My Racist Life

I was born and raised in the United States Army.  According to 2012 statistics, 40.1% of Active Duty personnel identify as racial or ethnic minorities (Black or African American, Hispanic, Asian, American Indian or Alaska Native, Native Hawaiian or other Pacific Islander, multi-racial, or other/unknown).  My dad is a physical therapist, and so I spent a lot of time around other MEDDAC staff of a variety of races and ethnicities – officers and enlisted, those with high levels of education and those with less.  
 

My earliest memories are of living in Bremerhaven, Germany, where one of my closest preschool friends was a black boy named Teddy.  His dad was either a surgeon or an anesthesiologist (I can’t quite remember which), and he and my dad were friends.  Often, when Teddy’s dad had to be in the OR, he would invite my dad to come along to watch and learn.  At the time, the base housing complex we lived in had a lot of older kids, and far fewer younger ones.  I was about 4 years old, and Teddy must have been the same.  We stuck together on the playground, against those mean 5^th graders who spun the merry-go-round too fast so we would fall off.  

Later, when my sister was born, our Hispanic Latino neighbors who lived across the hall would cheerfully send their small dog over after dinner each night to clean up under her high chair.

My dad played on various softball and volleyball teams growing up, filled with a variety of races and ethnicities – again, representing the broader culture of the U.S. military.  

This was the world I lived in.

At the end of 4^th grade, I was diagnosed with bone cancer, and my dad was transferred to a post in Maryland, so that I could be treated at Walter Reed Army Medical Center.  You meet a lot of people when you spend that much time in the hospital.  The first night we spent there (having been medevac’d in on a cargo plane), we met Jennifer – a six year old black girl who had the same diagnosis as me, and her mother, who was an Army cook.  

In the ensuing weeks, months, and years, I met, interacted with, and was cared for by people of a variety of races and ethnicities.  Black, Asian, Hispanic – doctors, nurses, nurses assistants, orderlies, cleaning staff, cafeteria cooks and cashiers, radiology techs, gift shop and bookmobile volunteers.  Fellow travelers at the hospital and local Ronald McDonald House.  

In 5^th grade, I had my first real crush on a boy.  His name was Bryan, and he was an African American kid in my class.  I found him cute and kind, a little more thoughtful than the rest of our male classmates who were, age-appropriately, mostly rather obnoxious.  

As I grew, these sorts of interactions continued.  Even as I finished treatment and my family moved on, I found myself engaging with people of diverse racial backgrounds because of where we lived, where I went to school, and who my dad worked with.  When my parents hosted the occasional party, men and women of all ethnicities hung out at my house – some even spent time with us during the holidays, when they couldn’t take the leave to go home to their families.  

This was all perfectly normal to me.  The only reason that I can now recall these interactions as having any relation at all to race is because I’ve been culling my memories for months.  

All of this is not to suggest by virtue of personal anecdote that I am not racist because I “have black friends” or whatever.  

No.  The point I want to make is that, from early childhood, I interacted with and was comfortable around people of all races and ethnicities.  And now I'm not.

I will freely admit that I am no longer comfortable around blacks, Native Americans, Asians, and other people of color.  Does this make me a racist?  Probably, but then, from what I’ve learned over the last few years in “anti-racism training” and “diversity awareness workshops”, I always was racist, and I always will be.  According to reigning social theory, it is impossible for white people to not be racist, and is impossible for any non-whites to be racist.  Ever.  Anywhere.  In any culture.  Or any location.  I’m not sure if there’s some sort of “racist gene” that is coded into my DNA, that individuals of color lack, but somehow or another, I’ve been educated to understand that I cannot not be a racist.  

Which is bad.  I mean, you’re not supposed to be a racist, right?  But if you’re white (like me), you can’t help it.  So naturally I feel guilty about this.  Now, the guilt is not the biggest issue.  I’ll deal with that, I guess. (Although, for the record, I have yet to hear anyone suggest that the sin of racism is in any way forgiveable by a Holy God. So maybe I won’t deal with it.)

What I can’t avoid is the discomfort, the self-consciousness, the self-focus, the incurvatus se - oh look, there's another sin - that now hallmarks all my interactions with people of color.  

If I see someone on the street or in a store, do I look at them (or is that staring? Judging?  Wondering why they are here – in this store, on this planet?)  Do I not look at them (or is that avoiding them? Rejecting? Dehumanizing?)

Do I say hello? If I say hello will it sound sincere?  Will it be interpreted as sincere? Will it look like I’m “trying to not be racist”?  Oh, who am I kidding?  I’m an introvert.  I really don’t say hello to random strangers on the street, ever.  But this person doesn’t know that.  If I don’t say hello, will they think it’s because they are [fill in race here]?  

What about something as complicated as counting the change I receive, rather than tossing it into my wallet?  Or checking over a restaurant bill twice?  If I do that to a clerk or waitress, will they think it’s because I don’t trust them, rather than because that’s just what I do?  God forgive I have to ask a person of color for help – in a classroom, in a store, on the side of the road if my car has broken down.  What if it looks like I think they are all “the help” and exist on this planet to serve me?  If I don’t ask, when I clearly am in need, does the person notice and assume that I don’t want their help? 

And when a person of color initiates a conversation with me – what happens if I, as an introvert, am annoyed by unnecessary small talk?  What if they ask for help that I’m simply unable or unqualified to give? Will they interpret that as animus?  

The list goes on. 

And it makes me sad.  It makes me sad that if I ran into my friend Teddy, who taught me to dip my French fries in mayo, I wouldn’t know how to interact with him.  It makes me sad that the gynecologist can’t send their dog over to vacuum up baby food in my house anymore – because isn’t that just an extension of the Hispanics-as-cleaners stereotype?  It makes me sad that Jennifer, who once displeased her mother and amused all the rest of us when she got so frustrated with her prosthesis that she threw it in a lake, sees me as an oppressor rather than a friend and fellow cancer survivor.  It makes me sad that all those doctors and nurses and other people who cared for me did it not because they enjoyed their careers, but because of some institutionalized power structure that requires people of color to serve whites.  It makes me sad that all those people my parents welcomed into their home over the years apparently viewed my family as patronizing rather than loving. 

It makes me sad that “anti-racism” efforts have made me more racist than I ever was.  

Congrats to those who feel better by this state of affairs.  

Count this unforgiven, unforgiveable racist out. 

Leftover Love

I've been coming to terms, more and more lately, with the idea of how much things change and relationships shift and one day you realize that your world is permanently different than it used to be 5 or 10 years ago, and perhaps different than you ever dreamed it would be. 

At least, it is for me. 

There's not even necessarily a good or bad judgment to this fact, simply an acknowledgement of what is.  There are things that I will never again see, places I will never again go, and friends that I will never again see.  And I've been wondering, and struggling, with how to accept that and let go of it, to love and honor the past as blessings from God in that time and place, and not wallow in the sadness of "change". 

The hardest part, of course, is the relationships.  As my move away from Iowa and my home congregation becomes permanent, how do I let the people go...how do I process the fact that individuals who were so important to me, are people that I will never share a cup of coffee with again?  As I leave seminary, how do I deal with the fact that people who have "made my day", every day, aren't next to me to count powerpoint slides in class or say something incredibly profound or smile at me from across the room?  As I become absorbed in a career, and more and more demands are placed on my time, how do I deal with losing those who re-energized me? 

I stumbled across this poem written by Hrabanus Maurus that has helped.  It has given me words to entrust all the people I love to Christ, to honor them as gifts, and to await the day when I will see them again.  I just love this:

Then live, my strength, anchor of weary ships,
Safe shore and land at last, thou, for my wreck,
My honour, thou, and my abiding rest,
My city safe for a bewildered heart.
That though the plains and mountains and the sea
Between us are, that which no earth can hold
Still follows thee, and love’s own singing follows,
Longing that all things may be well with thee.
Christ who first gave thee for a friend to me,
Christ keep thee well, where’er thou art, for me.
Earth’s self shall go and the swift wheel of heaven
Perish and pass, before our love shall cease.
Do but remember me, as I do thee,
And God, who brought us on this earth together,
Bring us together to his house of heaven.
~ Hrabanus Maurus

I also think part of the struggle for me is that I have no one and nothing to replace the people that I love, who have been part of my daily life.  Wesley Hill, writing for First Things, explores "Celibacy and Friendship 'After 30'", by discussing a New York Times article that explains how difficult it is to find meaningful relationships as a single adult.  He raises a lot of issues (and in the end, admits that he doesn't have it all figured out), but one thing that really struck me was the idea that, "a big part of what we celibate people are seeking isn’t just to be the recipients of sacrificial love but to be able to give it—we want to be able to make soup for someone who’s sick, not just have someone who will make soup for us when we’re sick." 

Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes.  Facebook is great, usually, and my phone works, as well as my writing hand.  And so I keep in touch (mostly) with the people I care so deeply about.  But they are now "phone friends", the kind that you want to spend three hours talking to, and so you put them on your to-do list until you can find three hours, and somehow, you never do.  They are no longer the friends that you call and say, "I'm headed your way, do you want meet me in an hour?" or "I'm bored, want to go see a movie?" or even "I haven't seen you in a while - let's do lunch on Tuesday."  And that happens.  But while the people I care so deeply about have been relegated to "long-distance friends", the space in my life has not been filled.  "Giving love" to those whom I care about, long-distance, is so hard, and I have no real recipients - or at least, that's how I feel.  The ones I love have not been replaced, they are simply missed. 

Yes, Christ calls us to leave home and family, and not put our hand back to the plow.  But it is also not good that we be alone.  And I just don't know how to balance those two right now.  Someone once said that "grief is just leftover love", which I think is a beautiful way of looking at it.  As I by necessity become more separated from so much that I used to know, I realize that I've got a lot of leftover love to go around...

2012...in the books!

1. What did you do in 2011 that you'd never done before? 
Got "drafted", got ordained, preached in sem chapel, served as the sis' maid-of-honor, started running, stared down a crazy lady and disarmed her with the power of prayer, learned about asbestos

2. Did you keep your New Year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year? 
Eh...I did alright on the yoga front, but then things got busy and crazy and it kind of fell off the map...not really making any this year.  I don't know, not that there aren't things I want or need to do, but making those things "Resolutions" just seems to tank them, I don't know...

3. Did anyone close to you give birth? 
Tim & Emma, whom I'm a horrible person and I forgot, Erin-the-bestie, Molly, no one else that I'm particularly close to

4. Did anyone close to you die? 
Again, no one that I was especially close to

5. What countries did you visit? 
I spent 2012 just chillin' in the good ol' US of A...

6. What would you like to have in 2013 that you lacked in 2012? 
I reeeaaaaalllly need a Churchstock-ish small group...

7. What date(s) from 2012 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? 
Ash Wednesday, because it turned out to be a really fantastic evening, the sis' wedding ('cause duh), ordination, Christmas Eve

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? 
Le Breakup, which is kind of sad, but it really represents a strength and courage that I didn't know I had, incredible self-awareness, and the ability to make really good decisions, no matter how hard they are.  Also, getting ordained, and landing a job despite interviewing with a fever of 103 and being so ill I thought I might pass out while touring the building...learning about HAES...

9. What was your biggest failure? 
Not getting into Marquette.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury? 
Surgerized the endo, although it seems to be returning.  Gigantor sinus infection (see #8).

11. What was the best thing you bought? 
A new couch.  (I guess?)  An alb.  Grace for the Good Girl.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration? 
Will, for toughing out the sheer insanity with me.  Katie E, for just generally being awesome and amazing, and advocating for me and Will when we couldn't do it for ourselves anymore, and for canting at my ordination.  Carrie Carrol, because she listens and cares. Mark Granquist - he cares *so much* about his students.  Bishop Zellmer, for drafting me.  Bill Tesch, for talking about Jesus.  Erik, for loving me.  Liz, for talking me through approval.  Luke, for entertaining me on Ash Wednesday.  Rachel, for introducing me to the Uptown Cafeteria and Support Group.  Erin for being so ridic supportive this fall, Molly for preaching the law to me when I needed to hear it. 

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? 
See, the thing is: if you want me to grab your ass in public, and then don't understand why I balk at that, I will automatically be appalled and depressed. 

14. Where did most of your money go? 
School...again...

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? 
The Boy, graduating, being ordained, Katie and Will's Magic Spreadsheet, the Olympics (including the US men's water polo team...), Christmas at the Capitol, my congregation *totally* rocking the Nunc Dimittis on Christmas Eve

16. What song will always remind you of 2012? 
"Tonight Tonight" by Hot Chelle Rae

17. Compared to this time last year, are you: i. Happier or sadder?  ii. Thinner or fatter?  iii. Richer or poorer? Happier, don't care (yay HAES!), richer (yay, job!)

18. What do you wish you'd done more of? 
Playing!
 
19. What do you wish you'd done less of? 
Obsessing about dumb things/people.

20. How did you spend Christmas? 
Worship on Christmas Eve, then dinner with a family from church.  Made a figgy pudding on Christmas Day.

21. How did you spend New Year's Eve? 
Frozen egg rolls, Full House reruns, and lots of productive-ness for work.

22. Did you fall in love in 2011? 
I guess I didn't "fall in love" in the romantic sense...but I learned a lot about what really loving someone (a friend, a SO, a fellow Christian, etc) actually means, and actually feels like.

23. How many one-night stands? 
Nope!

24. What was your favorite TV program? 
Hawaii Five-O, the Olympics

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year? 
Does it sound overly pious and gag-me-with-a-Christian to say, "I don't know that I really hate anyone, people just tick me off" ??

26. What was the best book you read? 
Grace for the Good Girl, and Freedom for Ministry

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Um...

28. What did you want and get? 
vocational clarity, the new worship "curriculum" by Chris Scharen, (thanks, Liz and Rachel!)

29. What did you want and not get? 
A mix CD, haha.

30. What was your favorite film of this year? 
Won't Back Down

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? 
Turned 31, had dinner and played Apples at Chatterbox with Liz, Rachel, and Bonnie. 

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? 
Hmm...anyway...

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2011? 
Balancing my personality with "dressy enough" for work...a little more into skirts

34. What kept you sane? 
God and my friends, pink wine, frozen yogurt, Grace for the Good Girl

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? 
Kirani James + Oscar Pistorius, Paul Ryan, Gabby Douglas, N.T. Wright

36. What political issue stirred you the most? 
The general idiocy of pretty much every elected official, particularly at the federal level

37. Who did you miss? 
Um, basically everyone.

38. Who was the best new person you met? 
Baby Malachi.  My new bishop.  Le Boy, at least at the time. 

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2012: 
Know yourself and your needs, and don't be afraid to advocate for them.  When you care about people, tell them. 

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year: 
"Well Done" by Moriah Peters

I'm headed down this narrow road
Chosen by the few
And all that I know is
You told me to follow You

I'm taking a risk and leaving it all
Not knowing what I'll go through
But I'm not alone
As long as I follow You

So when my life's a leap of faith
I can hear You say

Well done, well done
I'm gonna chase You, Lord
I'm gonna show the world Your love, woah
I'll run, I'll run
I'm gonna run this race
To hear You say well done

If people walk with me, talk with me, looking for truth
They're gonna find out soon
If they're following me then
They're gonna follow You

So let my life speak loud and clear
Lord, I wanna hear

Well done, well done
I'm gonna chase You, Lord
I'm gonna show the world Your love, woah
I'll run, I'll run
I'm gonna run this race
To hear You say well done

I'm so glad that I get to serve You, Lord
You're the only One I am living for, woah
I'm gonna run straight into Your open arms
I'm gonna follow You with my all heart, woah, woah

Well done, well done
I'm gonna chase You, Lord
I'm gonna show the world Your love, woah
I'll run, I'll run
I'm gonna run this race
To hear You say well done

I'm gonna run this race
To hear You say well done
[x2]

Well done

Life Update

It's 9:00 on December 23rd, and I'm bored, so I thought I'd update all 6 of you on life in South Dakota...

Running: Going awesome.  Just finished Week 2 in Couch-to-5K.  I decided to do two of each weekly plan, rather than pushing it super hard.  I'm getting a lot of flak from the Couch-to-5K Facebook page, who are basically all telling just to keep moving, but a) I'm a serious couch potato, and b) running with a prosthesis means that I'm already expending 2x the energy of the "normal" runner...also, since I don't have a "running" leg (the carbon fiber blades you see Oscar Pistorius and his gang run with), that doesn't help the situation at all.  So I'm taking it a little slow, but it's winter in SD, and 18 weeks instead of 9 still barely gets me to the 5K season up here...  Anyways, it feels great.  I've had to hit the treadmill the last couple weeks, since it's been solid ice on the sidewalks around town.  I can figure out how to handle the cold, but I'm not too keen on the prospect of falling flat on my face...  For some reason my shin splints and general knee pain are worse on the treadmill (???) than on the concrete...who's ready for the ice to melt?  Also, this week was Day 1 of TOM, and holy cow did I get nailed...Tuesday was my first day of Week 2 - it was tough, but I made it through. Thursday was my 2nd day of Week 2, and Day 1 of AF, and criminy I thought I was going to die.  I seriously only made it about 75% through the workout - I just had no energy.  Which was strange because was one of those months where I actually felt reasonably decent, as opposed to some months where it's 4:00 pm before I can even think about getting up off the couch...  So, TMI for all y'all, but then I ran again this afternoon after church (had Anytime Fitness all to myself  = awesome), made it through and it felt great.  Again, a tough workout, but a good one.  Yay!

Church: Pretty good, all things considered. We have lots of work too, mainly involving a shift in focus from survival/maintenance mode to growth/outreach mode.  The real issue, I think, is that there's a belief (or a want-to-believe) that this is basically the 1940s, everybody pretty much goes to church, and the way to grow the church is to have a pastor that makes people want to come to this church instead of the church down the street.  Don't get me wrong - I think this is probably the situation that a lot of churches are finding themselves in, and so we're not alone.  But I'm excited about the task ahead, which is preaching the idea that we're not in a Christian, or even a post-Christian era.  I'm starting to think that we're really in a pre-Christian era - people haven't heard the story and rejected it, they've never heard it in the first place.  The way to grow the church is not "be the coolest church around", but preach God's love and mercy and salvation, and have members that are on fire and ready to tell the good news - not that their church is cool, but that Jesus is infinitely amazing and is the only thing that has the power to resurrect the dead - whatever "dead" looks like in your life.  It's a huge mental shift for people who aren't used to thinking along those lines, and it'll come with time, I believe, so I'm not particularly frustrated or concerned - it was a huge mental shift for me the first time I encountered this approach to ministry.  The good news, though, is that the people are awesome.  It's just a really great congregation, that loves, and that has so many gifts, and is just waiting to burst forth, so let's go.

Confirmation: I just love teaching confirmation.  It was my favorite part of internship, it's my favorite part of ordained ministry.  These kids are just fantastic - I love giving them freedom to ask lots of questions.  Sometimes they're on topic, and sometimes not-so-much, but they get me and I get them.  We're having fun, and they seem to be learning.  What I want them to get out of confirmation is not to be perfect-little-Lutherans, but faithful, growing Christians who get it.  We're tossing out the memorize-every-word-of-the-Small-Catechism in favor of memorizing the Creed, the Lord's Prayer, and the Ten Commandments + 3 Bible verses that they choose.  I want them to have a faith that is meaningful to them.  So this year we're doing a little freelance-ish Youth Alpha and the Small Catechism (the whole thing, not just what I'm making them memorize).  This summer at camp, we'll do worship (why do we structure worship the way we do?), and next year they'll do a Bible overview - The Story, maybe, or something similar.   They're just really fantastic kids who are trying to get it, and learning how to think about and talk about God, and it's so much fun to watch!

Life in a Small Town: It's alright.  I like my town - it's actually a really good size - small enough to feel cozy, but big enough to have a grocery store and gym and Wal-Mart and furniture store and several churches and some fast food...The congregation has been pretty welcoming - I went to my grandparents' for Thanksgiving, but I'm having Christmas Eve dinner with a couple from the call committee.  The ladies made me a quilt for my installation today, which is absolutely gorgeous, and I just love to pieces.  But I'd also be lying if I said that I'm not lonely.  There really aren't many people here who are my age, and the ones who are, are all married-with-kids.  Most nights I come home and chill in front of the TV or Netflix.  I just don't have much in the way of friends, which is why I drive to Sioux Falls on a fairly regular basis to see friends from school, or just find random things to do - like Christmas at the Capitol.  Honestly, it's really hard to be single.  I can "offer it up" all I want, or try to see it as part of "suffering for the Kingdom" or whatever, but it still just really stings doing Christmas completely alone.  And it's harder having all my married friends say, "Of course it's sad that you can't see your parents, but you just start your own traditions!"  Well...that's easy to say if you come home from Christmas Eve worship and your wife and kids are there.  Or if the "new tradition" is that you put off opening presents until after Christmas Day worship that Mommy has to preach at.  When your holidays are you, and only you, it's just really, really hard, and I know hardly anyone who understands that.  My "new tradition" is Netflix, Campbell's Chunky Soup, and leftover Christmas cookies - or whatever.  I know a lot of people have it a lot harder than I do - relatives who have died or who live so far away as to be un-travelable-to or such broken relationships that they don't even really want to go home.  And it's true, I'm much better off than that...  But honestly, I'd rather argue about whose family we're going to see for Christmas this year, than be totally alone.  I'm also really struggling with being the pastor and the pastor's wife, but that's for another post...  Pray for me, please, if you're so inclined...

Going to Church: For everyone who has an excuse about why they can't come to church that really boils down to "I just didn't want to put in the effort to get there because it's not that important to me" - one of the ladies in the nursing home here just weaned herself off oxygen so that she could take the senior transit bus to church on Sundays.  I ♥ this. 

On the Other Hand: I'm working on some awesome Christmas cooking/baking projects this year, which I will definitely post pics of when I am done...

Merry Christmas, everyone - remember that the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not, can not, will not overcome it!

A Good Day

So, I realize that some of my recent posts probably sound like I can't stand my family, or I'm not enjoying my time at home getting ready for the wedding, or whatever.  And I feel like I need to clarify.  I don't hate my family.  They are wonderful people, and a great blessing in my life.  Not many people get to have as awesome of a family as I do. 

It's been nice being home and being around everyone, especially since I'm normally so far away from...everything.  It's been fun to help with the finishing touches of wedding planning, and try to keep both my mom and my sister reasonably sane.

It's just getting...long.  And it's been so busy.  Honestly, I thought I would be bored.  Not at all.  There is so much to do.  Granted, some of it is running to places like Target, Hobby Lobby, and the grocery store - usually all three, every day.  It's dress fittings and laundry and organzing closets and doing trial runs of chocolate covered strawberries and and and.  Because, oh yes, someone decided that it would be a good idea to have a freaking garage sale the week before the wedding.  I'm not joking.  My sister signed off on it, mostly I think because she wants to get rid of a bunch of junk before she moves.  Which I guess is fine.  But let none of us think this will be happening at my wedding.  Really, though, I'm having fun, for the most part.  But let's be clear: nothing about this could in any way legitimately be termed a "vacation". 

Nevertheless...

I decided yesterday that the best way to get out of the house for a day, hopefully have a little peace and quiet, and not have to go to Hobby Lobby was to spend the day with my dad.  So I went to work with him - awake at 5:00 am, out the door before 6:00.  Yikes.  Yes, there was coffee involved. 

And since he sees patients all day, there was nothing for me to really do.  Score.  The other PT that works with him was not in today, so I commandeered her office, layed on the exam table, and read.  All.  Day.  Long.  About 11:30 we went to lunch, walked around a little, and then went back to the office.  I took a nap, read some more, and then we came home.  It was glorious.  Glorious, I tell you.

Tonight, Melissa and Joey and Royal Pains.  

Yes, I love the summer.

Update

So graduation turned out to be pretty okay.  I was sitting (mostly) by friends, and it turns out that we're all friends on a day like Graduation Day, so, yeah...

The service was...eh...mostly good.  Between Baccalaureate and Graduation, they managed to put together some decent worship.  My fam was around, so I had dinner with them afterward, and then got up the next morning to open at work. 

Excellent. 

Now I've just got a couple days left until I head home for my sister's wedding.  Eh.  I feel like every support system I have is systematically being stripped away.  In a way I suppose this is good, because it's forcing me to rely on God in ways that I don't know that I've had to before.  People who were my close friends are just sort of...not...anymore.  The friends I have that I'm still close to are so far away, and it sucks not having them around to be with.  By the time I get back from the wedding, another of my friends here on campus will have left to start her new job.  I'm really happy for her - I'm just going to miss her.

And I think that's part of my struggle with going home for this wedding.  I say "going home" because that's where my parents are, but really, Kansas isn't home for me.  I lived there the last three years of high school.  I haven't been there longer than 2 or 3 weeks since I was a college sophomore.  The people that I'm friends with from high school no longer live there, and the high school classmates that still live there I'm no longer friends with.  I'm headed to my parents' house where they are basically the only people I know or care about, to be drowned in the fact that everyone else but me has the one thing I really want.  

I suppose that's covetous or jealous on my part, and I wish it wasn't.  Because I'm trying really hard not to be jealous or bitter, it just hurts so much.  It's like being the last puppy at the pound, or kid at the orphanage.  Everyone else gets picked except you, and not only do you know it's happening, you're actually having to watch it, and what you want more than anything is someone to pick you.  Should I be joyful and content nevertheless?  Probably - I have the "one thing needful", after all.  But what do you do when your heart is so broken it can't break anymore?  How do you be joyful and content then?

I was deep into Psalm 51 last night, because I just have a bad attitude and a bad heart about so many things right now.  Sin, death, and the power of the devil are just so oppressive.  So often when we talk about freeing the victims of oppression, we mean the ones who are being sinned against by other people.  But what we often don't talk about is that those who are doing the sinning - to be trapped in jealousy and covetousness is every bit as oppressive - it's just that you're being oppressed by the devil himself, rather than somebody else.  And that's almost worse.  Maybe. 

It's days like this that I wish (modern) Lutherans hadn't ditched the tradition of private confession and absolution.

Drained

"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls."   ~Matthew 11:28-29

Man, I am just sapped of energy lately.  As I look back over the last several weeks and months, it occurs to me that pretty much since the middle of December, it's just been one gigantic emotional thing after another - whether in my life, or the life of somebody I care about. 

Mid-December - not getting approved, because "I don't know how to articulate the gospel."  Geez, if that doesn't drive a knife right through your heart, I don't know what will.

Late-December - Christmas + New Year's, overall good, but reminding me how separated I feel from my family.

Early-January - Cross-Cultural in SW Minnesota - same thing with the family - wishing I lived closer to them and was more a part of their lives

Mid-January - sister gets engaged - I'm really happy for her, but so, so, so, so, sad that I'm not really there to be part of it.  Also suppressing an acute case of Leah Syndrome.

Late-January - surgery.  Grades from classes at SPS come in.  Comment on my paper: "____ is a huge problem with Luther's position, you should have mentioned it."  I'm sorry, I'm trying, I really am.  But I'm Lutheran, and I don't believe it to be a huge problem with Luther's position, and so I'm not going to say that it is and pretend that I believe something I don't.  Do I get any credit with the prof (or God) for sitting in that class all semester and trying to get there?

Early-February - weird friend things start happening - basically, I miss them all

Mid-February - realize that all of this is creating a giant emotional roller coaster, Lent starts (which terrifies me), all my friends go through assignment, realize that all of my friends will be gone next year, and I will have to start over from scratch, again

Late-February - get rejected by Duke - didn't really expect to get in, but still, it stings

Early-March - find out how bad the cancer is that my uncle's fighting.  Still trying to figure out how to repair my relationship with him.  All of my friends have major emotional junk they are trying to sort through; I hurt because they're hurting.

Mid-March - friend's mom passes away - never met her, but the friend is someone I care about deeply.  Her death was pretty much expected for some time, but I took it harder than I thought I would, partly, I guess, because of how much I know my friend must be hurting, and that makes me sad.

Late-March - I guess that's where we are - get rejected from Marquette.  This one hurts.  A lot.  A lot lot lot.  For some reason, I just thought Marquette was it.  I get along well with the Jesuits, I like the challenge of ecumenical playgrounds, and it seemed like Marquette just suited me - everything about their program.  That letter of intent was the easiest to write, because I didn't feel like I was begging them to take me, I just felt like I was honestly explaining why we "belong together."  I thought it was perfect.  And it's not, and it sucks. 

Of course, there have been good things too.  New friends made, and old friendships revived.  Relationships strengthened by working through tough times, a good "spring break weekend" with the fam, getting accepted by TST (albeit w/ no money), writing an amazing Holy Spirit paper (for an amazing Holy Spirit class), laughing at hideously inappropriate things, gentle spring rains, a fun New Year's, a fantastic Ash Wednesday (that, strangely enough, had the effect of taking away all my fear of Lent), getting a great MOH dress, friends visiting me here, super supportive profs and supervisors, fun times (what?) on Cross-Cultural, and more. 

But it just feels like the last few months I've really been through the wringer, and every time I manage to pick myself back up again, something else comes along - whether it's specifically about me, or having to do with people I really care about.  It's leaving me absolutely exhausted, and I just need a place and time to rest, really rest.  I want a full night's sleep, for once.  I want to not hurt, and I want everybody I care about to not hurt.  I want somebody to rub my back and hold my hand and tell me that I don't have to do it all on my own.  I want to know what's going to happen to me six months from now - hell, six days from now.  I want it to be Easter so I can drink coffee again.  I want something to happen that will inject some energy into me, instead of constantly draining it from me. 

Geez.  I'm such a writer.  Even just writing all this makes me feel (a little) better.

The Age to Come

Yeah.  I'm pinning my hopes on Christ, in the age to come, because I gotta tell you, there's a lot about the current age that I don't like.  Like death.  A good friend's mom passed away recently, and to be perfectly honest, the whole thing just sucks.  I don't like that people die, and leave grieving loved ones behind.  I don't like that it leaves kids without mothers and husbands without wives and the world with fewer good people to help make it a better place.  These are the times where I'm just completely, 100% ready for God to fix it already.

Road Trip + 5K

Although the road trip brought back lots of memories, and made me realize a lot of things about myself, it also encouraged me to, how do I put this?, move forward.  I realized that while I'd been nurturing my dreams, I'd been doing so rather passively, and kind of living in the past.  Not totally, but living in a past rendition of those dreams.  Enough of the "variables" in those dreams are changing now, that in some ways, the dreams have to change and grow and develop.  Not that they are "wrong" at their core, but just that...well, I'm not the same person I was when I graduated from college. 

In line with my New Year's Resolution to "do things", I'm taking more responsibility for making those dreams come true, instead of just expecting them to happen to me.  I'm working on becoming "me", and learning to feel good about that.  Not in a self-centered, the-world-revolves-around-me, don't-feel-any-responsibility-for-my-fellow-man kind of way.  Just in a healthy, self-confident, God made me and delights in me and so I should delight in me, kind of way.

This is going to sound really strange, but I have this tshirt that I've had since college.  I've worn it to bed (only) in kind of an on-again, off-again sort of way.  Different periods of my life since college, you know.  It's a comforting shirt, because it's nostalgic.  But it carries with it a lot of emotional and political baggage, and even a little heartbreak.  I've kept it in circulation out of a sense of...missing the past, dreaming that I could undo or redo certain parts of my life, a kind of safety in knowing who I am and what my life is.  But somewhere along the way, I changed.  Not entirely - my heart and my dreams and my desires are still the same.  But I've moved on into new things, a new person, a new life.  And so the tshirt is going in the box every girl has of tshirts and greeting cards and pictures that will always make me smile, but that aren't a part of my life anymore. 

In its place is going the tshirt I got from doing the 5K.  It's a very tangible way of reminding myself that I'm moving forward and reaching for new dreams, that I'm going to be confident in myself and who I am and what I can do.  It's a little sad, but it's good.  It's all good.

You're Supposed to Ask

She didn't even ask if I had any questions...

My close friends know that for years (since college), I've been suffering from undiagnosed, vague, ill-defined but very intensely-experienced medical problems of a, um, girlish nature.  There's all sorts of details and qualifications that sort of come and go, but the bottom line is: PAIN, basically 3 weeks a month.  In the past, I've pretty much just tolerated it, or self-medicated with Tylenol and Motrin.  For a brief time in college, a doc prescribed Vioxx for me, which I absolutely loved, but shortly thereafter it was recalled and permanently pulled from the shelves.  Since then, I've had several doctors whose approach to my problems were one of the three things: 1) Yes, well, these things happen.  2) Well, all the tests are negative, here, have some birth control pills.  3) It's probably some intestinal bug, go home and rest.

In September, I had an appointment with a new doctor when I moved out here for internship.  She came highly recommended (from the local pro-life pregnancy center, who I asked because I wanted someone awesome, not someone who would just blow me off again.), and she is amazing.  A very faithful Catholic woman with three kids of her own, she listens well, and genuinely wants to figure out what's going on and help me feel better.  In the last few weeks, we've redone all the ultrasounds and lab work, rehashed all the history, and still come up empty.  She's a primary care doc, and so today she referred me to a GYN (appointments being scheduled 2 months out!).  And she suggested that until then, I take birth control, just so that we can see what happens, and add another data point to the mystery.  If it helps, that tells us something; if it doesn't, that tells us something too. 

I wasn't thrilled with the suggestion, but scientifically, I understand the point.  She asked what I thought, and I told her that although I've never taken birth control at all, I was willing to take a leap of faith.  I've never really needed to, either from a therapeutic or contraceptive perspective, and then sometime over the course of the last few years, almost without even realizing it, my moral, philosophical, and theological take has shifted, and I've become wholly opposed to artificial birth control as a matter of principle.  I explained that, which of course she understood, and asked again if I was okay with it.  I told her I was, and she wrote the prescription.  I've taken plenty of medication in my life; this is no different than anything else, right?

It wasn't until later in the day that I was able to get to the pharmacy to pick it up.  Waiting in line, all of a sudden I started to hate the whole thing - myself, the drugs, the incompetent woman manning the register, the world.  I hate myself for doing something I'm morally opposed to.  I hate the drugs because (I don't know where I got this idea, and objectively, I understand that it's wrong) I'm convinced that taking them is going to prevent me from ever having children.  I hated the lady because she didn't even ask if I had any questions about the medication.  You're supposed to ask.  She just handed them over to me in a plain white paper bag, like she probably does a hundred times a day, probably assuming that I've been taking this medication for 15 years.  I wanted to sit down right there on the floor and start crying, and tell her that I want to have babies, but I'm sick, that there's something wrong with my body and I'm not taking this because I want sex-without-consequences.  I hated the world because this is what we've come to, that to take artificial birth control is "normal" and to be 29 years old and never have taken it is "abnormal," and what the hell kind of world is that? 

I've come to the conviction, lately, that the advent of The Pill is pretty much what accounts for most of the downfall of Western civilization.  That the separation of sex from babies has devalued sex, and babies, and men, and women, and relationships, and parenthood, and childhood, and humans in general.  I just didn't realize how strongly I felt about it until I had this stupid white bag, crammed down deep in my purse, so I could try to forget about it.  This isn't who I am.  Ever since I've come this moral conclusion, I've been proud of myself for resisting attempts to just treat my symptoms by stocking my body with synthetic hormones.  Even though I know it's a positive step to try to figure out what's going on, it feels like a step backward in my dreams; what I want is babies, and right now, even if Prince Charming showed up at my door tonight and we flew to Vegas and eloped, I couldn't have them.

Which isn't technically true, I suppose.  I have to wait another two weeks to start taking them.  But I'm scared that I'll never have babies, I'm scared that there's something really wrong with me, I'm scared that this is morally wrong and I'm just going along with it, I'm scared that I'm going to get fat, I'm scared that I'm going to become a crazy hormonal nutjob, I'm scared that there will be a big scarlet BC on my forehead and everyone I meet will know that I take birth control and assume that I'm just out there having sex with every random guy I meet at a bar.  I'm scared that I will go through all this work and money and time and stress to figure out what's wrong with me, and in the end, it won't matter because we'll never really figure it out, and there won't be anyone to care, anyway. 



She didn't even ask if I had any questions. 

You're supposed to ask.

Back Into the Swing of Things

Man, I've been feeling the need to write - I haven't for a while, and I miss it.  I've got a couple posts that are half-done (half-baked?), but I need to get back in the "mood," so I'm going to start with something easy. 

Top Ten Awesome Things In My Life Right Now:

1. Gorgeous weather
2. Iced coffee
3. Hallmark Channel movies
4. The commentary on Genesis I'm reading
5. The fact that I get to sleep in my own bed every night this week
6. God loves me.
7. I rocked the last practice GRE practice analogies section I did
8. Coconut Mocha Frappuccinos
9. That I'm rediscovering how much I love writing
10. Learning to be honest with myself about my gifts, goals, talents, passions, dreams, and desires.

New Year's Resolution, February Edition

So last month, I wrote that I had made a few New Year's Resolutions, one of which was to, basically, start doing the things that people who have a life do.  To stop putting my life on hold, just because it's not the life I thought I would have. 

Alison recently wrote a post wherein she stated that "life doesn't come with odometers."  It wasn't really about this topic, but it was a great turn of phrase, and in my mind, brought with it a very interesting perspective.  An odometer does several things - it tells us how far we've traveled how much longer until we get where we're going, and it tracks certain expected maintenance tasks - refueling, changing the oil, replacing the timing belt and tires, etc...

I was thinking about how this applies to life: I think that we (ok, well, me anyway) tend to view birthdays as miles on an odometer, with all the attendant expectations.  College.  At 18.  Graduate school at 22. Good job at 25.  Married at 26.  Kid at 28.  Second kid at 30.  And while some of that is perhaps changing a bit, as average age of first marriage goes up, I think that general narrative still exists in many of our minds.  I think I sometimes view life as, "Hey, I forgot to fuel up at 25.  I'm getting on toward 30, and not seeing anywhere to get a new timing belt.  Etc..." But it occured to me today, as Alison said, that "life has no odometer." 

Life is just life.  And even though everybody tells you that you need to change the oil every 3000 miles, the reality is that if you use Mobil One, you can wait 7500 miles.  And I always use Mobil One.  :-)

So cheers to that! And on to the February edition of my New Year's Resolution...

Deal Me Another Hand, Skippy

So, here we go again.  I don't want to harp on this, but - oh, who am I kidding?  I do want to harp on this.  We - the ELCA - all three "expressions" are complicit in the murder of children and the emotional slaughter of women.  I do not understand how anyone thinks support for and/or encouragment of and/or acceptance of abortion is in any way witnessing to the hope and new life found in Christ. 

It is particularly frustrating because we are so consistently anti-war and anti-death penalty.  As we (basically) should be.  No one likes war, and although I don't believe pacifism to be a viable national security strategy, I do think that a very thorough moral analysis regarding use of force in international relations is called for.  Neither do I believe that the death penalty is inherently immoral and that it should be automatically classified as "cruel and unusual punishment."  However, I personally have come to oppose the death penalty, as a Christian, because I believe it denies that Christ has the ability to redeem anything and anyone. 

(Those of you who wish to yell at me about mixing the "two kingdoms" can keep it to yourself right now.)

Given all that (and that our "expressions," particularly the national one, pride themselves on being antiwar and anti-death penalty), I don't see what's so hard about abortion.  Is the thing here that we have simply abdicated all substantive teaching authority?  Or that we don't believe in authority at all?  I heard an ELCA pastor say today that, "We as a church have decided that how you feel about abortion doesn't matter." 

Well damn it, it should matter. 

Heartlander points out in this post that

William Wilberforce was only able to get the slave trade abolished in England when he started showing people the insides of the actual slave ships.

An excellent point. Desperate times call for desperate measures. So I give you the picture that she posted, one that is not overly graphic, but is in fact accurate. This is what abortion is:

Ok, yes, this is what a 2nd or 3rd trimester abortion looks like.  A first trimester abortion is much different. 



It looks like this:
 



But if those are a little difficult to process, perhaps the tried and true "saline method" is more palatable to the faint of heart:
  

In a saline abortion procedure, the abortionist injects a long needle through the wall of the uterus and removes the amniotic fluid which provides a safe and nutritious environment for the developing child. It is replaced with a hypertonic saline (salt) solution which is toxic to the unborn child. The baby swallows the salt and is poisoned. Within one to one-and-one-half hours, the baby’s heart stops beating. The corrosive effect of the salt solution often burns and strips away the outer layer of the baby’s skin. The mother soon delivers a burned, shriveled and dead baby.



I feel like I'm starting to turn into one of those "crunchy cons" who makes lots of arguments about certain things being "natural," but here's the deal:  None of these procedures are in any "natural."  When a woman becomes pregnant, her body goes into full-on Mommy Mode, and does everything it can to protect and nourish the baby.  In addition to the creation of amniotic fluid (see above), the cervix positively hangs up a "do not enter" sign:

According to Dr. Nardone, the cervix is the structure that is intended to protect the fetus during its development. It is designed to remain firmly closed and provide resistance to pressure from the growing structures above it (e.g., the fetus and uterus).

The first two procedures detailed above literally involve taking big long sticks and inserting them into the cervix to force it open in order to force baby out.  I can barely handle going to the doctor's office once a year - letting someone forcibly rip my cervix open does not sound safe, healthy, or pleasant.  Abortion is supposed to be pro-woman?  Are you kidding me? 

I still cannot believe that this is even a serious question among supposedly serious Christians.  For all of you pro-choice pastors who have been charged with the shepherding of your flock: can you look at any of those pictures above and honestly tell me that recommending - or even remaining "respectfully neutral" towards - any of them actually fulfills that charge?

What I Am Not Saying: I am not attempting, in any way, to argue that anyone who has had an abortion is disqualified from being a Christian.  I not attempting, in any way, to question the faith or salvation of Christians who are pro-abortion. I am not attempting, in any way, to suggest that unplanned or otherwise difficult pregnancies are not really tough cases that require a ridiculous amount of pastoral care, support, and sensitivity. 

What I Am Saying: As Christian leaders, teachers, pastors, and lay people, we have to be better than this.  We need to so unequivocally love Jesus, moms, dads, and babies, that we can't but help witness to the fact that each and every human being is created in the image and likeness of God, and is loved and valued by Him, and by us.  Period.

Cards On The Table

Ok, I'm just going to come right out and say it: It's unclear to me how anyone "honored by the name of Christian" can be "pro-choice" in any scenario other than the most extreme situations.  (e.g., ectopic pregnancies, other circumstances where the mother's actual, physical life would be at stake if the child were carried to viability, etc...)

When I look at the appalling failure of mainstream Protestantism to speak clearly and decisively on the issue of abortion, it makes me physically ill.  As Christians, we should be the first ones to the table, the loudest ones, the ones with the most endurance, the most strength, the most love. 

"I come that they may have life, and have it abundantly."  ~John 10:10

Everyone, even the most ardent pro-aborts out there, in their most honest moments, knows that terminating a pregnancy is terminating a life.  Scientifically, there really is no question about this.  Individuals can debate the ethics all over the place of when it is or is not morally permissable to terminate a life in the womb - never, only before a heartbeat develops, only before brainwaves develop, only before pain is felt, only before quickening, only before viability, only before ability to reason develops - but the point is, terminating a pregnancy is terminating a life.

As Christians, as followers of, disciples of, witnesses to the One who comes so that they - we - all of us - may have life and have it abundantly, we must be extraordinarily careful, and extraordinarily justified, in situations that require the termination of life.  This is the premise behind the development of Augustine's Just War Theory, it is the premise behind Christian opposition to the death penalty, and it ought to be the premise behind all Christian opposition to abortion. 

But opposition to abortion isn't just about preserving the physical life of a baby.  Look at the second half of the verse from John: I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.  This is the part for moms.  It is the part for husbands and boyfriends and grandparents and friends and teachers and employers and, sad to say, clergy.  It is what Christians need to claim, promote, tell, remind, point out over and over and over again: whatever your problems are right now, whatever they might be in the future, whatever relationships will be strained or plans will have to be put on hold or inconveniences will have to be suffered because of this pregnancy, killing a child does not, in fact, improve the situation.  It may appear to right now, but at best, it is a Pyrrhic victory, because active participation in murder, or being complicit therein, will not lead to abundant life. 

As Christians, we need to say to moms, dads, and anyone else involved: "God desires life - abundant life - for your baby, and for you.  In Christ, and with the help of His followers, there is no problem that cannot be overcome, no relationship that cannot be repaired, no situation that cannot be redeemed.  Life may look bleak now, but it is often precisely in the darkest places that God shows up at His biggest and best."

And the reason we have to say this, loudly and clearly, over and over and over again, and honestly and sincerely mean it, every single time, is because it is true, and because for far too long, we haven't.  For far too long pro-abortion Christians have said (in effect), "Well, if you think there's no hope, then just do what you think is best.  We're behind you all the way."  And for far too long, pro-life Christians have said (in effect), "Whatever you do, don't kill that baby.  As for everything else, well, God be with you.  It'll all work out in the end!"  Neither is acceptable.

I firmly believe that the vast majority of women who have abortions do not, in their hearts of hearts, wish to do so.  I volunteered as a counselor for several years at a crisis pregnancy center and talked to plenty of women who were considering abortion.  Not one of them ever said to me, "I want to kill this child."  I heard plenty of, "I just want the whole thing to go away," "I don't know how I'm going to tell my parents," "My boyfriend is going to freak out," "I'll never be able to finish school," and so on.  It is my contention that most women who have abortions do so because they do not see any other solution to the specific problems that face them today.  I believe that most women considering abortion, if they were aware of and trusted financial, emotional, and other resources, would choose to carry the pregnancy to term and either parent or place for adoption.

As Christians, knowing that God desires abundant life for baby and mom, we have to be the first ones to back up those claims with concrete action.  That means that we have to visibly care for and love moms like crazy, starting at the most basic level and working our way up.  That means that if we have to sit with a newly-pregnant, scared-to-death mom, and hold her hand or give her a hug while she cries for a minute, or an hour, or a day then we do that.  And then we ask: Who do you need to tell?  Parents?  Boyfriend?  Husband?  What is going to happen when you tell them?  Will you be safe?  Do you need someone to come with you?  Do you have a safe place to live while you are pregnant?  After the baby is born?  How will you get to school?  Do you need a job?  Do you have a doctor?  Do you have health insurance?  Do you need: maternity clothes?  baby clothes?  other assorted baby "stuff"?  parenting classes?  a safe and supportive church environment? And on and on and on.

This is the latter part of the Good Samaritan story.  As Christians, we are not allowed to walk by on the other side of the road.  Nor are we allowed to look at the broken and bleeding man and announce that, "Man, crime has gotten really bad around here lately.  Where's the Roman Senate when you need them?  They oughta take action!" 

No.  No.  Jesus came that we may have life, and have it abundantly.  It is our job, as Christians, to live as though that is actually true - in what we say, in the causes we support, in how we ourselves live, and in how we treat others.  It is time for us to get it together.

Tales of a Country Parson, Vol. VI

I've been thinking a lot about death lately, since there's been so much of it around my part of the world.  I myself have conducted 4 funerals in the not-even-three months that I've been here, and there have been 2 others that have taken place in my church building but that I wasn't responsible for leading/preaching.  There were another 4 or 5 over the summer, too, before I got here.  Part of what has made these deaths so hard is that they haven't all been the 90-year-old grandma who's been in the nursing home for 10 years and finally dies peacefully.  No, a lot of them have been younger people dying of cancer or other freak things, and that's harder on people too. 

Frankly, I'm getting sick of it, and so is my congregation.  Last week as I was chewing over the "end-of-the-world" texts in the lectionary, and trying to put together a sermon, it suddenly hit me.  So, so many people in my congregation had been saying to me all week, "There have been way too many funerals lately," or something along those lines.  And on Thursday morning, I made the decision to throw out the lectionary texts and go all-in on what this community is going through - so I preached on Isaiah 40, Galatians 6, and Matthew 11.

I'm fairly certain that I just replicated the 2nd Sunday of Advent in doing that, but oh well, I'll cross that bridge when I come to it, I guess.  That and the Sunday School kid who was reading the lessons was not at all pleased that he got stuck with like 20 verses out of Isaiah and another 10 from Galatians, and I read 2 whole verses in Matthew...  :-)

Nonetheless, I think it was the right decision.  It feels to me like preaching on that, like saying, "let's take a moment here and deal with the real crap of life instead of just blindly doing what the Revised Common Lectionary tells us to do" really was a sign to the community that "I'm here, and I get what you're going through, and I'm part of it."  Even just right after the service, it seemed like everyone was kind of breathing a sigh of relief, knowing that the fed-up-with-ness of death around here was out in the open.  Hugs were a little longer, handshakes were a little firmer, smiles were a little more sincere.  And as I said to a friend, it felt good to actually have something pastoral to contribute to the general atmosphere around here. 

Sermon after the jump:

A Model of Domesticity

This past weekend was awesome.  A good friend of mine from school drove out to the sticks to visit me, and we had a great time.  We cooked, and read, and hung out, and watched TV, and I wrote my sermon, and we went to the "big city" for dinner and a movie. 

Part of what I loved, though, was the getting-ready for her to come.  On Friday morning (what the heck happened to my week?), I got up and got going.  I did several loads of laundry, cleaned pretty much the whole house, vacuumed, made guacamole, put clean dishes away, took out the garbage, sorted through some mail, etc...

And it felt great.  For a while I was on the phone with my BFF from high school, talking through a rather strange situation I'm in.  But it felt so natural, just cleaning and organizing and making my home look bee-yoo-tif-full, talking about guys and kids and recipes and judge-y mothers who make their own challah bread every week.  It felt natural - in my element, if you will.

I have thought - for a long time - that I could be quite happy staying home with a bunch of kiddos and doing some freelance writing.  Maybe teaching part-time or something. 

Bring on the menfolk and the babies, that's what I have to say.