clover.

We harvested the lawn from the spot where we put in a raised bed. Cut the square, shovel underneath the dirt, roll up the grass, dig out the go-to spot, plop down the roll of grass, stomp on it, and water. It sounds so simple.
Ah well, as sore and tired as I am (and I AM) I am also pretty tickled and proud of myself and my new muscles. And the garden, and the new lawn. Here's a couple of pictures:

Why pray?

I love this image.
I don't know about you and your theology, but the fundamental God-question I wrestle with constantly is how God works/how prayer works.
I want to thank God for all the good things that happen to me, but I think... if I give God credit for the good things, don't I have a right to blame God for the bad things? But I don't want to do that- and, more importantly, I don't believe (or want to believe) in a God who does things to me, at all- good or bad. I do believe that God could do things to me, or, for me... but I find it harder and harder to believe that He does.
This image is right in line with my thinking. If God isn't going to help these people who are willing to die a very ugly death for Him, why would he give me sunny weather for my day off? He didn't save His own Son from crucifixion... what makes me think He will do my bidding?
But, I want to ask. I want to turn to God and ask for what I need- and Jesus told us to, for crying out loud... I have been told to pray and ask for God's will to be done. Fine, of course I want that (and I always have some suggestions about what God's will should be, in case He's curious) but, how can I think that my prayer will have any effect in God's will? I imagine God's will will be done, whether I pray for it or not. So I pray to God to conform my will to His. So far, I haven't seen much evidence of that prayer being answered in the affirmative.
The parent image is always the one I return to- and use my own parents as models for how it works, maybe. I know they have a will for how I'll live my life, but don't move to control it. I know they love and forgive me when I screw up. I know they would have loved to make my life in their care to be a wonderful, pain-free existence, but that they knew it wouldn't be good for me in the long run to live that way. I know they would love for me to turn to them in my sorrowful and fearful times, even if all they could do was love me through them.
But the problem remains; How to pray?
What used to be long chats with God in prayer come down now to three sentences:
Thank you God. (For Jesus, for my life, for whatever else!)
I love you, God. (because I do)
Conform my will to yours. (just in case)
But when the chips are down (or, the lions released) I still ask for help. I figure if Jesus can ask in the Garden of Gethsemane, I can too... (of course we all know how that turned out)

Happy Endings

Today I celebrate two happy endings. One is happy because it's ending, and the other just ended happily.
Today I emailed my final paper to my final professor. No, not forever-final, just final for the semester. And with that email I ended my 4th semester of grad school and begin a blissful summer vacation. Well, I won't be on actual vacation, I will still be working, but no more pencils, no more books.... Oh that reminds me, I have to return my library books.
Today, too, we ended the "season" of Generations of Faith, our faith formation program. We had a really great year, focused on evangelization and discipleship, where our goal was to train a parish full of evangelists, as my pastor says.
We finished the series with a big commissioning, and a good old fashioned procession and crowning of Mary. The older people swooned over the processions and the kids had a great time waving the streamers and flags as we walked to the park. We had a great time, and the staff really felt like something great had been accomplished.

We're celebrating this happy ending by coming home early- we were home by 6:30- that NEVER happens on a Sunday night! Usually it's because we go out to dinner after Mass and whatnot... so it's not a negative thing to come home later on Sundays but it is a pretty cool feeling to be home this early, while the sun is still up. After a crazy-busy and crazy-happy weekend of near-constant running around we settled into our happy places for dinner, and after a half-hour of sitting I stood up and felt every muscle in my body! But it's a good feeling, it means I'm alive and doing good work.

After a few years of the whole community model of faith formation, I would surely have a hard time going back to the traditional classroom model. It amazes me that more parishes haven't had the courage to move over to this model, and let go of the bookkeeper/bouncer/policeperson role that DRE's and sacramental coordinators are forced to play now. It's hard- yes! It's hard! Shouldn't doing ministry, bringing people to Christ and vice-versa, guiding young people into better relationship with God and the Church, be worth working hard for?

Next year for my internship, I'll be working along these very lines- designing and facilitating workshops for DRE's, Youth Ministers, and Sacramental Coordinators to help them jump out of the rut and look at their roles from a new viewpoint. I can't wait to get started on it...

Our Tree

Our tree is 121 years old.
Well, of course it isn't our tree, it's our landlord's tree, smack in the middle of her property. But our lives seem to circle this big leafy maple tree. It's the home-base of our yard and everything we do out there has some kind of glancing thing to do with the tree. Planting means we have to take care to notice where the massive shade falls throughout the day, and windy days mean moving the cars out from under its weakest limb, just in case. We lose the last few minutes of whatever we are listening to in the car when we pull in, because the tree blocks the satellite's beam. In a way we are more the tree's than the tree is ours.
It's inchworm season in our big tree, and there are tiny green nasties everywhere. Our cars are covered with their tiny but ubiquitous poops. On a very still day, sitting under the tree, you swear you can hear them chewing the leaves.
A few years ago the tree seemed really to be failing. We were worried and watched it for bad and good signs. One day as I was sitting on our porch I heard a clear, pure tone and turned to see our groovy neighbor, who was circling the tree and ringing a bell. He came up on the porch and told me that the bell was ancient, and that its tones would bring the tree's energies into alignment. For my part, I promised to say a Rosary for the tree, and I did. It seems to have bounced back with vigor since then, and who's to say why?
Today we spent the day raking underneath the tree and cleaning up the yard, pulling out tiny little maple progeny and mounting strings of lights on the tree's lower limbs. I cringe when a staple goes in, but the tree stands stoic and is beautiful. Tonight we'll light the lights and a fire in our fireplace under the tree, try to dodge the green worms and their ammunition, and strain to see the stars between the tree's beautiful branches.

Compare and Contrast

It's been a week of comparisons. On Tuesday night we went to visit with friends for dinner and laughs, people we haven't had a chance to visit with that way in so long. One couple has 4 kids, a big house, a crazy busy schedule- the other has one squiggly little one and two full-time youth ministry jobs. Our single friend is free and happy and full of joy. We had so much fun but at one point Scott said to me "you're being so quiet!" It was because I was soaking so much in- I couldn't help but think that I was getting a glimpse of what Might Have Been. If we had made different choices or if things had turned out differently, we could have had similar lives to these four friends. It was like visiting alternate universes.
But I was not only busy comparing our family lives with theirs, but to our ministry lives. They are all in Youth Ministry, which I am currently not- I'm still a little surprised about that- and it was so interesting to hear their stories and experiences. There is still so much frustration in the world of YM. I listened, fascinated by the things that stymie youth ministers in their efforts: parents, kids, money, parish politics, working with others... it's the same old story but I forget about these things since I am in Ministry Heaven at my parish. One reason I was quiet was because I remember being in frustration and hearing people's happy stories and feeling even less hopeful. I know I paid my dues and I know God has me on a temporary sabbatical before whatever comes next, but I don't want to forget how it felt to struggle like that.
Later this week, we attended a funeral for a woman who had 6 kids, 18 grandchildren, etc... we looked at a future that we can't have, and measured our lives against it. Who will be at our funerals? Who will take care of us when we're old? When this woman died, I remarked to Scott that it must be such a relief to know all the answers to these questions. Her husband had died 18 months before her and everyone worried. How long would she live? Could her family care for her? How would it all end? Now they know and it must be such a relief, it seems to me.
I know we're not supposed to compare ourselves with others, but how can we help it? The good news is, even though I know the people around me would say the same about their situations, I am glad to say that I like where we are and wouldn't change a thing.

First World Problems

Did you remember that the Mary Tyler Moore show was on Saturday night? It was before DVR's and even VHS machines. That means that even if you didn't have wonderful plans on a Saturday night, you'd have something great to watch on tv.
Now they don't even bother putting good shows on Saturday night. Woe unto those who have nothing banked in the DVR. What's on? HGTV renovation shows.
I get hives from watching these shows. I get completely annoyed with people who stress out over color choices, and cry over spilled paint and complain about having to stay up so late to get their free renovations finished.
These are First World Problems. Watching these shows I can't help but think about families all over the world who are living in refugee camps, wondering how they'll ever feed their children. I think of people who've lost everything in natural disasters. I think about people who have lost their jobs/income, and live in fear of their boiler breaking.
It truly is not worth crying over spilled paint. I can't muster a cell that cares about these people and their first-world-problems. I'd rather watch The Soup. But it reminds me of the inequities in this world that need to be addressed and people in need of my prayers.

checking in... more to come

Hello there. I know, I know I have been so absent from the blog... sorry about that! I went last week to Las Vegas for the NCCL conference, which was really wonderful. We all agreed that the presenters were smart and current and academic, and that the conference was full of great information and inspiration and very little fluff. We all came away inspired and excited and raring to go.
In the meantime, we had fun checking out the strip and eating great food and all that. I, unfortunately, came down with a WICKED stomach bug on Monday (second day there) and after bolsting from my workshop and losing my lunch all up and down a conference center hall, I was pretty much down for the count for a day or two. I rallied enough at one point to go and convalesce at the pool, which was lovely... and then forced myself to crawl back to living little by little. I was as sad to miss the workshops, which were excellent, as I was to miss the food and fun.
Once I get my bag of free things sorted out, I'll write more about the actual information part of the conference, so do stay tuned.

Nothing of Substance

A thousand apologies to my loyal readers (both of you!) for my seriously lax blogging habits. Lent flew by in a crazy flash and then Holy Week, well... I'm still catching my breath from it. Plus, I was trying to be a daily-ish blogger for the parish, and with all that, you poor readers had to suffer the loss. I am sorry.
But now it's Monday and still Easter, and my classes are nearing their end, and there's only one more GOF session (and it's going to be AWESOME) and a week from now I'll be in (hopefully) sunny Las Vegas at the NCCL conference. My papers, due this week, are done, and I'm even practically caught up on my reading. Life is indeed good.
This weekend we went to a small graveside funeral in a city-cemetery, and marveled at the non-Catholicity of it all. The graves there lacked the big crazy gothic statues and crosses seen at Catholic cemeteries, and instead were all engraved with personal symbols like... shamrocks and boats. One gravestone had a Betty Boop figure engraved in it. What's that about? The graves all had stuff on them, too- plastic toys and little statues and stuff. The funeral was nice enough, with scripture readings and such, and the protestant minister who did it was lovely. He wore a stole with a pointy back which, when the wind blew, would pop up behind his head and make him look like something out of Star Wars.
We took advantage of the beautiful weather and ran home to plant pansies and do some yard cleanup and then sacked out on the couch for the rest of the night, in preparation for the crazy Sunday ahead.
See, I have nothing of substance to write about, but this is what you get I guess. I have to admit I am looking forward to a week of nothing of substance to write about! Ahhhh Easter/Spring!!!

We are Easter People

Ahhhhhh Easter. The best day of the year.

This Holy Week, as a person with no discernible job description, my role at the parish was to do... well, whatever. I spent the week carrying donated flowers from the rectory to the sacristy, cleaning out pews between Masses, making sure the Magnifikids were out for each liturgy, putting things in places and taking a lot of pictures. I am the de facto photographer for the parish, which is a really fun job. At the beginning of every event, the pastor says to me "are you going to take pictures for the bloggggg?" meaning the parish blog... and then I dart around trying to get artsy shots while remaining unobtrusive.

On Friday I had the job of moving the line along for the veneration of the cross. I stood opposite the deacon and tried to inspire people in two lines to take turns approaching the cross, in orderly fashion. I was in the position to witness beautiful expressions of reverence and love for the rough wooden cross that was held lovingly (and achingly! It's heavy!) in place by four teenage boys. Young people curtsied in front of the cross, adults reached out to touch it, but the elderly people- they struggled to kneel and to bend to kiss it, and then struggled to rise again. It was such a lovely and inspiring thing to witness. I am so fortunate.

Last night as people gathered around the fire in the back of the church, I crept out into the sanctuary in bare feet, to stand in the dark in front of the altar to take pictures. I alone got to witness the stunning beauty of the light being passed throughout the church, and the people moving slowly back to their seats with lit candles. It was such a special, secret blessing for me.

Now, today, the most beautiful day so far (it's in the 70's at 5:00!) we woke to have cinnamon rolls and iced coffee on the porch in the sun. Now after gorging on cheese and crackers Scott is snoozing on the porch and I am still in my pajamas, looking for great Roast Beef recipes. I found one that calls for bacon! Bonus!

Tomorrow the world starts up again but today, there is only pure joy and refreshing renewal, peace and happiness in our lovely lives and the Good News. Happy Easter!

Simple Woman's Day Book

Simple Woman's Day Book
FOR TODAY 03/27/10...
Outside My Window... After a lovely few days of warmth and sun and balmy breezes, now it's cold and raw again. I'm glad I resisted the urge to uncover the garden beds!
I am thinking... about putting in a raised bed this year, over by the side of the yard. I bought pea seeds and spinach seeds today, and now all I need is wood and lotsa dirt... and another day off. And some sun. And some energy.
I am thankful for... the fact that Easter is almost here. I can't believe Lent is almost over, and here we are at April's door and Easter just around the corner. Time is racing by, and true to Lenten form, I am completely exhausted.
From the kitchen... Scott just whipeed up a sausage stir fry, and I'm going to have some as soon as I whip up the energy to go get it. I'm dreaming of our Easter dinner, which every year is a roast beef with lots of veggies, hollandaise sauce (or is it bernaise, I always forget which is which, it's the one without the little green bits in it) for the meat, and various other treats. One year I made Yorkshire pudding, that was cool and I was super impressed with myself.
I am wearing... jeans and my favorite shirt, a plain navy blue long sleeved shirt, it's nothing to speak of but for some reason I love it. I'm also cuddled up in my sleeping bag on my favorite chair. Yum. Cozy.
I am creating... not much lately! Just lots of reading and writing for work and school. But I'm totally "pre-writing" a book.
I am going... to Vegas with our faith formation staff in April, to the NCCL conference there. And SO looking forward to it.
I am reading... that is, I should be reading, right now, lots of stuff about the beginnings of the CCD in Europe, and such. Lately we've been looking at Paulo Friere's Pedagogy of the Oppressed, Women's Ways of Knowing... good stuff.
I am hoping... that the yuckiness I am feeling does not develop into a real cold. I don't have time for a cold, it's HOLY WEEK!
I am hearing... a whooshing sound in my head, that has been there all day. Scott says it's high blood pressure but I don't have HBP. Maybe it's my red blood cells fighting mightily against this marauding cold!
Around the house... everyone here is reclining.
One of my favorite things... is Easter Sunday. It's my favorite HolyDay, and also my favorite day overall. The Good News PLUS a day off (and I mean OFF) after a crazy, hectic week of hard work. We traditionally stay home, get new pajamas, crack open some wine and eat the aforementioned deliciousness. We don't go anywhere and try not to talk with anyone either. It's bliss.
A Few Plans For The Rest Of The Week: Oh heck it's going to be busy. Our staff really does work as a team so we will all be involved in making Holy Week happen, from stem to stern, little details to large projects. It's fun, too.
Here is picture thought I am sharing.
I left my rain boots out in the rain. Is that irony?

Here it goes, here it goes, here it goes again.

Last week for St. Joseph's day (because he is the patron saint of our marriage- yeah, sure you can do that!) we went to Mass at a local parish (not ours... our daily Mass is at 6:30AM!!) and then to lunch to celebrate. After Mass we were all invited to feast on Zeppoles, a traditional St. Joseph's day pastry. The hostess was a Sister of St. Joseph. After chowing down on a delicious pastry we introduced ourselves to the Sister, who asked where we work. She said "oh, a lot of people who left here because of the abuse scandal moved to your parish."
I asked how things were going in the parish now, and she said "well, people have long memories, and rightly so. It's been hard." I guessed that it must be re-opening the wounds, the news we are hearing now from Ireland and Germany and the Church. She said "I just can't stand it."
I wanted to hug her and have a good cry with her. In that quick statement she sighed what I think so many people feel.
I know many people who, without actually asking me, I know want to know how I can stay in a church Like This. A church that has hurt so many people, a church that still can't seem to face its own sins while condemning the sins of others. And it's a question I've asked myself (and my patient spiritual director) many times. I think it's a question all Catholics must ask ourselves. And ultimately, I don't know what the future holds for this church. But for now, for this day, I don't want this church that I love to have one less person like me. I don't want there to be one less person than there is now who will ask themselves that question, who will listen critically to the news, who will teach faithfully the Good News (because there is, after all, still Good News). I don't know if I'm a very big part of the solution (I hope so though), and I feel quite sure that I'm not part of the problem, but I am not willing to not be part of the equation.

Spring spring sprinnnnnggggg

It's been raining a lot here. For... well, forever. Okay, not really- but long enough for people to start making Ark jokes, for people near rivers to watch them nervously, for anyone with a basement to put on waterproof boots and think about buying a sump pump.
It's been nasty, driving, whipping rain and wind. The kind that soaks you, even if you're only out in it to get from the house to the car, or the car to the house. A girl in one of my classes said "where I come from the rain just comes down, none of these left- and right- and up directions!!"
The other day when I was driving home through this rain, I drove under an overpass and suddenly, maybe for two seconds, it was silent. I hadn't even noticed, really, the sound of the rain hammering on the roof of my car, until it was suddenly... gone. And then back again. That silence was so surprising and thrilling that I wanted to turn back and park under that overpass until the rain stopped, until the rest of the world was that dry and quiet.
And today, it was sunny and warm- and dry. I can feel my body relax and respond to the feel of warm sun, to the no-longer need to curl up into myself and wrap myself against the cold. This time of year, as I get to shed each layer of winter clothing, I'm like a caterpillar coming out of my cocoon. I want to notice and appreciate every degree of warmth, every new bit of green. I love Spring.

What the bic??

I realize that a good fraction of my posts revolve around grocery shopping. I hope you don't mind.
Today I went in search of razor blades. I have had a Venus razor handle for... well, probably longer than I've been married. It came with a holder for the shower, and it was handy. I only ever had to buy the blades, which were then neatly kept in the shower holder thingy.
But now, you can't just get the blades. Now, the blades come with goo on the sides, or some such thing that may be nifty but means they won't fit in the holder. And they keep adding blades! I saw one today with FIVE blades. WHO needs five blades?
And did I mention the COST??? There is no option available under 10.00. At Stop & Shop, they keep them in plastic boxes that the staff has to open with plastic keys, they are THAT valuable.
Well today I drew the line and bought some other-kind-of-razors. Complete, with handles. This was no easy task either, since all I wanted was something between the one-blade shredders and the 5 blade cadillacs. I saw some, I kid you not, with citrus-scented handles.
Scott has told me that more than a few times, he has found himself helping old men in the drug store to navigate the razor choices. I felt for them today. I long for the simpler days.

Just ASK.

I think I picked the wrong word-of-the-year. Remember? It was "REACH." But all signs seem to be pointing in a completely different direction.
Last time I met with my spiritual director, she challenged me to sit in the moment, despite the fact that I had just told her that I don't like doing that. And in our ongoing conversations, she repeatedly is reminding me to ASK God what it is that I want to know, rather than just musing over things, or jumping to conclusions.
On another note, I keep hearing myself say to the staff members around me "just ASK someone to help!" It's part of my "give and let give" experiment, and part of God reminding me, I think, that He has plans for people besides me. I don't want to get in the way between God and God's plan for a person, just because I am afraid to ASK.
So, I think my word for the year is... SEEK. Just kidding, it's ASK. I'm going to be unafraid to ask questions when I'm confused, to ask for help from others when I need it, to ask people to take a step or a leap toward serving God better at church, and in the world.
So watch out! I may have something to ASK you!

Looky!!!! Loooooookyyyyy!!!

Tell me about the God You Don't Believe In

In my first year of grad school, I took a foundational Theology class. One day my professor listed some famous atheists, and described their theories of why God doesn't exist. After explaining them all, she asked for thoughts. I raised my hand and said "it seems to me that before their unbelief came belief- a belief in a God of a particular type- that is, they imagined who God was, or who God should be, before deciding that God wasn't what they thought He should be."
Atheism is fascinating to me, in much the same way as walking a tightrope without a net. Aside from my love of God and real feeling of God's love for me, I acknowledge that to live without the comfort of believing that there is more than this would make me panic. In a real way, I need to believe that there is more, better, waiting for me and for my loved ones, or I don't know how I'd get through life. And I do believe it, and it does guide the way I live.
I remember in my mid-twenties, realizing that I just shouldn't call my mother when I was upset about something. As lovely a person as she is, she just couldn't give me what I wanted when I was sad. I wanted "poor baby" and she could only give me "get over it." It isn't her fault, it is just who she is. It was my ability to shift my understanding of her that set me free from constantly being disappointed in her, and to know her better- who she really is.
In the same way, I remember just a few years ago, having an epiphany driving in to work one day. I was thinking back at some of the very tough times and difficult experiences that I'd gone through in ministry, and realizing how much I had learned. But the big AHA was this: all that time, when I had been asking God to fix things and make my life easier and more pleasant, He was instead, teaching me. I had been looking for a God that would rescue me from pain, and He had been, all the time, a God who was a mentor- a teacher and companion.
Again, it was me who changed- I was the one who realized that I had tried to imagine God in my own image, to fit my desires. It would be comforting to have a God that supplies all our wants- but instead I know that God was relating to me in a way that I truly need. Every week at Mass we recall the persecution, suffering, death and resurrection of Jesus. It occurs to me: if God wasn't a God who would intervene to stop the suffering of His own Son, why did I think He should intervene to stop mine? Realizing this about God set me free from constantly being disappointed in Him, and to know God better- who S/He really is.
Don't get me wrong, I would love a pain-free life. But now I am comforted by the belief that God mourns when I mourn, laughs with (and at) me, and reveals God's self to me through everything I experience. It has changed my prayer life- I don't really ask God for things in prayer anymore, but rather I turn to Him to share my life with someOne who loves me infinitely. I am still learning about God.

Bad Attitude.

I have a bad attitude about Grad School this semester. My classes are fine, but only one of them is really thrilling me to any extent. They both involve a lot of busy-work, and that frustrates me. I resent having to take time away from work to study something that doesn't support my work, like the stupid Holistic Formation nonsense that I've mentioned here before. Last week at HoFo we had to color symbols about our inner and outer lives on paper and make them into mobius strips, and it was all I could do to keep from spraining my eyeballs, in keeping them from rolling.
Plus, I'm getting tired of having something to do all the time. I bought yarn to make a scarf a couple of weeks ago, and haven't even started it because every time I sit still enough to crochet, I should be reading.
I know, Wahhhh.
I dunno. Maybe next semester will be more enthralling. At least then HoFo will be out of my way. Ah look, now it's too late to do all that reading. Tomorrow, then.

Light a Candle For Me

Today, in the middle of a baptism ceremony, I was outside the doors of the chapel waiting for the last stragglers to arrive. An older man approached me and said "where can I light a candle?" I said "I'm so sorry, but we don't have candles to light here." I explained that the bank of prayer candles that we had before had burned, and now we don't have it. (So many church fires have started from those candles. It seems like every church I know has had a fire or two from those candles. It must be impossible for churches to be insured to have those candles anymore.) He said "What?? No candles to light?" I said "no, I'm sorry, but it burned down!" (this was a bit of an exaggeration- there was a fire, but it was extinguished pretty quickly, from what I'm told. But I wanted him to know that we didn't take the candles out just for the heck of it, but only because it's dangerous.)
He was angry! He said "have things changed that much??? This is the third church I've visited, and the other two were locked!!! What the heck?!?!"
I was stuck. I understand wanting to light a candle. But here we were, just outside of the baptism, and I was suddenly having to explain to this man, who clearly hadn't been in a church in many years, who desperately wanted to light a candle for his prayer. I just said "I'm so sorry. I'll pray for you." He harumphed and headed to the elevator.
I love the act of lighting a candle, love the symbolism of it, and do it whenever I get the chance, in the churches we visit on our days off. But the candle, well, it's just a symbol. The important part of the whole thing is the prayer! He could have just dropped to his knees in that hallway (or stayed standing, for crying out loud) and prayed to God and it would have been just as much of a prayer as the lighting of those candles.
It's so easy to get into habits in prayer- I can certainly relate to that. And in a church with lots of rules and rituals, it's easy to land on those rather than remember that God just wants to hear from us- with a candle, with a rosary, with a cry, with a song, with a letter... with a plea for help from behind the steering wheel. I know that man felt frustrated today, and I know I didn't help him, but I also know that God heard his prayer, candle or no.

Friend Your Parish!

I got asked again the other day about Facebook in ministry- it's something I get asked about a surprising amount. I am sort of the Social Media Minister at our parish, updating our parish Facebook page, Twitter account, and blog. People want to know if we've had any problems with it, if we feel comfortable and safe using technology, with all its risks. They want to know how we keep our privacy protected.
When I started my Facebook account, I never dreamed that it would become a place where I would interact with my friends. I opened it as a means of contacting kids, who nowadays never read email, never answer phone calls, and don't seem to be even aware that there is such a thing as mail. It seems that if you want to contact kids, you'd better have access to Facebook. In fact, I recommend to parents that once their kids are in college, Facebook will be the best way to reach their kids, because they check it and update it constantly.
Since then, I've found friends from my 4th grade class on Facebook, and a lot of my peers and friends now are on it. I know Youth Ministers who have two Facebook identities, one that is open to their kids/parishes, and one that is for their personal friends. I can certainly understand that. As for me, having my parish members accessing my page keeps me honest- and keeps me from saying anything too outrageous on my status updates. I don't particularly want pictures of me on the internet if they're inappropriate for a kid to see, anyway.
I love the way Facebook helps me connect with people, love how soon I know about important news in the parish, how easy it is to reach out to people in important moments. When a teenager in our parish had a car accident, we knew right away. When kids' Grandparents die, we can send condolences. When someone has a birthday, we can send blessings. Ironically, our community is more inter-engaged with facebook than we ever were before.
I do see the danger in this, the grey-able boundaries. But I also know that interactions between people on Facebook are traceable, recordable. There's actually a layer of safety there that is missing in phone conversations.
And now the Pope recommends that priests start blogging and looking at social media as a means for spreading the Gospel. I agree with the Pope. How about that!!
I know that new technologies arouse suspicion in every generation. I keep thinking about Katie the housekeeper in Meet Me In St. Louis, who mistrusted the telephone. Her line "Personally, I wouldn't marry a man who proposed to me over an invention" is an echo of people's current concerns about Facebook, I think. So friend your parish, follow its Twitter Feed, and check its blog often! Be connected!

Scandal-itis

Busy week! We hosted the Called and Gifted workshop at our parish this week, with much success. I have a ton to blog about, including the fact that when I picked up one of the speakers at the airport, she said "do you by any chance have a blog?" Yikes! It never did become clear whether or not she really had seen my blog, but I have, I'm sure, mentioned their Institute before, so if they are in the habit of self-googling, they could certainly have come up with this little rag. Anyway, there's my brush with fame. (Hi Sherry!)
The workshop was wonderful, and has people in the parish intrigued, inspired, and wanting more. But an equally interesting part of the week for me was hearing from these mid-and western-ers, their observations about Boston; as a town, and as an Archdiocese. It was a little bit like bringing friends from college home with me on break, and suddenly seeing my family through their eyes.
The first night, I went to dinner with Fr. Mike, one of the directors of the Institute, and one of the things he asked me was how the Archdiocese is doing since the Scandal. I told him that basically we all are in a state of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder- we've all gone on with our lives and ministries, but nothing really is untouched or un-influenced by what we went through. There is still a real sense of paranoia, which makes every church employee aware of how whatever they're doing, might be construed by someone, as inappropriate. This, among other symptoms, is the legacy of our Scandal.
But as the week went on, I thought a lot about his question, and what he and Sherry, the other Siena Director, might be observing and thinking about us. I started to wonder- is it just me? Am I the only one with this paranoia? Am I the only one who flinches when I hear the Archdiocese mentioned on the news?
At the end of the week, and out to dinner again with our speakers, the topic came up again. I said "I think it would be shocking to anyone around here, to know that people who lived away from here during the height of the Scandal, don't realize how traumatic it was." It seems to me that people who lived elsewhere considered this an awful thing in the news, terrible to consider, but they don't seem to have that PTSD that we have. The other dinner companions confirmed that it really was traumatic in the midst of it, and that the legacy continues for us. Sherry, on our way out of the restaurant, admitted that she was surprised to hear the lingering pain. She said "I guess I kind of figured that people around here would be over it." Really, a shocking statement to me. I guess only those of us who went through it know how little actual healing work was done by the Archdiocese, back then and since then. But I told Sherry that it's an important reality for people to know about if they're going to work in the area.
At dinner that night, Fr. Mike said something about how, to be fair, the Bishops were responding to the "experts" who told them that the abusers would be fine. I acknowledged that we all knew that to be true, and that we know things were different back in the 60's, that we know much more now... but what I wish I'd said was this: be careful about how quickly you settle on that as an excuse. Every horrible stage in history, every movement that victimized people, had experts who said things were okay. But at some point, leaders have to take responsibility. Ours should have. The fact that times were different back then is true, but not a good enough excuse.
The week still has me thinking about this, still looking at our lives from the outside perspective and wondering, is it just me? Is this feeling of PTSD just something that parish ministers are feeling? Am I just holding grudges? I'd love to be "over it." Am I the last one to feel the legacy of the Scandal?