So This Is Love

Here's my sermon from today. I kinda got goosebumps at the end. My only regret in preaching it is that I moved away from the pulpit and preached it off cards. I think I would've put even more energy into it had I not been worried about that and just had the papers in front of me. Oh, well, live and learn. I was also a little nervous about parts of it because the church I preached in tends towards the conservative side, and well, you know what they say about the prophet in her home town. But I think it went very well! Without further ado... 

So This is Love- SoS 2:1-11, 8:6-7; Romans 13:8-10, John 13:31-35

 I’ve been thinking about love a lot in the past few weeks, and not just because yesterday was Valentine’s Day. Sure, the television has been filled with ads about buying the right piece of jewelry or even the perfect car for that special someone, and the stores have been full of pink and red since about Christmas Eve, but my real focus on love started right around January 20, Inauguration Day.

 Although I originally missed most of the reading of the inaugural poem, “Praise Song for the Day” by Elizabeth Alexander, I caught enough to be interested and search for the text later. One stanza, in particular, stood out:

                        Some live by love thy neighbor as thyself

                        others by first do no harm or take no more

                        than you need. What if the mightiest word is love?[1]

 That phrase has been pounding in my head for weeks: What if the mightiest word is LOVE?

I chose these three texts today because they all speak of love, although all in distinctive ways. The love in the Song of Songs in particular is of a different type than what Jesus and Paul were talking about. The ancient Greeks used three different words that we translate as “love.” First, there’s philia, which is love for family or friends, platonic love. That’s why Philadelphia is known as the “city of brotherly love.” Next is eros, romantic or erotic love, what our lover in Song of Songs is describing, and finally agape, often described as “charitable love” and sometimes translated as charity, it implies unselfish, giving love. It’s also many times described as “Christian love,” but I would argue that all of these would be forms of Christian love.

I want to talk mostly today about agape, but first I want to explain why I chose these verses from Song of Songs, since I just mentioned that the love written about there is eros. I chose them because of their portrayal of love as powerful. At the end of the first selection, the female lover warns the daughters of Jerusalem, as she does often in the book, to “not stir up or awaken love until it is ready!” Love can do powerful things, so watch out! The second selection may be familiar to some of you; it is often read or sung at weddings. These verses take it even further—“love is strong as death,” “many waters cannot quench love, nor floods drown it.” The writer of the Song of Songs, who may be Solomon, or may not be, is stating without reserve that love is mighty.

Jesus was well aware of the power of love. In the Gospels he tells the disciples and the crowds quite explicitly who and how to love. We’re back to that agape word again. In Matthew, Mark, and Luke, we’re told that Jesus said the two most important commandments are to love God with all our hearts, soul, and mind, and to love our neighbors as ourselves. And then here in John he gives a new commandment, very simple: love one another. Just love one another, that’s it, that’s how you follow me, he says, by loving one another.

Now, here I want to make something very clear. Jesus was not saying we should all somehow force ourselves to feel all lovey-dovey towards each other, that we should create this world utopia of happiness and rainbows and all hold hands and sing Kumbaya. See, this, I think, is where people get really hung up on one of Jesus’ other teachings on love, that we love our enemies. People get so frustrated that they cannot feel love for their enemies. Anger, a want for revenge, disappointment, fear, yes. But love? I count among my enemies anyone who hurts children, perpetrates domestic abuse, or, at the moment, takes a huge bonus out of government money when the economy is falling apart. If one such person walked into this church right now, would I be able to look them in the eye and feel my heart warm and swell with love? Uh…NO.

But that’s ok—because that’s not what Jesus intends. When Jesus says, “love one another,” love is not feeling, it’s action. That’s really important, so let me repeat it: this love is not something we feel, it’s something we do. And if we do it right, we do it without distinction, expectation, or condition, because that’s the way God loves. Paul gets it right in his letter to the Romans when he says that all the commandments in the law—the commandments given by God to Moses—can be summed up by saying “love your neighbor as yourself.”

Jesus particularly stresses that we should love those who don’t love us, because that’s more difficult. “Even sinners,” he says in Luke, “love those who love them.” He acknowledges that loving each other, and particularly loving those with whom we disagree or have hurt us or who just seem to be following an evil path, is hard.

But by doing this, he said, “everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” As the old hymn says, “and they’ll know we are Christians by our love, by our love, yes they’ll know we are Christians by our love.”

They will know we are Christians, followers of Christ, by how we love. But what does that mean? Matthew’s account of the Gospel gives us some examples: feeding the hungry, visiting the prisoners, clothing the naked, caring for the sick. And again, Jesus does not say love one another…except for this group, those people, and anyone who’s like this.

Jesus preached a love that was radical when he lived and is still radical more than 2,000 years later. “Everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” And yet is this what we see around us? As a pastor-to-be, I’ve already found that when I share with people my chosen profession, it often sounds to them like an open invitation to share their thoughts, and more often their problems with Christianity. What I’ve heard over and over again, and what I see portrayed in the media are stories of exclusion where there should be inclusion, of close-mindedness in place of open hearts, of acting with fear, anger, and hate instead of with love. All by people who claim to be followers of Christ.

Now, should any of my enemies that I mentioned earlier make their hypothetical way into this church, would I feel love for them? No. Would I forget what they’d done, or not demand they receive consequences for their actions? Absolutely not. I would, however, welcome them to come and worship with us, and join us downstairs for coffee and fellowship. I would love them. Now, to be clear, love is not always welcoming—if one of those people caused harm or posed an immediate safety risk, I would love them and everyone else by asking them to leave. Jesus may have encouraged us to offer up the other cheek if we’re hit, but he was instructing his followers not to respond to violence with violence. I do not believe that following his commands to love one another and to love our enemies means allowing ourselves to be abused.

That being said, Jesus’ command to love one another is intimately connected to justice, and sometimes we do have to risk it all in the name of love. There are countless examples: Oscar Romero, the three nuns killed in El Salvador in 1980, Martin Luther King, Jr., …these are more contemporary examples, but the list is long, and stretches back millennia. People who have declared that they would not stop loving, even at the risk of their lives. They knew how powerful love is—and so did their enemies. Mahatma Ghandi knew the power of love in non-violence when he said, “First they ignore you, then they ridicule you, then they fight you, then you win.” He was also assassinated.

When Jesus started his ministry, he was ignored by the religious and political elite. As he continued, he was ridiculed for his willingness to eat with outcasts. Then, seeing his growing following and challenge to the status quo in both the religious and political spheres, he was killed. “Love is strong as death, and passion fierce as the grave,” our lover proclaims. It reminds me of that Easter hymn that says, “where, o death, is now thy sting?” They ignored him, ridiculed him, fought him…and then he won, because he loved all the way to the end, even asking God to forgive those who had put him on that cross. 

Now, I’m not suggesting we all go and put our lives at risk in the name of love, but this radical love is risky. We risk having to let go of notions of who belongs and who is an outsider, of loving without receiving anything in return, of loving people who by their beliefs or differences or simple unfamiliarity make us uncomfortable, of changing the whole world, and that, even if it’s for the better, can be terrifying.

“What if the mightiest word is love?” What if every action or reaction we made every day was to love? Imagine, for a moment, that each member of our government made every decision based not on what was “morally right” or best for the bottom line, but by what best followed the commandment to love one another? Imagine if people in areas of conflict came to negotiating tables not with the goal of getting everything they wanted but with the goal of loving the others there? There are much smaller things too: imagine someone cutting you off in traffic and instead of yelling and/or making an unfriendly gesture you smile and say—even if they can’t hear you—have a nice day? If you, intentionally or unintentionally cut someone off, which would you rather get? How could that change your perspective? Imagine taking a big breath and pushing aside your discomfort with the hungry and homeless to volunteer a couple hours in a shelter or food kitchen. Many, many, many of us—particularly in this economy—are only one paycheck away from being homeless ourselves. Imagine taking five minutes to send an e-mail or write a letter to our government representatives about a justice issue—child health care or torture or outsourcing jobs. Imagine if you were someone affected by one of those issues, how you’d feel knowing someone took the time to do that. Imagine you pick up the phone and call someone who’s sick or lonely or simply someone you’re thinking about. Imagine if you were the recipient of that phone call. Love one another. Love your neighbor as yourself. By this everyone will know you are my disciples, if you love one another.

In my mind, it is no longer a question. Love IS the mightiest word, and when made an action and not simply a feeling, love IS a raging flame which no water can put out. When we go out from this place today, let us make sure the world knows that we are followers of Christ by the way we love one another. Amen.  

---

[1] Elizabeth Alexander, “Praise Song for the Day,” Graywolf Press, found at NY Times online, http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/20/us/politics/20text-poem.html?ref=books, accessed 13 February 2009.

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By request: the Gibbs sermon

Many people were intrigued by the notion of comparing Jesus to Agent Gibbs from the television show NCIS, and even more intrigued when I said I also included a tune from a Broadway show. So, by popular demand, here is my sermon, entitled "Follow Me" and is based on Mark 1:14-20. I wouldn't say it's my best, and there's  certainly room for improvement, but I think it's one of those that's better preached than read. Sorry!

You know, there’s one thing I appreciate about reading the stories of Jesus’ life from different perspectives. Jesus has a different way about him in each of the Gospels, most likely reflecting the personalities of the people telling his story. Mark’s version of the Gospel is one I struggle with, but the way he portrays Jesus is pretty interesting. Jesus is not so meek and mild in Mark. Perhaps that’s why Marks skips the birth narrative, to avoid presenting Jesus to us as small and manageable.

 In this story from Mark, Jesus reminds me of Agent Gibbs on the television show NCIS. Anybody watch that show? It’s one of the many crime dramas on these days, and admittedly probably my favorite. Gibbs is a pretty strong personality. No mincing words, just straight to the point, just like Jesus at the Sea of Galilee. He tells the four men, “Follow me” and then moves along, just expecting they would do so. Later in the Gospel, the disciples often appear confused or clueless, and at those moments I can almost see Jesus slapping a few of them upside the head, Gibbs style.

 Anyway, getting back to our text, Mark doesn’t tell us the men’s thoughts about Jesus’ bold statement—if they questioned it at all, if they wondered what they were getting into, if they were curious about what he meant when he said “fish for people.” Instead, Mark says, they “immediately left their nets and followed him.”

 Wow, now that’s faith. It doesn’t say whether Jesus had ever met Simon (who’s later named Peter), Andrew, James or John, but it’s possible they had heard of him. I mean Jesus had been traveling around Galilee proclaiming the good news of the kingdom of God, so I’m guessing they probably had gotten wind of what he was saying. Yet they hadn’t independently searched him out—they were still going about their daily lives when Jesus showed up and changed everything.

 Follow me. Follow me. Earlier I spoke with the children about the choices we make about leaders to follow. Certainly this is not exclusive to children. Adults—perhaps even more so than children since there is no one else to make our choices for us—have to make many choices about whom and what to follow in our lives.

 There are many examples of ways we follow. We follow trends—market trends, food trends, fashion trends. How else can we explain bell bottoms and neon spandex? We follow politics and national events—how many people watched the inauguration on Tuesday? We follow TV shows—the producers try to come up with what they call “appointment” television—shows around which we schedule our lives, and it often works. You know, like, “Ooh, dinner Tuesday? I can’t, American Idol is on.” We follow sports, which can be exhausting. I remember following the Red Sox in 2004 and all those games that ran well past midnight!

 We follow people, too. Whole websites and magazines are dedicated to what’s happening in the lives of celebrities, sports players, public figures.

 So that brings us to the question: are we following Jesus?

 Ok, here’s a follow-up: what does that even mean?  How do we get up and leave our nets to follow Jesus today?

 Let me start out by saying I think our first clue is in the word “follow.” See, follow is not really something you can do once and it’s done, like stand, for instance. If you’re sitting, you can stand, and once you’re on your feet, the action is completed. Following generally means something continuous, ongoing. Certainly, you can follow something or someone for a set period of time—a season of sports or how an event plays out or simply following someone to a destination.

 But in this passage, Jesus doesn’t give a set boundary of where or for how long to follow him. He doesn’t say, “Follow me to Capernaum,” or “follow me until I’m arrested.” No, he says, “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.” It’s opened-ended.

 Again, though, this brings us back to the question, “How do we live this out today?”

 Well, I think in a few ways.

 Let me start with what seems like the easiest one: joy. Perhaps my favorite saying about call is from Frederick Beuchner: “The place where God calls you is the place where your deep gladness meets the world’s great need.” Isn’t that wonderful? In other words, when Jesus says, “follow me,” he’s not asking us to give up all joy and pleasure in life to do so. God wants us to be happy. The writer Barbara Brown Taylor writes of an experience she had in which she was struggling to figure out her call. She just couldn’t figure out what it was that God wanted her to do and be. In her frustration and exasperation, one midnight, she says, she fell down on her knees in prayer and said: “Okay, God. You need to level with me. What do you want me to be? What do you want me to do? What are you calling me to do?” She said she felt a very powerful response, God saying, “Do what pleases you. Belong to me, but do what pleases you.” She said it struck her as very strange that God’s call could actually touch that place of her greatest joy, that she could be called to do the thing that pleases her the most. Following Jesus is joyful (that doesn’t mean easy, but I’ll get to that later).

 Another way to look at how we follow Jesus today is as “the continual refocusing on living in the kingdom of God.” A friend of mine describes this as “hitting the wall of ‘what’s next?’” When we’re following Jesus, that might mean working on a justice issue, or fighting for what’s right. If the justice issue is resolved, if the fight is won, then what? My friend offered the example of the inauguration. So many people were so excited on Tuesday, and even Wednesday, but then what? That’s not the end of a journey, but just a step. Jesus takes his disciples different places and visits different people, and the focus changes. One day it’s about the poor, one day it’s about the children, one day it’s a parable he has to explain to the disciples. We don’t stop following, don’t stop attempting to live into the realm of God when we reach one milestone. We have to step back and take a moment to focus on what’s next—because there’s always a “what’s next!”

 A third way to live out this message is to remember that following Jesus is not a one-time thing. Remember what I said about the word “follow?” Jesus didn’t ask the disciples to follow him just on that lakeshore. They were asked to follow him when they were in a boat during a storm. They were asked to follow him when there was a large crowd and not enough food to go around. They were asked to follow him when he was arrested, and tried, and crucified. They had to make a choice not just the first time, but every time he asked. And they didn’t always make the right one—but they kept trying. Even as scary and life-altering as things got, they kept trying to follow Jesus.

 But here’s where I think that it’s right about here when we come to a screeching halt sometimes when we’re trying to follow Jesus. The disciples Jesus called in Mark’s story are offered a new way to use their skills and passion for fishing, but they had to give up the old way, leave their families, become social outcasts, and enter dangerous situations. There are costs to discipleship. I think often we are totally gung-ho about following Jesus—as long as it fits into the life with which we’re comfortable.

 Let me give you an example. A couple of years ago I watched an Oprah show called “fascinating families.” A woman named Lysa described how one evening, she took her two young daughters to a performance by a boys’ choir from an orphanage in Liberia. She explained that she thought she was just going for this cultural experience. But during the concert, she said she heard God’s voice in her heart say that two of those boys were hers. Her reaction? An internal “Lalalala! I’m not listening!” She said, “I just went to hear a concert. I didn't go that day for life interrupted.”

 “I didn’t go that day for life interrupted.” I’m not sure about you, but I know that’s how I often feel when I sense Jesus saying “follow me” towards something big, or difficult, or frightening—or simply not in the plan for the day! And unfortunately, too many times, that initial reaction makes our decision for us, and we stay in our comfort zones. But if we decide to step out in faith, let go of our nets and take the risk of following Jesus, the returns can be beyond what we’d ever imagined.

 After the concert, Lysa said she went to the car and called her husband and said something like, “Hi honey, do we need milk? And by the way, there are two teenage boys from the other side of the world now calling me Mom.”

 Now, as happens many times when we act on what we feel is a call from God, Lysa’s four best friends were skeptical. However, Lysa convinced them to attend a concert, and all four adopted boys. One couple, whose two sons were in college, even brought over the boys’ siblings from Liberia, adopting a total of six kids! And it didn’t stop there—all in all, 14 families adopted a total of 31 children from the same Liberian orphanage.

 But here’s the thing: she still has to keep following. It’s not like she was given that one choice and there, she made it, she adopted those boys, she’s done. Every day she, and we, have to make decisions about whether we follow Jesus or not. What clothes we buy, what food we eat, which people we pay attention to, what words we speak or when we choose to stay silent, all those are decisions to follow Jesus or not.

 Again, though, this is not a once-in-a-lifetime shot. We can’t just say, “Ok, yes, I’m going to follow Jesus” and expect to be finished. There are two things that help us. The first is being in community with others who are also trying to follow Jesus, which, in my opinion, should be the main purpose for attending church. A second help is an idea stressed in 12-step programs: One Day at a Time. It can be overwhelming to think of trying to follow wherever Jesus calls you for the rest of your life…but today might be manageable.

 Follow me. Today, follow me. Tomorrow, try again. Like Gibbs on NCIS, Jesus doesn’t want to hear our excuses why we can’t do it, our protests about life interrupted. He just says, “follow me.” We either do or we don’t each time, but like the disciples, even when we make mistakes or doubt or don’t understand, we keep trying. We keep following.

 I like to put some music in my sermons whenever possible, and while reflecting on this idea, a song kept popping into my head, and so I’d like to end with it as a prayer, that each day we may follow Jesus “more nearly.” You may know it, and if you do, feel free to sing along.

 Day by day, day by day. Oh, dear Lord, three things I pray: to see Thee more clearly, love Thee more dearly, follow Thee more nearly, day by day…

Oh, and the congregation (small as it was) did join and and sing with me.

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Last minute preaching

I think I really should have one or two generic works-for-just-about-everyone-anytime sermons, so that I don't have to write one out of practically thin air when I'm asked to preach at the last minute.

I was asked on Wednesday night to fill pulpit supply this Sunday--so not just preaching, but prayers, call to worship, children's sermon, etc. Because of choir practice and then staying at friends' house overnight so I could take their older son to school in the morning while their infant was having surgery to put tubes in his ears (he's doing well), I didn't even get a chance to look at the lectionary texts until late yesterday afternoon. Then I had to choose what I was using quickly so that I could figure out the rest of the service and get it to the woman who prepares the bulletin.

So now I'm left to write my sermon. I'm using two lectionary texts-- Jonah 3:1-5, 10 and Mark 1:14-20. Fairly easy, I suppose, as texts go: God calls Jonah to Ninevah but then changes God's mind, and Jesus calls the fishermen to fish for people instead. Call stories, my favorite! I've been letting the texts percolate all day, and have a few questions and thoughts...but not much else. Do I focus on call? On something specific in the Mark passage? I'd love to preach on God changing God's mind--because it's so unusual and probably unfamiliar to people--but I'm not sure where to go with it.

Sigh...I really hope the Holy Spirit is hanging out in my pillow tonight, so I can get up and bang this sermon out tomorrow!

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New Year Part II: Looking Ahead to 2009

So after a lot of thought, I've finally written my list of resolutions/goals/intentions for the year. So what if we're more than two weeks into 2009? That just means I've really taken it seriously. I also found I started to get nervous about sharing them. It's a pretty personal process, and by letting others know what my goals are, I'm also letting them know if I don't reach them, which is a little scary.

So here they are, all 13 of them. It may seem like a lot, but they cover many areas in my life, and I've got 11 1/2 months to accomplish them...and hey, 13 is a significant biblical number. Without further ado...

1. Write every day for 30 minutes.
2. At least until in a parish position, write one sermon per month.
3. Once a week or more, post on my personal blog and Everyday Citizen.
4. Learn to knit.
5. Complete a 5k race.
6. Finish all my UFOs (unfinished projects) from before 2009.
7. Open a second Etsy shop for stoles, make 5 sales, and go to one conference or other event as a vendor.
8. Expand first Etsy shop: add three new products, attend two craft shows, make 30 sales, join one Etsy team, have one item featured on the front page.
9. Take the Jeopardy online test.
10. Read 40 books.
11. Do two projects in The Art Quilt Workbook.
12. Be intentional about keeping in touch with people—respond to phone calls, e-mails, etc within 48 hours, and make definite plans rather than just saying we should get together.
13. Learn to juggle.

What do you think?

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New Year Part I: Looking Back at 2008

A member of a listserv to which I belong listed 100 things she accomplished in 2008 on her blog. I hoped to do the same...but instead came up with 50 things I did or that happened in my life. There are probably more, but it's hard to remember yesterday, never mind the past 12 months. Perhaps this is a clue that I need to journal more!

Anyway, here it is, in no particular order, my life in 2008: 

1. May- I graduated from Union Theological Seminary with my Master of Divinity. 
2. May- I unexpectedly received the Karen Zeigler Feminist Preaching Prize at commencement.
3. July- My sister Katie and her husband Doug welcomed Caleb Benjamin to the world.
4. June- My best friend Bethany, her husband Jay, and their son Joey welcomed Evan David to the world.
5. May- My father was laid off from his job.
6. January- After many days of heavy wet snow, a tree fell onto the deck of my parents’ house on New Year’s Day, causing minor damage to the house and killing the gas grill.
7. April- I was accepted to In Care status by the Metropolitan-Suffolk Association of the United Church of Christ on my 29^th birthday.
8. February- I found a job as a consultant, working as project manager/copy editor of the Prayer Calendar, a project of United Methodist Women.
9. May- I moved from NYC back to NH and back into my parents’ home.
10. May- During the move, I tried to drive a U-Haul through the Bronx and knocked off the passenger side mirror on a train trestle on Jerome Ave. On the way to NH, my friend Darlene had to stick her head out the window anytime we drove to the right.
11. October- I wrote an article to be published in Response, the magazine of the United Methodist Women.
12. November- I was in Spanish Harlem when the announcement comes that Barack Obama had been elected the 44^th President of the United States.
13. January- I traveled to New Orleans on a mission trip with my church. We helped build a house, and I fell in love with the city, vowing to someday take my own church groups down to help what will surely be a long renewal process. 
14. March- I finished my thesis project, a collection of stoles, for which I received a Credit with Distinction.
15. April- I showed my stoles and received great comments and affirmation of my skills as an artist, particularly with fabric.
16. November- I preached for an unfamiliar congregation for the first time, in Francestown, NH. They loved me, despite some having thought I was a teenager at first.
17. December- I led my first Christmas Eve service, and cried in front of the whole congregation (in a good way).
18. December- A huge ice storm hit southern NH, leaving hundreds of thousands without power. We were without power for 4 days, three trees fell on my mother’s car at once (and also damage the deck but this time leave the grill untouched), a huge branch fell on the front lawn, a tree fell and blocked the road, and our basement, family room, and sewing room were flooded with 8 inches of water.
19. Summer- I had my own garden in my parents’ backyard. Unfortunately, it’s a cool, wet summer, and although we enjoy some fresh veggies, the harvest was not as great as hoped, particularly from the squash and zucchini plants, which got attacked by a nasty bug.
20. Whole Year- I wrote 35 blog entries on my personal blog.
21. Whole Year- My personal blog had 1,626 visits, up from 283 in 2007.
22. February- I was invited to join a group blog, Everyday Citizen, for which I wrote eight entries throughout the year.
23. November- I opened a store on Etsy, selling homemade baby bibs.
24. November- I sold my first two items on Etsy.
25. May- I painted my room in my parents house a buttery yellow, much better than the lavender it had been.
26. November- After much struggle and many re-writes, I finally finished my Statement of Ministry for my ministerial profile.
27. December- I completed the psychological evaluation required for my ordination process.
28. July- I joined a dating website.
29. July- I went on my first “first date” in a long time, with a guy I met online. It never went past that.
30. August- I went on a date with a second guy from the dating website, which lasted 10 hours.
31. August- I had a boyfriend…for about two weeks.
32. August- I came down with shingles, which on a positive note were pretty mild and should keep me from getting them when I’m older.
33. June- I went to Connecticut and saw cousins I hadn’t seen in 15 years, and met the two kids of one of them.
34. April- I went to my ten-year high school reunion and had a blast catching up with old friends.
35. July- My parents’ cat, Isabella, went missing after I accidentally let her outside in the evening and forgot to let her back in. She was never found.
36. July- While searching for Izzy, I made a new friend, Claire, who’s in her 80s. I started chatting with her every day during my morning walks.
37. September- After finally accepting Izzy was gone for good, my parents and I went to the Humane Society and adopted Sophie, a 5-month old black and white kitten.
38. June- I was officially asked to officiate the wedding of a friend from high school in May 2009, in Hawaii. Of course, I accepted.
39. August- I was asked by another friend from high school to officiate his wedding in July 2009, in NH. I also accepted.
40. August- I was told “I love you” by someone.
41. January- I took an intensive course on contemplative practice in Buddhist and Christian traditions at General Theological Seminary.
42. February- I connected with two distant relatives (one from each side of the family) through Ancestry.com.
43. December- I finished the 29^th book out of my goal of 50 for the year.
44. February-March- I observed Lent by not watching television, which actually allowed me some pleasure reading amidst the end of seminary.
45. March- My great-aunt Jeanette passed away.
46. November- I found my best friend from first grade, who I hadn’t spoken to in about 20 years, on Facebook.
47. May- Along with Julie, my partner-in-crime, I organized and hosted the second annual Union Prom. 
48. December- I won my fantasy football league.
49. August- I finally investigated the trail in the conservation area down the street, and began running there.
50. October- I began babysitting part-time for two little boys.

Did I forget anything? It's been quite an eventful year, in both positive and negative ways. Overall, I think in 2008 I improved many relationships, re-focused how I spent my time, and became more confident about myself, my gifts, and what I uniquely have to contribute to the world.

So what's up for 2009? I'll let you know in my next post, which will cleverly and unexpectedly be titled, "New Year Part II."

Blessings to all!

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"A Clove of Truth: Stinging Yet Clarifying"

I love to use my blog to do good and help others. So here I offer my official plug about a new online publication a friend of mine is launching on January 1: The Garlic Press (http://garlicpressnews.com).

 

Yes, that's right. Similar in vein to The Onion, The Garlic Press (http://garlicpressnews.com) will offer entertainment, food for thought...and perhaps a nugget of truth here or there (or so I've been told). After January 1, we will be able to savor the wit and wonder of The Garlic Press every month.

I urge you all to flood the website on New Year's Day, after suitably recovering from the previous night's festivities, of course. My friend the mad creator of this publication will not disappoint, of that I am sure. 

Even better, unlike after consuming real garlic, I ask you to open your mouth and share the wealth. Let people know about this great new thing!

Again: 

The Garlic Press, http://garlicpressnews.com, January 1, 2009. 

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Hair as Identity

My blogger friend PeaceBang recently posted a link to a post at another blog on her own Beauty Tips for Ministers. The posting, from the blog Search the Sea, deals with the writer not knowing who she is, and therefore what clothes to wear, as she grieves.

One commenter noted a link to self-identity and hair, that "the less sure I am of 'me' the less content I am with any hairstyle."

PB also recently posted about the politics of hair in the black church, inspired by a comment by my friend Kym (whose hair, by the way, I've long admired).

Like it or not, hair says something about identity. It can say, "I'm a radical, non-conformist half-hippie chick" or "I religiously follow what Us magazines says all the celebrities are doing with their hair." It can give off a vibrant or dowdy vibe. It can say something about your cultural background--short hair on women is unheard of in some cultures.

So what does my hair say about me? The comment on Search the Sea struck a chord. I've been thinking about my hairstyle a lot lately. This is partly because it's in that in-between growing out stage and has lots of short layers that don't always do what they should. The other morning I when I got out of bed and looked in the mirror, I thought I'd morphed into a member of an 80s hair band. Seriously.

I've thought about cutting it--I actually really liked the short, flippy style I rocked after donating my hair in 2007. It was fun and very easy to care for.

I'm kind of a ponytail type though. I love the way it swings when I go running, and how it pulls my thick hair off my neck in the summer.

Really, though, like the commenter, I think the real issue is about identity, not hair.

What does wearing my hair long say about who I am? It could say I'm young, sexy, have time to commit to styling (even if I don't actually style that much), traditional or free-spirited (depending on how I wear it), stuck in the past, girl next door, not ready to grow up, conformist.

Wearing my hair short could mean I think adult women should have short(er) hair, I'm mature, free-spirited or traditional (same as above), making a statement, short on time, independent.

If I'd had shorter hair when I guest preached, would I have garnered more instant respect? Once they knew me, did it matter?

This summer I had some thick side-swept bangs cut. I grew up with bangs, and couldn't wait to get rid of them as a teenager. Then, around age 21, I tried again...and earned the nickname Winnie Cooper. I'd sworn them off, but decided to give it one more shot. I love them, except for the fact that I can't afford to get them trimmed professionally and so attempt myself. I'm not really sure I'm doing a very good job.

So what do those say about me? Maybe I'm artsy, traditional, young, trend-follower?

I know my hairstyle now doesn't fit me. The problem is, I think I need to be more sure about who "me" really is before I know why--or what style will work.

India.Arie sings "I Am Not My Hair"...but don't you think hair is part of personal identity?

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The Widow's Mite...modernized

I don't know if she's a widow, and unlike the story from the Bible, I know her name. It's Therese Currier. Really, I have no idea if she's even old enough to marry. But I think she's pretty special.

Our local paper runs a "Santa Fund" each year in partnership with the Salvation Army and the Nashua Pastoral Care Center to provide Christmas gifts to families in need. Each day, the paper includes a short profile on someone who's being helped by the Santa Fund, as well as a listing of the most recent contributions. I generally scan the lists, looking for interesting dedications--"In memory of my sweet Willoughby, the best dog ever"--or particularly noteworthy sums. There are lots of contributions of $20, $25, $50, a few $100+. The contributions over $1000 are generally from groups or companies. A local copy company recently donated $30,000, for which I'm sure everyone at the Fund is grateful.

Today, though, what caught my eye, was Therese's contribution: $3. Three. Dollars. Now, there are many who may scoff at the amount, wondering what toy or article of clothing can be bought with a measely $3? Well, in my experience, they'd be right--you can't buy much with $3.

But that's not the point. I look at all the other contributions, and I'm grateful for them, and glad people have been generous. Then I wonder how much it meant to them, and how much this $3 meant to Therese. I think of everyone I hear saying they can't afford to give as much--or at all--this year. For many that is certainly true. But again, here's Therese. No, perhaps she couldn't afford to give $20, $25, $100. Maybe she couldn't even afford to give $5. But she gave $3, possibly her only money leftover after paying bills and buying food--or maybe she even gave it knowing it'd be $3 she really couldn't afford. We can imagine it's her mite, all she had.

Alone, that $3 doesn't do much for all the families in need this Christmas. But in the city of Nashua, NH, where the paper is based, there are (as of the 2000 Census) 86,605. 68,507 are 15 or older. Imagine if they each gave $3: that would add up to $205,521. Let's even say only half of those people contributed $3. We'd still have $102,760.50 to help get kids things they need, and some things they just want, for Christmas. And that's just one small city!

So I offer that perhaps when we see an article in the paper, or receive a request for donation to a worthy cause, that before we quickly reply, "Oh, I wish I could, but..." we consider Therese Currier and her $3. We don't have to give big (although hey, if you've got some money hanging around, go ahead and be generous). Jesus--and Therese--remind us that is the act of giving that matters. And like so much else, small actions made by many people can create a big effect.

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Where is God?

What follows is the transcript of the sermon I preached yesterday at the Community Church of Francestown, NH. The texts were Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19; Isaiah 64:1-9; 1 Corinthians 1:3-9; and Mark 13:24-37.

Happy New Year!

That’s right, today marks the first day of Advent, which begins a new year in the Christian calendar. We’ve come through the long weeks of “ordinary time” since the last big festival, Pentecost, back in May, and now we’ve arrived in Advent, the four weeks leading up to Christmas.

Usually, these are the weeks when we go through the story of the birth of Jesus: the annunciation to Mary by the angel that she was carrying a child, the meeting between Mary and her cousin Elizabeth, the call by the governor for a census to be taken, the journey of Mary and Joseph to Bethlehem, where they found no room at the inn and the Christ child was born and placed in a manger. Then the angels announce the birth to the shepherds, and the star shines showing the magi where the child lay so they could offer him gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh.

In our worship services, we sing traditional songs: “Hark the Herald Angels Sing,” “Oh Little Town of Bethlehem,” “We Three Kings.” Advent is a time of joy and happiness and the expectation of the birth of a baby.

But the birth narratives we know are found in Matthew and Luke (neither of which, by the way, has the same version). And a new church year, for those of us who follow the lectionary, means a new cycle of texts. This year, with the very creative name of Year B, we begin with Mark, and he skips the story of Jesus’ birth altogether. He begins his book with the baptism, so the Advent texts from his Gospel focus on the other part Advent, the one we often forget amid the drive—in the church and secular worlds—towards Christmas.

Our word Advent derives from the Latin adventus, meaning “coming.” Generally, we apply that to anticipation of the coming of the Christ child, but Advent is also a time to anticipate Christ’s coming again, what Mark calls “the return of the Son of Man.”

I’ll let you in on a little preaching secret—this does not make for an easy sermon, nor does this cycle of texts tend to make congregations all that happy during Advent. I’m guessing many of you here had the same reaction when Susan read the texts this morning as I did when I first looked at them.

I was excited to prepare the service for today. Hey, it’s the first Sunday in Advent! Piece of cake! Some happy “here starts the journey to Bethlehem” stuff, some familiar Christmas carols, a reminder to focus on the spiritual, not the material this season, etc. etc. And then I read the texts.

First the Gospel. Hm, sun and moon darkening, stars falling from the sky, heaven and earth passing away. Ok…not so Christmassy.
Well, surely Isaiah will be fine. We read Isaiah a lot during Advent: there’s all the stuff about a branch growing from the stump of Jesse, preparing the way in the wilderness, about the names that the Messiah shall be called. Nope. It’s all about God hiding from us. Greeeaaat.

Psalm 80? A lamentation, again, asking where God is. The passage from Corinthians? More about waiting for Christ’s return.

So my first reaction was disappointment, annoyance, confusion. This is not what I expect from Advent texts. Perhaps you experienced something similar.

But while our texts this morning are not your typical preparing-for-Christmas texts, they are suitable for Advent, and I think they can speak to us of our relationship with God just as well as the story of God in the form of a little child.

Who hasn’t, at one time or another, or even many times, wondered where the heck God is? Who hasn’t begged, “please God, come fix this!” Who hasn’t asked in prayer, “God, why aren’t you making your presence known?” Who hasn’t questioned if God even cares about us in the middle a crisis?

Personally, there are times I ask exactly the same questions Isaiah was asking. We read in the Bible of the Red Sea parting to allow the people of Israel to escape, of God’s appearance to Hagar as she fought death in the wilderness, of all the miracles Jesus performed. Isaiah pleads,

“O that you would tear open the heavens and come down, so that the mountains would quake at your presence— as when fire kindles brushwood and the fire causes water to boil—to make your name known to your adversaries, so that the nations might tremble at your presence! When you did awesome deeds that we did not expect, you came down, the mountains quaked at your presence.”

Isaiah’s saying, “Come on God. You used to do all these big things for our ancestors. Maybe people wouldn’t be sinning so much if you were doing that kind of thing now. Big gestures, that’s what we need! Mountains trembling!”

There are many times when I want a big gesture, an obvious miracle, a big flashing neon sign of God’s presence and action in the world.

Tomorrow, December 1, is World AIDS Day. 2008 marks the 20th anniversary of the recognition of the day to bring awareness to the HIV/AIDS crisis. Now, here I’m going to admit my youth: I grew up knowing about AIDS. I have few memories before the time when AIDS was known and named. I don’t believe I ever thought it’d be the epidemic it has grown to now, however. In developing areas of the world, AIDS is destroying whole countries of people. Millions of children are being left orphaned by AIDS, and often are fighting and dying of the disease themselves. Even here in the United States, one of the most educated and wealthy countries in the world, the Center for Disease Control estimates that in 2006, there were 56,300 people newly infected with HIV. That adds to more than one million estimated people already infected as of 2003, of whom about 25% --one quarter—were unaware of their infection.

Panels are still being added to the AIDS Memorial Quilt, now over 1.2 million square feet in size. If you were to spend one minute looking at each panel of the quilt, it would take you over 33 days to see the whole thing.

Where is God?

During this past week, we watched as a tragedy unfolded in Mumbai, India. Multiple attacks were carried out, including one at a Jewish center which killed a rabbi and his wife and left their two year old son orphaned. As of the most recent count, almost 200 people have died, and more than 300 are injured.

Where is God?

Over the last few years we’ve seen people and places devastated by natural disasters: fires, hurricanes, earthquakes, a tsunami.

Where is God?

In the ongoing worldwide financial catastrophe, we’ve watched as our friends, neighbors, and family members have lost jobs, as people struggle to find work, to make ends meet, to simply put food on the table.

Where is God?

[PAUSE.]

Isaiah reminds us, as he reminds God, “O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand.”

Kate Huey, in her reflection on these texts writes, “No matter how bad things are, we are reminded that we belong to God, that all the earth belongs to God, and we believe that God breaks into this reality regularly.”

Isaiah was looking for grand gestures. We often hope for the same. Sometimes we get it: the end of apartheid might be one example, or the peace accord in Northern Ireland.

But more often than not, the Divine breaks into the earthly realm with far more subtlety.
This is Advent, remember? A time to remember God’s manner of incarnation. The people at the time of Jesus’ birth were expecting something big from the coming Messiah.

Instead God broke into the world through a young poor unknown woman named Mary, who gave birth to a boy-child not in the comfort of a palace as people expected, but in a stable or a cave. Simple. Humble. Unassuming.

Remember when Jesus gives his first teaching? “Who is this?” the crowds say. “Isn’t that just Joseph’s son?” Not the Messiah they were looking for, it was supposed to be someone important, not the neighborhood kid.

In the reading from Mark’s Gospel today, Jesus reminds us to keep alert, pay attention.

Perhaps this Advent there will be no Miracle on 34th Street (or Wall Street, for that matter). No angels appearing to shepherds on a starry hillside or to depressed men like George Bailey. No mountains trembling.

But, as Talitha Arnold writes, “God answered the demand, ‘Let your face shine that we might be saved,’ though not as anyone expected. Not in a return to the glory days of the past, but in the light of the Child born in Bethlehem, the light the darkness has never overcome.”

I believe that so too God will answer our demands of action, our pleas for presence, but it may not be in the way we want or expect. We may have to wait longer than we’d hoped. And in order to recognize it, especially in the chaos of the Christmas season, we’ll need to be aware, keep alert, pay attention.

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For All The Saints

It's All Saints' Day (for another 2 hours anyway), a day to remember all those who have gone before us. I didn't pull out the prayer shawl I made for my thesis project, but I am in particular remembering the women saints in my family, and even more specifically my grandmother, Edna Ruth, who passed away four years ago. I've been sewing a lot the last couple weeks, and she was a prolific sewer. She made much of her own clothing, and many items for her seven children. She passed the skill on to her only daughter, my mom, who then in turn taught (and continues to teach) me.

As I feel the texture of the fabric moving under my fingertips and hear the motor of the sewing machine, I remember my grandmother. I think about who she was, and that perhaps I never really got to know who Edna the person was outside of Edna my Grammy. I think about her strong faith life, and wonder about her relationship with God. I ruminate that certain common words and phrases--"cuppa tea," "Down by the Station" and of course, "Pennsyl-vain-I-A!"-- that drove us a little crazy with their repetition when she was alive now serve as reminders of her, and most likely will serve as links to the next generation.

When my grandmother died, my mom inherited all her fabric. Much of it is polyester suiting that we're trying to figure out what to do with, but there are also a good deal of cottons, which my mom and I tend to favor. Often I'll look through my mother's stash for something, and hold up a piece that catches my eye. "Yes, I like that too," my mom will say. "That's a Grammy fabric." As I run my fingers over it, I know that Grammy had done the same, that it too had caught her eye, and I feel the connection through time.


Tonight I'll go to bed thinking of Grammy and all the other women to whom I'm connected, who surround me in a cloud of witnesses. Blessed be.

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For My Sisters in the DRC

The cost of Sarah Palin's wardrobe. Joe the Plumber. The amount of money Sarah Palin's makeup artist is paid. Anger at political signs being vandalized. Etc., etc. These are the things getting tons of publicity these days. Sure, there's also talk about the ups and mostly downs of the Dow, and of course day-by-day watching of "the polls." Oh, and the World Series.

What's not being talked about is what's going on in the Democratic Republic of Congo, and I'm the first to admit I had no idea what was going on. I heard a word here or there about a "Congo week" to raise awareness. One friend on Facebook had a status one day that said she was turning off her cell phone for the DRC. Only days later did I find out why (a key component of cell phones is mined there).

I think Eve Ensler writes about what's going on over there, particularly to the women, best here. Please read it carefully, and then consider these two statements:

"Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly." --Martin Luther King, Jr.

"Thou shalt not be a victim. Thou shalt not be a perpetrator. Above all, thou shalt not be a bystander." --Holocaust Museum, Washington, DC

If we do nothing, we are not remaining neutral or "minding our own business." Doing nothing to stop violence and oppression is the same as helping those doing it.

A few years ago, I saw the film Hotel Rwanda. I left the theater and walked through Harlem to my apartment with tears streaming down my face. It was not simply the events of the film or the Rwandan genocide itself that touched me, but the anguish of the terrified people wondering why no one was coming to help them, wondering why, if the people in Europe and the US knew what was happening, they did nothing. It touched me because I knew we had not learned. It had happened during the Holocaust. It had happened with the Khmer Rouge. And, at the time the movie was released, the same thing was going on right then in the Sudan (and still is).

And now the DRC.

The question is, why? Is it because the stories that come out of these places are so atrocious we cannot believe it could possibly be that bad? Is it because these people are Other--they're not like us, so we don't really care that much--or, as Ms. Ensler suggests, because much of the violence is done against women?

I don't know. I do know that I can no longer say I didn't know about it. And if you're reading this, neither can you. And now that I know...it feels like one of those situations where there's nothing I can do.

But I can tell you, and I can tell others, and so can you. Spread the word. Offer it up during prayer requests at your church. Mention it to your friends. Forward this post and any others you find about it. Together we can make sure no one says they didn't know. That's the first step.

Then, maybe after election day, start contacting your government officials. Contact the ones in office now AND the newly elected. Make sure those who are in office until January do whatever they can in the next two months to help stop this, and make sure those coming in to office know you want them to make the conflict in the DRC a priority right off the bat.

And perhaps most importantly, make this pledge for yourself: "I will not stand by."

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Out of the Mouths of Babes

Today I was babysitting a little boy. He's three, and his name is Finn. Let me also state that he is white, as is, with very few exceptions, his surrounding community. He was building with his Legos, when all of a sudden he said, "Marack Obama has two children, and he wants to be president."

I was a little stunned. "Yes," I said, "Barack Obama does have two little girls, and he does want to be president."

He rattled on a little bit more about it, and then said, "I'd like Barack Obama to be president. I'd like to give him a big hug." Thinking perhaps he said he had given him a hug, I asked him to clarify. "No," he emphasized, "I want to give him a hug."

Later, while watching a recording of "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!" from this past week, he glanced up during a commercial and said, "That's Barack Obama!" And he was right.

When his mom got home, I told her what had gone on. She told me that they watched the news (she's a news anchor and her husband also works in television) and would point out, "Oh, that's John McCain; oh, that's Barack Obama." She said at one point Finn told her he liked Barack Obama. When she asked him why, he said, "Because he's comfy."

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Wednesday Grammar Gripe

Excuse me for a moment while I get up on my soapbox.

Ok, people, seriously. I know that I'm a grammar nerd. I accept the fact that most people are not going to hold themselves to the high grammatical standard to which I hold myself. I understand that how we speak in casual conversation is different than how we might write a formal paper, for example.

That being said, I urge English and Language Arts teachers across America to stress the difference between LESS and FEWER. Again, casual conversation is one thing. But I have seen a plethora of misuse of these words in advertising and corporate settings lately.

Before I go into the examples, let's have a little grammar review. We use less to describe uncountable quantities, or the degree of something. The item described is usually singular. We use fewer to describe things that can be counted, and they're usually plural. So for example, we'd say less money, but fewer dollars; fewer hours but less time. Got it?

Ok, so it started at my bank in NY, Washington Mutual. They had a new advertising campaign (nicknamed the "whoo hoo" campaign) and a bunch of flashy new posters all over the walls. One said something to the effect of, "More benefits. Less hassles." Every time I went in, I would stare at that poster and get annoyed. I almost filled out a feedback form about it. Eventually, they moved on in the campaign and removed those posters. I wondered, though, how such a huge error could have made it that far?

Then there's the cable broadcast network TNT. In their promos for the movies they air, their new tagline is "More movie. Less commercials." See the problem? Fewer commercials. Fewer. Makes me not want to watch TNT. Who is writing these things--and who's letting them air?!?

Finally, last night I saw a print advertisement with not one but TWO incorrect uses! The ad is in the Good Housekeeping insert, Your Good House, and is for Culligan water filtration systems. Under the first picture, it states (bold mine): "SAVE ENERGY by using filtration systems that dramatically extend the life of your appliances, conserve water and allow for less detergents." Then, under the next picture, the caption reads: "USE LESS CHEMICALS AND CUT CLEANING TIME by installing a high-efficiency water softener..." Ugh.

Please, I'm begging all those in the advertising and all other media industries: use correct grammar! This is not so -called high-education complicated stuff, like using "whom" or not ending a sentence with a preposition. I get that those can sometimes just sound too stuffy and wordy in the "quick and dirty" world of media. But less and fewer are not interchangeable, and saying "fewer commercials" takes up one more syllable than "less" and does not make it sound stuffy, just makes it seems like the company actually knows English.

I'll step down from my soapbox now. Have a good day.

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Working Without a Net. Or, Sewing Without a Pattern

Well, ok, I didn't really sew without a pattern. But I didn't use a commercial or any other kind of already-created pattern. I made my own! From scratch. Just me, an idea, a pencil, and a big roll of brown paper.

I started with something fairly simple, but even so realized as I was drawing that there were lots of steps to consider. Which pieces would get sewn together first? Right or wrong sides together? How do I make sure I cut the pattern pieces so that the fabrics face each other correctly? Is the sizing right? If I want to include a "stuffing," how do I do that?

The reasoning behind not using someone else's pattern is copyright law. I want to make these and sell them, and I can't do that if I go to JoAnn's and buy a Simplicity pattern for them.

So without further ado...

It's a bib! The front is a cotton paisley; the back is denim. I say front and back, but it's really reversible. Both fabrics are in their second lives, having previously been part of other things. The neck closes with a hook-and-loop closure (aka Velcro). Here it is being modeled on a stuffed mouse.

The end result is a little smaller than I'd hoped, but it'd definitely work for a young (under 6 mo) infant. Otherwise...I like it! I need more practice sewing curves, and I'm going to experiment with other sizes, neck closures, shapes, material (something more absorbent?) and maybe even some fun designs for holidays. If they get good enough, I'll set up a shop on http://www.etsy.com/, a website for handmade goodies.

If it gets to that point, I'll need models other than the mouse (although she is cute). So, if you've got a baby who wears bibs and are willing to allow me to use his/her image wearing the bib, let me know. You'll get a free bib AND the style will be named after your baby! How cool is that?

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Sophie blogging

As promised, here are some pictures of our newest family member, Sophie. She is an absolute joy. She's sweet and funny and not too mischevious for a kitten (at about 6 months, she basically a teenager cat-wise). There's no way to be depressed around her--either she'll come knead us and purr as loud as a truck motor, or she'll do something totally silly and make us laugh. She's big into physical comedy: falling off things, doing somersaults, playing hide-and-seek, daintily investigating soap bubbles with her paw...Today she had me laughing so hard I was crying! Dad's mentioned Sophie coming with me when I leave, but I think he's gotten too attached. I don't know though, she's pretty attached to me, too...

This is the day after we adopted her, just over a month ago.

She loves sitting in the window...

...or just leaning on her "elbows" to observe the birds, chipmunks, and falling leaves.

Here she is meeting my nephew Caleb for the first time. She got right up and sniffed his head!

Then she decided his baby seat was a pretty comfy spot, with a bonus of fun toys hanging on it.

I think we're already at the point (I am, anyway) where it feels like she's always been a part of the family!

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Happy Birthday to My Blog!

So although I actually started my blog in May of 2006, I consider October to be my anniversary, because it was at this time last year that I really started regularly writing (I had 4 posts total in 2006). Although "regularly" might be taken with a grain of salt, I'm learning not to take small steps for granted. Slowly but surely it progresses. Last month by far had my highest number of visits to date, which broke the record previously held by August. It's happening, little by little. In the past year I had successes like people I didn't know finding my little musings and making comments, being invited to write on a group blog, and having a post published at another publication (the most fun part about that is now if you Google "feminist pastor" my post comes up first!). I'm starting to realize that each post does not have to be long, involved, researched, and deep. Some may be that way, sure, but some might only be a sentence or two long. I just need to be disciplined about writing something until it becomes second nature.

Anyway, happy birthday, Sunlight and Shadows. May the next year bring even more ruminations, new friends and visitors, and lots of success! Let's celebrate!

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Forget "To Do"

I'm a big fan of "to do" lists. I make them all the time. At the moment, I have three: sewing projects to be done, general "needs to be done at some point soon," and my list of things to do this week. Those are the written ones, plus I have one running in my head for things I'd like to get done today.

However, I'm going to switch it up a little. I often get a little anxious when thinking about those lists, and often many things are left undone, while others not on the list somehow are accomplished. Yes, I'll admit to sometimes adding those actions just to cross them off. There is definite satisfaction in that drawing that line through a word or two. Today instead of stressing about what I did not get done in the past few days that I wanted to, I'd like to share my "GOT DONE" list. Perhaps we'd all feel a little bit better about ourselves if we made lists like this!

GOT DONE:

• Emptied out closet in sewing room in preparation for the creation of Dad's recording studio
• With Mom, threw out two carloads worth of junk
• Dropped off a whole bunch of stuff at the thrift store
• Vacuumed closet and area directly in front of it
• Did 5+ loads of laundry--washed, dried, and folded--most of which was fabric
• Completed two rows in a crocheted cat blanket for the Humane Society
• Read 48 pages of Anne of Green Gables
• Interviewed for a steady babysitting job
• Met with a couple whose wedding I'm officiating while picking a peck of apples
• Made two loaves of beer bread
• Moved bookshelf from sewing room into Mom's room and the bookshelf from there into living room, and unpacked DVDs and videos onto shelves
• Watched 6 unlabeled tapes to see what they were and threw out 5
• Cleaned up fallen tree in backyard
• Sorted through and tried on some clothes in closet to see what to keep and what to get rid of
• Stripped and re-made my bed
• Sorted through old mail and cleared off part of dining room table

Yeah...when I look at it like that, I've gotten a heck of a lot accomplished! I feel much better...

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New addition

After a couple months of not having a cat (since our cat Isabella wandered away at the beginning of July), my parents decided it was time to adopt again. We went down to the Greater Nashua Humane Society and poked around in their many rooms of cats. In the third tier of cages just inside the door was our new cat. We actually walked right by her when we first came in. Her name is Sophie, and she's black and white, and four months old. We considered getting two--they have a "two-for-one" cat special due to an enormous overflow of felines--but decided Sophie would do for now. It was hard to leave with just her, but nice to see many families stopping in while we were there. And I know Sophie will have a wonderful home. As soon as I have a place of my own, I'll be heading down to the local shelter myself to adopt some animal family members.

I'll post pictures as soon as I find the cord to my camera. So far, Sophie seems to be taking to her new home just fine, although at the moment she's sleeping/hiding under the recliner. I think she got a little overwhelmed.

This was my second time at the Humane Society (my first being when I reported Izzy missing) and it's a great place. I think given all my current free time that I might volunteer there. My mom and I also noticed that a lot of the cats were sleeping on mini-afghans in their cages, so we may make use of our overflow of yarn to keep the kitties comfy while they wait to be adopted.

I urge any of you who have some extra love to go around to consider adopting a pet from a no-kill shelter, particularly a cat. The economy hits our furry friends especially hard when their families are forced to give them up, and our humane society has literally hundreds of cats. And of course, as Bob Barker says, spay and neuter your pets!

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On Sale: Authenticity

A few days ago, my Feminist Top Ten list was posted on Fidelia's Sisters, a publication of the Young Clergy Women's Project. I just re-read it, and in light of what's going on in my life the last month or so, came to a big realization about myself: I just cannot live as a fake.

My number one reason to not hide my "crazy feminism" was that I believe in living authentically. Which I do. But most days, I just don't see that play out much. And really, what I realized tonight is that I don't just believe in living authentically, I actually find it pretty much impossible to try and be someone or something I'm not.

Yesterday I gave my two-weeks' notice at my part-time job. I've had the job for just about a month. It's in retail, and offers correspondingly low pay, but the employee discount is great and I told myself I'd be able to get some good, professional, "ministerial-chic" clothes while earning enough to pay bills while I'm searching for a church.

I considered, while putting in applications at the mall, just how much I've come to dislike malls--and all that they represent--in the past couple years. I can handle them in short doses, am not opposed to them, and yes, sometimes even enjoying shopping in them. That being said, in the last couple years I have become much more anti-consumerist, for many reasons: the environment, financial aspects, immoral production practices, loving things more than loving life, etc. I even committed to the Compact for a few months.

I figured it wouldn't be that bad, only a few months, and it'd take no energy away from what I really need to do, which is finishing my ministerial profile and finding a real job.

I was wrong.

The store for which I work is more into selling than some others I've experienced. No one gets commission, but there is always a push to get a customer to buy more more more. And always, there's the push to open the store credit card. We hadn't opened any in a few days this week, and our managers were not happy. I was being bribed with free candles and free coffee if I got someone to open a card. We're even being threatened with being "written up" if not every single associate got a card.

I started getting a sour feeling in my stomach every time I thought about going to work. Not only was I pushing consumerism on others, but it was rubbing off on me! I think I've already spent my earnings, even with my discount (although the well-fitting suit was definitely needed), and was beginning to covet various items in the store, many that I can't afford, all of which I don't need!

I finally came to the conclusion that I couldn't do it anymore. I just couldn't work in a place that went so much against my values. Now, to be honest, I also decided that they weren't paying me enough to make it ok, and I think I should do a little reflection on how much I believe living authentically is worth.

So, before the month is over I'll again be unemployed. I'm going to really push myself to get my profile done, and probably look for another part-time job, as well as try to get some odd jobs like babysitting and editing. Hey, maybe I'll try for some writing gigs as well.

I'm not too worried though, because I know that as crazy as some people might think I am for doing this, and as stressed as being broke might make me in the coming weeks, I know that I am not compromising my values, my truth. I am not just believing in living authentically, I am living authentically.

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Prayers for New Orleans

I'll get to the autumn post later. Right now, I have a bigger concern. Hurricane Gustav is heading for the Gulf of Mexico, having already hit Haiti and probably hitting Cuba on its way today. It's expected to gain strength over the warm waters, and make landfall in the US anywhere between Florida and Texas. That puts New Orleans most likely right in its path. Needless to say, residents there are worried.

I am too. Not only because I know that three years is not nearly enough time to erase memories and anxieties of the trauma of Katrina (having lived in NYC the last four years, I am quite aware of the reaction to a low-flying plane or unexplained smoky air), but also because having spent time in New Orleans this past January, and engaged many of its residents, I feel a deep connection to that wonderfully unique city.

I also know from my time there that New Orleans has only begun to move from recovery to renewal, and the prospect of having much of that wiped away is just plain scary. This photo was taken from inside the home I was helping to construct for a family, of their street, lined with FEMA trailers. For many, FEMA trailers are the only homes people have now. They are certainly not designed to withstand a strong hurricane.

So on the anniversary of the day people woke up after Katrina hit and mistakenly thought they'd be made it through the worst of it, the people of New Orleans are in my prayers. May you be comforted, may you be protected, and may you be safe.

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