Why do I always get the urge to write between 2-3 AM?

If I try to force something, it rarely works. For papers, I have to discipline myself and set deadlines.

Tonight I read a blog about sexuality and other related issues, and all I could think about while reading it was what I was going to say in response. I sure as heck hope I've got more empathetic listening skills in real conversations (which I think I do). Writing is different, though...if I read something I really get into, I get excited. I just wish I didn't have the urge to write it now, though...it's a little inconvenient, as I'll want to sleep to well past 11 tomorrow.

In other news, I started the M.A. in Christian Ed program, and I am the new children's and youth ministry intern at First Congregational Church of Evanston. I'm excited, scared and happy. I think it'll be great experience, though, and will round out my "practical" experience (since I've worked with every other age group).

In any case...going to try to wait until tomorrow to reply to the blog, unless I just can't sleep (which would be ridiculous).

Last weekend was very painful for many of my friends in my extended Native American community. Last Thursday through Sunday, we held a camp for Native youth called “Tipi Camp” in Dixon, IL. The purpose of the camp was to give Native and non-Native youth a place to share in Native culture and worship. It was also a chance to enjoy the wilderness, sleep in tipis and be in fellowship together. The camp started out well enough with kids piling out of the passenger van and running excitedly into the dining hall. In the first few hours of the camp, however, I noticed that the Native kids were not including the non-Native kids in their conversations and games; they didn’t look like them, talk like them, or act like them. As I thought about ways to approach the situation, I decided to talk with the other counselors that night to see what to do. The following day, I left the camp to return to the Chicago area for a wedding, feeling a bit discouraged and curious as to how the kids would interact while I was gone.

About an hour before I was to return the next day, I received a phone call from the main camp director: one of our camp counselors, Robert, had suddenly died while the group was at a powwow. A million thoughts and feelings rushed through me as I drove into the city to pick up Robert’s wife and drive her to see his body. After we returned from the hospital, we went immediately to the camp so his wife could meet the kids. We had a small prayer and story-telling ceremony around the fire in memory of Robert. As a part of the ceremony, all the kids and adults had to answer the question, “What is my next best step?” After the service was over, I began to notice the way the kids interacted with each other: the non-Native kids were initiating jokes and laughter with the Native kids, who returned the favor and encouraged them to keep talking. Standing by the fire that night with the chill of a recent death, I was amazed at how quickly the kids had bonded. They had realized something bigger than themselves. They had stepped into something larger than their ethnic or cultural categories. It went beyond inclusion. They had reconciled in the face of tragedy.

I am not suggesting that reconciliation comes only through tragedy. Rather, it seemed to me in that moment that it was only through facing something bigger than themselves that they were able to move past the struggle of acceptance and into relationship. Their next best step was towards each other.

As a seminary student, I have heard many professors, students and clergy alike talk of “being inclusive.” The challenge to be “inclusive” seems to fall off the lips of those in favor and those strongly opposed alike. In The United Methodist Church, inclusion has often been the alleged initiator of uncomfortable conversations that force people to think about their notions of love.

To be frank, I find the word inclusive to be lacking. I have a similar problem with the cousin of inclusive, diversity. In my understanding, both inclusion and diversity sound as though they are political maneuvers to be engaged by the powerful despite the powerless. For example, as a woman, I can look at a traditionally male-led annual conference and know that if they talk of “inclusion,” they mean the occasional consideration of having a woman or deacon in their midst. Likewise, I have been in conversations with groups of people who begin to talk of “diversity” only after they discovered that I am, in fact, Native American, even if I am not from the largest tribe or have the darkest skin color.

Not to belabor the point too much, I have found more strength and power in the word reconciliation. Reconciliation moves past political maneuvering and towards the depths of relationship. Reconciliation, rather than being dependent upon the favored majority, implies a change of heart, mind and being.

The “catch” about reconciliation – the qualification with its use – must always be connected to that which is beyond our capabilities. In Christian theology and spirituality, (what I sometimes term “GodSpeak”) the ultimate purpose of reconciliation is to bring humanity to God, and God to humanity. Although there are those who insist being smart enough, clever enough or witty enough will bring one to peace, we must ultimately recognize that it is only by the gracious and merciful love of God that we can be in relationship with each other. Try as we may, those of us on both sides of the LGBTQ issue don’t stand a chance at relationship with each other unless we realize that we cannot love without realizing that we do so because God loved us first. Until we are authentic about who we are as created persons in need of something bigger than ourselves, our efforts at conversation across hot-button issues will merely be the maintenance of civility in the face of anemic love.

Reconciliation will also escape us if we continue to use “Us vs. Them” language. Unfortunately, none of us are excluded from this temptation. The old adage “We tolerate everything but intolerance” comes to mind. Put differently, perhaps a good step is to recognize that persons on both side of the LGBTQ argument are seeking to be faithful. If we believe in the power of the Holy Spirit, we may discover that using argumentative language is only a hindrance to what God is trying to move us both towards.

As finite beings in a world larger than any of us can understand or articulate, we all have fears. Fear cannot be assigned only to one particular group of people, lest those who are oppressed become oppressors themselves. We all have the capacity to move toward reconciliation, but the first step must be toward our Creator.

As the poet John Donne wrote in the well-known classic Meditation XVII, “Every man’s death diminishes me.” As I think about Robert’s brief time with us at Tipi Camp and in the lives of those youth, I recall stories that were told around the fire about his willingness to serve and believe in the power of humility. Although I mourn his physical death as a loss to this world and our Native community, I am also faced with the astonishing reality of my own choices.

If we kill a gift in another human being based on a category to which we have assigned them…if we fail to know the joy and love of another because we have not taken the time to get to know them…if we cause the death of someone’s only hope, simply because of their “difference,” we diminish not only ourselves, but we diminish who God created them to be, and who God created us to be together. We diminish our only hope at reconciliation.

It is naïve to assume that we will never have differences of opinion or conviction, but perhaps there is something for us to consider as we seek to move towards reconciliation together: What is our next best step? What is your next best step?

I realize I haven't updated in a couple months.

It's been a whirlwind summer. I tend to think Chicago summers are charmed: last summer the weather was perfect, I had a seemingly mindless job, I spent the weekends in the city and things went pretty well for the most part. The problem is, I tend to compare experiences all the time; I guess it's just the way I'm wired.

This summer hasn't been bad, but it's different than what I expected. I'm very happy to have graduated and to be in a nice apartment; I really like the physical and mental distance. I didn't expect other things, though - like financial challenges for wanting to do the Christian Ed degree, saying goodbye to friendships (although some were toxic at best) and an urgency about the commissioning process. More on that later, though.

This year, I was the summer coordinator for the summer terms at G-ETS. What that means is that I was the go-to person for students, faculty and staff for information, problem solving, etc. It mostly involved a lot of planning, talking with people and hospitality activities. It was a good experience overall because it was nice to stand back and watch the students in their classes. It was good to be on the outside instead. I would say that is was interesting to sit in on the faculty meetings, but that's a bit of a stretch (although one did involve a 10 minute conversation about "Twittering," funny if for no other reason than it came out of the mouth of one of our most rigid professors).

However, lest I continue on a happy path void of cynicism, I had a very, very hard time with the summer chapel services. The dean of the chapel is a woman I love dearly; she's easygoing, brilliant and witty. She was my TA 2 years ago in my worship class, and ever since, I think I've had a bit of a woman crush on her. However, I was completely blind-sided by her this summer when I saw her inner liturgy bitch come out (and yes, that is exactly what it was).

I was in Florida for a week with my folks before the summer sessions bagan, and when I came back, I wasn't sure what to do for chapel. She came to the rescue (so I thought) and emailed me services that she'd written for every day of summer school. She'd used morning prayer services from several denominational resources (i.e. taken them straight out of books of worship). The problems with this are too many to go into, but here is the Reader's Digest version of what happened:

The students hated chapel. Many stopped coming, and the ones who came were only there because the profs made them go. They complained to me, they complained to my supervisor, and they complained to 3 other departments on campus. Over the course of both terms, we had people walk out of the service, refuse to go in, stage a protest by lying in front of the chapel doors and threaten to hold another service somewhere else.

I talked with her. The students talked with her. My supervisors talked with her, and 2 professors tried. About a week into the services, we all realized that there was nothing we could do. Any changes people tried to make were shot down, and I was told that (and I quote)
"I lived through the 60s and I saw the church try to get 'creative'....we can't let a bunch of amateurs get up there in worship...it'll be a trainwreck."

Yes, you're right...silly me. I was hoping people could use their gifts and talents in worship, and maybe the classes could even use something they've learned to frame the worship. Ridiculous...what was I thinking? The seminary is no place to try to be creative or open to the Spirit.

I spent the entire month angry and bitter about the whole thing. I had to fight the urge to apologize to all the students, even though I had no control over anything. As coordinator, though, I thought they all assumed I was responsible for the services. I had to let it go. In the end, I think the dean of our chapel represents a very powerful audience in the UMC, and if I quit now, I'll never be a part of changing it.

Moral of the story? Never put people on a pedestal.

Aside from Chapel Drama 2009, the summer sessions went by pretty quickly (again, because I wasn't actually in the classes). The whole summer seems to have gone by faster than I ever thought possible.

The commissioning paperwork: the surprise of the summer. I assumed that all my paperwork was due in December, because that's the way it usually is for the conferences here in IL and surrounding area. Not so with the Memphis conference. All my paperwork, including answers to the commissioning questions (par. 324 a-p, Bod 2008 for Methonerds) and 12 DVDs of me teaching is due on August 28th. Also, I have an interview in late September with the District Committee. This is the same committee that gave me hell 3 years ago because I am called to be a deacon and I'm a woman (the nerve, right?). I've decided a few things this time:

1. I was in my first semester then. I'm a graduate now, and I refuse to let them make me feel that bad again.

2. I'll walk in with the confidence of a tiger and beat them at their own game. If they don't choose to approve me for the Board interview in the spring, I'll go to another conference.

I've decided that it really is that easy. It's a decision that's taken me 3 years to come to. Part of me wishes they knew what that interview 3 years ago did to me. If anything, though, I'm going to use it to make me stronger. Or, as one of my friends said so well after his recent interview with the DCOM, "That interview said much more about the system than it did about me."

Sorry to make that long-winded. I've got 16 questions to answer in writing and I need to find somewhere to teach for the DVD component. Originally, I had planned to do this later in the year while studying in the Christian ed program.

On a brighter note, I'm co-leading a youth camp in Dixon, IL in less than 2 weeks. It's called Tipi Camp, and it's for Native youth (or youth who aren't Native but want to learn about Native culture). It'll be a 3 1/2 day camp at the YMCA. I'm going to be a point person and help teach some of the lessons. We're trying to teach about both Native culture and Christianity so that the kids learn early how the two relate. Although I would usually not be the first to volunteer to teach youth (I'm awkward around teenagers) I am really, really excited about this. Our age range, except for a few kids, is age 9-14. For me, that's perfect. There are about 21 signed up, and we have plenty of adults divided up doing different things. Canoeing, campfires, hiking, teaching, sleeping in tipis, going to a powwow - it's going to be a blast!

Actually, I think Tipi Camp has been the best surprise this summer. The only real energy I've had the last couple of weeks has been because of Tipi Camp. Up until then, I've felt awkward still being at the seminary. I keep reading status updates and notes from friends who are in their new churches and loving ministry. Sometimes I feel like I'm never going to get "there," that illusive There that we all strive for. I've felt like all I do is every other job I'm offered, but that I'm not making much of a difference anywhere. With the camp, though, I think
I'm going to feel refreshed.

If I can't work out the Christian Ed program for next year, I'm not sure what will go down. I will either have to get a job or leave the country. The way job searches are going now, it may just be better to run off to Peru for a few months. I may be okay with that.

Other things that don't fit into a category:

1. I need to do more writing. The Upper Room sent me a letter a couple months ago asking me to write for the little Upper Room pamphlet. The only reason they did it is for "diversity" points. I don't care, though - I'll do it. I just need to quit being lazy.

2. I am writing and editing for the Reconciling Ministries Network blog. I'm very happy about this.

3. I've been watching an unhealthy amount of "Arrested Development" on Hulu. It looks like it's this summer's TV find. I usually find TV shows a few or several years after they've ended.

4. I would never have a roommate my school didn't know about because she isn't a G-ETS student, but if I did, I'm sure she would be awesome, very easy to get along with and also an editor-type. ;)

5. I'm going to see U2 in less than 2 months. Yes, I'm already counting down. I've been counting down.

6. I don't recommend buying wax for your eyebrows. I was going to try it tonight and save some money, but it was a mess and it's a little more complicated than you would think. I'm not going to be the weirdo walking around Evanston with wax permanently stuck on my eyebrows because the directions were misleading. I'm going to the salon tomorrow to get pretty eyebrows.

7. My home church just got a new pastor a couple weeks ago, as well as the church I've been attending here, and the Native church in Peoria. Lots of pastors being moved about.

8. I've been sleeping in far too late and I need to get out of the pattern but can't seem to do it. I could be a professional sleeper. I should probably be observed at one of those sleep clinics to see what my problem is. I think I have restless leg syndrome.

9. I think that's it.

G'night, y'all! Sorry for the stream of consciousness entry. You still love me though, right? That's what I thought.

I graduated on Friday. It's hanging around in the crevices of my head somewhere. I don't feel nearly finished. I'm tired, frustrated and still as busy was I was before. It's transition.

I want to do something great. Instead, I write snarky Facebook notes and try to see what I can get away with.

I'm not sure I've proven to myself I'm ready for what I anticipate. Maybe not. Hopefully soon.

I think I'm almost ready to let go. I'm dancing around the edges of the reality.

I talked with one of my best friends today who was also experiencing some grief this time last year when several of her friends graduated from her degree program. They left, but she stayed at the school and is working here full time. She admitted that she mourned losing them so much that it made it more difficult for her to enjoy graduation and warned me about making the same mistake.

I'll try; I really will. It's just odd to be staying here another year. Really, I should be going with the rest of my friends...not that we're all finishing at the same time, but I'm very much to the point of tired of being an intern, a student, a "not yet." So many miles to go, but I want it to be brought into existence now.

Staying here another year makes sense; the Christian Ed degree makes sense. It gives me more time to make connections, learn more and find new skills. However, it's also just strange to be graduating but not leaving.

I am, however, almost ready to let go. One of my friends wrote to me recently something to the effect of "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few." We can't hold on to every wonderful person who walks into our lives and think that we can somehow claim them for our own, make their choices or set their direction. What a mistake it would be to hold on to people so much that we destroy the work God is doing in their lives.

I just have to trust that the friends and colleagues I need will be there when I need them to be. Incredible people will continue to walk into my life, not because of who I am or what I've done, but because God is working in so many ways and always provides. I really do believe that God prepares ways for us. Granted, I'm pretty good at throwing hissy fits and shaking my fist in the air, but it's always been true that I've never wanted for friends to love.

I am thankful for the time I've spent with them. Even as I fight the urge to say goodbye, I will keep reminding myself that they are not mine to claim. Their lives will be for something greater. Their ministries will transform the world: Barb, Donald, Wiley, Jenny, Krystal, Ashley, Kristina.

It's almost graduation time again. I think we've been through this enough to know what it means, but it always hits me hard every time when I see people I love dearly move away. Last time, I was the one who moved away, and I was going to a new community. It was different.

I'm still going to be here next year, but many good friends I love dearly are going back to their home states. Jenny's going to Alabama/Florida, Barb is going to Nebraska, Kristina's going to Kansas, Wiley's going to NC.

I don't even want to think about Barb leaving at all. If I do, I feel like I'm going to get sick or start sobbing.

Today, I'm having a hard time thinking about Donald going back to NC. I only knew him on a surface level my first year, then a little better last year, and this year we've practically been inseparable. I don't intentionally do this necessarily, but every year I seem to have a really close guy friend who brings me joy. Donald was mine this year. He just worked out his arrangements for going home and now I find myself crying knowing that I have to say goodbye.

No, it's not the end of the world, but it sucks. This is always the hard part about maintaining close friendships over a few years.

I am looking forward to graduation, but I can't say it won't be bittersweet. It's an end to something that's been very beautiful.

I'm just about at my wit's end. This has been a difficult past few days, not just for me, but more for my friends. A good friend of mine just lost his grandmother early this morning after having a horrible year. I'm concerned about him. He just needs to be with people who love him and support him. I just wish I could take some of these things away.

That leads me to my next point: I'm tired of people who are genuinely trying to serve God going through hell on earth. Can we give them a break for one month? Or even a week, please? I know that we all suffer and we all go through hard times, but please, God, have mercy and protect your children. Give them rest.

As for me, I'm okay. I'm somehow going to crank out a paper tonight and pack because I'm going home tomorrow afternoon. I almost called my professor on her cell to ask for an extension, but I realize that would just make everything harder.

I am so, SO glad I'm going home for a week. I just need to refocus and prepare myself for the final dash to graduation. I'm thinking quality time with family (including pets) will help.

Oh! Some good news: a friend of mine got accepted into a PhD program today after many months of waiting and praying. Full tuition and everything! I will take this as a sign of good things to come.

Dear God, please bring the warm winds of spring soon. We need them.

I just read a blog entry that a friend/mentor of mine wrote awhile ago about the role of deacons and the decision of the General Conference to allow sacramental authority to deacons in certain circumstances. I think he made reference to me in the beginning of his article in a vague way, although I'm not entirely sure. I guess it doesn't matter.

I was fixated with his arguments, as he is generally more profound and insightful than I seem to be with my own writing, and I couldn't help but read all 24 comments. Reading the variety of responses and feeling the level of emotion in those words leaves me with a very unsettled feeling.

This entry was written by someone I've known and respected for years. His ecclesiology is very strong and well-supported, and ecclesial authority seems to be the most prominent thing that seems to fuel his discussions. What gets me is a remark something to the effect that deacons cannot be called to the diaconate and to the sacraments.

What I want to say, in all of my struggling and kicking and discerning, is that I want to throw my hands up in the air and reject anyone that tells me I'm not called to the sacraments. As I understand ministry, we as Christians receive the Eucharist as a means of God's grace for us that strengthens us and enables us to believe not only in the death of Christ, but the resurrection of Christ as well. I find joy and hope and strength in that. When I hear the words of institution at Communion, I'm filled with something I cannot explain. I hear the words in my heart before they're ever spoken. I know that liturgy and it gives me strength.

I honestly don't know what to do anymore. There is a very real chance that I am called to be a pastor, and I am scared out of my mind because I don't have enough faith that I will be sustained and effective as a pastor, or that I can be used by God to sustain a group of people. I've gone through so many theological changes and crises myself in the last 9 years that the thought that I could lead anybody else sounds like the worst possible outcome for any congregation. I know that I have gifts, but it's beyond my comprehension that God would call me to a ministry that I find so unhealthy and exhausting most of the time.

I think the itinerant system is killing our church. In reading the many comments to this article, the discussion quickly became one of rights and power between deacons and elders. The accusations began to emerge, not surprisingly, that deacons are just trying to get ordained "through the back door" as one person wrote, without "having" to itinerant. What this language says to me is that this elder in particular--I would not say all--seems bitter that he had to go through something that us arrogant deacons do not *have* to go through. So I am expected to subject my future family to an unhealthy lifestyle, leave churches prematurely, work for twice as many hours as I receive support, be at the beck and call of my congregation 24 hours a day, make myself exhausted and keep a shiny exterior at all times because I am called to read words over grape juice and bread once a month? If our sacramental theology really comes down to this, I'm not sure I understand the purpose of the sacraments anymore.

Am I really the only one that feels the weight of this problem? I cannot tell you how many hours I have spent thinking about this and crying over this and wondering why God would call me to a ministry that sounds more oppressive to me most of the time. I know that I am much more than my Myers-Briggs type, but every introvert pastor I have seen has seemed exhausted and unhappy. I've never seen a healthy introverted pastor who made time for herself or himself to regain energy and serve more effectively. They are used by their congregations, ridiculed for not exhibiting the same characteristics as Joe Entertainer Preacher, and then dismissed. I absolutely do not need an accolade 24 hours a day, but what about this joyous itinerant system seems to be in line with the life-giving nature of God?

I do not want to uproot my family every 3-5 years for the sake of a church that is more concerned about running programs and filling pews than loving the marginalized. I do not want to be at the expense of bishops who are more concerned with filling slots than discerning with the Spirit. I do not want to be at the expense of an institution that focuses largely on death and ecclesial politics (i.e. arguments over who "has to" go through what, knowing that we all have different callings) and I do not want to have everything that fuels my creativity and brings me livelihood taken away because I am too busy trying to conform to what somebody deems more "picturesque" of a pastor.

I love to lead worship, but I love to listen to people who need to be heard. I love to preach, but I am blessed to talk to people who have been hurt by the church and know their struggles. I like writing liturgy, but I long to make that liturgy real and worthwhile in the lives of people who would never call themselves Christian.

What am I supposed to do? Do I stand in the middle of the UMC watching these arguments continue? Do I give up entirely and become an elder when I have a clear calling to reach people outside the church? I have no interest in catering to a congregation's every need and staying in one place while there are people who have never known the church as a place of God's love. I'm not suggesting that elders are called to cater to needs constantly, but let's just be honest here - that is what they end up doing. It's unfortunate, but it happens.

I just don't know what to do, and I wish it were that easy for me to place such authority in the United Methodist Church. But I have no faith in institutions. One of the things I keep hearing of people in my 'generation' is that we are so mistrusting of institutions and authority. I wish I could place faith in what God can do through bishops and boards of ordained ministry. I wish I could hear subtle hints of inferiority (such as the ones I heard at my DCOM certification interview) and write them off as 'continued dialogue' about the orders of ministry. The fact is that I cannot place my trust in the UMC, and I cannot pretend that these issues won't effect me.

The sacraments are not a grounds for claiming power and authority, nor is itinerant ministry, but it always seems to come back to this, and even as I try to articulate my thoughts, I jump back and forth in this tension. Maybe it is true that we treat the sacraments as though they are instruments under our control and at our discretion, but I really do believe that it is God who initiates our longings toward means of grace.

What really gets me is when people try to make these issues so clearly defined because of institutional assumptions. We can be honest about the fact that the UMC is a dysfunctional family at times, and even that we are too individualistic in our callings, but I don't understand why we have to view these orders of ministry as a competition of sorts. If I become ordained as a deacon, I am not 'less than' an elder, but I find myself having to work harder to compensate, for being a woman and seeking to be a deacon and being young in a church where youth is lacking. So I find myself trying to compensate and somehow 'prove' my way into membership, which is not something of which I'm proud.

I was given a hard time by the former secretary of my home conference for seeking an M. Div instead of a BGTS degree as a deacon candidate. If we are going to have these discussions about roles and requirements, I want to know why we call our orders 'equal' and yet have different educational requirements. Is it not the role of the deacon to know administration, organization and pastoral care? Why must being compassionate and guiding someone be limited to the local church? Isn't this very limitation the problem in the first place?

Part of me is angry because I know my friend is right in many of his assertions, but I don't know that I can ever accept that ecclesial authority that he seems to so willingly embrace. I don't know why I don't have this trust, but what I do know is that the more I read of these arguments and the more rigid such discussions become in terms of defining the orders by what *they* had to go through, the more I sigh and wonder when we will know true faith and strength in the church that comes from God, who calls us, and not our own experiences flavored with bitterness or power.

Even as I write this, I know that I have my own biases and I speak from my own experiences and understanding of what I have seen in this conversation with elders. I also admit my own biases in what I have seen in pastors I have known, and how that has effected my view of pastoral ministry. I do not suggest that all elders are the same, nor that I can make blanket statements about them. I really do not want this discussion to be about "us" vs. "them," and maybe it is that my friend did not so willingly embrace ecclesial authority. I suspect that it was a process for him, and I guess it's a process for me, too, but I'm having a difficult time because I feel like I'm fighting to use my voice in a system that tells me to shut up if it sounds different.

Okay, not a lot going on. January term starts next week. Sadly, I will not be taking "Guitar Hero" this year. This week, I'll be working at the library, hopefully getting ahead on reading for the J-term class and coordinating for the term. I need things to put in a little newsletter for all the students (hopefully some funny stuff, too). One of my friends wants to start a version of "The Onion" for Garrett students. I think it's brilliant.

Oh! I did throw down Sunday, Epiphany style, at the Native UMC for the first time. The service went well overall, I thought. I had a big nervous fit before I left, though, because I've never preached to Natives, and this church is God's smorgasborg (Natives, non-Natives, Methodists, heterosexuals, homosexuals, former Catholics, new Christians, non-Christians, traditional Natives and 1 Jew). It was kinda fun, although I had to preach with a little kid running around in front of the pulpit and picking up pieces from the nativity scene (also in front of the pulpit). I knew that I lost some attention with him running around, but I didn't feel comfortable enough to tell his mom (who was helping me lead worship) to get him to quiet down, because I didn't want to be perceived badly. On the other hand, it was rude for her to sit there and watch him, knowing that I had to preach over him.

In any case, overall the service went well. I forgot how tiring preaching is. I haven't done it in 8 months, which was weird; I think it's the longest I've gone without preaching.

Soooo...aside from doing random Jan term stuff, putting together a little newsletter and stayin' all up in ur librariez, not a lot else going on. I do want to do an M.A. in Christian Ed, but that isn't a solid plan yet (it's more like a fluid-turning-into-solid plan). We shall see. I do feel better with the thought, though, because even though I'm about to graduate, I don't really have a specific "focus" per se.

Yeah, that's it...and that's all it needs to be, because
when I arrive
I, I bring the fire
Make you come alive
I can take you higher
What is this, forgot?
I must now remind you
Let It Rock
Let It Rock
Let It Rock

Yes, that's right. After being on hiatus for many months, I recently caught up with the Friday Five!

Adriennessence: Friday Five, what does it feel like to be back?

Friday Five: Well, it's pretty nice! I know you and Jenny have both been busy, but it's good to know you missed me.

Adriennessence: Of course we have! Well, let's get down to business. What questions do you have for Jenny this week?

Friday Five:

1. What's your favorite Christmas tradition?

2. Did you ever get your luggage situation straightened out?

3. Which Christmas movie is a must-see every year, and why?

4. Egg nog or boiled custard? Discuss in 15 words or less.

5. Having visited the Holy Land last year, what, from that experience, has brought meaning to you as you consider the Incarnation this year?

And that's all she wrote.

1. I'm not sure where one of our dogs is. It's possible that she got out earlier when I was taking out the laundry and the door crept open. She usually comes back within an hour. I really, really hope she's okay, and that she's sleeping in the 'rents room and I don't know it.

2. I've had a headache for about 8 hours. I took some Advil earlier but I realized about an hour ago that it expired in 2007. Awesome.

3. I have a fake gay boyfriend. He's the best boy I've added to my fake boyfriend list so far!

4. I need to write a sermon for Epiphany for the Native church. I've never preached to the Natives, and I don't want them getting restless (hehe).

5. I made Christmas cookies today with mom and my stepniece, which made me realize that I really want kids of my own within the next few years...actually, a lot of things have made me realize this.

6. I haven't written anything outright ridiculous for Facebook in a few days, although I was sufficiently angry enough with Megabus to write them a lengthy letter about how horrible they are, including my rendition of "You're A Mean One, Megabus" in the spirit of Christmas. I haven't done either yet. Who wants to be angry around Christmas?

7. I went to the cantata at my home church. I walked in 5 minutes late during the early service to sit up front with my gay boyfriend. Everyone saw me come in. I thought it was pretty funny that the seminarian showed up late for church.

8. I finally got my laptop in for repairs, but I don't think the screen can be fixed; it will probably need to be replaced. It may be cheaper to buy another laptop. I am not going to do that. Buying a laptop would hinder my saving the monies. As long as I can use it with a monitor, I'll survive.

9. I asked one of my professors to be my Facebook friend. She accepted. This was a big deal because a) I've only spoken to her twice and b) I have a lot of respect for her and she scares me with her brilliance.

10. I've either spoken with or texted with KB every day this week. I think we're in a good place right now. He still needs to heal, but he's willing to talk with me about it. He wants us to get together, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to before I leave. I'd like to, but I haven't decided if that's the best thing yet.

11. I really want to write a poem to the tune of "O Come, O Come Emmanuel," but I'm not sure if I will, or if I'll have the right words.

12. I'm really thinking about this year's Year-In-Review. I'm not sure how exciting it will be, and looking over last year's, I realized I didn't actually answer half the questions and instead replaced the answers with sarcasm. Me? Would I do that?

13. I've fallen in love with House again. House and Cuddy would be amazing. I'm not sure if it will happen, but I like the possibility.

14. I'm wanting to do something fun in Chi on NYE. Any ideas?

I just realized that soon I'll have to be filling out that "Year in Review" thing that I always fill out in an LJ entry, except that I'm not sure what this year's will look like. Hmm. Did it go by fast for anyone else? I'm feeling a bit less adventurous this year.

Ok, so the crisis is still here (as if it would disappear in 2 days). However, I've realized that when I work on a project that I really care about, my energy and joy take over. I'm thankful for that.

Oh...and, just because it's a landmark...by Tuesday, I WILL BE FINISHED WITH MY LAST FALL SEMESTER OF GRAD SCHOOL!

WOO-HOO!!!!!

Once again, Father Winter, not known for his meekness, has wreaked havoc on autumn by ushering in death for the leaves that once danced along the shores of Lake Michigan. They lie in transition as the grips of winter prepare to sweep them up into another sobering cycle of frost, ice and negative temperatures. The student is silenced at the sudden flurries, both taken aback in wonder and in slight shock as her last fall in seminary draws to a quick close. The flurries dance in the breeze, laughing at her attempts to hold on to any season. God, watching the whole scene from behind a maple tree, shakes with quiet laughter and sends the last single, golden leaf in her view spiraling towards her in frenzy. She feels its light weight graze her coat, smiles, lifts it off her shoulder and says, "I saw that."

Insert amazingly profound, hilarious, witty and meaningful LiveJournal entry here.

I’m finally taking the time to journal about something that’s been bothering me for 2 days. I say “finally” because it’s not a small thing to me. I was reading a letter that my conference secretary sent me about commissioning. When I got the letter, I skimmed it quickly because I was in the middle of writing final papers and I had a lot on my mind.

Yesterday I picked up the letter and realized that the date June 30th was in bold and underlined as the day the district committee needed to know I’m planning on being commissioned in June of 2009. They want a year’s notice. No exceptions. In June, as well as July-mid August, I had no idea about commissioning. I felt like I needed to take a step back…that I need more “experience,” that I don’t want to rush into ordination. My stepdad wasn’t doing well healthwise and I didn’t know what would be expected of me from my family. I was planning on possibly moving back home to help my family.

In mid-August, I started looking at the commissioning questions and realizing how good it would be for me to answer them…and I talked with one of my professors who told me it would be good to go for it. I had wanted to do it to some extent, but I think I was too afraid to actually articulate it for most of the summer. So I got the questions and started thinking about how I would answer them. And I bought my first deacon stole, which is beautiful. I look at it hanging in my room every day when I wake up.

So I found this letter yesterday that means I have to wait another year to be commissioned. Some of my older friends probably have the right to argue that I’m “young” and that I have more time to make up my mind…that flexibility is good, and that an extra year would also be helpful. But they haven’t argued that, because when I realized I had to wait another year, I felt like someone knocked the breath out of me.

I struggle with the United Methodist Church. A lot. But I struggle with it because I love it and I see the potential it has for this broken world. I also see myself within that struggle, and I see myself getting ordained. I also see the confusing ways in which deacons are treated and it makes me hurt. I see that there are so few women in my home conference and I wonder when that will change. Even if I don’t stay in my home conference for the entirety of my ministry, I want to be part of that change. I want to be a part of bringing about a time when women aren’t questioned for leadership, when seeing them in collars isn’t strange, and when their numbers are equal to men in clergy.

I want to be a part of that, and that’s why part of me fell apart when I read that letter again. Part of me wants to kick myself for skimming it. I was busy, yes, but when is that an excuse? How is it justifiable to not sit down and consider a letter from my conference? But for me, that has to be weighed with the ways I’ve been treated in the past, which are not exactly hospitable. I didn’t read the letter carefully, so I am trying to blame myself at some level. I have to wait another year because I was irresponsible.

On the other hand, I wasn’t “ready” in June anyway. And, moreover, if I take the Holy Spirit’s role in my life seriously, how can I be expected to give a year’s notice anyway? Am I really too post-modern for the structure of the church, or am I just losing my mind? I feel the Spirit tell me to do many things…and I also feel the need to do many things that the Spirit is not necessarily condoning. I don’t feel a great need to assign things to God lightly. I don’t throw around that language. I’ve been in this process now for 6 years. I started visiting seminaries my freshman year. But does that pale in comparison to the fact that I missed the June deadline?

I emailed the secretary and told him that I realize I missed the deadline, but that I will be working on my commissioning questions. And I will have a lot more time than I expected. I still can’t help the fact that I’m disappointed. I feel like someone knocked the beath out of me. I worked so hard to get certified my first year, when several of my friends from college were certified their senior year of college. I get certified my first year here, I try to keep up with my conference, I work hard. I read. I do everything that I can do to try to help people when they ask of me. I pray for discernment. But I missed the June deadline, so I have to wait a year?

It is entirely possible I’m making a big deal out of this, but if I am, I think it’s because it’s important to me. I have friends here who take things from the Discipline lightly. I’m not a huge fan of the Discipline myself, but I feel like there are things I need to do to prepare myself. When I misplaced my collar a couple weeks ago, I felt like I was losing part of who I am. I really do feel like I need to be ordained.

So I’ve spent the last 2 days trying to distract myself. Yesterday I cried most of the day until a friend came over to listen and then took me out to dinner to get my mind away from this. I came back, got online and played a game for hours to distract myself. Today I was hoping for more of the same, but we had our annual commissioning service at chapel. The director of field education called me this morning and asked me to read Scripture at the service. I ended up sitting between the president of the seminary and the director.

About 2 minutes into the sermon I realized how stupid it is for me to place so much of who I am into this ministry process. I don’t really have that much faith in the process itself. I think it will make me stronger and show me things I wouldn’t have seen otherwise, but if my faith is in the UMC, I’m not going anywhere. Our bishop in residence talked about living between the “over with” and “not yet.” In some ways I feel like I’m so close to the end of seminary that I’m now living in the “over with.” I know my life will not be the same when I leave. This comfortable shell I live in, in which I live in theology and worship will end. This comfortable shell of questioning will end; I may end up somewhere in which questioning is confused with doubt. It will end and I don’t know what will happen. For me, I guess commissioning is a way of me feeling more “secure” about my life before the “not yet” of a ministry placement. If I’m commissioned, I at least have the approval of the church of my spiritual gifts. I have their blessing and their support. Until then, I feel stuck in this process without any guidance other than the fact that I must let the committee know before June 30th of my “intentions for commissioning and election to probationary membership.”

My intentions? My intentions were to have a nice day not thinking about the deadline I missed. And then I was called to read Scripture and I found myself sitting nicely between two officials of the school, dressed nicely and in my collar, ready to read Scripture about the Israelites complaining against Moses. It doesn’t surprise me at all. If this is any indication of how twisted and delightful God is, I will have to lead in worship and ministry regardless of how I feel. I started sobbing about 20 minutes before the service ended, unable to even sing the words on the screen. It’s only happened to me three times in seminary, and the other two times were each in my first and second year. Now I’m in my last year and I feel like believing that there are no accidents and that God really may be active in ways I can’t imagine…well, it seems like a better idea to me. Maybe it is my second naïveté, but it will be a welcomed change from planning my life around district committee meetings.

The Gospel passage today was the Pharisees asking Jesus by what authority he had the power to speak and act. Jesus could have given them a snide answer. He could have told them flatly by what power he did anything. He could have done any of a number of things. But Jesus, he never does seem quite predictable enough. He leaves them to themselves. He turns the question on them.

What’s true about that for me? I feel like the question that I ask has been turned on me. I ask the UMC by what authority they make decisions. I can shake my fist at them, get frustrated with them when they set deadlines, wonder why I haven’t explored other denominations, even. But even as I see myself only dimly, I know that it isn’t the UMC that frustrates me. It is the fact that I don’t have an answer as clearly as some other people do. The fact that I can’t look someone in the eye and clearly articulate my “vision” for the kingdom of God or how I would define an inclusive ministry.

By what authority do I do anything? I’m grafted into God’s grace. I didn’t choose God. I didn’t choose the ministry. I don’t choose to become a deacon. I don’t choose to be a Christian. I don’t choose where to live. I don’t choose what conference to serve. I don’t choose. God chooses me. God forms me. God loves me. God has every right to refine me. God chooses me.

So it looks like I’ll have another year to discern. I’ve joked with some friends that it’s a year for my “Sin List” to release all my repressions and other such things prohibited in the Book of Discipline. But I hope it will be a year when I realize that I have little to do with it.

Until then…I’ll try to stop whining. I’ll try to stop blaming the “system,” the ambiguous system we all love to groan about. There is water from the rock. God is still faithful. I just wish I didn’t feel so crummy.

9/25/08, 11:48 PM

Things are okay. The summer's nice but going too quickly. I think I wanted my last summer here to last about 9 months, maybe to compensate for the really long winter last year, or long enough for me to pretend I could live here for the rest of my life.

This week I got my car fixed...luckily I borrowed someone's husband who wondered into the library and, by virtue of his maleness, knew how to replace a car battery. Car is running and I got the oil changed and put some gas in it for the first time in two months (after weeping over gas prices) and it's ready to go. Still needs work but I'm taking it in for a second opinion sometime in the next couple of weeks.

Also got a bus ticket to go home the last week of August. My mom's having a hard time doing everything by herself and is exhausted all the time. Nobody else in my stepfamily seems to give a crap about trying to help about around the house, so I'll go take in some country air and do the housekeeping thing for awhile.

Before then, there will hopefully be a birthday party involved at some point. And I'm giving up meat for three weeks starting tomorrow. I'm a little excited about it but I'll miss chicken.

The end.

*yawns*

It's been an unpredictable summer so far. It seems to be flying by, either because I'm already a year ahead of myself or because I know how transient my life will be.

I've been able to do some good things this summer; see Chicago, spend time with folks, do some cool things - I about cried when I got to pat Garrison Keillor on the back a few weekends ago!

And it's been a painful summer, too. My stepdad had another heart attack a couple nights ago and mom took him back to the hospital. When she talked to me, she said she expects him to be in and out of the hospital. She seemed more ready for it than last time, knowing what to expect, how to respond, who to let in to whatever she's going through. She won't let just anyone into that, but there are a few. The pastor at my home church has been there now for over a year, and until recently I didn't know enough about him to have more to say than he's the "new pastor." When I was home I got the chance to sit down and have a good chat with him, and then he became more than the new pastor to me; he became a colleague. And when he found out about my stepdad, he was the first one to visit my parents. He sat with my mom for hours while she thought, waited and prayed. And he sent me text messages with updates when my mom was tired and needed to get some rest.

All of that to say, it's been strange. I've been wrestling with myself a lot, asking if it would be better to stay here or go home. The selfish part of me wants to stay here and keep enjoying the weekends, to keep playing and and soaking up the city because I know I won't be able to do it much longer. The selfish part of me likes having a convenient job and friends nearby. The selfish part of me doesn't want to go back home to help out around the house and offer moral support 24 hours a day. But the part of me that is always with my family says that I'm stupid for staying here...that if anything happens to my stepdad and I wasn't there to see him again...or if my mom needs someone to talk to and I'm not there, I won't be able to forgive myself. The part of me that will always belong to my family can't understand how I can study "being in ministry" and pastoral care while I'm here and they're over 500 miles away, going through this without me with them. Every time I talk to mom I let her know that all she has to do is let me know if I need to be there, and I will be. Every time she tells me to stay and finish things up here because I'm so close to graduating.

And then, in the middle of this, between things I'm helpless about and things I have no way of knowing, there's grace. Just when I expect I can anticipate the next thing, grace shows up like a blow to my head - who was I to think I can only be anxious? A few days ago my favorite radio station called me to tell me I won two tickets to go see Coldplay in Chicago on Tuesday night. A small thing, but huge to me. I love them, and I'm probably going to be euphoric on Tuesday because I think they're really good tickets and they're fantastic live. And yesterday, my adopted church family drove up from Jackson. This is the family who "adopted" me my freshman year at Lambuth. They were my home-away-from-home when I was at Lambuth; I interned at the church where they were members. I lived with them for about 4 months after my junior year. They may be my "adopted" family, but they *are* my family. As soon as they climbed out of the car with their mom, I was at home. I haven't seen them in over a year, but being with them again is like everything in the world being set to order again. It doesn't matter that we're older now; we're the same with each other. And I love it.

This is the first summer I'll be spending in the Chicago area, and I'm feeling pretty happy about it so far. I've been working at the circulation desk at the library. It's been very slow-paced this week and relaxing; today I did a good bit of work for my class that starts next week and got to crank the new Coldplay album since nobody was there for awhile. Next week will be busier but it will still be a very low-stress job. I'm secretly planning an underground library dance party. I'm asking Daft Punk and Hot Chip to play for us.

The 2 summer classes end mid-July, and then I'll have the rest of the summer to play around in Chicago and check out all the places I've been wanting to go for 2 years. I'm also hoping to go see Matisyahu at the Rivenia (a Jewish reggae rapper) and Garisson Keillor's "A Prairie Home Companion." I need to go back to that blues club I found last year (and drink a bit less this time). :)

I had a nice few weeks at home and got to catch up with a few old friends I haven't seen in a long time. I wanted to go to Jackson for a bit but it didn't work out timing wise; since my car is older, I didn't drive it back home, so I had to use mom's car when I could. When I found out I couldn't go to Jackson, I literally cried for 2 hours. I never believed it when I heard how much people would miss college. I don't miss college, but I miss my LU friends. Grad school is good, and I feel more in my element at a seminary than I did as an English major (never though I knew *quite* enough literature; my friends always seemed more well-read than I was). All of that to say that I cried Jackson out of my system and dealt with the fact that most of my friends are now spread out over the south and no longer an hour and a half away from my house.

Hmm, what else? Last week I got the idea in my head that I want to write for the UM Publishing House in Nashville. Not sure in what capacity or what kind of qualifications I'll need, but this is my latest goal. Or, at least what I've been telling people this week (you know, the mobs of people who knock on my door and say, "Adrienne, what are you doing with your life?"). Not that I've spent any significant amount of time in Nashville, but I think it would be a good place to be for awhile (Lauren, you seem pretty happy there).

I'm also coming to terms with my love-hate relationship with the Memphis conference. One day I'm having a delightful and affirming phone interview with the conference secretary, and another I'm reading an email from the scholarship coordinator who insists that I'm wasting the conference's money for pursuing deacon's orders and having the nerve to get an M.Div. instead of a 2 year "deacon" degree. Pardon the French (and I really do mean it) but fuck that! I don't need it. Not after I've worked hard to get here. Not after I've gone through a process that's taken me 4 1/2 years. Not after I've kept my grades up and made it clear that I'm not taking my education lightly. The Memphis conference wants to be bi-polar about how they want to treat deacons, and now I have to choose whether to be in the dysfunctional family. I'm not really sure I'm ready for that addition.

In other news, one of my friends tonight told me 2 or 3 times that she needs a boyfriend. I told her, "You don't *need* a boyfriend. You're doing a damn good job of being who you are without one. You *want* a boyfriend." And I guess that's where I'm at, too. Except that my impressions of many men have not been, say, "good." I'm not a big fan of vulnerability, nor am I an advocate of letting someone have that emotional power over me (and there is *always* emotional power).
I already expect to get the boyfriend question when I go home for any amount of time, from extended family and old friends alike. It isn't that I mind the question - who wouldn't want to know about a new, happy relationship? The problem is the rapid-fire ways in which people ask the question. Even though it's 2008, apparently it doesn't matter that I'm almost finished with a master's degree, or that I moved to a city and have been doing alright. More recently, I've toyed with the idea of a series of smart-ass answers, my favorite (so far) being, "Well, I've got about 11 or 12, but they live in different cities...and actually, I forget all of their names, so forgive me. It's just nice to have company when I travel. I'll have to get back to you later." Or I could say I'm a lesbian. If I could become a lesbian, I probably would, but alas. I like the mens. How unfortunate.

In the meantime, I will continue to do my thing and not lament over men. I'd like a boyfriend, but I don't need one. Besides, I have 2 back-up husbands if I'm not married by the time I'm 30, so I'm not entirely worried.

I guess that's it for now. Oh, and one more thing or 2. If you have to make a purchase this week, let it be either "Narrow Stairs" by Death Cab for Cutie or Coldplay's new album, coming out on Friday. Don't cop out and buy singles from iTunes. Buy a CD. It will feel good. Just like old times, before iPods (or Zunes, in my case).

That's all. Holla.

*throws up hands in the air dramatically*

AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay, I'm done now...no, wait

AGHAGHAGHHhh!!!!!

Okay, all better.

The end.

It's Earth Day. Do something nice for the earth. Unplug some stuff, turn on less lights. Unplug your chargers when they're not being used.

Anything - just do something.

Bye!

This past week: A preached sermon in class for Dr. Brooks, led interfaith worship, an exegetical presentation on a 40+ page article, an emotionally intense death experiential for the death conference (presented on behalf of a friend who couldn't make it), my own presentation at the death conference, moderated 2 other presentations.

Tomorrow: Papers and then bowling! Skokie Lanes, a nice old bowling alley that's been around for almost 100 years, is closing at the end of the month...thus allowing me the opportunity of going bowling in the middle of MethodistMania (i.e. seminary classes and General Conference discussion plus end-of-semester papers). Wooden floors, an old bar and paper score pads. The kind of bowling alley that restores your faith in humanity. I'm looking forward to it.

Phew. Looking forward to the weekend. Writing 3 papers, but at least I won't have any more major presentations next week. Looking forward to getting home...May 17th, please hurry...

As expected, right on time as usual, things are falling apart. I feel like I've been working non-stop the past several days and I haven't had much time with friends...okay, that's understating it. I may see 2 friends a week for dinner, and that's the extent of it usually. I haven't seen my mom in almost 3 1/2 months, and the usual end-of-semester-crunch is extra crunchy this year. I was driving to work tonight when all of a sudden I was hit with another round of homesickness and I started crying. I tried to stop and hold it back, but it got worse when I got to my office, and then my supervisor called. She asked me how I was doing and I told her not to ask, but she knew something was wrong. After I went upstairs to give her the worship format (since I was supposed to be leading the worship service) she took me into her office and let me cry for a few minutes before telling me to go home. I was supposed to meet up with a friend of mine I haven't seen in awhile, who I'm almost convinced doesn't think I care anymore.

I thought I'd be able to handle it this semester, truly...but it always happens. I know that all I can do is take it one day at a time and try not to think about how much longer I have until the break...so if that means shutting myself off and focusing on papers, or playing DDR tonight to get some stress out, fine. Just don't think that folks in seminary don't go through this, because trust me: they do. If there's anything I've learned in my time here, it's that people in the ministry are real and have the same struggles as you. I just hope that I can get through this without either turning into a drama queen or becoming numb.