early graduation

Augh I'm frustrated. I'm nearing the end of my first semester of grad school and wanting it to be my last. Mostly, the trouble is that we just can't afford this. It's a big chunk of money on top of all our already-bills, and let's face it, a bad investment. It won't lead to a higher income when I'm done, and I've pretty much hit the ceiling for advancement in the Archdiocese o'Boston. Basically, it's a very very expensive hobby. I've gotten great help from the college, and from my pastor, but our budget really doesn't have any wiggle room, at all.
So, maybe it would be worth the added time and stress that it undoubtedly has added to my life, if it were flat-out free. But it's so. Not.
It's not final, the final-ness, but we'll see what happens from here... in the meantime I've got a stupid paper to finish. Ugh- I'm paying to write papers!!!

cry-oldie

I don't know if I'm in peri-menopause, or peri-peri-menopause, or maybe I'm just stressed (it's hell-week; GOF this Sunday and the big paper due next week, and tons to do before surgery in December...) but I have some serious hotness every once in a while, I am tired a lot, and I sleep much less soundly. And, darn it, I cry more!
Loyal readers (hello, all 6 of you) will know that I am not against crying. I believe it's a useful thing, and I feel the effects if I go too long without indulging my need to shed a few. But lately almost every week at Mass, some song will hit me, or the face of someone will touch me, or the sound of voices praying or singing in unity will send me swooning.
Tonight I'm crying over Grey's Anatomy. One thing that will, for sure, get me crying is a story where a spouse dies... it's the scariest thought ever, to me, the thought that kept me awake nights when we got engaged, the thought that makes me call him compulsively when I haven't heard from him in a while... with much love comes much risk. It's the best risk I've ever taken, and the scariest. Maybe it'd be easier to deal with if I didn't watch so many medical dramas!

Promises and promises!

As a parish employee with no real job description and an invented title, the thought of having to be re-elected to your job every now and again is intriguing to me. I don't have any set standards by which to measure my job performance- there aren't any other Parish Formation positions out there. As Youth Ministry Coordinator, it's easy to figure out the rules, and to know what a good YMC does there are even books about what one should strive for and accomplish in one's first two years.
So, I try to stay busy and productive, try to initiate new things as often as I can manage, and try to be as helpful to everyone else as I can. I try to be able to make a list of things I've accomplished or started or taken on- actual, visible things. I'm not sure what the expectations are for me, or if anyone's expectations of me match anyone else's. But as a YM guru said once (I forget which guru), hey- there's no history of failure to overcome. I guess, with no job description, maybe no one will notice if I fail. How would they know, right?
So when I was listening to the pundits and critics and talking heads on the radio and tv I wondered what they might say about me if I was trying to be re-elected to my job. There are definitely improvements I need to make, but I hope that my parishioners (the percentage who would vote, anyway) would vote me in.
Four More Years! Four More Years!!!!

Election night

Here we sit, waiting for the election results to roll in. I'm almost as interested to hear the numbers of people who voted as I am in hearing the results.

Just now, CNN "beamed in" Will.I.Am to be interviewed, as a hologram... he's all graphic-looking, and standing on a red dot. Now that's technology- the whole production is so Jetsons.

I was excited to vote this morning, and proudly wore my "I Voted Today" sticker, even though I didn't have a chance to get my free coffee or ice cream with it. It was a novel experience to feel pride in the voting booth. I hope this is the beginning of something very good, no matter who wins.

When I was a kid, I was taught that you shouldn't ask people how they voted, and you don't ever have to tell anyone how you vote. When I hear people ask each other nowadays I often jump in and say "you don't have to answer that!" This year it seemed that everyone was hot to tell everyone else how they voted, and how they should vote. The Catholic blogosphere has all weighed in on how Catholics should vote. I do believe that how we vote is a privileged, private bit of information, and I don't share my choices. Partly because I don't want to debate with anyone, and partly as a matter of principle. Ballots are private for a reason.

Anyway, that said, I'm very hopeful that as a country we can turn a new corner, no matter who is elected. Change, I believe, is coming.

To the edge, but not over it.

I've been feeling kind of doomy all week, and that, coupled with the fact that I've been remarkably prescient lately (like when I knew the yoyo that PJ was playing with would shoot off the end of the string. I was wrong about it decapitating me, but still...) really did make today's call-back visit to the Mammogram center a real bummer.
My First Time was last week, and went quickly- the tech was sweet and I could tell she has a lot of experience working with nervous women- but I didn't need a lot of comforting, I knew what to expect and it was such a quick process.
But they called me back, like she warned me (everyone warned me) that they might- it being my first time, with nothing to compare the pictures to, etc. etc... and today I headed back to the Breast Health Center. Scott came with me because he is the sweetest, most loving, most supportive person, really, in the entire world. I'm not even exaggerating. He had to wait in the waiting room all by himself the whole time, and it took a while.
They re-did my mammo's, then asked me to stay for an ultrasound. I finally got to go tell Scott what was going on, but then had to leave him again and head in to the ultrasound. While I waited, though, the women in the inner waiting room swapped stories and "what are you in for?" tales. One woman came back from her ultrasound and told us that they were sending her for a biopsy as a result of the ultrasound. I remembered reading that 1 in 9 women get breast cancer (really, that can't be right, right?) and counted the women I'd shared the waiting room with.
Ultrasounds have not been good to me, overall, and it was a weird feeling to be stretching out on another bed like that, with the same sheets, next to that machine again, staring at the ceiling again. It was hard not to feel gloomy.
The punch line is, everything's fine. The lovely tech checked in with me as I was leaving and I told her everything was fine- she said "I thought so... I wanted to say so but I'm not allowed!" Scott was waiting for me and I think not breathing for the whole time I was in there (which was about an hour and a half) and I was happy to tell him that Everything Is Okay. We hugged and smiled all the way to the car, and now, everything is back to normal. All is well. Thank God.

It's the October of my 40th year

Remember transformation in two-thousand-eightion? It's going well. I got my hair did, got my teeth cleaned, went for a physical. I still need to get glasses, and in December I'm having some major-to-minor surgery (that's a hint!) in early December. I haven't lost any weight... but I did start grad school! And, hey, I turned 40. That's something.
Maybe it's the anti-mid-life crisis. So far, so good- I feel like I've accomplished a lot, or at least have begun to accomplish a lot. It feels good! I'm even getting some good grades! My Mom told me the other day that I'm turning out to be smarter than they thought I was. So, that's always good to hear.
I think I'll extend the transformation year into 2009... finer in two-thousand-niner? I think it's fair to go straight through till my 41st birthday.

I'm so not Italian... but I'm a big fan of their food (and families)!

This weekend it was the circle of life, Italian style. I'm working on some good one-liners, like "more cleavage than an Italian wake" or, "how many black cows have to die for an Italian funeral?" They're still rough, I'm working on them.
We went to the funeral of a co-worker's father, and it was beautiful testament to the man and his family. He was a war hero, and a policeman in the town, then a restaurant owner- he built a royal family and was much respected- the line at 7:00 to enter the wake was a block long, and we waited an hour.
The funeral was impressive too, crowded. Scott leaned over at one point and said "not a lot of blondes here..." and I said "and NO natural blondes!" Sorry, I know, not nice... but Scott's half Italian so by marriage, I'm allowed. But anyway. There were 18 pall bearers, and so many people filed in with the family. The stories told about him were impressive- not just the stories of heroics on the job, but of his prayer life and deep faith.
Then, today, it was a Baptism- one baby (we usually have up to 6 at a time) and she was surrounded by a doting fan club- when the pastor asked the godparents if they were ready to support the parents in bringing the child up in the faith, they said "OH yeah!!" enthusiastically- and I believed them. There was a lot of love in that chapel.
The best part of working in a parish is being able to witness these moments in people's lives. Even the hardest times, in loving families, just brings focus to the one thing that bonds them together, keeps them strong, defines them as family- the love and devotion they have for one another.

Sorry Sandi, I'm sure it's pretty in Alaska too!

I have been loving Fall this year- our big tree is absolutely gorgeous right now and every surface outside is covered with red and yellow and orange. Walking out of the house feels like walking into a Fall-themed snow globe. And we've been blessed with days warm enough that coats are... optional! Here are some pictures from our yard this past weekend-

Some birds take advantage of our garden furniture:




































the last of the neighbor's tomato crop

And another thing... (two new posts)

I met with another wonderful young woman today who I met many years ago (it's hard to believe I'm old enough to say that- she was in high school when we met and now is in grad school. Yikes. But anyway...). We are a lot alike, I think, and both talk fast so though we don't see each other a lot, we get in a lot of talking when we do.
One thing I asked her today was "isn't it strange when your life begins to diverge from your friends' lives?" and she said "YES!!!" I was happy to know that this strange realization wasn't just something that I noticed...
(Like tonight I notice that I am writing rambling, too-detailed intros before getting to my point.)
I have a group of girlfriends with whom I worked at a group home (for adolescent girls) when we were in our 20's. It was hard work, full of drama and crisis and fun times and touching moments. Some of our group worked at the boy's home across town. Some of us worked there for years, others were more temporary. But our time there brought us together as friends, and we've made it a point to stay in touch and get together every now and again- we always have a blast.
But my life is not like their lives. They have kids, they live in communities and their lives sort of revolve around their families and their kids' schools and activities. I'm so not maternal or aunt-y. I'm not a babysitter and am too busy to go watch their kids' games or concerts or shows. I'm the Churchy one, working in a parish and pursuing a Masters in Churchy Stuff. They are all Christians of one type or another, but I'm the minister. I guess if I were more aunty I'd be more in-touch with their lives, but it is a commonly-held understanding that even if I visit one of them in the hospital after they have kids, they won't pass the baby to me. I just don't really know how to hold 'em. Well, I can hold them, but passing is beyond me.
But my friend and I today were amazed at the realization that what bonds us with our friends isn't our common life-plans, but our memories and our relationships at their very heart.
Anyway, my life is full and fun and I am happy in it, even if I feel a bit out of pattern when I visit with my friends, I still love seeing them, laughing with them, and hearing about their lives, as foreign to me as mine is to them, I expect.

Catholic Identity

This week I met with a young woman who I met when she was a middle schooler in my first parish. I remember her a slight, sweet girl with a happy smile- at the time I was doing an A-Z model for middle school youth group, where each week we did a different letter of the alphabet for our theme: apathy, bummers, caring, etc. The nights topped off with "can you __________ this?" It was "can you throw this?" "can you eat this?" etc. She beamed through every game and seemed like she loved it. I remember her smiling up at me and telling me how much she liked youth group, saying "You have the best prizes!"
She's an adult now- has gone to and graduated from college, and is now married to a Navy man and living in Virginia! She told me that she and her husband have found a church that they love down there, and she's feeling strong in her faith life, with this new faith community.
I asked her a question that I also recently asked another of my former youth groupers. "Do you still consider yourself Catholic?"
Of the three young women that I keep in touch with from this era/parish, one went to a Catholic college and the other two went to secular schools and/or Gordon College. Both of the non-Catholic school girls said, when I asked them that, "Not really." Both still have some connection to the Catholic Church through family and attend Mass when they come home from school, but they seem to have a deeper identity with Christianity as a whole, than with Catholicism.
I don't necessarily believe that staying Catholic is the mark of a good/effective youth minister, but it does make me think that YM's must must must focus on Catholic identity- helping kids find and form their identity as Catholic.
I'm not sure how this can happen- the young woman who has remained Catholic (enough to seek out Mass to attend while living in NYC on her own over the summer) comes from a strongly Catholic family, a Mass-going family. I imagine there's nothing a YM can do to trump a Catholic family, but... there must be something we CAN do.
As soon as I figure it out, I'll let you know...

Mt. 25:14-30

So when our parish went to knock down the old convent on our grounds we found a beautiful statue of Mary, tucked in between the bramble bushes in the cloister at the back of the building. But for one missing horn (under her feet) and a lot of dirt and grime and bird poop, she was remarkably pristine and we were overjoyed that she was in such good shape. It was resolved that she would be cleaned up and restored and put in the new park that was to replace the convent.
About a month ago, our priceless statue came back from where it had been restored, a glowing bright white and now smooth surface, it is absolutely beautiful. But what happened next is so interesting to me. The statue was installed, and with her, a sense of fear. What if it was vandalized? Someone would surely come along and spray paint her, break off her fingers, smash this beautiful and literally-priceless possession. So, soon, the talk started as to how to protect it.
Now there is an iron fence surrounding this statue, with a big steel padlock on it.
The whole thing reminded me, somehow, of all the toyshops I've been in where the owners of the store clearly hated kids. Maybe you too have been in toy shops where the person behind the counter eyes your child suspiciously or follows along behind you putting right everything a child has touched. That always blew my mind.
I guess owning something of value brings with it some pressure to keep it valuable, but a part of me wants to be generous and trusting of the people in our neighborhood. The statue could have easily been damaged in the many, many years it was hidden from view and now it is in plain sight, with heavy traffic going by it at all times of the day. But of course, I might be being naive. And maybe it's good enough for everyone to be able to admire this statue from a distance... but I dunno.

Day-trippers

Having two days off in a row, and a house that needs cleaning, and homework, and work to do for...work, we decided to spend Friday on a day trip (because hey, why not? We had a whole Saturday to get stuff done in). We headed toward Salem for coffee after lunch and I beat Scott at checkers, after phoning-a-friend (PJ, of course) to remind us how to play. It's been a while!
We went to Marblehead to find the Catholic Church there, called St. Mary Star of the Sea. Here's what she looks like:


















Then Scott took me to a cool nature conservancy in Salem, and led me along a path through tall grass and oak trees and over a swampy river. No mosquitos and not quite time for the sun to set, it was the perfect temperature, and not toooo muddy.


















Scott leads the way


















swamp corn












After that, we poked around in a Salem State College building that was formerly a Catholic school. One building led to another via bridge, then that building led to another by tunnel, and then came another tunnel. Scott loves checking out buildings like this, and while I get a little nervous about the trespassing end of it, he does make snooping fun.
























After our travels we went back to Salem for a dinner date and a walk around the Halloween-y section of town. It was a very romantic and fun day, and the work at home, well it waited patiently and was all there for us to do today.

so, how'd you do on your paper?

So.... I got to class today after already being at school for a couple of hours- I went in for the noon Mass and then had lunch with the other TCC students. There are only 5 of us- an elite group. The discussion was about how to get more people to come and do this program, but all I could think was that I don't particularly want the grant money that is now only divided between us 5 to be doled out to anyone else.
Anyway, at class, our professor started by announcing that the papers were fine first papers. She told us that a C+ is a passing grade and getting that grade should not discourage anyone, that their comments (hers and the Teaching Assistant's) were meant to help us develop the writing skills we'd need. She said they'd be giving feedback even if we got an A- (which would be an outstanding grade for a paper in this class).
Then, two hours and fifteen minutes of class.
Then, she handed out the papers. I grabbed mine and ran, it had no marks on the front page really but I could see the word "good" written twice on the second page- encouraging! I flipped over to page three for the grade...
A-!!! How about that?? I'm pretty excited. Now I have another paper to write, for tomorrow's class. I hope it goes as well. But in the meantime, Woo! A Minus!!! WOOOO!!!

studious

I'm happy to report that my study habits have indeed improved since my undergrad days. I actually do the reading now, and even take notes on what I read. I'm not sure which books I'll be keeping and which I'll be selling back to the bookstore for a serious loss (although it is becoming clearer as time goes by. Systematic Theology Vol. 1 is TOTALLY going back, because it is almost completely incomprehensible. And miserable. The authors start everything by backpedaling and parsing thoughts and such. Something like: Before we begin to talk about the existence of God, we must first explore the concept of existence. A, B, and C (theologians) all think existence is this, and we talk about it for four pages, each... but they are wrong. Existence is this... it's just excruciating, and I want to scribble in the pages JUST GET TO THE POINT BUSTER because it could, ultimately, be written in one sentence. So that book... GONE. ASAP.) so I have been taking notes rather than underlining and highlighting, mostly, which helps me process what I'm reading a bit better.
I promise a paragraph like that will never go in any of my papers. Promise.
As for assignments, I must confess though, not much has changed- I still can't seem to get a word in print until the day before it's due. Someone told me once that this is called "pre-writing," not "procrastinating," which I totally, totally agree with.
Tomorrow I may be getting my first paper back, which I may mention here tomorrow, depending on how I do. It might be time to get much more private about my studies.

Tag!

I spent the day (while lounging around watching old movies) tagging many of my blog entries. Not because I think you (dear reader) will ever want to go looking for any mind-blowing entries in the throes of nostalgia for my reading, but because nowadays, when I go to write about something, I often feel like I've written it before. With tags, I can see if I've already written a scathing comment on the Archdiocese of Boston's Office of Youth Ministry and Etc. or falling down my front steps and crying or my high school boyfriend. So, not much really has changed here for you (DR), but you can hereby assume that anything you read here is first-run.

Graduate level anxiety. In Georgia.

Oh gosh. My first two papers in... well, many years. They're little ones, three-pagers, and double-spaced (I forgot about double spacing, I probably would have gone back to school years ago if I'd remembered about double spacing... what a difference that makes in filling a page!) so the writing part isn't the hard part so much as the details of paper-writing. I can't remember the details.
Do I indent at every paragraph? Do I staple the pages? Number them? Am I plagiarizing and not even knowing that I'm doing it? What size font?
My first paper is for a professor who gave us two options of what to tackle. About a page on comprehension, about a page on analysis, and about a page on "good constructive thinking." She gave us a list of expectations and directions, really- a list- which we all furiously tried to scribble in our notes, then sent us off with these words "but don't stress about this!" We laughed.
I just spent a bit of time googling for help on these questions. I found an article by a grad student whose grades improved when she switched from Times New Roman to the Georgia font. Just to be sure I checked the Chronicle of Higher Education forums for a discussion there- they all mentioned both those fonts and I felt encouraged by their comments about Georgia, so I went ahead and changed mine over- which meant having to fiddle with the type size to fit it into three pages (exactly, as it turned out!), but they seemed pretty much equal, all things considered.
So, whether it's done right or wrong, one paper's done and one's still yet to be written. Wish me luck!

inform-form-transform

Tonight on my way home from work, I treated myself to an old time radio show. I listened to Lucille Ball's "My Favorite Husband" and the episode was called "Liz learns to swim." The basic premise was that Liz wanted to go to the beach for Summer vaca, while her husband wanted to go the the Weeping Willow Dude Ranch. (She explained that after one meal at the "chuck wagon", she knew why the willows were weeping_ good line!)
Her husband said he'd be willing to go to the beach if Liz would learn to swim. (We'll ignore the sexism that riddles these old radio shows and instead talk about the cool insight I got from the show. Hang on, here it comes!) Liz called her next door neighbor, who comes to her house, explains the physics of water displacement, has her try the swim strokes on the floor of their living room, and tells her proudly that she can swim.
It all made me think about the conversations we've been having at school about the primary goal of faith formation/catechesis/religious education. I read tonight that the goal of catechesis should be "spiritual maturity." However, for years our education programming has not been developed to reflect a goal anywhere near that. Today my professor described it as "pouring from a jug into a mug."
I'm thankful to be working at a parish which takes this idea seriously. I'm thinking particularly of education toward Confirmation. Work has been done in the past several years (by the brilliant youth minister) to broaden the scope of "sacramental prep" from just preparing for the sacramental moment of Confirmation day, to a lived way of life in faith that much more accurately describes the life that a Confirmed Catholic should be living. It makes a difference in the faith and development of young people and it makes a difference in the parish as a whole. It's a good difference.
The saying goes "sitting in Mass doesn't make you a Christian, any more than sitting in a garage makes you a car." You can't learn to swim by studying physics on a living room floor- it may help, but it is not the same as actually getting in the water and giving it a go.

Waaaaah!

I fell down the front steps at our house today, on my way out to work. I dropped everything I had in my hands (lunch, bag, keys, etc...) and ended up splayed across the steps with what I know will turn into a fantastic bruise.
I stood up, hoping no one had seen, and went in the house, and started to cry. And then I couldn't stop crying. I wasn't in pain, really, and I was glad to have been able to get up in one piece, but I just started crying and couldn't stop. Scott was indisposed but was yelling encouragement from where he was, but I didn't need help, really- I knew I just needed to keep crying until I was done.
Once I told a young girl in my youth group that crying is like sneezing. Sneezing, as I understand it, is designed to expel whatever irritant you have in your system. I think for me, and maybe for women in general (although I have not tested that theory) crying serves the same purpose- it gets out something that is irritating our emotional system. All during that crazy week when I felt so stressed out and overwhelmed, I didn't cry at all- so I guess I had some buildup.
I'm not an easy crier. I don't generally fall to tears at slight provocation, and although I may tear up at sad movies and such, that's about where it ends. But a few years ago, for my New Year's resolution, I decided that when I felt like laughing, I would laugh- and when I felt like crying, I would cry. So this morning, when I felt like crying, I just let it flow- even though I wasn't exactly sure what I was crying about. (I guess you don't have to worry over what I'm sneezing about when I sneeze, so maybe I don't have to worry so much about what I'm crying about, when I cry...)
The only drawback to this vow is that when I do cry, my upper lip swells. I end up looking... well, pretty scary, and it takes a while for it to come back down. Note: trust me, do NOT google-image "swollen upper lip."
Anyway, on with my day. Watch your step out there, ladies and gentlemen.

simple woman's day book for this week

FOR TODAY 09/12/08...
Outside My Window... the rain threatens, like it's done all day- the Sox are rained out but here it's just sprinkles.
I am thinking... about the delicious dinner we just finished. YUM, comfort food: meatloaf, mashed potatoes (with cream cheese and our own garden's chives and cheeeeeese on top) and brussels sprouts. I know, I know, but we like 'em, and we toss them (that is, slather them) with butter and parmesan cheese.
I am thankful for... the lazy day today- I keep reminding myself of the giddy fact that we have tomorrow off too- so nice!
From the kitchen... Oh, I guess I jumped the gun there... but later from my kitchen, brownies.
I am wearing... yoga pants! And a Life Is Good T-shirt. So, basically (and more fancifully named) Loungewear.
I am creating... next year's garden! I planted some bulbs today, and trimmed back the poor hydrangea that was slowly dying in the corner of the yard. I harvested some seeds from whatever that yellow flower is in my window box, and spread some forget-me-not seeds in the garden. I'm going to try bringing in several of my plants for the winter and see how we do. I'm going to let my ignorance of the wisdom of this plan be my guide.
I am going... to try to spread this rainy-day goodness well into tomorrow.
I am reading... I'm not, but I should be! I've got homework to do! Systematic Theology and Horizons & Hopes, and some articles.
I am hoping... that Scott will leap up from his seat and put the leftovers away and clean the kitchen.
I am hearing...the wind in the leaves outside my window. It's the perfect combination of Summer and Fall today.
Around the house... some laundry piled here and there, dirty dishes, books to be read, a bed to be made... you know, stuff that shouldn't be done on a lazy day like this.
One of my favorite things... is hot brownies and cold milk! Yeah! Coming right up!
A Few Plans For The Rest Of The Week: dinner with the in-laws tomorrow night, a busy Sunday, and then back in the throes of things. This week we really hit the ground running at work, with all the fun (and I do mean fun!) that entails.
Here is picture thought I am sharing... oh gosh, let me see...
Here's a picture I took on the day of my birthday party, as the sky was starting to clear:

40 and free (two new posts)

I've been making a list in my newly-forty-year-old head of the things that I don't have to ever do again, if I don't want to. It's 'cause I'm 40, dammit, and I don't have to. Here are the ones I've come up with so far.
- be a bridesmaid
- wear really high shoes.
- go to a pool party
- try skiing again
- take a math class

This is not the definitive list, I'm sure I'll come up with more... I used to wonder how it felt for my parents, as they aged, to realize that there were things that they would never do again. My dad used to ski, and I remember wondering if, the last time he skied, he knew it was his last time. I have decided that as I age, I'm going to look at it differently, appreciating the things that I will never have to be burdened with again, instead of losing opportunities and experiences. Maybe someday, at a later age, the other list will start to lengthen, but for now, my growing list is of freedoms. This is fun stuff to think about.