Received via Farai Chideya and Tayari Jones. My assignment was to write about when I was staring down 30 and compare it to now (when I'm staring down 40).
THEN
A month before the big three-oh, I was on my pastoral internship in Edgemont, South Dakota. It was part of my Masters in Divinity program at Wartburg Theological Seminary. The population of Edgemont at that time was 864. I'd grown up in a suburb of Boston, where there were about 1200 students in my high school alone. Needless to say, I was suffering from some culture shock. I was also struggling with my pastoral identity, trying to figure out how this female ex-Catholic Bostonian could possibly minister to a congregation of rural Midwestern Lutherans. Being single, the isolation was difficult for me, and I was transitioning from a problem drinker into a full-blown alcoholic. I was also a smoker.
Even though I wanted to get married, I expected I'd remain single for the rest of my life. Before I'd begun preparing for ministry, I'd always had trouble attracting decent men. Once I added 'Pastor' to my identity, it was like I was radioactive. Most guys wanted nothing to do with someone in my profession. Additionally I was told by some well-meaning family members that my standards were too high. I decided I'd rather keep my high standards and remain single than settle into a bad marriage. I planned to adopt a daughter after I was firmly established in my first call, about two or three years down the line.
I didn't want to make South Dakota my permanent home, but I knew I never wanted to return to New England, where I'd never felt I belonged. I hoped for a call in Wisconsin or Iowa, where I would be a parish pastor in a smallish community (preferably with a population in the low thousands, rather than hundreds) and hopefully serve the same congregation for a very long time.
NOW
Ten years later I've burnt out on parish ministry after serving two congregations as called pastor and two more as interim. Only one of those congregations was in the Midwest, and it was the most toxic of the lot, essentially destroying any desire I might have to go back (to parish ministry or to the Midwest). I also quit smoking in 2003 and have been sober for over eight years. I'm happily married to a man who met my standards (what do you know--he did exist!), and I'm a stay-at-home homeschooling mom to our two young children. We're also living in New Hampshire, and are very happy here. It turns out New England is where I belonged after all.
I'm not letting my theological training go to waste, even as I acknowledge that parish ministry is not a good fit for me. I'm an active member of a local Lutheran congregation, where I occasionally teach adult bible studies. I also fill in for my pastor and other nearby colleagues when they need a Sunday off. Finally, I'm combining my theological training with my life-long love of writing. I'm in the process of launching my own publishing house where I will publish devotions, bible studies, worship resources, theological books, and even some fiction (which may or may not have a religious theme). Of course, that takes a backseat to being a wife and mother, two jobs that are MUCH more difficult than I'd ever imagined (but worth it nonetheless).
Would you like to participate in the Time Capsule Challenge? Leave a comment with your current age, and I'll give you an age to write about. If you're willing, please either write your response in a comment, or provide a link to your own page. Otherwise, just do this for your own edification. It's fun!
Showing posts with label Discernment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Discernment. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Cutting the Distractions
About a year ago I tracked my time for five weeks and reported the results in my post What Do You Do All Day? I'm feeling the need to do that again, because once again I'm feeling slammed-to-the-wall busy while simultaneously wondering why I don't seem to be accomplishing anything.
I've been wanting to do this for a while, but it seems like there's always something 'special' going on that's going to skew my time in a misleading way. For example, I don't plan to start until sometime after next week, because next week I'll be bringing my kids to VBS, which means four nights of not cooking supper (which I usually do) and of following a completely different routine from what we do every other week of the year. Back in June there was the five-day retreat I took at a Benedictine Monastery, which would have totally skewered my numbers.
But looking over the post from last year, I can already see some areas where I'm going to fall down. Mindless computer time leads that list. I'm spending way too much time playing stupid Facebook games. In preparation for my next attempt at better time management, I've gone ahead and disabled the applications platform on Facebook, which means not only can I not play the games, I can't even see the posts about my friends' game activity. Sorry, friends, but something's gotta give. I lost Bejeweled Blitz to the need to wear two wrist braces continuously, and I just don't have time for Bubble Safari or Hidden Chronicles anymore. I'm also completely failing at exercise, so I'm going to try to pick that up again before I start logging my time. Please believe me that I'm doing these things not to make my time logs look better, but because I'm genuinely trying to manage my time better, and I don't need a detailed log to know that these things have to change if I'm going to live my priorities.
So what are my priorities?
Taking care of my family still ranks first. This means spending quality time with my husband and kids, individually and as a family. It means preparing healthy meals for them. It means having regular homeschooling sessions with my kids (I've been pretty haphazard about it so far).
Professional development as a writer ranks second. Last time I did this I was talking about wanting to be a writer, but I wasn't really writing anything except this blog, plus editing some old sermons to send off to DesperatePreacher.com. Now in addition to those two things, I'm writing daily devotions at Quiet Publications, plus entering several writing contests. I'm also trying to reformat some bible studies I've written so I can make them available for sale at Quiet Publications, and I've got a couple of short nonfiction book ideas I want to develop for that site. And then there's the novel. And the memoir. Realistically I know I can't possibly do all that, and I'm going to have to pick one or two things to focus on and put the rest on hold, but for now I'm trying to do it all so I can see which of these projects really inspires my passion.
Self care? I feel obligated to put this one in my top three, but I don't have very high hopes for it. Don't get me wrong; it's not that I don't want self care to be a priority, it's just that it seems like a luxury I can't really afford right now. I realize that's short-term thinking, and if I want to achieve my long-term goals (or, more specifically, live to have long-term goals) I'd better make it a priority. So there it is, and I'll do what I can. For the purposes of this project, self care will include exercise, time with friends, and down-time (reading for pleasure or watching TV that I choose, opposed to what my kids choose).
The wild card is going to be my continuing education. I've been accepted into a year-long unit of Clinical Pastoral Education, which is going to take up twelve hours a week from September through April, plus commuting time (about an hour each way). It's part of my effort to become a certified chaplain, which is a long-term goal. It very easily could push its way into my top three (most likely squeezing out self care), and I may eventually have to choose between it and writing. I hope not, but it's a possibility I have to consider. As much as I hate to admit it, chaplain is kind of my back-up plan in case writing doesn't start bringing in some money. I want to be a writer. I'm willing to be a chaplain. If I have to start helping out with the bills (a real possibility in this economy) what I want to do may have to take a backseat to what I have to do. I'm nothing if not pragmatic. But it's also part of the reason why I'm putting such a push on writing now; I'd really like it to start paying some bills. But in the meantime, I'm trying to pick up three more unites of CPE, one unit at a time.
These are my priorities. When I log, I'm going to pay attention to mindlessness (mindless games, mindless websurfing, etc) because I don't really get a benefit from those things. That's not to say that all my self care has to be intellectually challenging; rereading the entire Harry Potter series is on my short-list of things to do, and I certainly don't consider that to be challenging. But it's not mindless, either. Escapist fiction that I intentionally sit down to read is a lot different from random websites that distract me from whatever it is I should be doing.
It will be interesting to see if I'm living according to my stated priorities. It will also be interesting to see where my time is going; I really don't feel like I'm accomplishing much most days.
I've been wanting to do this for a while, but it seems like there's always something 'special' going on that's going to skew my time in a misleading way. For example, I don't plan to start until sometime after next week, because next week I'll be bringing my kids to VBS, which means four nights of not cooking supper (which I usually do) and of following a completely different routine from what we do every other week of the year. Back in June there was the five-day retreat I took at a Benedictine Monastery, which would have totally skewered my numbers.
But looking over the post from last year, I can already see some areas where I'm going to fall down. Mindless computer time leads that list. I'm spending way too much time playing stupid Facebook games. In preparation for my next attempt at better time management, I've gone ahead and disabled the applications platform on Facebook, which means not only can I not play the games, I can't even see the posts about my friends' game activity. Sorry, friends, but something's gotta give. I lost Bejeweled Blitz to the need to wear two wrist braces continuously, and I just don't have time for Bubble Safari or Hidden Chronicles anymore. I'm also completely failing at exercise, so I'm going to try to pick that up again before I start logging my time. Please believe me that I'm doing these things not to make my time logs look better, but because I'm genuinely trying to manage my time better, and I don't need a detailed log to know that these things have to change if I'm going to live my priorities.
So what are my priorities?
Taking care of my family still ranks first. This means spending quality time with my husband and kids, individually and as a family. It means preparing healthy meals for them. It means having regular homeschooling sessions with my kids (I've been pretty haphazard about it so far).
Professional development as a writer ranks second. Last time I did this I was talking about wanting to be a writer, but I wasn't really writing anything except this blog, plus editing some old sermons to send off to DesperatePreacher.com. Now in addition to those two things, I'm writing daily devotions at Quiet Publications, plus entering several writing contests. I'm also trying to reformat some bible studies I've written so I can make them available for sale at Quiet Publications, and I've got a couple of short nonfiction book ideas I want to develop for that site. And then there's the novel. And the memoir. Realistically I know I can't possibly do all that, and I'm going to have to pick one or two things to focus on and put the rest on hold, but for now I'm trying to do it all so I can see which of these projects really inspires my passion.
Self care? I feel obligated to put this one in my top three, but I don't have very high hopes for it. Don't get me wrong; it's not that I don't want self care to be a priority, it's just that it seems like a luxury I can't really afford right now. I realize that's short-term thinking, and if I want to achieve my long-term goals (or, more specifically, live to have long-term goals) I'd better make it a priority. So there it is, and I'll do what I can. For the purposes of this project, self care will include exercise, time with friends, and down-time (reading for pleasure or watching TV that I choose, opposed to what my kids choose).
The wild card is going to be my continuing education. I've been accepted into a year-long unit of Clinical Pastoral Education, which is going to take up twelve hours a week from September through April, plus commuting time (about an hour each way). It's part of my effort to become a certified chaplain, which is a long-term goal. It very easily could push its way into my top three (most likely squeezing out self care), and I may eventually have to choose between it and writing. I hope not, but it's a possibility I have to consider. As much as I hate to admit it, chaplain is kind of my back-up plan in case writing doesn't start bringing in some money. I want to be a writer. I'm willing to be a chaplain. If I have to start helping out with the bills (a real possibility in this economy) what I want to do may have to take a backseat to what I have to do. I'm nothing if not pragmatic. But it's also part of the reason why I'm putting such a push on writing now; I'd really like it to start paying some bills. But in the meantime, I'm trying to pick up three more unites of CPE, one unit at a time.
These are my priorities. When I log, I'm going to pay attention to mindlessness (mindless games, mindless websurfing, etc) because I don't really get a benefit from those things. That's not to say that all my self care has to be intellectually challenging; rereading the entire Harry Potter series is on my short-list of things to do, and I certainly don't consider that to be challenging. But it's not mindless, either. Escapist fiction that I intentionally sit down to read is a lot different from random websites that distract me from whatever it is I should be doing.
It will be interesting to see if I'm living according to my stated priorities. It will also be interesting to see where my time is going; I really don't feel like I'm accomplishing much most days.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Refocusing for the New Year
Yes, I realize we're coming up on the second week of January, but the general tone of my life for the past few years (ever since I became a mom, come to think of it) has been that of constantly trying to 'catch up' and maybe even 'get ahead' of things, and never quite achieving it. So it makes perfect sense that I'm just now getting around to thinking about how I want to approach this new year.
Going into 2010, my hope was simply that it would be better than 2009. I think I can honestly say it turned out to be worse. Going into 2011, my hope was that it would be better than 2010. Some things were better, some things were worse, so overall I'd call it a net neutral, i.e. no change. Going into 2012, initially I was just hoping that it would be better than 2011, and then I realized that that strategy hasn't been working out so well for me. So this time I want to set some specific goals on how to make it better.
I've never been a big fan of New Year's Resolutions. They've never worked for me, and they seem just too trite and faddish. Who doesn't go into the new year wanting to lose weight, get their finances under control, and be a happier/nicer/better person overall? Oh yes, and quit or cut down on [insert favorite vice here]. But it seems I do need to be a little more specific and intentional if I want 2012 to be better than 2009, 2010, or 2011.
A blog I follow (Introverted Church) recently posted about having a New Year's Rule of Life instead of New Year's Resolutions. According to author Adam S. McHugh, "a rule of life is a way of arranging the rhythms of your life - all aspects of your life - so that you can best embrace God's gifts." He then further breaks it down into the four categories listed in Jesus' greatest commandment: "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength." He suggests that you create your rule of life so that you have elements in each category that are natural and desirable (and therefore more likely for you to keep) as well as some things that are a bit of a stretch. If you regularly and consistently fail at your rule of life, then it's a bad rule and you need to revise it.
I particularly like this way of thinking about things because I want to live a Christ-centered life that takes into account my gifts, abilities, circumstances, and limitations. As I see it, if I set a rule of life that I can't keep, then it's probably not really a rule of my life, but a rule of someone else's life. I am who I am, not who I wish I was, not who someone else thinks I should be. I can make some changes to improve myself, but I can only improve upon what's already there, and not be something that I'm not.
So when I think about what I want 2012 to look like according to these categories, I immediately run into a problem. I'm perpetually worried about finances, and, since we're still recovering from our long stint of dual unemployment a few years ago, that concern is somewhat justified (even though my husband is working now, and we've got a concrete and realistic plan that we're in the process of executing to cut our current expenses). But Jesus didn't address financial stability in the greatest commandment, so trying to prioritize it as a goal in its own right doesn't work.
And maybe that's a good thing. Our lowest period in the last three years was indisputably the seven months we lived in rural Iowa when I was serving as pastor at a highly toxic and unhealthy church. Why were we there? Because we'd been living entirely off savings for eight months when I started that call, my husband's industry seemed to have fallen into a black hole never to be heard from again, and our best hope for survival was for me to find a job (acknowledging that I'd earn less than half of what he'd been making). My most marketable skill was ministry. I didn't look too closely at the red flags that came up during my interview process, and I believed the fiction that the congregation presented. If I hadn't been so desperate for a paycheck, maybe I would have looked more closely, and avoided the whole nightmare. But wanting financial security was my overwhelming priority, and we're still paying for that mistake two years later.
So as far as my goal of financial security is concerned, I'm just going to have to let it go, because it doesn't have a place in a Christ-centered rule of life. That doesn't mean I should be stupid about money, but it does mean that it's not important enough to warrant a place of its own. I preach and write all the time about the importance of trusting God; maybe it's time I try it myself (practicing what I preach? What a concept!).
So what is important enough to warrant a place of its own in a Christ-centered, great commandment ordered rule of life?
Heart: In 2012, I'm going to have regular date nights with my husband in which we will learn to just enjoy each other's company again, rather than using the time to strategize our survival. I'm going to play with my children at least once a week. (I'm philosophically opposed to being my kids' primary playmate--they can play alone, with each other, and make their own friends, but I'm always going to be MOMMY first. That said, it doesn't mean we can't have fun together.) I'm going to make friends with some of the women at my church, starting with attending their monthly events.
Soul: I've known since I left Iowa that I'm spiritually wounded and in need of healing. It seems I've found a safe church home at my current congregation (where I'm just a member and, when necessary, provide pulpit supply). I'll continue worshiping there, plus contributing to the ministry of the congregation (I've already been asked by some of the women I went to the retreat with in November if I'd teach a bible study on a specific subject). I also find that I'm benefiting spiritually from writing Quiet Devotions, so I'll continue doing that, and I'll try to write other spiritual and theological resources. (This might actually someday contribute to financial stability, as my hope is to self-publish and sell some congregational resources, but for now I'm only setting my goal on writing that enriches my own spiritual health, and trusting that if God wants to use those resources to help others, then he will.)
Mind: As much as I like the idea of getting a Ph.D, I know that now is not the time. Instead, I'm going to continue reading both fiction (I'm on a 19th century kick right now, though will sometimes mix it up with fantasy or contemporary literary fiction) and non-fiction, usually theologically related. While I'll continue to follow politics, economics, and current events, I want to make this blog a little less political and a little more personal, spiritual, and theological. If I comment about politics or current events, I'm going to try to look at it from a theological perspective. (I've just written a couple of devotions that emphasized the importance of keeping God in mind in all that we say and do, so this blog is probably a good place to try to put that in action. Again, practicing what I preach--this is going to be hard!)
Strength: Yes, this is the 'lose weight and get healthy' part of it. Specifically I'm going to track what I eat in a logbook (something I've been doing on and off since August), weigh myself weekly, and make adjustments to my diet to try to keep it balanced, healthy, and results in my losing some poundage. I'm also going to get on my recumbent bike for at least ten minutes a day, three times a week. I know that's considerably less exercise than is recommended, but since quitting the gym two months ago I'm starting at zero. I'll follow some advice I came across the other day and try to increase my exercise a little bit each month. Even though my progress will be slow, I'll be establishing a habit with each increase, hopefully keeping it manageable and not getting discouraged. When the weather improves I'll add some outdoor activities, but since I don't know exactly where I'll be living then, I'll reserve specifics until I have more information. (Yes, we're moving again. More on that later.)
So that's my Rule of Life for 2012. I truly hope this will help make this year better than last year. And the year before that. And the year before that. Wish me luck!
Going into 2010, my hope was simply that it would be better than 2009. I think I can honestly say it turned out to be worse. Going into 2011, my hope was that it would be better than 2010. Some things were better, some things were worse, so overall I'd call it a net neutral, i.e. no change. Going into 2012, initially I was just hoping that it would be better than 2011, and then I realized that that strategy hasn't been working out so well for me. So this time I want to set some specific goals on how to make it better.
I've never been a big fan of New Year's Resolutions. They've never worked for me, and they seem just too trite and faddish. Who doesn't go into the new year wanting to lose weight, get their finances under control, and be a happier/nicer/better person overall? Oh yes, and quit or cut down on [insert favorite vice here]. But it seems I do need to be a little more specific and intentional if I want 2012 to be better than 2009, 2010, or 2011.
A blog I follow (Introverted Church) recently posted about having a New Year's Rule of Life instead of New Year's Resolutions. According to author Adam S. McHugh, "a rule of life is a way of arranging the rhythms of your life - all aspects of your life - so that you can best embrace God's gifts." He then further breaks it down into the four categories listed in Jesus' greatest commandment: "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength." He suggests that you create your rule of life so that you have elements in each category that are natural and desirable (and therefore more likely for you to keep) as well as some things that are a bit of a stretch. If you regularly and consistently fail at your rule of life, then it's a bad rule and you need to revise it.
I particularly like this way of thinking about things because I want to live a Christ-centered life that takes into account my gifts, abilities, circumstances, and limitations. As I see it, if I set a rule of life that I can't keep, then it's probably not really a rule of my life, but a rule of someone else's life. I am who I am, not who I wish I was, not who someone else thinks I should be. I can make some changes to improve myself, but I can only improve upon what's already there, and not be something that I'm not.
So when I think about what I want 2012 to look like according to these categories, I immediately run into a problem. I'm perpetually worried about finances, and, since we're still recovering from our long stint of dual unemployment a few years ago, that concern is somewhat justified (even though my husband is working now, and we've got a concrete and realistic plan that we're in the process of executing to cut our current expenses). But Jesus didn't address financial stability in the greatest commandment, so trying to prioritize it as a goal in its own right doesn't work.
And maybe that's a good thing. Our lowest period in the last three years was indisputably the seven months we lived in rural Iowa when I was serving as pastor at a highly toxic and unhealthy church. Why were we there? Because we'd been living entirely off savings for eight months when I started that call, my husband's industry seemed to have fallen into a black hole never to be heard from again, and our best hope for survival was for me to find a job (acknowledging that I'd earn less than half of what he'd been making). My most marketable skill was ministry. I didn't look too closely at the red flags that came up during my interview process, and I believed the fiction that the congregation presented. If I hadn't been so desperate for a paycheck, maybe I would have looked more closely, and avoided the whole nightmare. But wanting financial security was my overwhelming priority, and we're still paying for that mistake two years later.
So as far as my goal of financial security is concerned, I'm just going to have to let it go, because it doesn't have a place in a Christ-centered rule of life. That doesn't mean I should be stupid about money, but it does mean that it's not important enough to warrant a place of its own. I preach and write all the time about the importance of trusting God; maybe it's time I try it myself (practicing what I preach? What a concept!).
So what is important enough to warrant a place of its own in a Christ-centered, great commandment ordered rule of life?
Heart: In 2012, I'm going to have regular date nights with my husband in which we will learn to just enjoy each other's company again, rather than using the time to strategize our survival. I'm going to play with my children at least once a week. (I'm philosophically opposed to being my kids' primary playmate--they can play alone, with each other, and make their own friends, but I'm always going to be MOMMY first. That said, it doesn't mean we can't have fun together.) I'm going to make friends with some of the women at my church, starting with attending their monthly events.
Soul: I've known since I left Iowa that I'm spiritually wounded and in need of healing. It seems I've found a safe church home at my current congregation (where I'm just a member and, when necessary, provide pulpit supply). I'll continue worshiping there, plus contributing to the ministry of the congregation (I've already been asked by some of the women I went to the retreat with in November if I'd teach a bible study on a specific subject). I also find that I'm benefiting spiritually from writing Quiet Devotions, so I'll continue doing that, and I'll try to write other spiritual and theological resources. (This might actually someday contribute to financial stability, as my hope is to self-publish and sell some congregational resources, but for now I'm only setting my goal on writing that enriches my own spiritual health, and trusting that if God wants to use those resources to help others, then he will.)
Mind: As much as I like the idea of getting a Ph.D, I know that now is not the time. Instead, I'm going to continue reading both fiction (I'm on a 19th century kick right now, though will sometimes mix it up with fantasy or contemporary literary fiction) and non-fiction, usually theologically related. While I'll continue to follow politics, economics, and current events, I want to make this blog a little less political and a little more personal, spiritual, and theological. If I comment about politics or current events, I'm going to try to look at it from a theological perspective. (I've just written a couple of devotions that emphasized the importance of keeping God in mind in all that we say and do, so this blog is probably a good place to try to put that in action. Again, practicing what I preach--this is going to be hard!)
Strength: Yes, this is the 'lose weight and get healthy' part of it. Specifically I'm going to track what I eat in a logbook (something I've been doing on and off since August), weigh myself weekly, and make adjustments to my diet to try to keep it balanced, healthy, and results in my losing some poundage. I'm also going to get on my recumbent bike for at least ten minutes a day, three times a week. I know that's considerably less exercise than is recommended, but since quitting the gym two months ago I'm starting at zero. I'll follow some advice I came across the other day and try to increase my exercise a little bit each month. Even though my progress will be slow, I'll be establishing a habit with each increase, hopefully keeping it manageable and not getting discouraged. When the weather improves I'll add some outdoor activities, but since I don't know exactly where I'll be living then, I'll reserve specifics until I have more information. (Yes, we're moving again. More on that later.)
So that's my Rule of Life for 2012. I truly hope this will help make this year better than last year. And the year before that. And the year before that. Wish me luck!
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Announcing Quiet Devotions!
Through this blog I've been writing about a variety of issues, and it's been a fun experience for me. But when I think about what kind of writing I'm likely to make a career out of, I keep coming back to religion. So while I'll keep this blog as a sort of catch-all (and definitely an outlet for my political rants!), I'm going to be putting more of my effort into establishing myself as a religious writer.
To that end, I'm please to announce Quiet Devotions. According to the daily lectionary in the back of Evangelical Lutheran Worship, tomorrow begins daily readings for Year B. So beginning tomorrow, Quiet Devotions will feature a brief reflection and prayer based on one of the daily readings. If you're looking for something to help focus your personal prayer life, I encourage you to subscribe to that page.
In the future I'll publish other religious resources as well, but for now I'm just going to keep up with the devotionals. I hope you'll find them helpful and thought-provoking!
To that end, I'm please to announce Quiet Devotions. According to the daily lectionary in the back of Evangelical Lutheran Worship, tomorrow begins daily readings for Year B. So beginning tomorrow, Quiet Devotions will feature a brief reflection and prayer based on one of the daily readings. If you're looking for something to help focus your personal prayer life, I encourage you to subscribe to that page.
In the future I'll publish other religious resources as well, but for now I'm just going to keep up with the devotionals. I hope you'll find them helpful and thought-provoking!
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Priorities
A couple of weeks ago I blogged about my daily schedule, and where all my time goes. In that post I expressed my desire to better manage my time, make some positive changes, etc. While I haven't yet begun keeping a new timesheet to monitor my progress, I do know one thing: it's not working.
There simply aren't enough hours in the day, and I'm trying to do too much. I want to be a good wife, a good mother, a writer, take time to exercise regularly, and still give myself some free time to just relax and recharge. We're planning on moving again, once we can get out of this lease, so I have to start organizing things in the house to make that a little easier when the time comes. Much of what I'm doing I can't let go of. My marriage--like everyone's--need's work. My kids are very young, and need a lot of attention. Exercise is very important for my continued existence on this earth, and I'll suck at everything if I reduce what little down time I have now. Which leaves writing.
I've always wanted to be a writer. I wrote my first poem and my first short story when I was six years old. I wrote my first novel in high school. (None of it's ever been published, and that atrocious novel never will be.) I have a number of nonfiction books I'd like to write, and a new novel is living fully formed in my imagination. But I don't have time to sit down and write any of it. I've found that what little writing time I do have is going towards this blog.
I started this blog on a whim, and it's been fun. But it's taking more time than I believe it's worth. I'm not completely giving up on it, but I'm going to switch to posting on it only when I feel inspired, rather than every Tuesday morning (or, lately, afternoon) as I originally intended. If you've been following me regularly, thank you, and please continue to do so, but also please be patient if it's a while between posts.
Until we meet again!
There simply aren't enough hours in the day, and I'm trying to do too much. I want to be a good wife, a good mother, a writer, take time to exercise regularly, and still give myself some free time to just relax and recharge. We're planning on moving again, once we can get out of this lease, so I have to start organizing things in the house to make that a little easier when the time comes. Much of what I'm doing I can't let go of. My marriage--like everyone's--need's work. My kids are very young, and need a lot of attention. Exercise is very important for my continued existence on this earth, and I'll suck at everything if I reduce what little down time I have now. Which leaves writing.
I've always wanted to be a writer. I wrote my first poem and my first short story when I was six years old. I wrote my first novel in high school. (None of it's ever been published, and that atrocious novel never will be.) I have a number of nonfiction books I'd like to write, and a new novel is living fully formed in my imagination. But I don't have time to sit down and write any of it. I've found that what little writing time I do have is going towards this blog.
I started this blog on a whim, and it's been fun. But it's taking more time than I believe it's worth. I'm not completely giving up on it, but I'm going to switch to posting on it only when I feel inspired, rather than every Tuesday morning (or, lately, afternoon) as I originally intended. If you've been following me regularly, thank you, and please continue to do so, but also please be patient if it's a while between posts.
Until we meet again!
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
What Do You Do All Day?
Back when I was single and working a full-time job, I used to dream of getting married and 'just' being a full-time mom. Aside from the obvious desire to share my life with someone and raise children, I really liked the idea of just staying home all day. All the things I'd be able to do then! All the books I'd read, the crafts I'd make, and the fun things I could do with my kids--if only I could stay home all day.
Well, now I'm married and home with my kids all day, and I can't figure out where the time goes. I feel like I'm super-busy, but I can't really point to anything I've accomplished at the end of each day. My house isn't as clean as it used to be, I have less time for reading, almost no time for crafts, and TV is something the kids watch when I really need to get something else done.
I really wanted to know where my time was going, so I ran a little experiment. Starting in late June and going throughout July, I kept a log of everything I did each day for five weeks, divided into fifteen minute increments (yes, I really am that anal). Unfortunately it was a handwritten log, and I didn't try to do anything with the data until I had it all. It's taken me nearly two months to find the time to do my data entry and analysis.
But anyway, here we are, and the first thing I have to say is: thank goodness for multitasking! I kept track of when I was doing something with all my attention, as well as when I was doing multiple things at once. When I added up how much time I spent doing things, I came up with a total of 1,066.75 hours of activities. There are only 840 hours in a five-week period. That means I actually did six weeks, two days, ten hours, and forty-eight minutes worth of activities in five weeks. That averages out to needing 30 hours and 28 minutes to do what I need to do each day. No wonder I'm tired all the time!
At first glance, it looks like I spend 637 hours, or 59.7% of my time, doing one thing at a time, and 429.75 hours, or 40.3% of my time multitasking. But that's misleading, because by definition one can't sleep while multitasking, and I spent 264.5 hours (or 24.8% of my time) sleeping or trying to sleep. (I'm a chronic insomniac, so much of that time was spent trying to sleep, but it's impossible to break out how much time was spent trying, and how much time was spent actually sleeping. If I had to guess, I'd say at least a quarter of that time was trying to sleep.) If you just look at my waking hours, I spent only 372.5 hours (or 34.9% of my time) doing one thing at a time. Without multitasking, I'd be lost.
So what did I spend all my time doing? Well, we already know that sleeping or trying to sleep accounted for 24.8%. That wasn't what I spent the most time doing, however. Taking care of my kids took up 24.9% of my time, and spending time with my husband came in third at 19.3%. But it's interesting how those numbers broke out. Of the 265.25 hours I spent with my kids, 174 of them (or 65.6%) were spent multitasking, while the other 91.25 hours (or 34.4%) were spent doing nothing else but taking care of them. On the other hand, of the 206.25 hours I spent with my husband, for 126 of them (or 61%) my attention was entirely on him, and I only multitasked for 80.25 hours (or 38.9%) with him. So while my kids get more time with me overall, my husband gets more focused time with me than they do.
Taking care of my family and trying to sleep accounts for 69% of my time. Self care (the combination of personal hygiene, reading for pleasure, personal 'alone' time, attending worship, spending time with friends, and exercising) accounts for 6.9% of my time. Professional development (research and writing) accounts for 6.2% of my time, and I waste (watching TV or mindlessly surfing the web) 5.3% of my time. Some of that is a little misleading, because I'm sure some of the time I called 'research' really should have been categorized under 'mindless web surfing.' Also, nearly half the time I logged as 'exercising' (9.25 hours) was actually spent driving to and from the gym. That leaves me with 12.6% of my time to cook, clean, eat, run errands, manage the household finances, manage my husband's company's finances, and do crafts, plus write sermons and lead worship if I'm called to fill in for a vacationing pastor (which I did four of the five Sundays included in my log). That's three hours and fifty minutes per day of my 30 hour, 28 minute long days.
It's been interesting to see if how I spend my time matches up with my stated priorities. Overall, the answer is yes, because my family is my top priority, and I spend 44.2% of my total time (or 58.8% of my waking hours) engaging with them. On the other hand, I see some areas I need to fix. I don't have enough hours in the day to waste 5.3% of my time on mindless web surfing or TV. And I'd like to be able to spend more time writing. While 6.2% might be the best I can do right now, that was two-thirds research to one-third writing. I think much of my 'research' is just an excuse, and I need to reverse that ratio. I also need to spend more time on self-care. You can't see it in the averages, but a lot of my personal time was grouped together in large blocks every few weeks, because I just burned out and shut down, and had to hole up while my husband took care of the kids. I need to be more intentional about taking time for me and doing something that I find enjoyable (like reading for pleasure) rather than mindlessly wasting time. I've already begun to exercise a lot more.
I think I'm going to run this experiment again. In addition to the changes I want to make or have already made, some things are different now than they were in June. For one thing, now that the fall programming has begun, I'm no longer being called for pulpit supply nearly every week, so I actually get to worship again. However, this does cut down on my personal time, because I was taking some time for myself after church rather than going straight home. Now I've got the kids with me at church. Also in July, my husband and I attended Readercon 22, which resulted in two solid days where I didn't interact with my kids at all, and my husband got a lot of one-on-one time with me (my 'research' category got a bump, too). That kind of weekend is extremely rare. Another change is that my son no longer naps in the afternoon, and I'm experimenting with bringing my daughter down to one nap. Additionally I've begun homeschooling my son, so he's getting more one-on-one time than he was over the summer. All of this conspires to take away more of my self-care time, which I really can't let happen.
I'll keep a log for four or five weeks again, and see how it compares. I think the only real change I'll make is that 'driving' will become it's own separate category, since that adds anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour and a half to whatever I'm doing outside the house, and inflates the amount of time I log exercising or worshiping.
It is a bit tedious keeping the log (and even more so analyzing it) but I highly recommend doing this if you feel like you're not getting anything done, or if you're not sure if your actions agree with your stated priorities. And as for getting all that time to read, make crafts, and do fun things? I guess now I'm looking forward to being an empty-nester.
Well, now I'm married and home with my kids all day, and I can't figure out where the time goes. I feel like I'm super-busy, but I can't really point to anything I've accomplished at the end of each day. My house isn't as clean as it used to be, I have less time for reading, almost no time for crafts, and TV is something the kids watch when I really need to get something else done.
I really wanted to know where my time was going, so I ran a little experiment. Starting in late June and going throughout July, I kept a log of everything I did each day for five weeks, divided into fifteen minute increments (yes, I really am that anal). Unfortunately it was a handwritten log, and I didn't try to do anything with the data until I had it all. It's taken me nearly two months to find the time to do my data entry and analysis.
But anyway, here we are, and the first thing I have to say is: thank goodness for multitasking! I kept track of when I was doing something with all my attention, as well as when I was doing multiple things at once. When I added up how much time I spent doing things, I came up with a total of 1,066.75 hours of activities. There are only 840 hours in a five-week period. That means I actually did six weeks, two days, ten hours, and forty-eight minutes worth of activities in five weeks. That averages out to needing 30 hours and 28 minutes to do what I need to do each day. No wonder I'm tired all the time!
At first glance, it looks like I spend 637 hours, or 59.7% of my time, doing one thing at a time, and 429.75 hours, or 40.3% of my time multitasking. But that's misleading, because by definition one can't sleep while multitasking, and I spent 264.5 hours (or 24.8% of my time) sleeping or trying to sleep. (I'm a chronic insomniac, so much of that time was spent trying to sleep, but it's impossible to break out how much time was spent trying, and how much time was spent actually sleeping. If I had to guess, I'd say at least a quarter of that time was trying to sleep.) If you just look at my waking hours, I spent only 372.5 hours (or 34.9% of my time) doing one thing at a time. Without multitasking, I'd be lost.
So what did I spend all my time doing? Well, we already know that sleeping or trying to sleep accounted for 24.8%. That wasn't what I spent the most time doing, however. Taking care of my kids took up 24.9% of my time, and spending time with my husband came in third at 19.3%. But it's interesting how those numbers broke out. Of the 265.25 hours I spent with my kids, 174 of them (or 65.6%) were spent multitasking, while the other 91.25 hours (or 34.4%) were spent doing nothing else but taking care of them. On the other hand, of the 206.25 hours I spent with my husband, for 126 of them (or 61%) my attention was entirely on him, and I only multitasked for 80.25 hours (or 38.9%) with him. So while my kids get more time with me overall, my husband gets more focused time with me than they do.
Taking care of my family and trying to sleep accounts for 69% of my time. Self care (the combination of personal hygiene, reading for pleasure, personal 'alone' time, attending worship, spending time with friends, and exercising) accounts for 6.9% of my time. Professional development (research and writing) accounts for 6.2% of my time, and I waste (watching TV or mindlessly surfing the web) 5.3% of my time. Some of that is a little misleading, because I'm sure some of the time I called 'research' really should have been categorized under 'mindless web surfing.' Also, nearly half the time I logged as 'exercising' (9.25 hours) was actually spent driving to and from the gym. That leaves me with 12.6% of my time to cook, clean, eat, run errands, manage the household finances, manage my husband's company's finances, and do crafts, plus write sermons and lead worship if I'm called to fill in for a vacationing pastor (which I did four of the five Sundays included in my log). That's three hours and fifty minutes per day of my 30 hour, 28 minute long days.
It's been interesting to see if how I spend my time matches up with my stated priorities. Overall, the answer is yes, because my family is my top priority, and I spend 44.2% of my total time (or 58.8% of my waking hours) engaging with them. On the other hand, I see some areas I need to fix. I don't have enough hours in the day to waste 5.3% of my time on mindless web surfing or TV. And I'd like to be able to spend more time writing. While 6.2% might be the best I can do right now, that was two-thirds research to one-third writing. I think much of my 'research' is just an excuse, and I need to reverse that ratio. I also need to spend more time on self-care. You can't see it in the averages, but a lot of my personal time was grouped together in large blocks every few weeks, because I just burned out and shut down, and had to hole up while my husband took care of the kids. I need to be more intentional about taking time for me and doing something that I find enjoyable (like reading for pleasure) rather than mindlessly wasting time. I've already begun to exercise a lot more.
I think I'm going to run this experiment again. In addition to the changes I want to make or have already made, some things are different now than they were in June. For one thing, now that the fall programming has begun, I'm no longer being called for pulpit supply nearly every week, so I actually get to worship again. However, this does cut down on my personal time, because I was taking some time for myself after church rather than going straight home. Now I've got the kids with me at church. Also in July, my husband and I attended Readercon 22, which resulted in two solid days where I didn't interact with my kids at all, and my husband got a lot of one-on-one time with me (my 'research' category got a bump, too). That kind of weekend is extremely rare. Another change is that my son no longer naps in the afternoon, and I'm experimenting with bringing my daughter down to one nap. Additionally I've begun homeschooling my son, so he's getting more one-on-one time than he was over the summer. All of this conspires to take away more of my self-care time, which I really can't let happen.
I'll keep a log for four or five weeks again, and see how it compares. I think the only real change I'll make is that 'driving' will become it's own separate category, since that adds anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour and a half to whatever I'm doing outside the house, and inflates the amount of time I log exercising or worshiping.
It is a bit tedious keeping the log (and even more so analyzing it) but I highly recommend doing this if you feel like you're not getting anything done, or if you're not sure if your actions agree with your stated priorities. And as for getting all that time to read, make crafts, and do fun things? I guess now I'm looking forward to being an empty-nester.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Identifying with the Church-Harmed
I've been doing a lot of pulpit supply since I returned to Massachusetts, mostly at the church where I'm a sort-of member. I've actually preached there five Sundays out of the last seven, which is good, because I never could have preached the sermon I preached on Sunday if I weren't known to and had established trust with the congregation. In order to preach the sermon I was led to preach, I had to get personal, and I don't do that with congregations I don't know.
The gospel lesson I was preaching on was from Matthew, when Jesus asks his disciples, "Who do people say that the Son of Man is?" and then, "But who do you say that I am?" (The full passage was Matthew 16:13-20, if you're interested.) When preparing to write the sermon, I found a note written next to this passage in my bible, probably from a text study I attended years ago: Outsiders' opinion of Jesus. Why does the Church today need to hear what non-church people say about the Church? What do we do with that information? And with that old notation, the direction for my sermon was set. I needed to explore what Christians do that give non-Christians the impression that we're angry, unhappy, judgmental hypocrites, or else simplistic and too stupid to really understand what's going on around us (because let's face it: when you see Christians depicted in movies and on television, that's usually how we're portrayed). Sure, there are the obvious culprits like Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson, but we can't lay all the blame at their feet. There are a lot of ordinary, non-famous and non-controversial Christians out there who do a lot of harm to others, and give both Christianity and God a bad name while doing so.
And that's where my sermon had to get personal. I am one of the Church-harmed, and my own story demonstrates the point I was trying to make better than an over-the-top Falwell or Robertson foot-in-mouth moment that most people can simply dismiss as idiocy.
I was first harmed by the Church (my capitalization here is intentional) when I was thirteen years old. I'd been attending CCD at the same Catholic Church since kindergarten, at the same church I'd been baptized in, and where my parents had been married. At the beginning of 8th grade they signed me up for CCD automatically, but no one bothered to tell me where and when to report. So I missed the first class. The next day in Social Studies several schoolmates, who were also in that CCD class, told me that the teacher (CCD wasn't taught by the priest) had told everyone there that I was the spawn of the devil because I obviously didn't care about learning about God, and that their eternal souls would be at risk if they associated with me. Fortunately for me, they weren't too worried about their eternal souls, so I didn't lose any friends over this. That church did lose a member (me only--my parents had already stopped going because the Church didn't recognize their divorce), and once I got confirmed later that year (at another Catholic Church in the center of town--my mother made me), I left the Catholic Church and never looked back.
The second time was four years later, when I was attending an evangelical church with a friend. We were going on a ski trip to Vermont, but the bus that had been chartered to take us there never showed up. The youth pastor organized us into cars driven by adult volunteers, without informing our parents of the change. The volunteer driving the car I was in drove recklessly and caused a serious accident. No one was killed, but I missed nearly two months of school recovering from my injuries, and then spent several more months unable to walk without the assistance of crutches or a cane. My mother sued the church, and I was then informed by some of the leadership that I was an unrepentant sinner beyond all hope of salvation.
Fast forward through my years of atheism, militant church-hating, and then eventual return and even (shock, horror, and awe) ordination, to a first call with a workaholic senior pastor who was unable to share leadership and allow me the autonomy to minister according to my own gifts, to a second call at a level three conflict congregation (a fact that was known to the synod, but was hidden from me). Because I wasn't aware of the dynamics going in, I didn't provide the correct leadership for that level of conflict, and it quickly became level four. That last experience caused serious spiritual harm to me and to my family, and has me questioning whether or not I ever want to have anything to do with congregational ministry again.
And the reason I put all of this into my sermon is because all this harm was caused by other Christians, and we as Christians need to know that our words and our actions matter. I called myself one of the Church-harmed earlier, because I've discovered that there's a disturbingly large number of people who have been harmed by the Church in similar ways. We are pastors who have been spiritually and emotionally destroyed by abusive congregations. We are church members who have been exploited and condemned by abusive pastors. We are seekers who have been judged and convicted by well-meaning believers who are convinced that their understanding alone is sufficient to determine who is worthy of God's love, and who is not. We are still on the fringes, trying to find our place in the Church. We are seeking acceptance and belonging in secular circles, wanting nothing to do with the Church. We're okay with God, but don't want anything to do with the people of God. We're not okay with God, because who wants to be okay with a God who lets his* people treat others like that? Or it doesn't matter if we're okay with God or not, because our experiences with Christians have convinced us that there is no God.
I now identify with this group. And who knows--maybe my calling as a pastor is to reach out to others like me, and to make sure a part of the Church is safe for those who have been harmed by it before.
Assuming the Church doesn't totally beat me down first.
*I disagree with the current efforts to use only gender-neutral language for God, but I'll save that for another post at a later time.
The gospel lesson I was preaching on was from Matthew, when Jesus asks his disciples, "Who do people say that the Son of Man is?" and then, "But who do you say that I am?" (The full passage was Matthew 16:13-20, if you're interested.) When preparing to write the sermon, I found a note written next to this passage in my bible, probably from a text study I attended years ago: Outsiders' opinion of Jesus. Why does the Church today need to hear what non-church people say about the Church? What do we do with that information? And with that old notation, the direction for my sermon was set. I needed to explore what Christians do that give non-Christians the impression that we're angry, unhappy, judgmental hypocrites, or else simplistic and too stupid to really understand what's going on around us (because let's face it: when you see Christians depicted in movies and on television, that's usually how we're portrayed). Sure, there are the obvious culprits like Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson, but we can't lay all the blame at their feet. There are a lot of ordinary, non-famous and non-controversial Christians out there who do a lot of harm to others, and give both Christianity and God a bad name while doing so.
And that's where my sermon had to get personal. I am one of the Church-harmed, and my own story demonstrates the point I was trying to make better than an over-the-top Falwell or Robertson foot-in-mouth moment that most people can simply dismiss as idiocy.
I was first harmed by the Church (my capitalization here is intentional) when I was thirteen years old. I'd been attending CCD at the same Catholic Church since kindergarten, at the same church I'd been baptized in, and where my parents had been married. At the beginning of 8th grade they signed me up for CCD automatically, but no one bothered to tell me where and when to report. So I missed the first class. The next day in Social Studies several schoolmates, who were also in that CCD class, told me that the teacher (CCD wasn't taught by the priest) had told everyone there that I was the spawn of the devil because I obviously didn't care about learning about God, and that their eternal souls would be at risk if they associated with me. Fortunately for me, they weren't too worried about their eternal souls, so I didn't lose any friends over this. That church did lose a member (me only--my parents had already stopped going because the Church didn't recognize their divorce), and once I got confirmed later that year (at another Catholic Church in the center of town--my mother made me), I left the Catholic Church and never looked back.
The second time was four years later, when I was attending an evangelical church with a friend. We were going on a ski trip to Vermont, but the bus that had been chartered to take us there never showed up. The youth pastor organized us into cars driven by adult volunteers, without informing our parents of the change. The volunteer driving the car I was in drove recklessly and caused a serious accident. No one was killed, but I missed nearly two months of school recovering from my injuries, and then spent several more months unable to walk without the assistance of crutches or a cane. My mother sued the church, and I was then informed by some of the leadership that I was an unrepentant sinner beyond all hope of salvation.
Fast forward through my years of atheism, militant church-hating, and then eventual return and even (shock, horror, and awe) ordination, to a first call with a workaholic senior pastor who was unable to share leadership and allow me the autonomy to minister according to my own gifts, to a second call at a level three conflict congregation (a fact that was known to the synod, but was hidden from me). Because I wasn't aware of the dynamics going in, I didn't provide the correct leadership for that level of conflict, and it quickly became level four. That last experience caused serious spiritual harm to me and to my family, and has me questioning whether or not I ever want to have anything to do with congregational ministry again.
And the reason I put all of this into my sermon is because all this harm was caused by other Christians, and we as Christians need to know that our words and our actions matter. I called myself one of the Church-harmed earlier, because I've discovered that there's a disturbingly large number of people who have been harmed by the Church in similar ways. We are pastors who have been spiritually and emotionally destroyed by abusive congregations. We are church members who have been exploited and condemned by abusive pastors. We are seekers who have been judged and convicted by well-meaning believers who are convinced that their understanding alone is sufficient to determine who is worthy of God's love, and who is not. We are still on the fringes, trying to find our place in the Church. We are seeking acceptance and belonging in secular circles, wanting nothing to do with the Church. We're okay with God, but don't want anything to do with the people of God. We're not okay with God, because who wants to be okay with a God who lets his* people treat others like that? Or it doesn't matter if we're okay with God or not, because our experiences with Christians have convinced us that there is no God.
I now identify with this group. And who knows--maybe my calling as a pastor is to reach out to others like me, and to make sure a part of the Church is safe for those who have been harmed by it before.
Assuming the Church doesn't totally beat me down first.
*I disagree with the current efforts to use only gender-neutral language for God, but I'll save that for another post at a later time.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Context, Costume, and Identity
Under the best of circumstances, my children's sermons suck. This past Sunday was no exception. And it was not the best of circumstances.
I'd just invited the children to come forward, and they'd all come up (all four of them--not bad, actually, for the middle of summer) and assembled themselves in a line, sitting on the stair leading up to the chancel area. I took a breath and opened my mouth, about to launch into my vain attempt to be interesting and informative to the average six year old, when one of them spoke up and demanded, "Where's the pastor?"
I was the only adult standing, I'd led the liturgy up to this point (with the assisting minister and reader--great lay leadership and participation in this congregation!), my clerical collar peeked out the top of my alb, and my stole matched (more or less) the paraments on the pulpit and altar. Several people in the congregation snickered in their amusement as I said to the child, "I'm the pastor." He looked at me in stark disbelief, and I heard more snickering as I found myself having to explain, "I know I'm not your regular pastor, but he's on vacation, and I'm filling in while he's away." The kid seemed to accept that, and I was finally able to launch into my poorly crafted children's sermon, which flopped as usual, and then they were free to go back to their seats and I was free to go back to my comfort zone in the pulpit. But that child's question, and the fact that he hadn't recognized me as pastor even while I was in full costume and doing all the things a pastor does during worship stuck with me.
Anyone can wear the costume and say they're a pastor, but that doesn't mean they are one. Even someone wearing all the appropriate clothes and doing all the appropriate things in a worship setting can just as easily be an imposter.
That innocent question from a confused child had exposed me for what I'd been feeling like all along. When I don the uniform and stand up there on Sunday mornings, I feel like an imposter. Even though I'm technically in good standing with my roster status listed as "On Leave From Call - Family Leave," I also can't forget that some have labeled me (and I've labeled myself, if I'm going to be honest about it) as a "failed pastor." My last call went horribly wrong for a variety of reasons, and I enjoyed no coverage or support from my bishop or his staff. It's unclear if I could get another call now even if I wanted to (which, right now, I most certainly do not want). I've done nothing pastoral for a solid year (no preaching, no worship planning or leadership, no teaching, no visiting, nothing). The moment I returned to Massachusetts and made myself known to a few pastors in the New England Synod, I was immediately sucked back into the vortex of pulpit supply. But despite the three weeks I've already served as substitute pastor, with two more to go (and still counting), I've not felt like a pastor. At all.
An hour and a half after that six year old asked me that question, I showed up for the last day's programming of Readercon 22.
Readercon is an annual convention of science fiction and fantasy writers and fans. Unlike other science fiction conventions, Readercon focuses almost exclusively on the craft of writing. I learned about it from my husband, who is an avid reader of the genre. I have nothing against science fiction myself, but it's never particularly grabbed me, either. However, because Readercon focuses so heavily on the craft of writing, most of the panels are of interest to a nonfiction writer and aspiring writer of literary (opposed to speculative) fiction, like me.
I'd attended the previous two days of programming as well, and I'd pretty much blended into the scenery. On Sunday, however, I'd come straight from worship, and even though I'd left my stole, alb, and pectoral cross in the car, I was still wearing my tabbed black clergy shirt and black skirt. This time, I was noticed.
Why didn't I de-tab before going in? I could have. But I think I was rebelling against an anti-religious sentiment that had been pervading the entire convention. Earlier in the weekend, at different panels, I'd heard religion (particularly Christianity) referred to as -- at best -- a "silly superstition" and -- at worst -- a "dangerous colonial imperialism" that "oppressed" people. The context was inappropriate for a debate on the merits of my particular theology, but I was in no mood to hide my beliefs, either. I had a legitimate reason to be wearing that collar; I wasn't about to 'camouflage' my uniform because many of the people there didn't think much of what it represented.
The reaction to me was mixed. Some people asked me, politely and (I interpreted) out of genuine curiosity, what brought me to Readercon. I recognize that some of the anti-religious sentiment was triggered by some Christians' very vocal opposition to the science fiction and fantasy genres as a whole. All of it has been categorically dismissed as 'pagan' or 'devil-inspired.' My presence was a curiosity, and my uniform combined with my bearing and manner (i.e. I was engaging with the panels the way everyone else was, rather than pounding a bible and threatening hell and damnation on everyone who wouldn't repent and be saved) made me an approachable representative of Christianity. Some talked to me about religion. Others disregarded my attire and talked to me as a human being (how refreshing!). Others gave me a very wide berth when I walked down the hallway. But no one attacked me.
And through it all, it felt right to me. I knew I was wearing 'distinctive' clothing, but it felt more like a uniform than a costume. I felt like the clerical collar represented who I was and what I believed. As I talked with people, I was even able to bring legitimacy to my claims of being a writer because of the writing I've done in the course of my ministry. I'm a writer who ministers. I'm a minister who writes. I can't do one without the other.
Officially, I'm in a period of discernment as I focus on raising my kids. (At least that's my justification for staying on the roster, rather than just dropping off.) I think what I need to discern is why I feel more like a pastor at a gathering of non-religious science fiction writers and fans, but I feel like an imposter at church. What is my calling, anyway?
I'd just invited the children to come forward, and they'd all come up (all four of them--not bad, actually, for the middle of summer) and assembled themselves in a line, sitting on the stair leading up to the chancel area. I took a breath and opened my mouth, about to launch into my vain attempt to be interesting and informative to the average six year old, when one of them spoke up and demanded, "Where's the pastor?"
I was the only adult standing, I'd led the liturgy up to this point (with the assisting minister and reader--great lay leadership and participation in this congregation!), my clerical collar peeked out the top of my alb, and my stole matched (more or less) the paraments on the pulpit and altar. Several people in the congregation snickered in their amusement as I said to the child, "I'm the pastor." He looked at me in stark disbelief, and I heard more snickering as I found myself having to explain, "I know I'm not your regular pastor, but he's on vacation, and I'm filling in while he's away." The kid seemed to accept that, and I was finally able to launch into my poorly crafted children's sermon, which flopped as usual, and then they were free to go back to their seats and I was free to go back to my comfort zone in the pulpit. But that child's question, and the fact that he hadn't recognized me as pastor even while I was in full costume and doing all the things a pastor does during worship stuck with me.
Anyone can wear the costume and say they're a pastor, but that doesn't mean they are one. Even someone wearing all the appropriate clothes and doing all the appropriate things in a worship setting can just as easily be an imposter.
That innocent question from a confused child had exposed me for what I'd been feeling like all along. When I don the uniform and stand up there on Sunday mornings, I feel like an imposter. Even though I'm technically in good standing with my roster status listed as "On Leave From Call - Family Leave," I also can't forget that some have labeled me (and I've labeled myself, if I'm going to be honest about it) as a "failed pastor." My last call went horribly wrong for a variety of reasons, and I enjoyed no coverage or support from my bishop or his staff. It's unclear if I could get another call now even if I wanted to (which, right now, I most certainly do not want). I've done nothing pastoral for a solid year (no preaching, no worship planning or leadership, no teaching, no visiting, nothing). The moment I returned to Massachusetts and made myself known to a few pastors in the New England Synod, I was immediately sucked back into the vortex of pulpit supply. But despite the three weeks I've already served as substitute pastor, with two more to go (and still counting), I've not felt like a pastor. At all.
An hour and a half after that six year old asked me that question, I showed up for the last day's programming of Readercon 22.
Readercon is an annual convention of science fiction and fantasy writers and fans. Unlike other science fiction conventions, Readercon focuses almost exclusively on the craft of writing. I learned about it from my husband, who is an avid reader of the genre. I have nothing against science fiction myself, but it's never particularly grabbed me, either. However, because Readercon focuses so heavily on the craft of writing, most of the panels are of interest to a nonfiction writer and aspiring writer of literary (opposed to speculative) fiction, like me.
I'd attended the previous two days of programming as well, and I'd pretty much blended into the scenery. On Sunday, however, I'd come straight from worship, and even though I'd left my stole, alb, and pectoral cross in the car, I was still wearing my tabbed black clergy shirt and black skirt. This time, I was noticed.
Why didn't I de-tab before going in? I could have. But I think I was rebelling against an anti-religious sentiment that had been pervading the entire convention. Earlier in the weekend, at different panels, I'd heard religion (particularly Christianity) referred to as -- at best -- a "silly superstition" and -- at worst -- a "dangerous colonial imperialism" that "oppressed" people. The context was inappropriate for a debate on the merits of my particular theology, but I was in no mood to hide my beliefs, either. I had a legitimate reason to be wearing that collar; I wasn't about to 'camouflage' my uniform because many of the people there didn't think much of what it represented.
The reaction to me was mixed. Some people asked me, politely and (I interpreted) out of genuine curiosity, what brought me to Readercon. I recognize that some of the anti-religious sentiment was triggered by some Christians' very vocal opposition to the science fiction and fantasy genres as a whole. All of it has been categorically dismissed as 'pagan' or 'devil-inspired.' My presence was a curiosity, and my uniform combined with my bearing and manner (i.e. I was engaging with the panels the way everyone else was, rather than pounding a bible and threatening hell and damnation on everyone who wouldn't repent and be saved) made me an approachable representative of Christianity. Some talked to me about religion. Others disregarded my attire and talked to me as a human being (how refreshing!). Others gave me a very wide berth when I walked down the hallway. But no one attacked me.
And through it all, it felt right to me. I knew I was wearing 'distinctive' clothing, but it felt more like a uniform than a costume. I felt like the clerical collar represented who I was and what I believed. As I talked with people, I was even able to bring legitimacy to my claims of being a writer because of the writing I've done in the course of my ministry. I'm a writer who ministers. I'm a minister who writes. I can't do one without the other.
Officially, I'm in a period of discernment as I focus on raising my kids. (At least that's my justification for staying on the roster, rather than just dropping off.) I think what I need to discern is why I feel more like a pastor at a gathering of non-religious science fiction writers and fans, but I feel like an imposter at church. What is my calling, anyway?
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