Simple Woman's Daybook

Simple Woman's Day Book
FOR TODAY 06/11/10...

Outside My Window... it's gorgeous out there. I just went out to check the crops and weirdly, there's nothing to do. It's been raining for a couple of days, so the grass is growing and the raised bed is thriving- spinach, carrots, peas, and now sunflowers poking up. The pansies are gorgeous and the daylilies will be in bloom soon. All there is to do now is sit and wait and enjoy the beauty of it.
I am thinking... about our upcoming camping trip, one of my favorite weeks of the year. We have a new tent this year, don'tcha know, and it's AWESOME! I love love loved our old tent, but it was small, just big enough for our bed and a bag but no standing up, and barely even room to sit up, really- still, I am loyal to my old tent and thankful to have had it. But the new one. Wowsers!
I am thankful for... being able to afford to live in this beautiful apartment, to buy a great tent and go camping, for wonderful friends and family, for so so much.
From the kitchen... still, the smell of bacon from this morning, and the sound of Scott puttering around, up too late for breakfast but not really hungry for lunch. Tonight we're having some friends over for a fire, and I'm tickled to have plenty of food in the larder to share. I get a real kick out of having enough food for anyone who shows up at our house- it feels like such richness. I always wanted to be the house where everyone shows up and there's plenty for everyone. I toy with dreams of hosting an "anyone's invited" regular Thursday night dinner, where my friends from all parts of my life might show up and mix and mingle over my dining room table. Maybe someday. But for now, I love the feeling of being stocked up and ready to feed the troops, ready and open for business.
I am wearing... I changed from pajamas to pajama-like clothes; sweatpants and a t-shirt. I thought I'd be working outside but everything's kind of set out there, for now, so I'm back in my chair watching an old Jacques Cousteau film on TCM. I love this day!
I am creating... I have to admit, not a lot. I work best under deadline, and recently at work there have been very few deadlines- so I've been very under-productive. I'm trying to fill my time with reading up on all the catechetical journals that have stacked up on my desk over the years, so at least I'm doing work, even if it doesn't feel like hard work.
I am going... on vacation in a week and a half, with days off before camping to pack and organize and stock up on books and freeze water for the coolers, and gosh I'm excited!!! This trip, which began with a lot of YM friends joining us 8 or 9 years ago, has now turned into a Talbot family trip, with all my siblings in attendance for the first time this year. I can't frickin' wait!!!
I am reading... All those journals, like I mentioned- and on the extreme other end of the spectrum, I just finished "Are You There Vodka, It's Me Chelsea." I have a Sarah Vowell book in the shoot, and I've decided to buckle down and finally read "Hitchhiker's Guide" this Summer. I made the mistake of listening to a "recommended books" report on NPR and have added a bunch of good-sounding ones to my amazon wishlist... after a nice literature break since the end of school I'm ready for good reading.
I am hoping... for good weather or at least good tarps for the camping trip! And for the skies to clear up for tonight's fire. And for good news for a good friend!
I am hearing... funny old-sounding narration of the film in a french accent, and tons of baby birds outside demanding to be fed.
Around the house... Scott puttering, cats sleeping, laundry lying about.
One of my favorite things... oh I should have put that thing about having enough food here. Well another one is Summer. I love Summer. And Scott, he's my favorite thing of all.
A Few Plans For The Rest Of The Week: Another gathering with good friends tomorrow, Parish Picnic on Sunday, and lunch with a friend next week. Life is so good.
Here is picture thought I am sharing.
The aforementioned tent! Isn't she a beauty??

Kicking it old school

I went on retreat a couple of weeks ago, sort of a combined adult-and-teen retreat, sort of a leadership retreat, and I didn't want to go. I went because I've never been on this yearly retreat, and I love the retreat center they were going to, and my friends were going to be there, including one who'd never been on one before, and because I wanted to be with Scott.
But I didn't want to go. Usually on that weekend I spend my days at home, all by myself, working hard at long-neglected chores and reading and eating well and soaking up the sun, and I love that weekend of time by myself.
But I went like a good sport and really did enjoy myself. I know I've written here before that it's very hard for me to do Youth Ministry things while not being the Coordinator, or even, technically, a team-member, and I've held myself out of being a volunteer in the parish where I work as an adult formation person. But this time I went ahead and broke out some of my rusty old YM skills, and it felt great.
A lot of what we did was familiar stuff, and it's hard to do familiar stuff with someone else leading it, because they don't do it the way I would. But some of the stuff was new, and I tried hard to be-here-now in the familiar stuff as well.
I was reminded of the things I've long loved about youth ministry- the kids were so funny and their responses to God were so deep and sincere. Their observations were surprising and striking. They were generous with each other and took everything seriously.
And I was really reminded of the emotional quality of youth retreats. It wasn't like an old-school get-them-tired-and-play-with-their-emotions kind of thing, like they did when I was a kid. It was just... a lot of love. I could see kids turning to Christ and feeling loved and returning that love right in front of me. It felt, as it always does, I remember- it felt like such an honor to witness people falling in love.
Someday I'll be back in youth ministry, and I hope I won't forget this feeling of honor, and the value of emotion in ministry. It makes me happy to know I still want to go back to where God originally sent me, still have a heart for seeing Christ work in the hearts of young people.

Road Reunion

Today we went out for breakfast to celebrate our anniversary and the restaurant we chose was in the first neighborhood I lived in when I moved to Massachusetts. I was there for two years, I think, working and living in a group home for adolescent girls. I had no car for a chunk of that time, and did a lot of walking in that neighborhood.
I realized as we drove through it today, 18 years after moving to this state, how connected I get to my travel routes. Every time I go to that neighborhood, situated on 1A, which was also the route I took to my first youth ministry job for 9 years. I have all the homes memorized, still, and remember when some houses were empty for a long time and neglected, which now are painted and renewed and holing happy families. Being back on that route was like going to a reunion with old friends...
My trip to my last parish was a windy one up route 114 through Middleton, a road I loved. Lots of great scenery and sweet little businesses, and favorite spots that I really miss seeing now. It's funny how these things add themselves to my memory and stay there, so familiar and so contaminated with memories. Good roads and good times and bad. I'm grateful for the roads I've traveled.

happy anniversary!

It's our ninth anniversary (pottery or willow, if you're wondering...) and we are feeling pretty blissful. As I type, Scott is up and getting ready to take me out to breakfast to celebrate. Dinner together is out this week because we have too many other things going on, so he surprised me by waking me up BEFORE my alarm clock went off... that is EARLY for Scott... to invite me to breakfast.
While he was in the shower I switched on NPR, and listened intently to the story of Al and Tipper Gore's divorce. 40 years of marriage and they're calling it quits. When I was first married stories like that would have scared me to the core- but now I just ponder them. 40 years!
On the story, they interviewed a person who said we should consider their 40 years before divorcing as a "celebration of life" rather than a failure of marriage. After all, people are living so much longer than they used to. Are we really to expect that people will live with one spouse for 75 years??
I guess the missing point here is the reverence of the sacrament. We were advised, when we got married, to consider The Marriage as a third "person" in our relationship. We were to take as good care of The Marriage as we were to take care of each other. I do have much respect for this Marriage, and what it's shown us about each other, ourselves, life, and God. We promised "forever" not only to each other, but to our families, friends, and to God. Even when it's hard, I could never leave this marriage.
Of course, I imagine Al and Tipper may have made such bold statements at year 9 of their 40. But I'm not worried. Maybe their marriage was doomed just for the fact that it didn't have Scott in it. I'm blessed to have Scott and This Marriage.

Easy Seed is for Wimps

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

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

Why pray?

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

Happy Endings

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

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

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

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

Our Tree

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

Compare and Contrast

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

First World Problems

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

checking in... more to come

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

Nothing of Substance

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

We are Easter People

Ahhhhhh Easter. The best day of the year.

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

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

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

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

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

Simple Woman's Day Book

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

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

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

Spring spring sprinnnnnggggg

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

What the bic??

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

Just ASK.

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

Looky!!!! Loooooookyyyyy!!!

Tell me about the God You Don't Believe In

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

Bad Attitude.

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

Light a Candle For Me

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

Friend Your Parish!

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

Scandal-itis

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

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?