10 Year Anniversary

Ten years ago today I was ordained. A lot has happened in my life in those ten years, and who knows what's ahead in the next ten, but I will never get that lovely autumn morning when I took my vows, put on my robe, and raised my hands for the benediction.

Thanks to Eastern Avenue CRC for providing me with a party that day that I'll never forget, and for letting this wet-behind-the-ears rookie pastor your church for 8 years. What a ride!

BoT

Remember when I told y'all that I'd been elected to the Board of Trustees of the Christian Reformed Church in North America*? It was back in June, during our discussions about Synod.

Well, my first meetings as a BoT member begin this evening and will continue through Saturday noon. Yes, that's right. Three days of meetings. You're green with envy, I can see that from here. Green.

One friend and colleague who served 6 years on the BoT (6 years?! What have I gotten myself into?!) said she actually enjoyed it. But this is also the friend who currently teaches church polity at the seminary, so she's kinda the queen of church meetings.

In any case, I'm not sure how much blogging I'll be up for after being in meetings all day. But I am hoping that my appreciation for my ecclesiastical heritage will increase during the next few days. Living as I presently do within the bosom (note feminine imagery) of the denomination, teaching at its college and its seminary, at times I get a bit myopic about the CRCNA. Spending a few days with people from across the US and Canada will remind me of the reach of this church, and hopefully, the great things God is doing through this little outlet of 275,000 people known as the CRCNA.

*CRCNA is to remind all of us that there is a CRCP (Philippines), CRCJ (Japan), CRCA (Australia), etc. who have their own classes and synods. They may have been launched from the CRCNA, but are separate entities. Just a little FYI on this Wednesday.

Best College Prank Ever

Being that I now live and move and have my being in the life of a college, I found this particularly impressive and hilarious. The prank itself is genius, and posting the info on the web is very 2006. Watch the video all the way to the end, where you'll see the "pranked" walk into the room.

Enjoy, and kudos to those Brandeis students!

Internet Sabbath

A sobering realization for me came last weekend when I realized that so many of my instincts for engaging the world move through the medium of the internet. Sitting around the cabin thinking about exploring the surrounding environs, my instinct was to look up things online--nevermind that there's a binder chock full of brochures, maps, menus, etc., sitting on the endtable. What's the weather going to be? No way to call it up immediately or view the doppler radar on screen--guess we'll just look outside and wing it. Want to know the day's football scores? Try to catch them on the radio--or just wait till tomorrow.

It's amazing how not having the internet as an option lent an air of calm to my being. There was no way to check email so there was no pull to do so. There was no way to look things up online, so we just let the day unfold as it did, weather and all.

There's a sense in which having all of this information at our fingertips all the time seems to mandate that we access it; that we should know the weather, the football scores, the latest Daily Show bit, the breaking world news. We (I'm projecting here, maybe it's just "I") get compulsive about knowing what there is to know: what's the news on the Calvin site, what's going on in Iraq, when does the President speak at the U.N., who won the Republican primary in Rhode Island, how many times was Brady Quinn intercepted last week?

Spending some time away from this and yet still in my life (that is, in Michigan on a weekend and not out of state on a lengthy vacation), brought to stark reality how much of this information I use to fill time. I read at least one newspaper and a handful of blogs online everyday. I click on destop weather with regularity. My home page collects items from 4 different news sources, including one completely devoted to sports. I have a favorite comic strip that updates daily. I get The Writer's Almanac delivered to my inbox. If I leave the house without at least checking my email and my homepage, I feel unprepared for the day.

What's that about?

What it's about are these things, as I realized this weekend: I like being in the know. I like to be ready to converse with people about everything from Hizbollah to the Detroit Tigers (who seem to have gone precipitously downhill since friends and I were at their game...hmmmm.....). On the plus side you can say that I like to be a good conversationalist. The negative read? I don't want to look stupid. I don't want someone to reference something and be caught ignorant. Oddly, there's a pride issue woven into this online compulsion.

And here's the deeper heart issue: I avoid true solitude. I live alone, so one could argue that much of my life is spent in solitude. But true solitude includes an openness to the Spirit of God, a quieting of one's soul, a calming of one's internal noise in order to listen to the proddings of YHWH.

This came screeching into my consciousness when I discovered that once Marie left the cabin and I was left to my own devices, I filled time with the chores that needed to be done: I did the laundry, changed sheets, cleaned the kitchen. And I could feel the proddings of YHWH: "What are you doing? You need this. You have stuff to sort through. You are in a quiet, lovely spot and you are washing dishes? Come away, by yourself, to a quiet spot and get some rest."

So revealing. How I fill my life with internal noise so as to avoid the harder spiritual work that God is inviting me to do. And "harder" there means hard to enter, as my deepest sorrows and greatest anxieties come to the fore in the presence of God. Who wants to go there? But upon entering I am reminded that YHWH cradles me in his love, that he sees my tears, hears my sorrows, delights in my joys.

It takes me a while to see YHWH as this--to see him as he is--because my images of him are so cluttered up with the pale earthly metaphors we use to name him: father, for example. Or almighty. Or lord. God can sound horribly intimidating (and he is, let's not forget). But if I let the intimidation be the sum of my experience with the Divine I will stay away in an effort of self-protection. Instead I must see him as the One Who Protects, the One Who Loves, gentle, humble, calm, inviting. And I'll never get there if I clutter up my heart.

So, a new idea: no internet from sundown Saturday to sundown Sunday. An internet sabbath built into my week. A regular reminder to clear out my head and open my heart and receive God's invitation: Come away, by yourself, to a quiet spot and get some rest.

Up North

After the night at the fair, I drove north to meet up with my best friend at a cabin owned by dear and generous people. The owner of the cabin, my friend Rick, emailed me last week and said, "It's short notice, but Beulah View is open this weekend. Would you like to go?"

Yes, please! Beulah View earned it's name because it's in Beulah, Michigan, and, as you'll see, has an amazing view.

Marie left her family and I left my dog and we spent all of Saturday doing our favorite things. Marie rode her bike, we went for a run/hike on this trail that ended with a lookout over Lake Michigan, we shopped, ate, talked, sang, laughed, bought fruit from a farm stand.... We called it "Mary and Marie's Day of Joy."

The only (slight) wrinkle was when Marie was pulled over by a state trooper as we were trying to make it to the cabin to see the sun set. (It was one of the most amazing sunsets I've ever seen.) But the trooper was kind and, well, fine, so even that didn't bother us that much. ;-)

Here we are on our run. A professional photographer was there taking pictures of a local high school senior, so he snapped a few of us with Marie's digital camera.


This is Beulah View.

This is Beulah's View.

Marie headed back early Sunday morning, and I spent Sunday resting, writing (not for work), and reading. This here is a shot of the "resting" part of the day.

Ahh..the view from the hammock on a warm Sunday afternoon.

It was such a great respite, and so needed for both of us. It was my first Saturday morning without a big training event since early June, and Marie's first day away from Christian since he was born. 36 hours without internet was also really good for me, but I'll write more about that later...

For now, thanks to our generous and hospitable friends! As my friend Shirley says, "When you get to be a certain age, the phrase 'friends with benefits' means something completely different." :-)

A Night at the Fair --in pictures!

The night at the fair was a big success, complete with all the fair things I mentioned before: big pumpkins, little horses, booths from the Hamilton Farm Bureau and the Allegan County Democrats (Yes, Virginia, there are Allegan County Democrats...), fried food of all shapes and sizes, carnies with tatoos and smokers' coughs, and three very happy children....

Ryan and I rode the scrambler together while the girls watched (they were too short). Ryan, as you can probably guess, is 11.

Bethany and Katie are in the second car. Every time their little coaster came over this crest, Bethany looked exactly the same: like this was the best thing she had ever done in her life. They stumbled off the ride laughing and grinning.

Bethany rode the carousel, too, treating us to a different face just about every time she went around. She just cracks me up.

Ryan on the Tilt-A-Whirl. Yes, that is a glow-in-the-dark guitar-playing skeleton on his shirt. His grandma thought it was cool. His mom? Not so much.

Katie on the bumper cars. A younger girl was later placed in the car with her, and Katie was so kind to her. It was cool to see.

Dinner! Fried dough or a chili dog? Nope, these kids wanted the humungo baked potatoes.

Bethany in the light of the setting sun. Happy kid.

Dessert! A carmel apple for Ryan and cotton candy for the girls. You can see the fish pond game in the back, which we did next, followed by the darts and balloons game which each of them did with success.

We walked back to the car slightly dizzy, full of sugar, and carrying silly little stuffed creatures. Perfect.

A Night at the Fair

This evening I'm taking my nephew and nieces to the Allegan County Fair. I went to this fair as a kid and loved it: the rides, the food, the animal barns, the baked goods contest, the giant pumpkins, and the games that looked easy but weren't. Since it is Allegan County, I also have buttons from my childhood visits to the fair that say things like "Allegan County: Reagan Country," or "Guy Vander Jagt: For Congress. For You." With the midterm elections ahead, I'm sure the Reps and Dems will be at their booths, propaganda in hand.

I went with these kids last year and they had a blast. They actually live in Ottawa County and have entered their artwork in that fair in previous years and have won awards. Their maternal grandfather, whom they call "Gramps," is a wonderful painter who has passed on his skills to them. When I was a child, my mom entered her sewing projects and her canning into the Allegan Fair and she, too, won prizes. She did not pass those skills on to me. I should amend that: she tried. I just have no fine motor skills for the sewing and canning a bushel of peaches for one person seems like overkill.

The weather is clearing up and it should be a great night to indulge in my chief task as an aunt: spoiling these three kids and letting them have a night of fun. Last year on the drive out there I missed a turn and said a cuss word. They thought that was hilarious. Then I let them play any game they wanted and ride any ride they were tall enough to qualify for. They thought I was incredibly generous. I took pictures of them sitting in fire trucks and standing with their prizes and eating french fries. When the sun set, we watched the lights come on all over the fairgrounds and saw the spinning color of the ferris wheel.

And I was bit by a horse. Stupid horse. Other than that though, I hope tonight is a great redux of last year. Junk food and spinning rides and the smell of livestock in the air! Woo hoo!

Rhythms

I find myself yawning at 11:02 a.m., looking out on a cold, grey day that is more remniscent of November than mid-September. I'm cold. Just turned up the heat. I slept hard last night after a long day of teaching (all three of my classes are on Mondays), but find myself still sleepy. I long to go back to bed, but then, of course, I wouldn't sleep tonight and would find myself even sleepier tomorrow.

I haven't yet fallen into my weekly rhythm. After two years of grad school and a year of writing a dissertation, moving into this new job has taken some odd tolls on me. I'm not used to people anymore, not used to being "on" at regular times. I'm used to quiet, to reading, to writing, to solitude. And I still have those times, tucked in here and there, but they are set off by the hours I need to spend up in front, talking, entertaining, doing the song and dance that is my teaching style.

It used to be, pre-grad school, that I could do such things more regularly and with greater endurance: lead this meeting, teach this class, preach this sermon, repeat. Now I find that the energy stores deplete much more rapidly.

We are adaptable beings, we humans, and just as I slid easily from the active and full life of a parish minister into the quiet and unhurried life of a graduate student, I'm sure I will eventually find my rhythm as a college professor. But it ain't here yet.

I teach MWF, with Tuesdays and Thursdays open for prepping and working on other projects (like preparing my dissertation for "deposit," a hoop-jumping exercise that is comparable to winning the Kentucky Derby only to then be told that you now have to cool down the horse, bathe him, feed him, clean out his stall, be sure his shoes are mended just so, put a blanket over him, lock the barn and then and only then you can go to the party with the mint julips and the roses).

So my rhythm now feels like sprint/walk/sprint/walk/sprint, which is leaving me tired with no real reason to feel so. "Come on," I tell myself, "You teach three days a week. You have plenty of time for research and writing. You don't even have any 8 o'clock classes. Get over yourself."

But then a kinder voice surfaces and says, "You've been at this for one week. Give yourself a break. Starting a new job is a challenging deal and, by the way, you just did a triathlon. And it's cold and grey. You're a little tired? OF COURSE you are. Take a few deep breaths, make a cup of tea, and go read a novel."

Every now and then the kinder voice wins. Tea, anyone?

Braggin' Rights!

I did it! 2:23, beating my guess of 2:45 by 20 minutes! I am a little sore and tired, but deliriously proud of my accomplishment.

Here are some pictures courtesy of Marie, who was out at the park by 7am to cheer me on. You can see that the weather was not ideal, rainy at the start and it grew cooler as the race went on. By the end, it was actually pretty cold out there. But I was numb to everything except the joy of finishing, so I didn't care!

The Start: I am somewhere in that mass of pink caps, splashing away, trying not to get kicked in the teeth or kick anyone else in the teeth. The swim was insane: thrashing bodies, zero visiblity in the water, and a U-shaped course that requires you to pick up your head every now and then and reorient yourself in the right direction. The swim is my strongest event; triathlons go in decreasing order of competence for me: swim, bike, run.

I am not a runner; not by a long shot. To quote Frasier Crane: I'm built for comfort, not for speed. But run I did, and as you can see, I was pretty dang happy about running under that big banner.

Yeah, baby! Totally geeked that I did this. Trained all summer, gathered the gear, and did it.

Delirious. No other word for it.

Fan Club Pic #1: Marie, Hannah, and me.

Fan Club Pic #2: Shirley, Ron, and me. So great to have my friends there at the end, celebrating with me and telling me how proud they are.

I'm pretty proud of me, too. :-)

If You Didn't Already Think I Was Crazy...

This weekend I will be participating in the Reeds Lake Triathlon. This race includes a half-mile swim in the murky waters of Reeds Lake (It's alive! It's ALIVE!), followed by an 18 mile bike ride out to Ada and back, and then a 5 mile run around the lake.

Yeah, I'm crazy.

I've been training all summer, and mostly I'm just eager to get the thing over with. Trying to fit in all three disciplines (as they are called) while finishing a dissertation and prepping for the first year of teaching has been a bit overwhelming at times.

On the plus side, my resting heart rate hasn't been this low in years.

There will be about 1000 competitors and as many spectators, and you're welcome to come down to the show. We swim in large heats, churning through the water like a bunch of hungry carp, then we drip to our bikes and attempt to pull jerseys, socks and shoes on our wet bodies and clip our bike shoes into our pedals without falling over. Then our still-wet bodies are submitted to the cold wind as we bike around the lake and out to Ada. We return, switch shoes, and tell our legs that now they need to move in a completely different direction and I don't care what you say, yes, we are running around the lake. (In my case, "jogging" or "moving forward" will be good enough.)

The first heat of swimmers splashes off at 7:30a. I've been told to get there by 6:30a to find a slot on the bike rack for my "transition area." If you would rather be in REM sleep at 6:30a on a Saturday morning, I can't blame you. But if you want to watch, bring a chair, warm beverages, and the paper. The swim is the best to watch, since you can view the whole course from the shore. Other than that you can see the transitions and the finish.

Oh, the finish. How I long for it; my soul, indeed my heart, aches for it. When shall I behold it? When shall my feet tread across it? You alone, O Lord, know. But I'm guessing somewhere between 10:30a and 11a.

Pray for no equipment problems (e.g. flat tires, goggles kicked off by another swimmer), decent weather, good energy through the whole race, and no crashes into other triathletes. And did I mention flat tires? Good sleep the night before, no odd digestive difficulties, a spirit of joy, and FINISHING are also high on my list of intercessory topics.

Yeah. I'm crazy. But you knew that already, didn'tcha?

Dress for Success

I pulled on my preaching robe this morning but today it had a new identity: regalia. Instead of a clerical collar and stole, it was accessorized with a mortorboard and a hood, both borrowed from the collection the college houses in the bowels of the FAC.

Each hood (the drape of fabric that a prof wears over her robe) represents her field of study and the school that awarded her degree. When I graduate (and lay out the cash for this snazzy gear), my hood will be royal blue on the outside (for communications) with navy blue and orange stripes on the inside (for Illinois).

I have no idea what the hood I wore today represents. Maybe it means I am a physicist from Texas A&M or a sociologist from UConn. I just know that it was lacking the string in the front that anchors it to the robe and prevents the wearer from being choked by velveteen. At regular intervals during the morning I had to yank it forward as an act of self-defense.

And I had this giant hat that needed a quartet of bobby pins to keep it anchored on my head. I think this took away from the whole "Cool Professor" look I was going for. Oh well.

I will say that it felt odd to be in that robe without a stole fluttering about in front. And when I was dressing I grabbed my collar and then realized with a start that I wouldn't need it.

A colleague of mine quipped to me before the event began that preaching is just like teaching, but teaching is for 50 minutes three times a week.

I know better. This gig is nothing like my old one, and leaving my collar at home was one more reminder of that. Will I like my new clothes? Will they fit? Only time will tell.

Nuff said.