tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62444810702980093012024-03-05T21:18:34.135-08:00amazing bongosamusings about pretty much everything random but in my own rhythm.revkjarlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03516266924883899536noreply@blogger.comBlogger187125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244481070298009301.post-52960276348002523852015-11-18T10:35:00.001-08:002015-11-18T10:35:08.156-08:00I have moved!!!Well, in cyberspace. <br />
Come check out my new blog, <a href="https://revkarlajeanmiller.wordpress.com/">Do. Love. Walk</a>. at<br />
<a href="https://revkarlajeanmiller.wordpress.com/">https://revkarlajeanmiller.wordpress.com</a>revkjarlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03516266924883899536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244481070298009301.post-85671772079097869462015-11-10T10:35:00.001-08:002015-11-10T10:35:37.424-08:00NaBloPoMo Day 10O.k.,<br />
so I am late the NaBloPoMo party. But today's prompt was an excellent one, and explains everything about why I am late.<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">"What is the hardest part of a big project: getting the energy to begin, finding the time to work on it, or feeling down that it's over?"</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;">Definitely for me, the energy to begin. I can work my way all around a project except for actually beginning. Writing sermons, for example. I can read my head full of discussions, blogposts, write liturgy, etc. etc. But getting that first sentence down...</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;">Or take the yoga videos on my desk. Right now I have an excuse, because I can't walk right now, let alone stand on two feet, (or one)....but I LOVE yoga. So I bought two beautiful videos to help me with a home practice---six months ago. They aren't even out of the wrapper. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;">Cleaning toilets. Well, o.k., hopefully not a BIG project, but a constant project, cleaning house. I can find all sorts of things to do instead of. Until I can't stand it anymore. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;">I love thinking about the project at hand. Dreaming it, seeing it, wondering about it....but getting started. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;">Oh my. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></span>revkjarlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03516266924883899536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244481070298009301.post-34384470598473706172015-05-12T08:35:00.001-07:002015-05-12T08:35:45.396-07:00A prayer for Tuesday. <div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
Holy, holy, holy…</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
Mercy, mercy, mercy…</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
Grace, grace, grace…</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
silence in my heart, breath filling my lungs, refreshing my bones and blood,</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
exhaling, centering, breathing. Over, and over, and over again until there is peace like a tiny river in my soul, for these moments at least.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
Holy, holy, holy One</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
have mercy. May I be your mercy.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
Graceful One,</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
might I live into your grace today.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
Amen.</div>
revkjarlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03516266924883899536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244481070298009301.post-74606853272771837222015-05-01T06:45:00.000-07:002015-05-01T07:20:40.381-07:00There's A Woman in the Pulpit: Christian Clergywomen Share their Hard Days, Holy Moments & the Healing Power of Humor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQHNM70hioKpx6WUAIRK6aadpjpiP6wS-auMLt1O1uKupcEaFIp9pShTRfsq1xPK96ZaDWGT27Jp0Pp50sg4lagQumc94vyyJ8oEnabOrw8cX_cnR_Gz_w_3cSYXUIf8yQy4IOSD594M5w/s1600/Woman+in+the+Pulpit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQHNM70hioKpx6WUAIRK6aadpjpiP6wS-auMLt1O1uKupcEaFIp9pShTRfsq1xPK96ZaDWGT27Jp0Pp50sg4lagQumc94vyyJ8oEnabOrw8cX_cnR_Gz_w_3cSYXUIf8yQy4IOSD594M5w/s1600/Woman+in+the+Pulpit.jpg" height="320" width="221" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Sweet Lord,<br />
I am remembering that day,<br />
so, so, so long ago<br />
when I was about 14 or 15 and a total church geek.<br />
Or, actually, could I have been 29 or 20 in college?<br />
What I remember is sitting in my grandmother's kitchen.<br />
That kitchen where I would sit at the table<br />
and watch her make donuts and <a href="http://www.claudiascookbook.com/2014/11/25/ukrainian-beef-filled-pyrizhky/">pyrizhky</a>, those meat-filled buns that were so good until I figured out what all that ground meat was ground FROM.<br />
That kitchen table where she would feed us cheerios for breakfast and <a href="http://www.candywarehouse.com/products/fizzies-candy-drink-tablets-packs-cherry-6-piece-box/?utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=Shopping&utm_term=%7Bkeyword%7D&gclid=Cj0KEQjwyIyqBRD4janGs5e67IsBEiQAoF8DGl--ejUKT44UGlD4zn_LgbGNJhdX47T82tdklHv9YvYaAi0_8P8HAQ">fizzies</a> for a treat.<br />
It was at that table that she looked at me and asked,<br />
"You will be a minister someday, maybe?"<br />
<br />
That was first of many call-seeds planted in my soul,<br />
and it came from a Ukrainian immigrant with a Seventh Day Adventist background but as far as I could tell she never went to church but she kneeled by her bed every night and said the Lord's Prayer.<br />
During the Great Depression, she kept her family fed and farm afloat from selling the eggs from her chicken coop. I will take a seed like that any day.<br />
<br />
But what I am trying to say, dear God, is that I am blown away by the myriad of seeds of call you fling across the world to call women to ministry. And I am so, so grateful. Because without my women colleagues, I wouldn't be half the pastor I am today. I am especially grateful for the RevGals, because I found them in a time of isolation, and over the years, deep connections have formed, dear friendships woven, and a dream team of colleagues advise me daily through the inter webs.<br />
<br />
And this book, oh! this book! Your Spirit is threaded and splashed and hidden and bold throughout the stories and prayers in this book. They resonate with my experience of ministry, and of You. Thank You for bathing it and blessing it, and may it be a blessing in your kin-dom here, and in all the places you have flung your whispering seeds of "you will be a minister someday, maybe?"--no matter what or how that is interpreted.<br />
<br />
Thanks be to you, Sweet Lord, thanks be.<br />
Amen.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://revgalblogpals.org/">There's A Woman In the Pulpit</a> can be purchased <a href="http://www.skylightpaths.com/page/product/978-1-59473-588-2">through the publisher, Skylights Path</a> or <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Theres-Woman-Pulpit-Christian-Clergywomen/dp/1594735883/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1430487643&sr=8-1&keywords=woman+in+the+pulpit">Amazon</a> where it the #1 New Release in Christian Books, and also at <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/theres-a-woman-in-the-pulpit-martha-spong/1120614143?ean=9781594735882">Barnes and Noble</a>. It is available in softcover or by e-book, but I highly recommend the soft cover (and I NEVER buy real live books anymore, but this is a book you are going to want to turn down the pages, hold, smile and cry over.)revkjarlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03516266924883899536noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244481070298009301.post-4803344759421968532015-04-20T07:54:00.000-07:002015-04-20T07:54:12.638-07:00yesterday...It was Sunday at 6:45 am.<br />
And I stood in a short line at Starbucks to order my venti cold pressed iced coffee-<br />
(whatever, it sounded good.)<br />
As I looked at the guy with the red sox jacket and the bespectacled barista and the woman in her snoopy pajama flannels,<br />
I wanted to just tell them:<br />
How wonderful is this day!<br />
You are beloved just how you are!<br />
And, guess what I get to do this morning?<br />
I get to tell other people they are beloved and empowered<br />
in face of their doubts and misgivings and anger,<br />
they still can be love in the world.<br />
AND<br />
I get to baptize a 12 week year old baby.<br />
I get to tell her she is beloved, and that she has a crowd of people who embrace her...<br />
I get to whisper in her ear,<br />
"You are God's special one, sweet thing, may you always know that"<br />
and then I will get to<br />
anoint her in the Holy Spirit.<br />
How strange and amazing is that?<br />
<br />
And, it was.<br />
Amen.<br />
<br />
<br />revkjarlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03516266924883899536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244481070298009301.post-25867569545819860012015-02-20T12:22:00.003-08:002015-02-20T12:22:37.806-08:00A Sunday Prayer, on Being Called...<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
Oh God…</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
You call us, </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
and some of us immediately get it,</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
because we are smacked up the side of our hearts</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial;">
<span style="font-size: 15px;">with your glory*, </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
and the only response is to drop everything</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
and go with you, </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
even though we don’t know or care about the details….</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
most of us</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
think You are crazy</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
although we are are so drawn to your love.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
We are the ones who take baby steps, </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
fall down, </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
get up, </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
and toddle again towards your grace</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
and your invitation</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
to accompany you.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
So we wander,</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
we wonder,</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
we walk,</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
and hope that being by Your side,</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
we reflect and share your love and hope</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
with the corners of the world in which we live.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
We tentatively drop our nets, </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
and serve the people and the world </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
which you love so much. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
Oh sweet Lord,</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
we pray, </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
we pray so much for that which you love,</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
for those whom you love--especially </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
the places in our world where people are suffering from war, political violence, from what we don’t know except it’s unspeakable.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
We offer our prayers</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
for those we know </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
who suffer from grief, loss, illness…</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
sadness,</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
desolation of heart,</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
or uncertain futures. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
We pray, for our earthhome, </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
who cries out everyday for your justice, and our care. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
Oh God,</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
You call us. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
We wonder, </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
We wander, </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
We stumble,</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
We drop our nets, </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
We cling to them, </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
We are flooded with your glory, </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
and in our disarray,</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
We want to follow you. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
We have decided,</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
to follow you. </div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
Amen. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(76, 76, 76); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> *Barbara Brown Taylor phrase</span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
revkjarlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03516266924883899536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244481070298009301.post-60028808742792693622015-02-20T11:57:00.000-08:002015-02-20T11:57:02.990-08:00A Prayer for Transfiguration<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
Holy One,</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
We come before you,</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
Many of us feeling like we have climbed just a part of the mountain,</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
and there is so much more of a climb left to even get to point to dream that we might be dazzled by what is Divine.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
Our loads are heavy,</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
with worry, with regret,</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
with fatigue, with illness,</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
with despair for all in the world that is hurting, in danger, in bondage and more.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
We trudge ahead, following you,</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
stumbling, hoping, praying…</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
breathing hard, hearts pounding, and yes,</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
even some of us are nimble and skipping.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
Lead us Lord,</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
to the top of that mountain,</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
where we might be dazzled by your Light,</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
lifted by what is Divine,</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
filled by the sheer delight of what is numinous and ethereal and grounded and real.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
We pray this,</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
for ourselves, for one another, and for the worlds in which we live in.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
Amen.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 12px; padding: 0px;">
(also posted at www.revgalblogpals.org)</div>
revkjarlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03516266924883899536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244481070298009301.post-83598761165067092632014-11-01T15:45:00.001-07:002014-11-01T15:45:44.185-07:00November 1, 2014 Meeting Friends...<div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">*I am participating in something called NaBloPoMo November 2014. It is a challenge to write everyday during the month of November. Saturday and Sunday are free writes, but Mary Beth over at RevGalBlogPals offered the following prompt:</span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div>
<b>RevGalBlogPals began around 2004/5 when a group of us somehow found each other on blogs. Today, write about how you met a friend/group of friends. Where? How? How has the relationship changed; how has it stayed the same?</b></span><div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">It was my first day of third grade, and at a new school. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Rickard Elementary. My teacher was named Mrs. Russell, and to my 8 year old self she was old and not very warm. Actually, in my mind, she looked like my Grandma Lee who died when I was very young. So, I was a little scared.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Plus, we had only been living in "town" for about a year. My mom had finally left my alcoholic father at the end of first grade--up until then, we had lived on our farm year round in Western North Dakota. We spent second grade in a tiny rental house near the first town school I had ever gone to. Imagine, going from a two room school house, where the entire first grade was four children, to town school, where there were three sections of second grade, 25 kids in a class! Not a great situation for a shy withdrawn 8 year old. But I made it through, made some friends, and was fine, for the most part. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">But then, my mom remarried. And with that marriage, we moved to a different neighborhood, and a different school and now there was Mrs. Russell. And a room full of 8 year olds. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I went home for </span><span style="font-family: lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">lunch that first day, and my step-dad asked me if a certain girl was in my class. Turned out, her sister was either married/dating my stepbrother (who I barely knew). I can't remember the exact timing. Indeed she was in my class, and went I went back to the playground to look for her. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">My memory is that she was playing marbles, but that could be fuzzy. I know we met on the playground. And we became fast friends. Dear friends. We were in the same class in 3, 4, 5 grade; and during junior high and senior high we continued to hang out. If it hadn't been for her, I think I would have been so very lost. I considered her my best friend. My heart friend. Soul friend. For years we kept a journal, that we passed back and forth, writing to each other intermittently and mailing it back and forth......we have stayed connected closely and loosely for the past 43 years. Perhaps more loosely in the past years, but to this day, I know she would have my back if I needed her. And I am grateful. </span></div>
revkjarlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03516266924883899536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244481070298009301.post-16775802648038377522014-07-24T12:17:00.001-07:002014-07-24T12:17:55.489-07:00A Summer Weekday, and a PrayerSo,<br />
I haven't written much for the past, oh, five months. <br />
But, I haven't really taken the time...I have been writing in other places--sermons, prayers, Facebook, etc.<br />
<br />
Today, though, it is very quiet in the office. I am now the only one here--the office is only open from 9-12, T-W-Th....and I have been taking my time today to do a few things I have wanted to do, but not gotten around to. Except for the two big things I really need to get to, which is the church website, and vacation bible school. <br />
<br />
Well, I did make 8 phone calls on advocating for the passing of a state bill regarding gun violence. That's good ministry, right?<br />
<br />
I find myself thinking back to a year ago. What a sad internal space I was in, as I was in limbo professionally. I am so grateful to have moved out of that space, and grateful to be in this interim place of ministry. It's exactly where I needed to land, and thank God that God knew that. I don't know if I was too sure, but I am glad that I said "yes!"<br />
<br />
I am coming up on 14 years of ordained ministry. Most of that ministry has been as an associate pastor, with lead pastoring during sabbaticals and medical leaves. Somehow, I think this is viewed as a blight on my record--but I have to say it's been great to have colleagues. I imagine my next move being to a solo or lead pastor; but it may not be. I was thinking that I need to remember that 14 years is a whole lot of rich experience, and that there is pretty much nothing I haven't experienced, and yet everyday is different and new. <br />
<br />
....and so I continue reflecting....on a warm Thursday afternoon. I met with my clergy community of practice, and what a beautiful, strong, smart group of colleagues. I don't know how I got so lucky to land in this group, but it is a saving grace, monthly. <br />
<br />
I am thinking about Matthew 13 today. About Words. About parables.<br />
About mustard seeds and leaven, treasures and pearls and fish.<br />
<br />
With that, I am going to simmer and go for a walk. <br />
<br />
Dear God,<br />
For this moment, this holy ordinary moment, I give you thanks. <br />
As I yell at the puppy "no, LEAVE IT" and the birds sing outside my window,<br />
As a cat mewls, and traffic swishes by,<br />
I give you thanks.<br />
As I remember sweet conversation with ministers,<br />
and enjoy a salad with herbs from my garden and fresh roasted corn,<br />
I give you thanks.<br />
<br />
I pray for all the places in the world that are going to hell in a hand basket.<br />
Child immigrants, war refugees, planes lost, planes gunned down,<br />
Roiling weather, a Holy land in fear and trembling and terror for all.<br />
God have mercy.<br />
God have mercy.<br />
God have mercy.<br />
<br />
Move my heart God,<br />
to be more justice in my life,<br />
to love more fiercely and courageously,<br />
and<br />
to walk with confidence and humbleness,<br />
into how and who and what You have called me to be and do.<br />
<br />
In the spirit of brother Jesus I pray,<br />
Amen.<br />
<br />
<br />revkjarlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03516266924883899536noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244481070298009301.post-87103621788915356572014-02-01T15:13:00.001-08:002014-02-01T15:13:48.516-08:00Sunday Prayer, Epiphany 4A, February 2, 2014<div style="color: #010000; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 16px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Holy One, </span></div>
<div style="color: #010000; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 16px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">You who calls us before mountains and hills, asking us to remember, all of what you have done, we shout to you our praise and thanksgiving, so that all of the valleys and foundations of the earth might hear of your deeds. </span></div>
<div style="color: #010000; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 16px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And when we forget to remember your presence, your working in our lives, we pray for forgiveness. We pray for your wisdom to move us to open our hearts and minds to you. </span></div>
<div style="color: #010000; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 16px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We pray for our world, </span></div>
<div style="color: #010000; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 16px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">for places that are wrought with war and fear, where refugees are forgotten, where children and elders are hungry because of the foolishness and hardheartedness of too many. We pray for shards of your blessing to break through to those who mourn, who hunger, who are poor in spirit. May they be comforted and filled and taste a bit of heaven somehow, some way. Help us to remember those suffer, and to never forget. </span></div>
<div style="color: #010000; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 16px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We pray for our leaders, our teachers, our mentors, and more--especially for those who hunger and thirst for righteousness for our earth home and for those who are persecuted. We pray for those who aren’t afraid to speak out, to appear foolish in the eyes of so many others, when they advocate for peace, for fair wages, for decent housing, for social services that work, for laws to protect children and elders; and ways to address climate change. </span></div>
<div style="color: #010000; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 16px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We pray for those around us, in our hearts, and next to us in the pews, for your spirit to protect them, challenge them, move them closer to your love. </span></div>
<div style="color: #010000; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 16px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Oh Holy One, you who calls us to testify before mountains and hills of your glory, may we serve this world in which you have given us life, </span></div>
<div style="color: #010000; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 16px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">by doing your justice, by loving all kindness, and walking humbly with You in all of the moments of our lives. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="color: #010000; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 16px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Amen. </span></div>
revkjarlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03516266924883899536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244481070298009301.post-62865308981068773142013-12-20T10:12:00.003-08:002013-12-20T10:12:57.410-08:00 a long quiet...I am feeling all quiet today. <div>
Not lost, but meandering through </div>
<div>
the interior hollows and curves of my being.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
There are those bustling 'round</div>
<div>
busy with whatever busy-ness there is, </div>
<div>
and yet, </div>
<div>
I am not.</div>
<div>
Busy. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I am all quiet today. </div>
<div>
No questions on my heart, </div>
<div>
no burdens I bear,</div>
<div>
really, to speak of. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I am all quiet today.</div>
<div>
I am thinking of people</div>
<div>
whom I know are very ill, </div>
<div>
very stressed, </div>
<div>
very sad, </div>
<div>
very joyful, </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
and </div>
<div>
I hold them in the </div>
<div>
Light of Life and Love.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I am all quiet today, </div>
<div>
my flame flickers gently, </div>
<div>
and </div>
<div>
in my quiet, </div>
<div>
I will wait. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Amen. </div>
revkjarlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03516266924883899536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244481070298009301.post-82734490873058105512013-11-30T06:00:00.001-08:002013-11-30T06:00:50.557-08:00just a quiet morning...It's the Saturday after Thanksgiving....Nov. 30, 2013.<br />
We are in Vermont,<br />
and it is all snowy and wintery and sunny and cold<br />
and perfect.<br />
<br />
I write (o.k. SURF the inter webs) while my beloved sleeps.<br />
<br />
In a while, we will exercise,<br />
pack up,<br />
go to lunch,<br />
drive home.<br />
<br />
at this point, I really ought to be further along in my preparations for Sunday, First Sunday in Advent.<br />
But I am not. <br />
I believe I am overthinking my sermon,<br />
wanting to be succinct, and smart, and brilliant, and educated and erudite<br />
in the words<br />
that are waiting to be written, expressed...<br />
I want to be more honed, more clever,<br />
more...probably more of what I think I SHOULD be, rather than who I am.<br />
<br />
Help me rest in that thought God...<br />
I do want to be more faithful in my preparation,<br />
more in tune with your Spirit.<br />
Not what I think I should be, or what I think others want,<br />
but rather,<br />
what you want....the Word that best reflects your Message to this particular time and place and people that I am serving on behalf of you these days. <br />
<br />
Help me,<br />
let go of my insecurities (yes, I have those, and I need to admit this)<br />
Help me,<br />
be completely enveloped<br />
in your Spirit...<br />
Help me just simply be,<br />
and to trust in You,<br />
and to trust in me,<br />
and to trust this process<br />
of listening and writing and meditating.<br />
<br />
Take me over with your Love, dear God.<br />
I am working on being wide open to You.<br />
<br />
Amen.revkjarlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03516266924883899536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244481070298009301.post-7445514897512182102013-11-15T15:08:00.003-08:002013-11-15T15:08:59.896-08:00Ms. or Mrs.?This fall, I had the opportunity to substitute teach.<br />
For six weeks I wandered into middle school science and social studies classrooms,<br />
kindergarten wonderlands,<br />
first grade intensity,<br />
and everything in between.<br />
<br />
Always, in each new assignment, I was asked,<br />
are you Ms. Miller, or Mrs. Miller.<br />
<br />
At first, I just said, it doesn't matter. <br />
<br />
But it does, I know.<br />
<br />
When I was teaching in the late 80's and 90's, I was emphatically MS. Miller.<br />
Not Miss Miller. Not Mrs. Miller.<br />
I didn't feel like I should have to have my marital status be a part of how my students and their parents perceived me. Men only have one choice--Mr. -------. I know that most people at that time and place thought that I ought to just give in to the sexist paradigm. They all knew that Ms. was just a feminist who was single. <br />
<br />
Apparently, here, in another part of the country, and a new millennium, the Miss has been dropped. And it wasn't clear whether Ms. was just non-sexist, but I felt like when I was asked, that Ms. meant single and Mrs. mean married. OR--actually, Mrs. meant you were married, but Ms. was more neutral. <br />
<br />
Here is the thing--this fall, I started off as being Ms. You know, the whole neutral, non-sexist word.<br />
<br />
But then, the children, especially the little ones, would call me Mrs., and hey, it wasn't worth correcting a six year old, especially as a temporary teacher for the day. And--I found I liked being Mrs. Miller! I *am* married, for goodness sake. To a wonderful woman. <br />
<br />
So, for a few weeks, I just went with being Mrs. Miller. The first time in my 50 years of life, and I liked the public addition to my identity. <br />
<br />
Here is another thing--I now am at the age I don't mind it if I am called "Miss". This happens ONLY at Starbucks, so I think it must be a customer service rule--call all the women "Miss" unless obviously she looks older than your mother. Oh my goodness, I would have been ruffled to pieces if this happened to me when I was 33.<br />
<br />
It's funny, though, how the title in front of our names means something. Or not. For example, I am proud that I am Rev. Karla, or Pastor Karla. I worked HARD for that! Those who have earned a post-graduate degree, whether Ph.D. or D. Min or Ed.D. have earned that DR. in front of their name.<br />
<br />
When I was a college chaplain, my name was always listed formally as The Reverend Karla Miller. The students started calling me "The Rev." I must admit, I loved that, because it was a term of endearment. <br />
<br />
But in congregational polity, we hold close to the priesthood of all believers, and since I don't call my parishioners Ms. Polly, or Mr. Mark, why should they call me Pastor Karla? I know this is common in many Christian traditions. I know that in the denomination of my cradle, Pastor is like a first name. You just don't refer to the minister by her first name alone. Or--you don't very often. <br />
<br />
So, on Sunday, during the children's time, my colleague in ministry was introducing me to the children, and asked me what I would like for them to call me. I sort of flustered in the moment, because I hadn't thought about it--in my last parish I was a mix of Rev, Pastor Karla, and Karla to all ages. That just evolved.<br />
<br />
Without thinking, I said, "Karla is great!"<br />
<br />
After musing about this, it was the perfect thing to say.<br />
<br />
I wonder, if part of my thrill of being called Mrs. was in part because it gave me a little sense of identity that fed into my ego. I was a Teacher! A Wife! <br />
<br />
Part of the landscape of the past few months of sabbatical and time off involved a stripping off the outer ways in which I identified with the world--and gained a sense of worthiness from those identities. Not always a good thing to do.<br />
<br />
So I am really grateful for having that time in not being a pastor in a congregation (it can be quite heady, you know, at times....). It gave me pause to consider my calling. Was I continued to be called to parish ministry? Should I start a dog walking business? Get my teaching certificate? <br />
<br />
It also gave me space to be myself, reconnect with my deep self, my knowing self. This wasn't always easy, mind you--I did a couple of temp jobs where I wanted to SHOUT OUT "do you KNOW what I AM?? A freakin' professional that doesn't give a flip about counting ceiling tiles!!!" Humbling, at its best. Its very best.<br />
<br />
And I had to remember, over and over, that the most important part of me is that I am Beloved. And that I am called to be Love, as best I can, in this world. Whether or not I am Ms., Miss, Pastor, or Mrs. <br />
<br />
Whew.<br />
Thanks be to God.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />revkjarlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03516266924883899536noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244481070298009301.post-84769984232043942992013-11-09T08:38:00.000-08:002013-11-09T08:38:00.532-08:00ooossshhhhhhhThat's is kind of how I am feeling right now.<br />
oooooesshhhhhhhh. <br />
Like,<br />
oy!<br />
<br />
I am trying not very hard to not to be focused,<br />
which in regular words is:<br />
I am not focused.<br />
I am not trying.<br />
I am procrastinating.<br />
<br />
why?<br />
<br />
maybe it's my mind emptying itself in a weird way.<br />
<br />
I have exhausted all the possibilities of clicks to check on facebook,<br />
shoe sites, groupons, twitters, email, facebook, email, ummm...<br />
landing finally to write here to get some words out of my body,<br />
some thoughts, scattered though they may be, pushed out of my mind,<br />
sifting through the raffles of my mind,<br />
neurons spinning, misfiring, jumping....<br />
<br />
moving towards the illusive quiet, still space...<br />
a point of tiny light,<br />
a breath,<br />
a prayer,<br />
<br />
help me God.<br />
help me to listen your Spirit,<br />
your heartbeat,<br />
in spite of me,<br />
tune me to your Word, and your Silence in between.<br />
<br />
Amen.<br />
<br />revkjarlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03516266924883899536noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244481070298009301.post-75717726485319158842013-09-17T06:42:00.000-07:002013-09-17T06:44:29.975-07:00The Way<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx3MntPfuZ_jvb9EbXYCv77V4rkeL9VOZ09NcfRZStVgS5MP1ZuZaztjI0gDlumS5EqhBP9BtGRNhJPMOqRuuH78ETE4DPGWu6ZDzHlltY_bWpPNlH8r9tZbwJdNNDNPIGaEePGEKvtHYu/s1600/living+bilbe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx3MntPfuZ_jvb9EbXYCv77V4rkeL9VOZ09NcfRZStVgS5MP1ZuZaztjI0gDlumS5EqhBP9BtGRNhJPMOqRuuH78ETE4DPGWu6ZDzHlltY_bWpPNlH8r9tZbwJdNNDNPIGaEePGEKvtHYu/s320/living+bilbe.jpg" width="207" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">it was the Living Bible. illustrated. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">it was paperback, and had tons of photos. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">a paraphrase,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">it was a smooth read.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">probably the 70's version of The Message.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">mine was tattered, and I underlined and highlighted passages, because I read it A. Lot.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I went to bible studies and luther league, and we would furiously underline the words we were learning about...I would add exclamation points (!!!!!) and smiley faces, and little prayers like "help me remember this".</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">this was my favorite passage, from Ephesians 3:</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="text Eph-3-17" id="en-TLB-26296"><sup class="versenum" style="font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;">17 </sup>And I pray that Christ will be more and more at home in your hearts, living within you as you trust in him. May your roots go down deep into the soil of God’s marvelous love; </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="text Eph-3-18-Eph-3-19" id="en-TLB-26297"><sup class="versenum" style="font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;">18-19 </sup>and may you be able to feel and understand, as all God’s children should, how long, how wide, how deep, and how high his love really is; and to experience this love for yourselves, though it is so great that you will never see the end of it or fully know or understand it. And so at last you will be filled up with God himself.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="text Eph-3-18-Eph-3-19" id="en-TLB-26297"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">it's still a favorite passage, albeit I now change the language to be gender neutral.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
we went to bible camp every summer. and we took our bibles. this was when I was in 6-7-8 grade. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">high school kids were our counselors, and it was a good time. lots of laughing, pranking, worship with guitars and guest pastors, stuff like that. the big thing was the bonfire on the last night, where we would sit around and sing songs like "Pass It On" and a very slow rendition of "Kum Ba Yah". </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
the last day, </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">we would get people to sign our bibles. (kind of like signing yearbooks, as I think about it now.)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">except we would share bible verses in our notes,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">or prayers, </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">or write things like "God's light shines through you"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">and those blessings</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">were as holy writ</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">as the paraphrase of Ephesians 3:17, </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">because</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">those friend blessings</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">carried me through </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">the ups and downs and craziness</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">of adolescence...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
I have carried that bible with me from college to my first job to my second job to seminary to my first parish, second call, third call...fourth call....for 39 years.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
this summer, </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I had a fit of downsizing</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">my library....</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">and I gave that bible away, in a moment of non-attachment. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">to the object.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
but I am still attached by my heart,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">to the blessings and prayers,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">smiley faces and exclamation points,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">markers of the faith of my youth,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">tiny seedlings with fragile roots</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">that grew deep</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">deep</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">deep down</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">into the soil of God's love. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">and I still really don't understand it</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">and it's true you can't really fully know it, </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">but still,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">you have moments</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">of being filled up with God...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">rooted firmly,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">ready to fly. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<br />revkjarlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03516266924883899536noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244481070298009301.post-41953836069662533532013-09-10T09:05:00.002-07:002013-09-10T09:05:23.604-07:00Regathering. for the past six years, except for this one, <div>
the weekend after labor day</div>
<div>
has been incredibly, wackily crazy. </div>
<div>
regathering WEEKEND. </div>
<div>
it would begin with a community ice cream social on friday evening, on the front corner of the lawn of the church. </div>
<div>
sort of a community outreach, welcoming back to school in the community, the pre-school housed in our church, the dance school, our people back from summer time..</div>
<div>
just a fun thing </div>
<div>
that was a lot of work, </div>
<div>
but fun. </div>
<div>
after cleaning up late on Friday night, </div>
<div>
I would be back early Saturday morning</div>
<div>
for teacher orientation for Sunday School, </div>
<div>
another regathering</div>
<div>
of coffee and juice and cheese grits and fruit and laughter and catching up, </div>
<div>
oh, </div>
<div>
yes,</div>
<div>
and looking over the curriculum for the year. </div>
<div>
after getting through with that event, </div>
<div>
then home</div>
<div>
to think about worship the next day, </div>
<div>
write my sermon if I was preaching, </div>
<div>
making sure everything ready to welcome children to Sunday School, </div>
<div>
write prayers and make lists for announcements,</div>
<div>
and the like.</div>
<div>
Sunday would be a big day, </div>
<div>
Regathering, </div>
<div>
singing "Gather Us In",</div>
<div>
and blessing backpacks and bibles and teachers and students, </div>
<div>
and </div>
<div>
scooping left over ice cream during coffee hour...</div>
<div>
by Sunday afternoon, </div>
<div>
I couldn't be more tired, and full, and feeling like we were off to the races for another year. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
this year was different, IS different. </div>
<div>
I am serving a church, just on Sundays, in a very limited capacity. </div>
<div>
not a lot of planning. I am not the pastor. </div>
<div>
I love this church, and what I am doing. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
but I am just saying this new year, this new school year</div>
<div>
is rolling along without my gifts and skills and what I love doing, what I know doing. I missed getting do the "regathering" weekend, but this was my choice. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
it's o.k.</div>
<div>
it's quiet. </div>
<div>
I get to be home more with my family. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
it's just a different kind of new. </div>
<div>
I am fearful and hopeful of what kind of new this whole year will bring. </div>
<div>
(Oh, and I just had a big birthday, which has always been a part of my inner regathering in my heart in the fall--oh, and yes my birthday is also the anniversary day of my ordination. 13 years, thank you!)</div>
<div>
Will my vocational path follow a different trail than full-time congregational ministry?</div>
<div>
I have applied for some meaningful work that would use a whole lot of what I bring to the table, what I love to do, what I enjoy....</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I just don't know. </div>
<div>
And I suppose that is part of a new year, a fresh regathering of any kind--</div>
<div>
Any thing can happen. </div>
<div>
Thank goodness my backpack is blessed. </div>
<div>
Amen. </div>
revkjarlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03516266924883899536noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244481070298009301.post-37677143463300775552013-09-09T10:09:00.002-07:002013-09-09T10:09:33.674-07:00on the hunt....so,<br />
I am at the point where I need to be doing something. <br />
<br />
I temped in an office for two weeks. As much as I want to rant and rave about<br />
the experience, I won't. Let's just say, it doesn't look like temping is the avenue<br />
right now for me. <br />
<br />
there is the luxury of time for me to settle in and think outside of the box. for goodness' sake...<br />
I have earned it. <br />
<br />
I've spent some time on Craig's List, exploring job opportunities. There are jobs for professional bead stringers (who knew), grill cooks, printers, and pretty much a whole lotta stuff. Today I applied to be a part-time dog walker. <br />
<br />
I. LOVE. DOGS.<br />
<br />
<br />
I hope they take my application seriously, because I am. Think of it. Exercise, furry beings that wag their tails when they see you, the pleasure of companionship beyond my own little pack. <br />
<br />
There are people I know that are getting beat up in the church. Not physically, but I am sure it is affecting them physically. Some of the meanies are known church folk, some are anonymous, and beyond. I know the church is a human place. And people behave badly. I've experienced that, in very, very small doses. I am lucky. <br />
<br />
I do want to serve a congregation again, I do want to be in ministry, and I do want to listen closely to the Spirit that Leads.<br />
<br />
My mother is part of a lovely congregation in the north-mid-west. I love them. She loves them. It's a special happy place. They don't have enough money to pay a minister full time. But they do have a building, at least, that is small and not desperately in need of repair, like a lot of buildings here in New England. They are blessed enough to have an amazing minister, in spite of. They are kind, good, people. I dream of serving in a place like this--fewer politics, ordinary people cleaning up food banks on service Sunday, bible studies on Friday mornings, and where children are celebrated. <br />
<br />
But until that call comes,<br />
I really, really, really would love walking dogs.<br />
<br />
Woof.<br />
<br />
<br />revkjarlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03516266924883899536noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244481070298009301.post-11010717755462532392013-09-04T11:41:00.003-07:002013-09-04T11:43:05.509-07:00Turnings...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3omtWXpYOj_Q2ycXePYasMxWa2LG1OKAEHdTtTbV5IWJyMcroblW0lIov_A5dLOwdYyAUEg6gj4hExwikY42CMxIkCpZBDVNkdEMsPx4-UtdlZSS_076E0jVoFvrfzJQzTTbRHJbTkR9e/s1600/IMG_0472.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3omtWXpYOj_Q2ycXePYasMxWa2LG1OKAEHdTtTbV5IWJyMcroblW0lIov_A5dLOwdYyAUEg6gj4hExwikY42CMxIkCpZBDVNkdEMsPx4-UtdlZSS_076E0jVoFvrfzJQzTTbRHJbTkR9e/s320/IMG_0472.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
it's just been such<br />
basket of turns these days...<br />
<br />
really, since spring...<br />
and the turnings,<br />
the transitions...<br />
professionally,<br />
personally...<br />
<br />
have been enough<br />
to feel like at times<br />
I've been cosmically<br />
thrown under the bus,<br />
at times,<br />
feeling<br />
like it's all o.k., and I've got peace like a river in my soul....<br />
<br />
but at other times,<br />
sucking my breath in<br />
and wanting to throw dishes at the wall<br />
and break things...<br />
<br />
and then the blissful denial times of,<br />
curling up into a ball<br />
and getting lost<br />
in Candy Crush.<br />
(yes, I have succumbed to that this summer.)<br />
<br />
my eyes have been hot with tears of rage,<br />
softly filled with sadness and grief,<br />
overflowing with laughter and love.<br />
<br />
and trying to find You in all this<br />
has been virtually impossible.<br />
each turning brings a glimpse,<br />
and then abruptly disappearing<br />
around the next unexpected turn.<br />
<br />
Humbled. Crushed. <br />
Hope-sick, searching,<br />
Knowing and unknowing,<br />
I wait for You.<br />
<br />
it's really all I know what to do.<br />
Amen.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
revkjarlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03516266924883899536noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244481070298009301.post-2606501318679161232013-07-19T07:52:00.002-07:002013-07-19T07:52:31.949-07:00Mom's houseit doesn't matter<br />
which house it is.<br />
<br />
the corner house across from the park with the outdoor swimming pool,<br />
two blocks from Rickard Elementary<br />
or<br />
three blocks to Jr. High (and lunches of french fries at Service Drug)<br />
or<br />
a block and half to High School (to which we drove, back and forth, because, duh, who WALKS to school in High School?)<br />
<br />
or this garden-town home<br />
on the opposite side of the state...<br />
not a STEP to worry about in this wide open,<br />
lovely open-concep two bedroom, two bath, complete with a garage the size of the first floor of my own house in Boston....<br />
HEATED garage, people.<br />
<br />
it's Mom's house. (and my step-dad's, yes, of course....)<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVIhgCKOQsNcCRI_fPLiaHZZnSnm2FW2atqhPd069Uf4f0_Bgeg_333RTrKeAo19l2cVhqXmxf_jifucIWlPT61g80ppWiD1B161wRRvanylc5O_3PuPfWQARDnf93cT7k4kQCuv-W8-0K/s1600/flowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVIhgCKOQsNcCRI_fPLiaHZZnSnm2FW2atqhPd069Uf4f0_Bgeg_333RTrKeAo19l2cVhqXmxf_jifucIWlPT61g80ppWiD1B161wRRvanylc5O_3PuPfWQARDnf93cT7k4kQCuv-W8-0K/s320/flowers.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>always flowers at mom's house</i></div>
<br />
<br />
and the first day I visit,<br />
it's always the same.<br />
I check things out.<br />
I look for the familiar library desk...filled with notes.<br />
Her bedroom furniture, brand new and beautiful<br />
(can I have this when you go, Mom?)<br />
still holds her essence.<br />
I snoop in her jewelry to look for the cross I gave her the first time I went to Israel,<br />
and I look for her favorite photo of my twin and I<br />
(one squalling bald baby, and one terrified moppy haired baby staring at her crying sister)<br />
and I seek the picture of my grandfather that my uncle captured,<br />
many years ago,<br />
Grandpa Lee is looking over the lake, not focused on the camera, but probably thinking about fishing.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>my twin and me</i></div>
<br />
<br />
Oh, there are so many more photos...<br />
of my nephews, and me and my sisters' baby pictures hung in a cluster in her bedroom,<br />
and the antique photos<br />
of female ancestors<br />
that hung in the basement near my room<br />
that creeped me out<br />
when I would come home late in high school,<br />
because I SWORE their eyes followed me...<br />
only to continue to haunt me<br />
in the guest bedroom where I sleep, today<br />
watching over me like serious angels.<br />
Do they know my heart?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivwRXV6PgpcTaT2HQ93Di1toSU-TMhv_D0uw9Iy5lzcwOGINoGq3bx0xSMCRxf1Z9WWv0KDN31Yq74ZkJRJfvnb7ypEam8rfoMHYDvNlV4_1Vus0qpdf2lxaCwPrb-C5x9V-WntFnSmqT8/s1600/ancestors.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivwRXV6PgpcTaT2HQ93Di1toSU-TMhv_D0uw9Iy5lzcwOGINoGq3bx0xSMCRxf1Z9WWv0KDN31Yq74ZkJRJfvnb7ypEam8rfoMHYDvNlV4_1Vus0qpdf2lxaCwPrb-C5x9V-WntFnSmqT8/s320/ancestors.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>(kinda scary, right?)</i></div>
<br />
<br />
it's Mom's house.<br />
<br />
I make sure she has all the familiar stuff in the fridge, and cupboards<br />
yogurt, cheese,<br />
eggs,<br />
lots of condiments (some probably expired, but you just don't throw this stuff away, you know?)<br />
bread, Life cereal, and a LOT of tupperware (how did this happen? I tossed out so much three summers ago when I helped her and my step-dad move. I guess having tupperware is security, or what makes a kitchen functional. )<br />
<br />
The little things that have been gifted to her over the years--<br />
the blue and white pottery my sister in california gave her,<br />
the little plaques and decorative pictures,<br />
whether they match or not, they are around,<br />
because that is how a mother rolls, right?<br />
what is more precious than a watercolor painted by a 7th grader?<br />
or a letter from a preschool grandson?<br />
<br />
it's Mom's house.<br />
and so, so much more.<br />
<br />revkjarlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03516266924883899536noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244481070298009301.post-49013706231605978632013-07-17T18:14:00.002-07:002013-07-17T18:14:55.667-07:00vast and rollingI am in the window seat of the small plane<br />
that is in descent<br />
to the eastern part of the state<br />
I still call home.<br />
As I peer through the<br />
smudgy clouded scratched glass,<br />
I marvel<br />
at how my body<br />
tunes in<br />
with the<br />
vastness<br />
of this place.<br />
<br />
so much room<br />
to breathe.<br />
so much land<br />
measured in quartered fields<br />
and tiny rivers<br />
forming oxbows<br />
and straight roads<br />
that roll out forever...<br />
a patchwork from the sky.<br />
<br />
I know this rolling blue sky.<br />
I know this green grass and yellow-bright fields of canola<br />
resting next to green fields of potatoes or sugar beets or<br />
some kind of grain, it doesn't matter.<br />
I know this wind, hot and dryly humid.<br />
<br />
But the best thing is,<br />
this vast and rolling place<br />
knows me.<br />
We connect....<br />
and<br />
my ancient childhood<br />
is renewed in good and solid ways.<br />
Home.revkjarlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03516266924883899536noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244481070298009301.post-60183932280670255412013-07-09T16:53:00.001-07:002013-07-09T16:53:38.819-07:00Carnival! Week 2At RevGalBlogPals, Teri asks us:<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><b><span style="color: purple;">What's the most surprising connection you've made through RevGalBlogPals? Or the most surprising or helpful thing you've learned/experienced through this galship of friends?</span></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><b><span style="color: purple;"><br /></span></b></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">I didn't get around to playing last week, but, so this post is a mishmash of...what galship is to me, and the surprise of RGBP. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">I was probably about a month or so into a new call. My love and I had moved from North Carolina to Boston. I left a position in a newish church start, which I loved...I LOVED...the people, my colleague, everything...to travel to the awesome state of Massachusetts, which was liberal, gay-friendly, and completely foreign to both of us. My beloved fell right into her new position in higher ed, at the place most perfect for her. An amazing fit. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">For me, I was lost. So lost. After the first couple of months, I started doing temporary work (which was a total joke, because I didn't even know how to run a copy machine) and I bluffed my way through MIT, FAS-Harvard, Radcliffe, and finally landing at Harvard Divinity School, being a temporary faculty assistant. In December of 2006, I landed my first church pastoral interview, at the only opening in my association, for an associate position. By February, I was offered the position, on the same day I was offered a position in the Women's Studies in Religion at HDS, to be the coordinator of the program. In spite of being enticed to take the position at HDS (which in hindsight....well, o.k. maybe, maybe not) I answered the pastoral call. At heart, I am a pastor. I wasn't exactly sure about the associate part, because I really wanted to be a lead pastor. But pastor vs. coordinator, it seemed clear. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">And yes, it was the right path. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">But I was lonely. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">I had virtually no colleagues in ministry. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">But I had a blog. Earthensoul. It was mostly about connections between being a potter and pastor, but so much more. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Somehow, I stumbled upon RevGals. Grace of God, really, because I don't remember how I found this sisterhood. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">I think I might have played a Friday Five, first. I remember it was something about "what are you having for lunch" and "what are you wearing to work if you do on Friday......" And then, people responded to my post. My spinach salad with gorgonzola and pears was a hit. I was so touched that people took time to read my post, let alone comment. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">So, I asked to be a member. And was accepted! </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">I had people. I had sisters. I had galship, I had colleagues. Instantly. Let me tell you, being a new pastor in Boston isn't the easiest, after only serving in southern churches. Everything is different. My colleague's wife was supportive, but she was technically my boss's wife. The other women I knew were a crusty ready to retire kind of grumpy clergy association colleague, and a practicing nun in the same association. I was starved. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">So, reading Songbird, and Terrapin Station, Wills Mama, and St. Casserole, and Vicar and Authentic Voice and so many other blogs was a balm to my desert soul. I found community, I found church, a galship....</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">I missed BE1. I went to BE2 with fear and trepidation. It was in Arizona. But I knew that Songbird, Terrapin, St. Casserole, Vicar, and Authentic Voice would be there. They were my virtual friends, and I was hopeful they would be my life friends. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">And that is the surprise. That the interwebs don't lie, when you are faithfully trying to be authentically you. I was so welcomed. I was known. I was beloved by sisters in faith, in spite of non-physical introductions. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">I am sad that there are some that feel there are cliques in RGBP, or feel dismissed because they are older....but my experience as an almost 50 something lesbian clergy woman has never been negative. I have ALWAYS had supportive women colleagues....but I have had to search for them and trust. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">With RGBPs, I have tried to be as openly welcoming as I was welcomed. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">And I am grateful. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">The most amazing surprise? </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Two of the RGBP wanted, TRUSTED me to their pastor for their wedding. Crazy. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Of course we planned it together, but they trusted me with the liturgy to make their public vows of commitment (in spite of one bride Having A Very Famous Cousin Who Could Have Totally Been The Officiant). </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">And I am blessed with their courage. So, so, so many obstacles. So, so, so many ways they came out to their congregations. Their risks blow out my mind. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Since BE2, I have gone on others. ON CRUISES, people. CRUISES. Where you can eat whenever you need, your bed is made, chocolates on the pillows....and beautiful friends. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">I can't go this year. OH! I am bereft. But I am in transition, and if someone drops out at last minute, and I am in a new congo, I am first on the waiting list. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">But it doesn't matter. Because GalShip thrives, whether on a cruise, in AZ, in the blogsphere, or facebook....</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">I know you are there. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Written, with so much love in my heart. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"> </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>revkjarlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03516266924883899536noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244481070298009301.post-25065037501653935922013-06-15T14:23:00.002-07:002013-06-15T14:23:32.131-07:00the end of an era....<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizvioaLLQEgq9xZFS9oLAqV387y65ML10IPP9J_GmMzzParNsWOBEUPPqH4hkYjz3dXGphgVJAdfq8RqLTNkMtX8bLqDI2v1mkEHaMki-zrioGPgf7OwXbWtie9RGztwaF3Lbe4ObYERBB/s1600/IMG_0019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizvioaLLQEgq9xZFS9oLAqV387y65ML10IPP9J_GmMzzParNsWOBEUPPqH4hkYjz3dXGphgVJAdfq8RqLTNkMtX8bLqDI2v1mkEHaMki-zrioGPgf7OwXbWtie9RGztwaF3Lbe4ObYERBB/s320/IMG_0019.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Callie, 16 plus years, Jewelry Queen</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEPpgnOAiPUeAxn1txIYrCay0GbYZdKPlZSMwXXKNfAqbPtiuG08kQ9-ZXje2Edu8jxaF0iS0F0E5G1HPOX_YX2hQ9hGJKIpPI-FYTVRpCiG5Uq8bGaoirp-CdC4ZaKz4XNRFYb5V9WC4v/s1600/IMG_0455.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEPpgnOAiPUeAxn1txIYrCay0GbYZdKPlZSMwXXKNfAqbPtiuG08kQ9-ZXje2Edu8jxaF0iS0F0E5G1HPOX_YX2hQ9hGJKIpPI-FYTVRpCiG5Uq8bGaoirp-CdC4ZaKz4XNRFYb5V9WC4v/s320/IMG_0455.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daisy, 15 1/2 years, Drama Dog<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So, what a sad day at our house....<div>
We had made an appointment with our vet to have her come and humanely euthanize Callie cat, as she was experiencing neurological stuff, plus doing circles all the time, and basically not eating. She had shrunk to less than 5 pounds, and wore a perpetual knitted brow as if in pain. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Daisy dog, although still eating and doing all those things, was also in decline, and the past few days more so than ever, culminating in last night and this morning, just wandering and staring into the distance, not settling down and whining. A lot. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Callie went quickly, and died in Beloved's arms. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Then we exchanged looks. Talked to the vet. She looked at Daisy, and said "I agree." </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So I held Daisy in my arms, and let her go. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
These two were quite the divas in our household. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Callie, the last Kentucky cat. Ferocious hunter. Brought home the Easter Bunny two years in a row, dead. She was incredibly curious, and we had to make sure we knew where she was before any workpersons left our house who had an open van out front of the house. She loved to play in the jewelry box. She gave one last pop on the head to our youngest cat, Sophie, this morning, whom she felt she needed to discipline. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And Daisy was my baby. I got her my first year in seminary, and I would have NEVER made it through Hebrew with out her, and Yeong Mee, the tutor. She loved peanut butter, hated being left alone. Right from the start, she snuggled up to me in bed. Other people loved her too, and often my friends would "borrow" her for the day. Always serious, she was incredibly easy to tease. Up to the last day, in fact. She was just all that. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
She went home with me on breaks--to North Dakota and Florida. She was welcomed along with me to my first call in North Carolina. She hated the snow if it got caked up in her paw pads. She had a best buddy, Tikky, in seminary, who later came to live with us when Yeong Mee moved back to Korea. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
She was smart. Silly. Earnest. Dear. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
What a great friend you were, dear Daisy Dog. </div>
<div>
Thank you for the gift of your life, and for sharing the journey with me. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /><br /></div>
revkjarlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03516266924883899536noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244481070298009301.post-16961381069601708992013-05-24T07:08:00.002-07:002013-05-24T07:08:17.623-07:00Friday Five: DOG OR CATS?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><i>Over at REVGALS, Jan writes:</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">In my experience in the United States, people are either "Dog People" or "Cat People." As the graph above illustrates, not everyone is limited to those types of animals. So I am wondering about pets and experiences with them.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">1. Are you a DOG or a CAT person? Or OTHER?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><i>I love them all. </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">2. Who were the pets of your childhood and what were they like?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><i>I had a dog named Benji who was a border collie. We got him when I was in sixth grade, and he lived until after I graduated from college. </i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><i><br /></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">3. What pets do you have now?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><i>The current tally in the household is 3 dogs, 7 cats. One of our cats died a couple of weeks ago. However, we have had as many as 5 dogs and 9 cats. It's quite the zoo. </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">4. Have you ever had any unusual pets in your household or visit your home?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><i>We have a lot of fosters that pass through our doors. </i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><i><br /></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">5. What have you learned from your pets? Give one recent example, if possible.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><i>Resilience. Animals are so amazingly resilient. </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">BONUS: Pictures or anything else related to animals you love.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><i>Well, you asked for this:</i></span><br />
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Cooper and Fenway, two of our three dogs</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOJuACbFi4eRTAWueXXD4SrkulCtQOvkDv_BlVTzZ5h5EqD063LoCGlQUGx4WGL71b8jF2gMAfrklDRfR0_g-d2vuEfs7Jexyk4uGXfbcKStmRGQDhcOMsYhm_lpnCtcNUkfvlDUZqlQG9/s1600/luckybarlycallie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOJuACbFi4eRTAWueXXD4SrkulCtQOvkDv_BlVTzZ5h5EqD063LoCGlQUGx4WGL71b8jF2gMAfrklDRfR0_g-d2vuEfs7Jexyk4uGXfbcKStmRGQDhcOMsYhm_lpnCtcNUkfvlDUZqlQG9/s320/luckybarlycallie.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Feeding Time.</div>
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Venus, best dog ever. She died a few years ago. </div>
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Little Tikky. She died two years ago. She lost an eye to glaucoma, but it didn't slow her down. </div>
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Wherever we go, the animals find us. This was a bunch of baby chickens on the beach in Kauai.</div>
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Sweet, feral Sadie. She died two weeks ago. </div>
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Some of the animals make it onto my pottery!</div>
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Foster mama and her babies. We ended up keeping mama, and her name is Sophie. </div>
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Literally, I picked this dog up on my way to church one Sunday. He was running along the street as happy as he could be. He just had a collar, and an outdated rabies tag. So, I took him to church with me, and he hung out in my office during worship. After worship, we did a little sleuthing work, and found his family. Then, two days later, he got loose again! Silly bird. My neighbor found him. So, I took him back to his house AGAIN. I think they fixed the fence then. ;-)</div>
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Cat painting on the iPad. It's the best app ever...a little mouse runs across the screen, and the cat tried to pounce it. What a lovely painting, by Lucy. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmC661FfLGlR7ot4mElKmkcNSi-zNnXKptkUgJxw_wK5WqFJKfNSN9kdBTl0Q6bgiLG0K44p1FfcklVHP0tpFxp0LMDx8PP1CYYrS0fvA0cymlMk0VfhopBki1gzmKiyFsQiv9wFq83lfR/s1600/IMG_0667.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmC661FfLGlR7ot4mElKmkcNSi-zNnXKptkUgJxw_wK5WqFJKfNSN9kdBTl0Q6bgiLG0K44p1FfcklVHP0tpFxp0LMDx8PP1CYYrS0fvA0cymlMk0VfhopBki1gzmKiyFsQiv9wFq83lfR/s320/IMG_0667.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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Scout, a very brief foster boy. He was a handful. NO manners. But he got a great home. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggZC3ylCQeouyzaLnI_Svq1YIwmfVRRITcuX8IleIr1rBrDFxMQC1XWYHwa1CSJv1WA2vA5yxPlApRBE2Fac5KAHA2Z2-emw6o3io7PmL5PybZxkNCL0mDL4Mi42xbJFDoi7sXhn_FktA3/s1600/IMG_0710.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggZC3ylCQeouyzaLnI_Svq1YIwmfVRRITcuX8IleIr1rBrDFxMQC1XWYHwa1CSJv1WA2vA5yxPlApRBE2Fac5KAHA2Z2-emw6o3io7PmL5PybZxkNCL0mDL4Mi42xbJFDoi7sXhn_FktA3/s320/IMG_0710.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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Titan, a long foster. He was such a goofball. His head was HUGE. Anyway, I loved him so much and we almost kept him, but then he ended up in the lap of luxury, adopted by a lawyer and a doctor. </div>
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Lucky guy, he goes kayaking and swimming all of the time. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUitopmtgSvOnOoJqm-w9vwfuOybjX7m5Q2EmgrInhKAcCJY9Y_tc7rBxkzxboxyKfiD9y7ndYPie-IJXoofxiR3R5-FL3cwqAlu_Y2fdDrKAfqhrRumZXes8kIIH6mAHIefbUjFYZuAX4/s1600/IMG_1041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUitopmtgSvOnOoJqm-w9vwfuOybjX7m5Q2EmgrInhKAcCJY9Y_tc7rBxkzxboxyKfiD9y7ndYPie-IJXoofxiR3R5-FL3cwqAlu_Y2fdDrKAfqhrRumZXes8kIIH6mAHIefbUjFYZuAX4/s320/IMG_1041.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Hennessy. Big smile, huh? One of my unsuccessful fosters. He was such a sweet boy with me, but he bit one of my dogs out of the blue. He then ended up in a bad foster situation (no Alpha in the house) After a couple of bad biting experiences, he had to be put to sleep. There are no bad dogs, just people who don't care for them properly. </div>
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Rest in peace, dear one. </div>
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Daisy. Our oldest dog. She is now 15.5, blind, deaf, and wears a diaper for incontinence. But it doesn't stop her one bit. She prances around,shrieks for treats, and is a ball of spunk. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdkGh4LuroEy8I7IfIA4GTR43wrzEaJpwVLr_oLb8OPylWweby2ByatgNjknXPP2PG4RXhuqnI_2RR3RhnOf-8J10JuN4SsOz478vdyGILlodNfurEwKkFtMGk7qCVGpY43XsjOCA0yCKH/s1600/DSCN0152.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdkGh4LuroEy8I7IfIA4GTR43wrzEaJpwVLr_oLb8OPylWweby2ByatgNjknXPP2PG4RXhuqnI_2RR3RhnOf-8J10JuN4SsOz478vdyGILlodNfurEwKkFtMGk7qCVGpY43XsjOCA0yCKH/s320/DSCN0152.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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This is Charley, our Hawaiian cat. He lives in the condo complex we stay at when we go to the Big Island. He shows up at every sunset in the quad area, because he knows people will feed him. Sometimes he comes up to our condo and visits for awhile. Especially if we have turkey to share. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzz4rwCdBe8bY7CWCb_VIJ4uNi1QUWOEDWlqdPYulbOGFvh8Sffb_LGfo5cuCml7tvWa0vnEWKj9xTx5hahlGWRLPCyVF5-y6H_hyQYXYfP_Ncdp66lcqM2s9huP6EAEO5tPXY0Vt5jUDi/s1600/IMG_1367.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzz4rwCdBe8bY7CWCb_VIJ4uNi1QUWOEDWlqdPYulbOGFvh8Sffb_LGfo5cuCml7tvWa0vnEWKj9xTx5hahlGWRLPCyVF5-y6H_hyQYXYfP_Ncdp66lcqM2s9huP6EAEO5tPXY0Vt5jUDi/s320/IMG_1367.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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This is Callie. She is 16 plus years. She has kitty dementia, and walks in circles alot, meaowing. </div>
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She is our princess, and we love her so, so much. </div>
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There are more photos of the the others, but I have to get going! Thanks for the play, Jan!</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><i><br /></i></span>revkjarlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03516266924883899536noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244481070298009301.post-593513329923722032013-04-30T05:32:00.002-07:002013-04-30T05:32:23.821-07:00writing my way throughSo,<br />
in being gentle with myself,<br />
I can err on the side of being lazy and non-reflective.<br />
Well, maybe lazy, but the non-reflective isn't true. I reflect, I muddle, I persiverate, I lose myself inside my unformed thoughts and forget to be present to my spouse, the moment, in my body...<br />
you get it, right?<br />
<br />
I am a big giant F on the Meyers Briggs (if you buy into that. I know that it has been debunked, kicked to the curb in some academic circles.) The F seems to be pretty accurate for me, because I know that I simply feel, feel, feel before any words come to explain whatever the feeling is. <br />
<br />
And in transition, I am a big giant F. Feelings, no words. <br />
<br />
It seems like a good idea to try to write a little, every day, even if I don't say anything. Because, the feelings make me float. The words, even if they don't make sense, ground me. <br />
<br />
I need the balance.<br />
<br />
---<br />
<br />
Honestly, I no idea in heaven or earth how I am being called. I've been a pastor for the last 13 years, and a pretty good one. I put my heart and soul into ministry, internally it feels right and good; and the external feedback is overwhelmingly positive. <br />
<br />
However...finding a call here has been confusing, to say the least. It's sort of like a Goldilocks thing--I am too experienced, not enough experience, too old, too young, too gay, too creative...I don't know. <br />
Enough about that--a rabbit hole I don't need to follow.<br />
<br />
----<br />
I need the balance.<br />
Help me find Balance. and Grace.<br />
Amen.<br />
<br />
<br />revkjarlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03516266924883899536noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244481070298009301.post-22432837099045408202013-04-29T08:02:00.000-07:002013-04-29T08:02:03.088-07:00Losing the LoveSo,<br />
I think I can process a little of my transition here, now, as I can tell my own story. <br />
<br />
My congregation has been in transition the past two years--our SP resigned then. In the scrambling of embracing the news, many people said, "Can't Karla just be our pastor?". As flattering and affirming as that was, I felt that it was important for me to support having an interim come in, as the SP had been with the congregation for 17 years. I believe in intentional transition....although, in congregational polity, the congregation COULD do whatever it wanted. Several congregations in my area have simply made the AP the SP, without the process, and the transitions have been fine. However, for me, personally, I just felt that I needed to respect the work and possibility that emerges from interim ministry. Especially the process of building a church profile.<br />
<br />
There are myriad ways in which a search committee can choose to interview, when it is ready, an AP. In some cases, it can use the Connecticut Conference model, which interviews the AP first, without receiving profiles of other candidates. If the AP is not called, then, well, that person has already agreed to resign within six months (or before a new SP is called)--whatever is agreed upon. This makes sense to me--it wouldn't be healthy to have an AP continue in an AP position when that person had been NOT selected to be SP. Talk about possible opportunities for triangulation! undermining!--for ALL involved. <br />
<br />
Another way to proceed is to open the search, and throw in the AP profiles in with all of the others. This is what my congregation's search committee decided to do. I wrestled a long time before I submitted my profile, because I had questions as to whether I could be a pastor and a candidate at the same time. But, at the same time, I felt a call to this congregation. So, with a bit of trepidation, I submitted my profile for consideration. That was the first of October, 2012. <br />
<br />
I learned at the beginning of March, I was one of final three candidates. On Wednesday, in Holy Week, I learned I was not the candidate of choice, and that the candidating weekend for the chosen candidate was the last weekend of April. A month away--and yet the congregation wouldn't be notified until after Easter of the candidate. So, three weeks. <br />
<br />
Immediately, with consult from colleagues, I crafted an exit plan, and wrote a letter of resignation. Once I was a candidate for SP did I ever think I would stay as an AP, because of what I said earlier. I wanted to make a way for the congregation to celebrate the new candidate.<br />
<br />
So...it hasn't been easy, these past three weeks. Some folk have expressed distress at my leaving, some have been surprised that I was NOT the SP candidate of choice, some folk truly bewildered that I would resign after learning that I wasn't the SP candidate. Working out the details of leaving have been a little stressful, and disappointing. I have moving with my own grief and sadness, along with wondering what the heck is next in ministry for me. <br />
<br />
It's been six years with this congregation. I have loved them deeply. We have done really great ministry. I think what I am going to miss the most is the Love we have shared and built. I know I won't lose love, but in a way, there is loss in leaving. So it feels like it.<br />
<br />
And so, I am sad. <br />
I covet your prayers for this time of leaving.<br />
Thank you.<br />
<br />revkjarlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03516266924883899536noreply@blogger.com3