Your Hero or Mine?

Last week there was a lot of news about Caitlyn Jenner.

 As expected there are many ideas and opinions about her and how she is approaching this transition in her life.   I personally have been so fascinated with this story that I have read a fair amount of what has been written, and I have watched anything that I knew was addressing her story.  (I suppose you could say I am one of the people that the media is catering to in putting so much out there.)  Most of what I have seen and read has been useful.  By useful I mean that it helps me see things from a point of view other than my own.

However, there is one sentiment I have seen that makes me feel compelled to speak out.

There have been several posts on Facebook that show a picture of a military image, a veteran, or a soldier that have said something along the lines of, ‘With all the talk of Caitlin Jenner, let’s remember what real bravery is/who the real heroes are.’ 

I realize that many people agree with this.  I also realize that those who don’t agree may just turn away from it.  I however, have repeatedly felt compelled to speak about the message this puts forth.

First let me say that calling Caitlyn Jenner brave does not detract from the bravery of anyone else.  It is in the realm of the possible to see Caitlyn’s actions as brave AND see the actions of any number of other people as brave as well.  A person who is looking for their own courage, their own source of bravery can look at Caitlyn Jenner and call her their hero without it taking any bravery away from your heroes.  

Some people may believe only one form of bravery can exist.  That the bravery of a woman who is in the midst of a gender transition cannot co-exist with the bravery of a soldier or veteran who fights/fought for freedom.

In the past several decades we have begun to move beyond thinking that there can only be one way.  We have begun to recognize the reality that maybe a person can be in science and have faith in God.  We recognize that the way you read a book and interpret it may be vastly different than how another person interprets it.  Some of us even recognize that this can be true of scripture.  In fact people even recognize that the way they understood a passage of scripture 5 years ago may be different than how they see that same passage today.  There is room in the world for variety and diversity.  Even among our heroes.

 That brings me to my next point.  This is what has me so bothered by all those posts.  You see when you say, “This is REAL bravery,” or, “These are the REAL heroes,” it also sends the message that those are the only forms of bravery and heroes.  Yes you get your point out that you see Caitlyn Jenner as neither brave nor a hero.  You also discount many other forms of bravery, and many heroes that have never ever worn a uniform or even held a weapon.  

Yes, there is no doubt in my mind that soldiers, sailors, airmen, marines, etc., are often brave and honorable people.

But please do not insinuate that their's is the only bravery that counts, or that military heroes are the only ones that exist.

I see bravery every day in a million ways. 

My older sister and my best friend who take chemo regularly KNOWING that they will never be cured of the cancer that is trying to destroy them, are brave.

The children who face school every day knowing they will never learn like other people and will never be the kind of ‘smart’ the world looks up to, are brave. 

The single parents who struggle every day to be enough, do enough, earn enough, they are brave.

Bravery exists in a million forms, and yes I think that Caitlyn Jenner is brave.  I doubt I would have the courage to do what she has done if I were in her shoes.  Instead I would probably keep myself trapped in a false life that would eventually wear me down to a shell of a person.  Yet that does not mean that I think my brother, who was an Army Ranger and is now a police sergeant, is any less brave than I did a month ago.  He risks his life every day for other people’s safety.  That is brave.  It takes courage.  My thinking Caitlyn Jenner is brave does not diminish that.

I can also see that for millions of people out there who have no idea how to find their own voice, Caitlyn Jenner might very well be a hero.  That does not make someone like Noah Galloway any less a hero to the people who watched him prove to the world that a ‘disabled’ vet with PTSD could overcome those labels and do anything he wanted.

When you say that military people are the ‘real’ heroes, you offend me as well.  Not a single one of the people I consider my ‘heroes’ have ever been in the military.  The people I admire as heroes fought wars without force, but with kindness, love, and knowledge instead.   In fact my greatest hero lived about 2,000 years ago for a brief 33 years.  Jesus never fought in a military battle, he never received accolades from a nation, and yet he is literally my hero, saving me from a meaningless, empty life.   

You do not have to like Caitlyn Jenner.  You do not have to approve of her.  I pray she no longer feels the need for approval from the public.  Though a little respect, for her and the people who see her as a hero, would go a long way.  

This morning I was standing at my bathroom mirror putting on make-up, when an older Steven Curtis Chapman song came on Pandora. 

Instantly I was transported back.

We’ve all head those moments right?  When a smell, a sound, a touch, or a taste sends us back to a specific time and place and we almost relive the experience again.

For me it was to my cousin Garrett’s funeral.  It was the background music as we watched the photos capturing his short life.  Snapshots of his infant face scrunched up, his first smile, his first step, his first birthday, bike, game, football, etc.  All the firsts marched across the scene, but ending before all the firsts were even met.  The fun photos were there, the prankster in training, the loving child, the naked toddler bum beneath the cowboy chaps and gun holster.  The heart-wrenching photo of Garrett with our Grandfather (who had been gone for nearly 7 years by this time) with their love for each other and us a nearly tangible thing. 

The pictures kept coming.  Hauling with them that infuriating mix of emotions; the laughter, the joy, the sadness, the ache, the regret, and the anger.  It all just kept rolling over the room as tears and laughter mingled into the sound of shared grief.

Under it all were those amazing words. 'We can say goodbye with hope."

It has been years since the song has stirred the same visceral reaction that it did that day.  Yet this morning it did.  I think it may have been powerful today because I heard it in a slightly different way than I have in the past.

Does that happen to you?  Do you know why?

I don’t know.  I am grateful, but I don’t know what made the difference this morning, or really even WHAT that difference was.  I just know it was different somehow.

It could have be knowing now a different reality of hopes and dreams that could never be.  Maybe it is having a better grasp on questioning God’s plan and WHY terrible things happen. Perhaps it is seeing the wonderful men that his brothers have become and wondering what he would be like, and exactly how much the lurking shadow of grief has helped shape them. 

Truthfully I am not sure what this post is about.  Is it about my cousin?  Is it about me and how the deaths in my life have shaped me?  Is it about how grief never stops it just morphs into a new phase? Is it about the way life seems to loop around and bring us back to the same places (figuratively or literally) with a new perspective. 

I don’t know. 

I just know I heard a song that took me back.  And it was different, and somehow new.

And it was so very beautiful.

 

 

 

 

 

Steven Curtis Chapman: "Say Goodbye With Hope"  This link will, I hope, take you to a youtube video of the song.

I am a dork.

I just am.  

I wish I wasn’t, but I am. 

I try not to be, but I am.

I work on trying to be cool and not a dork, but I am.

My latest act of extreme dorkiness has me still pink with the shame and embarrassment of my incredibly naïve, sheltered, privileged, dorkiness.

I went to see Pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber in Grand Forks at an event titled Outrageous Faith.  

After being actively engaged through laughter, after nodding in agreement until I looked like a bobble head, and after finding a new level of respect for what I don’t agree with, I waited in line to meet her.  

And have her sign her book.

Oh, but wait, the book I had already ordered and received was sitting on a table at home two hours away.  So I first stood in line to buy another book.  And instead of buying one book, having her sign it and then trade books with my friend who had gone with me, I bought two books.  That way we could each have a signed copy.  Besides, what good pastor doesn’t need two copies of a book that is hilarious, easy to understand, AND theologically sound and Lutheran.  That doesn’t happen often.  

Yes, this is enough to make me a dork, but sadly it is not the dorktacular move of the evening.  

No, I waited in another line for that.  

As I waited to meet her, I gushed about how much I really like and respect her.  I went on and on about how amazing she is.  And in my head I thought and thought and thought about how to express my gratitude for who and what she is to the Lutheran church in particular and more importantly to the Church, without sounding like a certifiably crazy stalker.  

(I am of course a crazy stalker, but I did not want to sound that way.)

When I got to the table I smiled, swallowed down my giddiness and blurted out, “As one of those born and breed Lutheran pastors, thank you for your unique voice.” As the words flew out of my mouth and I saw the slightly shocked expression on her face, the gracious smile and the even more gracious, “Thank You,” the 14 year old girl inside that always wanted to be cool cringed.  And the rest of my snarky self thought, “Really?  Really?  After hours and hours of thinking of what you would say, THIS is what you come up with?”

I suppose it was a decently abbreviated form of what I thought.  But it was not what I meant.

What I meant was;

“Thank you.  Thank you for being enough of an outsider in the Lutheran world that you see what is really Lutheran and what is not.  You see through the cultural trappings of upper-mid-western Scandinavian and German heritage.  You see through the often passive-aggressive fill-in-the-ota niceness (as in North Dakota nice) that means you politely thank someone for helping them in some way, and then immediately go to inform the pastor that that person can never work in this capacity again because they do it differently than 'we do it here'.  You see through the reserved nature of the ‘native’ Lutheran people’s hesitancy to change and their confusion of what is Church tradition and what is their congregation’s tradition.  You see through all of the crap, to the real heart of what it means to be Lutheran, that God’s love and grace is sufficient for all people in a way we could never even begin to grasp, let alone fully understand.

And I meant thank you for choosing to share that message.  Thank you for refusing to bow to the conventions of the cultural traditions.  Thank you for keeping your voice, so you can share that Lutheran message with people who are not born and breed in the mid-west culture that so often gets mis-represented as the Lutheran message.  Thank you for being you so you can share the God I know as a Lutheran pastor with all of those who have been hurt by this and other denominations.  Thank you for being who you are while embracing our message.  

Because by doing that you reach a group of people I never could. I in my culturally confused theological grasp of Luther’s teachings, could not share our message of hope with the world who needs it.   

I have no doubt that THE CHURCH will not only survive, but it will thrive.  I do however, believe that it will change.  It will change in a way that no one can predict.  It will change in a way that frankly, I am excited about.

And because you have come into the Lutheran world and remained enough of an outsider to embrace the heart of the message without letting it change the way you voice it to the world, because of that, our message will be part of that change.  

As I stand in the gap between the people you can reach, and the ones who are stuck in that culture wrapped Lutheran identity, I will do what I can to minister to the ones struggling to keep up.  I will fight to not lose those who remain rooted in the past and do not want the change that comes.  

But you, and all those who are like you, you will be the ones to mold the change.  To have an impact on whatever the Church begins to look like.  And because God has touched you through Lutheran practices, part of what the Church will look like is the message and hope of the Lutheran heart.  

So thank you for doing what I can’t.  

Thank you for following God’s call.

Thank you for working side by side, if only figuratively, with those of us who are trapped by the heritage and cultural confusion.

And thank you for ministering to me.”

That is more along the line of what I meant, but the giddy little girl who so wants to be friends with the cool and popular older girl got caught up in her own supposed importance and came out a blubbering mess.

So yes, I am a dork.

Yet, if there is one thing I have learned from Ms. Nadia Bolz-Weber, it is this: Be who you are, because God will work through that.  God is that capable. 

I have been reading Luke 24:13-35 the past couple of weeks in preparation for this Sunday. 
This beautiful story occurs right after the women share the news of the resurrection as two disciples journey from Jerusalem to Emmaus.  

I love the complexity of the story and Christ's presence with in it. 

It reminds me a lot of hiking. 


I grew up literally across the street from South Mountain Park in Phoenix AZ.  I went hiking all the time, of course we just thought of it as playing in our front yard.  As an adult I began hiking it more and more while staying with my dad.  I used different trails, and really began exploring the park.


The thing is, while you are on a trail, this is pretty much all you see...






It is still pretty and nice, but you just see what you have left in front of you to climb.  Occasionally you look up and look around and see this...








A nice sight, true.  Especially in the spring or early summer (in Arizona desserts that would be  Feb.-May).  Yet, still you are looking only at what lies ahead.

Yet when you finish the hike, and look back at where you have been.....

Wow!  The sight can be ...




amazing...





spectacular...



breathtaking...






But you have to finish the trail to see it. 

Even if you take a breath and turn around in the midst of the trail, the whole view will not be available to you.  You have to get though the climb first.  And then you have to look back at where you have been.  I am amazed every time at it all: the view, where I came from, how far I have come, all of it!


This morning I was listening to Narrative Lectionary podcast on the Luther Seminary site workingpreacher.org.  Mary Hinkle-Shore was saying that when we are kept from recognizing Christ on our journey through something, we are given the gift of being able to look back on the journey later and see how Jesus was with us. 

A pretty amazing way to look at it, but it drives home the point that you have to finish the journey first. 

Kind of like the hike.

Once you finish the climb you can look back and recognize how Jesus has been with you all along.


Unlike the hike however, this recognition is not based on our merit, or strength, or ability to power through.  The ability to recognize Christ comes from Jesus revealing himself to us. 

We don't control it.

We simply walk by faith. The same faith that God gives us.

It is scary and humbling.

When we as Christians get to the summits of our journeys, we look back and see that we had nothing to do with it.  It was all God.

Now that is an amazing view!





(Pictures are non-copyright pictures from City of Phoenix website.)

I saw this picture today on a friend's facebook page...







The power of it struck me breathless. 
My heart pounded.
My eyes watered.
My soul cried out a silent prayer that echoed across time.
            "Thank you God for reminding me."

I am where I am meant to be.  I have never doubted it. It has been confirmed over and over again in the two years I have lived out my calling in New Rockford.

Yet I have felt restless lately.  Restless and yet lethargic at the same time.  Bound by an old longing that is new everyday.  Haunted by a deep insecurity that makes me fear that longing will never be fulfilled.  The fear and insecurity are tethered to me like weights at times.  They keep me grounded, when I should be soaring.

I get this way around my birthday every year. 
One more year that I am single. 
One year closer to letting go of the hope of having children.

I say this not to look for sympathy. 
        I don't want that.
There is no need to say the normal comebacks; "You still have time.", "So and so didn't have kids until....", "Women in their forties are having babies all the time."
        These are not only not helpful, often they hurt more.

I simply state my reality. 
It is what it is. Normally.
But every now and then it lingers near the weak spots in my heart and threatens to overshadow the many blessings in my life. 

Most days I face life with energy, hope, and the knowledge that life the way it is is great.  I do love where I am and what God has called me to do.  I have no regrets about past choices, or the journey I am on. 

Then the loneliness creeps in like a fog. 

Though I never forget or question that I belong here, I do forget to breathe.  I freeze and let fear and insecurity take root in my lungs, and the breathe of God has no room to move.

When I saw this today, I was struck in the chest with the power of it.  The stagnant air forced out taking the fear with it.  Only beauty and hope remained.  And the Spirit poised on my lips awaiting my next breath. 

When I inhaled, I breathed in the life that Paul speaks of, "the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs to deep for words.' Romans 8:26

I know God has called me here.   Now, God, help me remember to breathe.  Amen.

When the Dust Settles

My entire adult life has been a series of changes and moves. I taught for about ten years, but never staying more than two years in one school. My housing changed at an even more frequent rate. If you count college I have lived in 17 places in the past 20 years. The number of times I have moved however is greater since I lived with my Dad and my sister in the same location several times before or after a transition or move.

Most people would get tired just by thinking about that uprooted lifestyle. There are advantages to it though. Everything is always new and therefore exciting. When you are changing that often you are constantly learning, which I love. Nothing gets routine or boring. To top it all off, you rarely have to dust.

For the first time in my life, I now find myself in one place for more than two years. And there is no plan to change this in the near future, or even the distant future that I see.

There is a wonderful sense of stability and rootedness that I am very unfamiliar with. I love knowing that I do not have to leave my friends and the congregation and the town that I have come to love so much. I love watching the children of First grow up before my eyes. I get excited when I think about the children who will be in confirmation with me in a few years. I get to plan what I want to do differently next Advent and next Christmas. I get to help vision with a group AND know that I will be here to see the visioning begin to take shape into reality. The house I live in can be completely decorated. I can paint the walls! I can even buy furniture that I want to keep longer than a year. It is all lovely and fun and new in a way. I love so much of my new reality.

I do not, however, love the dusting.

You see that is the problem with roots and stability. They come with dust. They come with monotony and ruts and routines that allow dust to settle and gather. It seems to happen overnight too. One day the house was as cluttered, messy, and scattered as my house always is (and yes always will be!). The next day there were dust bunnies growing on shelves and cobwebs dancing in the morning light.

At any other time in my life, I would have ignored it for another week or month and just dusted things as I packed them.

But I have no plans to pack anything for years, which meant that before the Christmas party I had for the congregation I had to break down. I had to dust. Ugh. And I will have to keep dusting. I suppose it is a part of stability and structure. Oh how I long for my unstable and transitional life when I hold the dustcloth!

In the past month I have learned that it is not just furniture and nick-nacks that need to be dusted either. It is often relationships too.

I have been so used to saying good-bye soon after getting to know people, that I have forgotten what a long-term relationship is like. Sure I have stayed friends with people over the years, but texts, emails, skype, and visits help you keep the newness of everything. You never seem to get tired of people. More importantly, people have less time to get tired of, or annoyed with, me.

I have had an uncomfortable lesson recently. Like the furniture and nick-nacks, the relationships that I have cultivated need to be picked up, wiped off, examined for problems, and maybe even moved to a new location. The behavior that helped lead two people into a friendship, can often become cloying and sticky creating dust bunnies that need to be brushed away. Like a house, relationships can become worn with time and constant use. They need to be brightened up, repaired, given a fresh coat of paint and treated in a new way to maintain their shine. When a room in the house becomes stagnant to me, I re-arrange it. Why wouldn’t the relationships I have here also need to be arranged differently from time to time?

I have become rooted, and I love it. I do not however want to become rutted. I do not want my life to become monotonous. More importantly I do not that for the relationships in my life. Distance, change, and new surroundings are no longer my ‘get-out-free clause’. I need to learn to maintain a place and a life for a long period of time, because this time I will still be here when the dust settles.

Faith, Hope, and Love.

Like many people I love these words.  I love them strung together just like this as a simple phrase that reminds us how to live.  They are beautiful, simple, and powerful.  They speak the heart of the Gospel without preaching.  

They are words that can mean so much when they become actions and are the basis of a well-lived life. 

Recently though, these words have become actual people to me.  (Now let me say that all of my family and friends poses these qualities.)  Yet recently I have been spending quite a bit of time with three other women who have come to embody these words.   They each act in all of these ways, but something in who they are speaks to one word so strongly that I can no longer separate the woman form the word.  

It helps that one of the women is named Faith.  I am sure that is how it started.  Every time I saw a piece of jewelry or home decoration with the word faith on it, I immediately thought of her.  Over time I began to watch her faith in action and I began to see the childlike nature of the faith she holds.  It is not childlike because it is immature or simplistic.  It is childlike because it simply IS.  She has no need to explain or defend her faith.  There is no trying to assure others of how strong her faith is.  It simply is who and what she is.  There is probably no tangible way to explain it.  The closest I come to even understanding it is to remember the absolute certainty I had that my parents would pick me up from day-care. When I think of Jesus telling the disciples that they need faith like a child’s, this is what I imagine it to be.

As I have spent more and more time with these women, I have come to see how it was this idea of faith, hope, love that has really bonded us together.  We all share a faith in God that has seen us through difficult times.  It was through our family of faith that we even began to spend time together.  And it has been through the battle one of these women is waging with cancer that we have all learned what real hope looks and acts like.  

So often in this world we confuse hope with a wish.  We ‘hope’ for many things; a good life; prince charming; money; a good grade on the test; etc.  Really what we are doing is wishing.  A wish might or might not happen.  It might not even be based in reality.  Often even if we get what we wish for we are disappointed.  A wish is based in the fairly-tale realm which we so often confuse with happiness.

Hope however is that slowly burning ember in the depths of who we are that God is constantly feeding.  It never says life will be perfect, or happily ever after.  Hope says, “Take my hand.  You are not alone.  I will bring you through one more day.”  Hope speaks of truth and blessing not sunsets and spells.  Hope has become personified in my life by a woman who says, “life is good,” when so much seems to be wrong.  Hope is finding life and joy where the world might see pain and despair. 

When life get s a little overwhelming the four of us will gather, often with wine, to bolster each other up against life’s storms.  Not often do we actually vocalize the words of faith and hope, but they are ever present in our gatherings.  The one word of this trio that is spoken with frequency is love.  

You see the third of these ladies is one of those people who sees the good in everyone and loves them for that good.  No matter who it is on the complaining block that night, we have come to learn that words of love will be spoken about them before the night is over.  It would be wrong to assume that she never sees a persons faults or flaws.  It is that reality that makes this woman such an example of love.  She loves people despite their flaws, even when those flaws trample on her life.  

It is likely you will see us often together; Faith, Hope, Love, and I.  Learning from each other and strengthening the lives we touch, I pray.

You may wonder what role it is that I have in this group?  I wonder that often myself.  

        With these three I abide; Faith, Hope, and Love,

        May you be blesses with the same.

Do you ever feel like God is really trying to get your attention?

I have had that feeling over the past couple of weeks.

As I have been attempting to settle into my life her in New Rockford, I have been recieving many cards and gifts as encouragement, welcome, and congratulations. It is always wonderful to have such a warm and inviting welcome. It is nice to have so many people reach out and let you know that they are happy for you. It is helpful to have countless people affirm your place in the world. And it has been in the mix of all of these warm wishes that I have noticed God really trying to get a message to me.

You might think it is merely coincidence. I however take it as confirmation that I am where I am meant to be.

You see I recieved a lovely card that had a nice poem on it. The next day, I received two more of the same card. A few days latter another one of the same card was in the mail. This pattern continued and I now have 8 of these cards from various people in four different states.

Sure, there might be a limited number of inspirational cards. Absolutely everyone who sent them loves me and might be biased. Yes, it is a great sentiment that many people would be attracted to.

However, I feel God nudge me every time I open an envelope and see the blue and green card. There was one given to me at my ordination when I was so excited I could see no problems ahead (only for that brief time I assure you!). There was one in my mailbox the first time I opened it. There was one from the congregation I came to. There was one the day I came home so overwhelmed that I felt physically dizzy. There was one the day I got home after leading a funeral for the first time.

The message pops up often. I see God behind it every time it does. Thanks be to God!



I hope all of you read this and know that it is meant for YOU as well!


Dayspring for Hallmark
Poem by Roy Lessin

Just think...
you're here not by chance,
but by God's choosing.
His hand formed you
and made you the person you are.

He compares you to no one else-
you are one of a kind.
You lack nothing that
His grace can't give you.

He has allowed you to be here
at this time in history
to fulfill His special purpose
for this generation.

You are God's servent
in God's place
at God's perfect time.

I preached a great sermon yesterday.

Well I participated in a great sermon yesterday.

Actually there was a little idea on the workingpreacher.org website that I held up to the congregation, and it was a wonderful cooperative time of learning.

I had very little to do with it.

However it was such a neat insight that I wanted to share it with you.

Buried in one of the commentaries that I read was a simple statement alluding to the idea that we focus so much on Jesus during the season of Christmas that we do not look at what we learn about God the Father through God the Son.1

The idea really struck me as being very relevant. Don't we learn about parents by watching their children? As a former teacher I know that to be very true. Isn't that why we try to distance ourselves from the disisions they make that we don't like. True I don't have children of my own, but I can still see this behavior in myself. Even with my nieces I do this. Just the other day I found myself saying to another person in the play area at the mall, "They dressed themselves today." Effectively saying, "I had nothing to do with that clothing choice."

Of course in reality I did. I have always encouraged them to feel free to voice their opinions and preferences with me. (If I now regret that at times, I have no one to blame but myself.) Yet in 15 years, when they are able to speak their mind, and have the confidence to stand up to opposition, I will be proud that I helped influence that ability in them.

Yes, we can learn a lot about the adults in a child's life by watching that child.

The same can be said of Jesus. Isn't that the very reason that He was sent to this world, to reveal the very real presence of God in our lives? We learn about God the Parent through watching God the Son. The compassion, the sacrifice, the unending, redeeming, unconditional love that Christ shows in His life, that come through the John 1:1-18 passage about Christ are reflections of the love of the heavenly Father.

Yes we can learn a lot about God the Parent by looking at God the Son.

I encourage you to spend the next three years looking at the lectionary through that lens.

Blessings and Wonder be yours this year!

1. Lewis, Caroline. Commentary on Second Reading for January 2, 2011, Ephesians 1:3-14. workingpreacher.org.

The stark reality that 2010 is over has not quite hit me yet.

I have not written the date yet.

I have not even seen the full date yet.

I have started this day in much the same way I have started everyday since completing my internship and returning to Phoenix.

I have continued in similar habits and activities (including finding a coffee shop so I can work in the familiar environment of busy-ness.)

I keep thinking, "Maybe I should come up with a New Year's resolution."

After all, isn't that why we have them? When we really get down to the heart of whatever we swear we will do differently, doesn't it all come down to the fact that making a change in our lives is the only real way we can actually grab hold of the passing of another year and the entrance into a new one.

Yet if a noticeable, tangible change is what is required for me to recognize the passing of time, I am not sure that I will need a resolution for that.

Tomorrow is a big day for me. Tomorrow a vote is being taken that may change my life in thousands of ways. Even if tomorrow does not go the way I would like it to, the same changes will eventually come my way.

Let's just assume everything will go the way I would like it to.

In that case, I will be planning a move to North Dakota within the next month.

I will begin a call as a pastor of a congregation.

I will embrace a new title, a new home, a new life.

It is all a little daunting, a little intimidating, and a lot exciting.

I could resolve to exercise more.

I could plan on keeping up on correspondence.

I could say I would eat healthier.

I could attempt to actually write a blog entry once a week, or even once a day.

I could pray more, walk more, read more, worry less, listen more, talk less, or stress out less.

Seriously though, do I need one more change coming my way? And which of the above is not going to be accomplished simply by the nature of the huge changes coming my way?

Yes if a change of some kind is what marks the passage of time for us, I think my New Year is well taken care of.

I only pray that the changes that meet you this year are as wonderful and life affirming as the ones rising up to meet me.

Happy New Year!

I had a great opportunity the other day. I went to Tucson with a friend of mine who works at Fuller Theological Seminary Southwest. I got to spend time with her and encourage others to go to seminary in general and Fuller in particular. Overall it was wonderful, but one part captured my nostalgia and reminded me of what a long journey becoming a pastor truly has been.

We spent Tuesday night with the Presbyterian Campus Ministry group at the University of Arizona.

Different School. Different decade. Different denomination.

Yet so many things were the same.

The enthusiasm, the passion, the talents and abilities that come out so strongly when young people are not only able to, not only encouraged to, but expected to lead.

Watching the girl who provided an amazing meal, the young woman who was so refreshingly childlike in her acceptance and ability to make people feel welcome and at home, the boys goofing around during dinner change into men as they set up for worship and sat down to lead the music, reminded me of my days at Lutheran Campus Ministry of Northern Arizona University.

Yet there was more than the personalities, activities, and actions that called out to me and my memory. There was an intangible feeling among the relationships that we witnessed. A sense of community, of mutual understanding, of love, that I instantly felt connected to. As if I belonged there. As if I had never left my campus ministry.

We can claim it is that sense of nostalgia. We can pass it off as a similar setting, situation, or climate. Some might even claim it is a desire to recapture a youth that I left behind upon graduating in 1997.

The truth however, is so much stronger than any of that. The truth is that it is the Spirit running through that group of people that I responded to. It was the familiarity of the Body of Christ that called out to me. It was that immediate recognition that these young men and woman are a small representation of the amazing potential, the shining future, and the undying HOPE that lies within any Christian community that shares the highs and lows of life together.

It was truly a privilege to watch so many young Christians gather as they embark on a life of serving God and each other, while they find a way to take that into the world.

So I have been mulling over this for months.

It will never reach the perfected humor that I would love to achieve, but oh well.

Here are my thoughts on life as a rural pastor.

You know you are a rural pastor when...

... you receive roasts as appreciation for the job you are doing. And yes, I mean the raw cuts of meat from an animal (in my case a lovely pork loin roast).

... the season's are marked as, planting, growing, harvesting, and hunting.

... worship services are planned around milking times.

... snowmobiles only strike you as an unusual mode of transportation to church when the morning kill is strapped to the back.

... service is canceled because the people can't get out of their driveways (whether or not it actually snowed during the night).

... you are encouraged to offer tractor blessings (and even exorcisms if needed ;).

.... you need a 4-wheel drive to make it to half your congregations homes if there is any ice, snow, rain, or mud (see entry from March 17, 2010).

... lunch

is any sort of sweet accompanied by coffee before, during, or after a meeting.

... pudding mixed with crushed cookies counts as a salad (much to the delight of children everywhere).

... the local convenience store/gas pump also has the spare keys to the church building.

... the mayor of the town plows your driveway every time it snows.

... the local newspaper will announce when you arrive, when you appear at events, when you have company, if you end up with a speeding ticket, and when you leave. (Note that I did NOT end up with a speeding ticket!)

... it is as likely to see a tractor parked in front of a store as any other vehicle.

... people welcome you into their hearts, homes, and lives with warmth and caring. (Okay, and with a little bit of a knowing smile waiting for the 'city pastor' to do something a little crazy.)

My time in southwest

Minnesota was truly fantastic. I enjoyed living in a rural setting, and getting to know some very wonderful people. I was blessed to be able to have an internship that was so encouraging.

Please comment if you have other instances to add!

Hello.

It has been a long time, I know.

I have missed writing and hearing from those of you who respond.

You might then ask, 'Well why have you not posted then?'

I could give you a lot of reasons, chief of which would of course be that I have been busy. True of course, but not the whole truth.

The whole truth goes beyond one concrete reason. It is a nebulous blur of semi-conscious reasons ranging from not knowing what to write, being apprehensive about the end of internship that was looming ever close, and being truly overwhelmed by the unknown future lying ahead.

Have you ever faced a time in life like that? Where certainty of anything lies just beyond your grasp.

For me that feeling began around June. The close of my time in Southwestern Minnesota was less than three months away, and any thoughts of the future seemed slightly debilitating. Something had to give. that something turned out to be the conscious processing of my time as an intern that writing this blog required.

Now as I look back on it, I plan on going back and reviewing that time with you.

It ended very much as it began. Full of warmth, support, and knowledge that God had surely placed me there for that time. It was a wonderful experience, and one that I will always be grateful for having.

I now look toward the future, slightly more than anxious to learn where God will place me for my first call. I invite you to join me on that journey as well.

And I ask that you forgive the lapse of communication!

For now, be blessed!

I've been growing things.

You wouldn't know it to look at my 'garden', which is momentarily home to a lone little cherry tomato plant still boldly growing next to the remains of three sadly departed cucumber plants and lying 15 feet away from three struggling strawberry plants.

But truly I have been growing things. They are all inside the house. Safe in little peat pots, hidden from the brutal wind and scorching sun.

I have been watching these things all grow from seeds into little plants. I am fascinated by the whole process. Particularly the way each seed (regardless of what it is, avocado, basil, pepper, chili, bean, broccoli, spinach, or carrot) sprout in the same way. For days there was nothing to see while roots spread out, and then suddenly, a hint of green, and by the next day two little leaves were poking out of the soil on a stem that seems to fragile to support even one leaf let alone two, yet there they are. Two little leaves branching out from the root to reach out to the world and gather the sunlight.

I'm too scared to plant all these little growing things in the garden. It's so safe in the house. Outside in the little patch of ground that I inevitably forget about, how will they survive? In the house, on my kitchen table, I can't help but remember them.

But everyday they grow more, and that growth allows them to lean even more to the outside world that waits, and the sun that lives there beckoning to these fragile little green things. They need to be planted. They need to spread roots and reach their leaves further up into the sky.

I'm encouraged by the fields I pass day after day. Watching dirt suddenly erupt into thousands of tiny little plants with two little leaves reaching out, facing the wind, the sun, the animals. It is what they are meant to do. The fields give me hope that my little plants will survive in my little garden. Despite me.

There is something else I have seen. Now maybe it is just the fact that I have been trying to think of a way to preach on the Trinity all week, but I am struck at how each plant begins in the same way. Roots, stem, and those two little leaves.

Now I am not one to try to find a metaphor for the Trinity in everything from water, to life roles, to plants be it apples, clovers, or newly sprouted seeds. However, what has struck me is how essential the idea of three parts really is in our world. Of course that is why so many of the natural worlds phenomena have lent themselves to be models in our attempt to explain this complex understanding of God. So many things in the world have three parts, or three states; peel, flesh, seed; core, mantle, crust; solid, liquid, vapor.

The natural world is not the only place we see this occur either. Think of how many of our relationships exist in this pattern. Father, mother, child. Student, teacher, parent(s). Wife, Husband, God.

There is something about three parts making up a whole that makes it so much stronger, so much more able to face adversity, strife, and difficulty. Like my little plants, the three parts help it be grounded, upright, and reaching out and up to the sky, without fear of the wind overcoming the whole of it.

None of these things is a perfect model of the Trinity of course. After all, if I would have to hazard a guess, I would say that our creator modeled this idea of three parts making up the whole, three beings forming one relationship, from the pre-existence of the Trinity and the communion that had always been.

"I still have many things to tell you, but you cannot bear them now." These are the words Jesus speaks in John 16:12. There is so much that we can not bear or understand now. Yet we struggle and grapple and fight with it all anyway. We try so hard to understand this idea of Trinity that I think we fail to recognize that anything we grasp hold of to illustrate it will always pale in comparison, because they are only reflections of the original. Human kind wants to know, to understand, to have the control over it by having the knowledge of it all. It is so hard to let it go of the need to put our heads around the knowledge and just accept what is.

Well my little plants have to be put into the ground. I have to trust that God created them in a way that will enable them to survive in the environment they were meant to live in.

As for preaching on the Trinity? I suppose my message is less one of trying to understand, and more one of living into the blessing we have in Gd who can relate to us in three such unique ways, and who cares enough about us to do so.

'Aren't you on a terminal.. uh, I mean a fourth year internship?"

I chuckled in my head when this question was asked of me a few weeks ago.

I had heard the term before. Terminal Internship. It is a phrase used for those of us who are doing internship last and not going back to seminary for a year prior to ordination.

It makes sense. This internship is terminal in the sense that it is the end of my time in seminary. I suppose the joke in it is that it is the end of life as I know it as well. Ok, who am I kidding, the joke is that it is the end of having any sort of life outside of the parish for which you work.

I get it. I do. Yet I have to confess that the reason I chuckled this time, was because I have always pictured something different when I hear this phrase.

I picture, not a hospital room or a sickness, or funeral, but rather an airport terminal. I see the business of travelers rushing to catch their flights to whatever destination they are going to.

For me that is exactly what this 'terminal' internship is. It is not a death, but a passing through. I am going through internship on my way to the next stop on my journey.

I love journeys, particularly the journey of life. (Hence the name of the blog!) Passing through an airport terminal is one of the highlights of any journey for me. The people, the excitement, the anticipation. Whether you are going or coming there is so much to look at, see, experience and anticipate.

The longer I have thought about it, the more I like this application for the word terminal in general. A terminal anything is what we are passing through on the way to our next destination.

Life then is terminal. It is a terminal. It is what we are passing through on our way to a more complete relationship with God.

Thank you to all of you who join me on this journey. I love you all and I am so glad that you are part of this terminal life.

Okay call me crazy, but I like Synod Assemblies.

They wear me out; I am a tried and true introvert after all. Yet I like them.

It's kind of like the church's version of Gilligan's Island just, sadly, without the tropical locale.

After all Gilligan's Island was meant to be a social statement, or question really; "What happens when you take a microcosm of society and strand them together on an isolated island?' Synod Assemblies have the same affect. After all we are taking a small percentage of the church as a whole and putting them together in a closed room for 2-3 days with minimal contact to the outside world. Of course then we throw in extra fun bonuses like trying to talk about difficult and controversial issues, and even make decisions on those issues.

Comparing it to Gilligan's Island, of course only applies when everyone, with their varying views, thoughts, agendas, hopes, and dreams, can find a way to get along and really love and respect each other.

There are times when it turns in to Survivor and two differing camps try to vote each other off the island, or at least out of the denomination. We have all seen this happen (even in other groups and meetings if you have never had the joyous opportunity to be at a Synod Assembly). Factions form. Alliances are made with people you normally would not associate with. Harsh words are spoken. Emotions run high. Before anyone is aware of what has happened, the people we all once gathered with to make the world a better place, have become part of the problem in the world of the church. All the snarling and infighting has closed us in and made us seem unwelcoming, distant, and not at all Christ-like. All because we let the 'prize', the reward of being the one 'right' way to think and be, become our sole focus.

However, even though this has happened at the assemblies I have been to at points, most of the time it is the easier (not easy, but easier) camaraderie of people from all walks of life learning how to relate to each other. Learning that the 'professor' will take for ever to figure out and analyze a problem, but that the information and solutions he comes up with will be invaluable. Seeing that the 'Howell's' may seem removed and snotty, but that they have hearts of gold and when they see what they can do to help, they will be beyond generous. We find out that 'Ginger' is not merely shallow and fake, but that her energy and vibrancy will help things be accomplished AND be well done (dare I say attractive to outsiders?). We see that the 'Captain' has leadership, that nothing would be possible without 'Mary Ann's' willingness to take care of people, and we see that 'Gilligan' can befriend anyone with his laid back attitude and open compassion.

At Synod Assemblies, we see that people do not always have to get along. We do not always have to agree. The 'right' way to do church is to not focus on one way, because that will ever be 'right' for all. We find the strengths of all cover the weaknesses of others. We find that voting people off the island only hurts the people who stay on the island.

Yes, I like Synod Assemblies. They give us a chance to see in detail and concentration, the colorful beauty of the whole church.

Balance

Recently I heard someone talking about balance. I have always been all about balance. I like balance. Balance between the far left and the far right. Balance between work and play. Balance between thinking you are good for nothing and thinking that you are the best at everything. These things are what we call being well-adjusted and healthy people. Balance is what I strive for everyday.

Yet this person, and I honestly can not remember who it was that was saying this or where it was that I was talking to this person, was saying that when it comes to a relationship with God we are automatically unbalanced. When it comes to a life lived as a disciple we will never be able to achieve balance. This is because God is so much greater than we are. We are receiving so much more in this relationship than God is. By the very nature of what we are and who God is, the entire thing is out of balance. So we should seek a middle ground in life, a center place between extremes, but we should embrace the imbalance that comes from a life lived as a child of God.

I have been pondering this this morning because I am feeling so out of balance today. Shaky, insecure, and a little frightened. Therefore the balance that I seek for in my life on a daily basis, seems to be gone.

Yet in this shaky world that I am wondering around in today, I recognize that it is the unbalanced relationship that I have with God that is still keeping me centered. I may be out of balance. I may be leaning more heavily on God than on myself today. (Let's face it even though I love and trust God I still like to rely on me to get through life. Stubborn pride apparently has not been something I have been able to loose in my quest for balance.) I may even be a little lost in my own thoughts. However, because God is so much more than I am, it is He that keeps me upright, that keeps me able to find the center.

Today I am resting on the unbalanced relationship that I have with God to keep me grounded. Silly me for ever thinking that I was the one finding balance. Really, when will I learn that all things are indeed possible through God but it is because God gives the strength to do them, and that I have really no control over it.

Well, like I said, stubborn pride.

Philippians 4:13 I can do all things through God who strengthens me.

I have planned to write an entry about how you know you are a rural pastor. I plan for it to be fun and reflective about some of the things I have learned here in Southwestern MN. Today I have learned about more to put on this list, but it is SOOOO very funny that I have to share it with you before my year is up and I write that list.

As I type this I am stuck in the mud of a minimum maitainance road waiting for a parishioner and her husband to come extract my half buried car from the muck. Now if I had only called for directions instead of googeling it I would have been fine. Or even if I had stopped at the turn off when I saw that it was not so much a road as a more packed lane of mud than the surrounding fields and called them I would have been fine. I had, however, forgotten to write down their number. So instead of calling other people to get it, I just figured I would get through it on my own.

I actually made it quite a ways with my tough little car, that was once white. Then I saw it. Looming ahead of me was a giant puddle. To this Arizona girl it looked more like a lake. I know enough to have known at the time that this was a bad sign. I tried to think of a way to turn around. But the ‘road’ was so deteriorated that I feared if I veered even slightly off of the previous tracks I would be stuck in a field. At this point I saw no options. So I inched forward.

BIG mistake! At the very least I should have backed up and built up some speed to try to get through it. Instead I inched and crawled, and then suddenly nothing.

Did I call anyone at this point? No. I am a strong intelligent woman and I have gotten myself unstuck before. So I tried to rock my way out by going back and forth.

Note to you all: this does not work in midwest-farm-field-early-spring-soggy-mud.

The only direction I moved was farther into the ooze.

So here I sit, shoeless because I stepped out of the car to try to see if I could get out and the mud ate my shoes. Literally I had to fight with the mud to get my foot out of one of the shoes and it disappeared below the service. I do not need it back enough to have actually dug for it.

So I gave up. I called Shalom Hill Farm and got the number for the members' whose house I was on the way too and called them.

Well now I see my hero coming. No knight in shining armor on a white steed for me, no chugging towards me are two farmers in rubber boots in a muddy tractor. I can live without the white knight! These guys are practical.

Gotta go....

So the saga was not quite over I learned. After hooking up a rope to my car I learned that my battery had died as I sat there with the radio on. They had to tow me all the way back to their farm. Oh, and the tractor was backwards because they would have gotten stuck trying to turn around also.

But the beauty of small town and rural life is that they hooked my battery up to a charger that they have in the garage and let it charge while we shared lunch and laughed over the whole incident.

I was just beginning to think I was starting to loose the ‘city girl’ aura!

Interwoven Community

Saturday was a example in the great variety of ways that community is built into our lives to be a blessing to us.

The ministry team had received word on Friday that a member was in critical condition up in Rochester. So early Saturday morning I set out on the three hour drive to visit and spend time with this member and his family. Now this is part of our job, part of what we are paid to do. I think, however, that people do not realize that in our ministering to them, they often minister to us as well. This was the case for me in visiting this man and his family.

By the time I arrived, he was doing much better, so the fear that had been clinging to his wife and son, had begun to unlatch it's hold. I was able instead to watch the way this family interacted. I was most struck by the beauty, elegance, and raw care that I saw in his wife's treatment. She was able to hold on to her strength and compassion with a patience that spoke directly to my heart.

I can hope that I brought them some amount of comfort. I know however that I left that room with a lighter heart and a refreshed view of marriage, family, and love.

When the visits I had were complete, I drove an extra hour to have dinner with a friend in the Cities. We sat talking about our lives, our future goals, our fears about the future, and where we saw God moving in our own lives as well as one another's. The weight on my shoulders that can come from 'handling' life alone fell away as we talked.

Friendship like this, so open, so honest and able to hold each other up while holding each other accountable, is such a blessing from God. It is also a reminder that we can not go through any journey completely alone. It is necessary to have people along for the ride. Plus it makes it so much more fun! I would not be able to make it through life, let alone internship without such friends!

After leaving the St. Paul, I decided to stop and get Starbucks for the road. (I have managed quite nicely with no coffee shop closer than 20 miles away and no Starbacks closer than Sioux Falls, but I never pass up an opportunity to visit one when such an opportunity exists!) As I ordered, my mind was racing towards Sunday morning and all that I had to do before it came. I was so tempted to just order and leave. But the barista showed her shock when I asked for an extra shot in my Venti Americano. I laughed and said that I had a long drive. We ended up talking for about 20 minutes. It was a simple conversation really, but her kind words replayed throughout my drive home, and my spirit was renewed in purpose through this casual encounter.

Community comes in so many shapes, colors, experiences, and faces. It is not just the people who live within a few miles of us. It is not just the people in the same church, or organization, or school.

Community is in the world, in every interaction that we have with God's creation. It comes in every smile, every word, gesture, and look that passes between the people we meet.

In the midst of all of this community there is ministry happening. Whether it is the ministry that fits into the mold, or the ministry that happens as friends simply act within that friendship, or the ministry that results when two strangers recognize God's presence in the other, it is ministry. It is the sharing of lives, of faiths, of spirit and of God's love.

Community and ministry are so tightly interwoven that at times, like Saturday, it is hard to recognize one without the other.

Thank God that it was not good for man to be alone. (Genesis 1)

Casual Interactions

During my time in Japan, I began to value the countless daily interactions with nameless people you pass in the store, or on the street.

I suppose that is a side effect of living in a situation that can be so isolated that those may very well be the only interactions you have with people.

The result was that I began to utilize every single potential interaction with another human being to its fullest capacity, learning that I can gain some sort of human companionship from the briefest exchange. I began intentionally making eye contact with strangers, offering a smile, and in Japan the ever so slight upper body bow that I had become accustomed to. I started taking advantage of the few words I knew to have a meaningless conversation with every sales clerk, shop keeper, and janitor I came into contact with, and they became some of the most meaningful conversations of my life.

I am glad to say that I brought this new attitude back home with me 5 years ago (5 YEARS!?!).

I have watched how this can affect the people I interact with. I have seen how it can brighten someone's day that a customer asks how his or her day is going. I have experienced the brightening of my own day when a complete stranger returns my smile and hello. However, I have also noticed that I am most often the one to initiate the contact, and that it almost always surprises others.

Yesterday though something was different. Yesterday it was I who was surprised.

I had several things to get done yesterday in town, one of which was to take one of our members around to do his various errands. I was on a bit of a tight schedule since I had to be back in time for our Lenten meal and service. I also have to admit that I was a little annoyed with the person I was helping (this may very well become its own blog update!). All of this to say that I was a little rushed and not as intentional as I usually am about these interactions.

Yet I began to notice through the County offices, the Post Office, the convenience store, and then Walmart, that people were greeting me, before I could greet them. Halfway through Walmart I really began to wonder about this. Especially as several people smiled and said hello.

As I passed through the produce section my ponderings were answered as an employee (who I do not know by the way) said, "Can I help you find something Pastor?" Ah, yes the clergy collar.

In my ever growing knowledge of life in a small community on the prairie I had learned that sometimes a quick trip into the larger town of Worthington (especially with this particular member and unreliable weather) can often end up being not so quick. So I had intentionally dressed for the entire day. I had forgotten however that I had slipped the collar tab into the blouse when I had dressed so that I would not leave it on the bathroom sink; again. I had intended to remove it, slip it into my purse, and un-button the top button so it only looked like I have no fashion sense. Instead I received a sociology lesson.

The people who greeted me so warmly were very genuine. I never once felt like it was a greeting out of obligation. It still showed a distinct difference. I suppose I could assume that it is because the position of pastor still has an authority figure essence to it so it commands a certain respect. I could assume that or a million other things.

I choose to see it as people embracing a reminder that God is present in their lives daily. The genuineness of people's warmth and kindness yesterday shows me that just the reminder that God is working in their midst, even while shopping or getting gas, makes them feel a little lighter, a little more free, and definitely more loved.

It certainly made me stop and reflect about how blessed I am to be called into this vocation.