Embrace the Mistakes

I did something I have never done before - and feel completely unqualified to do - but yet have wanted to try for years. My one week angel icon-painting class began at noon today. For the rest of the week the class will meet for roughly 13 hours/day at the Immanuel Icons Studio in the Highland Park neighborhood of Pittsburgh. Having arrived at 3 am this morning due to flight delay and bad weather, I was grateful for today's late start time.

The most helpful word of instruction that my esteemed teacher, Randi Sider-Rose, said was to celebrate and embrace the mistakes in our paintings even more than the successes because it is from mistakes that we learn the most: about such things as humility, grace, and correction.

I learned aLOT about humility today through my many mistakes! But I also feel free to make them, in order that I can keep learning. Otherwise, if we expected perfection of ourselves every time, how could we ever try something new? How could we learn? 

Speaking of figuring things out, as soon as I learn how to upload pictures onto the blog via my phone (without an Internet connection), I will share first glimpses of my first icon - very much a work in progress, just like me.

Here it is! This is actually taken at the end of Day 2. We have three days to go, so I expect the finished Raphael  angel to look quite different from the guy captured here. But he is well on his way! 

Hungry Feast

I appreciated the opportunity to worship at Immanuel Lutheran Church in Amherst, MA, today where my friend Steve Wilco is the pastor. It was clear how much thought and care went into planning worship and that it is a congregation that loves to sing with people accustomed to learning new material quickly. A classic piano duet - on two beautiful grand pianos - provided the music for prelude, offering, and postlude. Each Sunday during August - for the five "bread of life" Gospel readings - the congregation uses a different kind of bread from around the world for communion. Today was Scottish oatmeal bread - fortuitous for me. Music in the liturgy was also selected from around the world, including a Swahili alleluia and beautiful Chinese benediction. Attendees were invited to write down a hymn request and put it in a basket for a "hymn lotto" to be selected and used as the  sending hymn; it was a surprisingly easy and fun way to draw people in before the service even begins.

The assisting minister - a musician himself and leader of the worship ministry team - invited everyone to a worship forum during coffee hour. I would have gone if I did not have other plans, as I wanted to express my appreciation. Instead, I shared my impression with Steve on the way out and asked him to pass that on.

It was a replenishing experience to stand with hands extended at the table of Jesus, receiving the bread broken for me and wine poured for me! And yet, as with all true experiences of worship on this side of heaven and as was preached eloquently by Steve, it left me hungering for more! More of Jesus in my life, more of God's kingdom upending the world, more peace, more resources to be shared among us so no one hungers again.

Sabbatical Begins

After a year of preparation, I am now officially on sabbatical-leave which involves three months dedicated to spiritual renewal and replenishment.  The first day could not have been any more full of stuff I love.  Granted, it was a Saturday -- and I don't usually work on Saturdays other than to finish sermon preparation; but there was a different feeling about this Saturday knowing it was the beginning of something GREAT.

I went for a jog in the morning, and spent the bulk of the day with my friend Rafi -- enjoying a delicious brunch at Green Bean in Northhampton, MA followed by a trip to South Deerfield where I finally experienced Magic Wings butterfly conservatory.  See pics below!  We took Jack for a hike at one of his favorite spots: Mt. Tom, then played tennis  in the cooler evening hours at pro-level courts nearby.  After picking up home-made ice-cream at Mt. Tom Creamery, we made veggie tacos for dinner and chilled in front of a movie - Trainspotting -- selected because it takes place in one of my sabbatical destinations: Edinburgh.  After so much activity, we both fell asleep before the ending...

Here are a few snapshots I took at the Conservatory. Glorious fluttery things, proving one need not travel all that far to marvel at the work of our ever-Creative Creator.

A week into recovery: here I stand?

Having been a runner for over two-thirds of my life (since I was 12!), I hit a new kind of "wall" this summer when I was in full-throttle training for a long-distance relay called Reach the Beach.  I noticed swelling in my knee and some consequent limping in late June. I figured the swelling would go down on its own and I continued training steadily for my relay.  The swelling increased.  It continued to do so as I hiked up and down the tallest peak in New England (this time without my dog): Mt. Washington.  As the swelling increased around the knee, running and sometimes even walking became problematic. I sought help from my doctor and an orthopedic specialist.  It is not necessary to record the saga that ensued, but after multiple visits, an X-Ray, an MRI, and several sessions with a physical therapist, I learned I would need surgery to remove the torn radial mensicus that was causing the swelling.

Thankfully, due to following "doctor's orders" of rest, ice, and Aleve, I was able to participate in the Reach the Beach relay to support Camp Calumet in mid-September.  I am thrilled as it was a highlight of the year for me and I exceeded my goal of raising $1200 for camp. 

This is my 12-person relay team "Jump the Lake" soon after we reached Hamden Beach, NH, completing our 207 mile run!

As one might expect, the knee problem persisted long after the race even though prednisone kept discomfort and swelling at bay during the event itself.  Just last week -- eight days ago! - I had arthroscopic surgery to have part of my meniscus removed.  I did not know with certainty how long my recovery time would take though the doctor assured I would "walk out of the clinic" and that I would be able to walk my dog later that same day which I did with the help of friends.

Once the bandage was removed two days after surgery, you almost can't tell on which knee was the operation.

I am grateful for the combination of modern medicine and prayer that contributed to my quick healing as today I hiked gently for 3 miles with my friend Christa and trusty dog Jack. My prayer request has been for "full and quick healing."  The prayer is being answered as I write.

I am also thankful for the internal drive for which I am not responsible but which is always with me; it is a drive that prompts me - despite difficult circumstances - to "stand up, get your mat and walk."  In the case of my walks this week, I did not use a mat and I have not practiced yoga in awhile.  But I did stand up, get a dog leash, and walk in beautiful places with my favorite four-legged friend.

These shots are from my visit to Mt. Tom state reservation in Easthampton, MA, during my first week of recovery.

I look forward to doing a lot more standing up and walking, hiking, skiing and even running again. In the meantime, there are many other actions and outcomes I expect my "internal drive" will prompt me to pursue beyond the physical realm, such as finishing my paper for class at Hartford Seminary, preparing my homily for tomorrow's funeral and completing the liturgical preparation necessary for All Saints' Sunday.

As the prayers rise up, so do I!

When Martin Luther was called before the Emperor Charles V many years ago (1521) to recant his critique of the Catholic church, he said his conscience was captive to the Word of God and that it would be unwise and unsafe to go against his conscience.  He ended his famous speech with the words: "Here I stand, I can do no other."

I hope my actions and words can be this integrated with my own conscience and commitments as well. 

For all that has been - thanks. For all that will be - yes.

We on eastern standard time are six hours from putting a close to the year 2013 and opening 2014.  I have mixed feelings about this as I anticipate changes in the new year which are likely to include multiple ups and downs in my life.  Am I ready?  Probably not, but since freezing or delaying time is not an option, all I can say, is Let it Be and Lord, Have Mercy.

The year has been quite full and I have much for which I give thanks.  I offer a gratitude, year-end summary list:

• attending President Obama's second inauguration with close friends, including my college roommate.  The experience was cold, exhilarating, peaceful, and joy-filled -- at least up until the point at which my friend Monica fell ill with the flu, just a few hours after POTUS took the oath 
  
• leading a women's retreat on prayer (inspired by Anne Lamott's book: Help. Thanks.Wow) at Camp Calumet in April with the faithful, caring, and fun women from my church; this was the last time that one of us would step into the waters of Lake Ossippee as our friend Rindi died from ovarian cancer four months after this retreat. Some of her ashes have been scattered at camp.
  
  
• going on a brief retreat myself with UC Div School colleagues in the middle of Pennsylvania -- catching up with a friend I hadn't seen in nine years, playing and praying together with the whole group, hiking along a beautiful waterfall, driving for many, many hours back to eastern Connecticut with one of the cutest kids ever, little Johnny Mills
  
• being accepted into the D.Min. program at Hartford Seminary and beginning the program this fall; I am pictured with MT's (Miriam Therese Winter's) prayer class below
  
  
• welcoming two little Boston cousins into the world: Andrew Pender and Eliana Acadia Harper
• spending a couple HOT days on the Cape with my mom and nephew, which included an adventure in canoeing through the National Seashore
  
• celebrating my dad's 70th birthday by racing a llama during the annual Burro Races in Fairplay, CO; our teams were the aviators and pilots, named after two of his many passions; our shirts read "Go Bananas for Happy" in honor of another passion and the name he is called by his grandkids
  
  
• attending Bishop Elizabeth Eaton's installation in Rockefeller Chapel at the University in Chicago in October; Bishop Eaton is the first female presiding bishop of the ELCA. WOOT! 
• traveling across country with my sister on a not terribly fun road-trip due to fatigue and hunger; the purpose was to bring my nephew's stuff (mainly computer) to him as he was in the process of beginning his freshman year at MIT (super proud aunt right here, another WOOT!)
• going to Disneyworld with John and friends; attending candle-lit processional of Christmas lessons and carols with the Christmas story read by Dennis Haysbert and staying at the Animal Kingdom Lodge from which we could view giraffes, wilderbeasts, and zebras grazing outside our balcony; best part of this December/Advent vacation, by far, was the bright sunshine and  70 degree weather 
  
• attending Katie Yahns' and Jeff Kane's joyous and thoughtful wedding (I remember well the terrific homily on their shared middle initial: L!)
• connecting with my college mentor (Ellie Heginbotham) and campus pastor (Gerry Coleman) in DC and saying goodbye to Katie Osweiler before she and Vic headed out to Niger for his Air Force assignment in the embassy
• hiking Mt. Washington with Jack, treacherous though it was 
• reading "Oh the Places You'll Go" at young friend Amy's memorial service at Zion in Ferndale, WA
• another Christmas in Maine with our friends who live in the deep woods where it is always a winter wonderland this time of year
  
  

Indeed,
in the words of Dag Hammarskjold,
for all that has been - thanks!
and, ready or not,
for all that will be - yes!

Why I love my job

Forbes recently produced an article listing the ten happiest jobs with clergy rating #1. 
You should be able to find Forbes' list at this address: www.forbes.com


I don't know what factored into creating this list and since being a pastor is the only full-time "grown-up" job I've had, I have little to which I can compare it.  However, I can easily see why it would rate high on the happiness scale.

I have often thought, especially in the rural congregation I served: If I didn't have those pesky student & car loans, I wouldn't need to be paid to do what I do; I could just live in the parsonage (a house belonging to the church), eat the delicious fruits, vegetables, and sometimes meat that my parishioners delight in growing and sharing - in addition, of course, to the potlucks we frequently share.  But there is the whole issue of retirement savings and health-care and the desire to buy cute shoes and Starbucks coffee.  First-world issues, of course, but that is the world in which I live.

Though I'm unsure why Forbes thinks it's so happy, the following is what I love about my job.  I want to put this in writing when I'm feeling positive and grateful so I can look back on my list when I'm feeling down and grumpy (could be tomorrow).

 1.  God is gracious, merciful, healing, creative, surprising, playful, and just -- and through Jesus (as well as a whole bunch of other ways) God makes this known to the world.  It is my job to tell stories about this loving and very much alive God in weekly preaching and worship and in small groups, retreats, Bible-studies, forums, meetings, one-on-ones, summer camp, etc.  Doing that is an instant upper.  I mean: I don't always feel super-happy when preparing sermons or leading Bible-studies or sitting in meetings.  I'm often tired or distracted and I get annoyed by strange passages and narrow interpretations of the Bible; I also get disappointed by cranky and controlling people.  But if I even get to utter it once a day in one form or another (God loves you or, more simply, you are loved), I am the one who is blessed.  Every sermon I preach is first preached to myself. 

2.  People invite me to share in their lives in remarkable and intimate ways.  I am honored to share in the joy, blessing and celebration of a birth, baptism, graduation, and wedding; often, because of my role, I'm not only invited to attend such an occasion, but also to help form the ritual and ceremony in a way that reflects the values of the people involved and connects their story to God's story.  Perhaps the even greater honor is to be invited into people's lives during hard times - the break-up of a relationship (though, honestly, I don't receive as many invitations on this one), the loss of a job or death of a loved one, illness, grief, uncertainty about the future, and depression.  Those are enormous and profound experiences, and to walk through them with someone or a family is meaningful and holy work.

While those may be the two best things about my call, I will mention a couple other great things that contribute to my work-place happiness.

3. I have great colleagues! I have wondered at times if I chose to become a pastor at a subconscious level just so I could hang out with pastors.  When I mentioned this out loud to colleagues, they suggested I see a mental health professional.  I have always loved and looked up to my pastors from childhood, adolescence, college, young-adulthood, and then soon enough (actually,it  took a very long time) I became a pastor and I still look up to those pastors from my past as well as the many new ones in my life, all of whom I am blessed to call colleagues.

4. I get to study, have a flexible schedule, and work in a coffee shop.  Reading, writing, and meeting with people in a cafe or pub is a legitimate part of this job.  Frequently, I have multiple meetings in one day at Panera Bread, or I end up at three different coffee shops for different meetings.  While I was waiting for my first call, I worked as a barista at a Starbucks in Seattle and I was excited about it just because I loved coffee shops (plus I was grateful for health-insurance for part-time employees).  What a blessing that I now can pursue what I love most and still work in a coffee shop (and yet not hurt my ear-drums by making eggnog lattes for 8 hours in a row).

There are many other reasons why this is a great gig, but I'll leave it at this short list for now.  I doubt the future-church can sustain many more full-time clergy as congregations continue to get smaller and re-invent themselves.  Seminaries are now encouraging students to consider ways of being bi-vocational.  I'm sure that whatever the body of Christ comes up with as new forms for ministry will be creative and exciting, but I also am glad that I have enjoyed this extreme privilege of being a community's pastor - and I am especially grateful for the congregations that made it possible by extending a call to me: Zion Lutheran in Ferndale, WA, and St. Mark Lutheran in Glastonbury, CT.  Thank you!

 "Stand up, take your mat & walk" is one summary of the God-story which I seek to both convey and embody through my life and daily profession.  Just over ten years ago, I had set out to Berkeley, CA to pursue studies at PLTS (Pacific Lutheran Theological Seminary) for the purpose of preparation for ordained ministry.  That move was the next step (after completing an M.Div. at the University of Chicago) in the adventure which led me to Washington state for internship and my first call, followed by a cross-country move to Connecticut two years ago for my second call. I have now been a pastor for almost seven years.  Every day since then, I have been grateful for the privilege - indeed, an adventure! - of sharing God's love-story with people who are eager to enter it and reflect it outward, and to be invited into the lives and stories of my parishioners.  And most days, I can honestly say I love what I do.

Lemons or lemonade? Learning from mis-adventure

The last month has been full of adventure which is usually what brings me greatest joy in the season of summer.  What became clear to me over the course of these adventures, however, is that trying new things often means making mistakes which ideally can lead to a greater understanding of one's self and world.  But more commonly, it leads to regret and cursing yourself for making the stupid decision(s) that led to the predicament in the first place.  An opportunity may present itself as something sweet and wonderful - like lemonade! -but when you actually take it on, you discover the opportunity tastes more like lemons.  And the mis-adventure ensues.  I offer a couple examples, both dealing with summer hiking companions:

In July, on a whim, I hiked the second tallest mountain in the continental U.S.  I was in Colorado for my dad's 70th birthday, and my sister Monica invited us all on a hike.  Since it is one of her life's goals to summit all the 14-ers in CO, she suggested one she had not yet done: Mt. Elbert.  She said it was known for being easy.  Sounded great!  I encouraged my nieces to join us.  My 17 year-old nephew was already on board, as well as my dad, brother-in-law, and both sisters.  Two nieces were not interested, but the 10 year-old thought about it long and hard, and by the end of the day decided she wanted to join us.  Our crew headed out early the next morning to meet at the trail-head.  We anticipated it would take us 4 hours up and 2 hours down.  In reality, it took us 6 hours to get up, and 5 hours to get down.  It was a HUGE mountain (you don't get to be the tallest peak in CO by being puny!).

The thin air presented a major challenge for breathing, especially for the part above the tree line, but overall I was well-suited for the trail's level of difficulty.  This was not the same story for my 10 year-old niece who fought back tears for much of the way up.  The rest of our crew forged ahead at their own pace; I stayed back with her, feeling responsible for her predicament as I had encouraged her to do this, never having climbed a 14-er myself.  I told her we could turn back at anytime, but she wanted to press on.  When it became especially difficult to breathe as the oxygen got thinner and the mountain got steeper, I told her to take 30 steps, then sit and take a break for 30 seconds.  She did this and the breaks became longer and longer.  Finally - after what seemed like eternity - we made it!  The view from the top of the world (aka Mt. Elbert) was glorious and we took some fabulous pictures.  We also saw a rainbow made of the most vivid colors immediately in front of us on the way down.

It was a joy to hike with my family, and perhaps the joy was felt by no one more than my dad who beamed with pride at the top when surrounded by his family. And it was a huge achievement for us all.  But was it worth the tears of a child?  I'm not sure. If my niece is willing to go hiking again someday, perhaps.  But since Colorado has a lot of other mountains, in the future I will suggest a hike that is more family-friendly.

Mis-adventure #2:  Having just experienced the Rocky Mountain high, I returned to the east coast intent on taking more hikes.  I booked a couple nights' stay at a campsite at Camp Calumet in New Hampshire.  I packed up my dog, backpack, and a change of clothes and headed north with the hope of climbing Mt. Washington - the northeast's highest peak.  I had read a few articles and was happy to learn dogs are welcome so in preparation, I had taken Jack, my 5 year-old chocolate lab, on several extra-long hikes in the Glastonbury/Manchester area. Once in New Hampshire, we set out early from our campsite on a Monday morning in early August.  I stopped in at the main visitor's center for food, water, and a map.  A staff-member recommended a couple specific trails for us to take - advice which we followed, at least for the way up.

All was wonderful for the first mile: there were friendly people, running streams, and a shady path for us to enjoy.  Then we hit the beginning of "Lion Head" (name of our trail) which amounted to a pile of rocks stacked directly on top of each other; this rock-pile continued for the remainder of the hike (3 more miles and  3,000+ feet in elevation). The rocks were so big and cliff-like we had to climb a ladder at the beginning of the super steep part.  Yes, my fearless dog climbed a ladder. That is what I considered the point of no return as there was no way he was going to climb down it.  We now had to get to the top.

The only problem, at least the primary one, was that Lion Head turned out to be an incredibly hostile trail for dogs. It required scaling rock-walls as if you were spider-man, sprawling yourself across the mountain on all fours. And the rocks, being more ancient that granite, were very rough; I later learned they are notorious for ripping paws up. What was Jack supposed to do?  He did his best, and then some.  At one point, after bounding up the mountain behind a group of teenagers, he found a resting place in the shade of a large rock - one of the only resting places in those entire 3 miles - and he slept for a half hour.  When he lay down, he was heaving intensely and for so long, I thought he was going to die.  I cursed myself for being foolish enough to bring him up there.  I apologized profusely to him and cried. I also prayed and read my Bible.  He didn't understand my apologies, but he certainly appreciated the love, water and snacks I provided (carrots, blueberries, and PB&J sandwiches).  Several hikers passed by us and some went out of their way to encourage us.  We learned we were 2.8 miles into the 4 mile trail (one-way).

Somehow, after his power-nap, we managed to keep going up (though there was no other way to go).  Several times, I helped hoist Jack up by supporting his haunches.  Other times, I had to look away due to fear and anxiety as he climbed up a steep and dangerous cliff. We ran into three dogs in the last half-mile which helped spur him on and, eventually, we both made it to the top.

A hike that should have taken me 4 hours took us 6 1/2 to get up.  Mercifully, a shuttle was available to take us back down.  After thanking God that we reached the summit with my dog still in one piece, I booked the next available shuttle.  We had two hours to spare until our departure which Jack spent doling out affection to every visitor who crossed his path.  He was a big hit!  One guy sat with him while I went inside the visitor's center to get food and water.  When I returned, the guy said those few minutes sitting with Jack was the highlight of his day.

Lemons or lemonade?  Jack's presence made life notably sweeter for all who crossed our path (and there were probably at least a hundred people with whom we interacted during the hike or on top of the mountain), but I don't think the sweetness outweighs the bitter regret I faced during the climb. Lesson learned: next time I go to Mt. Washington, I will bring a human friend, and I'll save my hikes with Jack for a gentler terrain.  We both deserve that.