Rambling Anna

Sneaky

2011-11-12T14:05:00.002-05:00

RT @amylippoldt: "God is sneaky. God tends to murmur to our hearts." (rather than call in big obvious ways). #explo2011

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1YkjXRMQiw8

This video is titled, "You Sneaky Mom!" When we talked this morning at Exploration about God being sneaky, this is all I can think about.

But in reality, when it comes to our calling, God is sneaky. Sometimes it is by putting us in conversation with someone unexpected. Sometimes it is getting us to an event that we're not sure about but it is life changing.

And sometimes God is most sneaky by leading us gently into what we are called to be and do. I have shared with my small how I was never one to feel scared or try to run away from what God has called for me. God was "sneaky" in the still, small voice that guided me gently but steadily toward vocational ministry.

The paths that we find ourselves on toward ministry are never the same. We have varying reactions to our call to ministry in whatever form that takes. But we are all called.

Dream

2011-11-12T10:08:00.002-05:00

(This is my post from last night... I don't have internet access in my room, so I post when I can.)

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. I think that if you were my husband you would disagree. He called me this afternoon to see how my flight was, and I blew him off to talk to someone who had great questions about GCSRW. Telling him I’d call him *right back,* I bid him a good afternoon. Now, it is 11:09 (in St. Louis). Finally calling him back, he answers in a groggy tone. CRAP. I forgot about the time difference. I’ve just disturbed his slumber. But I have so much I want to tell him about today.

I want to tell him that Mark Miller sang one of our favorite songs. “All Are Welcome” has become an instant favorite not only at the church I serve (North Broadway United Methodist Church, a Reconciling Congregation), but also a favorite in our household. I took a video of Mark and the singers performing the chorus and attempted to send it to Garrett, and the video was too large…

I also wanted to tell him that I ran into Andrew, one of the members of my small group in 2007 (who also bought our washer/dryer before we moved). Garrett got to meet him and his fiancé, hear about their journey of faith, and the four of us shared what it was like to be married and in ministry. I tried to text Garrett, but in the lower level of the hotel, I couldn’t get enough signal to send.

I want to share how a woman in my small group has had deep conversations with her husband about the meaning of baptism, and how a man has shared about how he and his wife have had conversations about baptism, children, and in-laws. Another small group member orders her pizza the same way my husband does. I didn’t want to ruin the sacred moments in our small group to reach for my cell phone to text him. I value the sharing that happened and didn’t want to be the one to take us out of the mindset and soul-state that God had called us into.

So many incredible things are already happening at Exploration. I shared with someone today how this is my third Exploration (Florida as a participant, Texas as a recruiter/small group leader, St. Louis as a recruiter/blogger/tweeter/small group leader/agency representative), and how this event holds deep meaning for me. She then said, “I can see how this event has deep meaning for the Church.”
Rev. Hamilton spoke of his hope that of the 600(ish) gathered in the hall for worship, 300 would be called to ordained ministry. He then went on to share that each United Methodist pastor will serve approximately 8 churches (Does my two-point charge count as two? That means I am at three now… see honey, only 5 more churches… 5 more moves… that doesn’t sound too awfully, right?). If the math is correct, that means the ministry of those gathered will touch around 2,400 churches. Do you feel as though that is enough churches to change the trajectory of the United Methodist Church? Rev. Hamilton thinks so. I do, too.

We have each been called to this place not to discern if we are called to ministry, but to discern what our ministry will look like. Each of us was invited to remember our baptism, a calling in and of itself, and dream God-sized dreams for our ministries. Blessings on your dreaming!

I Am a Woman

2011-11-08T11:47:00.002-05:00

I am a woman

born of God

I am a woman

born of love

I am caring and competent

vulnerable and powerful

seeking wholeness

physically, emotionally, and spiritually

I am a woman

reaching out to others

making a difference in myself

my family

community

church

and the world

I am empowering myself

to empower others

I am struggling to accept my anger

and use it to gain strength, confidence,

courage, and intimacy with others

I am a woman

who sees the interconnectedness of all human beings

who values the unique gifts of all

I am a woman who leads and follows

who accepts responsibility for myself

and the choices I make

Yes, I am a woman

who sees each day as a new beginning

a chance to grow in self, love, and service

I am a woman

born of God

I am a woman

born of love

And I can be

All that I am

- Ms Katherine Tyler Scott

This is one of the first prayers in Women's Uncommon Prayers: Our Lives Revealed, Nurtured, Celebrated. I have found many of the prayers in the book moving already, and I look forward to praying many more of them.

After church on Sunday a gentleman introduced himself to me. He had been a member of North Broadway United Methodist Church when he was younger. In the years between then and now, he had dabbled in many denominations and faiths, finding space for worship in the Baha'i faith at times. He was visiting his sister, a member of NBUMC, and he spoke to me of how exciting it was for him to come back to his home church and see worship being led by two energetic, called, and capable women. He talked about how he used to be frustrated when he came "home" to find the wall of pastors filled with the pictures of staunch looking men. We chatted about the place of women within not only the United Methodist Church, but in the Church as a whole and in other faiths as well.

As I walked home (so yes, the walk is short because I live across the parking lot) and the time after, I found myself thinking about how I count myself blessed to work with a female senior pastor. She has journeyed in many places that I myself hope to someday journey, and she has the experiences to share with me as we journey in ministry.

I have so many women in ministry to look up to, so I don't want to sound brag-y about just one. God has placed so many remarkable women in my life. I am so thankful that the United Methodist Church is a place that values and recognizes the call of women. I know that there is still work to be done (shout out to my GCSRW sisters and brothers), but on this particularly mundane Tuesday, I am taking a moment to be thankful for Rev. Dr. Stevens and all the other women with whom I am in ministry. I am blessed to count you as colleagues and friends.

You may now kiss...

2011-10-19T10:40:00.008-04:00

Oh dear... watch this video:

Apart from being wildly funny (in my opinion), the Improv Everywhere wedding has alerted me to a dilemma for clergy.

Did you see how when they shared their kiss you could see the officiant's head in the background?

You didn't? Watch it again.

I have a picture of myself in the same situation!

Photography by Jennifer Snyder

This beautiful couple had one of the most fun and touching weddings I've officiated! But here, in their stunning first kiss, one can see my crazy mug below their chins and above their shoulders!

And again! When I married my husband's fraternity brother (wait...) When I officiated at the wedding of my husband's fraternity brother and dear friend, it happened again! Two lovely people who now have my right arm forever captured in their photo. UGH!

When the officiant invites the couple to smooch, I don't know many couples who could politely wait to kiss until the officiant steps out of the way of the picture!

Clergy, what do you do? And do you have similar pictures? I'd love to compile them and post another entry of our invasion of first kisses!

top 10 hymns

2011-09-23T20:58:00.003-04:00

My friend, Diane (who I've mentioned in an earlier post), just created another brilliant blog experience. She challenged bloggers and friends to list their favorite hymns. Her challenge comes with a few rules:

1 - Hymns must be included in the 1989 United Methodist Hymnal, so no The Faith We Sing hymns may be included (excluding, to my dismay, We Are Called).

2 - It must make your heart thrill to hear/sing it.

3 - You must be able to sing at least one verse by heart.

So, in no particular order, my top 10 favorite hymns:

159 - Lift High the Cross (Newbolt) - Nothing beats the descant from Ada First UMC on this one, but it holds a place on the list for many reasons.

555 - Forward Through the Ages (Hosmer) - This will be sung at my funeral. Take note.

707 - Hymn of Promise (Sleeth)

302 - Christ the Lord is Risen Today (C. Wesley) - There is just something about the Hallelujah's after you haven't sung them for 40+ days.

203 - Hail to the Lord's Annointed (Montgomery)

400 - Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing (Robinson) - I must say that I hear Sufjan Stevens and/or David Crowder usually when I think of this.

147 - All Things Bright and Beautiful (Alexander)

369 - Blessed Assurance (Crosby) - I don't always love the blood language, but I love Fanny Crosby and I love the tune and I love the song. I stand by my choice.

92 - For the Beauty of the Earth (Pierpoint)

211 - O Come, O Come Emmanuel (15th Century French) - I am an Easter woman, but is it really possible to list ten hymns from the UMH and not include an Advent hymn?

So what are yours? If you are non-United Methodist, your own denominational hymnal will work... even though it won't be nearly as much fun...

-isms

2011-09-19T20:24:00.002-04:00

Recently I watched the movie "The Help" (after reading the book, of course). In a scene the main character, Skeeter, is walking through a newspaper office full of cigarette smoke to the enclosed office of the manager. When she opens the door and walks in she does not shut the door behind her. The manager yells at her (and the quote is not exact here), "Shut the door! Eventually they're going to figure out that those things'll kill ya!"

I have just returned home from Crucible, a leadership development program for ordained and provisional members in the West Ohio Annual Conference. The first retreat was a personal development retreat that focused on wholeness, wellness, prayer, and solitude. Among the many topics we addressed, we talked about workaholism.

Our presenter, Ruth Haley Barton, stated that workaholism is the -ism of our generation. It is important for leaders, both secular and religious, need to understand that workaholism is an addiction. It will not only destroy career, but self, family and many other vital aspects of our lives. I was so surprised to hear how many pastors in the room don't take even one day off per week. Many confessed to feeling a drive within them that would lead them into self-destructive behaviors. Perfectionism, overdrive, and technology mix to form a fatal cocktail that will seem successful until the great crash and burn that will cause many to leave vocations, families, and even life behind.

Why don't we understand that workaholism will kill us?

I tweeted last night about being frustrated that I would likely have to do work on my day off as a result of being at the Crucible retreat. One pastor working in a non-parish setting replied, "Day off?" I know that she was joking, but why do we expect pastors and people in so many other vocations to work 24 hours a day, 7 days a week?

I think the attitudes are beginning to shift, but but how can we honestly examine our own work patterns and realize that when our work cannot be accomplished in 50-60 hours it does *not* mean that we should simply work longer and harder! Our spirits, our minds, and our bodies are not made to function as a workaholic.

I have made a few goals to start examining my workaholic ways. Here is one:

I will buy an alarm clock so that I can turn my cell phone off each night. Not just on silent and ignoring it, but turning it off and not attending to twitter, facebook, and email in the middle of the night.

What will you do so that you do not succumb to the addiction of workaholism?

Passion and Possibility in St. Louis

2011-09-06T09:09:00.007-04:00

A lot of things have changed since November of 2006...

My name is different. Then? Anna Barrett. Now? Anna Guillozet.

My home is different. Then? Ada, Ohio. Now? Columbus, Ohio.

My status within the United Methodist Church is different. Then? Laity. Now? Clergy.

Of all of the things have brought me to the place I find myself now, Exploration was a stand out experience in getting me to where I am now.

A junior at Ohio Northern University, I journeyed to Tampa in 2006 to hang out with my friends and hopefully try to piece together an identity which would carry me after college. What I got was so much more...

There I met a (now dear) friend who shared with me what it was like to enroll in seminary, have a partner who stood by her but understood that her calling was her own, and what calling looked like in her life.

Three years later, I went to Dallas as a second year seminarian, clear of my calling to the order of elder in the United Methodist Church. I served as a small group leader to eight smart, gifted, and called young adults (with whom I still talk today). I kept in my head the experience I had in Tampa, hoping to be the person who shaped the life of a young person in a way that was meaningful. All eight young adults in my small group are living God's call in their lives in ways that a powerful. Few are pursuing ordained ministry in the United Methodist Church.

I know that as I attend Exploration 2011 I will be the one being blessed. There are few things more sacred than to live among the questions. Young adults from across the country will come together to explore, question, form, talk, laugh, sing, worship and pray together. Of all the ways in which God is calling me to ministry, I am blessed to witness Passion and Possibility.

I ask that you pray with me. Pray for the young adults attending. Pray for those who will travel to support them in understanding calling. Pray that God will open their hearts to a great calling, unique to each young person. Pray that the young adults leave the event not with answers, but equipped to ask the challenging questions.

What are the meaningful experiences of call in your life? What questions are you still in the midst of asking?

The "Fat" Stigma

2011-03-15T15:23:00.002-04:00

So, I am not a "small" woman. I never have been. I never remember easily finding jeans in my size. I have generally been happy with the shape my body is.

... but I have recently been made aware that in the culture I am immersed in, my body is often the subject of other conversations. Many others believe that my body is not only mine, but theirs to comment upon. I understand that my body shape is not what society is most comfortable or familiar with, but it is real. I have *shape.* I have *hips.* I am *curvy.* That has, on more than one occasion, opened (against my will) discussion about my body. A few times folks have asked me if I am expecting. Surely you can read into all the reasons this is offensive to me, one who has never been pregnant.

Self-confidence issues that resulted from those comments aside, this question is only one of the few times that my body has been the subject of unwanted and uncomfortable commenting.

I recently experienced another instance. I was in a setting where I was not the only overweight person in the conversation. One person (a man... I feel like this is a relevant fact, despite my effort to remain situationally ambiguous) pointed out the fact that not only he was overweight, but I was, too. I believe that I handled the situation with grace. I dealt with his questioning about my healthcare habits in the best way that I could. I stated that I knew that I could stand to lose a few pounds. It was uncomfortable (and I believe inappropriate).

So after the conversation was concluded, and those involved were loitering in a setting with others who were not involved, I found myself with a grumbling stomach. I had not eaten yet that day. As I stood in front of the food/drink spread, I found myself debating between a cookie and a banana. What I wanted was a cookie. What did I choose? A banana. As I peeled and consumed the banana, I kept my eyes on those around me. I chose the banana over the cookie because I didn't want to see the man who had drawn attention to my "fatness" to see the fat woman eating a cookie. "Hey, LOOK AT ME! I chose a banana!"

And I am not the only person who feels this way. I know of many other situations in which a person does not want to be seen eating a certain item or drinking a certain drink for fear of being stigmatized for being fat.

I am reminded of a recent episode of "What would you do?" on ABC. A larger woman is sitting in a restaurant and orders a large meal (I don't remember exactly what) of fried/fatty food. The server (an actor who is really "in" on the situation with the actor playing the customer) berates the "fat" woman for ordering "fat" food. Very rarely do any of the unsuspecting onlookers stand up on behalf of the customer. If anything, they side with the server.

So here is the question: is this fat stigma in the mind of me, the writer, and other "fat" people, or is this an honest societal issue that needs dealt with?

On the Eve...

2011-03-13T21:40:00.002-04:00

Dear Anna,

Tomorrow is a life changing day.* You're nervous about it, I know. I am telling you the same thing I tell brides and grooms on their wedding day. If you weren't nervous about it, I'd be worried. It is a big day with a lot of meaning.

... that being said, please remember that tomorrow does not define you. A committee can not negate a call. A board can not take away your identity. Sure, they may vote no, but even if they do you will still be a beloved child of God, one who is called and claimed.

You have done the work. You have prepared. You have prayed. You have been prayed for. No matter how tomorrow turns out, you will still be you. The outcome may or may not be what you had desired, but you are a strong woman who will make the best out of whatever may come.

I promise I will always love you for who you are and who God has shaped you to be. No one will change that, no matter what you may be feeling.

Remember the quote you love so much...

"So I walk like I'm on a mission 'cause that's the way I groove. I've got more and more to do. I've get less and less to prove. It took me too long to realize that I don't take good pictures 'cause I have the kind of beauty that moves."

~ Anna ~

* written on the eve of my interview for commissioning as an Elder in the United Methodist Church

Handwriting

2011-03-11T15:51:00.003-05:00

I saw this post on one of my favorite nail polish blogs (yes, I read more than one nail polish blog... don't judge me).

Let's see your handwriting!! Write out all the answers to the questions below, and post it to your blog!!

1. What is you name? And your blog.
2. Blog url
3. Write: the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog.
4. Favorite quote
5. Favorite song
6. Favorite band/singers
7. Say anything you want
8. Pass it along to a few bloggers

Things Vanessa Taught Us

2011-02-23T15:39:00.009-05:00

56 years ago today, the world changed. Vanessa Joan (pronounced Jo-anne... don't get it wrong) Craft (later Barrett) entered this world. But really, doesn't the world change each time one of us is born? Doesn't the world change when each one of us dies? I think that's how Vanessa felt. Each of us has a unique task of leaving this world better than we found it.

On this, what would be her 56th birthday, I think it is important for us to remember that Vanessa left this world better than she found it. Vanessa, my dear mother, was a teacher. Not only in the classroom, this brave woman sought to teach each and every person she met. I believe that she succeeded. Listed below are 56 lessons that Vanessa taught us.

I hope you enjoy the list, laughing at the funny lessons, and humbly remembering the somber ones... but most of all, I hope you share this list, both by sharing the list itself with others, but even more so by living out the lessons.

1. Meals can be one course. This course can be popcorn, Shells-n-Cheese, nachos, or any other number of foods that require little to no effort to prepare.

2. Of all fast-food restaurants, always choose Taco Bell (unless the Taco Bell has been closed by the health department... then choose Arby's).

3. The healthiest competition comes from card games. Also, don't mess with a Craft woman, especially when she is playing Phase 10, Skip-bo, or Wizard.

4. Teachers have first names. They really like to be called by them, too!

5. The only way to be happy is to be yourself.

6. Everyone has a talent. If you think you don't, you haven't tried hard enough.

7. Travelling in large groups is risky, especially when you don't know the language. Always have a meeting spot in case of emergencies.

8. If something seems like a bad idea, DON'T DO IT!

9. No child is a lost cause.

10. Likewise, every child deserves to be loved and to be given a second chance.

11. Again, likewise, children are not their parents.

12. Love transcends divisions. That doesn't make divisions less hard to deal with, but love is worth persevering in.

13. If you have troubles remembering your 9 times tables, hold both hands in the air (working under the assumption that you have all and only 10 fingers). To figure out 9 x 4, (starting at the left) count over four fingers (your left pointer finger). Put it down. To the left of it will be 3 fingers, to the right of it will 6. 9 x 4 = 36. 9 x 6 = ? Count over six, put down your right thumb. 5 to the left, 4 to the right. 9 x 6 = 54.

14. The only ab workout you need is laughter.

15. Don't take yourself so seriously.

16. The best way you can love your children is to love your parenting partner. (She phrased it, "The best way a man can love his children is to love his wife." I have altered the lesson to be inclusive.)

17. When stuck in a conflict, "BUILD A BRIDGE and GET OVER IT!"

18. Things don't always have to be tidy to be organized.

19. If a group of people is getting together and have invited you, you declining the invitation means that you will be the subject of conversation.

20. Life is short. Spend time with friends and family.

21. Friendship is the most precious gift you have. You are not limited to one best friend. The more, the better.

22. You can live on less than 1 kidney. For a long time.

23. If you don't know the answer, admit it. Don't make an answer up. It does no good to anyone.

24. Take the questions of children seriously. You might learn something in the answering.

25. There is truth to the command to "make a joyful noise." Tone-deaf is merely a state of mind.

26. If you're feeling sorry for yourself, others probably are, too. You are worth more than feeling sorry for yourself.

27. Doctors should be nice to you. You are buying their houses, their cars, and (as the case of Vanessa's nephrologist) funding their divorces.

28. Once you get the "teacher look," you'll never forget it. Phrases like "suck a duck" will incite said look.

29. The "mom glare" is strikingly similar to the "teacher look."

30. If you can't play sports (or just aren't any good at 'em), encourage the people who do!

31. Cherish your sorority sisters. They're the only ones who won't think you're crazy when you sing the songs/do the dances you remember from college.

32. Always designate a friend to remove your "bedside/top drawer" contents in the case of your untimely death. Your children won't ever thank you for it, but really they're thankful.

33. Pepsi is addictive. Never trust a Coca-Cola drinker (even if you marry one).

34. Children are never mistakes. They are gifts to be cherished.

35. Do not try to iron your clothes while you're wearing them.

36. Family is family, no matter what.

37. Never underestimate the power of a smile. It lifts your own spirits more than it lifts the spirits of others.

38. Kids grow up, most of the time before you even know it. Savor childhood.

39. Relax. Yes, you. RELAX.

40. When making puppy chow, always double-bag.

41. Relationships (especially with your kids) are more important than keeping a perfect house.

42. The only color of Laffy Taffy worth eating is the yellow. And if you don't think the jokes are funny? Well, see #15!

43. When being intimate under the Christmas tree, watch out for needles. Or buy a fake tree.

44. When sneezing, remember to squeeze. This maneuver is (cleverly) titled the "sneeze-n-squeeze).

45. You are perfect, but your life won't and doesn't have to be. Trying to make it so is a wasted effort.

46. You never know when Kilroy is watching.

47. It is convenient to name your kid the same thing as the next door neighbor's kid. It cuts down on the yelling.

48. Hug people. You probably need it more than they do, but it will brighten their day and lift their spirit.

49. A dog will always love you, no matter how badly you snore.

50. Open your home to those who need it.

51. Your paycheck does not define you.

52. Everyone has a nickname. If they don't, it is your responsibility to make one up!

53. Give until you can't give anymore.

54. Like most music, Barry Manilow is best heard on vinyl.

55. Your legacy will continue to affect people long after you have left this earth. People you've never met... make sure it is one worth leaving.

56. Never forget the 4 L's... Learn, Laugh, Love, Live

So, which is your favorite? Which are you best at? On which do you need to work?

*a special thanks to Diane for inspiring this post

** a VERY special thank you to all who shared lessons and memories on facebook. I couldn't have compiled this list without you!

2010 in Albums (re-post from Facebook)

2011-02-22T22:18:00.000-05:00

My friend, Nick, has posted a list of albums that he connected to in 2010. After a bit of conversation with him during a class break, I decided that I would do the same. Like Nick, most of these albums are not albums released in 2010, but albums that I found myself constantly returning to.

January

"Furnace Room Lullaby" - Neko Case

I was introduced to this artist by my friend, Julia. We used a Neko Case song as a background for a group project, and I was immediately captured by her unique sound. I was taking an intensive class in January in which I was studying the Doctrine of the United Methodist Church. When I felt very boxed in to the "system" to which I was submitting my career, I found freedom through the sound of this album.

February

"Evolve" - Ani DiFranco

I have always considered the title track from this album to be a "mantra" of sorts for my life... "So I walk like I'm on a mission 'cause that's the way I groove. I've got more and more to do. I've got less and less to prove. It took me too long to realize that I don't take good pictures 'cause I have the kind of beauty that moves." What headstrong woman finding her way in the world wouldn't relate to this lyric? (As you will see emerge later in the year) I have a tendency to re-listen to albums both before and after I see an artist in concert. I saw Ani with my friends Julia, Chrissy, and Deana. She put on a spectacular show and put in motion a lot of thoughts about how I can be both a married woman and an activist for women's rights.

March

"New Moon Daughter" - Cassandra Wilson

March contains not only my birthday, but also an opportunity for me to spend time with my sisters and brothers of GCSRW. I always feel quite tapped into the universal feminine when I listen to Cassandra Wilson, and in the celebration of my birthday in Chicago, my GCSRW friends made a monetary gift to the Advocacy for Women Endowment. I felt as though they said to me, "You're womanhood is a legacy."

April

"Kansas" - Jennifer Knapp

As I prepared to attend the West Ohio Annual Conference, I had been in much prayer and conversations with Christians and non-Christians alike about the relationship between hetero-sexism and faith. Around the middle of April, Jennifer Knapp, a successful Christian recording artist, came out of the closet. Hearing not only this album from Jennifer Knapp, but also listening to her interviews alongside my preparations for a heated week at annual conference made me keenly aware of many issues surrounding sexuality that have permeated many conversations, churches, communities, etc.

May

"The Everglow" - Mae

This is just an overall great album that holds a lot of memories and emotions. As I transitioned out of my "second year" at MTSO and into the summer, this album just held me together.

June

self-titled - Corinne Bailey Rae

Annual Conference, mentioned above, occurred in this month. Corinne Bailey Rae served as a calming presence. Her music is light but full of soul.

July

"Call Off the Search" - Katie Melua

July took me on a journey to Germany. My dear friend Vici, her husband, Hauke, and their BEAUTIFUL (no really, she is the most gorgeous child in the world) daughter Mathilda had graciously hosted me for a few days. As we were all enjoying a typical German breakfast, Vici put on this album. I was instantly hooked. I listed to this album not only for the rest of July, but for the rest of the year.

August

"God Willing and the Creek Don't Rise" - Ray LaMontagne

A newly released album that was long awaited from this Ray LaMontagne fan. His album set the tone for the beginning of my last year in graduate school (FINALLY). I have always loved his music, and the collaboration with the Pariah Dogs somehow captured my feelings of stress, worry, sadness, and the beauty that comes from them all and represented them musically.

September

"Wreck Your Wheels" - Kim Richey

Again I found myself with my wonderful GCSRW friends in Nashville. We went to the Bluebird Cafe to listen to songwriter's perform, and we all fell in love with Kim Richey. I had heard a song of hers on Grey's Anatomy, but never followed up. She is another woman who performs with soul.

October

"Simplicity" - Katie Reider

As I arrived at church one Sunday morning, a parishioner asked if she could play a song that she heard at a wedding to celebrate the anniversary of two of our beloved congregants. The song was beautiful, but she didn't know who sang it or where it came from. Quite ironically, the next day my friend and colleague, Don, posted a status on FB about a Katie Reider song. As I read Katie's story and listened to more and more of her music, I discovered that she was the writer/performer of the song in church. Her music captivated me and encapsulated her life of hope and love. Her story is all at the same time heartwarming and heartbreaking.

November

"Lonely Avenue" - Ben Folds & Nick Hornby

This album was released this year, and I haven't stopped listening to it since. I saw Ben Folds in concert with Garrett and my friend, Bethany. It was incredible.

December

"On a Rolling Ball" - Gabe Dixon

December held a lot of stress and distress, and this album on repeat settled my mind as I entered what will no doubt be one of the craziest years of my life.

I would love to hear yours!!

Imagine a Woman

2011-02-22T14:12:00.002-05:00

Patricia Lynn Reilly, M. Div.

Imagine a woman

who believes it is right and good she is woman.

A woman who honors her experience and tells her stories.

Who refuses to carry the sins of others within her body and life.

Imagine a woman

who believes she is good.

A woman who trusts and respects herself.

Who listens to her needs and desires and meets them with tenderness and grace.

Imagine a woman

who has acknowledged the past's influence on the present.

A woman who has walked through her past.

Who has healed into the present.

Imagine a woman

who authors her own life.

A woman who exerts, initiates, and moves on her own behalf.

Who refuses to surrender except to her truest self and to her wisest voice.

Imagine a woman

who names her own gods.

A woman who imagines the divine in her image and likeness.

Who designs her own spirituality and allows it to inform her daily life.

Imagine a woman

in love with her own body.

A woman who believes her body is enough, just as it is.

Who celebrates her body and its rhythms and cycles as an exquisite resource.

Imagine a woman

who honors the face of the Goddess in her changing face.

A woman who celebrates the accumulation of her years and her wisdom.

Who refuses to use her precious life energy disguising the changes in her body and life.

Imagine a woman

who values the women in her life.

A woman who sits in circles of women.

Who is reminded of the truth about herself when she forgets.

Imagine yourself as this woman.

[emphasis mine]

Life is More Than a Box of Chocolates

2011-02-14T16:31:00.005-05:00

So, another Valentine's Day...

I am quite happy to have many people with whom I share the sentiment of the day. And for those who abhor this day? Please don't let a

day make you feel less special than you are.

And now for something totally different.

I'm a pastor. 99.9% of the time I love it. I loved it yesterday. I lead two worship services each Sunday, and after a particularly normal first service, I was feeling a bit down. As I walked into the sanctuary of Church Number 2, I saw a lovely box of chocolates neatly placed in my chair behind the pulpit. I knew immediately who the chocolates were from. Last year I got a dozen roses from this same person.

Here comes the dilemma.

So, I have decided to start (again) taking seriously this business of eating better and making my body fit for life. Seems easy, right? I am a week in, after I had a few successes and many, many failures. But I live one day at a time, choosing water over sugary soda and veggies (which I truly love) over chocolate.

So these chocolates from church posed a problem. I lived through a minor "encounter" during worship, and felt good when I got home. My husband and I swapped some Valentine's Day trinkets, and life was good! So I had one chocolate! Look at my self control! And then Monday came...

I made good choices. I ate one more chocolate. Self control win! I went out to lunch with a few friends, at a Chinese Buffet even, and made good choices! LOOK AT ME! I am being successful! And on the drive home, my phone shouted at me, "IT'S SO FLUFFY I'M GONNA DIE!!" (that's the ringtone I have set for email notifications.) So I get home, open the email, and it is a passive aggressive email from the same instigator of the "encounter" during worship yesterday!

Ugh... I am angry. I am disappointed. I am feeling attacked. I cry. I want chocolate. Perhaps it is because the chocolate is sitting on the coffee table. So I moved the chocolate to the kitchen table. Out of sight, out of mind, right? So I vent to a friend about how angry I am, I do some housework (that in itself should tell you how angry I am), and I try to take my mind off of eating every.single.caramel.in.the.box.

But when I sat down and needed to get work done on the computer, I ate one caramel. I typed. I ate another caramel. I typed. And before I knew it, I had devoured every caramel in the box. And then I picked up a strawberry candy! I DON'T EVEN LIKE THEM. What is it about anger that can make an otherwise strong willed person eat a bunch of chocolates I don't even care for?

So I walked outside, dumped the box of chocolates in the dumpster, and said to myself, "Anna, life is more than a box of chocolates."

The Nose Knows

2011-01-18T14:13:00.008-05:00

So, I have been wrestling with a decision for the past couple of weeks that represents larger issues within my life. Are you ready for the question I have been asking myself?

Should I pierce my nose or not?

Let me begin this argument by stating that I have had my nose pierced before. In fact, shortly after I got it done, I posted a picture of me and a friend that displayed the modest jewel.

When I posted this picture, a former youth pastor (MAM) posted the following comment: "if that's a nose piercing i'll kill you out of sheer jealousy. youth directors ought not cause their youth directors to stumble." By this point in our relation, MAM and I were more friend/colleagues than youth pastor/youth, but I understood her comment.

I had always been a person who valued self expression and felt wonderful about explaining my gauged ears and my tattoos. I welcomed the conversation, even from the people who disagreed with what I did to *my* body. I very vividly remember that there was a woman who attended the church at which I was a youth pastor who approached me to question my facial jewelry. I was ready to do the *smile-and-nod-and-respect-an-elder* defense of my jewelry when she declared, "I just love it! I may have to get one myself!"

It surprised me that someone who was well over the age of 70 valued my own self-expression, too! As I finished college, I was deep in the final stages of planning my wedding. My (then) fiancé had asked that I think about taking out the nose jewelry for our ceremony. I obliged, agreeing that I may not want a little bauble showing in my pictures 30 years from now. As we waited in the airport to depart on our honeymoon, I realized that I had not replaced my nose stud. Stupid me...

but the nose piercing went by the wayside. I have been working in a church since college, so I welcomed the *not having to defend yourself all the time* mindset that the lack of facial piercing afforded. As I wore my hair down most of the time, very few people even noticed my gauged ears. And I continued to "grow up."

As I continued to age, I began to have a desire to wear fun, dangling earrings. I made the decision to take out my size zero gauged ears. (See below picture... the white is solid, forming a large hole in my ear).

With my gauges gone, my nose piercing closed, and only one tattoo made known to people with whom I work and attend school, I started to feel like a large part of my personality had been stifled. I was, after all, the person who rounded up friends on my birthday and drove to the tattoo shop to get inked or pierced.

So here is where I find myself now. I am a young woman in ministry, who is working in a church where I am the youngest by at least 15 years (and even 40 year olds are hard to come by). I feel largely misunderstood by my congregation anyway. I don't explicitly state my personal political views, as I know it would cause more harm than it would good.

Even beyond my immediate context, I am preparing for some major interviews that will influence my appointment and journey toward ordination. My husband has made it clear that he thinks it is a poor decision to pierce my nose again. Though I disagree with him, I value his opinion.

As we were talking about it yesterday, my husband and I reached an impasse. He has made it clear that he believes it to be a poor judgement call on my part, and I made it clear to him that I am not asking for his permission. He gets that. He does. I want to respect his viewpoints without losing myself in this marriage. It is a unity candle thing (which we didn't do...) Do you blow out the two small candles after lighting the large one? I don't think so...

I think what this all stems from is a lack of control. I am feeling very helpless in a process of appointment, graduation, etc. and my husband would admit he feels the same way, too. It may sound a bit silly, but it is one thing that I can control. A nose piercing, although disputed, is not a polarizing topic.

So what say you? To pierce or not to pierce? THAT is the question! What would you think of a pastor with a pierced nose? Would it even make a difference?

I've got friends...

2010-11-17T15:15:00.003-05:00

One of my favorite features of using Google Chrome as a web browser is the fact that it remembers websites. When I want to get to facebook all I need to do is type in "faceb" and hit enter and I'm there! Want to get to my google reader? "reader" (Did you notice that I type until I have to switch typing hands? Ms. Kilbride, my HS keyboarding teacher, would be proud that I still type correctly.)

When I though about writing this entry, I typed in "ra" and got nothing. I kept typing... "rambling" still nothing... had I not visited the blog in so long that Google Chrome did not recognize it? Wow...

One of my favorite tweeters (what exactly is the word for a person who uses twitter?) is UnvirtuousAbbey. One tweet a few days ago read, "For bloggers who only blog about their writer's block, we pray to the Lord." Oh Jesus! I promise not to write about my writers block. Trust me, I have plenty to write about... just not enough time to write it.

But I find myself in the past few days pondering the nature of the United Methodist Church's connectional (is that not a real word? I am getting the red-squiggly-line-of-death) nature. These thoughts began when my husband declared to me that being friends with me on facebook has clogged up his "People You Should Know" list with a bunch of United Methodists who he has knowledge of. I laughed. But when he mentioned the people that facebook suggested, one of the people was my friend, Diane.

My thinking of Diane continued through the week when we exchanged a few text messages. My phone threads texts to look like conversations, and in talking with Diane, I accidentally sent Diane a message meant for Garrett, the man gracious enough to stay married to me. Thank GOD the text only read, "Thanks, Babe!" and not something more embarrassing.

I began to really think about how much I miss the friends I have made through various venues within and related to the United Methodist Church. While I am really glad for the connectional system which brought me together with these folks, it SUCKS ROYALLY that because of the connectional system I rarely get to see them.

I miss:

Diane - who has dubbed herself the "woman I sleep with when I'm away from Garrett." Laugh all you want, but it is true. When I go to commission meetings for The General Commission on the Status and Role of Women, I choose to room with Diane. Diane and I both nerdily (again, red-squiggly-line-of-death) look forward to our first night together at meetings where we will each recline on our hotel room beds and trade syllabi (AGAIN with the red-squiggly-line-of-death... I could have SWORN that was a real word). What will Diane and I do when we meet next August and we're not in seminary anymore?! Oh goodness... Diane also taught be of the joy of sulfate-free haircare. Us curly-girls have GOT to stick together! Mainly, I miss laughing with Diane... our funny sleeping stories... the fact that she doesn't blink when I brush my teeth in my underwear... I miss Diane.

I also miss:

Rachel BR - She and I share a special bond... the bond of "People whose last names give other people problems." She has lived with her last name her whole life, but I have only had mine for 872 days. She assures me that it never gets any easier, but that it does get funnier. I met Rachel through her service with Reconciling Ministries Network and The General Commission on Religion and Race. What I love about Rachel (well, one of the many things) is her no-nonsense way of framing issues around inclusivity. I have never had to question where Rachel stands on any issue, and on the (rare) occasion in which we disagree, I must say that Rachel is the most wonderful person to disagree with. She has a way of not putting you down in telling you how she feels and why she feels that way. My working relationship with Rachel turned into a friendship relationship as we toured Berlin. We formed inside jokes, took pictures, and laughed through much of our journey. We shared a lot of room temperature Coca-Cola (which spurred much discussion about the ethics of the Coca-Cola corporation), internet time and usage, and passion for similar causes. I miss Rachel.

I also miss:

DJ - one of the brave men to serve on GCSRW (see Diane's paragraph for an explanation of the letters)! I appreciate and miss DJ for many reasons, but the first thing that comes to mind is that DJ is one of the rare males that understands that feminism did not completely kill chivalry. For example: I have never opened a door for myself around DJ, but have never felt like he is opening a door because the feeble woman in his presence. I have noticed that DJ always opens the door for all people, not just women. I also respect DJ so much for his commitment to be a loving husband and father in any and all ways possible. I have never met his wife, but from the way he speaks of her and their wonderful girls, their family is one that any person could respect. Like both Diane and Rachel, DJ and I laugh together. I think I have realized that laughter and trust must be central in my friendships.

Enough of my gushing about specific friends. Of all the things that the United Methodist Church has blessed me with, I value my friendships the most, and it is those friendships that I cling to when I am beginning to lose hope for the denomination.

Dear Friends, (whether you are Diane, Rachel, DJ, or someone else) have you considered a visit to central Ohio? Please?

Dear Faithful Followers

2010-11-11T11:58:00.002-05:00

To the folks that follow this blog...

I know I haven't posted on here in a while (as pointed out by my dad), but I don't think an apology is quite necessary. I finishing up my second-to-last semester in seminary, working on the insane amounts of required paperwork in the next step toward ordination in the United Methodist Church, pastoring my two lovely churches and trying to keep myself sane...

In case that all wasn't enough, I am preparing for a trip to Cambodia next summer. I have started a blog specifically for documenting that journey, and you can find it at

www.prayersforcambodia.blogspot.com

Check it out and add it to your feed readers. I hope to update both blogs more often!!

My bags are packed. I'm ready to go.

2010-07-18T14:44:00.003-04:00

... I'm leaving on a jet plane.

I am taking a minute before Garrett drives me to the airport to explain what I'm doing.

First and foremost, I am visiting friends. My dear friend, Vici, and her (then) fiancé, Hauke, came to the U.S. for our wedding. It was great to see them and catch up, but I could not go to their wedding because I was on my cross-cultural trip for MTSO. Well, since they came two years ago, they have gotten married and had a baby! I am so excited to see Vici and Hauke again and to meet Mathilda! I am taking her some great books. I hope that Vici and Hauke read to her all throughout her childhood.

I will then be headed to Berlin for the Global Youth and Young Adults Convocation and Legislative Assembly. I am excited for this second gathering to see the people I met in Jo-burg and to meet even more wonderful and committed United Methodists.

After convo, the Division on Ministries with Young People will hold their yearly division meeting in Woltersdorf. That will close out my trip before I return to the U.S. on July 30.

I will (hopefully... barring any unforeseen circumstances) be blogging throughout my trip. I will be doing this not only to chronicle my travels, but also to keep folks in the U.S. posted, as stipulated in my Student Enrichment Grant from MTSO. I would also like to thank that Capitol Area North District and The Revs. Phillip and Gloria Brooks for the funding for this wonderful opportunity. I am still not 100% funded for the trip, but I am praying that it all works out.

I should also thank my husband, who stays behind to work, tend the house, and care for the Lola-dog while I'm away. I am so blessed to have a husband who supports me this and all of my other journeys. I can't wait for the day when he and I actually get to board a plane together, as that has not happened since our honeymoon.

So, it is off to Hamburg I go (by way of Philadelphia and Dublin). I should arrive around 9am Monday, Ohio time.

100 Words or Less

2010-07-09T10:44:00.001-04:00

I have really enjoyed the class I am currently taking on Narrative Preaching. My professor is Sondra Willobee, and she has thoughtfully and prayerfully led me and my classmates through the first two weeks of class. Our assignment last night was to write our "testimonies" (that word makes me shudder) in 100 words or less.

Here is mine...

At all times in my life I felt completely surrounded by love and upheld by faith in Jesus Christ… all but one. My faith had never been tested more than the typical tough question, until the day when I felt that capability to love taken from me. I never denied God’s presence, but certainly did not trust in the promises which, until then, I had staked my life upon. Steadily lead by a human who taught me how to trust again, I heard the voice of God say, “Regardless of the circumstance, always do the loving thing.”

A Childhood Story

2010-07-08T10:49:00.000-04:00

I have gotten some good feedback from my last story... here is a lighter one. It was written for the same class, but this story prompt was simply, "Share a 1-2 minute story from your childhood."

It was an afternoon like many before it. I ran around the back yard, chasing my older brother. I was determined to keep up with him and his friends, 3 years my senior. As the grass stuck to my bare feet, I ran laps around the house, turning corners quickly, only narrowly avoiding the peonies. Like many times before, I found myself drenched by the iron saturated water of the family garden hose as my brother or one of his friends tried to deter my need for attention. Giggling like the schoolgirl I was, I took my brother’s torture in stride. As I continued to gasp for breath and run, I turned the same corner I had turned time and time again. As my feet crossed the narrow sidewalk, I heard my brother calling out to me.

I skidded to a halt.

My brother was calling out to me? His little, gap toothed, four eyed sister? I felt myself swell with importance. He said to me, “Anna, something is wrong with the hose. I can’t get it to work!” Oh how the tides had turned! My brother needed me to help him with the hose! Feeling like the queen of South Sandusky, I took the cool end of the hose in my hand. As my brother ran for the spigot, I hollered at him, “Turn it off and then turn it on again! I’ll look to see what’s wrong.” As the sun beat down on my already sunburned shoulders, I heard my brother yell back, “Ok! It’s off! I’m gonna turn it back on.”

As I stood there in the backyard, the cold end of the hose pressed against my right eye, I peered down the dark tunnel of the hose and drew in a breath.

Nothing.

Suddenly, I felt a stinging in my right eye, and as I crumbed down into the grass, I heard the laughter of three young boys that stung me more than the water in my eye. My brother had kinked the hose, but he never expected his gullible little sister to press the hose directly to her eye.

Oh Dear Blog

2010-07-06T11:48:00.001-04:00

Oh my dear blog... I have fallen into the life of "people who are too busy to post." I hope to break that mold through the rest of the summer.

For now, please enjoy a post that comes from the class I am currently taking... the assignment was "Write a 2-3 minute true story about something that happened to someone else. Be sure to include people, place, objects, and actions."

Our professor has taught us that if we are going to preach from personal experience, we need to be detached enough from our own life experiences that we can tell the story without fear that the congregation will want care for you. That disturbed me a little bit, but this is my attempt at a personal story with a bit of detachment.

Enjoy.

She never thought a love like this would find her. She didn’t even want a dog, but after her unexpected hospitalization caused her to miss chaperoning her son’s much anticipated first grade trip to the zoo, the guilt that tow-headed child inadvertently made her feel caused her to utter the infamous words, “I guess we can go to the humane society and look around.”

They both fell in love that day; he with the white tip of Lee’s black tail, and she with the look on his face. In the beginning, he and Lee were inseparable. Lee followed him around the backyard and cuddled with him in his bed. As time went on, his legs grew longer, carrying him away and Lee’s grew more gray. She found herself caring for Lee. It was she who stood on the blustery back porch waiting for Lee to do her business. It was she who filled the stainless steel water dish.

The caring was not one sided, however. Lee listened for her car to roll up the driveway. It was only when she walked through the door that Lee’s tail beat against the bars of the cage. It was her bed which was covered in short black and gray hair. Lee grew older with her. As her disease began to slow her down, it was Lee who would lay next to her for hours, finding a way to keep the cold, wet, dog nose behind her knees or under her hand… anything to let her know that she was not alone.

Though she had many friends, Lee was the best. It was Lee who spent the long and tired nights with her when her husband was gone increasingly more for work. It was Lee who patrolled the empty rooms of her children who had grown and left the house. And it was Lee who was left alone in the house as her disease sent her to the hospital one final time.

As her family returned to the house, it was as though Lee needed no explanation. Lee guarded her spot on the tattered brown couch, wimpering as if to say, “I know she’s not coming back.” As he pet the head of the dog he knew had not been his, he felt as though Lee’s heart was breaking as much as his. The woman he had truly loved, his mother, was gone.

As he moved his hand off of Lee's head, Lee nudged the cold, wet, dog nose under his hand, and he no longer felt alone. He felt the love of his mother through the warmth of the dog that was now his once again.

"A Prayer for the Dazed"

2010-03-13T12:09:00.000-05:00

Posted on facebook by PeaceBang

by Sharon McDonald

For those whose "check engine" light just flashed;
For those recently deposited, trembly-legged, from a roller-coaster;
For those who forgot their lines as they entered, stage right;
For those poised tensely like a deer in the headlights;
For those badly jet-lagged who fumble for their passport;
For those just awakening not sure of their name;
For those who sat near as a loved one died a "good" death;
Oh God, we pray, repeat yourself:
Vouchsafe again and again the law of gravity;
Reiterate that day follows night and crocuses follow icicles;
Push the tides endlessly like a rocking cradle
Until we can recognize the rhythm of our own breath;
Until we can blink and regain our balance;
Until our hearts beat steadily again.

Happy Birthday To Me!

2010-03-13T09:55:00.000-05:00

Well, yesterday was my birthday. I turned 24, and I am quite thankful to have been blessed with another year of life. I told a few people that I wanted it to be my last birthday, because I never want to turn 25... there is just something about being a quarter of a century old that bugs me. When I told my brother that, however, he pointed out to me that the only way to truly never turn 25 was to off myself, so I guess I will just have to live with it if I make it to March 12, 2012.

I felt so very honored yesterday by many people, so I am going to turn the tables on them and share some of the things that moved me deeply. Here are some of the gifts I received yesterday.

- Chocolate Covered Oreos - I was blessed to be able to enjoy dinner at Benihana on Thursday night with the love of my life, my best friend, and the love of her life. The four of us gathered around the hibachi grill and shared stories and laughter. Just when I thought that my dinner was perfect, exchanging loving glances with my handsome husband, I caught a glimpse of those same glances being shared between my best friend and the man that has made her truly glow. Despite how much I love the Oreos smothered in chocolate that she gave me, to see my best friend so incredibly happy was the best birthday gift that she could have given me.

- An herb chopper - Now I know what you're thinking... "Really, Anna, an herb chopper? What is so exciting and invigorating about that?" One of my favorite food items to prepare is guacamole. I don't really care to sound proud, but I have been told that my guacamole is quite exceptional. One ingredient I use is fresh cilantro, and as much as I love it, I don't care to have my hands smell like fresh cilantro for two days after I make a huge batch of guacamole. A chopper similar to this has been on my "personal indulgence" wishlist for quite some time. I was even at a Pampered Chef party and saw it in the catalog and did not purchase it because I did not really have that much money to blow. So when my husband handed me the bag containing my birthday gift with the disclaimer, "It is not very much..." imagine my surprise when I pulled out a chopper!! It was an amazing gift, but better than the gift was knowing that I have chosen to spend my life with a person who listens and processes the things that make me happy. Herb chopper or not, his character is always a gift to me.

- A bottle of home crafted wine - A good friend of mine from Ohio Northern University has chosen to attend seminary in Atlanta. He has taken to home brewing and crafting wine. In the past two years I have been blessed to serve on the General Commission on the Status and Role of Women of the United Methodist Church (we'll talk more about this later), and I met a wonderful woman, Diane, who has met my ONU friend at their seminary. She was gracious enough to haul a bottle of strawberry wine (complete with triquetra wax seal) from Atlanta to Chicago, where she kept it safe and unbroken through her journeys around the windy city. This bottle of wine has shown me the incredible network friends and colleagues I have not only in seminary, but also in the United Methodist Church.

- A generous donation in my honor - D (my friend mentioned earlier) serves on the Advocacy for Women Endowment Fund sub-committee, and she rounded up the executive committee of GCSRW to make a $150 to the endowment in my honor! How exciting! I so wish that I had enough money to match their gifts. I am so thankful that the wonderful people with whom I serve on GCSRW can honor one another in ways that can further the mission of not only our commission and the United Methodist Church, but also the mission that our God has called each and every one of us to. How blessed I am not only for this gift in my honor, but also for the blessing to spend my second birthday in a row with these wonderful folks.

** Shameless plug alert ** you should consider a donation to the endowment!

- A purse - One of my GCSRW friends in a deaconess from the Philippines, and each time she comes to the US for a meeting, she brings goodies!! This time she brought me a wonderful purse. Not only do I love purses, but I love the fact that each time I see/use it, I will think of her and her ministry in the Philippines. I have been involved in a lot of conversation about the global nature of the church in the past few weeks/months, and this gift is something that wil keep that in my mind for quite some time to come. D mentioned in her blog post about my birthday that I have a passion for the small church with a vision of the global church. I have never been more flattered in my life. In the course of the meeting I have participated in during the last 24 hours, it has (again) been made apparent to me that the United Methodist Church needs to truly live into the full connectional (my spell check on here hates that word... we're going to have to do something about that) nature or face some grave consequences.

All these things and my birthday festivities are not completed. My best friend is driving out to Chicago to spend the weekend with me. I hope that the weekend is truly restful for both of us!

Stuff I do not put up with anymore

2010-03-12T16:03:00.000-05:00

A blog I follow posted an entry about things that "I" don't put up with anymore. I felt inspired to jot down a few of my own...

- People telling me that I should have lasik eye surgery

I love my glasses. I have quite a few pairs of them. Do I wear contacts? Not very often, but sometimes when I'm going to be riding rollercoasters or when I'm at the gym. I understand that we have the medical technology to fix vision to an extent, but the reality is that most people who have lasik end up wearing glasses again at some point in their lives. I consider my glasses as one of the most expressive parts of my wardrobe/accessories. Along the same lines, if I am wearing my glasses, please don't ask me to remove them for pictures. I understand that sometimes they glare, but you can fix that. I will not alter my appearance for your sake.

- People expecting me to deal with their interpersonal issues

I understand that you, Sally, may not care for Jane, but when I am hosting a party or event, I will not omit Jane from the guest list because you, Sally, are going to be there. I must admit that I have lived my life the past year or so attempting to deal with your issues, but it does. not. work. period. Put on your big girl (or boy) panties and act like the adult that you are. The problem that I am having with living into this theory on life is that often when I invite both Sally and Jane, neither of them choose to attend the function. This theological world 2 woman takes issue with this because I secretly feel that they are not attending because they don't like me. I need to get over that. If you two choose not to attend, it is you who will be missing out.

- Poor grammar

Let me preface this by saying that I think that poor grammar is a relative concept. Poor grammar to me is defined as not using the grammar that you have been taught at whatever level of education you have completed. Mainly, this point is made to my seminary colleagues who continue to not use correct grammar, such as your vs. you're and other similar examples. Please note that I did not say that I don't put up with not understanding the differences, because my personal downfall is the difference between its and it's (please don't try to teach me... I have heard it a million times... it just doesn't stick). How I handle this situation is that I do not use those words. I will choose to write "it is" or some alternative verbiage. Is this the smartest option? Absolutely not. What I have realized, however, is that a person's intelligence is not showcased when the grammar is all wrong! I must also add that I do not consider web lingo (like on twitter or facebook) to be exempt from this.

- My own self-loathing

If I don't like it, I need to work to change it. Really pretty simple.

What do you do?

2010-03-09T10:28:00.001-05:00

My friend has blogged about the social stigma that come from the phrase, "I am a seminary student." This friend, however, is male, and I believe that I have a whole different perspective of the discomfort that the revelation of my status as a seminarian can bring.

Women get to experience a range of uncomfortable encounters in the medical/personal world that (most) men don't get to experience until much later in their lives. Women get the joy of having an annual gynecological exam (and if you are a female and don't, you should). Along with that (and sometimes other) doctor's appointment come the joy of the breast exam. Or what about the Brazilian wax? Let's face it ladies, there are a lot of times that someone else's face is in our "business."

Well as a seminary student, I dread the inevitable question of "what do you do?" I try to dodge the question telling the asker that I am a full time student. More often than not, that person asks me what I study. I tell them theology. Now, my favorite types of doctors/nurses/whoevers stop at that. That answer suffices. Most people, however, need more details. They want to know what I want to do with my degree. This is where I start to get nervous. Not only is someone's face in my "business" but now I must tell that I will be (and already am) serving a church as a pastor. The conversation then halts...

Even the most uncomfortable situation can be made a bit more enjoyable with pleasantries, but once I have revealed that I am a pastor, one of two thing happen. Either the person stops talking altogether. Now I am faced with the reality that this person is either looking at me or touching me in places that I don't even like to acknowledge exist, and they are silent. Great... awkwardness ensures... OR that person decides to spill their entire personal, religious/spiritual history in depth, presenting me with issues to solve in the few moments that we will spend together. Now this is not like the dentist asking you a question while her/his hands in your mouth... at least then you have an excuse to just shake your head and make polite eyes. You try to keep silent while your gynecologist asks if you recommend any churches in the area.

And the reality of it is that this is something I am going to deal with for the entirety of my life. Not only in the superawkward conversations like at the gynecologist or while getting a mammogram (oh do I dread the day that I have to have one of those...) but they will also happen while I am getting my hair cut or while I am getting a manicure. It has happened! It sucks!

But that is the truth of this calling and all others. If you tell someone you are a lawyer, they ask for legal advice. If you are a nurse, they ask you for medical advice. If you are a stay at home parent, they ask you for parenting tips. And if you are a pastor, they ask you to see a part of the deepest parts of them, the parts that often no one else has ever seen. They trust you with the things that no one else can be trusted with...

...and no matter how uncomfortable, I try to radiate the love of God that fills me with life and light.

The Lark Ascending...

2010-03-03T08:27:00.000-05:00

He rises and begins to round,
He drops the silver chain of sound
Of many links without a break,
In chirrup, whistle, slur and shake.

- George Meredith

I had never heard this poem before it was briefly quoted on the David Crowder Band's album "A Collision (3+4=7)" in the final song "The Lark Ascending or (Perhaps More Accurately, I'm Trying to Make You Sing). I listened to this song this morning, as I was feeling a bit funky. This funk was not the self-actualized, "I am a strikingly individual person," but more the, "I feel like there is a tiny black cloud hovering over my head, not quite raining, but just misting enough to make my hair frizz."

As I prepared for the morning shower, I pondered my morning music choice. Music choice for me is absolutely critical... whatever music my Bose sings to me sets the tone for the rest of my day. I was faced with choices.

"Should I listen to Fiona Apple and own my funk?"

"Should I sing along to Ray LaMontagne and mellow out?"

"Should I put on Timbaland and just dance through the funk?"

And then I decided... I will put on "A Collision" and see where it takes me. My usual morning routine is that I shower and dry my hair, and then do the rest of my morning tasks while the Today Show blares on the TV. Today I chose to leave the TV off... I let the music continue until I walked out the door... I even took my ipod in the car with me, hooking it up to the radio adapter and letting the album play where it left off.

I needed to stop at the store on the way to school to get some Tylenol (why is it that I am always out when a funk hits me?) so I pulled into the parking lot, popped on my headphones and walked into the store. As I walked toward the pharmacy section of the store, the last song on the album came on. If you have never heard the album, the last song begins with an interview that David Crowder had with a gentleman who didn't quite "get it." It is obvious that Crowder becomes a bit frustrated by the gentleman who takes everything a bit too literally...

And as this is all occurring on my headphones, I am scanning my Tylenol on the self checkout. The screen tells me that I should see the attendant so that the attendant may deactivate the security tag so that I don't beeped at on the way out the door. As I approach her, I ask her to deactivate the tag. She replies...

"There is nothing I can do about it. I saw you buy it, so it is ok if the alarm goes off."

UGH!! Funk reappeared. As I was walking out the door, the alarm goes off. It is 7:45 a.m. and there are not very many people in the store. I am asked by who I would presume to be the loss prevention person to present my receipt, and I begin to get frustrated... That whole attitude that I have worked so hard to create for myself goes out the window...

And as I sink down into my funk and my Mercury Sable, I listen to David Crowder explain to this interviewer how we shouldn't take anything too seriously. He talks about the atom that is on the front of the album, and how the representation that humans have made for the atom is just that: a representation. The same goes for our worship and ideas about God. It is a representation of a divine/human interaction... an interaction that despite all of our best efforts will not be fully understood. And the beauty of this interaction is that it happens in all people, whether they recognize it or not. And just as Crowder had to try to articulate this to his interviewer, I need to recognize that in all the people around me.

And on the mile stretch between the store and my school, I sang...

And I'm trying to make you sing
From inside where you believe
Like it's something that you need
Like it means everything

And I'm trying to make you feel that
This is for real, that life is happening
That it means everything
I'm just trying to make you sing

My womanhood...

2010-01-12T14:34:00.000-05:00

So, I have witnessed the resurgence of an interesting phenomenon this past week. Now, I have experienced it before, but this week it has pissed me off in a way that I am trying to articulate.

"So, Anna, now you're married. When are you going to have a baby?"

This has come from various places... from my dad's wife joking that she wants a redhead to the older ladies from my home church wondering when I am going to "start my family." It has even come in the form of a question from an aunt that I haven't talked to in a year... the first thing she asks me is if I'm pregnant yet...

This week, however, the baby nagging has come from facebook...

I sneeze. A lot. I always have. This week I sneezed 21 times and posted something on facebook about it. A friend of mine replied jokingly that an old wive's tale says that for every three times you sneeze, you'll have a baby. Someone else replied, "7 Babies?!?!?" Now, I understand that was all in fun, but then the baby-craziness continued.

As I was perusing my school's website, I saw that the academic calendar for 2010-2011 has been finalized. That means that my graduation date from seminary has been set. I saw this and became really excited (rightly so, I think!) so I posted the date on my facebook in the status update that read...

"May 21, 2011 has a nice ring to it!"

One of the first comments that was made was, "Is that your goal due date?" HELL NO! Why does any important thing that I leave ambiguous in public immediately become related to babies? And then someone else commented that graduating from a master's program (seminary, M.Div.) is nice, but a baby sounds good, too... UGH!

"So when are you going to start your family?" I resent this. My family has been started. When I left the home of my parents, I started my own family. I branched out from the family of my parents and became my own. And I added to it when I decided to get married. I firmly believe that neither marriage nor a baby starts a family. A family is started long before then!!

Also, I am 23 years old (for a little while longer at least...), and I have a lot of living left to do before I even begin to seriously entertain the thought of having a child. Does this mean that I think that all 23 year olds need to wait? No! I think there are some wonderful parents who are my age and younger. But as for me, Anna, I need to finish school at least before I can even think of being a parent to a human being. I even shy away from the notion that I am my dog's "mom" (I like to steal the language of my friend, KLM, who says that she is her pets' roommate).

I once heard a great (and heartbreaking) response from a woman when someone asked her when she was going to have a baby. She simply replied,

"What if I can't?"

I don't like to be one of those women who gripes about the double standards between men and women (ok... that may be a slight fib) but why is a woman assumed to be able to bear a child. I have never heard someone ask my husband, "So, when are you going to impregnate your wife?" Don't get me wrong, I don't want someone to ask him that, but why do I receive all the questions about reproduction?

I am not sure that anyone would claim that they would think me less of a person if I am not physically able to have a child, but I have certainly been made to feel that because my choice at this point in my life to not have a child has somehow made me less of a woman. And quite frankly it ticks me off.

I want to have a child some day. I really do. And even as I fight of the natural maternal instincts in myself right now, each person that asks me, "When are you going to have a baby?" incites this tiny part of me that never wants one at all. And what if I reach that conclusion someday? Will that make me less woman or wife because I have made that choice for myself?

So friends, think twice before you ask a woman when she is going to have a baby...

Love is all you need

2010-01-09T10:43:00.000-05:00

"Anna... I have a granddaughter named Anna..." I can still hear the voice of Vern LaSala, the chaplain at Ohio Northern University, uttering this phrase time and time again is his deep and calming voice. There are many things I remember about my time at ONU shared with Vern... the way he could never admit to forgetting a name, how deeply he breathed when waiting for a staffer to respond during spiritual growth, belting Neal Diamond in the university van on the way to the nature center, his nerdy but oh so well loved books of the Bible tie, and many others.

The most lasting thing I remember though is Vern's email signature. It has been the same since I started in college in August of 2004. It simply reads

"Regardless of the Circumstance, Always Do the Loving Thing."

I have mindlessly read that phrase more in my life than I care to count, but this last year has been a year of me putting that into action. I returned to ONU for lunch with some friends, and I stopped in to visit Vern. The first thing he did was proudly present me with a rubber bracelet, orange and white marbled, that reads "Always Do the Loving Thing" followed by a heart. He told me that the heart put the phrase over the character limit for the bracelet company, but he pleaded until they let him include it (actually, I believe his wonderful secretary, Jody King, did the pleading...). This bracelet, but more importantly this phrase, has been the tag-line for Vern's ministry, and now I find it seeping into my ministry.

This phrase was brought to my mind this week as I read through the status updates of my friends... My friend Karen had posted a quote from Leo Tolstoy... now, I had never cared much for Tolstoy, so I am surprised that I actually read the quote. It read

"The kinder and more thoughtful a person is, the more kindness they can find in other people."

I have experienced in the past few weeks a lot of people who think that if someone is inconsiderate to you, you should respond in an inconsiderate manner. I have also experienced people who are just downright angry by nature. I have always known that I am not one of those people. I believe that kindness is key, and despite how someone is treating you, you should respond in the most considerate way possible. I give the credit to my mother for raising me in this manner.

But what I have come to realize is that current American attitude, by and large, will walk all over people who keep this kindness and love mentality. I know this because I have often found myself literally crying after some person has treated me poorly after I have responded out of love.

... But there are a few instances where someone has been downright sour to me, and I have tried with everything in me to respond in kindness and love. A rare time or two, the person with whom I am dealing ends up melting right in front of me, breaking down to show me some deeper issues that they are working through. It has become quite the interesting phenomenon to see!! I have seen how my friend and mentor, Vern, can place that one sentence about love at the heart of his ministry.

Love and Kindness get you places that Irritation and Frustration cannot. So if you see me in a sticky situation and have to bet on how I will react, you should place your money on me doing the loving thing, regardless of the circumstance.

Motormouth

2010-01-02T20:33:00.000-05:00

So, there was (is still?) a show on VH1 called Motormouth. I always loved watching this show, but dreaded what I would look like if I had been on it. On this show, a secret camera is placed inside the car of an unsuspecting driver to capture their in-car singing habits. Now, other than wondering which of my friends would turn me in, I often find myself wondering which song I would be caught singing.

Here are the 10 songs that I would most likely be caught singing.

1. "Taking Chances" - Celine Dion

2. "Take Me or Leave Me" - Rent

3. "Keep Holding On" - Avril Lavigne

4. "I Turn to You" - Christina Aguilera

5. "Bohemian Rhapsody" - Queen

6. "My Immortal" - Evanescence

7. "Brother Love's Traveling Salvation Show" - Neil Diamond

8. "You Oughta Know" - Alanis Morissette

9. "Apres Moi" - Regina Spektor

10. "Bad Romance" - Lady Gaga

What about you?

Goodbye, 2009

2009-12-31T10:03:00.001-05:00

I, like most bloggers out there, am trying to reflect upon the year 2009. My year has passed by so quickly that as I sit here to make a bulleted list of things I have done in 2009, I have to have my calendar. So here goes...

- Worked at Kohl's and chose to give it up.

- Worked as a youth pastor at Church of the Good Shepherd United Methodist and chose to leave.

- Took classes at the nearby Catholic seminary. Now that is a post all in itself.

- Spent my birthday with my fabulous friends from GCSRW. I learned how to celebrate important things away from my husband.

- Learned the difficulty of doing my own taxes. Thank God for Michael Hurd.

- Celebrated the 80th birthday of my grandmother. I am so thankful for my huge family.

- Completed my first year of seminary.

- Took a trip to Canada with Garrett and his family just because I could.

- Spent 2 weeks + in Korea and Japan. I learned more on this trip than I ever could have in a classroom. While on the trip, Garrett learned that he passed an important test. Again, I celebrated something big away from my husband.

- Celebrated my 1st anniversary with Garrett. A great night with great food, wine, and accommodations. We topped it off by seeing Transformers. Too fun.

- Endured a week of Local Pastor's Licensing School. Though the content was deplorable, I did meet some good friends and colleagues.

- Became a certified candidate for ministry and a licensed local pastor in the United Methodist Church. Still trying to adjust to getting mail for "Rev. Anna Guillozet"

- Officiated my first funeral. Humbling.

and here are a few things that I have learned...

- friendship takes work. The good ones are worth the work, and the bad ones aren't worth the tears that I cried over them.

- Other people have feelings. Though this may seem obvious, it is something I have to remind myself of quite frequently. I tend to think my feelings trump those of others, and that is simply not true.

- Age is just a number. Now, most people that claim they have learned this are older... I, however, have done many things this year that few 22/23 year olds see as normal.

- I still don't like seafood.

- Sometimes it is ok to be doing nothing.

- Life is fragile. I thank my Aunt Laurel for this mostly. Though her life is waning in front of her own eyes, she keeps such a Godly attitude and genuinely joyful spirit that I can't help but keep her as a role model for my life.

And as I sit to publish this blog, I am watching montages and reading "best of" lists. I am reflecting on the close of this decade and what it has all meant to me. Now don't laugh, reader, but I think that this decade has been hysterical. 10 years ago I was 13. I was a child. And now, I close out the decade with a high school degree, a college degree, well on my way to a masters degree, a career well underway, a great marriage, a house that I call my own (despite our "renter" status), a dog who still rocks my world, and friends and family surrounding me who I love dearly.

So thank you, 00's, for changing my life in more ways than I could ever know.

"B" is for Balance

2009-12-20T19:08:00.000-05:00

It is the beautiful time of the seminary year in which final grades have been posted, but the syllabus for my J-term class has not. I officially have nothing to be reading for school... no papers to write, no theological reflecting to be doing. I must admit that I could really get used to this.

Another thing that this time of the year brings is the inevitable facebook status updates that people make as professors post the students' grades to the student portal. As I was reading through (a.k.a. being a creeper) my facebook news feed, one specific status update caught my eye. My friend posted the following...

Hmmmm... one D+, two Cs, and an F... a 1.325 average ..... maybe this place isn't for me....

Immediately upon reading, I was concerned. I know that this friend is an intelligent (and might I add well dressed... friend, you can pay me later for that one) and not one that should be receiving that type of grades. My husband, who is also a friend of this person on facebook (real life, too, just in case you were wondering...), sent me a text message regarding said status message, inquiring to its authenticity. I did the only sensible thing. I sent my friend a BBM (blackberry message) to find out. This is how the conversation played out. I have taken a bit of liberty with the conversation.

Me: Was that your real GPA?

Friend: No, just sick of people bragging.

Me: You and me both. I was just so worried!

Friend: Thank you.

Me: And between you and me, I work hard not to let anyone make me feel like crap about my 3.1 average... but it takes a lot

Friend: You shouldn't. Guess what? People who get 3.1 are pastors. B's get degrees.

Wow... I bet this friend had NO IDEA how much I needed this conversation. I have always been the kind of person who was hesitant to share my grades. In high school, I usually got higher grades than people, so I didn't want to share them for fear of making someone else feel bad. In college, I found that my high school education was perhaps not quite as challenging as those of some of my peers, and that my lackadaisical attitude toward school was going to prove a stumbling block to me. I had to learn how to study (which I still am not sure I know how to do), and my grades were not as good as those of my friends. This is not to say that my grades were bad, but I have always considered myself blessed to be surrounded by such intelligent human beings, and my college friends were certainly no exception to that. As they were flourishing in academia, I was working four time as hard to merely keep my head above water.

Then at graduation, something interesting happened. I had never really cared that my grades were not as flawless as my friends, but as I walked into the gymnasium to take my place in the line of graduates, many were wearing chords. These chords were bright orange against their black robes, so they were not to be missed. I realized as I flipped through the graduation program that the chords were to signify those who had graduated "with high honors" or "with honors." I did not have either of those chords. I was proud of my GPA and the fact that it had earned me a scholarship to continue my education at the graduate level, but I had never thought of the sinking feeling in my stomach I would feel as I posed for pictures with my friends who were chorded while I was looking stunning in my plain black robe (may I just add, however, that I had the best shoes... a rocking pair of pointy, pink, glittery pumps). If you wonder why acceptance from peers is such a big deal to me, read my previous post. I am working on it...

I imagine that my mother would have told me that the chords didn't matter, and she would have been right. After that day I could not have cared less who had a chord and who didn't...

But then I came to seminary.

Seminary is, I imagine, like many other graduate programs where people usually inquire about academic situations. "How do you think you did on that test?" Or, in the case of seminary, "How do you think that sermon turned out?" or, "man, I really think I aced that Hebrew exam!" Now, I truly believe that 99% of the people who engage in the practice of grade inquiring do not do so to put anyone down or to lift themselves up, but there are those few people that I have encountered who make me feel like they just HAD to tell me that they got an A on their final or a glowing evaluation to make me remember that I didn't. And I know that I should not let my hard work be diminished by comparing it to the work of others, but it happens!

But from here on out, I will keep in mind the words of my friend... "People who get 3.1 are pastors." Yeah! I am a pastor. Sometimes I have to tell myself again and again that sitting in the room at the nursing home may sometimes be more important than doing the supplemental readings for class. Sometimes a funeral may pop up the week of a presentation, and the presentation has to take the back seat.

Now, I understand that there are a few students out there who manage to balance 2+ jobs plus families and other responsibilities and manage to pull off a 4.0 (I know this because I am friends with a few of them), but I have become more comfortable in knowing that I am not that kind of person. If I allow myself to dwell on my grades, I will not be able to maintain the relationships necessary for keeping my family and my ministry healthy.

So I have learned in seminary that, for me, "B" stands for balance. And a balanced "B" is a grade that I will humbly accept any semester.

2009-12-12T19:39:00.000-05:00

wow, a semester really will fly... I cannot believe I have neglected my poor blog for this long...

I have had a really difficult time in seminary this semester, and I am just realizing it now that the semester is over (thank GOD). This semester has been full of more reading and writing than I could have ever imagined, plus the added stress of having my first church appointment. Writing an additional 8-10 page paper every week in the form of a sermon seemed to be one of the easiest parts of my weeks as they blew past me. The hardest part of it all was the fact that I have felt a huge disconnect in the social sector...

Now, in my life I have never had a shortage of friends. I thrive in social settings with people, but the more I reflect on my time in high school and college the more I realize that I function best in a circle of friends as the person who understands that she isn't quite at the same social level as everyone else, but is funny enough to make up the difference. Now, hear me out before you try to tell me otherwise...

- I dated some low quality people. That is NOT to say that every guy I dated was a loser, because they weren't, but lots of times I found myself in relationships just for the sake of having a boyfriend...

- I found the groups that I fit well in and worked to be in formal leadership positions to secure my friendships. For example, I didn't do well playing volleyball, found myself sitting the bench more often than I had ever dreamed, and I quit (man... that was hard... I have always justified the quitting with a shoulder injury... real injury, bad excuse...). In band, however, I did well and ended up field commander. The same goes for musicals. I was never the star, but had roles just bigger than average...

- In college, I found myself being the funny girl... I literally can't count how many times guys confided in me that they were in love with my roommate or that they thought my friend was great looking. And the one time a guy was really head over heels for me, I really couldn't (and sometimes still can't) get over the fact that the girl he was with before me was much prettier. I banked on my humor to get me through, which served me pretty well.

... and those are just a few of the many examples that I can think of. Now I don't want to be pitied or told that I'm wrong, because I am just reflecting on my own experiences. But this semester, something really interesting happened... When I did not have the time or the energy to get by with my humor, I found myself struggling to invest in significant social relationships. I see other people attending social events that I didn't get invited to, or people making plans that don't involve me. This is mostly my own fault...

but the greatest thing is that I have learned how I measure myself. I have always considered myself an extrovert, and I truly believe that I am, but I have spent so much time telling myself that drawing energy from being around people and banking on always being around people are very different things...

I am still reflecting on what it means in my life and relationships, but what I do know is that I am blessed to be where I am surrounded by the people I am, and I need to not be caught up in my identity in relation to others, but in relation to God and God's calling upon my life.

The Most Beautiful Thing I've Read Today

2009-10-15T20:20:00.000-04:00

My friend, Julia, had posted something striking when researching for class, and I must admit that I had a similar experience this evening. I consider it a blessing to enjoy this project so much. As I read each word of the biography of Anna Howard Shaw, I learn to appreciate her in a new way, feeling as though she is a friend of mine, which is exactly what Dr. Lobody intended (or at least what I think she intended) with this project. After Anna (because I honestly feel that we're on a first name basis) has struggled on her path to become educated she moved and saw her first woman preacher. Here is what she writes. Her words moved me to tears... "Her sermon was delivered on a Sunday morning, and I was, I think, almost the earliest arrival of the great congregation which filled the church. It was a wonderful moment when I saw my first woman minister enter her pulpit; and as I listened to her sermon, thrilled to the soul, all my early aspirations to become a minister myself stirred in my with cumulative force. After the services I hung for a time on the fringe of the group that surrounded her, and at last, when she was alone and about to leave, I found courage to introduce myself and pour forth the tale of my ambition. Her advice was as prompt as if she had studied my problem for years. 'My child,' she said, 'give up your foolish idea of learning a trade and go to school...'" Beautiful. Powerful. Moving.

Appreciate Your Pastor

2009-10-11T17:56:00.000-04:00

You can't ever win with sermons. Well, ok, maybe sometimes you can, but today was certainly not one of those times for me. Let me preface this by saying that the month of October is my least favorite month of the year because of some immense personal and community loss I experienced during this month. No matter how hard I try to enjoy it (and I do try, believe me), it always turns out to be more hard than I thought it would be. This month is no different.

All that being said, my genius, novice pastor self decided to preach on the Job lectionary text this week, the Sunday before my infamous "dead-mom" anniversary (sorry if it sounds insensitive... it is how I cope). The sermon I was going to preach was no doubt going to be difficult for me to preach on a very personal level, but I decided that I was going to preach it anyway. Now, I am typically a manuscript preacher, but on this occasion I stuck a little bit more closely to the manuscript than I normally do, fearing that if I strayed, I would make myself cry like a 13 year old girl after her first heartbreak.

One member of my congregation loves to tell me his reaction to the sermon. Even when theological criticism, I generally really enjoy the conversation. As he approached me after the service, I was kind of excited to hear what he had to say. He very plainly told me that he would be offering me constructive criticism and proceeded to tell me that I had great oratory, but a very poor sermon. He then said that the way you put babies/children to sleep is by reading to them, and I did that to my congregation today. I told him that, unfortunately, that is one of the pitfalls of being a student pastor... I don't always get the time to do more than simply prepare my sermon, let alone memorize it or try to deliver it from an outline. Sometimes it is just not feasible.

I continued with the cordial handshakes of parishioners. Each time I thought about this man's comment, tears would well up in my eyes. Not wanting to cry in front of people over sermon criticism, I retreated to my office. After gathering myself, I started packing up my things to head home for the afternoon and was greeted by a string of three people who told me that they really enjoyed my "different" approach to Job, stating that the sermon was just what their wounded hearts needed to hear that day. I was truly touched.

... but as I drove home, the uplifting comments were drowned out by the replaying of the comments of the one man who had told me that my sermon was not very good. He had no idea that I needed to stick to my manuscript for personal reasons, nor did I care to tell him. And no matter how much I told myself that his comments should not bear much weight, they did.

This situation just reminds me of a blog post that my friend, Michele, wrote about how preaching is like making visual art. Preachers put so much solitary time, energy, effort, pray, personality, and emotion into a sermon that when we deliver it, instead of feeling relieved, we (and by "we" I really mean "I") feel exhausted and sometimes a bit paranoid that people did not hear the sermon the way we meant them to. I felt that this person had so horribly misunderstood my sermon that all I wanted to do was go home and curl up and never preach again.

And yet I know that God used my words to touch the hearts of listeners, and I have to remind myself that constructive criticism at least means that someone listened...

What a great first Pastor Appreciation Day...

Lily Pads

2009-09-01T22:04:00.001-04:00

My favorite author wrote in my favorite book about lily pads. She writes that our journey in life is just like jumping from lily pad to lily pad, from one safe place to another.

I have really felt that way lately. Just when I get settled on one lily pad, something else falls into the water, causing just enough of a ripple that causes me to jump. Sometimes that jump is welcomed. That is the jump that comes off of a nice, strong, green, lily pad. I am ready for this jump. The lily pad provides a steady base that I can spring off of, reaching another lily pad that will hold my weight. This is like when I graduated college, ready to get married and start seminary, knowing that what I was leaving would always provide a strong foundation, but more importantly a strong sounding board. I would leave that place, never coming back to it, but always remembering how long it had held me up.

But then there are those lily pads that sink when you hit them. Maybe they hold you up for a while, but as you grow heavy and settle into your life on that lily pad, it sinks under your weight. And as the water starts to creep in over the edges of the lily pad, you realize that you have to jump off, without seeing a lily pad in front of you, but knowing that the one you are on is not where you want to stay.

I have started to realize that life is just a series of lily pads... you will never settle in one safe place, but like Anne writes, you just have to move from safe place to safe place. And now I have to decide (luckily not by myself) weather I will stay or if I will jump. And I don't see any lily pad in front of me. I just have to figure out whether this lily pad is the strong, green one, or if the water is creeping up towards my feet.

I'm just a statistic

2009-08-26T14:31:00.001-04:00

I have to admit that my small town upbringing has finally caught up with me. Not always remembering the necessity of locking doors was kind of instilled in me in good ole Upper Sandusky. Last week, after a meeting with my mentor, I left my wallet in my car and walked into the house. It wasn't until the next morning that I realized that I couldn't find my wallet. I sat down in my car first and saw that my prescription sunglasses were laying in their case on the seat. This may not seem unusual to most people, but I don't wear them very often, and if I do, I don't put them back in their case until someone rides with me and I need to put them away. As I turned on the car, the gas light came on. Reaching down into the place I normally shove my wallet, I didn't find it. That's not a big deal. It is probably in the back seat. I turned off my car and looked in the back seat. Not there. So perhaps it has fallen on the floor and wedged itself under the seat. Still not there. At this point I call Garrett, freak out, tear the house apart, root through bags and purses, realize how late I am and leave anyway.

As I am driving to church on my gaslight with no cash or plastic to buy gas, and no ID to show if I write a check, I call every place I was the day before, the people I was with, etc. to see if anyone could be of any help. No luck. I get back from church, exhaust myself looking for it, and wait for Garrett to get home. When he arrives, we both scan every inch of the house, turning over furniture and all, looking for my wallet. Not finding it by the time of our dinner date, we leave, and on the ay I call in all of my cards lost/stolen and call in for new insurance cards. Thankfully, I have my passport, so Saturday morning when I go to get a new driver license (on the card it does NOT say "driver's license," just FYI) it was not as much of a hassle as I thought it would be. The whole time I have written my wallet off as "lost" because I don't want to say that it is stolen, find it a few days later, and then be embarrased.

Fast forward to today. As I am leaving my morning class, I check my phone and see that I have a voicemail from a Delaware number that I didn't recognize. I listen to the voicemail, and it is a beautiful voice on the phone saying that she has a few of my credit cards. Her husband was walking their dog through the park that is two houses down from my house and after his dog (Copper, I later learned) had done his "business," the gentleman decided to be a good citizen of Delaware and pick up the poop. While disposing of said poop in the trash can, he saw credit cards, a few business cards, and reciepts strewn about in the can. He (again the responsible citizen) decided to retrieve all of this information, and give me a call. I was quite shocked when his wife called, and I went over to her house to pick up what was left of my wallet. She was a kind woman, with a kind husband (who I didn't meet, but assume he is great because he works as a foreign language professor... I haven't met very many mean language professors. Crazy? Yes. Mean? Not so much) who invited me in, returned my personal information with a promise that she didn't look through it, and gave me her apologies for how awful this has been for her.

So I returned home and filed a police report, not with the hopes of any resolution, but just so that the police were made aware of the situation in our quiet neighborhood. The police officer told me that he couldn't do much, and reminded me to keep better care of my personal information (thanks... like I really need reminded) and went on his way.

I guess I never understood how much people meant it when they say that a robbery or break in robbed them of more than their possesions; it robbed them of their security. This experience really has done that for me. I worry now about whether my garage is locked, and if I latched the windows shut. I wonder if the person who took my wallet just needed a bit of cash, or if they wanted to harm someone. Will they just spend the money, or did they gather enough information to take more money from me from my checking and (meager) savings accounts? I wonder if they'll come back. I feel like my home has been violated.

I have always thought the best of people in all circumstances, but situations like this challenge that view. I also wonder how I am supposed to forgive someone when I don't know who they are or what intentions they had. If they needed a little bit of cash to get a prescription for their grandmother with no medical coverage, fine. Forgiveness granted. But if they needed beer for the party? How am I supposed to forgive that?

But that's what God calls us to... to forgive in all times, places, situations. We are supposed to forgive the drug addict who stole our wallet just like the person who needed a bit more money for something truly worthwhile. Forgive. Easier said than done.

It is like the news story about Abdelbaset Ali al-Megrahi who bombed a plane in the late 1980's. He has recently been freed from jail because he is thought to be terminally ill. Many of the family members of people killed in the bombing are upset that this killer is allowed to go free. One woman (a mother whose son was killed) said that she forgives him, but that doesn't mean that he should go free. Is that real forgiveness? Or is that saying we forgive someone and still needing that person to be punished so that we feel closure.

So here is the question I pose to you, readers...

Does true forgiviness always bring about a sense of closure?

2009-08-18T19:51:00.000-04:00

If there is one thing I’ve learned in my life, it is that what I always thought of as a mundane and normal upbringing was anything but that. In my 22 years, I have never heard of anyone who had an upbringing like mine. Sometimes I am frustrated by that, but more often I am thankful for my life experiences thus far, no matter how difficult they were or to deal with at the time.

It is often joked that the average American family has 2.5 children. My family really did have 2.5 children. I was the second born child; the first female. My brother and I often tease that mom and dad had children until they got what they wanted, and that was me. The other .5 came from the fact that there was always another child in our house. We often had a foster child, and most of the time that child was one of my cousins.

I feel that I must explain a bit about my mother’s upbringing in order for a person to understand my childhood. My mother, named Vanessa, was one of four children. She was born in 1955 in Grover Hill, Ohio to a family who lived in a two room home with no indoor plumbing. She often told us stories of her days in high school and her preparations for a romantic date. If she wanted a bath, she had to walk one half of a mile down the road to her grandfather’s house. Her family was beyond poor, and she always knew it. Her father (from what I’ve been told) was a very loving man, but his job in a factory was not enough to provide for their family. He spent most of his time at work, and therefore she did not see much of him. Her brothers, lacking a strong male figure, often beat her and her sister. Her mother simply looked the other way saying, “Boys will be boys.” None of her siblings graduated from high school, and the only reason she did was at the urging of her mentor, Adelphine, for whom she worked. It was because of Adelphine that my mother attended and graduated from the University of Findlay. It was Adelphine that reminded my mother that she was a beautiful, smart, and talented young woman. No other person told her these things growing up. Adelphine also instilled the importance of education in my mother’s life. Because of Adelphine, my mother took it upon herself to make every child she encountered know that he/she had potential and that someone loved him/her. This is how my cousins often came to live with us. When my aunt, her sister, failed to provide for her children, my mother graciously took them in while her sister got back on her feet.

Education was always the top priority in our home. I was always the youngest child in the house and took it upon myself to catch up to what the bigger kids were doing. When my brother (3 years older than me) learned to read, I learned too. If Bradley could do it, so could I. My brother learned because he had to. I learned because I wanted to. While many of our friends spent summers on exotic vacations and on cruises with their families, my family never took vacations. My mother viewed a leisurely vacation as a waste. Vacation in the Barrett household was a day at C.O.S.I. or a trip to the Ohio Historical Society. At the time, I felt robbed of the typical experiences of a family, but in retrospect I see that having a teacher for a mother was about more than having a mother who spent her days in a classroom with third graders. My mother’s job was to teach, and her most prized students were her biological children.

My father was one of ten children. His family could not afford to send him to college. If attending college was something he would like to do, he would have had to fund the experience on his own. He decided to work and keep his money rather than attend college and throw his money away. He spent most of my childhood working in a factory, and when the factory laid him off, he took up the profession of driving a semi-truck. I, like my mother, did not see much of my father, but I knew that he loved me. I would even go as far as to define myself as a daddy’s girl.

My parents loved one another. I only remember them fighting once in the entirety of my childhood. I did not know that parents existed who did not love each other. The parents of my friends all loved one another as well. Perhaps this was because I was raised in the church, or maybe it was just luck. Divorce was a distant word in my childhood mind. It was an abstract concept that only other children at school had to deal with. I thought my childhood was perfect.

My spiritual life was always fostered. Both of my parents were faithful Christians and I followed suit. Baptized as an infant, I was raised in the church, and often I felt as though the church was just as much a home to me as my house. My parents chose to raise my brother and me in the United Methodist Church. When I was confirmed at age 12, and I felt as though no other church could be home to me like the United Methodist Church was. I was one of the few 12 year olds in my confirmation class that took the vows of confirmation seriously. At confirmation, I was a proud member of the United Methodist Church. I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I quickly fell into a leadership role in my church. I loved serving on the district and conference youth councils, and the highlight of my year was always the West Ohio Annual Conference.

I attended my district youth camp when I was in high school, and the first time I remember having my own theological thought was at this camp. The camp coordinator asked all the youth pastors to stand up and share the date on which they were “saved.” After all the youth pastors had shared, the coordinator stood up and said that if we didn’t know the exact date that we were “saved,” we were not truly saved. This was a problem for me, because I didn’t know an exact date. As far back as I remember, I had loved Jesus and considered myself a Christian, having been raised in the church. This man would not devalue my upbringing. I felt that this date was the date that I was called to ministry. I knew that it was my task to raise people up in the church like I had been, whether they were infants or elders.

Upon graduating high school, I was set to attend Ohio Northern University to major in education, just like my mother had at her college. I knew that I was called to work in a church, but at that point in my life I believed my calling to be a professional educator first and a pastor part-time. I attended one education class and knew immediately that I was not going to cut it as a teacher. I called home to tell my parents that I was switching majors, and the change was welcomed after a bit of conversation. I felt at home in my religious education classes. I knew that the tug to educate was meant to be in a church setting. I felt that I was making my family proud.

Later on in my freshman year of college my world began to fall apart. My mother, since my childhood, had suffered from a degenerative kidney disease. We always knew that at some point she would need a kidney transplant or be bound to a life of dialysis. Her sister felt like she owed my mother her life for taking care of her children, and so she offered to donate her kidney. We were all elated at the prospect of having the real Vanessa, my mom, back. In my high school years she had grown tired and lethargic, and we knew that after a transplant her body would heal itself and she would be the spunky woman that we had all known. The surgery date was set, and things went according to plan. The transplant team kept all of us gathered in the waiting room posted on the surgery. It was when we noticed that we hadn’t been updated by the surgical team that we first knew something was wrong. When the surgeon stepped into the waiting room, we knew that the news he was going to deliver was not news we wanted to hear. He began by telling us that both my mother and aunt were in recovery. We all breathed a sigh of relief, but he went on to tell us that the kidney lost its blood supply and had as a result died. My mother would still be sick, and my aunt was now one kidney short.

After my freshman year and the transplant ordeal, I decided to move to Connecticut for the summer to work. My family supported me, and I packed up my car and left. I experienced an extreme case of homesickness, and spent all of my free time on the phone with my mom. She told me that she was feeling more and more tired, and she felt like her body was shutting down. The blood that was not being cleaned by her dying kidneys was poisoning her earthly body. I knew it was serious, but she refused to let me quit my job and come home to be with her. She assured me that she would be waiting for me when I got home. I received a phone call at the end of my summer telling me that my brother had been found to be a match for her, and that a second transplant was being arranged.

I came home from Connecticut hopeful that this time it would be different. My mother said many times that she didn’t want to go through this surgery, but she went forward with planning at the urging of my father, my brother, and me. The day the surgery was scheduled, she spiked a fever and the surgery was postponed for a week. She joked that she would do anything to get out of this surgery. Finally, the surgery went on as scheduled. My father and I waited to hear word on how my brother and mother were doing. The surgeon stepped into the waiting room, beaming, and told us that the surgery had gone perfectly. Life seemed to be back on track. As soon as my mother was in recovery, I went to see her. She and I chatted and then she told me to go back to school so that I didn’t miss another day of class. I obliged, knowing how much my education meant to her. I kissed her goodbye and told her I loved her. That was the last time I would speak to her. She died from complications from the transplant a few days later.

I dealt with my mother’s death a bit differently than some. The day we buried her, I returned back to school and went to class. I attempted to deal with the situation by putting it out of my mind and returning back to life as usual. That worked for a while, but I always felt like half of me was missing. I always knew I was like a carbon copy of my mother, but having her presence gone from my life was a kind of emptiness I had never experienced. Often people would look at me and say, “You look just like your mother.” Each time I heard this, my heart broke a bit more. I saw sadness in the eyes of people as they spoke these words, and it hurt me to know that every time they looked at me, they were reminded of how much they missed my mother. I felt my family falling apart. My father, who had always had issues with depression, became removed and quiet, and my brother felt as though her death was his fault. Bradley became more hostile to the idea of God than he had been previously, which was hard for me to witness. I used my college as a refuge from the home life that went from perfect to destroyed in a matter of days.

I never really lost my faith in God through the whole process of grieving, although I did take plenty of time to question why a God who was so loving would let my heart experience so much pain. I became frustrated with everyone feeding me empty religious clichés, and I chose to seek a new friendship with someone outside of my circle of friends. This person’s name was Garrett. He was an acquaintance of mine from freshman year, and through a few conversations on the internet, I found that he was the only person who would just listen to me. Many nights I spent the evening sitting next to him in his dorm room crying. It was my opportunity to vent my frustrations of my newfound motherless life and have someone tell me it was OK to cry instead of urging me to stop crying and try to move on.

I was at a point in my life where I was grasping for any stability I could, and I found that in my faith. Though I spent a great deal of time questioning, it was easy for me to recognize that the questioning I was doing was necessary for my growth. Garrett took our newfound friendship and asked me (multiple times) if I wanted to take our friendship and turn it into something more, and (multiple times) I told him, “No.” I felt as if I needed to continue processing without a boyfriend adding an opinion, when really, his presence had calmed and reassured me in ways that I had not understood. One night I was heading to Garrett’s apartment when my roommate called me out on turning him down. It was then that I realized that I was foolish to turn this wonderful man down when I had been in an intimate emotional relationship with him for months. I walked into his apartment and told him that I would like to date him. The rest is history.

His proposal was perfect, but that is another story in itself. Garrett and I committed our lives to one another in June 2008. Since our friendship began, he has been my rock. He is the person that allows me to truly be myself. Spiritually, I needed him, and he is one of the few people I feel comfortable talking with about my spiritual doubts. I feel as if I have been a spiritual leader to so many that I cannot appear empty or questioning in front of them. Garrett is the person I turn to be filled up. He has been the person that took on the role of encourager for me when my mother died.

The most interesting thing in my mind is that Garrett never met my mother. While to some that may cause tension in a relationship, for us, it has been a blessing. While others that knew my mother may tire of hearing stories about her over and over again, Garrett takes those stories and uses each one to put another piece into the puzzle of who she was.

All of the long and drawn out story of the death of my mother and my relationship with Garrett has allowed me to understand that God works outside of the church. Before the death of my mother, faith was an activity that was lived out in church and at church functions. Faith was a happy activity that was never hard. I feel that now I have a faith that is life encompassing. My faith is now a faith that lives in my home and in my marriage and in my family (however broken).

With all of my life experiences, I am preparing myself for a future in a broken church and in a broken world. The value of my personal experiences has shown me that each person has a story in which God has had a hand in. The stories of two people are never exactly the same. Part of the wonder that the world holds for me is just that. God works individually in each life, and therefore, in each church. No two churches are alike. The future in store for me is full of wonder and excitement as I get to be a part of many churches in which God is moving and working.

I'd like to jump through the hoop a little early...

2009-07-17T11:50:00.001-04:00

For those of you who don't speak United Methodist, I apologize in advance... but I have a frustration to share...

The UM Book of Discpline says that a certified candidate for ministry may be commissioned at the halfway point in their seminary studies. So when I realized that I would hit that point after fall semester 2009, I entertained the thought of applying for commissioning. In asking a few questions about how that would all pan out, here is a portion of the email that I received from an intentionally nameless someone who serves on the District Committee on Ministry...

"While the Book of Discipline allows persons to be commissioned prior to graduation from Seminary, West Ohio has held that since the superviesed years don't start until you graduate, there is no good reason to be commissioned while still in seminary. Once commissioned, the supervised years begin and to try to do that while being a pastor and completing your education would be a bit much."

Like going to school and doing field ed is too much? We meet at least once every two weeks with our supervisor, doing ministry and completing a whole lot of other stuff for our school work.

Like going to school and working in a church without field ed requirements is too much? Anyone who works in a church in any capacity will tell you that being in school and working in a church is not easy. But we do it anyway, because it is what we are called and capable of doing.

Plus, like a lot of other conferences recognize... if you are commissioned before you graduate school your Board of Ordained Ministry can say, "Hey, Anna, we think you are doing great ministry, but would really like to see you have more experience in counseling. Why don't you take another counseling class before you graduate." Instead of saying, "Hm... you lack some classwork... why didn't you take XYZ class while you were in seminary. We're going to wait to ordain you for another year while you get some continuing ed in that area."

Thoughts?

What's being a woman got to do with it?

2009-07-08T09:17:00.000-04:00

I have had a lot on my mind around the matter of my ministry, my gender, and my age. After reading this blog post, I think that I have finally internalized my feelings enough to verbalize them.

Reading the post about Anna Howard Shaw, I was reminded of all the things that women have had to endure for the sake of ministry, especially ordination. I am so thankful to have strong women like Anna who have blazed the trails so that I don't have so many trails to blaze of my own. Especially in working with the General Commission on the Status and Role of Women I have had the privilege and the pleasure of getting to know some of the most capable and wonderful women in the United Methodist Church. I am so proud to count myself as a colleauge, but moreso as a sister in Christ to each and every one of these women.

In working towards my own ordination, I have heard a variety of advice from many people. Some of it is quality, tidbits that I will never forget. Some is comical. I understand that it came out of their experience, but internally I can't help but chuckle. Then there is the infuriating advice. The advice that is completely unmerited and unwanted.

The first advice I can think of from the unmerited and unwanted advice happened before a class in a casual conversation. I was speaking with an older (meaning older than myself) male classmate who is currently serving a church as a student pastor. When I told him that I would be taking a congregation of my own as a student pastor in the fall, he "so graciously" warned me about finding an older (again, meaning older than myself) woman to be a mentor, so that I could talk over the specific challenges that young women have in the ministry, especially in rural congregations.

Now, I know that some rural congregations are still not keen on the idea of having female pastors, and that some rural congregations are composed primarily of older adults. But I was very frustrated by his assumption that I would automatically face challenges that would require me to have a mentor just to talk about those specific issues. I think I was more frustrated by his assumptions of the people that I would be in ministry with. It was so unfair of him to assume that they would be old people who wouldn't respect the authority of a young, capable, woman. I know that my classmate was speaking out of protection for me, but I left the conversation feeling frustrated and belittled.

I have another colleague who I email with quite frequently regarding ministry. We share stories and experiences, frustrations and triumphs, and many other things. When this person (gender left neutral on purpose) asked me how my first few weeks at my new church went, this person was suprised that I haven't had any major issues. I told this person how people readily and willingly address me as Pastor Anna (even though it still freaks me out a little), how they ask and seriously consider my advice, and how they respect my decisions.

An example of this is that the church secretary has served as the food pantry coordinator for years. Each year she must sign a contract with the foodbank that provides our food pantry with many staple items. This contract requires the signature of the pastor, after the pastor has reviewed the contract points. I reviewd the contract, and a few of the points were not being fulfilled by our church's foodbank. It was not as a specific oversight of any one person, but I told the church secretary that I didn't feel comfortable signing this contract until the policies of the church's foodbank had been revised accordingly. The next day, new policies were set in place and the church secretary thanked me for reading the entirety of the contract before I signed. She (though she has done it "her" way for years and years) had no problem with my methods.

Yes, I am young. Yes, I am a woman. Yes, I am qualified and capable. Yes, my church members recognize all of these points and respect me for all of them. I have had no problems thus far regarding my age and gender. Does that mean I will never have problems? Probably not.

Does being warned about problems and conflicts in advance prepare us? Perhaps... but often I think those warnings turn us on to problems and conflicts that we may not have pegged as happening because of a certain factor. I liken it to the dentist. When the dentist says, "I am going to give you this injection, you may feel a pinch and a sting," you anticipate that pinching and stinging. But if you don't know what is coming, you experience the injection just as it is, without having any notions of how it will feel.

For some people, that not knowing what you will experience is scary. I recognize that very fully. The way I function, however, is that I would like to experience everything without having my mind set on a situation or outcome in the beginning. I prefer to reflect more after the experience. My preference is no better than others, but I wonder if other young, capable women have experienced the same feelings as I have.

Kate

2009-07-04T20:28:00.000-04:00

I'm praying for Kate... will you?

http://promisetangemanblog.com/life/pray-for-kate

2009-07-02T11:32:00.001-04:00

Well the craziness of traveling is done (for now), and I have slept off my jet lag. I have even turned in the paper for the class, writing much more than I had planned. I had about a week to just exist, which was wonderful, but by the end of the week I was ready to have something substantial to do.

And something substantial I got!! This last Sunday was my first Sunday as the pastor of the Darby Plains Larger Parish UMCs. It was a great Sunday for a couple of reasons. First, I got to spend my anniversary with my awesome husband who supports me in the ministry. I am so thankful for him in all of this. I also got to experience the love and congratulations of my parents. My dad, his wife Julie, and my mother and father-in-law were all in attendance for my first Sunday as pastor. I really enjoyed getting to know these congregation in worship and fellowship.

I spent Monday morning in the office doing some worship planning, and I also had the service of committal for a family member of my congregation. It was surreal. I am so humbled by this call to ministry. It just all seems like a dream...

A good dream that is what I am supposed to be dreaming. A dream that makes me happy and feels fulfilling, and a dream that I am blessed to have my husband, family, and friends supporting me in.

Japan 3

2009-06-11T08:26:00.000-04:00

Japan 2

2009-06-10T08:50:00.000-04:00

Well, 2 main points for today...

- sushi is not as bad as I thought it was and
- being covered in Korean mosquito bites is not as fun as everyone says it is (ok, so no one has really told me that being attacked by Korean mosquitos is fun, but now I know personally that it is not)

Last night the Rev. Dr. Kim-chi told us that he would take us to the fish market (world famous) in the morning if we wanted to. Not everyone wanted to go, but four of us were adventerous and took the plunge. We dragged our sorry butts out of bed and walked out the door just after 6am. It took us a while to get the subway figured out, but a kind soul who could handle the small amount of Japanese that PK could speak and led us right to the fish market. The woman who runs the place which we are staying joked that you could get off of the subway and follow your nose which was very true!! The second you stepped off of the subway train the aroma of fish filled your nose. The thing was that this fish didn't smell bad. Most Americans haven't ever smelled real fresh fish. It does not smell bad at all. On our way to the fish market we passed a few Shinto shrines. Some are so small along the roads that you would not even know they existed if you did not know what you were looking for. I have always enjoyed learning about Shinto, and it is neat to have enough background to not have to ask questions, but to just know about it. When we arrived at the market and it was pretty destitute. Apparently arriving at 6:45 is late, and all the fresh fish have sold out. We were lucky, however, and found one restaraunt that had the day's catch still available. We ordered a bunch of tuna sushi and enjoyed it in community. I even ate one whole piece!! The journey back to the house was amongst the commuter rush, so it was pretty crowded. There were not many women on the subway, and I felt a bit out of place.

We got back and just tooled around the house for a bit. The only thing on the agenda for the day was a bus tour of Tokyo. We took the Japan Rail (JR) to the bus stop and just spent some time in the area shopping and looking for food that was relatively cheap. We don't quite have the hang of the yen, and the dollar is weak to the yen, so it is hard to do mental math. I luckily found some sort of gel for my mosquito bites, and that kept me from itching too much during the day. It is hard to communicate with a pharmacist when you don't speak the same language. It makes me wonder how frustrated people in the U.S. who don't speak English are pushed around and shown anger by those who do speak English... hm...

The bus tour didn't consist of a whole lot except for going to the Sensoji Buddhist Temple. The area is world famous for the shopping strip right in front of the temple. It was quite the site. I can't wait to post pictures of it. Again, I was thankful for all the studying I have done in the area of Buddhism. Even my very basic knowledge saved me a lot of confusion and question asking when we walked around the temple. It was an absolutely gorgeous space. The thing I will remember most is the people gathered around the incense bowl at the foot of the steps waving their arms to cover themselves in the smell of that incense. As you walked up the steps you could smell it from the people, and it was a handsome smell, just like the handsome temple that I was walking into. I wish I would have had more time to soak it all in, but as we were on a tour we didn't have a whole lot. I did finish my souvenir shopping, and headed back to the bus.

The evening was pretty uneventful. For frugality's sake, we ate at McDonald's and headed back to the house. As we journeyed back, the physical limits of the group were tested. There are some on the group that are not able to walk long distances and do stairs with ease, and so we were always scoping for shorter routes, elevators, and escalators. It really slowed the group down, and we were all forced to understand the needs of the group as a whole instead of just our own.

After we had taken the JR back a few stops, we put those who were tired in a cab and strolled our way back to the house through Harajuku. It seems strange to just say that so casually. It is true that the district is a fashion capital. We passed all sorts of designer stores: Fendi, D&G, Burberry, Dior, Cartier, and so many more. The people in the area are all dressed like they have lived in Harajuku their whole lives. I felt very underdressed. Though the people are so fashionable, I have been pleased to see that many more women wear tennis shoes/flats here. Coming from Korea, the land of spike heels, it was good to see people who value the look of their feet barefoot over how their outfit looks as a whole. Seeing the women wearing heels makes me think of all of the blisters, hammer toes, and bunyons in the future for these women. Japanese podiatrists may want to move to S. Korea ;) Also, there are many more "Westerners" here than in Seoul. It has been nice to hear a bit more English, although certainly not necessary.

Folks are tiring easily here now. A few people feel under the weather, and some (ok, not some, just me) are itchy. I am going to go to bed on the hard floor and be thankful that I have the opportunity to be on such a trip and to have a roof over my head in this interesting and lively city.

Japan 1

2009-06-09T10:02:00.001-04:00

It is with great pleasure that I write a blog that is current and does not need back dated!

Today was our last time in Korea. We were bid farewell by many of the pastors of Bupyeong Church and were accompanied to the airport by Peter and James. None of us want to leave the two of them, but we were comforted by the hope of their visit to the U.S. Now we just have to make it happen.

As we got nearer to going through security, one of the women on our trip decided that a minor condition she had been experiencing was bad enough to visit the urgent care in the airport. The visit was only $12, and she got the medication that she needed, but she was warned that if the condition does not improve, she will not be permitted to re-enter the United States. That is a bit scary.

We all spent the last of our won on candy and waited at the gate for flight. Though the flight itself was turbulent, I got upgraded along with four others from our group to economy plus (not very exciting in the grand scheme of things, but since I was the only one who didn't get bumped up to first class on that same flight into Korea, I felt justified). We knew when we got on the plane that the health questionaire would happen, but the Japanese government means business with this H1N1 thing. They pulled a few members of our group for random extra paperwork. We all made it through the quarantine and customs, and after a long wait, the purchase of bus and rail tickets, the exchange of money (won and dollars to yen), we set out for Tokyo via bus. It was good to see coastline that was not lined with barbed wire. It is strange to think that we are only a two hour flight from Korea and the political tension is so much less.

A 1.5 hour bus ride and a CRAZY taxi trip took us to our home for the next few days, the Methodist Missionary Center in Tokyo. All of the women (8) are sleeping in one room, mostly on traditional Japanese mat-type beds. We'll see if I can walk in the morning! We grabbed a quick bit, spent some time de-briefing from Korea, and relaxed.

It is off to bed. I am tired, but excited to be in Japan. Garrett asked me if I was ready to come home. Earlier in the day I would have said yes, but now I am not so sure. I miss him and my Loler, but I am refreshed by the change of scenery.

South Korea 13

2009-06-09T09:39:00.000-04:00

June 8

I felt remarkably refreshed in the morning. My solitude must have paid off. After breakfast we set out to enjoy our last full day in Korea.

Pastor James told us that Rev. Peter was "in poor condition." While we have all enjoyed his devotion to hospitality, it is a real reminder of the importance of self care while in vocational ministry.

Pastor James bravely leads us for the day. The first stop was the Samsung Center where we got to experience some of the newest technologly that Samsung has developed recently. The most noteable was the "fingerthin" 60" LCD TV. man, that would be a souvenir for Garrett! Our next stop was to the market. We had won in hand and were ready to spend. We were told that this was a tourist market, but i did not see very many tourists outside of our group. I just cannot picture myself shopping in this setting on a regular basis. I did, however, getting even better at bartering. I ended up making deals for half of our group because they were too timid to push the vendors. Imagine me, the aggressive shopper. Garrett probably wouldn't believe that at all. I am too much of a people pleaser normally to be good at bartering.

The market was so busy that I felt like my introverted evening the night before was immediately washed away in the crowd. Also in the crowd were men who had deformed and missing appendages (mainly legs) who would crawl around on the ground with boomboxes on wheels looking for money. Whenever someone would step over them or onto them, they would just grunt a little and keep moving. It was an interesting site. I wonder if they are being "pimped" for their deformaties.

I got all of my souvenirs from Korea, and only had about 1,000 won left. It was a good hour of shopping. We came back, had a quick rest, and then were taken out by Peter and James for our "last supper." We ate on the upper deck of a restaraunt and enjoyed traditional Korean food with our Korean friends. We laughed a lot, reminisced about our time in Korea, and did not want to go back for the "final lecture" at church. We were happily suprised when Peter told us that instead he was going to treat us to an evening at the traditional Korean sauna instead!

What an experience the sauna was! Let me be frank for a minute. I turned the corner into the locker room and was taken aback by all of the nakedness in the ladies' locker room. It was quite shocking!! The ladies of the group changed into the shorts and t-shirts provided by the sauna and met up with the gents for some sweating time. We entered the first of three heat rooms. This one was 64 degrees celcius. The room was painted on the inside like a pyramid, and half of the floor was a rock pit. Some of us put our feet into the rocks while sitting on a step, not being very adventurous. The others sat on the mat on the floor and played jacks with Peter. As we all chatted, a women came in and dug herself a pit in the scorching rocks and just laid down. Three of us were brave enough to take the plunge and lay in the rocks. It was intense, but so relaxing.

After each session in the heat room, we took a quick trip to the igloo. This is seriously a real igloo in the middle of a spa. I had to remind myself not to lean against the walls for fear that my back would stick to them. We worked our way up to the highest heat room, the 85 degrees celcius room (194 degrees F). We (for time's sake) didn't stay in long, but it was so worth it. After leaving the heat room, we decided to go Korean style and take a dip into a few of the various hot tubs. These tubs are separate for men and women, as it is traditional to go nude. It was fun to let the inhibitions go within our group, but it was awkward to be the naked Americans in a spa full of Korean women. For me, the challenge was getting looked at because I had tattoos. There was only one other women in the room with a tattoo. The rest of the experience I will not write about, as it is too personal for public eyes ;)

It was a great close to a great time with our friends at Bupyeong Church. We exchanged gifts with Peter and James and called it a night. I think we all slept a little more relaxed that night.

South Korea 12

2009-06-09T09:07:00.000-04:00

June 7

I slept well on Ok-Jin's bed. I would be lying if I said that I wnated to sleep on the floor like I argued the night before. Her mother made me breakfast and apologized for it being so simple. Her apologies were not necessary and i did my best to tell her that. Let me just say that bathrooms in homes are very different. There was not a shower, but there were so many buttons on the toilet that I didn't know what to do with them all!

Upon returning to church we got a tour of the Sunday School classes/parking garage/choirs/orchestra spaces.

Starting with parking... only one thing... the older tower of the church can hold 34 cars. It is like a dry cleaning rail! You drive your car in, get out, and a button gets pushed and the cars go around almost as though they are on a ferris wheel. When you are through with church, you just push the button and the device brings your car down to you. NUTS!

Music... there are so many musicians in this church! There is an organ in the choir practice room and the conductor (yes, I said conductor) wears tails in the service!! All of the hymns are accompanied by a full orchestra. In the evening service the Angelos kids choir sang.

Now for Sunday school... Their program makes me reflect again on vision. An elder told us a story while we were walking to the Sunday school building. This story is about the landscape of the church. The pastor had a vision of a tree in a place that the contractor did not recommend. The pastor did not know why, but he fought for this tree so much that the contractor eventually quit. The tree went in, and when a worker fell from the scaffolding, he landed on the tree instead of the concrete. He broke four ribs, but had the tree not been there he probably would have died. The tree is still there and is called "the Tree of Life."

I guess I was going to write about Sunday school and haven't yet. We knew that the program was huge, but we did not know how intentional it was. The main office monitors attendance but not just for record's sake. If a student does not come, the call, email, and visit until they have understood (and hopefully solved) the problem. They also are prayer centered. They have many bulletin boards that remind people to pray for and evangelize to certain places (schools, etc.) and people. This ministry takes evangelism seriously. They are not scared to do it! I feel as though churches in the U.S. focus on outreach that they hope will turn into evangelism, where this church intentionally evangelizes. I must admit that I am a bit frightened of blatant evangelism. I think that is because I have only seen empty evangelism. Empty evangelism is evangelism that ends at salvation. Not Bupyeong Church! They evangelize and then support those who come to church. And if you stop coming? They will email, call, and visit. My mega-church reservations are slowly dissolving in this church. The numbers here are a testament to the faithfulness to a God who calls us to make disciples.

We attended the late morning service and I am still completely in awe of the scale. A full orchestra is mind blowing. The church is a fine tuned machine! In spite of it all, one strange thing happened after the service. Our entire group stood at the back of the narthex so that the congregation could welcome us. I had two male classmates on either side of me. A gentleman greeting the guy to my right, shaking his hand and exchanging pleasantries, and when I extended my hand to greet him, he passed right by me without acknowledging my presence. he then greeted the guy on my left in the same cordial manner in which he greeted the first male classmate. I have spent a lot of time wondering if this is a cultural thing, as it was an isolated incident or if it was indeed a matter of choice by that man. The guys seem to think it is cultural. I am not so sure...

After the service and a fabulous lunch, we heard the testament of one of the church's elders. Through his amazing testimony, one thing was abundantly clear. He (along with all the members of Bupyeong Church) believes in the faithfulness of God and the power of prayer. Some classmates and I had a long conversation after this testimony. Here are the cliffnotes...

- Why are American churches (in general) so scared of evangelism? Because we are so afraid of offending or putting people off. The people here, despite their quiet and polite nature are not afraid to boast of Jesus.
- Why were we taught in school not to pray for miracles? These people pray for miracles and they happen. Ask and you shall receive.
- No matter how great the shepherd, only sheep can produce sheep. This church has empowered the lay people to make disciples and it has obviously worked.

The evening was relaxed, with another service. The children's chorus sang, which was the highlight for me. The message was about the keys to happiness. During the message, ment were encouraged to step up and be the heads of their households, and this made me revisit the incident from earlier in the day . I cannot figure out the gender dynamics of this church (and this culture).

Later in the evening most of the group went to play basketball with pastor James, but I stayed back. My limits were being tested socially and I needed to just exist in solitude for a bit. After writing and washing some clothes in the sink I hit the sack before my roommate got home. I didn't want to speak to people, so I enjoyed letting the music (via my ipod) speak to me until I drifted off.

South Korea 11

2009-06-07T03:50:00.000-04:00

(still June 6)

With my overnight things in hand I headed to the lobby. There i met my host, Cho Ok-Jin. She was shy about using her English but told me that her brother would join us. We headed out with some of my classmates and their hosts to explore the Bupyeong area of Incheon. We had fun having coffee, eating dinner, making fans, taking pictures, and chatting. Talking with Ok-Jin and her brother, was intersting. Ok-Jin is 27 years old (Korean age), and her brother is five years older. They were suprised to hear that I was married at 23. I was even more suprised to hear that they live with their parents. in my experience, young people who live in cities live with roommates or by themselves. We all enjoyed comparing our cultures and experiencing theirs. One of my classmates and his host seem to be hitting it off and Ok-Jin and I joke that they would make a cute couple. This sparked discussion (again) of relationships and culture. Both Ok-Jin and her brother want to marry Koreans and he explained to me that it is not because of family pressure but because, though he speaks English well, he expresses himself best in Korean. He told me that he did not want to marry someone who would not experience the fullness of his love because of his limited language. Here I had thought (after meeting a Korean girl who is dating an African-American guy and worries about what her family will say when she tells them that they want to get married) that secretly all Koreans want to marry someone who is not Korean but choose not to because of the old people. What a poor assumption on my part. Americans don't know what having a national identity is all about. Our country is so young and we are currently such a mixture of people that we have very little history in common with our fellow American in comparison to the rest of the world, especially the Korean people. Why do some South Koreans want to be reunited with North Koreans, no matter how hard or far-fetched the idea may seem? Because to be divided means a severed sense of identity. To not share all of their hostory with the North Koreans is breaking the hearts of many South Korean people. I wish I could experience such strong roots.

moving on...

The young adult service in the evening was better attended than I ever imagined. They had over 250 people at their Saturday service! This group showered us with gifts, love, prayers, and acceptance. more Korean hospitality! It never ends...

After a very long (but fulfilling day) Ok-Jin and I reached her house. All the way there she kept telling her brother to take my bag for me. I wouldn't let him, but the effort was kind and a bit humorous. When we arrived, her father was still at work and her mother was out with an old friend, and so she and I shared pictures. I showed her a picture of Garrett, my dad, my brother, and I at my wedding. She then showed me a picture of her parents at their wedding 34 years ago. This picture is gorgeous with the newly married couple dressed in traditional Korean attire. I asked if they (Ok-Jin and her brother) if they wanted to wear traditional Korean attire at their weddings, and they both answered yes. They told me that the younger generation will have the wedding wearing traditional attire and then go to the reception wearing Western wedding attire, or vice versa. It is just another example of how the traditional Korean culture can be maintained while still moving forward. It is a balance that amazes me.

After a glass of corn silk tea, I hit the sack. I was wiped!! As a special treat, Ok-Jin treated me to a serenade. She sang and strummed her guitar while sitting cross-legged on her blankets while I sat in her bed. She would not let me sleep on the floor, no matter how hard I fought. I really think that if you look up hospitality in the dictionary you will find a picture of a kind Korean face in the margin.

South Korea 10

2009-06-07T03:39:00.001-04:00

June 6

Our wake up call sounded at 4:40 a.m. We had already been up for 40 minutes by then but the beautiful music over the intercom was not unwelcome. I was not excited to be up this early. Traveling is tiring, and I was truly exhausted. Little did I know how worth it being up that early would be. The first thing that astounded me was how many people came. The bottom level of the sanctuary was more than sparsely filled. Over 500 people were in attendance. As we walked in, we saw many people in deep and honest prayer already. I guess that they had been there quite a while. After a few hymns and scripture readings, they began to pray. They start praying by shouting (in Korean), "Lord! Lord! Lord!" They then pray out loud and all at once. There is name for this prayer that I know how to pronounce but not to spell. The music in the background is not mild and quiet, but full of energy and the spirit. It matches the prayer. The musician plays until 6 a.m. so that those praying can tell time by the music, but the faithful do not stop praying at 5. They pray until they are done praying. What a beautiful experience to be a part of.

We boarded the bus to Gangwha island shortly after. While we were all tired, few of us slept because we reflected on the morning. It was great to see green after being in cities for a few days. I really am a small town girl... For every cornfield in Ohio there is a rice paddy on Gangwha island. They are neat to see.

Our first stop was an Anglican chuch which was built in the traditional Korean style. Before walking in (like many places in Korea) you take off your shoes. It was a testament to the Korean Christians and their unique balance. They seem to balance their ancient culture to their religion which is so relatively new. We also visited the first Methodist church on the island, but before we got there we were randomly stopped by soldiers at a checkpoint. The sea on the North side of the island is so narrow that Gangwha is easily accesible from North Korea, and though the banks of Gangwha are lined with barbed wire (as are many coastlines and riverbeds in northern South Korea) and guarded by soldiers it is still a vulnerable spot. It was a harsh reminder that the beautiful, peacefull, free people of South Korea are (rightfully) always on guard.

We left the island and had lun with Rev. Lee's mother and the mother of a Korean classmate of mine at MTSO. It is a small world! Over lunch we discussed our trepidation regarding the homestay that was to come upon our return to Bupyeong Methodist Church.

South Korea 9

2009-06-07T03:23:00.000-04:00

June 5

I was not upset to leave Seoul. While I enjoyed my time there, it was too busy for me. The population of Seoul is so large, and there are always tons of people out and about. While I consider myself an extrovert, my limits were tested. When I would get back to my room at the ened of the day I would hardly speak to my roommate.

We were picked up by the Pastor of Mission and Music of Bupyeong Methodist Church and an intern pastor (Rev. Peter Lee and James Kim, respectively). Our first stop was to the foreign missionaries cemetery. There were so many people buried there from Ohio. One was born in Latty! The grave that stuck out to me most was the one that read, "The man who loved Korea more than Koreans did." Learning more about Korea, I find it amazing that 120 years ago missionaries started coming here and now the Korean church is sending out so many missionaries to other countries. The reason that the U.S. missionaries (not just U.S. I suppose, but all of them) wanted to be buried here was so that they could continue to pray for Korea. I wonder what they would think of the church now. Only 120 years has passed since the first missionary to Korea and now the number of Christians nearly matches that of religions as old as 4,000 years.

After leaving the cemetery we moved on to the museum of Korean Christianity. The only real thoughts I have are how much it reminded me of the Living Bible Museum in Mansfield, Ohio and how disturbed I was by the center of the museum. It requires a bit of explantion... There is a hollow column in the center of the museum that you can see into from each floor. From ther ground level you look up into the column. The floor beneath you is an animation of fire. Looking upwards you see a few figures and a cross, but you cannot see what the scene holds. From the second floor you can see a figure (someone young and modern) reaching out towards the cross which is still one floor above you. Finally, reaching the third floor, you see the entire picture. The people (three of them) seem to be soaring up towards the cross, away from the flames below them. It was a strange display, but it made much more sense knowing that the museum was funded and is mantained by a full gospel church.

We then moved on to Bupyeong Methodist Church. On the way, Rev. Lee told us that our accomodations would be a bit less than a hotel. We didn't think much of it. Though the drive between the museum and the church was short, i still managed to doze off. I woke up to Rev. Lee saying, "Don't worry about your bags. We will take care of them." As I stepped off of the bus, I was handed a rose and greeted by a line of people smiling, waving, and saying hello. What an amazing greeting.

I was (and still am) amazed by the scale of this church. At first I was apprehensive. All of my feelings about mega-churches immediately appeared.

We dropped off our things in our rooms. Only then did we realize that Rev. Lee was kidding. The floors are headed (as if we would need it), there is high speed internet in each room, coffee is free (as much as you can drink), electricity conversion is provided, and everything else is merely a phone call away. For our enjoyment there is a rooftop rose garden. It was created simply for the enjoyment of guests.

We learned on the tour of the church that the reason they have the facilities for guest is because of a vision had by a church member. This person person saw a ministry that teaches leadership and evangelism while folks learn about Korean Christianity and hospitality. The vision is now a reality.

On the tour and hearing Senior pastor Hong Eun-Pa speak about his church, all I can thinka bout is vision. Not only was vision at the center of the building the church (like the vision of yellow stone that was imported from Egypt), but the central vision of honest evangelism is at the center of this church now.

South Korea 8

2009-06-07T03:17:00.000-04:00

(still June 4, evening)

As we walked into the theatre, we walked through a protest. The protest was strange because it was so divided. About a week before our arrival the former South Korean president killed himself. Some feel that it was purely suicide while others believe he was pushed towards the action by political pressure because of the current conflict between North and South Korea. It brings me back to a conversation that a classmate and I had on the bus. Michelle (our DMZ tourguide) made it seem as though almost all South Korean people want to reunite with North Korea, but we don't see how that can ever happen. This protest made us see that the view of North Korea held by South Koreans is much more comlicated, far from black and white.

We kept walking and reached the theatre. After a heavy day, a visit to the theatre was the prefect ending. We watched "Miso."

Just a note about the subway... I would like to know what the media here is telling people about H1N1 (or "swine flu") because each time we step into an enclosed space (subway, elevator, etc.) with folks, they immediately cover their faces and try to share as little air as possible with us...

South Korea 7

2009-06-07T03:06:00.000-04:00

(still June 4)

... I have never felt the way I did in Panmunjom before...

There are so many thoughts and feelings and sites and sounds to capture that I don't even know where to start. Being in a room where North and South Korea have met is intimidating. We saw the line down the middle of the table marking the MDL (Military Demarcation Line, or, THE BORDER) and realized as we gathered around that table that we were, by all literal and legal standards, in communist North Korea.

After that we moved to an observation area where the North Korean main building was fully visible (along with the guard on the front steps). We were free to take pictures there, and I (like every other tourist) took advantage. As I zoomed in, however, I saw that the North Korean guard had grabbed his binoculars and was glaring at me. The tour guide assured us that this is quite normal, but it took every ounce of my strength to force each small breath out of my chest.

As we continued from site to site we were accompanied by a U.S. soldier (in my journal I named him, but I will leave him unnamed here). I was raised in a family that thanked soldiers and I never knew how I felt about the practice. Just the presence of this soldier put me at ease. As Michelle told us that the other side of the Bridge of No Return held heavily armed North Korean soldiers, I was thankful for that U.S. soldier and I thanked him with each thanks that I had not uttered before to a soldier. The Bridge was the place that once held P.o.W.s from both North and South Korea who were being returned. As they stood on the bridge, they were given the chance to choose the side they would like to return to but warned that once they chose they could never go back.

Above all of these feelings, though, I was just kept breathless (and not in the good way) knowing that mere feet from where I stood were landmines. The frail North Korean dictator was no longer a frail old man who suffered a stroke in my mind but a man who brainwashes and manipulates children in North Korea to learn about his childhood before they learn basic hygiene. In school, the math lessons that North Korean children read are on paper so cheap that most children don't learn basic addition because of the faded figures and torn pages but can cleary read the quotes of their "father," the dictator, on high quality and expensive paper. The portrait of this leader painted in my mind by the U.S. media was replaced by the image held by many South Korean people; a man who separated families and cultures and strikes fear into the hearts of many...

... many more emotions cannot be written. The only thing I though on the bus going back to Seoul was how glad I was to be driving south instead of north.

South Korea 6

2009-06-07T03:04:00.001-04:00

June 4

It is strange to hear a South Korean citizen say, "Technically we are still at war." Michelle (her Christian name) uttered that phrase on the way to Mt. Odu Unification Observatory. So far today has been just strange emotionally... to want to learn about this conflict but to be so intimidated by the agenda of the day. We will see what Panmunjom holds...

South Korea 5

2009-06-07T02:54:00.001-04:00

June 3

What a long day today was!! Starting out at Dunkin Donuts I realized just how strange it must be to be a resident of Seoul going about your daily life and run into 11 Americans who don't really understand the public transportation.

The common theme of today was getting recognized for being different. I have never really been in that situation. While we visited the King's Palace (NAME GOES HERE), the elementary students were eager to try their English out on us. It was generally fun. They would yell "WHERE ARE YOU FROM?!"

The sensory experiences I have had today are noteworthy. I have enjoyed the smell of incense from the Buddhist temple and the first bite of kimchi. Everyone says that it is an acquired taste. I will be the judge of that...

I can't keep my eyes open anymore and will go to bed... Here are other things we experienced today.

- Korean Methodist University

- McDonald's

- Tea House

- Shopping/dinner

South Korea 4

2009-06-07T02:47:00.001-04:00

June 2, 10:30 pm

After getting through customs and exchanging some money (dollars to won), we called a cab and got on our way into Seoul. I was amazed at how much English I saw written on signs and buildings. As we rode in silence a bit in the cab, we were cautious about trying out the little Korean we knew. Our cabdrive was brave and broke the silence. It was not much, but it was enough to put us each at ease.

It is odd to drive into a city at night. you cannot see any landscape (which was hard for me, knowing we were on a bridge but not seeing the water), and when the city lights hit you all at once, you cannot do anything but stare out the window with your mouth hanging open. I really am a small town girl...

We finally reached the Centennial Center and it was quiet, which is all this weary traveler needed. I just don't know if I can get used to this whole bathroom slippers thing.

South Korea 3

2009-06-07T02:45:00.002-04:00

June 2 (somewhere around 3pm)

Landed in Tokyo! I am mostly excited about being able to check another continent off of my list. Other than that, it is hard to gauge anything about Japan other than how lovely our terminal is. On to Seoul!!

South Korea 2

2009-06-07T02:45:00.001-04:00

still June 1

We are flying somehwere over the Bering Sea. Collectively, we tried to figure out what time it is in Ohio and also in Seoul. It is a strange feeling, knowingthat time (for all intensive purposes) does not exist. Also, as a few of us grow restless on the flight, we talk about how this is all about control. It is hard to let go of control when it is so freely given (or taken) in everyday life. I am guessing this is the first of many times I will have to learn this (not only on this trip).

South Korea 1

2009-06-07T02:39:00.000-04:00

I wish that I could figure out how to back-date posts, but since I can't, I am taking the chance to blog what I have already journaled.

June 1

Dr. Kim is late to school for our grand departure. I think it is a reminder to me that I am not in charge on this trip. I am trying to remind myseld of this. Once we got to Chicago and I turned off my blackberry, I started to process that this trip is real and that I am, despite all trepidation, looking forward to this experience.

Why are you here?

2009-04-28T20:29:00.000-04:00

When I was younger (and for you folks older than me on here, you can just live with my use of that phrase) I cared a lot about success. I had chosen the United Methodist Church for my route to success. I moved up through the system networking and going to planning committee meetings so that I could say that I was at the XYZ meeting with XYZ person. All the while I did feel that I was living God's call for my life, but caring more about how many names I could drop or how many pieces of legislation I could work on. Even in beginning stages of my call process I just wanted to be one step ahead of my peers, just to say that I was. There was no better reason than moving up.

Recently (as my husband can attest) I have grown weary in the politics of this church, not because of the work that they require, but because I feel like I am now growing out of that phase of knowing more people and serving on more committees that are higher up. Often I go home from meetings/gatherings feeling as though it is a one upping competition between the attendees. I believe this comes from me finally realizing that my calling is genuine, and that the only thing I need to be focused on is living God's call in my life as fully as possible. It is not how many committes I serve on or how many people I know or how soon I will get ordained... none of that matters. I have felt this way for a long time, but struggled to verbalize it.

Then I go to chapel this afternoon. It was my friend's senior chapel service, and I was very much looking forward to it. She then put words to those feelings I had been having. She said, "You are not here [seminary] to be effective and successful. You are here to be faithful to God's word." That is it. The only thing I need to be worried about in my life is being faithful to God's word in my life, and helping others to be faithful to their calling in whatever capacity that may be. I am not here to be effective and successful.

I AM NOT HERE TO BE EFFECTIVE AND SUCCESSFUL.

I am here for the sole purpose of living the calling of God in my life. What a great source of strength and encouragement for the end of this school year.

Fuck It All

2009-04-22T12:41:00.000-04:00

I'll admit it. I judge people by what they read, and secretly, I hope that they judge me too. You see, I enjoy eating out, going for coffe, going to movies, shopping, etc. alone (most of the time). When I walk into a restaraunt or coffee shop, I always scope out the other loners, focusing mainly on what they are reading. I don't pay much attention to people with computers because it drives me nuts when someone cranes their neck over to see what I'm doing on my computer, so I don't even bother looking at computer screens of others. I do, however, candidly peer at what the people holding printed material are choosing to read. If it's a paper, I look to see which one. Reading the New York Times? The Other Paper? Generally I am pleased with people reading newspapers, as I value that print medium. If that person is reading a magazine, I start to get curious. Good Housekeeping? I wonder what your garden looks like. Cosmo? I wonder if you have a boyfriend/girlfriend and what they are like. Vogue? I wonder if you love Sex and the City as much as I do. But books... oh books... I love being nosy and looking at what kind of books people read. If it is a self-help book I want to know your life story. If it is a finance book I wonder what you do for a living (don't ask me why... that's just what I think). If it is a classic novel, I wonder if you are reading it for the first time or for the seventh. My favorite is people who read books about spirituality. My mind just reels with questions about that person. Very seldomly do I say anything to the people reading the books, because when I finally get settled in with a good cup of coffee and I book, I don't like to be disturbed. Today, however, I broke my rule.

I walked into Chipotle (go figure...) and picked a seat in the sun, at a table for two. I much prefer the barstools, but I couldn't find one in the sun, and recently I have just had this craving for natural light. So I sat down, glanced over, and saw the book Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott face down on the table next to me. The book did not have an owner, and I gazed around the restaraunt to find someone who looked like they could be reading this book. After a few minutes, a woman sat down in front of the book, picked it up, and read for a moment. Very shortly after taking up the book, she chuckled. Catching herself laughing out loud, she looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Seeing that I had, she turned red and apologized. I told her that it was quite alright, and that when I read anything by Anne Lamott I laugh hysterically, despite my location. After exchanging pleasantries about how much we enjoyed Annie's writings. She asked if I would like to join her. Normally I would decline, but I couldn't resist talking to her about my favorite author.

We sat and chatted, and I recommended that she read Grace (Eventually) because she had already read Traveling Mercies. We talked about how much we both enjoyed Traveling Mercies. She asked me the context in which I had read the book. I told her that the first time I read it, I read it just because I wanted to, and I have read it many times since. Mentioning that I read it for class, she asked if everyone I read it with enjoyed it. I told her mostly, but some people didn't appreciate her language and her humor. She said, "Yeah, my friends, too..." and then she thought for a moment and said, "I really like the way Anne writes. Her faith is real, and it makes me feel as though my faith is more real than my stuffy Christian friends." I must have had an interesting look on my face, because she continued, "I mean, sometimes don't you just want to throw up your hands and say, 'Fuck it all!'?"

I chuckled and said that more often than not, that is what I want to say. She said something to the extent that she can't handle people who have faith that is happy all of the time. She likes knowing that sometimes faith confuses people, and they feel hurt, betrayed, or left alone by God. She appreciated Anne's candid struggles, especially around raising her own son, Sam. It was only then that she asked me what class I read the book for. When I told her that it was for my spirituality class, she said, "Oh, so you're in seminary?" I told her yes. She said, "Is it weird that I don't care that I said 'fuck' in a conversation with you?" That is what really got me thinking.

That is the kind of pastor I want to be. The kind that can be trusted to hear genuine struggle, not caring if someone says, "Fuck." I want to be the person who can be honest in not only hearing, but in conversation. And do I say, "Fuck?" Yes, sometimes I do.

Don't get your hopes up

2009-04-15T06:48:00.000-04:00

It is a phrase that we often hear. We audition for something? "Don't get your hopes up." We go to a job interview? "Don't get your hopes up." We turn in a paper? "Don't get your hopes up."

Hope has been on my mind a lot recently. I am waiting to hear about a new life opportunity, and the word hope has been flying around our house a lot. My husband will say, "Maybe you'll hear something today." To which I reply, "Meh, I'm just trying not to get my hopes up."

But then I went to class yesterday. The members of this class were reflecting on their theological experiences during this past season of lent and holy week. A good friend of mine brought up how much she enjoyed a sermon from a friend who said that the tomb was not empty. The tomb was full of hope. I didn't really give it a second thought until I was laying, awake, in bed revisiting the issue.

I think, in general, hope is something to be avoided. If a person has a sense of hope, and whatever was being hoped for is not fulfilled, the person experiences something similar to loss. So should we really deny ourselves the experience of hope just to avoid the possibility of experiencing loss? That's the real question that has been on my mind.

What I know is that for my soul... my spirit... I cannot function without hope. I have hope that there is something beyond this life, with all its hopes and losses, and that something is worth the wait. I have this hope that comes from the tomb that is empty, yet full.

embarrassment

2009-04-06T20:58:00.000-04:00

I generally try to steer clear of the idea that we see Jesus in other people. While I don't see this notion as harmful or incorrect, it just weirds me out a little. What I have experienced in the last few days, however, is a characteristic of God demonstrated in the fabulous man that is my husband.

The last few days have been really embarrassing for me in my marriage. Some of the details are too personal to share, but let's just explore these last two days in a way that will not mortify me even more. Like I have mentioned before on my blog, I am still in what some would call the "newlywed" stage. We have proudly survived nine months of marriage, but there are things that we have never experienced of one another. Little quirks are constantly being revealed, and sometimes, those newly revealed things are not always so cute. For example, Garrett is learning what it is like to live with a woman who has a curly head of hair. The shower drain in constantly covered with the hair that I (almost) always forget to pick out. All of the *cute* little habits have been discovered, and the ones left to discover are not always fun.

So Garrett and I were driving tonight, and something just didn't "settle" right with my stomach (if you know what I mean). So as I tried very politely to tell Garrett to step on it so we could get home, the speed limit and slow people searching for house numbers prevented the arrival at home from occuring as quickly as I would have preferred. It sucks to be sitting next to the person you love most, with a growling and unpleasant stomach situation, and feeling embarrassed. This is just one example of my embarrassement... you don't need to hear any more...

But yesterday, as I am crying on the shoulder of my husband because I am so embarrassed, he said something profound to me. "Something like this is not going to make me stop loving you." I am astounded by the things about me that he endures. What a hero. And I have been reflecting a lot on what this tells me about God's love...

I have always known that God would love me through any crap that I could do. I could make bad choices, and God would love me anyway. I guess what I haven't always internalized is the fact that God loves me in spite of my embarrassing things. Even the things that my husband misses out on because they are that embarrassing, God knows, and loves me in spite of. God knows and loves all of us. Every part of us. Every embarrassing or selfish or hidden part of us, God knows and loves us. God has to. It is part of the job description.

God is love.

STRESS!!!

2009-03-31T12:17:00.000-04:00

When my mother died, I was a sophomore at Ohio Northern University. This loss was obviously the hardest thing I had ever dealt with. I spent a week at home for planning the funeral, the visitation, etc. My mother's internment was on a Sunday afternoon. That same Sunday evening I came back to school to go to work that night and start classes the next day.

At the same time I was dealing with this, one of my friends was dealing with the divorce of her parents. I don't know the details of her family situation, but she left school for the entire semester to deal with the loss of her sense of family. Even long after I had been back at school, she stayed home, dealing with her loss. At the time, I thought that she was being childish and overdramatic about her family's situation, and thought that she should come back to school. She did, but it didn't work out for her. She ended up leaving school for good.

I have learned a lot since then, and what I have learned (and I would argue that this is the most important lesson for any person to learn) is that pain is a personal experience. No one person's pain can be compared to that of another person. Pain, grief, stress, and all of our other emotions are a personal experience. Even two people experiencing the same loss feel the pain in different ways.

What brought this all to front was the time of the semester it is in seminary. It is the time of the semester when we are all stressed about homework, anxious about not only the upcoming break, but also our plans for the summer and next school year, but it also seems that most people have a life situation or two (or three...) piled on top of that. What commonly happens, is that one person starts sharing about how they are stressed are, genuinely hoping for some support from the people that are in similar situations, and the person listening tries to one-up them. It happens a bit like this...

"Man, I'm just so tired.... I haven't been sleeping well, and I have two papers and a presentation to do before the end of the week..."

"Oh, that's terrible... but I've got three papers and a DCoM meeting this week, and I'm preaching on Sunday."

While both people are looking for support (and often, affirmation) the conversation turns from support to a contest over who busier, more over-committed, stressed.

If we can't even provide care for our friends who are stressed over schoolwork because we are trying to one-up them, how are we ever going to care for someone in situations where their entire life is literally falling apart. Are we going to say, "Sorry, you're parents are getting divorced and your sense of family is shattered, but my mom just died... I came back to school, and so should you." While that sentence seems unruly, I actually considered uttering in my lifetime.

This is all a lesson in pastoral care, but more importantly, it is a lesson in Christian love. Christian love is not one-upping someone, but putting your own stress, grief, turmoil aside so that you can love someone in the midst of their own context.

This is a lesson I am still working on learning, but I hope that I can start being an example of this so that others can experience that love, and eventually provide that kind of love for someone else.

Ritual

2009-03-23T06:53:00.000-04:00

I wrote this as a paper for a class with the best professor ever. He suggested that I publish this, but I was too shy. The blog will have to suffice, knowing that it is now on the web... it is a bit intimidating, I won't lie...

Most of the time, it is a ritual that creates or strengthens the bond between two people. For me and her, it is the bond between the two people that started our ritual. It is the kind of bond that you would never understand unless you have one of your own. The bond created by loss is a bond unlike any other. For us the loss is not shared. While I loved her mother and she loved mine (probably more than either of us know), it is the loss of our own mothers that created this ritual.

Her mother died first. At that time, she dealt with issues that I never dreamed I would deal with a few years later. So when my mother died, I found the greatest solace in her. She would tell me the answers that the others were too polite to tell. She and I are both incredibly strong (after all, the loss of a mother will make anyone strong) and the way we escaped the pity stares and the “dead-mom” whispers was to talk with each other. We talked about how we missed our mothers, how we sometimes didn’t understand our widowed fathers, how our brothers coping methods were different than ours and anything else under the sun.

One reoccurring theme was the feeling of injustices that were done to us as a result of losing a mother. They started out lighthearted like, “Injustice: I will never have someone to make my gynecologist appointments for me.” Sometimes they were shared face to face, sometimes over instant messenger, but mostly they occurred via text message. Sometimes they were about church, sometimes about teaching, sometimes about loneliness, but they were always about two things: injustice and mothers.

Our mothers were the same type of women. Both teachers, they touched the lives of the community like very few teachers can. When her mother died, students grieved hard together. I know this, because I was one of them. When my mother died, the town shut down. The teachers meetings were cancelled along with a basketball game and every church activity that happened regularly. Students and church members alike grieved together. She knows this because she was one of them. At the core of our ritual, it is not a teacher, a church member, or a volunteer the two of us grieved for. We grieved for our mothers.

The greatest force keeping our ritual going is the fact that grief is continual. Unless you have had an experience like ours, you wouldn’t know anything about grief but what the textbooks tell you. What we know is that grief is continual. It does not ever go away, though some seem to think it does. Our ritual is a way of dealing with our continual grief. Sometimes our sharing of injustices is still humorous, but most of the time they come when our hearts are so lonely that it just feels reassuring to know that someone reads it.

“Injustice: my mother will not be able to proofread any papers for me.”

Theological Circles

2009-03-17T20:53:00.000-04:00

One of the most “controversial” prayers I have ever heard was a prayer that went something like this: “Loving Mother God, Help us to be impregnated by your Holy Spirit so that we may give birth to your word in the midst of this world that we are living. Amen.” Alright, so it was a bit more articulate than that, but that’s what it was, more or less. It made me a little uncomfortable at the time, but I went with it. Since then I have heard God called many things. I pride myself on surrounding myself with people that have different views of God than me.

Today, I’m sitting in my Doctrine of the Trinity class, and we’re talking about the interchangeability of gender language in regard to the part of the Trinity traditionally called “Father.” I am just going to allow my fingers to flow, not caring about articulation, and document my train of thought.

First, we should not use gendered language when talking about God. This is because we don’t know anything about God, and therefore any attempt we make to ascribe something to God is going to fall short. This is especially true for masculine language for two reasons: 1. Using masculine language ascribes masculinity to God, and we don’t know the gender of God (or if God even has a gender) and 2. Using masculine language perpetuates the oppression of women that has so long been justified by the use of the term “Father.”

Well, then I was thinking. If we can’t (because of reason 2 listed above) call God “Father,” then we can call God “Mother.” But, hold up. We can’t do this because of reason 1 listed above. The question posed to us was, “If you were baptizing a baby, what term would you use.” _____, Son, Holy Spirit. Hm… what would I use? Ah Ha! Creator! I triumphantly raise my hand to share my answer. The professor then says, “But, if you limit God to ‘Creator’ then you are taking away many important qualities of God.” So when you start trying to use terms that don’t demean God, it confuses the congregation who (on the whole) doesn’t give a rip about theology like you do.

So great… here I am… So I can’t call God “Father” or “Mother” or anything else for that matter. So what do you call God? We start discussing a school of thought that says that all language for God is metaphorical anyway, so we can call God whatever. The thought behind this is that because we can’t know anything about God, any attempt is as good as any other, because no attempt is going to do any justice. So now we’re back to square one. Using the term “Father” is just as good as any other.

No matter what word I choose to use (be it "Father" or "Mother" or "Parent" or "Friend"), that word is going to represent a broken relationship in someone's life. All people can hurt people, and using relational terminology to speak about God is no good, just like anything else. Hm...

Sheesh… I’m running in circles here, knowing that eventually I am going to have to arrive at a conclusion and defend that conclusion in front of a Board of Ordained Ministry. What a day…

Out of all of this, I have discovered that I really do like theology. I love working through these issues. I love "Rational wrestling with mystery" (Thanks, Barth, for that). I love it. I am doing the right thing with my life.

22 going on 23

2009-03-11T10:28:00.000-04:00

Each Valentine's day, my mother would buy me and my brother a small gift. Usually it was a toy or trinket or something of the like. As a child, I always loved to read. I always checked out my limit of 4 books at the library and returned and exchanged them as soon as possible. One Valentine's day, I walked down the stairs to see our gifts sitting on that white and yellow speckled kitchen counter. Brad's toy? A G.I. Joe. My gift was a book. A lowsy book. Now, why I thought my gift was lousy? I don't know... I loved to read and this was a perfectly appropriate gift for me. I put up a huge fuss!! My mother was so offended that she never got us a gift for Valentine's day (other than a sweet or two) after that. My mom always bought me the best gifts, and sent the most thoughtful lcards, and most of the time I never appreciated them.

Today, the day before my 23rd birthday, I am sitting in the Columbus airport, heading to Chicago. I am flying away from my family, and all but one of my best friends. Birthdays were always important to us Barrett's and I have chosen (though not quite so willingly) to spend this birthday away from the people that I most want to be with. I am going to a setting in which no one will know that it is my birthday. I am feeling apprehensive, and a bit lonely already, just sitting in the airport.

Who knows what tomorrow will bring... another year to my age? certainly. A bit of sadness that I won't ever get a card or gift from my mom? Most likely. Loneliness because I'm not spending my first birthday married with my husband? Yeah. Will I live through it all? Yes.

23, here I come...

Have you had your poem for the day?

2009-03-05T10:12:00.000-05:00

It happened every Friday. At first, I thought it was strange that a professor would take the time to read poetry to his students in an introduction to Christianity class. Some Fridays I wandered in to the classroom wondering what the poem would be, but most Fridays I dragged myself in and tried with everything I had to stay awake (many times I failed...). But I always knew that Fridays would start with a poem. By the end of the quarter, I looked forward to those first few moments of class to just sit back and enjoy a poem. Some of the poems were about God, but most weren't. Those who knew Wayne knew his love for seeing God in creation, so many poems were about the creation which most of the college students tended to ignore. The poems also showed Wayne's incredible amount of love for his lovely wife, Fern. Many poems were spent read with Wayne trying to conceal a grin that the thought of his wife always gave him.

As more of my friends took the class, got to know Wayne-o, or both, we all looked forward to the occasions that he would read poetry. Many other classes that occurred in the chapel were put on hold on Friday mornings as the fans of Friday poems crowded into the classroom for the minutes that the poems were shared. Other professors may have been frustrated at the delay of the start of their class, but sometimes they joined us in listening to the Friday poem.

Wayne became a role model to many in my circle of friends. For the guys who got to know Wayne through Sigma Theta Epsilon, he was a brother. To those whom he advised, he was a mentor. To those who ever shared a meal or conversation with, he was a friend. To those who attended his church, he was a minister. For many, he was all of these things and more. One unique role he and his wife shared was a model for a healthy marriage. Wayne and Fern were so in love with one another, and it permeated all aspects of their lives.

When it came time for my husband and I to get married, I knew that this man had to be a part of our day. I asked him very simply to bless the meal at our reception, but what he chose blessed us so much more. Very true to Wayne's character, he read a poem as a blessing of our marriage. I could hardly contain my emotions. I didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or do both at the same time. It was the perfect addition to an exciting day. The day came and went, as did the night, and my new husband and I sat opening presents with our families. We came to a small gift, and immediately I knew it was a book. We opened the gift and it was Garrison Keillor's Good Poems. It had to be from the Wayne and Fern. I opened the book, and there was Wayne's familiar handwriting... it suggested a poem to start with and a poem to end with. I wished at that moment that I could just cuddle up in the new quilt (from Garrett's great-aunt) with my new husband and read poems. Arriving at our honeymoon destination, we had an evening to relax and just be. I took Good Poems out of my carry-on bag and shared page 173 with my husband. I don't even know if he remembers... but it was a time I treasured. We (my husband and I) are at a point where we are seeking more connection with each other. The honeymoon (and the 7-ish months following it) is over and we're settling in to life with one another. The thing is that neither of us want to "settle in." We are both seeking way to allow our love to grow and evolve each new day.

A few days ago, I was having a conversation with a friend of mine, and he asked me how I was. I told him that I felt my life was too shallow. I didn't know that I would be faced with that feeling again less than a week after our conversation. I woke up this morning, and just feel the urge to be more primitive. I had no desire at all to watch the morning news or turn on my computer. Even looking at the clock made me feel too technological. I knew that I need some time with poetry to settle my mind and my soul. I lounged for a bit (with a big glass of milk... my new favorite morning beverage to savor) with Good Poems and just took in the words. Poem after poem I read and with each stanza I felt a little more peace within me.

I knew this was a small part of a solution to our marriage desires. We want to grow closer and to find ways to recreate that honeymoon moment and just "be." We hope to now share poetry together, each Friday morning, like all the Friday's mornings previous.

blog fluff

2009-01-26T21:40:00.000-05:00

1. I am very self-conscious about my hands. The reason I paint my nails dark most of the time is that it makes me feel as though my hands look more slender and feminine.

2. I feel less intelligent than my husband because he can sit and watch the history channel for hours and it bores me to sleep in a matter of minutes.

3. I have a knack for catching people picking their noses. Be on guard when you think no one is looking!!!

4. I don't believe in horoscopes and signs and all that jazz EXCEPT for the fact that pisces have a thing for feet. For me, I like to have things between my toes... especially when I sleep. I usually have the blanket between my big and second toes.

5. I don't like to say that my mom "passed on" or "when to be with Jesus" or any of those other phrases. She's dead. The word "dead" is not offensive for me to hear or say. It's honest, which is how she taught me to live.

6. I frequently cut/save coupons, but never remember to take them to the store with me.

7. My favorite TV show is Sex and the City. One of my pet peeves is when people call it Sex in the City.

8. When I have cravings, they are either for banana Laffy Taffy or dill pickles (especially Nathan's Pickles).

9. I have not regretted gauging my ears once since I've done it. People keep telling me that I will, but I don't think I ever will.

10. I keep a shot glass in my bathroom. I use it to take my evening vitamins/supplements.

11. I used to know exactly what I would save if I could only save one thing in the event of a fire. It was my stuffed Simba. I'm no longer sure what I would grab.

12. My favorite cartoon is Rocko's Modern Life. It's next on my DVD buying list.

13. Anytime I chop an onion, I think about the way my hands smelled on overnights at Camp Jewell after chopping onions for hobo dinners.

14. I detest cheese-its, goldfish, and any other cheese-like snacks.

15. My favorite lotion is country apple from bath and body works. It's quite hard to come by, so I am quite stingy with the one bottle I have left.

16. When on the treadmill, I can only walk/run in time with the music I am listening to. I have a playlist specifically for the treadmill. Because of this quirk, I choose to exercise on the elliptical.

17. I am not ashamed to say that I love Barry Manilow. I have even attended a concert and have a t-shirt to prove it. That night was quite possibly one of the most magical nights of my life.

18. My favorite flower is the iris.

19. If I had to lose one of my senses, sight would be the last one I would choose. I would rather read than do anything else.

20. My favorite pizza topping is black olive. I don't get to share pizza very often, and I am o.k. with that.

21. My grandmother lived in a town called "Grover Hill." My brother and I always called it Grover Bump because it was so small. En route to "Grover Bump" I could not tell you one of the road names, but I have the route memorized via landmarks.

22. I LOVE going to the dentist.

23. I really miss the bright blue shag carpet of my childhood bedroom. Many nights I would fall asleep on the floor instead of in bed because I liked to read laying on the floor.

24. While on the subject of my childhood bedroom... I lived in a very old house that didn't have heat upstairs. We just hate grates! I had a grate in my bedroom, and when punished, I would lay on top of the grate and cry as loud as I could to torture my parents for punishing me.

25. I never knew where my birthmark was until my 18th birthday when my tattoo artist told me that he thought it was cute.

more than I can chew

2009-01-22T22:21:00.001-05:00

It seems to be the common theme of the week... people are worn out, run down, stressed out, and generally crazy. And when I say people, I mean seminarians. It's not even the end of a term. I mean, J-term is wrapping up, but most students I know didn't take J-term.

For me, however, I have recently been struggling with balance. It's not that I'm not getting all of my school work done, because I am, but I am just still learning how to be a wife, a student, a youth pastor, hold down a retail job and practice good self care all at the same time. Self care does not just mean physical health, but also emotional and spiritual well-being. I have just been failing.

I have done such a good job recently at taking care of myself physically and keeping up with my school work. But other things have suffered. My spiritual discipline has gotten thrown at the window (except for those rare David Crowder Band meets treadmill moments) and I have been emotionally nuts, therefore doing a bit less than succeeding in the wife department.

But J-term is over (as soon as I submit my paper) and I am starting a new semester. A semester in which I can balance things better because I am going into it with intentionality. I know now that it takes much more effort to succeed in all aspects of life. And even if I don't succeed (which I probably won't...) I have the most wonderful support system of a husband who will love me if I'm neurotic, sleep deprived, hormonal or any combination of the three.

Masters

2009-01-21T16:30:00.000-05:00

So you've graduated from college, great! Now what?!

Well, for me, the obvious choice was to start seminary. I have gone into seminary stressing that I am working on a masters degree. I know that I am preparing for ministry, but I get really irritated when people forget that I am, indeed, working on a masters degree.

I have to admit though, I've been struggling. I have been talking to a good friend of mine who is also working on her masters. She started at the same time I am, and is taking fewer classes at a time than I am, yet she will graduate almost two full years before me. The same will go for my husband if he chooses a masters program. I know that I am working on a degree that entails the care of persons' souls, but why should my degree take so long?

The practical answer, I have found, is that for most masters you are required to have a related undergraduate degree, and that is not the case for most seminaries. I am just having a hard time because my undergraduate degree was related, and most of these classes are repetitive for me (so far).

I don't know where this post was really going, but it is something that I struggling with at this point in time.

Zumba

2009-01-20T19:54:00.000-05:00

well, we have a new president. I think I'm going to be the only blogger that doesn't write about that tonight.

Tuesday nights are zumba nights for me. If you've never witnessed zumba, it is quite the spectacle. There are plenty of videos on youtube. Check it out. Our instructor is the typical aerobics instructor: cute, skinny, ripped. She's wonderful. There are a lot of people in our class, so you never feel like you're the only one. The thing for me is, all the women my age are must more fit than I am. There are a few older women (in their 50's and 60's) that are my size. I go to zumba and feel like I am in terrible shape (which I am). I get far more red than everyone else, I drink a ton more water, and I sweat like a crazy person.

Then I go back to thinking about the Biggest Loser cardio workout that my friend bought me for Christmas. Bob, the trainer, tells you that he doesn't care whether or not you're doing exactly what he's saying, as long as you're moving. That is what keeps me going when my chippy little zumba instructor is thrusting and salsa-ing and everyone else looks far cuter than I do. I am moving. I am working. I am doing what my body needs. How many people are sitting at home on their butts when I am up and kicking my own butt at zumba.

Sure, I'm not the most fit person in the world, but I am on my way to that! I'm trying hard!! That's all that counts.

Keep moving.

Numbers

2009-01-15T14:27:00.000-05:00

Well, in the last two days, I've gotten two very important numbers. It reminded me of my adulthood. That makes me very uncomfortable. I got my credit score and my cholesterol score. I have found that most things in adult life are defined by one of these two numbers.

With my credit score, I wasn't suprised at all. I am (almost) 23 years old. I made bad choices in my younger adulthood. Nothing too drastic, but I definately didn't the best financial advice I have ever gotten (read: "Spend less than you make"). It never phased me in my earlier adulthood because I never pictured myself as the married type. But now that I have a husband, I have forced a lot of my debt upon him. I figure, "Hey, it comes with the territory, right?" But in all honesty, it pains me to know my poor financial choices have had an impact on someone else's financial life.

As for the cholestrol, WOW. I was floored. For my ordination process, I had to undergo a physical examination (must of which was quite against my will). I didn't expect to hear anything other than, "You're fat." That I can deal with. I deal with it every day when I look in the mirror. Now, don't get me wrong, I am not ok with my obesity (it's eye opening to use that word to describe yourself). I realize that I must take care of myself for my own health and wellness. My husband and I are working to make ourselves generally more healthy human beings. I went to the doctor, form in tow, and went through the exam. When I had my blood pressure taken, it was quite high. I wrote it off as seeing a new doctor and being extremely nervous. Then they ordered the required blood work. I came back to have my blood drawn, and the nurse took my blood pressure again. Again, it was high. Surely it is my medication. A possible side effect is high blood pressure. So I go back to the doctor a third time, and get my blood pressure taken a third time. It's still high. The nurse showed my to the exam room and I sit and wait for the doctor. He finally comes in and delivers the bad news. Not only is your blood pressure high, but I am concerned about your cholesterol...

I went home and cried. Yes, I know I'm overweight. But to know that I am now going to fight a health problem fought mostly men in their fifties. I am a 23 year old woman!! What the heck?! Things have got to change...

What this leads me to think is about how life just gets boiled down to number. Not just credit ratings and cholesterol, but salary and square footage and mileage. As we live, we work towards good numbers. But when we die, nobody stands in front of our coffin saying, "Gee, Ted really had a great credit rating." I don't know what all this thinking is doing for my thoughts other than realizing that the point of life is simply to not let life get boiled down to one thing, whatever that one thing is.

transplant

2008-10-29T09:41:00.000-04:00

I have officially moved my blog.

For years I kept my blog on xanga... in the recent months I found myself not blogging as much as I used to and I really think I missed out on a lot of great opportunities to blog because I simply didn't want to put it on xanga.

What I've found (like I'm sure most of you have) is that all of the blogs I've followed on xanga have stopped writing, and have taken their blogs elsewhere. The few blogs that I do follow there anymore have become petty "FIRST" wars that I don't appreciate.

Perhaps it is because I've moved into a more academic realm in my life, or maybe I'm just sick of posts with no depth, but I have officially transferred my blogging membership here.

I'm happy to join the ranks and put my blogging hat back on!