Onward! To ordination…

Today, I had the joy of watching two friends be ordained as pastors, plus the joy of seeing other friends who were ordained earlier in the summer. What was especially wonderful to me was that at certain points, we were the same goofy group who laughed together so much last year at the seminary. At other points, we took the ordination services today very seriously, with the weight of realization heavy upon us - this is that to which we have been called.

In the Lutheran tradition, we are called - by God, and by congregations. We do not proclaim ourselves as pastors, but rather, our calls to ministry are affirmed by the Church in a myriad of ways. Sometimes, these ways seem so trying - the hoops we jump through can be so tedious, and the road can be so long!

However, somewhere in my own pre-ordination hoop-jumping process this past year, I actually found myself giving thanks for the road, the process, and (gasp!) even the hoops, for they all mean that not only am I hearing some call of God, but others are hearing it for me, too. And there is a great sense of relief in that for me.

Back to my friends - newly “pastorized” - the relief was palpable today - they made it to this point! The joy, the reality of the yoke, and the sheer exhaustion was also there. But - it’s all OK - the Holy Spirit was also there: fully, lovingly, and joyfully there.

Thanks be to God!

I’m sorry, it just sucks

Today, I got to drive my lovely VW all over town. Lots going on today - lots of places to be, etc. etc.

That was not the issue. The issue is that we had to drive MY car (hubby’s was in the shop) and my car currently has NO A.C.!!! And in central Texas, in August - I’m sorry, it just sucks to drive without A.C.

A few weeks ago I was feeling noble about all this because I had made up my mind not to be bothered by this development. I kept telling myself that at least I’m not a roofer, working in central Texas, in August. Or at least I’m not a yard guy, working in central Texas, in August.

Today, as I drove all over town, cursing each time I had to stop at a light, my former nobility went out the window! Funny how that happens.

About the only calming thing I found was to put a U2 CD on repeat - on the song, “Grace” (from All That You Can’t Leave Behind). Ironic that this song would be the calming one, when one of the lines is “Grace finds beauty in everything…”

So, now, in my air-conditioned home, sitting under a ceiling fan, after a tall glass of water and a lovely cantaloupe margarita, I will ponder the beauty in driving around with sweat dripping into my eyes and my hair blowing in my face…

New design!

Why, yes, I did take the picture at the top of the page! You are looking at one side of Enders Island, CT, which is a teensy, tiny island south of Mystic. The whole island is owned by a retreat center and I was blessed to go on a women in ministry retreat there last May. Gorgeous!

As you can see, I have changed the design of my blog somewhat. Maybe the soon-to-come changes in my life are inspiring me…

Sunday, I will be installed as vicar of my internship congregation. I am thrilled, excited, a bit scared, a little overwhelmed by details, but mostly looking forward to the work which lies ahead.

Getting ready to go!

Today, motivation struck in a great burst of WA-PA! and I began to sort books, papers, etc. to take with me to Killeen for internship. I’ve been putting this off…not sure why. We can spend time analyzing that a la Freud some other time.

Anyway, back to the motivation…

I launched first into gathering the books I think I will need for my office at the church. I found myself wondering what my collection of books says about me and what others might think based on the titles. If I take my book about infant baptism, am I going to get lots of questions about that? Will my bookcases look like Luther himself threw up all over them? I found myself at first judging books based on not their usefulness but on these impressions.

Somewhere along the way I realized how idiotic I was being. I had limited myself, for instance, to NO books about liturgy - when I have traveled faithfully through the last ten or so years with Frank Senn’s Christian Liturgy by my side. (If you aren’t familiar with it, it’s three inches thick and all about - you guessed it - Christian liturgy.) My rationalization began with, “Why the heck would I need that???” and ended with me taking it off the shelf and packing it, just for the hell of it, because I like the comfort it gives me and the joy I have seeing it on my shelf (and reading in it, every so often). And, just for ha-has, I added three other books about liturgy, too.

So there!

Sometimes, we just need what is comfortable around us. I found an old quilt and I am taking that. I will take the cherub pen holder my mom gave me, plus a couple of needlework pieces which she had in her office. Every so often, I’ll get to take our dog and the apartment will look more like a home with his puppy toys strewn about the floor.

Preparing for this type of home-but-not-home seems less daunting when I know I’ll have a bit of the familiar with me.

Onward!

Christian perspective

Grief can bring copious amounts of anger out of people and I realized long ago that grief and anger are very deeply intertwined. I realized after posting yesterday that some of my posts can get to sounding quite bitter and I think yesterday’s fit very well into that category. Those of you who know me know that I am not a bitter person, but blogging being what it is, and human emotion being what it is…well, you know how things happen.

My Christian perspective is such that I, on one hand, know and trust that God is taking care of me. On the other hand, I ask lots of questions about just how that care is accomplished. I am the petulant child who may ask, “Are we there yet?” or “Why? Why? Why?” over and over. Fortunately, God’s grace is bigger than my questions. I may not know (or get) all the answers, but I guess that’s where faith steps in to take a hand.

However, what I choose to do with my questions is where Christian perspective comes in again.

I am mad about my friend’s diagnosis of cancer. I am still getting over that one, and this morning God and I had an extended discussion about it all. I presented my argument, and there was no flash from the sky as to what course of action will be taken from here on out. So it is left for me to trust that God has this entire situation in His hands, in His heart, even, and will, as a loving Parent, care for all of us so deeply affected by this latest shift in reality. (Faith is being sure of what we hope for, and all that… - Heb 11:1)

The trick is to keep talking, to keep praying, to keep moving, to keep on keeping on. The goal is not 100% understanding, but rather, trust. And faith.

“Keep me safe, O God, for in You I take refuge…” (Ps 16)

Can someone call me after 9pm with GOOD news?

The phone rang tonight at 9:36pm. I was startled by the phone, not because we were even close to bedtime, but because usually when the phone rings after 9pm it is not because the person is calling with good news. I guess I’m cynical - I guess I learned this hardened attitude when Mom was so sick, and when every phone call came with worse news than the one before.

Anyway, I said to Steve, “Who on earth is calling us at this hour?” running to examine the caller ID on the phone and I was relieved to see the name - it was a friend and we had made tentative plans for tomorrow, so surely he was calling to discuss those plans.

He was calling, instead, to let me know of a dear friend’s diagnosis of cancer. A dear friend, who is not much older than I am, who is married to a fantastic man and has two beautiful children. A dear friend, who I’ve never heard say a bad thing about another person, and who has devoted her adult life to serving God and the Church with her music and parenting skills. A dear friend, who cried and laughed (appropriately) on the phone with me and sent me a gift after Mom died. A dear friend.

And - not only does she have cancer, but the same type my mom did (ovarian). And so tonight, with my sadness and anger, I am also sending out a plea to my female friends and the wives of my male friends - please stay vigilant about your health. Please stay current on your exams. Please don’t avoid tests and scans because of what they might reveal. This may seem like an indelicate time to mention all this, but I mention it because I care.

Steve said I shouldn’t get too worked up before I know more - ie, about prognosis, treatment, etc. etc. and, of course, he is right (but don’t tell him I said so!). But I do know that now another family - one who is quite precious to me and to many others - has been touched by this horrible disease. And so tonight, my heart is breaking for my friend and her pain, but also the pain of those around her who love her so much.

If any of you have any good news to share - ever - please call us after 9pm to share. We will gladly receive your news even if you are waking us up. Call us at 2am, if you want, to let us know that you are pregnant, or engaged, or have eloped, or taken a last-minute flight to Tahiti.

And one more piece of advice - from a fortune cookie fortune which hangs above the dresser in our bedroom - “TELL THOSE YOU LOVE THAT YOU DO.”

Changes…

This week, I have spent several days filling in for the receptionist at the seminary. Being at a reception desk is a funny thing - people come in and out, sometimes stopping to chat, sometimes in a hurry.

But I digress…

Next week, this office and those around it will be re-located to another, newer, fresher, building - an old but newly-renovated house, to be exact. These older offices, with their paneled walls, well-labeled cabinets, popcorn ceilings, and worn carpet will be renovated and re-purposed. These offices, which have seen hundreds of students and staff through all kinds of life events will change and evolve to embrace other people and their life stories.

I’ve been thinking about these changes with a mix of emotions this week, especially as I have overheard comments from the staff about what they are finding as they go through years and years of files. One comment in particular: “It’s kind of a shame to let go of this stuff when someone worked so hard on it.”

Another facility change - my alma mater, which, when I started, was Concordia Lutheran College, later became Concordia University at Austin, and is now Concordia Texas - my alma mater has sold its property along I-35 and moved to a location on the west side of Austin. I’ve seen the new property - it is beautiful, and full of trees and potential.

The old campus is developing a new pile of rubble every week. First to go was the building in which I received two diplomas. This week, I drove by, and the beautiful baseball outfield was sporting (sic) two porta-potties for the construction workers. Soon, all the buildings, old and new (some of which have been built within the 10 years since I graduated), will come down. Some of them will be stripped of their historical parts before demolition, and those parts will be relocated and, presumably, reintegrated into the new campus.

Down will come the classrooms where I learned of Lutheranism and music, chemistry and history. Down will come the chapel where I directed a choir for the first time and tried to play the organ. Down will come the performance hall where our choir rehearsed, where I recorded videos for conducting classes, and where I gave my final recital.

The next generations of students at the seminary and at Concordia will know nothing of the old besides what they hear from prior generations of students or see in dusty photos. And, to me, the value of history is that (hopefully) knowledge, collective memory, shared experience contribute to our history, so that future generations know (and maybe appreciate) our experience. And the sharing of history becomes a way for us to connect with the future.

To be continued…

That line is how my Granny Inglis always used to end our phone conversations. She’s not really big on good-byes…

Lately, she hasn’t been clear-headed enough to remember to say this phrase, and I started to miss it, so I’ve been adding it now. It’s been another one of those strange transitions, a handing down of a torch, a passing on of a tradition. It’s another example of me taking on the role of ADULT in my family - let’s face it, I AM 35! - and trying to figure out how to navigate the transition, keep the torch lit, continue the tradition.

This is, I believe, one of the biggest struggles for orphans of any age…how to bridge the gaps…how to keep walking within a family unit without the very important connective tissue that is our parents.

In my case, I am trying to form an identity based on who my parents were, but also (staunchly, stubbornly) to assert my own identity, as well. Not always an easy tightrope from which to fall!

So, back to Granny - she was in the hospital over the weekend, a fact which terrified me to no end. I have two grandmothers still alive - one is in her late 80’s and one is in her early 90’s. Both are incredibly strong women in their own ways. Both have lost a child and a grandchild. Both helped to raise me after Dad died and Mom decided to pursue an MSW, and then an MDiv, anyway. And both of them are starting to age quite a bit these days. Granny’s latest stint in the hospital was a reminder to me of the tenuousness of my own family tree - I have two blood relatives left and she is one of them!

So the question now becomes - what do I do with this?

And one answer I have come up with is to do the thing which maybe is the most difficult emotionally - to spend time with my grandmothers while I still can, even if by phone. I have downloaded “interview” questions about family history which I will ask them each, in order to get to know them, but also to fill in the branches on our tree. And I will appreciate the great love with which God has surrounded me in my family - such a blessing, such a treasure, such a beautiful gift.

I was given life, so that I could live it! To be continued…

More ashes to ashes…

I was just unexpectedly hit with tears as I unpacked Mom’s albs - MY albs now, I guess - to look them over ahead of assisting at our church tomorrow morning.

Makeup - HER makeup  - on the collars. No other trace of her - the scent of her is gone, her name is not in either robe - but her makeup was there.

And so now I am washing her makeup out of them. I applied extra detergent to the collars and it was so hard to imagine washing her makeup off those robes.

But what else do I do? I mean, REALLY - leave the makeup there forever because it was hers? I can’t do that - it seems like too weird of a thing for me…so they are in the washer, spinning away, even as I type this.

More ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

What’s in a Name?

Got this from my brother-in-law-in-law’s blog (that is, my husband’s sister’s husband). Kinda fun!

YOUR ROCK STAR NAME (first pet, current car):
Cat Cabrio (or Kat Kabrio?)

YOUR GANGSTA NAME (fave ice cream flavor, favorite type of shoe):
Cinnamon Bun Bass (CinnaBass for short)

YOUR NATIVE AMERICAN NAME (favorite color, favorite animal):
Green Dog

YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME (middle name, city where you were born):
Elizabeth Little-Rock (hyphen added J)

YOUR STAR WARS NAME (the first three letters of your last name, first two of your first name):
Joh Ka

SUPERHERO NAME (2nd favorite color, favorite drink):
Red DDP (Diet Dr. Pepper)

NASCAR NAME (the first names of your grandfathers):
Harold “Doc” Andrew

STRIPPER NAME ( the name of a perfume/cologne/scent that you wear, favorite candy):
Happy Twix

TV WEATHER ANCHOR NAME (your fifth grade teacher’s last name, a major city that starts with the same letter):
Goolsby Greenboro

CARTOON NAME (favorite fruit, article of clothing you’re wearing right now):
Orange Slippers

HIPPIE NAME (What you ate for breakfast, your favorite tree):
Blueberry Elm

How about you?