It is Thursday, and quite a few Tuesdays have passed since I last blogged. I am pleased to say that I think I may be back on track. Tuesdays will be blogging in early morning after I get to the office. And after I take a minute to sit in the sanctuary and say a prayer.
At this point, I have settled into my apartment as much as I will. The 910 square feet turns out to be way too small – and is arranged in ways that do not suit my life. I have signed a seven month lease, so am biding my time. The apartment complex runs with the Bosque, a God’s place in this New Mexico high desert if ever there was one. I walk this area some mornings and wonder where all the water comes from. I know that our apartment complex coaxes green grass much more than I am comfortable with – even in Pennsylvania, we were concerned about water usage.
Another sight that impresses me as I walk on the Bosque are birds. On Tuesday morning, a local hummer fluttered around me for at least two minutes. I stood still (as in a tai chi bamboo-in-the-wind pose) the tiny wings flapped and the long beak investigated whether I was a source of food or not (not). With my eyes, I looked to see if there were flowers around and I saw none, though after I started walking again, I noticed tiny blue flowers barely sticking out of earth crushed by footprints of runners and walkers. I marveled at the smallness of the flowers and that I had not noticed them as I meditated – what ever happened to Thich Naht Hanh’s reminder about walking with mind attending to surroundings. The hummer left me to find food at a close flower and then I started noticing other birds (swallows ? - I really need a NM bird guide) that were dive-bombing the running water. There were a few goldfinches too.
Speaking of birds, early my first Sunday in NM, but not my first Sunday at church, I walked to church and went in the open door. No one saw me at 6:15 (the door was open because an early group gathers) so I wandered around this new church I am called to pastor. There to greet me was a roadrunner – trapped by the huge glass windows and desperately trying to find a way out. I tried to help, but without success. The poor bird was terrified and kept hopping around. She must have found the open door, because I have not seen her since.
New Mexico is an awesome place. The high desert lives up to the name “Land of Enchantment” and except for the total lack of rain, is pretty awesome. It would be foolish to expect much rain in a desert, but we need some. This season of the year is billed as “monsoon” season. From many years in Colorado, I remember arroyos filled with boiling, rolling water at least two to three times each year. A friend came from Colorado Springs and we went to the Indian Pueblo Cultural Center while she visited for the day. We stayed to see the dancing demonstration at 2PM. We sat in shade, the two dancers were in the scorching sun. The lead dancer addressed a question about “rain dances” and responded that all dances are rain dances. Rain is so crucial to every aspect of life that asking the gods for rain every chance is a prime concern. We could make it one of ours. Water keeps us alive – even much water at a time can be managed. A public service announcement here reminds Albuquerque residents that a tremendous water system keeps this city alive. It also reminds locals that we are responsible for keeping water clean.
So – thoughts spanning several Tuesdays from New Mexico. In all, I find that God has been so good to me by giving me this call to St. Paul’s United Church of Christ in Rio Rancho New Mexico. I try to follow Meister Eckhart’s advice when I pray "If the only prayer you said in your whole life was, "thank you," that would suffice." So, I say thank you to God, daily.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Friday, July 22, 2011
Transitioning
This morning at an apparently very early hour, I decided to walk to the local coffee shop for breakfast there being virtually nothing at my apartment to eat. Here are my observations:
First: though the restaurant was open for business at 6AM, few customers were there by 7AM. One of the things I went for was conversation - even wore a United Church of Christ shirt that might provoke some comments. Each of those who were eating (all four of them) dutifully kept nose in newspaper, computer or magazine. Me, too, after I found no one to talk with. Doesn’t everyone jump out of bed ready to talk?
Second, I was the first customer at the local market while all the fruit was still being sorted - apparently carnage from overnight fairies who run havoc over the place.
Third, when looking up, one sees that others are up early as well - the balloonists are out in full force this early time while it is not too hot and the city is not likely to have storms until the later afternoon. Actually, we have had rain two days in a row - that after months of nothing. A congregation member asked me to bring rain - perhaps I did.
As I mused and walked, it dawned (pun intended) on me that I am still on PA time. At night I want to sleep at 9PM and get up six hours later at 3AM. Not so good. Trying to change my body’s clock is not as difficult as changing the internal clocks of two cats who like to eat the moment I get up. They have learned they can hurry my rising by patting my face.
As I finish this blog it is 8:30. For many, the day is beginning. For me, the time has been productive though I am on vacation: wrote a letter of recommendation for a potential seminary student, did some on-line banking, purchased a card to send off a legal document, fed the kitties, read a bit from If the Church Were Christian by Philip Gulley (2010), looked at my five email addresses and remembered again that I need to consolidate them to save my sanity, and prayed a bit (praying was first not last). I hope I get to be on Albuquerque time pretty soon!
First: though the restaurant was open for business at 6AM, few customers were there by 7AM. One of the things I went for was conversation - even wore a United Church of Christ shirt that might provoke some comments. Each of those who were eating (all four of them) dutifully kept nose in newspaper, computer or magazine. Me, too, after I found no one to talk with. Doesn’t everyone jump out of bed ready to talk?
Second, I was the first customer at the local market while all the fruit was still being sorted - apparently carnage from overnight fairies who run havoc over the place.
Third, when looking up, one sees that others are up early as well - the balloonists are out in full force this early time while it is not too hot and the city is not likely to have storms until the later afternoon. Actually, we have had rain two days in a row - that after months of nothing. A congregation member asked me to bring rain - perhaps I did.
As I mused and walked, it dawned (pun intended) on me that I am still on PA time. At night I want to sleep at 9PM and get up six hours later at 3AM. Not so good. Trying to change my body’s clock is not as difficult as changing the internal clocks of two cats who like to eat the moment I get up. They have learned they can hurry my rising by patting my face.
As I finish this blog it is 8:30. For many, the day is beginning. For me, the time has been productive though I am on vacation: wrote a letter of recommendation for a potential seminary student, did some on-line banking, purchased a card to send off a legal document, fed the kitties, read a bit from If the Church Were Christian by Philip Gulley (2010), looked at my five email addresses and remembered again that I need to consolidate them to save my sanity, and prayed a bit (praying was first not last). I hope I get to be on Albuquerque time pretty soon!
Monday, July 4, 2011
Walking and chewing gum
Each person chooses a path to follow through life. We know that some choose fame, others fortune. I chose a world that did not pay much in money, but gave me satisfaction. I often thought that if I made a difference in one person’s life, that I had been successful. While in the nonprofit arena, that success was thought to be found in the populations I served: youth, homeless families, teen parents, the hungry. I know that I did make a difference for at least some. And that is gratifying.
Since donning this clergy hat, I wanted to make a difference to one seeker - or to many - but one never knows if or how that difference manifests itself. As I leave Soul Link Faith Community and Tioga County, PA, I am told that I did make a difference. So many people have said that the presence of this accepting church has been positive in the community. The ways it has made an impact are not blatant. People who don’t fit the standard Christian mold found a place to worship where they were accepted and welcomed. Those who seek God, but are not sure -- who ever is -- found they could ask questions in an open forum without concern of ridicule or derision. Some who were jaded by previous religious experience joined and found a niche. One man told me I had saved Christianity for him. I am humbled.
Since I am not motivated by money I thank God that the non-tangible things that motivate me have an effect. I will miss this Pennsylvania mountain area where I am always considered a "flatlander." Going home to the West has its drawbacks.
Since donning this clergy hat, I wanted to make a difference to one seeker - or to many - but one never knows if or how that difference manifests itself. As I leave Soul Link Faith Community and Tioga County, PA, I am told that I did make a difference. So many people have said that the presence of this accepting church has been positive in the community. The ways it has made an impact are not blatant. People who don’t fit the standard Christian mold found a place to worship where they were accepted and welcomed. Those who seek God, but are not sure -- who ever is -- found they could ask questions in an open forum without concern of ridicule or derision. Some who were jaded by previous religious experience joined and found a niche. One man told me I had saved Christianity for him. I am humbled.
Since I am not motivated by money I thank God that the non-tangible things that motivate me have an effect. I will miss this Pennsylvania mountain area where I am always considered a "flatlander." Going home to the West has its drawbacks.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Growing up
July 11 - the day of the move. In some ways, it seems as though July 11 will never arrive; in other ways, time does fly.
My house is under-contract so things are going along in a Godly fashion. A dream I had last night made me aware that I have an attachment to too many “things” and that some of them need to be let go. Some are belongings I moved from Colorado three years ago. some, not many, I acquired while here - that even counts the Wellsboro walking stick I purchased at the Laurel Festival that will accompany me on hikes when I get to my new home. This morning I sold my glass-top table to someone who will put it to good use. Two chairs are promised to John and Bill, the Christmas Tree that is too large will be snatched up by a young family at the yard sale.
Aware that some things may need to be replaced, I have put money received from selling into a separate account, to be closed when I leave and used for those things I decide I need. An example: The microwave went home with Ann and I test my life sans microwave for one month. If life is painful, I will purchase a smaller one, with fewer bells and whistles in NM. The only things safe from purging are preaching and theology books - these stay for many more years. O, and the cats!
Each time I decide not to take one of my possessions that I have held on to for these years, a bit of me grieves. Sensibilities say “let go” - sentiment says “it does not take much room” - right now sentiment is winning.
Divesting myself of these possessions means I begin a way of life that was at once very distant: older age. Statistic: a huge percentage of older Americans will work until they are 80. I suspect the life that accompanies the work takes on a different tone. My downsizing is poignant, but I am determined not to hold on to so much that they consider me a candidate for Hoarders. My new digs have 910 square feet, down from about 2,000 here. No sentimental ash trays for me! (I quit smoking some 30 years ago, but one ash tray somehow made it across the country several times.) No Christmas tree and lights that take up half of my living room, and the round table was just too impractical for the small dining “room” of this new apartment. Memories stay, they don’t take up much room.
Bring on this older age!
My house is under-contract so things are going along in a Godly fashion. A dream I had last night made me aware that I have an attachment to too many “things” and that some of them need to be let go. Some are belongings I moved from Colorado three years ago. some, not many, I acquired while here - that even counts the Wellsboro walking stick I purchased at the Laurel Festival that will accompany me on hikes when I get to my new home. This morning I sold my glass-top table to someone who will put it to good use. Two chairs are promised to John and Bill, the Christmas Tree that is too large will be snatched up by a young family at the yard sale.
Aware that some things may need to be replaced, I have put money received from selling into a separate account, to be closed when I leave and used for those things I decide I need. An example: The microwave went home with Ann and I test my life sans microwave for one month. If life is painful, I will purchase a smaller one, with fewer bells and whistles in NM. The only things safe from purging are preaching and theology books - these stay for many more years. O, and the cats!
Each time I decide not to take one of my possessions that I have held on to for these years, a bit of me grieves. Sensibilities say “let go” - sentiment says “it does not take much room” - right now sentiment is winning.
Divesting myself of these possessions means I begin a way of life that was at once very distant: older age. Statistic: a huge percentage of older Americans will work until they are 80. I suspect the life that accompanies the work takes on a different tone. My downsizing is poignant, but I am determined not to hold on to so much that they consider me a candidate for Hoarders. My new digs have 910 square feet, down from about 2,000 here. No sentimental ash trays for me! (I quit smoking some 30 years ago, but one ash tray somehow made it across the country several times.) No Christmas tree and lights that take up half of my living room, and the round table was just too impractical for the small dining “room” of this new apartment. Memories stay, they don’t take up much room.
Bring on this older age!
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Stage of Grief
Sermon prep waits and I am aware that I preach at Soul Link only three more times; I already know what the final sermon will be. I want to be sure that the other two are of value for those who remain here preparing to take up the slack while preparing to find someone new to lead this congregation. People ask me whether I am concerned that this congregation will survive. And, I would be if I did not think that I have prepared them to be a congregation in service of God rather than a congregation that is “my” flock.
Some nice things many people tell me is that I have made a difference in this county during my three short (sometimes very, very long) years here. People call me and email me (some of them I don’t even know) to tell me they appreciate that I take a vocal stand for those on the margins or those who need help. I decided a while ago that I have a voice and I need to use it. So I do. I try to remember, even as I use this voice, that some who hear me are offended. I hope not to offend so much that the message of hope and justice and love is lost. I remember recently when one clergy in the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) refused to stand next to me because I am so liberal. So, obviously, I do offend loudly! Boldly! Maybe so. But let’s not lose the message.
What is poignant for me is that when I leave here, I will not know how this congregation fares - I will not know if a pastor is found or if the congregation continues or what it looks like in five years and ten years. I cannot come back, I cannot be in contact with members of the congregation - that does not mean that I don’t care. Just that I honor my denomination’s desire that I leave and leave cleanly for the next person of the cloth to come and minister to a healthy congregation.
I am eager to move to New Mexico (St. Paul’s UCC in Rio Rancho) and start this next chapter of my clergy life. At the same time, I will miss Wellsboro and Mansfield and the many friends I have found here - people who accepted me even though I don’t have deep roots here. I do have little hair roots that have been cared for by many. I pray that this move provides me with deep roots and a congregation that is as accepting and loving as the one I am leaving. My spiritual director reminds me that it is in God’s hands. So, into your hands O God, my future. Into your loving hands O God, this Soul Link Faith Community.
Some nice things many people tell me is that I have made a difference in this county during my three short (sometimes very, very long) years here. People call me and email me (some of them I don’t even know) to tell me they appreciate that I take a vocal stand for those on the margins or those who need help. I decided a while ago that I have a voice and I need to use it. So I do. I try to remember, even as I use this voice, that some who hear me are offended. I hope not to offend so much that the message of hope and justice and love is lost. I remember recently when one clergy in the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) refused to stand next to me because I am so liberal. So, obviously, I do offend loudly! Boldly! Maybe so. But let’s not lose the message.
What is poignant for me is that when I leave here, I will not know how this congregation fares - I will not know if a pastor is found or if the congregation continues or what it looks like in five years and ten years. I cannot come back, I cannot be in contact with members of the congregation - that does not mean that I don’t care. Just that I honor my denomination’s desire that I leave and leave cleanly for the next person of the cloth to come and minister to a healthy congregation.
I am eager to move to New Mexico (St. Paul’s UCC in Rio Rancho) and start this next chapter of my clergy life. At the same time, I will miss Wellsboro and Mansfield and the many friends I have found here - people who accepted me even though I don’t have deep roots here. I do have little hair roots that have been cared for by many. I pray that this move provides me with deep roots and a congregation that is as accepting and loving as the one I am leaving. My spiritual director reminds me that it is in God’s hands. So, into your hands O God, my future. Into your loving hands O God, this Soul Link Faith Community.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Wellsboro
I am in the betwixt and between mode - eager to leave, sad to leave, hungry to start at St. Paul's and missing my friends here already. Celia has contacted a friend so that I have someone to talk to when I get to Rio Rancho and Judith and Ardys say that our friendships endure distance. I hope so. In the meantime, I do activities of daily living. Sermon is ready for tomorrow as are bulletins.
After a terrible winter, spring has been just as bad. We have had storms: A stained glass window at our church sustained damage in the tornado/high winds of Thursday evening but otherwise, the church is fine as are we all. On Wednesday evening, I cut my grass wearing my striped rain boots and was soaked when the grass was finally presentable. This is the season of cutting twice a week, so on Monday, I will cut again. I am reminded to give thanks that my basement has not flooded. Our local farmers are worried as they are unable to plant in the squishy ground. Even though we have much rain, Wellsboro has issued a boil order for our water once again because the filtering system is inadequate and outdated and outmoded. Second time for a boil order this year.
Next Saturday is our triathlon - swim, walk/run a 5K and bike ride 15 miles. We have been training since January when we agreed to do some outside exercise every Saturday when the temperature was in the double digits - quite a few times, it was just 10 degrees. Photo is of my training buddies.
Family, friends, church, wind, rain, baby birds outside - .
Much to be thankful for and much to concern us.
After a terrible winter, spring has been just as bad. We have had storms: A stained glass window at our church sustained damage in the tornado/high winds of Thursday evening but otherwise, the church is fine as are we all. On Wednesday evening, I cut my grass wearing my striped rain boots and was soaked when the grass was finally presentable. This is the season of cutting twice a week, so on Monday, I will cut again. I am reminded to give thanks that my basement has not flooded. Our local farmers are worried as they are unable to plant in the squishy ground. Even though we have much rain, Wellsboro has issued a boil order for our water once again because the filtering system is inadequate and outdated and outmoded. Second time for a boil order this year.
Next Saturday is our triathlon - swim, walk/run a 5K and bike ride 15 miles. We have been training since January when we agreed to do some outside exercise every Saturday when the temperature was in the double digits - quite a few times, it was just 10 degrees. Photo is of my training buddies.
Family, friends, church, wind, rain, baby birds outside - .
Much to be thankful for and much to concern us.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Monday
Yesterday was Mother’s Day - joyful for many, but not all. For me, a day when I tried to honor mothers at church while remembering that a few people wanted to be mothers but are not and some had mothers who were less than stellar. Our bulletin said we were honoring all who mothered us - giving some men the chance to be honored as well. I gave flowers to everyone. We had cake and coffee after worship - I appreciate all that this congregation does to hold us in a Christian community. In the afternoon, I talked to kids who live in distant places.
After getting home from worship I planted a couple of plants and then changed my clothes for a bike ride, to be followed by dinner that my friend’s husband cooked for us. The roast was yummy and accompanied by lots of vegetables topped off with homemade strawberry shortcake and coffee. Thanks Bruce!
The bike ride is in preparation for our local triathlon on June 4th. In the sporting event - really a training for one in August in Lewisburg, we swim 300 yards, run a 5K and bike 15 miles. We started training in January, though yesterday was the first day to ride a bike because the weather through the early spring has been so wet and cold. We swim weekly, I go to a fitness center and do treadmill 3-4 times a week, but biking was not possible. Yesterday it was so we took to the trails with exuberance riding 9.0 miles - until I gave out.
For some reason, I want to behave as though I were in my twenties - ride the bike, run, swim distances. I know I don't feel older than I used to, perhaps this exercise helps me fool myself. I am fearful -- if I give up activity, will I need a rocking chair on my front porch? Will I start wearing old lady printed dresses? Will I give up progressive lenses for bifocals because they are less work? Maybe I will use my blender more. The thoughts are not at all appealing. I read that 60 is the new 40. I hope so. I hope I remain active until it is time for me to leave this glorious earth. I plan to keep riding and running and swimming long as I can - long as God gives me stamina and sunshine and some running paths.
Today, we again rode our bikes - it was more difficult today because the wind seemed to slow us down as we strained to go up hill. What our parents said may be true: they walked five miles to school UPHILL both ways. This afternoon, we rode 9.5 miles, uphill all the way. Or so it seemed.
After getting home from worship I planted a couple of plants and then changed my clothes for a bike ride, to be followed by dinner that my friend’s husband cooked for us. The roast was yummy and accompanied by lots of vegetables topped off with homemade strawberry shortcake and coffee. Thanks Bruce!
The bike ride is in preparation for our local triathlon on June 4th. In the sporting event - really a training for one in August in Lewisburg, we swim 300 yards, run a 5K and bike 15 miles. We started training in January, though yesterday was the first day to ride a bike because the weather through the early spring has been so wet and cold. We swim weekly, I go to a fitness center and do treadmill 3-4 times a week, but biking was not possible. Yesterday it was so we took to the trails with exuberance riding 9.0 miles - until I gave out.
For some reason, I want to behave as though I were in my twenties - ride the bike, run, swim distances. I know I don't feel older than I used to, perhaps this exercise helps me fool myself. I am fearful -- if I give up activity, will I need a rocking chair on my front porch? Will I start wearing old lady printed dresses? Will I give up progressive lenses for bifocals because they are less work? Maybe I will use my blender more. The thoughts are not at all appealing. I read that 60 is the new 40. I hope so. I hope I remain active until it is time for me to leave this glorious earth. I plan to keep riding and running and swimming long as I can - long as God gives me stamina and sunshine and some running paths.
Today, we again rode our bikes - it was more difficult today because the wind seemed to slow us down as we strained to go up hill. What our parents said may be true: they walked five miles to school UPHILL both ways. This afternoon, we rode 9.5 miles, uphill all the way. Or so it seemed.
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