Aim High, Shoot Low

We are in the midst of the beginning of lots of change in our Archdiocese. I have no idea where I'll be, or what our parish will look like, five years from now. But at least, we're trying to be proactive and do some planning, be transparent and honest, and think big about the possibilities. I'm reading up on pastoral planning and trying to fill my toolbox. In all the leadership books I read, they talk about successful organizations being willing to try new things, to think "outside the box," to be willing to fail and learn and change courses when things aren't working.
I'm cool with that. I want to try new things at the parish, and I'm pretty comfortable with re-do's. I think it's a matter of attitudes, a matter of looking differently at same-old situations. Maybe it's because I'm the youngest kid in my family that I quickly get annoyed at hearing that my ideas won't work, couldn't work, before we get to even give things a try. I've been hearing it since I was little. But hey, maybe that's the life of an innovator.
A couple of years back I started urging the staff at our parish to stop assuming the worst of our parishioners. I wanted us all to stop saying things like "they won't understand" or "no one will come to that" or "that's too serious/deep/traditional/etc. for our people." I wanted us to start saying things like "let's try it, and see who comes" and assuming that our people were faith-filled, wanted to know God and grow in their faith. It was a HARD habit to break, and lately we've begun to fall back into old habits of assuming our people are shallow and half-hearted.
But I'm starting to realize I'm as guilty as my co-workers. As a youth minister, my default position with teenagers was that they didn't know much about the faith, that they were doubters- seekers, but doubters- and that they needed convincing. It's a much more comfortable position to be in as a teacher, where you know more and are more secure than your students. Working with adults, I'm afraid I've kept starting from that default position, assuming the groups I work with are illiterate about the faith. But the fact is, most of the parents in my GOF group are very faithful people, with a real dedication to the Church and to their family's faith. I'm just starting to realize that I need to teach to those people in my groups, rather than shooting for the lowest levels and trying to convince. What does that kind of teaching look like? I'm not so sure... but it's something I want to think about more.
As we begin this scary pastoral planning process, I want us all to go in assuming the best of our people- not to say "this won't work" or "they won't want to do this" but instead, thinking about how this church of people can become better evangelizers, more faithful, grow stronger and go deeper.

And Now, Something Deliciously Different

You should make this tonight. You know why? Because... because Lent is over and Easter's here. Alleluia! Because life is short, and precious, and one day you won't be able to eat anymore. Not even steamed broccoli! It's going to happen, sooner or later. Plus, this is so easy and gratifying and impressive-looking, despite it's simplicity. It's win-win-win. Do it, and eat it lustfully, gratefully, in your favorite, happiest place.

PS: Sorry about the blurry pic, I was quivering.
PSS: Mine came out even more puddingy than the picture at the recipe's page. So. There's that to look forward to.

time to waste is wasted on me

I can't get out of my own way today. It's not that I don't want to do anything, I do. I want to do everything. I'm battling contrary urges to go to work, to stay home, to do some writing, to read that book I bought about writing, to cook something, to clean the kitchen- I do want to clean the kitchen, it looks like we're having an estate sale in there...
I want to plant my garden, which would involve trucking four big bags of soil across the lawn in the wheelbarrow, which is full of lawn clippings, which I'd have to empty, but don't have any of those yard waste bags. I want to rebuild the mesh frame over the garden bed, which will be like wrestling with spider webs. I should be picking the thousands of maple seedlings that are covering my side hill like grass. It hurts my back to think about it all (and yet I want it done so bad and want to be doing it) that I think I ought to do some yoga. I should make massage appointments for us, and one for a perm for me, so I'll have cute curls poking out from under my graduation cap next month, but it's Sunday and tomorrow's a holiday, so I'll have to wait, and when Tuesday comes around I'll be too distracted to make any appointments.
I wish I could do that thing that Samantha did on Bewitched. Not wiggle my nose- I mean, that would be cool, but in reality (?) she couldn't do it either- she mostly just wiggled her pursed lips, and we just went with it, because we knew what she meant to do. I mean the fast-forwarding, the instant-doing. I want to go to work but the picking out the clothes and the showering and the drying and the dealing with my hair and face pre-exhaust me.
So here I am, using my time up until I have to go, have to do something, and the running-out time will direct me to pick what has to be done and ignore what can't be, yet. Okay, here I go.

Standing Room is the FenWay To Go

Way back in time, long before the season opener, I got an email announcing that the Fenway ticket sales had started. I took a wild leap and bought two Standing Room tickets for today, for a birthday present for Scotty. We went in today and it was perfect, start to finish. A gorgeous day, free parking (thanks to a friend with connections!), and a great lunch beforehand at a new place right down the street from the park. Lots of yum!!

We found our standing room area, which has spaces for leaning and such, but that space was taken by the time we got there. Scott eagle-eyed some seats on the third base line, and we headed down. We ended up being able to sit in that (awesome!) section for the entire game, which we WON, with the help of lots of great home runs and heroic plays. Great stuff. It was warm, people were SO cool with us sitting in their 100-dollar-a-seat section with them, and we had a blast. Happy Spring everyone!

To Life!

I am feeling super celebratory. I can feel the Easter spirit, and the fact that Holy Week is over and Easter is here and my feet are just starting to stop hurting and I have almost no meetings this week... I'm gleeful. I'm also feeling like I want to live my life to the fullest this week, mindful of how fleeting life can be. At Hospice training last night our lovely volunteer coordinator reminded us that we should do the things we love, and I know that's true. So tonight we had onion rings and blueberry beer with dinner, and we're about to polish off the pudding cake I made for Easter.
TO LIFE!
On a completely different note, although I hate, loathe, despise and abominate litter, someone dumped a videotape near the on-ramp I take to get to work every day. It has spread along the side of the road and the other side too, and is stuck to the weeds and bridge rails. It sparkles and shines, waves in the wind, and every day when I drive through it, I pretend it's a ticker-tape parade for me. Sometimes I take it as encouragement for what I'm to face that day, sometimes as congratulations for making it to another day, sometimes just cheering me for being me. I wave at it, smile winningly, and head on to work. Everyone should get a ticker-tape parade on their way to work every morning. I don't condone litter, but thanks, VHS litterer, whoever you are!

Holy Week!

I am freaking out. In a good way. It's Holy Week! I can't believe it's actually here, Lent went on for. ever. this year and I failed in almost every way, except actual spiritual growth (thank you silent retreat and spiritual director). In that way, I kicked Lent's butt!! But I failed pretty spectacularly and consistently at everything I attempted to sacrifice. Ah well, we'll get 'em next year.
Soon begins the marathon that is Holy Week at the parish. It's constant movement for three or four days, lots of details to cover and pictures to take and prayers to pray and people to see. Last night we presented a reading of the entire Gospel of Mark, my favorite, to a small but appreciative crowd. It was really cool to hear it all at one sitting, in different voices (one lector per chapter). And it was especially fun to listen to it after having studied it this Lent. I wanted to trade knowing smiles with my fellow BS-ers at the fig tree story, when Peter heard that first cock crow... just a little bit of background on this Gospel gives a much deeper, more nuanced understanding of the story, the writer, and Jesus Himself. Very cool.
I'm not directly in charge of much this year, and with our pastor away, I think there will be lots of indian chiefs on duty, so I will be happy to do the behind-the-scenes work; making sure the Magnifikids are out and the lilies that get delivered to the rectory are all brought over to the church, and to be present to the people in ways that our priests can't be, while they're busy getting ready to try not to get the new translation wrong.
It's supposed to be pretty gloomy at church this week, but it's hard to focus on the bad news while behind the sanctuary, the flowers are being gathered, the decorations are being readied, the preparations for our Easter baptism are being made, and I'm planning the Easter Sunday menu for our day of rest and recovery. We'll be ready to collapse by Saturday night at 10, after having worked all day but hanging in there to clean the church one more time after the Vigil.
I love this week- Scott says it's the Super Bowl of the Church. But this week, we know how the story ends, we know the Good News, and we can't help but get ready to celebrate.

Pen Envy

Today to celebrate my finishing of my graduate project (and with it, graduate school!) I bought myself some snazzy black pens. I love a good pen. When I was in college, if I was blue, I'd buy myself some chocolate and a nice black pen. Over the years I've had favorite pens that I used from start to finish- from brand-new to the last drop of ink. I am not a big fan of ball points with their blobs every couple of lines, and I prefer my pen not to be so inky that it leaks through the paper, but I love a good, dark, smooth line. I still have a few ball points that I bought when my college went out of business, with the name of the school screen-printed on them, and I treasure them.
When I was a kid, I asked for fountain pens on more than one birthday list, and got a few over the years. They weren't as exciting as I'd expected, because I found that you don't have to dip them in wells anymore, and they don't come with feathers. Still, it felt cool to own and write with them.
Every time I need to write something down, there's a conscious decision as to the right pen for the job, even if it's just writing a post-it-note. I loooooove a good pen.
Photo credit to another pen-obsessed blogger!

Silent Reading Time

I just came back from a silent, directed retreat! It was my first time. Outside of dinner on Friday night and two meetings with my director (who, have I mentioned, is an angel) I was silent and loved it. At first it was hard not to be friendly, but then it was so lovely to not have to think of small talk, or to be able to sit and stare out the window without anyone wanting to know what's wrong. SO lovely. I hung out in my room a lot, which no one said was un-sociable, because no one cared, and if they did, they couldn't say so. An introvert's dreeeeeam.
I read three books, which I could almost have imagined that the authors met across time and space to write for me, for this weekend. Here's what I read:

Still: Notes on a Mid-Faith Crisis, by Lauren Winner, of Girl Meets God (another great book). She talks about the middle time of faith, after the rosy glow of conversion wears off. She lost touch with God after a divorce and her mother's death, and while my crisis was of a different nature, I could relate to a lot of what she said. And, she writes like I write, or at least like I think, so she's fun and comforting to read. She's nerdy about faith in the same way I am. I really enjoyed it and did a lot of underlining.


The Personal Vocation: Transformation in Depth Through the Spiritual Exercises by Herbert Alphonso. I have never done the Spiritual Exercises, but heck, I might someday, and now I'm ahead of the game. He talks about defining God's revelation to you personally, and knowing your purpose through what you know about God. He's kind of folksy, but really got to the heart of what I was seeking this weekend.




Life of the Beloved by Henri Nouwen. My first Nouwen book. He wrote it specifically for someone, but it was so for me. He talks about reclaiming our role as the beloved that was ours even before we were born. He talks about being taken (chosen), blessed, broken, and given. Beautiful and moving. I found this one in the library at the retreat center, and considered stealing it. Instead I read it in one big gulp.




And,
Before we even started I found this magazine in the library and read the article called "Feeling with God: Participation in Incarnation" by Allan Schnarr, Ph.D. and as boring as that sounds, it was life-changing. I want Allan Schnarr, Ph.D. to be my therapist. Wowsers.





If you ever get a chance to take a silent retreat, I recommend it. I'm feeling great peace and confidence that I was sorrily lacking before, and a renewed understanding of who I am to God, and what that means for my life. I don't know what will happen for you, but you'll never know until you try. I showed up there at 3:01, anxious to start, and today I wanted to run back to my life. I feel great and strong again. S'good.

Only a Cat

When I opened my eyes this morning, I was already sad. I couldn't decide if I should stay in bed and delay the day's start, or just get it over with. I'd checked on Pip during the night, at about 3:30, and finding her the same as she'd been earlier I put a blanket over her and cried myself back to sleep.
She's not been herself only for about two weeks now- when we took her to the vet they said she had bad numbers which meant very little kidney function. We took her home with an IV bag and Scott heroically administered subcutaneous fluids every couple of days. Pip didn't like it but was a good and patient soldier. Today she was more draggy than usual- I found her in the corner of the dining room, silently hiding but not out of sight. At her worst, she hides in the very back corner, almost out of reach, but this morning she was where we could find her, and throughout the morning Scott and I took turns sitting with her and telling her we love her.


















We made an appointment for 1:30, as we were due at a meeting at work at 11, but since we couldn't stop crying anyway we called out from work and made the appointment earlier. I read up on what happens when you put a cat to sleep, so I could feel more prepared, and after a lovey time together on the dining room floor, we put her in the carrier and took her to the vet.
Her mother, Zarley, is an odd duck- a little bit crazy and also in renal failure, but a little too "special" to feel the effects, I guess. Zarley isn't the empathic type, like Pip was. This morning I came around the corner just in time to see that Pip had gotten to her feet, walked over to where Zarley lay nearby, and put her head down near her. I snapped a fuzzy picture of their last moment together.



















At the vet, we were those people you watch in the lobby, crying and clutching their carrier and trying to make reassuring sounds to their cat. The hospital staff knew we were coming, took us in sweetly and treated us with kindness and compassion. Pip went to sleep in my arms, a sweet honor she paid me, letting me hold her in her last moment. She had never liked to be held.
We agonized over what to do with her. We had options, but we chose to bring her home and bury her ourselves. The process was strangely comforting- I was afraid it would be so awful- but it felt honorable, and it feels better to have her near us in some way, rather than the alternative. We can see the spot where we buried her from our windows. Zarley seems a bit confused (but then, she always seems a little bit confused) and Scott and I have wandered around the house sniffling and crying and trying to distract ourselves.
This is St. Joseph's feast day- our own patron saint, who we have always asked to look after our little family. Our tradition is to go to Mass on St. Joe's day, but we missed it today, for the first time in our marriage. We visited a St. Joseph Parish nearby and prayed at the St. Joseph statue, where suddenly I was crying not just for Pip but for our little lost babies- none of whom we met or got to know like we had our Pipper. We cried for all the losses we have felt in our little family, and we prayed for St. Joseph to keep us in his prayerful care.
Now we're back home and trying to stop crying, reminding ourselves that she was only a cat, but holding each other close because sadness is sadness. And we are sad.

addicted/obsessed

I have spent the last week cycling back and forth between these two songs on my iphone, I don't know what they have in common but I can't stop listening to them. Join me.
NOTE: weirdly, blogger cuts off the right side of the videos, so do go to Youtube to see them in their full awesomeness, mm?

7 Quick Takes, Long and Random Edition.

What? So it's not Friday. Let's agree to overlook this detail.

1) So, I passed my defense and I'm officially done with grad school! As of graduation day, I'll have a Masters of Education in Religious Education with a Concentration in Total Community Catechesis. Or, an MEd in RE with TCC, for short. I'm pretty psyched to be done, and yes, proud that I did this. No one at my high school graduation would ever have imagined I'd end up with this many letters, including myself. I only went to college by the hair on my chinny chin chin. Still, I did a pretty decent job there and here I am today, all mastered up.
2) I'm in a dark night of the soul, and deep. I don't think the word "night" quite covers it, it's been a while and something I've suffered through in varying degrees at different times. At the end of this month I'm heading off on a silent retreat (directed, blessedly, by my own spiritual director, who is both a saint AND an angel) and I have to tell you, the impending silence is a little scary. I imagine I'll have to do a lot of listening for God's voice, and that'll be a change, considering my prayer life with God is more like this, with Dr. Evil as me, and Scott as God:

Still, I know it's time to face up to God and what the heck God wants for and of me. As nervous as I am about the retreat, I also feel like it's an island I'm swimming toward.
3) Meanwhile, our cats are dying. Our oldest, Zarley, is 18 and in renal failure but rebounding nicely, for some unknown reason- my best guess is that she is too... "special..." to die. Zarley's always had issues, but she's a love. Pip, who's 16 or 17 now, is sicker, more suddenly, with renal failure. We know we're in our last months with them, and it's so weirdly shocking to think of life without them. We've been together nearly half my life now, and they've seen me through a lifetime roller coaster of emotions. We want to be good to them and responsible, and we're hoping it'll be a peaceful process and that when the time comes, we'll know what to do. In the meantime, we have an IV bag hanging from the pot rack in our kitchen and a baggy full of needles so that Scott can heroically give Pip fluids subcutaneously every few days. He is my hero and a wonderful kitty-daddy. I know, I know.
4) And meanwhile, I've started training to be a Hospice vigil volunteer. We'll eventually be on call to sit with people in their last hours/minutes, if they don't have anyone to sit with them as they die, or to be there if the family can't be. I'm honored and intrigued to be part of this organization and process. The first week, we heard about the dying process and Hospice's philosophy and mission, and the second week, we heard from a nurse about infectious diseases we might catch. I learned that you should never put your pocketbook down on a soft surface in someone's home, and that you can catch Hepatitis from sushi. Still, I'd rather die from a sushi-related disease than go without it for the rest of my life.
5) In order to be a vigil volunteer, we first have to be direct care volunteers for six months, regularly visiting with people who have less than 6 months to live. Honestly this sounds much more foreboding than being with an actively dying person. How's that for introversion???
6) So now I am on the other side of the volunteering process, and I'm learning a lot about what it's like to be the one volunteering instead of the one looking for volunteers. I really feel called to this volunteer work, for whatever reason. At the first information meeting, they let us know we'd need 9 weeks of training, plus six months of volunteering, plus some more training, and TB testing, and would have to fill out an application and have an interview. There was a minute when I thought "bait and switch!!!" and there have been many minutes when I have thought "I'll see how tonight goes and then decide if I'll go on" but now there's this momentum that is part my wanting to serve, and part my wanting to finish where I started, and partly my wondering what God is calling me to through this.
7) Again, my Lent is a bit of a wash. I had given up rolling my eyes, and have found that as it turns out, I don't roll them all that much. So far, I've not stopped myself from doing it, but I am more aware. I had also given up Bejeweled Blitz, which I'm finding surprisingly hard, and had decided to start walking to daily Mass in the mornings, as I've done in Lents past. But Mass on that first Thursday was too hard for me spiritually, being all DNOTS-ing and all, and my schedule has been crazy. I think the other problem is I'm leading (and reading) a Gospel of Mark BS (that's Bible Study! Come on!) and Mark is all, "the sabbath is for humans, not the other way around" and love over law and all that. Mark always derails my Lents. In all seriousness, I'm doing some serious exploration of the idea of suffering, and what it's about, and that makes it tricky to volunteer for it.

See, now that I'm not in school anymore I can't write enough. Thanks for your patience and good wishes (on Facebook) and all that. And no, I'm pretty sure I won't be going for a PhD. Wouldn't that be a hoot though? Ha!

Famous Last Words (or, Plumb Unlucky)

Last weekend, I glibly wrote this for my column in our bulletin:
This weekend, as I was resting up and trying to shake off a new Spring cold, I heard Scott start to yell from the kitchen. He kept saying “OH NO!!! The ceiling!!! There’s a leak!!” I ran in to see that indeed, there was not just a leak – it was raining in our kitchen! Some work had been done in the upstairs bathroom that week, and that meant water that was supposed to be upstairs, ended up downstairs.
It was a complete mess. We grabbed every piece of Tupperware we have and placed them on the floor to catch the drips, and waited for the landlord to come. In preparation for the workers who will replace the ceiling this week, we moved everything out that we could, and covered the rest with plastic or sheets, in hopes to keep the dust from the construction controlled. But for me, the hardest
part of it all was that I had to take down the many pictures we have on our “wall of love.” The wall of love started with a few pictures, but each year it has grown to cover a whole wall in the corner of our kitchen. All the Christmas card photos of our friends end up on that wall, and I often stand there with a cup of coffee in my hand, looking at the faces of the people that I love and feeling thankful for their presence
on my wall and in my life. So I mourned a little, pulling down all those
pictures before the water could ruin them. I could put them back once everything is dry and fixed, but it'll never be the same.
The more I think about it, the more I like the idea of starting over. The wall is totally blank, just empty space, but I know that by the time Christmas cards start coming again, I’ll have plenty of loving faces to look at over my coffee.
I feel this way about Lent. I give up things that I love every year – not because I want to force myself to mourn, but because I know God will fill my empty places. Feeling the absence makes me appreciate the blessings that come to fill my blank slate. Stripping away some good things reminds me that so many others are without love, and I appreciate the love that I have in my life even more intensely. It’s good for me to return to baseline every year, and build up again from there. I grow deeper in trust from the loss, and deeper in gratitude for the luxury of having something so good to give up.
How’s your Lent going so far? What have you stripped away, so that God can fill in? Even if you still haven’t started yet, it’s not too late. This week, watch as God returns to you what you offer up to Him.

Well I did take all the pictures down, but I saved out four that I decided to keep up. The carpenters came during the week and rebuilt the ceiling, and we put everything back into place, and wouldn't you know it, the ceiling busted open again. I am, as I type, listening to a combination of dripping and plumbing work going on. Our whole house is disrupted, and my day is off to a dry (read: no shower, no toilet!) start. And those four pictures? They were just barely saved from this latest rainstorm.
And that reminded me of Lent too. It made me think that I choose my sacrifices pretty carefully; I'll give up this but I'm definitely keeping that. I don't feel called to give up on that this year. Haven't I sacrificed enough?
Now, I should say that while I get the idea of sacrifice (I really do, you don't have to comment and teach me) and I'm all for it, I also remember that Jesus said the Sabbath is made for us, not the other way around... I don't think sacrificing should be just for the sake of sacrificing. I don't think God rained... rain down upon my four treasured pictures just to prove an ascetic point to me.
It's just that it reminded me that I don't have all the answers, that I can't control my life experience nor my faith experience. And it reminded me that my faith and my beliefs will always be tested- so if I'm going to go off teaching about God through my experience, I'd better be prepared to re-write my lesson plans now and again.
I do have a propensity to try to see challenges as spiritual exercises (although not so much lately as my spiritual muscles have been pretty taxed) and this is no different. Today I'll have to wait to get to work to poop, and I'll hope my hair doesn't look to awful and that no one will be able to smell... ahem, tell, that I've not showered today. And when I feel uncomfortable, I'm going to try to remind myself about those people who haven't showered in a while, who don't know when or where they'll be able to poop next, people who are turned away because they smell... and I'll remind myself to be thankful for all I have.

Simple Woman's Daybook

FOR TODAY 2/25/12
Outside My Window... the wind is blowing like crazy. Scott has taken the curtains down from the living room windows to wash them, so I have a great view of the bare branches bobbing around in this crazy wind. New neighbors are moving in upstairs, so I can hear them chatting and bumping things around. Under the leaves that cover our little gardens, I know there are green shoots coming up- and there are some nice buds on our lilac tree. Spring is battling it out with Winter, and my vote is with Spring. Go Spring!
I am thinking... about the Church- Today John Moe tweeted this: "I know I love public radio: I often find it infuriating, I'm often deeply fond, I always want to change it. I'm never indifferent." I can relate! I find this Church so frustrating and discouraging, and full of hope. I love it and I hate it, and want to stay and want to go. It's a tortured love affair.
I am thankful for... my spiritual director! This woman, who I found through a dear friend, has helped me hang in there for several years now. She points me back to prayer, to conversation with God. She has great insights into my spiritual nature that can pull me back from the brink of real despair. She is a cheerleader and comforter, and I can't help but wonder where my faith would be without her after all this time.
From the kitchen... I'm simmering chili in the crockpot! Yum!
I am wearing... pa-jamas. Natch. But to be fair, I'm fighting off a little cold, so you know what they say: swaddle a cold.
I am creating... not much. I'm between drafts of my grad project, and in the meantime, I'm journaling a lot, after a long time of not writing about things that were going on, since I couldn't blog about it all. But last night I worked with the rest of our staff to create some delicious soup and a good night of fellowship at the parish. We started Soup and Stations as a way to bring people together during Lent, and encourage participation in the stations of the cross, and to help parish ministry groups promote their work. Each year since we've started, the staff has kicked off the first night, and it's always fun. This year we were without our dear friend Anna, who used to bring the "pickies" (snacks) that we'd eat while we cook, along with some good wine. And our pastor, who usually stirs and entertains us, is away on sabbatical. I love this program, and our staff, and the people who came to eat and pray. And the soup we made (Scott and me, that is) was the best. Here's the recipe.
I am going... ton a silent retreat. I've never been on one before (silent, that is) and I'm both looking forward to it, and dreading it. I've been doing a pretty strong job at not listening to God very closely, so I'm a little worried about a whole weekend of silence. At the same time, I feel a lot like it's an island I'm swimming to. I imagine that as soon as I get there, I'll sit down and take a deep breath, and really revel in the solitude (all the while missing Scotty). It's hard to know how it will be, but I'm game.
I am reading... I'm between books! I just finished the Hunger Games series, and that last book is a tough one- really brutal. I actually put it down for a few weeks, but wanted to finish it and get it over with. I am looking forward to the movie, but am wondering if/how they'll portray the third. Wow. I'm ready for some lighter reading. I did just buy Still by Lauren Winner. Might be good retreat reading...
I am hoping... this cold wears off quickly. Maybe I should do another dose of emergen-c. I slept about 12 hours last night, was in bed at 9:30. This is very unusual for me, but I needed it, bad. And I could use a nap.
I am hearing... wind. Lots and lots of wind.
Around the house... Scott is preparing to paint the living room. He has self-diagnosed cabin fever. I'll be sequestered to the bedroom once he starts, which is okay, because... I need a nap.
One of my favorite things... is the pair of slippers I'm wearing right now. Scott and I bought them for each other, matching pairs in different colors, the year we got married. They have our initials on them! And the bottoms are so worn that they're shiny. I've gone to and through new pairs of slippers since these came into my life, (including a yummy warm fleecy pair my sisters gave me and I wore out) but I love these slippers.
A Few Plans For The Rest Of The Week: archdiocesan pastoral planning stuff, meetings, and lots of lenten stuff. Tis the season.
Here is picture thought I am sharing:
the aforementioned shoots! Hooray for Spring!

Let's go!

Well, here I am crying at my desk. It has been a stressful time, but I just ran across this video of Mike Yaconelli, and it's given me goosebumps. Remember this stuff? Remember this feeling? When I started in youth ministry, we were all so brave, and full of excitement. We were on fire for kids, and for God and for the Church and we were so ready to make things happen. At that time, we hadn't even imagined anything like the sex abuse scandal, and the time of paranoia that has followed. We hadn't tasted the kind of fear we know today, and we were able to say "I love teenagers!!!" without some tiny percent of ourselves whispering "oh, does that sound wrong? Creepy? Can I say that? What will people think?"

I wonder what Mike would say about the state we find ourselves in today, suddenly facing a time when we'll be competing with the far to few of us that there are for the jobs in this archdiocese that only ever paid enough for someone to live very simply, or be married to someone with a "real job" anyway. We're looking ahead at a time of taking on the difficult task of trying to hang on to people, forget reaching out to people. We're starting to see a future of traveling between three or four church buildings to try and bring unity among three or four communities, even while realizing that we left our laptop at the other church. Our pensions may be gone, and that matters. Our diocesan offices are decimated, and limping. There is competitiveness and suspicion between the employees of this organization. We are in survival mode.

So when I stumbled across this video today it stirred something inside my too afraid, too academic, too safe, too lazy soul. I want this energy again. I want to say the things Mike says here, I want to go full tilt bore into brave, courageous ministry that begets brave, courageous future ministers. Who's with me?

I had a fight on facebook.

Long ago, I was a social worker for the state. It was, without exaggerating, the most awful job ever. I worked with amazing, dedicated people who tried so hard, despite their enormous, impossible workloads. But as hard and discouraging as it was, I did okay for the most part, and I kept my cool, almost always. One worker told me that I was "human prozac" and I really have taken pride in that, as weird as it may seem. I want to be even-keel, and I don't want to fly off the handle unnecessarily, and I don't want to tilt at windmills.
But I've been growing a little uncomfortable with my closed-mouthness. As much as I don't want to be a screaming mimi, I also don't want to be the kind of person who doesn't speak up against injustices.
Meanwhile, along comes facebook and I have read plenty of arguments and debates since joining up. Some of them are intelligent and persuasive, but mostly it's people who are sure of their opinions, becoming only more sure. And I have been, to my best effort, inscrutable in my facebook postings. I stay out of arguments, I very rarely even hint at my political proclivities, and I don't leave slam comments on even the stupidest statuses.
This week though, I posted an article about the Cardinal's threat against our health insurance (see, even "threat" is not a word I would have used before this week, I know it is inflammatory), and a little debate opened up on my status' comments. Because I couldn't hold back, I answered their comments, stood my ground, and at one point, got a pretty cranky. Finally, after concluding that this would go nowhere I was comfortable with, I ended the conversation.
I'm not a fighter, and I don't debate, but very very verrrrrry rarely. But if I were to fight, then my weapon of choice would be words. So I'm careful not to get into any sqabbles. I remember working at a residential school with teenage boys, talking in group about fights. One boy said "what would you do?? What would you do if they challenged you like that??" I said "I'd run like hell." (Truth is, I can't run either. I'd probably just curl up and hope they wouldn't pull out my hair.)
Anyway, so here I am with a less-than pristine facebook wall, and I'm wondering... should I delete the whole thing? Lots of people have already seen it. I stand by what I said (if not my crankiness) and feel good about standing up for something, even if it finally took something bad coming to me personally for me to finally speak... I do feel conflicted about that.
Well, we shall see. I'm not sure that I want this black mark on my facebook timeline, but I want to be sure about the message behind taking it down. Yeah, I think I'm going to take it down. But I'm not sure why...
photo credit

At the Crossroads

I am in a tricky spot these days. Our diocese is about to undertake a huge reorganization of parishes (still in the consultant phase) which is meant to cut the number of pastors in half, reduce the number of extraneous pieces of real estate, join parishes together in fundraising and Mass attendance, and reduce redundancies (aka... STAFF!). Suddenly a large part of my job is getting the word out about these plans (much more to it than I'm listing here) to our parishioners and gather feedback. So I find myself in this weird position of trying to communicate the possible future to people, all the while knowing that possible future might mean that my job is gone.
On top of that, last night in a meeting at the parish someone mentioned the conscience laws that are being challenged by the president, which would insist that all companies (except church/parishes) would have to provide insurance coverage for contraception. Already the law change would not apply to me or my fellow co-workers, and honestly I don't even know anyone who would want that kind of coverage from the parish for whom they work. But this week, the Cardinal published a letter with a threat included that if the law passes, the Church will be forced to either go against their own conscience or to STOP PROVIDING HEALTH INSURANCE TO ITS EMPLOYEES.
Remember, this rule already doesn't apply to me and my colleagues. In Fact, Cardinal Sean's threat is empty: it's against the law for Massachusetts citizens to go without health insurance, so if the Church doesn't provide it, its employees will have to turn to another source. By law, of course, any alternative source will have to cover things like contraception. Far from barring his employees from contraceptive coverage, Cardinal Sean will be forcing it upon us.
To me, it's a clear sign that the Cardinal doesn't trust that his employees, even if offered this benefit, wouldn't necessarily use it. (Of course, he's probably right about that!) And it's also a sign that he doesn't have any confidence in his ability to persuade his employees to do the right thing through teaching the Truth of the faith. He doesn't believe that what the Church teaches about contraception will bear any weight, and he doesn't believe that his word has any weight. He is only able to find persuasive power in threats. If he's right about that, then we are indeed in bad shape.
My husband and I will not be able to pay for our own health insurance, and will have to end our ministries in the Church. In fact, I don't know anyone who works for a parish who could pay for their own insurance for the rest of their ministerial careers.
So last night, there I was leading a parish meeting when this bill was brought up, and the parishioner who mentioned it urged us all to contact our representatives. Was it wrong for me to mention the Cardinal's threat? Or to urge them that while they're contacting the government, they might also call the Cardinal's office and remind him how wrong it would be to cancel the insurance and therefore the ministries of the employees who sat before them?
I don't know. I am not sure what my right response is to all this. And I do want to do what's right. If I'm going to lose this job, I want to leave it having fought for justice. I don't want to bite my tongue to keep my job, like I have done in varying degrees for so long. I want to do the Lord's work. I know that in this archdiocese, it's risky even blogging about this, exposing my own opinions. I guess we'll (pray) what happens.

The Life-long Mind-set

Now that my synthesis has been submitted, and I'm waiting to hear if the readers can tell what it was I was trying to say, I've been thinking a lot about lifelong faith formation and how different it is, mind-set-wise, from the "traditional" classroom model. Specifically about how thinking of faith formation as life-long frees everyone from the panic attached to a graduation-like Confirmation day. DRE's who assume young people will leave their programs on Confirmation day are concerned that they only have up until that day to teach the kids everything. Everything. So their programs are back-filled from that day, and packed with all the important topics. Textbooks are bought and used and finished, dammit, by the end of the year, so that the DRE can know that all the students are right where they're supposed to be.
Here's an example of a situation where this fear-based model came up against a need for pastoral care (in my opinion) and fear won.
Many years ago I got a call from a DRE in a neighboring town, who had just learned that in one year, 4-5 parishes in their town would be merged into one, with the others closing down for good. She wanted help figuring out how to merge the several programs into one, smoothly. The parishes that were closing were small, but historic, and some had strong devotions and some had ethnic religious practices associated with their parish.
Perfect! I suggested that they use the year to make the transition. I suggested they change their schedule to 5 sessions (or maybe that's all they had planned anyway? I can't remember, it was that long ago) and have each parish host one of the sessions. The host parish could serve dinner in their parish hall, featuring foods that reflected the ethnic or devotional background of their church. They could take their guests on a church tour, sharing the emotional connections and histories of the various characteristics of their church, and they could teach about what it has meant for their families to be part of their parish. By the end of the year, each parish would have had a chance to share their parish with the others, and would know each other, and would have learned about different devotions and ethnic practices, and have an understanding of the heartbreak their new parish-mates would be experiencing, too. They'd finish the year at the surviving parish, celebrating their new all-saints-or-whatever parish with a unique understanding of its situation in history.
Even as I write this, I think this whole plan would be awesome! So much good could come from a plan like this. But the DRE there just couldn't do it. She couldn't "waste" a whole year on this plan, because she had curriculum to cover. So, she didn't. She just went on as usual, hoping more volunteers would show up to cover the more kids she would have.
Maybe it went just fine, and probably the parish has merged successfully and is doing just fine. But this, I think, is a good example of the different ways of looking at formation. In a lifelong model, you can let go of the fear that you're running out of time to teach, because you have their whole lives long. And you can open up to the idea that many different ways of learning and teaching are acceptable. You can consider a year of pastoral care a very good use of your parish's time.

The news from inside my chest

So, I have this flutter. That is, my heart has a flutter- feels kind of like when you'd swallow a pop rock, and you could feel it popping way down in your chest... remember that feeling? Anyway, it happens several times a week, at random times, and the worst it gets is giving me a feeling like I have to cough. I've had it for two years now, and have been on heart medicine (the same kind my parents take... neat, huh? Weirdly, this medication is also prescribed for people who suffer from stage fright...) have worn a 24 hour monitor, had an EEG, and it's been no big whoop. But apparently the medicine was supposed to have had some effect on the flutters, and it hasn't, so this year my pcp sent me to a real live cardiologist.
He was nice, and not bad to look at, and seemed very calm. He said "you could leave here and not take any tests or anything, and probably be fine, but I'd like you to do one test... a 30-DAY MONITOR!" He didn't say it in caps, actually, he said it totally nonchalantly, like oh, you know, a month on a heart monitor.
So now I am wired, and when I have a flutter, I press "record" and it beeps for 30 seconds. This is tricky if, like when it happened last week, I was in a meeting or like Friday night, when I was in the chapel.
I have a bad attitude about this and the stupid pack I have to carry around, and the stupid wore patches that are already leaving big nasty red marks on my skin, and the obnoxious beeping. But as my pastor has said now, twice, and so comfortingly, "you know for some people, the only symptom of heart disease is DEATH." He is a survivor of a triple bypass, so I guess he knows whereof he speaks, but still.
Curiously, my only fear in this all is that I am really just crazy and don't even have a flutter! It has been a very stressful time lately, and I was a little bit worried that they'd just tell me I was having panic attacks. I know that sounds crazy in itself, after all, panic is probably not as bad for me as my heart tweaking out. Anyway, today when I phoned in my "events" the tech said "oh there are some extra beats in there but nothing we have to call the doctor for." I didn't even know that was part of the monitor plan, but I was glad to hear that there really was bona-fide fluttering going on, in my heart, rather than my head.
On a related note, I need to buy some scarves and/or turtlenecks!

Who's cool?

I wish I could remember what movie I was watching recently when one of the characters was asked about the secret of life, or was it growing older? Anyway, his answer was that when you get older, you stop caring about being cool, and you throw away your dungarees (his word, not mine) and you get some nice, loose-fitting slacks.
I kept thinking about this as I was shopping this weekend with my Christmas gift cards. I could get anything I wanted (you know, up to a limit), and what I really wanted was some LONG JOHNS. It has been hovering at under 10 degrees F here all weekend, and I've been wanting some for a while anyway, along with some nice knee socks, because I am so tired of having cold calves!
I have never been all that stylish, and between bouts of trying to be cool at various appropriate ages, mostly my philosophy has been similar to Gilda Radner's: "I base my fashion sense on whatever doesn't itch."
So today I'm snug and warm in my high socks and long johns and I get this secret of life. Warm is better than cool.

Who's in the Pew?

I went to Mass at a parish not-my-own today, and as always it was a good experience, spiritually and professionally. I feel like I always learn from visiting other parishes, from what they do better than we do, and from what they don't do as well as we do. This parish had beautiful music, and helpful guides for the Mass parts (although the congregation was about 50% successful on the whole "and with your Spirit" thing).
Mass has been an emotional experience for me lately, because there is so much going on in our Archdiocese, and things are very tense among those who are paying attention. Those of us in the know (and it's not that we know a secret, the word is out about the upcoming changes, but somehow every time I mention it to a non-staff person, everyone seems surprised) can feel the anxiety like a weight, as we look to the future without a real vision of where we will be a year from now.
So while I sat there in my pew, surrounded by strangers but feeling at home, I thought about all the different people there and how varied their situations are. It reminded me that at any given Mass, any one or all of these people may be in the pews:
People who are stressed out and need to hear something hopeful
People who are elated and in the throes of a new love with God
People who are mired in doubt
People who are solid and strong in their faith
People who are hearing God's voice through the music
People who are doing internal exegesis on the Gospel
People who are on the verge of giving up on their faith
People who are back for the first time in years
I could go on, but you get the point.
I know this is true, because at various times in my life, I've been each of those people. It's sort of awe-some to think about the challenge of reaching out to all these people in all these situations, and more, but it's possible for God. Even though the movement is the Holy Spirit's, I want to always remember to be hospitable to all the fragile souls who fill the pews in our church every week.