The thing is...

One of my classes this semester is called "Psychology of Religious Development." We've looked at the major developmental theories and theorists, and are just now getting to the Big Names in faith development, Fowler and Parks. Time and time again, we come to the conclusion that in order for adults to grow in faith, they need faith experiences (as opposed to dogmatic instruction) and relationship (as opposed to reading, for instance, or... dogmatic instruction).
Then of course, the question becomes: how does a church do this? How does an institutional church manage to help all its adult members have conversion experiences, have religious experiences, form deeper relationships with God? We agree that it's a hard thing to do, agree that most parishes seem to be fine with their adults lingering forever in a low-to-middlin' level of faith, and that it's easiest for parishes to provide quantitative programs like dogmatic instruction, and hard to guage progress in such a qualitative goal such as these.
So today, a class member said "well right now, parishes in Boston are participating in this wonderful program, RENEW."
I rolled my eyes.
This year everyone who's participating in the Renew/Arise program has been raving about it, and... I believe them. I'm sure it's a great program, a great opportunity for people to share faith, meet new people, grow in faith. But I also believe that all the other panaceas (Alpha, Small Faith Communities, Life-Nights, Disciples in Mission, etc.) have just as much value. None is significantly different from the others (and all of them are basically copies of good ol'fashioned YOUTH GROUP models tweaked for adults) and all of them come to an end.
The thing is, all of these are great programs. But they're temporary, and don't address the Big Issue. These programs are great for the joiners in the parish, but don't address the seekers who won't go to a program. They teach people to share faith, but once they're over, they're over. Parishes who will gladly rave about their successful Renew programs won't, in any other way, address the idea that adults faith formation should be their focus, won't stop pouring their resources into elementary-level CCD programs. The paradigm needs to be addressed in order to make efforts like Renew (and all the others) have sticking power. In my opinion.
It's like the alcoholic who takes up yoga. Sure, she feels stretchier and lither, but the systemic issue is still there, keeping her back from true health.
I almost wrote "but hey, it's better than nothing!" but it's not. These band-aid programs keep the church busy and keep them from addressing the systemic issue, because they look like they're doing something.
Beware the brand-name program... work to change the paradigm.

from all the birds at our house to yours

Make a Smilebox greeting

What if I'm a jerk?

Sometimes, usually after a big event or social thing, I start to wonder... what if I was a jerk? I look back over my conversations and interactions with people and worry: was my response snippy? Did what I say make someone feel bad? What if I missed a grimace in response to something I said? Oh shoot. Should I call them and ask if I was a jerk when we were together? If I wasn't, they'll say "why would you think that?" and I will have to give them an example of when I thought I might have been acting jerky. Then, maybe, they'll realize what a jerk I was, even though they hadn't noticed it before. Maybe it's best not to bring anything up.
After my wedding, I worried that maybe I'd missed someone, or turned away from someone before they were done speaking to me, or didn't pay enough attention to someone. I worry that my bridesmaids might have been miserable, or my parents might have felt neglected. I dunno.
Well, I hope I'm not a jerk. If anyone out there has noticed me being jerky, break it to me gently, will ya?

Amen Sister!

I'm just home from a trip to the homeland, an annual trip with my sisters for earl Christmas shopping and crafting. We eat great food, follow each other on errands, we gossip and laugh a lot. We tell lots of stories. We check our impressions of how things are with each other, and reckon our memories against each other's.
Last week at HoFo, someone with only one sibling asked me what it was like to grow up in a large family. She said "did you never get lonely, did you always have someone to talk to?" I remember that there was always at least someone at home, and if there wasn't always someone to talk to, there were always tales to listen to. I told my HoFo group how much I loved to get hand-me-downs from my sister, because they had cool clothes that I would never be able to buy for myself. Getting a pile (or garbage bag) of clothes from them meant I was getting older, coming closer to who they were, closer to a time when I could wear colors and styles beyond what seemed like constant brown nylon.
Now that we're all older, I can see more and more how alike we are, the way our DNA is distributed among us, and how being children of our parents has formed us into the people we are today. We're different from each other, too- but you can't miss that we're related. Together with honorary sister, we have a lot of fun and share a lot of memories. I look forward to this trip every year.
Now I'm home again (jiggety-jig) and waiting for Scott to gt home from his junior-senior retreat and tomorrow morning we launch into another crazy week. Suddenly now it's almost Thanksgiving and almost time for snow and almost time for Advent and Christmas. The leaves are all off the trees lining the highway and now I can see all the orange bittersweet that has been hidden underneath. I love Bittersweet, and love the idea of it growing in amongst the green leaves all Summer, and then showing itself in big orange clouds in the trees and brush when this time of year rolls around. It's a bittersweet time of year.

buncha half entries

Maybe it's just a busy time (it is) but I find myself writing half-blog-entries in my head constantly but nothing complete. So I figure I'll regale you with half-entries.
For about two weeks now I've had this spot on my left foot that would suddenly feel like it was heating up. A strange hot spot, just erupting there every several minutes, and then subsiding. Sometimes it felt so hot that I wanted to take off my shoes. But it didn't feel hot to the touch.
As I am always hoping for signs of menopause I kinda hoped I was having a weird hot flash, but then I heard an interview with a woman from Canada who suffered from MS. She said her first symptom was "hot knees." So I've been pretty sure over the last week or so that I have a brand new case of MS, and thought even more seriously than usual about considering taking some kind of exercise. You know, while I could.
Good news! The heat is gone. Now I don't have to work out!
~
I think the most profound thing my mother ever told me was "don't wish away time." It's profound to me, because I think my Mom does that very thing... and also I do it. I'm always looking ahead to some future date, some future thing (like menopause!). All through my first few years of ministry I couldn't wait to have enough years of experience under my belt that I'd feel credible- and always looked forward to looking closer to my age, for crying out loud... I always have looked young, at least since I've been old enough to look one way or another. It's the same thing, a wish to look credible- there's something about a young adult youth minister that seems to scream "I don't know what I'm doing, really!" I also really hate being new at things, in places. So I'm always anxious to get some time behind me, so that I'll know I've made it.
When I was a kid, it would take me forever to walk home from school. I'd stop here and there, visit the neighborhood dogs, linger on the path. But if there was bad news (a bad grade, something I was in trouble with, I would race home, even despite my best efforts to stall. I just wanted to get things over with. I guess I still operate that way.
~
Well, there's two half-things anyway. Does that count for one full blog post? I'll try to do better, people.

Oh, hey! Are you still here?

Ah, public, sorry about the lack of posts lately! It's nothing personal, I've just been busy writing (and reading) for school. But here I am!!! Thanks for waiting!
School lately has had my head spinning. In a good way! Even in HoFo today I heard myself say something pretty profound. But also, every Tuesday night at the parish, I've been leading a really enjoyable (at least to me!) Lectio Divina group based on the upcoming Sunday Gospel reading. We call it Sunday Lex, which is why people seem confused about when to show up...
Anyway, tonight we looked ahead to this Sunday's Gospel reading from Mark, the story of the scribes' hypocrisy vs. the widow who gave her all (two small coins). We talked about whether or not Jesus' lesson in these stories is about complete surrender. We all confessed to being non all-givers, non complete-surrender-ers. We talked about how we decide how to give money to a cause, for instance (from our surplus, like the scribes? To God, like the widow?).
I told the group about a man who stood up at a parish adult faith formation class and told everyone that he got a letter in the mail from some organization, telling him that giving money to them was like giving money to God- that any money he sends them, God would repay many times. He told us proudly that he did send a lot of money to them, and continues to do so, and it always does come back, somehow.
I remember standing at the front of that room, looking at him, and thinking "oh that poor man is being robbed!" But in a way, I didn't want to challenge him because he was giving out of great faith.
The question I ended up facing then was, Am I smarter than he is, or is his faith stronger than mine?
I think I've written her about when I was a kid and we went to Mass at St. John's, a tall, Gothic-looking church, and thought I might be able to fly. It was probably during the homily... I remember thinking. "God can do anything. He said faith the size of a mustard seed can move mountains. If I have enough faith right now, and I stand up, right now, in front of all these people in this non-standing moment of the Mass, I bet I could fly."
But, I didn't stand up. I remember feeling ashamed that I didn't have enough faith to try it out. Since then I've wondered, was I really talking about trusting God, or testing Him? Was I logical and smart not to stand up, or was I weak weak weak in faith?
I don't have a good summary statement with which to end this entry. I think I'll be chewing on it all week. Learning to surrender to God is a process that I am constantly, constantly wrestling with. God is teaching me how to do that, and why I should do that, one struggle at a time. But I'm still not giving away all I have, and I'm still not standing up to see if I could fly during Mass... I'm not sure I ever will be able to do that, and I'm not sure if that's what God is asking of me.

Recipes

I read a lot of recipe blogs. I don't do a lot of cooking, mind you, but I do save a list of great recipes that I want to try, someday, when I get the time.
One of my pet-peeves is people who offer great recipes, but before you get to the recipe you have to read a whole intro about how their husband used to hate some food before they tried this recipe, or about their Nana who used to make it on a wood stove in a sweltering kitchen on hot Summer days, or whatever. I always somehow get trapped into reading the first parts of these posts, and then shake my head and scroll down. Just get to it! I'll make my own story about cooking it!
Now that you've read my introduction, here is one of my favorite recipe sites: www.tastespotting.com

Give and LET Give.

The other night, on my way somewhere, I found The Choice on CBC on my satellite radio. This is some kind of a rerun show, where listeners or radio people can request a replay of some great favorite show of theirs.
This episode featured Margaret Visser, who has a new book out about gratitude. She was talking about how gratitude is expressed in different cultures, and about the trickiness of the whole gratitude thing. It was fascinating stuff (and you can hear it on itunes by searching for "CBC Listener's Choice" and looking for the Sept. 18 2009 episode) and I haven't been able to shake it since then. It's given me a lot to think about.
One of the things this strangely-spoken woman said was "Give and Let Give." Wow, easier said than done, right? If you're like me, the Give part is easy- it's the LET Give that is hard.
I thought of how often I've been asked by someone at work "can I help you with that? Anything I can do to help? Want me to do anything?" and my response is always an instant "oh no, I'm all set!" It's almost like a reflex- I don't even think about how this person could help me, and I'm somehow ashamed for them even thinking that I might want to trouble them, ask them to do something that I should be doing.
But on the other side of this, I am often the one asking that question. Is there anything I can do to help? And here's the kicker: when I offer to help, it's because I want to help!
My Mom recently told me that she was struggling because she needed grocery shopping done, and didn't want to call someone to drive her to the store. I reminded her that she had a list of people who had offered to do that very thing while my Dad was recovering from his recent knee surgery (he's doing great, by the way!). She said "well we can't ask people to do things every day." But the more I think about it, the more I think she's wrong about that. I think people who offer to help would love nothing better than be taken up on that offer. We all like to be helpful, to be needed, to feel like we have aided someone in need.
But if it's my reflex to deny the little offers of help that come every day, like an offer to help me clean up a kitchen, or move a table, or assemble home kits for the church, how am I going to develop any ability to graciously accept help when I really need it? And especially with church, I think it's probably important to let people help- it reminds me of the pastor in Kansas who tells his staff that if we are not asking people to serve at the parish, we are getting in the way of the Spirit for these people. I bet the Spirit can work through even assembling kits and moving tables- how, I don't know- but God is God and I am not.
So I'm going to practice. The next time someone offers to give me a hand with something, even if I don't need their help, technically, I'm going to look for a way to let them help me. Who wants to help?

Scenes from a Fall

It's the most beautiful time of the year up here on the hill. The birds know it, and the trees know it.




































And on an unrelated note, could you study with this kind of pressure??

What a pain...

My doctor told me once that I have a high tolerance for pain. It was a relief to be "diagnosed" this way, because I never had really known how to handle pain- I'm never sure when it's bad enough to be complained about. The doctor told me that when I went in because my back was out.
I had heard about backs going out, but until mine really went out, I knew what people meant by "out." I had been sleeping on a board, because our bed was old and way too squishy. (Really, a BOARD!) When the doctor asked how long I'd had back pain, I said "well, I guess about 4 years or so." I guess most people address things like this before 4 years go by.
Now my back is out again, but still it's hard to know how to address it. I mean, I feel fine unless I move or sneeze or have to lean one way or another. And even though it feels like stabbing when it happens, it only lasts a minute or so. So I'm being a good soldier, and taking Aleve, and hoping it'll right itself.
Or maybe I'll see a chiropractor. My sister says that no chiropractor will ever tell anyone that they don't need chiropractic care. At the fair this week I had free assessment from one in the "trade hall," one of my favorite buildings there... it's the one where they sell the Sham-wows and the sandpaper hair- remover pads... the chiropractor said that I carry 12 more pounds on my right foot than my left, and noticed that my right shoulder is significantly lower than my left- which I knew, it's been that way since my rainbow-colored book bag from high school.
I thought my surgery would really help my back, and I think it actually has- but surprisingly I have had to relearn how to sit and stand, because my posture is really really different now.
You know what else though? Here's something really painful: the Cleveland Show. Wow, it is a stinker.

Mickey Mouse

I'm a half-a**ed crafter. I do not come by my skill-less-ness honestly- my mother has always been a gifted crafter- she majored in Home Economics, and was an expert sewer and knitter. All my life we had homemade sweaters and mittens. I never did learn to do either, despite a few attempts. I had some success on the Knitting Knobby, making throw rugs for my Barbies, but when I tried knitting with actual needles I didn't get far before I sat on my needles and broke them. In my own home ec. class, I picked out a pattern for some cool diaper-design shorts. These were shorts that were all one piece- when you put them on, you kind of tied the back on, and then put the rest through your legs and tied them on in the front. Like a diaper. Surprisingly, I can't find a link to anything like them online to post here, so you'll have to use your imagination. Anyway, I got about halfway through making them and lost interest. I somehow finished them enough to get through the class but never did wear them.
But as an adult I tried a few things, and over the years my crafting gene has blossomed a bit. I did cross-stitch for a stretch in my 20's, and wasn't too bad at that. I learned to crochet through a mini-course at my parish. A lovely woman there volunteered to teach us to make baby blankets for hospitalized children. My first one turned out so bad, and I am NOT making this up, that they wouldn't let me give it to a baby. One of the kids in the mini-course said "well, they could give it to a blind baby!" I've gotten better at crocheting since then, although I only really know how to do one stitch.
A few years ago, Scott bought me a sewing machine for Christmas. It's a simple one, and I like using it, but I have no idea what I'm doing. I actually altered a bridesmaid dress a few years ago, despite having no right to think I could do such a thing. It held through the reception though and I saved a LOT of money doing it myself. This weekend I found a great tip for how to hem pants. I did my new jeans and a couple other pairs of pants, and they came out pretty good, despite my only "eyeballing" them, and not measuring a thing. I was pretty proud of myself, and it only encourages me to fake my way through sewing projects without working on developing any actual skills. Maybe I'll try a quilt someday... how hard could that be, right? All straight lines? Ah well, I am a Mickey-Mouse crafter. But as my father has been known to say (with a wink), "sometimes, Mickey is the man!"

staying up late

I don't have much to say but I hate to have a rant be my last post, lingering on the top of the page. Tonight we are in suspended animation, because later (much later) is the Laser Tag Lockin for the high school youth. They show up late at night and play play play until the crack of dawn, and then go home. It's fun!
I won't be playing this year because with this cold, it would make me cough until a premature death. But I traditionally go and greet the bus when it gets to the laster tag place, which is nearer our house than to the church. I hang out until I can't stay awake much longer, then head home. The weekend is a bust, really, because by the time Scott gets home Saturday morning, the sun is coming up and he is completely exhausted- we lay around all day and recover. Not a bad payoff for staying up late once a year. But I have a list of to do's, and will probably sneak out and be productive while Scott sleeps it off in the morning.
Speaking of productive, this week was one of catch-up and I did manage to get a lot accomplished at home and at work, after last week's whirlwind. In fact this month looks just a bit easier than last (good Lord I should hope so) and that makes me breathe a lot easier, despite the bronchitis. Today we took our 14+ year old cat Zarley to the vet to have her nails attended to- she has double paws (at least) and lately some of her lesser-used claws have been growing out of control and into the pads of her feet. Ouch! We were like proud parents, presenting her to the vet, who was lovely. When we tried to eject her from the crate in the exam room, she stuck one giant foot out and the vet tech said "Oh my God! Is that ONE foot?" We beamed in pride of our unique and sweet kitty, who was very well behaved the whole time. Now she's feeling better, trying out her short nails and not sticking to the carpet anymore. We were relieved to hear that she's doing well, physically, and is healthy and sound.
And that's all the news there is.

They call it HoFo for short.

So, I'm about a third of my way through Grad School, and so far it's good, although for the life of me I can't justify even the fraction of it that we're funding. But anyhoo. This semester I'm taking the 1-credit class that is required for all the people in my major (do they call it that in grad school?) called Holistic Formation.
I'm not exactly sure what it is. Last week was our first session, and our leader told us a lot of things that it isn't, but never really got around to telling us what it is. All I know is, there are about 8 of us, and we sit in a circle, and last week (seriously) they had us draw a "faith map" on big paper with... crayons.
I have a bad attitude about this.
Part of the requirements for this class is to come up with a spiritual something plan, which includes finding a spiritual director and going on a retreat. I have a wonderful SD whom I've been seeing for over two years now, and have been on more retreats than you can shake a stick at. I'm feeling kind of in pretty good shape spiritually (as in, I'm addressing my spiritual needs currently- not that I'm spiritually perfect). The crayon drawing I dutifully drew last week was one I've done lots of times, with my middle school students. I saw my advisor in the hall after class and complained about it, and she told me to be a "good role model" for the others in the group. Sigh.
It reminded me of the battle I had with a former pastor over requiring the Catholic school students in our parish to attend high school faith formation classes with the "publics." In my opinion, youth ministries MUST have something- something for the kids who attend Catholic school, who take religion class every day. But, at least in that program, sitting through classes for the public school students was no the something. The pastor thought that the CS kids should be in those classes because they would build community, but I suspected that they'd be so resentful about having to be there after studying theology in school each day that they wouldn't be very open to building community. The pastor suggested that maybe the CS kids could be great role models in the classes, serving as mini-teachers. I doubted that they would be happy with this conscripted service, especially after paying a registration fee.
I thought that the Catholic School kids deserved programming that was designed to suit their particular needs and stage, and I would have gotten around to that if I'd been able to stay at that parish longer than I was. But in the meantime, I thought it was better not to force them through a program that would only build resentment of the Church.
Now I'm feeling like one of those Catholic school kids. But I guess I have no choice, I will muddle through and earn my one measly credit and wear down every crayon they give me. But I'm not gonna like it!

a-choo!!

I came down with it Tuesday night, and woke up to a fully-engaged sore throat, stuffy nose and (well, you remember) head that itched from the inside. Thursday I soldiered through my day, yearning for my bed all day but making it through nonetheless. Friday we went to Maine to infect... I mean, visit my parents and then headed back home. Scott started to feel it last night, so we had some ice cream to soothe ourselves, and went to bed. Mine has migrated into my chest, which ALWAYS happens when I get a cold. Scott slept in this morning, until the afternoon. At one point I tried to get him to get up and have some breakfast and he said "No." It's never really easy to get him out of bed but he never has flat-out refused.
Tonight we're supposed to attend a banquet, and I have a fabulous dress to wear- but it's not looking good. Maybe a nap will help...

Fall

This morning I woke up with a sore throat- was it just from sleeping with my mouth open? No, it's looking like the real deal. Now my head itches, from the inside. Dammit, I'm getting a cold.
This year one of my resolutions was not to suffer. If there's a medicine that will stop whatever nasty problem I'm having, I'll take two of it, please. My house is loaded up with anti-itch cream so that no bug bite would bother me, and pain-killers (nothing with street value, just Aleve, Tylenol, Excedrin) for whatever cricks and aches might crop up. Now I'm dosed with Motrin cold and allergy but it doesn't seem to have kicked in yet, despite the fact that I took it over 45 minutes ago. Ah well.
Outside the sun is just breaking through the gray of this morning. It looks like Fall out there- our big beloved Maple tree is dropping just a few starter red leaves, but soon I know it will start to look like a real party with confetti. At work, the tree I park under drops acorns on my car, and when I head for home, they rolllllllll off. We're already planning our usual Fall activities, and panicking about the Summer stuff we never did get to. Suddenly it's almost October.
Ah well, what can be done? We can't help but go along with it. When October comes, I can't still be in August. I guess if we can't slow down the time we can at least ride it like a roller coaster. Hands up everyone! Here we goooooo!!

I'm no mermaid, either.

I am no mystic. I bring a boulder-sized grain of salt when I hear about miracle sightings of what-have-you. There was a moment in time when the YM community was in a tizzy about rosary links turning gold, and I've heard lots of stories by people I don't know who have seen the sun "spin" or who have witnessed other kinds of phenomena like that. I guess my attitude isn't so much a "that is bunk" kind of attitude- it's more "okay, cool for you if that's what does it for you."
To me, though, the idea of rosary links turning gold or Jesus appearing in a kit-kat seems like a miss. What good does it do the world? I mean, if anyone can make their visage appear in a kit-kat, it's Jesus. But whyyyy? If we could trade those golden links for food for the poor, then I'd be on board. I just don't know if (or why) the Mother of Jesus or the Savior of the World would bother with appearing like this. Maybe it's just me but I think miracles should do something big for the world. How about a nice cure for poverty now and again, huh?
When I was in high school, at a particularly prayerful time in my life, I was alone in my church, staring at the figure of the risen Christ on the wall. I stared at his face for so long that his lips began to appear to move. But I couldn't understand what he was saying! I couldn't read his lips and he wouldn't speak up. It looked like words, but... ah well. Of course it was an apt symbol of my relationship with God, even now- He, speaking mystery to me. Me, not getting his message at all.
I'm not a complete disbeliever in miracles... and I guess ultimately, it's none of my business. If a newly-gold rosary brings you to a new level in faith, then good! And Mary-sightings in windows certainly get people talking and praying, and remind us of her presence. So that's something. But I'm no mystic. God doesn't speak to me in gold flakes or fillings. He doesn't speak to me at all. But I know he's around.

Soundtracks

So, I may have mentioned that this is a stressful week for me. I have three big events at work this weekend, bang-bang-bang... and I have big roles in all of them, especially Saturday's ministry day. My Dad had knee replacement surgery this week, which meant a lot of organizing of my siblings and me, to take turns being up there in Maine with my Mom. With most of us on an educational schedule, this would already have been a tough time to fit everything in. I'm jealous of my sisters and brother who live close enough to run up there in between things.
My Dad has had some complications, including a particularly scary one today. I've been worrying in between all the amazing amount of stuff I had to do today, from a 3 hour New Testament class (that last hour's a KILLER) and getting everything done for this weekend. On my way to class, I knew I needed some music to crowd out the thoughts in my head. I wanted something I could sing to, LOUD, with lots of words and no deep meaning.
I grabbed "Katy Lied" by Steely Dan out of my CD case and knew right away that it was the perfect choice. It's lyrics are mostly nonsense, something really hard to make any meaning out of. Whatever story they put together is so odd that it's hard to apply to one's life. And this particular album doesn't spend a lot of time on instrumental breaks.
I first got this album when I was leaving Washington to head back home from a serious folly, on a train trip that would take 4 days. It was a new album to me so it had the added distraction value of giving me lyrics to learn. It kept me going all the way across the country. I feel like I owe a lot to this album!
So Steely Dan it is, until I can get through a trip leg without fear and worry creeping in. Hopefully this won't contaminate the album for the future.

Simple Woman's Daybook

FOR TODAY 09/11/09...
Outside My Window... It's a regular Fall day- the wind is whipping, it's prematurely dark, the sky is cloudy and the rain comes and goes. It's a perfect day for cooking up some comfort food and watching old movies.
I am thinking... about the movie we're watching (old), from 1938, You Can't Take it With You. It is making me so happy, really, inordinately happy. It's about a crazy family bent on staying happy. It's making me laugh out loud. The dance teacher just said "I feel so good life is dancing around inside of my like a squirrel!"
I am thankful for... this fleeting chance at relaxation- this week will be a crazy whirlwind of activity, from our first weekend of GOF to my father's knee operation in Maine, to a banquet, and of course classes. It's exhausting to think about it, so I think I won't. Truth is, I love pretty much all of it, so that helps the stress stay at bay, a bit.
From the kitchen... Tonight I baked a chicken, and made spaghetti squash alfredo. Oh it was so good!
I am wearing... jeans that I bought today, two sizes smaller than my old jeans!
I am creating... well, nothing right this instant. I'll be creating all week- there's stuff I should be creating right now, by rights, but... tomorrow.
I am going... to Maine on Tuesday to visit my parents- Dad's operation is Monday, and we all are taking turns visiting. I think I'll bring the fixings for a good breakfast, including real cream and bacon and good coffee. Stick up for breakfast!
I am reading... all fun reading is off the docket now, and it's on to lots of Freud this week- and the Gospel of Mark.
I am hoping... that I can get it all done. Oh, I had decided not to think about that, right?
I am hearing... this lovely movie.
Around the house... mess! But also, a husband with a full belly and two sleeping cats.
One of my favorite things... is watching old movies. James Stewart and Jean Arthur are just adorable in this one. Last week we watched "The Man Who Came to Dinner." It was wonderful.
A Few Plans For The Rest Of The Week: Oh seriously, let's not talk about that now.
Here is picture thought I am sharing... here's my view out the window in our kitchen, I have this beautiful view every time I do dishes or wash my hands. How fortunate am I?

I'm not starving

Today was a long day, starting early with the funeral of one of our favorite parishioners, a 91 year old pip who we will sorely miss around the church. That meant, on top of the sadness, that we were at work earlier than usual, and dressed up.
It was a fairly productive day, but when I was ready to leave, Scott wasn't, and so I waited him out until it looked like i could make a break for it (both our cars were there).
On the way home, despite the fact that I was starving, I stopped at Target, and wandered around there for a while. Then I went to Trader Joe's for dinner fixins, and finally got my growling stomach home at around 9:00. I put dinner on to cook, and tuned into the prez's speech.
Just as dinner was juuuuuuust about ready, my phone rang. It was Scott, back at the church, calling to tell me that I had his car key in my bag. I checked, and he was right. I fell to my knees, shook my fist and wailed "WHYYYYYYYYY!?!?!?!?!"
No, I didn't, but I could have. Instead I changed out of that darn skirt, turned off the burner under my dinner, and got my empty belly back on the road. Soon, I hit a construction area which detoured me onto the very road I needed to travel, in the opposite direction. I will admit that here is where I started to pout.
I flipped on Canadian public radio, and As It Happens was doing a story about kids from some Canadian high school who sponsored a Hunger Banquet for their peers (they called it and "awareness lunch" I think. Those crazy Canucks!). One of the students said "it's not really much of a sacrifice to go for two school periods without food, but it did make me think."
I immediately apologized to God for using the word "starving" while driving in my nice car, soon to be back in my cozy home, with enough food to feed a lot of starving people quite nicely.

SNORC?

Starting today, life gets faster. We were up and running from an early (for us) hour, and just now are sitting down for the first time today. Tomorrow looks a lot like today, and then, every other day, forever, or at least until Easter. It's overwhelming to look at my calendar, which I've now started color-coding so that I can keep track of the different departments. I started class today, and the professor handed out a 55-page list of "recommended readings." FIFTY-FIVE PAGES!! I thought he must have been joking. He wasn't, though. Fortunately, the "required readings" were only about 3-4 pages long. Ha.
This morning as we both rushed about, I pulled out my brown shirt to iron. Weirdly, I saw that it had a letter N on it. Then, a letter S. They were TINY, but perfect. I went on to find O, R, and C. Here's a picture:
I wish I'd put a dime or something in the picture so you can see how tiny they are. They are about the size of a pencil lead. Really small. It was so strange to find them there, on my shirt. No idea where they came from.
As you can see, they spell SCORN. Or, I guess, CORNS. Either way, it seemed like a warning.
I got in my car and noticed that my trip meter was it 666.8.
But on I went, and made it through the day fairly unscathed. So far.