The Nose Knows

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...

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

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.

... 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

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

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

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.