Wedding Details

We are really into the wedding details now! (I wonder how detail oriented Chelsea Clinton and Hillary were? Chelsea is getting married today.) Yo is really into all the tiny little details, much more than I would ever have thought to be. Michelle is not. My job for Friday was to meet with the florist, and take pictures of the sample centerpiece that he made for Yo. I took pictures of it and came home and emailed them to her. She had a million questions (or at least a half a dozen!).

Today there have been emails flying back and forth about the "something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue" tradition. The 'something new' that she needs are some appropriate wedding earrings. She emails websites so I can check those out too, and offer my feedback. Her ears have not been pierced for very long, and she isn't really accustomed to wearing loops in her ears. On her wedding day is probably not the best time to try that out!

Michelle's wedding is now only two weeks away! Time does fly. She is much less involved with some of the details. She told the florist what she wanted, but left it at that. Hers is an outside wedding. They agreed to let me rent a tent, just as a back-up option in case of rain. Hopefully, that won't be necessary. All of us are trying to stay out of the details that don't have to do with our specific area. (Cilla's daughter is singing at Yo's wedding, but which song and how that is coming is not Cilla's territory.) (The ceremonies are my territory, but not the receptions.)

Of course, for all the sisters, there are many wedding details that have to be tended to, such as making the wedding cake (which Cilla is doing for both weddings). They need bridesmaid dresses fitted and ready for Michelle's wedding. Three year old grandchild needs a flower girl dress and shoes. Husbands need some dressy clothes. Gerry needs a tux times two! (that and a checkbook!)

It will be a year to remember, for sure---the year of two weddings!

As far as the marriages go, we could not be happier!

Lush Summer

Growing things are about at their peak. Some are past their peak. The lushness of summer is going to fade soon, alas. But my vegetations dreams have all been met, and exceeded.

1. Despite many challenges from critters, our garden grew....and grew and grew! It is actually a big responsibility to have a garden. One feels the need to do something with all the produce, since it so enthusiastically presented itself! So far, between church and office giveaways, freezer and frig, I'm doing okay!

2. I have a trellis that I bought three years ago, but have never had anything to grow up it! Three climatis plants bit the dust and I gave up. Then late in June, I bought a couple of morning glory plants, as a last ditch effort, and the vine has now made it all the way to the top! Yippee. (no flowers yet, but maybe).

3. We added some rose bushes and hydrangea plants, and they are now healthy and vigorous. The corner garden in the front yard has done very well this year. A russian sage plant which I bought and planted, froze at first. But it eventually managed to make a comeback. Next year it will be twice as large!

4. Even though some animal has been eating away at the bottom of my gladiola plants, they have still managed to produce three beautiful glads for me! And, of course, I am so glad!

5. Gerry has kept the grass perfectly manicured!

6. We have had both sunshine and rain in abundance!

All in all, it has been a very very good summer so far. There are more good things to come, I know, but maybe not in the vegetation category!

Simple Things

It is Monday, and Mondays are all mine. Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday are work days (for two more months, at least) , and Fridays are usually booked with tennis and other matters. But Monday is my day. I can sleep late, be leisurely, go somewhere, read a book, or whatever strikes my fancy.

I had a couple of simple items on my list that I have not been able to find locally. I decided to go to the next town, and to Target and a couple of other places. For some reason, [I don't really know why,] I don't often go that direction, though it used to be my primary and only shopping destination.

I found the two things on my list, items needed for Yo's wedding. I also found a pair of white flats, which I bought and am hoping will also be wearable comfort shoes for Michelle's wedding.

I stopped at a produce stand on the way home and bought sweet corn for dinner. I loved all the f produce there---peaches, melon, gladiolas! It occurred to me as I drove home how simple and minimal my needs and wants really are. Gerry and I laugh occasionally at what minimalists we are, especially when we have been to someone else's house. Our home is sparsely furnished with lots of open spaces. And that is intentional. The more stuff one accumulates, the more weighted down one becomes. We like the freedom of "open space."

Another part of all this has to do with money. Both of us have always lived within our means, at whatever level that might have been. I never spend all the money I make, much less more than, which is common. To spend less than you earn also makes one feel light and free.

I am much more attached to my loved ones and friends and faith than to the possessions around me. Things can all be gone in an instant.

But love abides.

A Rainy Day

I was scheduled to play tennis at 9:00 this morning. The alarm clock went off at 8:00 as planned. It was raining very hard, so I figured tennis was off. When I woke up at 9:30, it was still raining hard. By then, I knew there was to be no tennis. I was so glad for a day of sleeping in. A lazy day. On work days I get up at eight, get ready, and am to work be 9-ish. Often on the non-work days [Monday and Friday], there is something else happening, like tennis, which requires getting up. This is the first occasion in quite a while when I have been able to sleep until my heart desired.

I sat in the sun-room and slowly drank my coffee, watched the rain, listened to the wind, and just generally relished feeling lazy---something I so rarely engage in! I miss it when I don't get a chance to do that. But I also know that too much of this "laziness" quickly leads to boredom. I am still hoping for some perfect balance.

My Interim is winding down, and I'll soon be faced with lots of time on my hands to do whatever I wish. There are more and more activities and events slowly creeping onto the calendar, but I'm not sure that I can fill it to the right level, just yet. I don't even know what the "right level" would look like. Still, I hope to find it.

When I was a little girl, and even a youth growing up in the deep south, rain was warm. When it hit the pavement on a hot summer day, it made steam. You could walk in the rain, with it pouring down on you, and not be cold. I don't think that is possible up north. Cold rain on one's body would always be cold. I do love the memory of walking in the pouring rain, looking like a drenched rat, and being completely comfortable. feeling totally free. If I try really hard, I can almost smell it, too. Warm rain has a certain smell that is different. Or maybe that was just the aroma of southern vegetation taking a drink.

Perhaps the memory has such a warm feel about it because it was before adulthood, and all the cares that brings. Ah yes, I always loved rain, until that day when rain became a terrible flood. Come to think of it, I should even love that rain. It brought me Gerry! And a better life. Being totally comfortable. And truly free!

Pastoral Care

Pastoral Care is my primary job responsibility where I serve as Interim Associate Pastor. There is a membership of approximately three hundred, though of course all of those are not in need of pastoral care attention.

A couple of interactions in the past few days have been especially challenging, or surprising, or intense, or meaningful.

Yesterday I visited a parishioner who will soon have surgery, followed by chemo and radiation. He will lose his voice box, and is losing his voice daily. When I got there and sat down on the couch, his wife said that he thought he was going to die. I asked him how he felt about that. That led to some discussions that made the wife feel like she should leave and give him the opportunity for a 'time of confession', or a private conversation with "his pastor. We had a really wonderful time of prayer together. I felt good about it.

Another especially beloved, active, very influential, wonderful man from the church is losing his battle with cancer. A parishioner who visits the couple daily called tonight because she was in need of some pastoral care herself, having such a hard time coping with his illness and the effect on their relationship. It is hard to imagine how much change is coming.

I can listen. I can offer words of encouragement; extend compassion. I can run errands. I can pray. It often feels like so little. But I know those things are the very core of ministry itself. While it seems like so little to me, I do trust that they make a difference.

To be present with. To hold someone's hand. To hear someone's story. Those are sacred things. Holy moments.

Last Night's Musical

Last night we went to see 'Promises, Promises', a Broadway musical from the 1960's. It was entertaining. The lead had an excellent voice. But to tell you the truth, I wasn't crazy about the plot. The musical is based on the movie from that era, The Apartment with Jack Lemmon. A single guy has an apartment. All the married guys want to use his apartment for get-togethers with their girlfriends. Four men from the office had different time slots.

While I wasn't crazy about the central idea, the real problem was the lack of dancing. After about the third singing number, I wondered: Where is the dance company? Why aren't there any dance numbers. As I recall, there was one at the end of the first act, and one at the end of the second act, but mostly it was dialog, with singing numbers. I suddenly realized how strongly I was yearning for dancing. I love the lively choreography of multiple dancers on stage. I like to feel the vibration of the floor shaking! Truthfully, I love most any kind of dancing.

I'm not sure exactly how one would determine the degree of dance numbers in a particular musical. That's a dilemma. One would have to ask somebody who has already been, I suppose. That particular theater is in a place further away---no one to ask.

The next play we are scheduled to see is Man of La Mancha. I saw that when I was in my early twenties and pregnant with my first child. What I recall is that I didn't really understand the plot; couldn't follow it. This time, I expect that I'll be able to figure it out.

I'm so much older and wiser now!

(Right!)

Chuckling

If I find something really funny, I laugh out loud. But for things that are only mildly funny, I laugh inside, without vocalizing. Recently, it was brought to my attention how Gerry is a chuckler, a vocal, out-loud chuckler.

We attended a musical comedy last week, and he was chuckling at the funny parts. I didn't particularly notice; I've gotten so used to the sound. He chuckles at the TV, at the radio, at a book he is reading, or whatever tickles his fancy. I am much more subdued and silent with my laughter. Oh, if I find something really funny, I can guffaw and laugh until tears roll down my face. But anything short of that doesn't get as much of a noticeable reaction.

At intermission, a woman who was sitting just to his right, suddenly began talking to him about how charming she had found his chuckling! She went on and on about how nice it was to be able to really enjoy the performance, which he obviously was. She talked at length about his audible ability to express his joy, [as if I were not present at all.] (Hello, I'm right here!).

But it did give me pause to ponder. And you know, I suppose it is an especially appealing trait to be able to easily and readily chuckle! I'm going to be more appreciative of that quality in my husband from now on!

Today's Harvest

Our garden is a very modest size of 8 feet by 12 feet. We are utterly amazed at how much stuff can grow in there. We have an abundance of lettuce, more than we can ever eat, and also zucchini. There are lots of cucumbers, too. I'll have to look up some kind of quick-pickle recipe. I am cooking the yellow squash to make my favorite summer squash recipe. (Aunt Fanny's Summer Squash).

The tomatoes are not yet ripe. When they start coming in, there will be an abundance of those, as well.

We are having "give-aways" at church, but that does not start until next week, which may be a bit late for our bumper crop of lettuce and zucchini.

I can see how gardening, especially during harvest time, can be a major undertaking if one is going to can or freeze all those veggies. I remember that well from my childhood. My parents had freezers full of vegetables. When one freezer was full, they would simply add another. They topped out at three, I believe. This is not a method I plan to adopt!

Today, I'm going to try to find some fresh sweet corn. That's Gerry's favorite, for sure!

Going Back

As a youth, I remember how awkward it felt to try to go back to the town from which we had moved. Immediately after one has left, the dynamics of relationship change. That has always been true of going back to a church one has served. Though both you and the parishioners may have positive or even affectionate feelings about your ministry, once you have moved on, everything is different. In fact, I remember after we merely announced the move that was taking place in my first parish, the relationships changed immediately! Much of that has to do with the pastoral "role" being filled by someone else.

We were going 'to town' for a luncheon today. The new pastor of my former church extended an invitation to Gerry and I to 'stop by and see all the construction going on at church'. A good deal of the inside of the church is "under construction" as they try to renovate following extensive flood damage. Rooms are being painted. New flooring will go down in much of the first floor. There are new furnishings, etc. In unsettling ways, I felt out of place. I guess that is inevitable.

Still, it is an odd feeling, probably somewhat about a loss of intimacy. The relationship between a pastor and her/his congregation is probably most like a marriage. Not "being married" any more carries with it some baggage, no matter how amicable the "divorce."

But I would have to say that the rewards are definitely worth the pain of the inevitable separation!

You Never Can Tell

Today I had to visit Logan. His wife Beth has been in the hospital, and is now in rehab. The Senior Pastor said that Beth was concerned about Logan and suggested that I visit, which I agreed to do. It was a visit about which I had some trepidation. One of reasons for that is because in previous visits, Logan has been very very quiet, downright non-talkative, leaving the talking to me and Beth. I commented on that to Gerry, as I was on my way to Logan's. Gerry said he had confidence that I could carry on both ends of the conversation, if need be. (Come to think of it, I wonder what he meant by that???) It is true that I've had to do that in various situations before.

I got great training for almost anything during my Cornell years, but especially for ministry. One of the things I did was to interview candidates for admission. It was most often a parent and a prospective student, and it was mostly about information and questions, rather than evaluation or assessment. I learned quickly how to maneuver my way around when the student was very shy, or the parent was very controlling, as well as when no one had anything much to say. I learned to ask the questions I knew they had and then to answer them too! (I'm sure that's what Gerry meant).

In reality, Logan was quite talkative. I learned about his service in World War 2, and how Beth had been an Army nurse. I asked him leading questions to get him to talk. Then eventually, he began to open up about some family issues, which was completely unexpected. It was a much better visit than I had imagined it would be.

Once again I learned the lesson that I keep having to re-learn. You may think you have some idea of what to anticipate, but in reality, you just never can tell!

Paying Attention

The leaves of the squash plants are absolutely huge. I've been looking for zucchini, but unable to find it. I have seen lots of blossoms but not any fruit. Then yesterday I went searching again, planning to at least bring in a huge bunch of lettuce, which I can see is ripe and ready. I pushed apart the zucchini leaves to glance inside. I was stunned at what I saw. There was an enormous zucchini staring back at me accusingly, as if to ask 'where have you been'? It had grown to be a foot and a half long and five or six inches around. And yet despite looking, I had not seen it.

After that, I collected about a dozen other zucchini of a more reasonable, edible size. I was somewhat mystified as to how I had missed seeing them before. Gerry had looked too, and his vision was no better than mine. Could all those have appeared overnight? Doubtful!

I guess the lesson for me was how we can look without really paying attention, listen without really hearing. Perhaps most of the time there are no earth shattering consequences for that. But sometimes there might be. For the one giant zucchini, it was too far gone.

It does make me wonder what else I might not be noticing, before its too late!

Facebook World

I don't even remember what it was that sparked my curiosity. But yesterday afternoon, I somehow got to wondering what "facebook" is all about. In order to find out, one has to take the plunge and join. I did that. I set up my Facebook page, and went about the process of trying to figure it out from there. I could do the technical part, of uploading pictures, filling in the blanks about interests, favorite tv shows, etc.

As best I can tell, it is all about being plugged in, connected. Comments from "friends" are a couple of lines long (definitely not as satisfying as an email). As I looked at a couple of people's Facebook sites, it seems to be more about pictures, than communicating. In fact, Yo has multiple photo albums on her site, one for each fascinating trip. One learns quickly that there is a whole culture out there. The thing I'm not sure about is the "friend" part. That involves some difficult decisions. For example, one person became my "friend A". I noticed on her Facebook page comments from a person from my past that I definitely do not care for. So, while I like Friend A, I may not like one of her friends. In fact, if I were honest, I'd say that seeing her picture ruined my mood! In another situation, I might be friendly with one person in a family, and not really another. It is the "friend" business about which I am uncertain.

When one begins, and has a handful of friends, it doesn't take long to notice that other people have hundreds. Lady Gaga has ten million! The competitive nature kicks in and you want to up your numbers. That's a state I don't want to be in.

So my foray into Facebook may be fairly short lived, now that I have some idea of what it is. I also noticed, that in a very short period of time, one can get addicted.

I could instantly tell that I prefer email. And even more, I prefer blogging, which is a "writer's" medium. I think perhaps, Facebook is more for looking, than for communicating.

I'll see how it goes.

Day-cation

On Friday, Gerry and I took a little jaunt across the beautiful Finger Lakes area of Central New York to Hammonsport. Gerry wanted to visit a motorcycle museum. We had a lovely drive observing the villages, hamlets and countryside. We had a fine lunch at an excellent restaurant. It was a beautiful day, though hot. Fortunately, we were always in air-conditioning.

Actually, the Glenn Hammond Curtiss museum covered bicycles, motorcycles, and airplanes, as well as a little bit of everything else. It followed chronologically the life of Glenn Curtiss, whose life and career covered from about the early nineteen hundreds through the 1950's. It was quite interesting. He was an expert in motors, and eventually produced thousands of airplanes. In fact, much of the success of aviation can be attributed to his innovations and engineering inventions.

For some reason or another (it was not connected to Curtiss's time frame) there was a Civil War exhibit in the entryway. A life size statue was dressed in a Union soldier's blue uniform. I quipped to Gerry, "So that's what the enemy looked like." I was absolutely joking, but truthfully, the civil war is still not a joking matter to many of my southerner relatives.

So in homage to my heritage, I stood with the confederacy! (Probably because most of the rest of the museum was really a guy thing!)

The thing that I found most fascinating was that the uniforms from the Civil War were all clearly hand stitched! It was hard for me to imagine the women of that era sitting at home sewing uniforms while the men went off to fight. Obviously, some of them did.

It was, perhaps, the one thing from the whole museum that stood out in my mind the most!

The Writer

From as far back as I can remember, I always wanted to grow up to be a writer. I can say with absolute conviction that I have done just that, in every "career" location I have served. The desire to think of myself as a 'writer' grew out of being a voracious reader. As a girl growing up in Mississippi, I read every book in the local library. Books were the way I experienced life beyond my location and limits. So it was natural to aspire to write.

As far as writing a book goes, the extent of my ambition was that I would write just one book. (based on the model of Margaret Mitchell who wrote just one, Gone with the Wind). And I have exceeded my one-book goal, minus the fame. (a collection of short stories in 1987 and a novel in 2009) I have just never felt the urge to pursue the path for publication.

As a writer, it would be true to say that I have come to prefer the shorter forms, such as a sermon or a blog. It would also be true to say that I have no desire to spend the next ten years of my life trying to find an agent. Seeking peace and serenity at this life stage, I would prefer that my life not be filled with that level of disappointment.

If I were to write a book, the model of the book I want to write is something akin to Jonathan Livingston Seagull, a fable about the mysteries of life, a novella. The genre of the one I have in my head I would describe as: spiritual fantasy. That is the book I occasionally wonder whether or not I might yet write.

Maybe a satisfactory solution, taking everything into consideration, is to write my novella as next year's blog. I'm giving that serious consideration!

Sacred Moments

It would be my observation that we tend to forget about really sacred moments in our lives. It is almost as if they are somehow too precious to hold in conscious thought, and get relegated to unconscious thought. Then, something may trigger a memory.

This morning I was reading about Bible Life and Times and ran across a section on anointing. I was most struck by the last sentence: "No longer did God's people need to look to others for spiritual leadership, for all believers have been anointed by the Holy Spirit."

Although I have not thought about it in years, I remembered the exact moment when I felt that happen to me, or specifically, being anointed for spiritual leadership. I was attending local pastor's licensing school in 1990. A group of us were at a retreat center for approximately ten days, focusing on practical preparation for ministry. It involved a lot of spiritual sharing, preaching and being evaluated, mock baptisms and weddings, etc. Being cloistered like that produces a certain kind of bond, and the perfect environment for significant spiritual experience.

At the end of our time together, the leaders of the school, or the faculty held a mock ordination service, including the laying on of hands. They cut up strips of red fabric to put around our necks to symbolize the resonsibility and authority we were undertaking. It was during that experience that I felt the overwhelming anointing of the Holy Spirit.

The memory that I had lost, which came flooding back to me was overwhelming. The faculty member who placed the red strip of cloth around my neck, (anointed me) was The Rev. Samuel Davis. Many years later, I became the pastor of the church in which he was living out his last days, (brain tumor) and I was his pastor, presiding at his funeral.

In biblical times, anointing was the way in which one was dedicated to God's service. Perhaps it was all part of God's plan that I should be the one serving in that church, to lead the celebration of Sam's life. One always wonders why they are sent to a particular place at a particular time. One does assume that God is involved somehow.

Perhaps it was that simple. Coming full circle.

Independence Day

I read in today's paper, the Parade magazine, all the comments on what July 4th meant to a variety of famous people. The answers all seemed to have to do with cookouts and fireworks. Only one out of six or seven mentioned patriotism. At church this morning, independence was linked to us being free from sin, through the gift of Christ, who offered himself for us. We did pause to remember the service and sacrifice made on our behalf by those serving in the military.

I am reading a book at the moment, which happens to be about a woman's spiritual journey, as she participates in a "walkabout" with Aboriginal people in Australia. What she describes about these people, and their traditions and ways and their ancient knowledge, I think best exemplifies what true independence is.

I'd have to say that the basic underlying principles are that of non-attachment and being one with nature. Now, I realize that the notion of non-attachment is typical of eastern religions, particularly Buddhism. But reading about the daily lives of these ancient people as they survived in the desert day after day, has taught me a whole new idea of "independence". One is truly independent when they are not attached to the thing. They are clearly and deeply attached to one another. They are attached to the experience, the feeling, the memory, but not the thing itself. For instance, they created or found in nature what they needed on a daily basis.

If they created musical instrument out of a gourd, and had a spontaneous concert in the desert, with rocks and sticks, and drums, they left the homemade instruments behind. It was the experience that was to be treasured, and the feelings it evoked, not the instruments themselves. They took the joy of the concert with them.

The minimal things they carry are for the benefit of the group; a sharp spear, herbs for medicine, animal skins for warmth when sleeping. Beyond that, the idea of possession is a very strange concept for them.

I got the feeling they were the most independent people I had ever heard of. They carried with them the necessary resources, such as knowledge of how to find water, what plants were edible and which ones not. They depended upon their internal guide and what nature provided. They were completely inter-dependent. They left behind no imprint of their presence.

As Americans, and 'westerners', we mark our independence by remembering how we freed ourselves from the rule of another nation. Countless citizens have fought and died to protect our borders, land, constitution, way of life. Those are all things to which we are deeply attached.

I like the idea of being attached to feelings and experiences and a community/tribe, but not to the material accumulations of our lives. It is an idea I want to ponder and try to understand more deeply.

And I am sure it does not preclude, nor diminish the message of Christ, the Spirit of Christ, who became completely unattached, even to his own life, for the benefit of others.

Running Errands

A gentleman in our church has cancer. He is a beloved, generous person who has done so much for the church. His wife does not drive. I called to ask if there was any way I could be of help, and Brandon said I could help run errands. I didn't know until I got there that that meant I would be taking Vera shopping. Vera is ninety and uses a cane, and moves slowly. Brandon instructed me to hold on to her at all times.

It was a really interesting experience. I knew immediately that would involve changing my pace, adjusting my normal mode of both driving and walking. I would need to shift gears down by about a factor of four.

Vera needed some ladies intimate apparel. She had finally decided to abandon her full body armor in favor of something more comfortable. Shopping with Vera was like stepping back into the 1950's. You could tell that she was accustomed to interacting with a clerk, asking questions, having them help her find each item. I couldn't do that because I had to hold on to her. Clerks on the floor to help are rather scarce these days, of course, but I did get one to appear. I'm sure we were quite a sight, and clearly in need of attention. Then after we identified the appropriate items to purchase, I had to hold on to those too. After a while, it got to be quite a bundle in my left hand, as I held on to her with my right arm. She had her cane in her right hand, plus we both had purses over our shoulders.

I drove much more smoothly than I usually do, coming slowly to stops. I walked at Vera's pace, rather than my speedy clip. I held on to her as instructed, and got her safely home with all the essentials she needed, including three packages of socks for Brandon.

Actually it was kind of fun. I wouldn't mind doing it again! Vera is a very sweet lady, from another era. She is always dressed in the most stylish outfits. Maybe now, she will be more comfortable underneath!