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?

Simple Woman's Day Book- lotsa links edition

FOR TODAY 01/29/10...
Outside My Window... The wind is blowing like crazy, and it's wicked cold out!! Today I ventured out to the grocery store but my list blew out of my pocketbook and away. I had to wing it, but I think I got almost everything we needed. I managed to spend plenty of money. Anyway, outside my window, it's cold.
I am thinking... about how good my life is. I met with friends from my old parish this week, and they had lots of stories to tell and good good gossip, and I had nothing. It's because my life is so good right now. Nothing big to tell, except for all I have to look forward to. I'm getting together with friends tomorrow and will have no stories to tell. Ah well, such is the good life.
I am thankful for... my job. We are hosting a three-night workshop this week and have over 70 people registered. It's going to be so good!!! Nowhere else can I imagine this working so well. I'm so thankful to be part of this community, working with my husband, in a great parish. I am truly fortunate, and truly thankful.
From the kitchen... I just made chocolate caramel bars with sea salt on top, for tomorrow's gathering. I am DYING to try them but they're supposed to be in the fridge overnight. I'm also going to be making puff pastry/cheese/onion thingies tomorrow too. YUM.
I am wearing... jeans, shirt, blah blah blah... but not for long, because Kate is here to give me a massage!!!
I am creating... just the food stuffs, oh and I've been trying to make a crocheted giraffe. I'll keep you posted on that.
I am going... to a friend's house tomorrow, to dip in her hot tub and drink wine and eat great stuff and see wonderful friends.
I am reading... I was called to Jury Duty this week, and brought all my homework with me, and took a pretty good stab at it, but after a while I had religion fatigue and switched to Are You There Vodka, It's Me Chelsea... by Chelsea Handler. It's a chuckle-out-loud kind of book, simultaneously funny and horrifying.
I am hoping... that all the people who registered for the workshop show up, and love it.
I am hearing... Scott's playlist while Kate gives him a great massage... also Scott moaning... :)
Around the house... the caramel bars are in the fridge, taunting me!!
One of my favorite things... is a weekend off. I had the craziest week! Three classes in three days, plus lunch, plus meetings and the usual whatnot, and jury duty Thursday. I was thrilled to sleep late on Friday and to look ahead at a nearly empty day. Maybe the free-ness of my weekend this time around is accentuated by the near-miss of almost being empaneled on the jury for a child-rape case. It was pretty close!! I think they dismissed me mostly because of my Catholicity. I'm so glad not to be going back there Monday.
A Few Plans For The Rest Of The Week: Our Called and Gifted workshop, of course! I'm so excited. I think it's going to be great, but of course I do have Hostess Anxiety. I hope I've thought of everything, or will, in time.
Here is picture thought I am sharing.
It's the chocolate caramel bars, all set up and salted. Don't they look good?

A Retreat of My Own

Scott's away this weekend on the yearly Sophomore retreat, and I stayed home with GOF responsibilities. It was my first time back in the saddle of Youth Ministry after a couple of years now, and I was excited and nervous to be back, even if temporarily. I pulled out all my greatest YM hits and had a couple of extra go-to goodies in my bag, just in case, and I think it went fine. It's well-timed for my annual retreat season mourning period for my Youth Ministry days. I get another shot at it tomorrow.
Meanwhile, between GOF's I've had a whole day to myself. Oddly enough (and maybe I've written about this here before?) I think that at heart I am an introvert, well, a little at least- I crave days like this, where I don't have to talk to anyone, or hear any noise, or be anyplace at anytime. Even when we travel, at some point in the day I feel a real need to head back to the hotel room, to touch home plate in some way, and once I have, I feel ready to go back out there. Today is an elongated version of that, I think.
So I slept a little late, had my usual low-carb breakfast (I have a one-egg omelet every day- usually with spinach, mushrooms and goat cheese, but when I run out of goat cheese like today, it's with cream cheese. And bacon. Two strips.) and then puttered around a little. I had considered day trips- maybe to Maine, maybe a drive to parts unknown with my camera- but as the morning went on, I was feeling pretty good where I was. I did laundry, cleaned the kitchen, and took a shower and then went out into the world.
I have ordered all my school books but not all have arrived, including Let Your Life Speak by Parker Palmer, which I am to have read by Tuesday noon. So I went to the Barnes and Noble nearby, bought a coffee, and sat down and read the whole darn book. (Is that stealing?) It's a great book, it turns out- I can't wait to get my own copy so I can scribble in it, there are lots of great lines.
Home again, I cooked up some cheddar cheese crisps (oh my GOSH they're good! And so easy! Nothing better than a new way to eat cheese!!) and did my chores, finished all my reading for school (!) and now here I am at last in my chair, snug in a sleeping bag and dreaming of dinner.
I know Scott's weekend is going well, and I like the idea of my day being full of prayer for him and his kids and team. I simultaneously love the staying-in and lone-ness of this day and can't-flippin'-wait for him to come home.

My Word!

Yes, Virginia, I did find my word! (At least, I'm pretty sure- this is the word that keeps coming back to me... so far) My word for this year is...... wait for it....... REACH.
I know, it doesn't sound all that exciting, but to me, it has intriguing meaning. I think it means that I need to reach out to more people, in ministry and in my personal life (heck maybe I'll have a #1 next year if this works out). I think it means that I need to spread out and reach new areas and ideas in my work. I think it means that I should reach beyond my comfort zone, beyond the things in my life that hold me back.
When I explained it all to Scott, he said "that's very positive!" and that is all the affirmation I need. So here I go.

butt-dial!

Today on my way home from class, I got a call on my cell phone from a number I didn't recognize. I often don't answer my phone even if I do know who's calling, as you may remember... but especially this evening, I decided to ignore it and wait for a message. I was on Storrow Drive and it was dark out and busy, and that's a crazy road!
A while later (it took quite a while, so I should have known...) I got the beep for a message. I dialed it up (on a much saner stretch of my route) and heard that I'd been butt-dialed. I think it's happening more and more nowadays, with people using touch-sensitive, non-flip phones.
I couldn't help myself, I listened to the whole thing. It was probably a minute long, and I couldn't recognize the voice that I heard, muffled, in the background. But I could tell that they were... closing drawers? Yes, I think that's what that sound is... I pictured the caller in their bedroom, putting clothes away after finishing their last load of laundry. I imagined it was a busy Mom, probably telling her kids to clean up their room or finish their homework, or that dinner would be ready any minute. I bet she'd just come home from work and squeezed in that last load between picking up her kids and getting dinner on the table.
Of course, I have no real idea. But I can't be the only one who will listen to a butt-dial message. It's a sneaky glimpse into the life of a stranger, a misty hint of a life's story. I think I like butt-dial messages better than voice-mail messages!

A Year Still New...

One of our youth group-ers asked me the other night "how long into the new year is it acceptable to say 'Happy New Year' to people?" After some serious thought, I said that 5 days in was the limit. He told me he had wished someone in a store Happy New Year and she had seemed quite taken aback. But he confirmed that it was on the 7th, and therefore my 5 days answer was right on.
But here I am still mulling over the newness of the year- I can't let the resolution thing drop. I have started backing my car in to spots, a little (once) and I think I'm not all that good at it, so the resolution will be good for me, I think. I picked it because I have this vague worry that I have done something in my life for the very last time before I die, and have not known it. I know, seriously, what a crazy fear, huh? But I wonder if my Dad knew, that last time that he skied, that he'd NEVER do it again. It's why I want to try running sometime.
This year I did not publish my Top Ten Friends list. I have more than ten friends, and fortunately it was not hard to come up with a bunch to place on the list, but I realized in the process of it that I don't have a #1 this year. I have a clear #2, and following, but no #1. I don't consider this a sad thing, because my list and dinner schedules are otherwise full. But without a #1, does that mean I should, de-facto, promote my #2 to #1? I think my #2 would be a little weirded out by being told s/he is my #1. I just haven't decided how to proceed, so everyone will just have to try and survive one year without knowing how they rate in my life.
Today I found a blog article about choosing a WORD to focus on for the year, rather than a goal. Ooooooh!!! What a neat idea!!! I don't know what my word might be, but I'm intrigued. I think I'll ask God for a word and see what comes to me. Or maybe I'll field suggestions, that ought to be interesting...

Hurry hurry hurry hurry..... (run!)

I visited my spiritual director this morning, and as always, came away with lots to chew on. I was telling her about my whole hurrying on of time that I've written about here, and how I've become more and more aware of my tendency to do this over the past couple of years. I told her that it had been a lifelong trait of mine, described how my walk home from school was usually 20 minutes (while I dallied and played and sang songs to the trees and visited the neighborhood pets on my way down the hill) if I'd had a good day- but when I knew I'd be getting in trouble as soon as I got home, I would somehow unconsciously race there. I remember cursing myself (slow down!! Enjoy your freedom while it lasts!!) but I almost couldn't help myself, I just wanted to get it over with. The anticipation was an uncomfortable place for me to linger in.
Now I find I am worse than ever in this way- I have little patience for the introductory chords at the beginning of songs, preferring to jump right to the words- I click ahead on youtube videos that take too long to start. I have no patience for opening credits.
I even find myself checking IMDB for the ending of movies so I won't have to wait to find out.
The same thing happens with my relationship with God. I don't like to tarry in the unknown and unknowable, I want to get TO it. I am happy to learn from God and happy to do what God wants me to do, but come ON, just tell me what you want and I will DO it already!
The weird thing is, I find myself in a section of life that I am enjoying so much- I am so happy right now- that I pray for it to go on for a while. But it is a tension that I see and fight in myself constantly. It can very easily translate into a fear or doominess, a waiting for another shoe to drop.
But the good news is, I know that no matter what, I end up okay. I end up loved and grown by God. I'm curious to find out how it will happen each time, but I always do know that it will. I guess that's what they mean when they talk about waiting and hoping "in joyful expectation."

I like to sing-a!

When I was interviewing for my social work job at the Department of Social Services, they asked me how I handled stress. They wanted to know if I had things that I would do to deal with high stress. Any habits, techniques, rituals? I told them that when I'm stressed, I sing really loud in my car.
That is still true- when I have a hard day, and get into my car with tense shoulders and a tight throat, I find just the right song to belt along with, full throttle. By the time I get home I am looser, more relaxed, and happier.
I love to sing when I'm happy, too- I love to use my whole voice- love the feel of it bowling out of my lungs. It is cathartic. The words of the song can help, but it's that feeling that really makes it real and good and important to me.
We finally did have our Lessons and Carols concert, just in the nick of time, the very last night of the Christmas season. The concert went well and I benefited from the extra rehearsal we got between the other two postponed dates. I had a lot of fun singing with the group, and stretching my brain again to read that alto line, and I had the BEST time with my friend Kristen, who (whom?) I dragged along with me- an absolute blast.
I like to sing-a!

Scratch that.

Well, I've blown through two or three New Year's Resolutions already. The first one was "Be nice." I haven't necessarily been MEAN, but I have been un-nice. The second day of my new way of life was a less nice day than I've had in a while. Ah well. No point in keeping on trying, right?
I think I'll take a break and put all my resolve into my Lenten promise. Lent is just around the corner.
But true to my form, I'm looking forward to a lot of great stuff in my future. In February we get back to LOST- did you hear that they rescheduled the State of the Union Address because it was scheduled for the first night of the new season of LOST?
And of course, I'm looking forward to Lent, and then to Easter, and then to the week after Easter when we will be heading to Vegas for the National Conference of Catechetical Leaders.
And by then, I'll probably be better in many ways, due to my wildly successful Lenten promises.

Simple Woman's Day Book

FOR TODAY 01/02/10... my first time writing the new year!
Outside My Window... The snow piles up, slowly but surely. It's been snowing since forever but there's not a huge amount of snow... tonight the wind is supposed to whip up and more snow is on the way.
I am thinking... about whether or not I'll get to work on time tomorrow morning. Sundays are not good days for snow when one works at a church, and the first Sunday of each month is especially busy for our parish. Baptism registrations, Coffee and Donuts after Mass, Baptism class, and this weekend was supposed to be the Lessons and Carols concert, postponed from December because of... snow. We shall see what goes on and what doesn't, but I'll be glad to get in there, having made it through the morning commute.
I am thankful for... the amazing blessings/fortune surrounding me, including a husband who calls me "my love" and laughs at my jokes, a cat that is playing, literally, with a ball of wool, and a fridge full of food.
From the kitchen... Yesterday I made a family heirloom recipe, Potpourri Soup. It's a tomato-based pot of yum, with barley, celery, hamburger, carrots, and cabbage, and it's deeelicious and perfect for weather like this weekend's. Tonight I have a wee chicken to bake. Nothing like the smell of chicken baking. Yum.
I am wearing... fresh pajamas! I've pretty much been in pajamas for two days now, but I did just take a shower after frolicking in the snow and have nice clean jammies on for the night.
I am creating... not much these days! I have a half-finished scarf for Scott in the works, and I haven't been baking much lately... I'm taking the break from school to heart and doing very little, overall.
I am going... nowhere. Scott is starting to get antsy after a few days lounging but it takes more than that for it to get old to me! Home is my favorite place to be.
I am reading... Nothing. See a theme here? I'm between semesters, so no compulsory reading, but Sarah Vowell's The Wordy Shipmates is sitting next to my chair tempting me.
I am hoping... that the new year will be blissfully wonderful and peaceful for everyone.
I am hearing... You've Got Mail (I was watching Lawrence Welk but Scott turned it off...) and Scott puttering around in the kitchen. Oh and there is that wind they warned us about.
Around the house... cats are snuggling up to radiators.
One of my favorite things... we got a fake tree this year, finally a Christmas plan to stick with (rather than the haphazard ways of yore, where we'd get a little one for the tabletop one year, then a big one, then one that Scott wouldn't allow us to put ornaments on, or the year we decorated our dress dummy.) I love how our ornaments from our lifetimes are mingled now on it. Another one of my favorite things is the way Christmas lights look peeking through snow in our neighborhood. Oh and the sound of a snowplow.
A Few Plans For The Rest Of The Week: things grind back up into normal pace this week, and I look forward to the return to regularity that comes finally after this holiday season. I'm looking forward to my shows being back on first-run, and eating like a normal (albeit low-carb) person, and having a schedule to my day.
Here is picture thought I am sharing...
Aw heck, why not- here are a few:

Happy New Decade

I guess I didn't notice how bad the aughts were. I personally had some great times and some tough times, for sure, a true adult kind of life, with challenges and cheers. But I guess I didn't realize how overall badly this decade has been for the world.
It's not that I haven't been paying attention. I listen to the news, including the Canada news, all day every day- so much so that I do pretty well at the Wait Wait, Don't Tell Me news quiz every week.
But now that they're doing end-of-year and end-of-decade lists and reviews everywhere, I'm hearing everyone say that it was a bad decade. Of course: 9/11, war, Bush (there I said it), the economic crash, you know, etc. Even Daniel Schorr on NPR declared it good riddance and hoped for better in the tens. (Read 'em and weep!)
I remember as a kid, reading about WWII and imagining what it would be like to live in a time of war, and it didn't look, in my mind, like my life looks now. I thought war time would be a time of banding together, being hopeful, supporting the war effort, sacrificing to that end. None of that seems to happen these days. I wondered what it would be like to live in "hard times," and I guess, now I know.
But I'm hopeful for 2010- I am willing to compartmentalize life into decades and leave one behind in favor of starting another. So here's to Twenty-Ten, and beyond. Even if the aughts were really great for you and yours, I hope the tens will be better.

I've been in your house!

There's a house at the bottom of the hill, one of the big old ones in our town, that we pass every day on our way to and from our house. One day when we went buy we saw a sign that there was an estate sale going on there. We could not contain our curiosity and walked down to check it out.
The house was full- filled to the brim with stuff. It looked like the person who'd lived there had not done any work cleaning or organizing or even cooking in a long time. It was similar to the houses on the new shows about hoarders that are on all the cable channels now. Each room was more amazing than the first- the kitchen cabinets were full but with no product newer than the last decade. The bathroom tubs were full of clothing and toiletries, and each bedroom was full of clothes and other stuff. The attic had a long pole from one end of the main room up there to the other, and hanging from it were hundreds of formal gowns from a department stores- some dresses were there in two or three different sizes or colors of the same style, and most of them had the tags on them. It made us wonder about the woman who had lived there. The sale workers were understandably tight-lipped about her story but we somehow found out that she had not died, but had just... left. We didn't envy the jobs of those staffers, and knew that whatever hadn't been sold would literally have to be shoveled out, into a dumpster or two or four.
In the front room of the blisteringly hot attic, I found a pile of boxes and file cabinets full of pictures and letters and memories from the family that had lived there. They were insanely personal, from times they'd been apart, sweet letters of love and promise and hope for the future. I felt at the same time wicked and privileged to read it all and I soaked it up. I love that stuff. But it broke my heart to think it would be shoveled out with the rest of the junk.
Just tonight we drove by the house, which has been completely cleaned out and is being lived in, by someone. Some repairs have been done but it could stand some paint and the little garage out back is still broken and ramshackle. I don't know anything more about the house now than I did then, but as I drove past tonight and tried to catch a peek in the windows, I whispered to the new tenants there "I've been in your house!"

Welcome to the CAPE

I think in parishes at Christmas time (and Ash Wednesday, and Palm Sunday, and Easter) there can be some mixed emotions at the crowds that appear. The CAPE Catholics all descend and clog the parking lot and the pews, and while it looks wonderful, feels wonderful, and is just the way we think it ought to be all year long, we can feel frustrated too- why isn't it this way all year long? Are these people here to be posers, fake part-time Catholics, doing it because it's tradition, or are they really here to worship God? Why don't they want to worship God with us all year long?
Last night at our most crowded Mass (at four, which the harumphers will harumph "oh they want to get it over with so they can go on with their Christmas plans!") I stood with my pastor in the balcony overlooking the crowd. He said "just watch, half of these people will leave as soon as Communion is over." And we did watch, and he was right, a lot of people did leave after Communion. I said to him, "but... look at how many stayed!" He rolled his eyes at me a bit, but smiled. I'm always telling the staff to think the best of people, be optimistic. They give me the same reaction, but I think they see some whiff of wisdom in it. Anyway, I told the pastor that it was probably best for people to start leaving early, so as to lessen the clog in the parking lot.
I know there are reasonable reasons to harumph at this sudden Christianity that strikes around these holidays. But I think it's better to be hopeful. If they came, they came because God called them to, whether or not they know that. They didn't have to come. Maybe they think it's tradition, or guilt, that calls them to their knees once (or four times) a year, but I think it's the Holy Spirit. And maybe while they're with us, they'll feel a deeper call. Maybe they'll hear something inspiring in the sermon or the songs, or maybe this year someone will smile at them warmly and they'll realize they miss the community that they could be finding at church.
I couldn't help but have a full heart looking down at the crowds of half-familiar faces and wobbly toddlers and perfumed up old ladies. I was glad to see it looking like it ought to look, and feeling like it ought to feel, and I smiled warmly at everyone I could meet eyes with. I hope they come back.

Christmas Week Joys and Woes

Today we start our home-stretch toward Christmas day, and our heads are reeling with the financial pressures and deadlines, and the weird schedule at work that is a combination of lots of events to get to, but not a lot of work to do.
Today and tomorrow we gather with our Pastor, whose sister Nancy died last Friday. She was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in November, and died so soon after. It happened so fast, and so sickeningly suddenly. We're mourning for her whole family but mostly for our Pastor and friend, who has now lost two beloved siblings within a year, too young. She didn't know she had cancer, at all- until she went into renal failure and was hospitalized. How long had it been at work in her, silently wreaking havoc, without her even knowing? How horrible to be betrayed by your own body like that, keeping secrets and making promises while slowly getting ready to kick your legs out from under you.
I remember hearing a doctor on an NPR interview who had been paralyzed many years before. The interviewer asked him whether he resented his body, and he said no, that instead he thanked it for sticking with him through all he'd put it through. I love that attitude. But I wonder if people with cancer like Nancy's can ever get to that point.
The pastor is a faith-filled and joyful man, and it's crushing to see him sad- and it's so awful that it's happening around Christmas. He told Scott that of course none of them had done any shopping. It makes me want to help him, but of course there's not much I can do.
I'm slowly starting to understand how God works in these situations... I think... I think He, too, would like to make everything better, to let people live forever, to never experience sadness- but He knows, He must know, that this is all part of a much bigger picture. I have to believe that even though we fear death, and leaving the ones we love, or the ones we love leaving us, God knows about a bigger and better truth, a bigger and better goodness. But it must be hard for him to watch us suffer- like a parent whose heart breaks at their child's tears, but knows that the tears are part of the growing and learning that the child needs. Remember parents used to say "this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you..."? Maybe that's true for our Father, too.

Don't wash your face with snow, that's silly.

It's snowing like the dickens up here on the hill. This morning I got up at 6:22 to dig out and head in for the 9:00 Mass, but there was no way that was going to happen. The snow is dumping down in flakes so tiny that you can hardly believe they'd amount to anything. But you know what they say:
little snow = big snow and big snow = little snow.
At 6:22 we probably had about 4 inches but the weather people said that I should stay off the roads because the winds were wicked. So I did, and went back to bed. Up again at 8:22, there were 4 more inches. Now at 10:30, there's probably 2 more inches and still it comes. I've missed the 9AM baptism and the Breakfast with Santa, which they very silly-ly decided to go on with.
Next target for takeoff, to get there for 1:00 baptisms. We shall see.
Here's how it looks from here:

Christmas preparations on the Hill

If tomorrow wasn't supposed to be such a busy day, I'd be pretty excited about the massive amounts of snow forecasted for tonight and tomorrow. We are supposed to have four baptisms at 3 different times tomorrow, along with Breakfast with Santa after the 9 and the 11. Not to mention the "Red Sox" Swap (because it doesn't seem right to do a Yanke swap here in Soxland) and my musical comeback in Lessons and Carols. Ah well. Maybe we can limp in there at some point and make half the day happen.
But here at the homefront, my shopping is done, and wrapped. The tree is lit and surrounded with pretty packages, and soon Scott will be home from the mall with his bounty. I spent the afternoon making treats for my co-workers.Here's what I cheffed up:

These are nifty little treats my sister told me about: pretzels with rollos melted on top and then squished down with an M&M, and I added a drizzle of white chocolate. Oh yeah, they're yummy.


















This is bark made with graham crackers, emphasis on the word CRACK, they are so freakin' good. I broke up M&Ms on top to make them even more festive.














I packed them up together in nify plastic chinese-food-takeout box things. Festive!!

Love love love

When I was a teenager, all I wanted in the world was to fall in love and for someone to fall in love with me. I remember that every time I had some kind of relationship with a boy, I looked for symptoms of being in love, very much like I do now when I'm afraid that I'm coming down with the flu. Is my throat sore? Does my stomach feel funny? Why am I so tired, IS THIS THE FLU???
As a teenager, I knew all about love, what it looked like in the movies and on tv (Joanie Loves Chachi!) and what it was supposed to feel like. I think all teenagers are similar- especially girls, if they're like me- LOVE was the language of my teen years. I talk a lot about love when I describe having a relationship with God to teenagers now. I tell them that when I found out God loved me already, it felt to me like i was falling in love with Him. I suddenly wanted to know more about Him, I wanted to spend as much time as possible with Him, I thought about Him all the time. Love songs on the radio became hymns. I wanted my friends to know Him.
When I teach about evangelization, and about living in the Kingdom, I tell people we should be like people in love- wanting to tell the world about our new special One, glowing from the happiness of knowing Him. I say, "when you're at a restaurant or at a hotel, you can pick out the honeymooners, can't you? You can see it written all over them!" I say, maybe this is what kingdom-living looks like- maybe we should glow from the feeling of loving and being so loved.
What's funny is we spend very little time at church talking about God's overwhelming love for us. Oh it's mentioned, but sort of in the context of theology. Those of us from MY generation are mocked because we were catechized just post-Vatican II. Religious educators scorn "oh for you it was all crafts and 'Jesus looooves youuu'" as if that is the worst message one could teach or be taught about Jesus.
I wonder how different things would be in our Church if more people know about what it feels like to be in love with God? I wonder how many people would be surprised and changed- converted, if you will- to find out how much God loves them.
PS, God loves you!

My Brain Hurts!

I'm using my brain in new (okay,old) exciting ways this week. It's finals week in grad school, and I just passed in my take-home final for my Psych of Religious Development class, and should right now be studying for my New Testament final, which is Thursday in class. Blue books! I am not sure I've taken a blue book exam, ever. I have a study guide, and once I study that (maybe I'll use note cards!) I should be fine.
But the real brain-cell tickler is that I've been singing in the choir- a temporary gig, for Lessons and Carols. I was asked to join as an Alto, which I am not. I was a second-soprano, way back when. I'm totally new at reading the alto line in SATB music.
It's HARD! Altos never get their starting note, and they don't get to follow any melodical instinct. The alto line goes up and down when one least expects it. They're all over the place! But the sound altos make really does flesh out the sound of the choir, and it's cool to be the ones to sing the tricky notes. It turns out that I haven't lost all my music-reading abilities, and my voice is still pretty trustworthy.
It's old and new territory this week for me.
Okay, okay, I'm gonna go study.

I couldn't do it, really.

Have you seen "Men of a Certain Age" yet? It's on TNT, starring Ray Romano, Scott Bakula, and Andre Brauer. It's funny, but it's really dark, too. I wasn't expecting that. It is the kind of show you kinda wish you could stop watching, even while you can't stop watching.
Ray's character is in the midst of a divorce, and watching him interact with his ex-wife is tough. During scenes like this I picture them on their wedding day, so happy. I imagine how sure they must have felt about each other that day.
But the thing that really gets me is this: how do you separate from someone who knows you so well, who you know so well? Even after only 8 years of marriage, I know Scott so well. I know he can't keep a secret, I know how cranky he gets when he's hungry. I know what makes him laugh, I know how emotional he is. I know how he'll react to things. I know he wakes up happy... well, you see what I mean, I KNOW him. Intimately. And he knows me, like no one else does.
How do you live with distance between you and someone you know so well?

Mary's "yes"

So yesterday was our parish's feast day, the Immaculate Conception. Are you the last Catholic to hear that this immaculate conception is the conception of MARY, not of Jesus? Well it's true! Rumor has it Mary was conceived (in her mother's womb- this is always specified. I guess it's to distract people from asking where she was conceived, which is too personal a question.) without sin. How about that?
Every year on this day I hear a sermon about Mary and how fortunate we are that this young woman said "yes" to God, and agreed to be the God-bearer, the first tabernacle, if you will. I ponder this. If it's true that she was chosen even before she was born, then what choice did she really have? Would it even be possible that she could have said no? How would that work? Did God have a couple of other girls conceived without sin, just as plan B,C,D? Or would her "no" have pushed back the date of the coming of our Messiah until God could work up another immaculate conception of some other girl and grow her up to child-bearing age?
But I guess she, being human like us, had a choice. Sure, she was specially gifted and prepared for this pivotal role in history, in the Kingdom. But ultimately, it came down to her accepting God's plan for her and agreeing to participate in it, using the gift God gave her. Did Mary know how special she was, how gifted she was for doing God's work? Maybe she had an inkling. How different would the world have been if she refused to move in the ways God asked her to move? Or, if she was too afraid to try?
I think the same is true for all of us. Maybe we have very little awareness of the gifts God has given us. Maybe we are afraid to put ourselves out there, afraid to trust that we have what we need within ourselves, put there by God. How different would the world be if we agree to move in the way that God is asking us to move?

Memorial Service

Today we went to the memorial service for Scott's youth minister at the Congregational Church in our town. The church was full to overflowing, and the service was lovely and moving. Howie was a Young Life staffer, and had been in ministry for decades. At one point, his wife asked people to stand in accordance with how they knew Howie: as a family member? As a Young Life leader? As a teacher? As a ministry colleague? It was remarkable thing to see.
As I sat there listening to this man's life being told, I had a lot to think about. I wondered if I lived enough great stories for people to tell about me after I die. I wondered if it was a mistake to never have had children. I wondered if I was doing enough in my ministry that people would be able to say "she taught me about God."
The structure of the service was interesting- it was over two hours long but despite the fact that I was SO hungry throughout, since I had neglected to have lunch, it was thoroughly lovely and inspiring. I had only met Howie a few times, but I know the influence he's had on Scott. During the prayer part of the service, we were invited to turn to God with our thanks for bringing Howie into our lives, and I thanked God for Howie because without his encouragement of Scott to go into ministry, I guessed I never would have met him. How about that? Howie, I'm sure, never thought "hey I made that marriage possible!" He never knew the influence he had on me, a person he'd barely met.
In all, the service made me want to be a better person, a better minister, a better Christian. I want to be the kind of person who has a memorial service that inspires people to be better.

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.