The Unsettling Act of Settling

So the boxes, though still aplenty are slowly (emphasis on slowly) being emptied. My computer is finally out of a box and set up in a somewhat temporary situation, but set up none the less. I can’t say the same about the TV unfortunately. I’m really missing that. Harv’s first week has come and gone, and we have made it through 2 official Sundays. So far so good. This has been a month of many changes. Slowly (and again, emphasis on slowly) things are starting to feel a little familiar. Not so much with me as far as church and town goes – but as far as the house and where we are living. It is starting to feel a little more like home. I haven’t really done any decorating – so it actually feels like I am living in a really nice hotel that I quite like – but it doesn’t quite feel like “me”. Not yet anyway. I have however, taken to country living like a fish to water. It is quiet and peaceful and I can’t believe that I had my doubts.

I had some anxiety about “starting”. This month – though hectic beyond belief has been such a nice break. I have LOVED having Harv around, having no expectations, and not being “the Pastor’s wife”. I loved feeling like we had a choice about things -about our schedule, and who we spent time with, (or if we spent time with anyone!). I thought that after a month I would be ready to have Harv start. But I did not feel ready. And I felt quite frustrated with myself about how I was feeling. But I think it’s getting better. Or maybe I have just been distracted…

The pregnancy, which is moving right along now, has been taking up all my waking thoughts. Though I was progressing quite nicely (if I do say so myself) in Saskatchewan, it seems like it has all fallen apart with this move. OK – that sounds a little dramatic. But my blood pressure has gone up to concerning levels, and Dr’s started throwing around words like high risk and bed rest, and taking the baby out early. This was quite disconcerting for a first time prego like myself. I have now been referred to a specialist – who is apparently amazing with high risk deliveries. We now have to go into Winnipeg once a week, for monitoring and I will have to deliver in Winnipeg. I am ok with that – as long as Harv doesn’t have to deliver this baby in the back of our car on the way to Winnipeg. I have 7 weeks to go – so I am concentrating on getting lots of rest, and putting my feet up. This is not necessarily the easiest thing to do when one has just moved into a new house and all the nesting instincts are completely running amuck. Good thing we finally get our TV hooked up on Wednesday. Maybe I can keep my feet up while catching up on all the TV I have missed for the last month. Good times.

A Change in the Wind...

Not that we needed any more change, or that our life wasn’t already turned upside down by the ever growing presence of this baby, but…more change is coming.

Have I mentioned how I don’t like change?

On Sunday Harv announced his resignation to our church here in Yorkton. After 5 years, we felt like it was time to move on, and move home. Home being Manitoba. Home being where my family is. Home being where my heart and affections lie. It is amazing to me how such a decision can bring such joy and sorrow at the same time. It is like a painful tearing, but terribly exciting at the same time. I feel so much anxiety and yet, so much hope.

My sister told me how much she hates it when pastors say how “My time here was done.” or, "We took the church as far as we could." or “I felt God was moving us on.”…so I won't spiritualize this, and instead I will say…we have lived in Saskatchewan for 7 years, and we really want to live closer to our family. And I am tired of living so far from my best friends. And now we are moving. It’s been a long, looonnnnnng process, but God has opened a door for us in Gimli, Manitoba. So…if all goes according to plan, we will be home for Christmas. Home home. Back in Manitoba home. And it feels good.

What does not feel so good is telling the church. That was hard. What does not feel good, is the anxiousness of needing to sell our house, and finding a new one (please pray). There is A LOT to do and a lot to think about, and not a lot of extra energy to do it with.

Of coarse there is so much more I could say about this…but I will leave that for another time. I will not wrap this up all nicely as I normally would as a shout out to change. For my life seems to be surrounded by change. And you all know how I feel about change.

Yeah...What She Said

This week we were once again at the Nursing Home doing a hymn sing for the seniors. At the risk of totally mortifying my beloved Grandma I must confess…I hate mornings at the Nursing Home. I think I have said it before, but it is probably my worst part of church life. It’s not that I don’t like the seniors. I really do. I’m not sure what it is exactly. Maybe it is because I don’t enjoy hymns. Well…I do enjoy hymns. Maybe it is because I don’t enjoy so many hymns. We sing in 3 different wings, and I don’t enjoy singing hymns for over an hour. Hymn after hymn, verse after verse after verse in screeching high pitches is not my idea of a good time.

Tuesday morning I went with a particularly good attitude. *Sense the sarcasm here people. I was carrying on an inner dialogue of grumbling and kvetching, all the while belting out never ending stanzas of Blessed Assurance and My Hope is Built. No, it was not my finest hour. All of a sudden, in the midst of my brooding and watch glancing there was this absolute holler... “GET ME OUT OF HERE!!” I slapped my hand over my mouth in horror. Did I say that out loud? How could I do that? What would Grandma think?

But no, it wasn’t me. It was my soul sister senior in the front row, who apparently wanted to be there as much as I did. Sigh. I can’t wait until I am a senior and can say what I am thinking as loudly as I want and no one even bats an eye. Well, no one except for me, who was holding back laughter, and fighting back the urge to high five her in front of the whole room.

For some reason I went to the next wing with a self satisfied skip in my step. Somehow I was feeling a little lighter. Like my words had been spoken, and I didn't even get in trouble with the pastor.

Oh Stress, Thy Name is Church Potluck

Have I ever told you my feelings on the church potluck? I’m sure I have. I hate them. Seriously. I am using the word hate here, to describe church potlucks. It’s not the visiting and the fellowship. I’m all about that. It’s not even the 20 variations of the same ground beef casserole. That particular aspect I find rather intriguing. It’s all the stress. It’s getting the food to the table. It’s bringing it all together. It’s the working with that blasted pot I find rather un-lucky. I can’t take it. I'm quitting.

I don’t know how to master the art of getting the aforementioned ground beef casserole to the church for the precise time, at the precise temperature, with the precise level of doneness – not frozen in the middle and not dry and crispy. I JUST CAN’T DO IT!!! Do I leave my casserole at home and come back to get it during the few seconds between the last amen of the service and the first amen of the blessing? Do I bring it to church and risk it being moved to the top of the crowded oven, leaving it undercooked? Do I rise early and bake it before church and just keep it warm for the hours I am at church? With all the greeting and Sunday schooling and worship servicing, that’s a lot of time in the oven. Should I bake it tonight and then just reheat it in the church microwave in the morning? Aaahhhh. Too many questions. This should not be this hard. I must be the only woman in the world that finds this stressful, or CERTAINLY some forthright wife would have spoken up and had these potlucks banned years ago. Or at least suggested that Boston Pizza be stirring the pots for us while we are sitting in the service. But apparently that is not happening, and so I sit here stirring up my own pot of inner stress.

That’s it. I’m calling my mother.

We now Interrupt our Regular Un-Scheduled Programming

I feel happy. It was a good night, and I just wanted to write a quick post and say exactly that. We had our first official small group meeting tonight. I guess I wouldn’t really call it a meeting...it was more of a gathering than a meeting. And there was food involved. Good food. I made spaghetti – A LOT of spaghetti. I have issues when it comes to making the proper amount of spaghetti. But that isn’t new to you is it?

So the small group thing…I feel happy. And I feel relieved that I feel happy. When Harv told me this summer that we were starting up small groups in the fall for those interested, I felt a bit nervous. I have commitment issues. That is, I have some hesitations to commit to anything on a regular basis…such as a weekly Bible study, or weekly…whatever. It just makes me nervous. I feel like we are busy enough as it is, and so I don’t like to cement too many things in as “regulars” in the schedule. I mean I do have my regular date with Grey’s Anatomy and the weekly drumstick addiction. And then of coarse there is my weekly Weight Watchers meeting to try and combat the nasty side effects of this aforementioned addiction. But other than that, the weeks just fill up naturally.

But I was feeling a stirring in me with this small group thing. And so I took the risk, and joined. Well, I didn’t really join…I actually consented to lead it in partnership with Hubby. And so tonight was our first meeting. I was hoping that the risk would pay off. I was hoping that this would be a positive thing for me. I was giving myself pep-talks all afternoon about being myself, and being real and not letting the politician in me rear her ugly head (or rather – lovely, and charming life-of-the-conversation fake head).

And so, it was a good night. And there was the beginning of group bonding. And there was talk of fun and learning, and relationship, and events involving chocolate. And I felt at ease. And I felt like me. And I felt hope for good things to come. I have something officially cemented in as a regular in my schedule. And it’s a good thing. And it was a good night. And I feel happy.

A Little Mush and Gush for My Pastor

I am taking my pastor out for supper tonight. Just him and me. I am giving him a whole lot of lovin' and I am encouraging you to do the same. OK...before I get you all ex-communicated, let's clarify... by lovin', I am meaning appreciation.

October is Pastor Appreciation month. Did you all know that? We can thank Hallmark for coming up with yet another great reason to celebrate various people in our lives. I don't know if I ever really noticed Pastor's appreciation month when I was growing up. But that was then, and this is now, and now is a whole new ballgame. I see things very differently now. Now that I am actually married to my pastor, I have a whole new appreciation for this Hallmark event. And so tonight I am celebrating my great pastor.

Let me tell you about my pastor...I have a wonderful pastor. He is kind and compassionate. He is a great listener, and is never in a hurry. He puts a lot of time into preparing for Sunday morning, and he is genuinely concerned for the spiritual well being of his congregation. He is a man of integrity. He keeps his word. He keeps his appointments. He also makes me laugh. He is quirky, and fun, and he always laughs at people's jokes. He has a great way of making people feel good about themselves...and feel loved. And so I want to say to my pastor...my love, you are doing a great job. I know you have been discouraged lately, but I am so proud of you, and I know you will keep pressing on. Thank you for all you do for my church and for me as a member. Oh, and on top of all that, I think you are adorable, and you look great in a tie. I love you!!

Now go forth people, and do the same. Smother your pastors with appreciation. Trust me, they need it...they really do. Oh, but maybe cool it down a notch of all the mushy love stuff. I don't want you to get yourself in trouble. I just can't help it. He brings it out in me...

The Sweet Taste of Friendship

Tonight we are going out for dessert with a couple that has just started coming to our church. And though I always really enjoy getting to know the new people that come (and lets face it, I love dessert) part of me wishes that I was able to fast forward this evening. I wish that I could fast forward friendship. I would like to skip ahead down the road a year or so from now to a place of comfortableness. To a place where you know all the answers to those first shy “getting to know you” questions. I wish that we could already be in a place where we are at ease, and where you can spend time just chatting, or even pruning trees together (thank you Becky) and all is good, and there is no nervousness. No hesitation. If I think about my close friends, I can hardly remember a time where we didn’t know each other, and where we muddled through the first moments of awkwardness and potential conversation gaps. With so many it just seems like it has always been - like we've known each other all our lives.

I guess all relationships have to start in this place, and even my dearest friend Tia and I laugh about the silly thing she said to me when we first met. Every friendship has to start at the beginning, but if I was honest, I wish they wouldn’t. I wish we could skip this part. I wish all friends were “old friends”. I know I am not the only one that feels this way. But I also know there are those that feel differently. My dad loves meeting new people, and making connections. There are those that enjoy the thrill of newness in a friendship. But it just makes me nervous. I am great with first impressions. I can be charming like the best of them when we first meet. It is the first coffee’s that I have trouble with. The first conversations that last more than 5 minutes where I wonder what to say, and wonder if they will like me, or think I am not as charming as my first impression hinted at.

There is something so great about knowing each other. There is such a feeling of peace that comes from being known, and being accepted. To be able to so freely be yourself and enjoy who you are being. I wish that I could be that way even with strangers.

But I will go tonight. And it will be great. And the dessert will be awesome. And I will try not to be nervous, or feel like I have to fill in every single conversation gap. Because if there is one thing I have learned from years of having friends, is that it is all worth it. Because so often, the first awkward coffee date can give way to closer friendship down the road. The beginnings of tentative conversation can lead to deeper talks that make all this effort worth the while. And so many of you who have blessed me with your friendship, have shown me that when we push through, it is SO worth it in the end.

That's Me...What's Going on with YOU?

So I have been a little neglectful over here as of late. Becky (cybernetics genius) signed me up on Facebook, and I have been over there trying to figure it all out. It's all a little confusing, and I am not sure I quite understand the whole point yet. And then there is the horrible flashbacks of high school as I see that my friend Monica has 155 friends, and I only have 6. Hmmm. Last one picked on the team again I see. sigh. If anyone is a member, let me know...I could use a few more people in my corner.

So other than that new techno addition (or should I say addiction?), things have been a little busy over here. This weekend is our church family camping weekend. Harv and I have been dreaming about this since we first started here, and it is finally happening. We have a GREAT turnout, and I think it's going to be FABULOUS. I just hope everything all comes together. There is still lots to prepare and think about. Harv has been having these little pep talks with me about just relaxing and that I am "not responsible for the good time of everyone at the camp". But yet I think I am. It's a sickness. I'm working on it.

We had a 3 hour worship practice tonight, and there is food prep to do, and schedules to print off and details to iron out, and special numbers to practice, and so on and so forth. But it is all very exciting, so it makes the work fun. Oh, and we have our nursing home program tomorrow morning, and I have a chiropractor appoint on Wednesday, and two coffee dates, and it goes on and on...

On top of that I am helping out with this drama production of Steel Magnolias. I have been going when I can over the last several months to sit in and be the prompter and make phone sounds and gunshot noises when needed. The show is this weekend, and dress rehearsals start tomorrow night. I was given the title of "Stage Manager", but unfortunately since I will only get to help with one show (because of our retreat) I think I have been "de-titled". But it has been a neat thing to be a part of and I have met some VERY talented ladies, who are extraordinary actresses.

So, if I am a little silent, it's because it's a crazy week. Lots going on over here! Pray for us if you think about it.

Making My Dreams a Reality

Last night we had our first planning meeting for our church camp retreat, happening in June. Hammering out some of the details just got me so excited. I am hoping this will be a time of bonding and renewal for the church. I have been dreaming of doing this since we started here, and after 4 years of talking about it, it will finally happen. I can’t think of a better way for a church family to really get to know each other.

This retreat makes me think of the church retreat that I was a part of with my Winnipeg church years ago. It was an excellent time of fellowship. Unfortunately for me, the one that I really wanted to fellowship with had just broken up with me a month earlier. And yet, in all the heartache, there I was, still leading worship with this guitar playing blond drink-of-water who could warm me down to my toes with just a certain smile. Yes, it was a gut-wrenching weekend. But that was only because we were fooling ourselves to think that we could live without each other. Good thing we rectified the situation the following summer with the wedding of the century.

Anyway…but I digress.

The retreat is happening, and that feels good. It feels good when things happen. One thing that I have learned about myself since being here in Yorkton is that I am a great visionary. I have ideas and dreams flowing forth like milk and honey in the Promised Land. The thing that I don’t have is follow-through. I am a little weak in the implementation. This has gotten me in trouble more times than I care to count. Is it any wonder why I have a room full of hopes and dreams in the form of craft supplies, and few finished products? I have ideas, but I can’t seem to make them happen. This moment of self discovery and clarification has really been quite freeing. I do wish I would have learned this about myself years ago. It would have cut back on many moments of brow beating and inner berating. I also would have saved a bundle on “project supplies”. I am embracing my weaknesses. I have learned that I need a helping hand. I can dream, and in my delusional state, I can scurry around, trying to accomplish things all on my own, but in reality…I need others. I need a team. Enter Harv. Enter family. Enter church friends. Last night was so great. I was zinging out ideas like baseballs in the outfield. And along came the team to help with implementation. This is the beauty of working together. I am so thankful that God gives us people to fill each others gaps. When we work together, we accomplish so much more.

Now that I have come to terms with my shortcomings, I think that I need to add a housekeeper to the “life team”. Someone who could come and implement some floor washing and laundry folding perhaps?

Best Little Non-Coffee Shop in Town

For someone who hates coffee, I certainly “go for coffee” a lot in this town. Being the pastor’s wife, it seems that there is never a shortage of people who are ready and willing (and some expecting) to “do coffee” with me. On a regular basis I find myself, bottled water in hand, staring across from someone drinking deeply from the amber brew. After almost 4 years of coffee dates, I am getting to know the establishments of this town.

I know that the Ice Cream Cabin is a well known coffee stop. It has great lunches. You can get a healthy pita for only $4.00. The food is excellent, but the space is cramped, and if you are lucky enough to get a seat, it is hard and uncomfortable for any extended visiting. You can also expect that because of the size of the "cabin" the entire population of the room will be in on any conversation you have whether you would like to include them or not.

I know that the local Tim Horton’s serves great coffee (the best in town some say…I wouldn’t know), and the Tim Bits are yummy, but it is crowded - always crowded, and the many seniors that frequent the establishment seem to have a staring problem that makes me a little uncomfortable. It is probably my least favorite place to meet for coffee dates.

Robin’s is better. It’s a little quieter for in-depth conversation, and they serve great hot chocolate. But the seats are hard, and the last time I was there I nearly froze to death.

Boston Pizza is by far my favorite. The booths are cozy and comfortable for extended time periods. I have had my best conversations there hands down. In the afternoons it is slow and quiet. The relaxed atmosphere and bottomless drinks are great for lulling people into a comfortable state of “baring all inner thoughts and percolations”. Add the Chocolate Explosion, and it's the perfect coffee date for a non-coffee-er such as myself.

But last week I discovered the most wondrous establishment of them all. It is Yorkton’s best kept secret: an unexpected place of cozy contentment…right in my very own home. I served a church friend hot chocolate steaming in my new winter mugs, and we settled into our comfy couches and talked and shared to our heart's content. The temperature was perfect. No seniors were staring. No bystanders were getting the goods on my personal life. Best of all, there was no bill to pay at the end of the conversation. The hours flew by. It was great. “Chez Shirley” is a definite repeat and open for business, so come on down and let’s “do coffee” sometime!

Officially Deciding to Not Freak Out.

This morning I was officially voted in as an Elder/Deacon of our church. I have been involved in this particular role for about 3 years now, but more in an assumed “wife of the pastor” sort of capacity. Now I am official. Very official. And now I am officially full of nervous self doubt. It’s all just crazy. I have always done visitations with Harv, and I have always attended the meetings and I have always been concerned with the spiritual direction of our church. Nothing is changing. But now it’s official. And there is something about that official-ness that is scaring the crap right out of me. (OOhhhhh…am I allowed to say crap? I’m an Elder now. But I’ve always been an Elder. See…I’m all flustered and all freakin’ out.)

Someone came up to me after the meeting and congratulated me on my new role (that is when the icy fingers of freak out started to grab my neck and squeeze). I thought… “New role? I have been in this role for 3 years…does new role mean new responsibilities that I am not aware of? Does this involve more expectations on me?” (the icy freak out fingers started to squeeze tighter). Then she asked if I was intending to continue on in my role as pastor’s wife, or if I was just going to be an Elder. Confusion befell me. What does that mean? I thought to myself… "Well…I am not intending to divorce Harv, so I guess I will stay as his wife. And seeing as how he is the pastor, I guess that would make me the pastor’s wife. Does that mean I am now the Pastors wife, the Elders wife AND an Elder?” (the icy freak out fingers fell to the floor in a curled up fetal position, rocking gently…back and forth, back and forth.)

Ah yes, roles and expectations…what a tangled web they weave. I could write quite an engaging post on this very subject, using my vast experience in the world of serving up unmet expectations with a smile and a shrug. Will we never learn? Isn't this precisely what gets us in the most trouble in our relationships - assuming our own expectations on others? But for some reason as I have been writing this I have become eerily calm about the whole thing. Maybe I am finally learning, that yes - expectations are out there - especially in ministry, but that is exactly what they are...expectations. They are not demands, they are not by-laws, they are not legally binding rules of engagement. They are simply other people's thoughts placed on us, and we can choose what we want to do with them. And at this moment, I am choosing to do...nothing. Right now, at this moment I am not going to be the Pastor’s wife, or the Elder’s wife, or the Elder. I’ve got to go wake up my hubby from his peaceful afternoon slumber. So at this moment I am going to be the role that I love the best…Harv’s wife. Pure and simple. No confusion or expectations here.

(icy freak out fingers give a great big thumbs up)

Polishing the Shine on the Blushing Bride

I once heard a story about a pastor going through some ministry struggles. He was asked the question, “How do you feel about the church?” Without even hesitating he answered, “She’s the Bride of Christ. I love her.” Never had I felt such a strong mixture of inspiration, shame, awe, rebuke, motivation, and regret. I feel like I need to talk about that today – especially after my last post. What a great way to view the church, as a dearly loved, unique, bride of Christ. It makes me think of a glowing bride – with all the excitement, the emotions, the mood swings, the bliss, the anxiety…all the feelings and characteristics that come out in a bride before her big day. I think it is easy for those who work in the church to get somewhat of a jaded view. We deal with so many things – from those servants who long to give of themselves, to those who daily practice the gift of discouragement – leaving a trail of wounded in their wake. There are some that are so easy to love, and some that only a mother could love (and where is that mother now?). I have never really thought of the church as a whole – as a unit. I think about different individuals, but not the whole. There is something pretty comforting, and forgiving when you look at the church as a whole. If I look at the different personality types, and think of them in terms of a bride before her big day – I feel more peace. There are people who make me laugh and who I love to be around, sort of like the joyful bride when she gets a first glimpse of that great bouquet. Then there are those that are grumblers, and you feel like you can do nothing right – like the bride who realizes that the caterers are serving fish sticks instead of the chicken that she ordered – stressful. When you look at them individually, church work can be discouraging. But when you look at them together, they almost bring out a balance. It makes the church easier to appreciate as a unique, multifaceted bride, with different strengths and weaknesses – all making up that great whole. I would really like to start thinking of the church as a whole, as a unique bride of Christ with different personalities and characteristics. I think that would help me. I think that I will still want to scream when so-and-so gives me grief because my Christmas cards aren’t spiritual enough, but I think that I will have a better attitude about the church as a whole. Because she is after all the Bride of Christ, and I love her.

Sneakin' my Love Under the Wire.

October is (or has been) Pastor Appreciation month. That Hallmark - you can always count on them to give us another occasion to celebrate the ones we love. In honor of this occasion I am writing to express my appreciation for my pastor (and maybe remind you to sneak a little love to your own pastor before it hits midnight!). Let me tell you folks...I appreciate my pastor. And it's more than appreciation...it's down right love. I confess...I am in love with my pastor. I guess I should clarify for those of you who may not know...I happen to be married to him, so it's all ok. I am the only woman in the church who can fool around with the pastor without it leading to ex-communication. But that's another subject for another time.

Today I would like to share with you:

REASONS WHY I LOVE MY PASTOR...

1. He gives great pastoral visitations. I am number one on his visitation list. I know pastors are not supposed to play favorites, but I get the first visitation of the morning and the very last one at night. And if needed, I am guaranteed frequent hospital visitations. If I am ever in the hospital...I know that he will be the first one on the scene, and there will most likely be flowers.

2. His sermon illustrations are very relevant to my life. For some reason it's almost like he is actually speaking about my own life experiences! It all seems very familiar somehow. lol

3. He can pray like the best of them! Ever since we entered into Seminary He has been asked to pray for every meal, reunion, gathering, get together, barn raising, bar mitzvah...you name it. And still every night, without even being asked, he ends our day together with me in prayer.

4. He is a man of integrity. He is the same man "off duty" as he is on. Even on his days off, he is still just as kind and gentle and loving to me as he is to his congregation though the week.

5. He is concerned for my spiritual well-being. He encourages me in my walk with the Lord - not just from the pulpit, but from his example and with his words to me.

6. Well, he is just so cute. And he looks SMASHING in a tie.

Love you Honey...you're doing great and I am so proud of you!!

On Life, Goodbyes, and New Beginnings...

I really have nothing to say today, so I think that I will say what I wanted to say 2 weeks ago, but didn’t have the time to say it. (Isn’t that how it goes…I am full of ideas when I have no time to write, but now…nothing. Blank.) But first a picture...
A couple of weeks ago some very special youth in my life took that final walk – the pathway between childhood and adulthood – graduation. For them, it was saying goodbye to high school, and in a sense to childhood. It was goodbye to the routine that they have known for the past 12 years. There was excitement and celebration, and Harv and I were invited along for the good times. For me, the goodbyes were harder to say, because although I am thrilled for them, and excited to see them pack up and start on their own journey, I am left with somewhat of a nostalgic hole. These girls have been a huge part of my life here, and a huge part of the role I play in the church, and so I can’t help but feel a little…lost…wondering what I will do. But I tried not to wallow in that too much, because after all, it was their day. This life event has set my thoughts percolating...

First of all – I couldn’t help but watch these girls with a twinge of wistfulness, and dare I admit to envy? There they were at the starting gate – with their whole lives ahead of them. They could be any thing that they want to be…walk down any path of their choosing. There were no thoughts of “Oh I could never do that” or, “It’s too late for that choice.” No thoughts of being too old, or too twisted by the hard knocks of life. All I saw on their faces was anticipation and hope. Sort of like when you are waiting for the jet to take off…the bags are packed, and there is hope and anticipation for the journey, but you haven’t quite taken off yet. These looks of hopeful joy, of “the world is my oyster”, lead me to my next thought…

WASN’T IT JUST ME? Wasn’t it just yesterday that I was walking down that graduation aisle, saying my goodbyes to childhood? Where the heck did the last 16 years go? And how did they go so fast? And how do I feel about the choices and direction that I chose? When I was graduating, did I hope in my heart of hearts that this was the direction my life would take? For some things yes, and some things definitely no. I don’t know that I ever aspired to have a 10 year career in retail, or be 33 with no kids, or to live far away from all friends and family or to struggle daily with my crazy bungee-cord-like emotions. But I did hope to be in church work of some form and I did wish to marry a prince charming, and those things have definitely happened. I know that I always thought that I was meant to do something special and profound…and I really don’t feel that this has happened yet. But how much of this has to do with the choices that I made after graduation, and how much does life just take over and happen? And what about God’s plan in it all? So how much choice do these graduates actually have? OOhhhhh – my thoughts are just swirling away.

Last but not least…can we get back to “graduation day” – back to that place where we feel like we could do anything, and take any path? Is it possible to switch current paths and forge ahead on new ones? I heard a saying the other day that I haven’t heard in years “Today is the first day of the rest of your life”. My mom used to say that to me all the time growing up. And I honestly believed it then, as a teenager. Do I believe it now - now that I am having an early mid life crisis? Is it possible 16 years after graduation to once again cross that threshold of choice and possibility? Those days when you had the world on a string - sitting on a rainbow. Maybe it is. One thing for sure, I know that even if I could go back, I can’t get back that wide-eyed-innocent, “life is going to be anything I want it to be” look that the graduates had. I know now that things do not always turn out as I would have liked. But even with that said, there is a new hope in knowing that my life is not quite over yet, and hopefully on the time scale of my life I am closer to walking the graduation march than to the march towards the bright light and the world beyond.

Well I am not sure where I am even going with this, and I know I would never post it, if I had to figure it all out first. So I will leave you to ponder on this with me for a while. And in the meantime, life continues to roll on by. And before I know it I will be 32 years down the road from graduation, and I wonder where we will all be then? For some reason I have this urge to sing that song…”the road is long…with many a winding turn…”

Holy Quarter Cow Batman!

The other day one of our church couples called and asked us if we had any room in our freezer, because they wanted to give us a gift of some beef. They are beef farmers, and I guess it was time to kill the fatted calf so to speak. We accepted with great joy and thanksgiving. Sometimes us pastor type folks are so blessed. Today they arrived with FOUR boxes of beef. A quarter of a cow. A QUARTER COW PEOPLE!!! Do you know how much beef that is? I sure did not. And I sure was not prepared for how much space a quarter cow takes up in an apartment sized deep freezer. But I’ll tell you, creatively squeezing in meat is a very nice problem to have!! We now have ground beef, and T-bones and ground beef, and sirloin steaks, and ground beef and roasts and soup bones, and did I mention ground beef? Our freezer is packed to the brim, all of the freezer burnt buns have been tossed, and I guess we will be having roast chicken in the next day or two, because that big beast of a bird is now defrosting in the fridge by default.

Now if we could just get the back yard to melt. I am itching for BBQ season to start. You are all invited!! We will smile over sirloins, and talk over T-bones. How many hamburger patties do you think that I could form with 50+ lbs of ground beef? Um...you'd better bring a friend!! Can't wait!

(You’ll just have to bring the buns. Mine are now feeding birds somewhere in the back alley.)

Colourful Reminders of Days Gone By...

Tomorrow one of my youth girls is coming over to show me her new tattoo. This is the same wonderful youth that cured me of my nail biting with her engaging tale of parasite worms forming in the stomach and having to crawl their way out of the throat to be released. She’s pretty colourful on her own, without the help of a tattoo artist. I have been practicing my supportive, so-happy-for-you look all day. Words like “Oh wow” and “well look at that…it’s a tattoo!” have been swirling around in my brain. Don’t I sound like a supportive youth leader? Well, truth be told, I tried all I could to talk her out of it. I gave her all the “for the rest of your life” speeches, and scared her with vivid word pictures of what her tattoo would look like to the aides in the nursing home 60 years from now. But she was not dissuaded. I know we all make choices, and we all have things that we think are “so cool”. I guess I am just glad that the “cool things” of my youth are not permanently attached to my body to carry around with me for years to come. I am so glad that I have been able to leave the jelly shoes, tye-dyed t-shirts, and Farrah Fawcett hair “feathering” behind for only the old photographs to reveal to the world. Can you imagine if you were forced to have the same hairstyle for 60 years, just because there was one point in your life that you thought it was cool and everyone was doing it? Just something to think about…

To Visit or Not to Visit. Therein lies the Question.

Man whom I love has made plans tonight with church member. He and said member will join for a tarriance in the local eatery. This engagement over the amber brew leaves one wife to ponder... Do I extend comparable invitation to wife of said church member? Or do I linger in close proximity to the fires of my domicile and entrench myself in the latest craze known as American Idol?

Singing the Potluck Blues

Today we had a potluck lunch after church. This is not an uncommon occurrence in our church. I have always looked forward to this church event with great joy. But today I once again entered into the chambers of self reflection and ascertainment, and came forth with a startling discovery. I really don’t like potlucks. I am ready to put the church potluck craze to rest. Yes, I am aware of all the benefits of fellowship, community, and a smorgasbord of food choices that will make even the pickiest of eaters hurry to the front of the line. I do like the visiting. I am all about the camaraderie. But for me potlucks have changed, and I know what did it. It is called womanhood. I have left behind the footloose and fancy free days of youth where I could come unencumbered by pots and dishes and feast to my hearts content, knowing that the upper echelon of church womanhood would be prepared to feed all who come calling. Life was so simple then, those carefree days of youth. But somehow, when I wasn’t even aware that it was happening, I have joined the ranks of church womanhood, and it is I that is expected to lend my domestic aide for all the others who come with anticipation for the feast. And I now know this…

It’s not easy!! I don’t like it!

Don’t get me wrong, I can cook like the rest of them. Well, that is not true, but I can cook enough to fake it. But this is complicated people! It is not easy trying to come up with a dish that you can prepare the night before, and then to try and somehow coordinate it with the Sunday morning church schedule and the limitations of one oven between a multitude of casserole dishes. Once, when we were living in the church suite I put in a casserole and left it to bake for the desired two hours. I came home after church only to find that a few had come and borrowed my oven, and my casserole had been moved to the highest rack, and the temp turned down 100 degrees. I served a frozen casserole that morning. That was my first experience, and it hasn’t gotten much better. I should have known.

I just find it so stressful. Do I use a slow cooker? Do I cook the casserole the night before? Do I make a plate of cold cuts, and asparagus, only to have the youth turn up their nose in disdain? I have tried casseroles, I have tried pizza. Today I tried meatballs. Once I even tried to sneak in a jar of pickles as my food contribution. I was promptly rebuked by the upper upper echelon of church womanhood. The upper crust snooty womanhood.

So now, I am throwing down the gauntlet. I am calling for help here people. Help me before I throw in the potluck towel forever. I need to know a stress free, strain free, easy to cook, easy to have prepared on time, easy to keep warm but not overcooked, crowd pleaser. Please send me your suggestions. Seeing that our life revolves around the church, I know that I am going to attend a trillion potlucks in my future. Someone out there must have the answer to my potluck problems. This is my official plea for a renewal for potluck passion.

I know you won’t let me down.

The Fellowship of the Deep Dish

The house is quiet once again. It’s like the calm after the storm. The living room is put back in order, and the warm memories of laughter and time well spent have settled in my heart. This feeling is surpassed only by the dead tiredness that has settled in my bones. We had our youth group over for a U-Make-Pizza /Fun night. We had a great turn out and I think a good time was had by all. I spent the day cleaning the house, planning games, getting pizza stuff ready – chopping, slicing, dicing. We turned our kitchen into a regular pizzeria. One of the youth showed up an hour early. So I put him to work grating cheese. I don’t think he has ever seen so much cheese.

The pizza making was not my most shining hour. But it is amazing when youth get together, how even burnt pizza can be fun. The crust I made was pretty thin. For the sake of clarification I might add, it wasn’t a thin crust pizza recipe. I just rolled it thin because I had already quadrupled my ingredients and I didn’t want to make more! So I rationed. I quite literally stretched that dough to make it work. That in itself is not a problem; the problem comes when you have an excited group of teenagers with no parents in a 5 mile radius, and a buffet of pizza toppings to their disposal. In the spirit of adventure and youthfulness, they topped those pizzas to kingdom come. These were mile high pizzas. Mother’s Deep Dish Pizza has nothing on us. One group even did their own version of the stuffed crust pizza. Sounds good? In theory it was. In reality…well, have you ever tried to cook multiple pizzas in the oven on multiple racks, with extremely thin crusts and extremely thick toppings? Not the greatest product I must say. But they ate it anyways, and everyone had fun – because they were together.

Now that’s what I call fellowship. It’s all about the fellowship. The spirit of fellowship comes in and dazzles us all. It turns a meal into memories, and talking into laughter. It embraces everyone from anchovy lovers to the cook who burns the pizza. And it is good.

And so another day is done.

STOP THE BUS; I'M TAKING A CAB...

Big hot date for Harv and I Monday night…TV trays and election results. Whewweee we are one exciting couple! Hot Stuff. I made a lovely supper for the occasion. A Chinese concoction of sorts including Pineapple chicken and mini egg rolls. We even splurged and used not two, not three, but FOUR chicken breasts. THAT NEVER HAPPENS. That’s like 3 times more than we would normally use. And it wasn’t even our anniversary.

It was a good night. There was some yelling at the TV at first, but in the end I was pretty happy with the results. Maybe I am more of a political spirit than I thought I was. Or maybe there was just some deep resonation with the political leaders. I listened to their speeches and have been pondering over a great revelation since then. I have said right from the get go – “I would never want to be a politician” – but as I have been watching the campaigns unfold – I have come to the uncomfortable realization that all of us pastor type folk are indeed in somewhat of a political campaign ourselves.

Paul Martin stated in his speech that political life is taxing – it has its ups and downs. So true with a life in ministry as well. We feel the pull to be saying the “right things” and doing what we “should” be doing. There is the strain of a life on the “platform” – when for some reason people feel that it is their right and privilege to scrutinize and evaluate every aspect of your life as if you somehow belong to them. We get out there and schmooze in the crowds, somehow hoping to win the favour of the people. And when we fall behind in the polls in a “certain riding” we go out and shake hands and kiss babies and do what we can do to swing the popular vote. There are also the feelings of regret when you are unable to fulfill some of the promises enthusiastically proclaimed during the campaign – or candidating process. But how are you to know, as a young inexperienced, idealistic seminarian, excited about all that you think that you can do? How do you know, until you are actually elected what kind of opposition you will face, and what kind of strengths and weaknesses that you will bring to the table? Yes, it is a politician’s life – there is no doubt about it.

And though there are big smiles all around – I have to wonder – how do these men REALLY feel about the life they have chosen for themselves? The life that they feel called to. How do their wives feel? What are they really like behind closed doors, when they are in the safety and sanctity of their homes with their families? How do I really feel about it? I must admit that there is a strong inner pull to yell “stop the bus” - to jump off the political platform and throw the campaign to the wind. I long to not have to worry about saying the right things. I don’t want to be concerned with sending out the right message. And showing up at all the things that I “should” show up at. I just want to be me. To be authentically ME. To be recognized not as a politician – but as someone who is working out her salvation with fear and trembling just like the rest of the people. I want to be KNOWN for who I am, and not for what I can do. I feel called to this life. I am not wanting to leave it – but I would like to leave behind…the politics. I was not meant to be a politician. And I guess the journey that I am on is to figure out this: how do I be in a political arena, and not be a politician? How do I step off the platform? How can I be “OK” even when others are not voting in my direction? How can I get away from standing at the podium when all I want to do is stand shoulder to shoulder with the people - to together figure out this journey of life with all its ups and downs and twists and free falls?

Harv says that I don’t have to figure it all out now. And I know he’s right. I think that it’s enough that I am pondering and questioning and figuring. And one of these days I’ll get it. And maybe then you will see me hobnobbing with the other young politicians (pastor's wives) helping them make their campaign less of a campaign and more of a life. Now that’s a thought that gets my vote.