In My Ears

Okay, so I know the big toe has been up here for way too long...finally a new post!
I received an ipod nano for Christmas and have been discovering the world of itunes. I don't actually have much music on my ipod...I'm sure I'll get there eventually...for now, I am enjoying lectures and sermons. Here are a few things I subscribe to (all free)...

1. "Speaking of Faith" is a podcast from American Public Media. In each podcast a different person is interviewed on a certain faith related topic. I find these interviews so engaging--especially the variety of topics covered. I've listened to interviews with Martin Marty about the development of Evangelicalism in the US, Eli Weisel about faith and forgiveness, a scholar about the importance of creeds to our faith, a Christian politician about environmental issues, a person who had been a Muslim extremist, and the first woman to lead the Islamic Society of North America. What I appreciate is that these are intelligent, thoughtful people speaking about their experiences and expertise.

2. NPR...if you live in Canada and miss your NPR fix, itunes can hook you up! I subscribe to two podcasts from NPR: Books and Culture.

3. Various sermons...from 10th Avenue Alliance in Vancouver to the Meeting House to Mars Hill in Michigan.

4. Pray-As-You-Go: These are short, daily podcasts that combine scripture, music, and reflections to get you refocused. I know, it sounds cheesy. I was skeptical. But it's put out by the Jesuits...and I don't think "cheese" when I think Jesuit.

5. Various chapel talks and university lectures: These are from itunesu. Some universities get big names in to speak at chapel...and then put their sermons online. Some universities post special lecture series or even entire classes. I have downloaded classes on C.S. Lewis and the Pauline Epistles that I haven't had the chance to listen to yet.

6. National Geographic Videos: Okay, these are great. I learned, for example, that there are cows that look like body builders. It's the craziest thing--you've got to see these cows. National Geographic comes alive with these videos. Fun, short, and educational.

So...that's what's playing in my ears these days. I just wish I had more listening time.

It's Finally Here

The big toe has been glazed, fired, and brought home! So...now we have our very own big toe candy dish. I know, you're jealous.

Carpool

Here I sit at work...waiting for Jon to come pick me up. He's usually here by now. He's running late.

And it finally dawns on me...I drove today.

What A Wednesday

I woke up tired, had hardly slept. Pushed back the dreams that had taunted me all night. Faced the day. A memorial service I was leading. So many details to think through. So many words to carefully choose. It's noon. People packed in, the service began. Great stories were told. Laughter and tears mingled together. Two hours of sharing memories, expressing lament, professing hope.

Jon woke up tired, had hardly slept. Faced the day. It's noon. An intense job interview, asking hard questions. An hour and a half of questions. Afterwards, time of waiting...but not too long. And the job was offered.

Lunch was skipped by us both.

A celebration dinner. Butter chicken at a favorite Indian restaurant. A long talk about what the future might hold with this new job. A movie at home, snuggled on the couch.

Tired bodies to bed early.

And still I wake up tired today.

Returning Home

We just spent a week in California at a campus ministry conference and having a bit of a vacation. It was a great week of connecting with new friends and old.

In San Diego, we boarded the train for San Juan Capistrano...but not before we (apparently) put our future children's lives at risk. This is the sign that greets visitors to the train station:

After the conference, we went to the happiest place on earth for the first time in our lives. I got to meet the Mouse:

Then we headed to Santa Barbara to meet up with two old friends from two different eras of my life. And we stayed in an amazing bed and breakfast:

After a week of traveling, we headed home to snow (although the weather isn't too bad).

And we discovered shortly after arriving home that a student at my school had died that morning. So now I am planning a memorial service and trying to walk with a grieving community. It's in moments like these, when nothing makes sense and people are hurt and confused and clinging to each other, that I realize the profound purpose in what I do. I don't have many answers. And I've never planned a memorial service before. I don't have the skills or the wisdom of people who have been pastors for many years. I don't pretend to have the right words. But in the midst of my own inadequacy, I have a deep sense that I am where I am supposed to be. And that in my own brokenness, God will work through me.

And so this weekend will be spent planning a memorial service, writing a message for that service, and spending time with students. And with a very real awareness that I am deeply dependant on God for all what I am and all that I do.

Finding a Luck Finder

My friend Sarah (who I haven’t talked to in a couple of years—Sarah, where are you?) introduced me to the term “luck finder.” A luck finder is someone that people are lucky to find, someone that you really want to be with, someone that you feel blessed to know.

I used to express a similar idea by thinking of who I would most want to sit next to at a dinner party. I want to sit next to someone who is engaging and personal, funny and caring—someone who draws me in, someone who lets me share in who they are. This is different than just wanting to sit next to someone who might engage me in interesting dialog—that is good too, but not the same idea.

During my early years at Regent, my friends and I had a lexicon of different types of crushes. The surrogate crush. The professor crush. The hero crush. There were others, which I can’t remember. But the one I’ve absorbed into my vernacular is “the friend crush.” The friend crush occurs when you meet someone and you think, “I just really want to be friends with that person.” This is not some creepy romantic stalker thing. It’s seeing the beauty and depth in someone you don’t know well and wanting to be part of their life.

I met a luck finder the other day, someone I might just want to sit next to at a dinner party. And I think I’ve developed a friend crush.

Like A Radio

The first few notes wrap themselves around me like a familiar, well worn sweater, like a rich aroma that fills every pocket of air. The words come slowly, seductively, and I sigh. These lyrics, this music, touches a place in me that is filled with my deepest longings, my best hopes, and my fullest love. I find that as I listen, I am drawn both into myself and away from myself. Memories flood my mind: late night talks, long drives in the Kentucky hills and the Colorado Rockies, walking to school through the thick forests of the Endowment Lands in Vancouver, and friends--friends who have shared this music with me. And I find a renewed longing for deeper relationships, for meaningful conversation, for others for whom these songs resonate somewhere deep in their souls.
I'm going to go make a cup of hot tea and melt into the music of Over the Rhine.

Lament

Tonight in the theology of worship course, we talked about lament. A timely topic, considering that tomorrow begins the season of Lent.
As someone said tonight in class, lament doesn't sell. It doesn't make people feel good. It's not flashy or high tech. It's not exciting or upbeat.
But it's real. And honest. And intimate.

And it's something that is deeply lacking in many of our contemporary churches. We so often seem to be about the happy, feel good worship songs, and we miss the depth that many of the Psalms embody.

I've learned a few things about lament this year. These aren't my ideas, but things I've gained by reading a few different authors:

Lament makes our praise more genuine.
It helps us to love each other more deeply.
It validates and gives space for the human experience of pain.
It helps us to know God more deeply.

Lament begins with a personal invocation to God and it ends with an orientation to future praise, a vow to trust God.

As we enter Lent, I long for spaces where lament can be expressed in corporate worship. And I sometimes wonder if I am alone in this.

Cold

It was -28 C today...with the windchill it was -33 or something crazy like that. Did you know that when it gets that cold, your automatic garage door won't close? Which is too bad, because the time in life when you really don't want to have to get out of the car to close the garage door is when it's -28. Most of my friends and I are wearing long johns under our clothes. Jon wears long johns, pants, and then ski pants. It's ridiculously cold.

And when someone is mad at you, it feels even colder.

Big Toe

Last semester I began to make a life long dream a reality by taking a pottery course. This semester I signed up for another one and convinced Jon and our friend Lisa to take it with me. Last week the project was to make two small pots and put them together so that they became like an egg with the air trapped inside. From there, you could shape it into something. Many people in the class were making beautiful pieces of fruit. I was making a tea pot. And across the table from me was Jon who was making...what was he making, exactly? I asked him. And he declared, "Actually, this is a right big toe." He turned it around for me to see, and indeed, it was a toe. A big toe. A big toe with a hole under the toenail. A big toe with a hole under the toenail so that you can take a piece of candy. Because it's a candy dish. A big toe candy dish. Because, really, who wouldn't want to take a piece of candy out of something that resembles a toe?

Pics

So, I know these are old news now, but here are the projects I worked on during the Christmas break. I will write something more interesting soon!

Joy

So, I've been putting off updating this thing because I wanted to post a few pictures from Christmas...and I can't find the cables to connect the camera to the computer (that was a lot of "c" words). But if I wait any longer, Christmas will be too far gone to write about.

Here is what I did over Christmas break...

Read 1200 pages (give or take a few).

Knit 1 toque (or hat, if you're in the States).

Made 1 batch of buckeyes.

Ate 1 batch of buckeyes...and pretty much anything else that was nearby.

Made 4 cards.

Slept numerous more hours than usual.

Played 1 game of mini-stick floor hockey.

Spent lots of time with family and still didn't get my fill.

Two highlights...
Jon was playing with our nephews, running through the house. He stopped suddenly and our 3 year old nephew ran straight into him, his nose ramming into Jon's bum...and he got a bloody nose. Who else has a bum that's boney enough to give a poor little kid a bloody nose? It's like hitting a brick wall.

Second highlight...sitting in church the Sunday before Christmas, singing the usual Christmas songs. And all of the sudden the words of Joy to the World hit me, and I found myself choked up. "No more let sin or sorrow reign, nor thorns infest the ground. " What powerful words. What profound words. This is the Story we get to be part of. This is the vision we live in, the future we hope for. This is the longing of our hearts. And it is said in a Christmas song that most of us are so accustomed to singing that we fail to hear it. But singing that song this Christmas was a significant moment of worship for me.

Happy New Year.

Seven Things

My friend Annie recently listed seven things about herself on her blog, and encouraged her blogging friends to do the same. Here are my seven things...

1. I have a few strange eating habits that even I cannot explain: I cannot finish an apple unless it is sliced. If I bite into it whole, I’ll get a few bites in and lose interest. I cannot normally finish a coke if it’s in the can—it needs to be in a glass (not a plastic cup, but a glass).
2. If my life were a movie, I’d most want it to be a musical—where everyone would spontaneously break into the same song and choreographed movements. How fun would that be?
3. Mouth noises: I can’t stand them. I actively avoid people who eat with their mouths open or talk with food in their mouths.
4. My big fear is throwing up. Although Jon dying is a close second. Okay, I’d put Jon’s death in the number one spot, but throwing up is pretty high on my list of fears.
5. The act of peeling carrots makes me happy. There is just something satisfying about shedding the dirty top layer to reveal the bright, clean orange flesh of the carrot.
6. My dreams are significantly more exciting than my life…and I often wake in the night thinking that my dreams are real, convinced that there are mice crawling on the ceiling, an old lady standing at the foot of my bed, a stranger in bed beside me, or an army of snakes crawling on me.
7. One big thing I’d like to accomplish in my life: write a really good book.

These things always happen to me

So, it's Sunday morning. I had just finished preaching at a church where I have never been before. I stand at the back door, greeting church members as they exit. I smile as they say things like, "That was a very well organized sermon" or "That was lovely." Organized and lovely--what more could I hope for?

And then a woman asks if I could email her a copy of my sermon. Of course I could! I happen to have a piece of paper in my hand that would work perfectly for her to write her email address on. So, I hand her this envelope, and she says she'll just step to the side and write it down. Great. I thought the envelope would be perfect because it was an important envelope--it contained the check they had just given me for preaching--so I knew I wouldn't misplace her address. She stepped aside to write it down. I continued to greet people.

And I never saw her again. When people ask me to describe her, I can't remember a single detail.

Grandfather

It wasn’t what I was expecting to hear when I picked up the phone and heard my dad’s voice on the other end. It was Thanksgiving weekend, and my parents and brother and sister-in-law had been celebrating together. A few phone calls had already been exchanged between us, in Canada, and them, in Boston. I thought it a little odd that my dad was calling again so soon. And when he said the words “Grandfather passed away,” I registered it the way one might register news of a war starting in a country you’ve never heard of.

It wasn’t until the next day that I began to feel an enveloping sadness. It was less than five months ago that my grandmother died. It seems too soon for that same group of people to gather at the church again and express how sorry they are.

In the midst of sadness, though, I am glad for him. I am glad that he doesn't have to live in pain and confusion any more.

O Little Toyota

Our car is almost 10 years old. It's held up pretty well...other than a few dents here and there...and a large piece of plastic molding that detached from the inside that we screwed in after crazy glue didn't work...and a new battery here and there...for the most part though, for ten years old, it's in pretty good shape.

But last week it officially crossed over into "ghetto car". We had just arrived at the theatre to see Moving Out (the musical with Billy Joel's music). Jon went to open his door...and the handle broke off in his hand. So now we have to roll down the window on the driver's side and open the door from the outside in order to get out of the car.

First Communion

About a month ago, I led communion for the first time. My first living out of the sacrament part of being ordained as a minister of Word and sacrament. Other than forgetting a key part ("this is my body, which is for you"), it went well.

We had people come forward to receive communion, and I got to hold the elements, and, over and over, say the words "The body and blood of Christ, given for you." To look into the eyes of students and co-workers as they took communion, to hear in the background people singing "Eat This Bread," to offer these gifts to both friends and strangers...it was beautiful and profoundly moving.

I don't know if this goes away over time...if after years of being in ordained ministry, offering the gift of the sacrament of the Lord's Supper becomes less powerful. I hope not. I hope that I don't lose sight of the significance of those moments.

p.s. Does anyone other than Annie read this blog?

Four Little Letters

There are days and even seasons when most of life feels a little out of whack. When my very identity feels like it its being called into question. When those things I usually consider my strengths look like nothing but inadequate scraps being offered where others offer feasts.

Four little letters seek to define me. To explain who I am. To dictate how I must behave. In the past, I have been proud to be an INFJ. But in the space in which I find myself today, those letters feel stifling and undesirable. In the past, these four letters have been a helpful label—a way to explain myself. But today I find myself reacting harshly against the idea that someone can pretend to know me based on my personality type.

The letters seem too polarizing. As if I am only one or the other. I am either an N or an S, not both. And the tyrant of “if onlys” seems to be pounding on my door. If only you were an extrovert, you’d be better at this job. If only you had more “J,” you’d get more things done. I try to ignore them, but sometimes they shout, and I give into their luring lies. But, the truth is, I am a little of them all. I have a little E in this I body, and I have lots of P in between the lines of my J to do list. I am a both/and, not an either/or, kind of girl.

In the words of Over the Rhine, my favourite group, I am “bundles of contradictions, my heart full of loose connections…it’s always the same old question, who am I? and whose invention?”

I thought I’d have a better answer to the question of who I am by now. But I find I am still just trying to figure it out.

Clay Goats

Ever since I first watched the movie Ghost, I have wanted to learn to throw pots. Finally, my dream is becoming a reality. Two weeks ago I began a pottery class. For three hours once a week I get my hands dirty as I play with clay. The first class was all that I hoped it would be. There I sat with my very own block of clay, and I formed and shaped three bowls. I am an artist.
I went to the second class a few days ago. I got out one of my bowls to paint it...and it began to crumble apart in my hands. Hmmm. So I began to paint another bowl and soon realized that there are others in the class who seem to be able to make their bowls look like something you would want to buy....while mine looks like something only a mother could love. hmmm. We moved onto our new project--making slabs and forming them into cylinder shapes. The teacher made it look so easy. So, I did as she had shown us...only instead of becoming a flat square, my clay became a lumpy, cracked blob. Hmmm. I decided that it's in the second class that we begin to separate the proverbial sheep from the goats. I think I'm a goat.
But I still love those three hours of my week. Three hours where my only concern is the shape of my clay. Three hours where no one can call me. Three hours where, even as I try to create, I don't have to produce. There can be beauty in being a goat, even if I'd rather be a sheep.

Here Comes the Storm

The summer is officially over in my life. Students have begun coming back to school. There is no longer time at work to ponder what we might do in the fall...the fall is upon us. True, it's still August, but I'm already wearing jeans and jackets. Apparently Edmonton has never heard of an Indian Summer...wait, am I allowed to say that any more? Is it now called a Native American Summer? Anyway, the weather is getting cooler, the days are getting shorter, and, most significantly, the students are on their way.

I should be panicking. Two weeks ago I was. But right now, I'm feeling pretty calm. Maybe this is what drowning feels like?

A few days after my grandmother's funeral, Jon and I made our way to Colorado, carting our very own trip tick (as new members of CAA) and reading the last Harry Potter book. The road trip was fun, but not as fun as the three days we spent in Colorado for my ordination. I hope to post some pictures here soon...but, let's be honest, the storm is on its way, so when I say soon, I likely mean in about a month or two. The ordination service was amazing. And a bit surreal. Okay, a lot surreal. And it was a beautiful reunion of some wonderful friends.

And now we are back, heading full force into the fall.