So Greek has been going well. It's a lot of stuff to remember, but it's fine, really. "It's good": "Esti agathos kai eimi kalos." (". . .And I am beautiful." I'm practicing my adjectives and my conjugation of the verb "to be," if you'll forgive me). :D
Last night I took advantage of my NEW YWCA membership (Gettysburg students pay $10 a year for it!) to attend a cardio-kick class, which translates to kickboxing moves in a cardio workout setting. I gotta tell ya, it kicked my ass. Probably in a good way, considering that that ass needs to get in shape. :) It's up in the air whether or not I'll try that one again, but definitely looking forward to using the Y for swimming, even weight training maybe. When I get through a couple of months of that, I'll be able to bench-press Sam at Christmas.
Speaking of which, I talked to Sam and Lauren yesterday—the latter on the phone! She's in Glasgow, and anxious to get back to ministerial work. No message yet back from Mary upon her arrival home in Sweden, and Sam's engaging in metrosexual cooking for his mum on his family pig farm. Moses is probably downing shots of screech and kissing puffin's arses in Newfoundland.
Ah, eclectic friends. What would I do without them? :)
A lot of my friends seem to be delayed in getting their first call in a congregation, like Ryan, who's a Wartburg grad, and Mark, who's a Gettysburg grad. I can only imagine how frustrating that would be! But at least they know that they're in good hands in terms of eventually finding a position in a congregation, especially because of the pastoral shortage in the ELCA that we hear so much about.
I'm doing alright with meeting new peeps here too. David across the hall is good to hang and watch movies with, and I'm learning tons about marching bands and USC from Katie, who's upstairs.
Well, nearly time for chapel. It's interesting, only going to worship once a day instead of twice. Ooh, and tonight on Iona is the "service of commitment" with a "symbolic action." I'll just imagine myself lighting a candle or some such thing and pretend I'm there.
In the meanwhile, I'm actually geographically here, and actually doing fine. A miracle in itself, I think.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Some questions for you, God
Well, here I am again, settled in at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Gettysburg, and not surprisingly, I find myself retaining traces of those old fears. All these things: field education time in congregations, heavy-duty classes, more advanced students, a lack of an emotional connection with anyone here . . . it all makes me feel intimidated and small. And I’m not even at a big-league school here like Yale or Harvard! Just little old Gettysburg.
I met with my advisor this morning, and he was helping me try to work out when I’d fit in this Field Ed thing, Teaching Parish, another year, and whether it’d mean that I’d need to stay on for an extra semester or year. I can’t believe that my lack of communication with my candidacy committee could end up costing me something like $8,000+ in extra tuition and fees. I feel kinda stupid right about now.
Why are you downcast, O my soul? Did you not lead worship a few times on Iona, and assist and preach at your home congregation and receive nothing but warm support and enthusiasm? Do you not have good friends who would do anything if they could to help you on your way? Is not God your faithful companion and guide, helping you fill out even the most confusing financial forms and holding your hand as you move past that with which you are familiar?
What’ll I do when the tide takes me
Further out to sea than I care to be?
Go a little further where the shade is not
Go a little further, you might find your heart
Time will do its own thing anyway
The trick is not to get lost in the day to day
Find your way, come feel your way
People act strange and they mislead the way
’Cause only when you turn around you see you’ve strayed
So open up your arms and I will carry you
When things are too hard to comprehend in full
God, help me not to hide anymore. Help me to go forth and lay structures in place for a future of courage, because exiting this dorm room and going to face paperwork and general scrutiny seems to me as difficult as riding a charger into fierce battle. I know I am at war with something, perhaps my weaker self. All I know is that I have to make myself, inch by torturous inch, go out and act confident as I go through the motions of a scheme I’m not sure I want my life to resemble.
Why always so much uncertainty? I miss the sureness of mopping a floor, cleaning a toilet, everyday liturgical responses. My life there was liturgy; the fellowship there was sacrament. My God, my God, where is the sacred here in a small-town community in Pennsylvania, where I feel so out of touch with everyone and everything that is not happening?
I met with my advisor this morning, and he was helping me try to work out when I’d fit in this Field Ed thing, Teaching Parish, another year, and whether it’d mean that I’d need to stay on for an extra semester or year. I can’t believe that my lack of communication with my candidacy committee could end up costing me something like $8,000+ in extra tuition and fees. I feel kinda stupid right about now.
Why are you downcast, O my soul? Did you not lead worship a few times on Iona, and assist and preach at your home congregation and receive nothing but warm support and enthusiasm? Do you not have good friends who would do anything if they could to help you on your way? Is not God your faithful companion and guide, helping you fill out even the most confusing financial forms and holding your hand as you move past that with which you are familiar?
What’ll I do when the tide takes me
Further out to sea than I care to be?
Go a little further where the shade is not
Go a little further, you might find your heart
Time will do its own thing anyway
The trick is not to get lost in the day to day
Find your way, come feel your way
People act strange and they mislead the way
’Cause only when you turn around you see you’ve strayed
So open up your arms and I will carry you
When things are too hard to comprehend in full
God, help me not to hide anymore. Help me to go forth and lay structures in place for a future of courage, because exiting this dorm room and going to face paperwork and general scrutiny seems to me as difficult as riding a charger into fierce battle. I know I am at war with something, perhaps my weaker self. All I know is that I have to make myself, inch by torturous inch, go out and act confident as I go through the motions of a scheme I’m not sure I want my life to resemble.
Why always so much uncertainty? I miss the sureness of mopping a floor, cleaning a toilet, everyday liturgical responses. My life there was liturgy; the fellowship there was sacrament. My God, my God, where is the sacred here in a small-town community in Pennsylvania, where I feel so out of touch with everyone and everything that is not happening?
Sunday, August 13, 2006
A Milestone and Other Markers
Today I delivered my first sermon.
Sounds amazing to say that. Probably as recently as a few months ago that idea would have set me shivering with nervousness, but. . .well, like so many new things I do these days, Iona helped change that. I know deep within me now that I am loved and supported and thus that the big steps that I take are cheered on by that great cloud of witnesses in the church. As I prepared, I felt the hope and affirmation from people like Simon, Gillian, Lotte, Lauren, Moses, Sam, Mary, Hannah, Philippa, Mary III, my parents, my grandparents, and old seminary and college friends like Beth and Johanna and Bree coursing through me. . .how, with that sheer volume of positive energy, can one not feel more confident?
People liked the sermon. I'm pleasantly surprised by that. Based on how things were going last night in writing it, I thought it'd turn out bland and flat and garden-variety. Now. . .now I can better see myself in that role as a pastor, though I'm still frightened of getting boxed in to a confined space (geographically, mostly) in a small country parish and not exploring the world, learning loads of different things. I do love small country parishes, though. Maybe one of these days I'll have "settled down" and will really want those roots.
Last night was pretty rough. I was kind of disappointed with myself anyway for ending up going to bed with not everything written for today, and ended up listening to Simon's band, Icarus (for about the millionth time in a week and a half) and feeling fairly lonely. I think that I subconsciously protected myself emotionally as I traveled from Britain and in the first few days home by only feeling "comfortable" pain. Yes, there was intense sadness at missing everyone and life on Iona. Yes, much anguish and anxiousness. Last night, however, something welled up within me that--for the first time in months--resembled something like despair. (About complicated things that, bottom line, involve my own sense of self-worth). Well, I know better these days than to let something like that fester, so I immediately reached out for a lifeline: Mary. I emailed her asking for her to help me in any way she could, whether it would be to send a message back or to just think about me. (Ever get the feeling that even if someone's not particularly praying to God on your behalf, just them letting you know that they're thinking about you and your welfare really helps too?)
I received a reply when I checked my email this morning, and I felt so grateful to see that Mary understood my plea. . .she even said that if I'd only lived five hours or so away she would have gotten on the first bus to come see me, and that she'd try and give me a call when she had a chance. I just appreciate her understanding that I needed some support.
Since arriving back home, I've worried a bit that my Iona friends will see me as needy. I don't know if I am, honestly. I think of myself these days as a fairly self-sufficient person who happens to know that she needs God working through significant loving relationships in order to really live. Isolated, I am an empty, meaningless shell. Buoyed up by friends and family and community in general, I am vivacious and truly myself. I don't think I'm clingy or desperate. I think I just know what I need. I pray that the people I am most close to understand this. . .and I think they must, for they know me pretty deeply.
Well, on a lighter note. . . I helped to watch my cousins Ben and Ava today (9 and 5 years old). Yes, it's all fun and games, swimming and ice cream, laughter and board games, until somebody has an "accident." In that case, skills as a housekeeper come in handy! :)
Now that I've figured out how to use the bottle opener to extricate the cap from my leftover-from-the-picnic Newcastle Brown Ale, I think I'll slowly retire to my inner sanctum and prepare for a day of mad packing/organising.
Sounds amazing to say that. Probably as recently as a few months ago that idea would have set me shivering with nervousness, but. . .well, like so many new things I do these days, Iona helped change that. I know deep within me now that I am loved and supported and thus that the big steps that I take are cheered on by that great cloud of witnesses in the church. As I prepared, I felt the hope and affirmation from people like Simon, Gillian, Lotte, Lauren, Moses, Sam, Mary, Hannah, Philippa, Mary III, my parents, my grandparents, and old seminary and college friends like Beth and Johanna and Bree coursing through me. . .how, with that sheer volume of positive energy, can one not feel more confident?
People liked the sermon. I'm pleasantly surprised by that. Based on how things were going last night in writing it, I thought it'd turn out bland and flat and garden-variety. Now. . .now I can better see myself in that role as a pastor, though I'm still frightened of getting boxed in to a confined space (geographically, mostly) in a small country parish and not exploring the world, learning loads of different things. I do love small country parishes, though. Maybe one of these days I'll have "settled down" and will really want those roots.
Last night was pretty rough. I was kind of disappointed with myself anyway for ending up going to bed with not everything written for today, and ended up listening to Simon's band, Icarus (for about the millionth time in a week and a half) and feeling fairly lonely. I think that I subconsciously protected myself emotionally as I traveled from Britain and in the first few days home by only feeling "comfortable" pain. Yes, there was intense sadness at missing everyone and life on Iona. Yes, much anguish and anxiousness. Last night, however, something welled up within me that--for the first time in months--resembled something like despair. (About complicated things that, bottom line, involve my own sense of self-worth). Well, I know better these days than to let something like that fester, so I immediately reached out for a lifeline: Mary. I emailed her asking for her to help me in any way she could, whether it would be to send a message back or to just think about me. (Ever get the feeling that even if someone's not particularly praying to God on your behalf, just them letting you know that they're thinking about you and your welfare really helps too?)
I received a reply when I checked my email this morning, and I felt so grateful to see that Mary understood my plea. . .she even said that if I'd only lived five hours or so away she would have gotten on the first bus to come see me, and that she'd try and give me a call when she had a chance. I just appreciate her understanding that I needed some support.
Since arriving back home, I've worried a bit that my Iona friends will see me as needy. I don't know if I am, honestly. I think of myself these days as a fairly self-sufficient person who happens to know that she needs God working through significant loving relationships in order to really live. Isolated, I am an empty, meaningless shell. Buoyed up by friends and family and community in general, I am vivacious and truly myself. I don't think I'm clingy or desperate. I think I just know what I need. I pray that the people I am most close to understand this. . .and I think they must, for they know me pretty deeply.
Well, on a lighter note. . . I helped to watch my cousins Ben and Ava today (9 and 5 years old). Yes, it's all fun and games, swimming and ice cream, laughter and board games, until somebody has an "accident." In that case, skills as a housekeeper come in handy! :)
Now that I've figured out how to use the bottle opener to extricate the cap from my leftover-from-the-picnic Newcastle Brown Ale, I think I'll slowly retire to my inner sanctum and prepare for a day of mad packing/organising.
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Whirlwind Return
I am safely home, and here are some highlights of the journey and the week since:
-Hanging out with Simon's friend Travis in Glasgow (fun to learn about filmmaking!)
-Sneakily listening to Verdi's opera "Rigoletto" in Holland Park, London, while I made my own high-culture experience of consuming shandy, stilton and crackers in a private picnic
-Getting showered with love in the form of emails and phone conversations from Iona vollies (love them!)
-Avoiding air-travel security hassles by quite fortuitously leaving a week before new terror concerns; I might've had to go through all sorts of tiring and confusing new plans otherwise (kudos to Scotland Yard on the arrests, though)
-Playing guitar for my congregation ("One Bread, One Body" and "Take, Oh, Take Me As I Am" in English and Gaelic)
-A welcome home picnic with a sheep cake and a slideshow of Iona pics for those attending (and British beer, too!)
-Meeting with my candidacy committee--good to reestablish old ties and meet some current Gettysburg students
-Going through tons of boxes of old junk
-Preparing to give a sermon at Mt. Zion tomorrow- whoa!
My life: both a blessing and a blur.
-Hanging out with Simon's friend Travis in Glasgow (fun to learn about filmmaking!)
-Sneakily listening to Verdi's opera "Rigoletto" in Holland Park, London, while I made my own high-culture experience of consuming shandy, stilton and crackers in a private picnic
-Getting showered with love in the form of emails and phone conversations from Iona vollies (love them!)
-Avoiding air-travel security hassles by quite fortuitously leaving a week before new terror concerns; I might've had to go through all sorts of tiring and confusing new plans otherwise (kudos to Scotland Yard on the arrests, though)
-Playing guitar for my congregation ("One Bread, One Body" and "Take, Oh, Take Me As I Am" in English and Gaelic)
-A welcome home picnic with a sheep cake and a slideshow of Iona pics for those attending (and British beer, too!)
-Meeting with my candidacy committee--good to reestablish old ties and meet some current Gettysburg students
-Going through tons of boxes of old junk
-Preparing to give a sermon at Mt. Zion tomorrow- whoa!
My life: both a blessing and a blur.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Deep Peace
Saturday 29 July
It is well with my soul.
Last night, on Martyrs Bay beach, I reaffirmed my baptismal vows in the presence of God and a few dozen Iona vollies and residents. People loved and were touched by the service—it was a collection of songs, vows, prayers, and symbolic actions (including an invitation for people to collect handfuls of water from the sea and pour it into a glass bowl, from which Richard, the leader, anointed me). So many people have told me how much they enjoyed the service (even loved it) and how much they were honoured by the chance to be present at it. Rosie played clarinet, Simon played guitar, Richard presided, Lauren read Romans 8:31-39, and Sam wrote and said a prayer.
Directly afterwards was Mary III’s creation service, during which I helped sing with her and Mary ("Come Light, Light of God") and an "evening came, morning came" motif)—her service turned out to be brilliant.
Today we welcomed over 200 members for Community Week, and kicked off their time here with a welcoming service, complete with Lauren leading "Igama Le(k)unkosi."
At the end of tonight’s service, Simon sang his "Deep Peace," during which I began to cry (thinking again about leaving, and Simon’s voice is so incredible and emotive). Mary, Sam, Simon, and others hugged me in the cloisters, and the former two held arms around me as we walked down to Cul Shuna to hang out for the night. Later, Sam walked me back to the Mac, and we had a good chat. Mary had said earlier that Sam told her I was one of his best friends here. I can’t believe how incredibly lucky I am to have such fantastic friends, including these two, Lauren, and the recently departed (through the life-giving death that lies in returning home) Moses.
Sam and I agreed: life is strange and wonderful, and it’s a privilege to be living it. And all is well.
It is well with my soul.
Last night, on Martyrs Bay beach, I reaffirmed my baptismal vows in the presence of God and a few dozen Iona vollies and residents. People loved and were touched by the service—it was a collection of songs, vows, prayers, and symbolic actions (including an invitation for people to collect handfuls of water from the sea and pour it into a glass bowl, from which Richard, the leader, anointed me). So many people have told me how much they enjoyed the service (even loved it) and how much they were honoured by the chance to be present at it. Rosie played clarinet, Simon played guitar, Richard presided, Lauren read Romans 8:31-39, and Sam wrote and said a prayer.
Directly afterwards was Mary III’s creation service, during which I helped sing with her and Mary ("Come Light, Light of God") and an "evening came, morning came" motif)—her service turned out to be brilliant.
Today we welcomed over 200 members for Community Week, and kicked off their time here with a welcoming service, complete with Lauren leading "Igama Le(k)unkosi."
At the end of tonight’s service, Simon sang his "Deep Peace," during which I began to cry (thinking again about leaving, and Simon’s voice is so incredible and emotive). Mary, Sam, Simon, and others hugged me in the cloisters, and the former two held arms around me as we walked down to Cul Shuna to hang out for the night. Later, Sam walked me back to the Mac, and we had a good chat. Mary had said earlier that Sam told her I was one of his best friends here. I can’t believe how incredibly lucky I am to have such fantastic friends, including these two, Lauren, and the recently departed (through the life-giving death that lies in returning home) Moses.
Sam and I agreed: life is strange and wonderful, and it’s a privilege to be living it. And all is well.
Day in the life of a vollie
Ever wondered what a typical day is like in the life of an Iona vollie? Well, you're about to see one that's pretty indicative of how I spent most days during 14 weeks on Iona as a housekeeper. Enjoy!
Saturday 22 July
8:00 am- Woke up early: acquired some toast and was marginally sociable in the vollie area.
9:00 am- Morning worship- Jane (a general assistant) led--Gillian played "Morning Has Broken" after the last bit of the liturgy: I sang it while walking through the cloisters to work.
9:30-10:30- Drying room: Ines and I folded sheets, flipped gloves, sang, and talked over boys and big life decisions. Also sang some Michael Jackson songs with Sam as he stocked the nearby shop store room. It's a wonder, actually, that we get so much work done in the midst of so much goofing off.
10:30-11:00- Tea break! After summoning the other vollies ("Kitchen!" "Housekeeping!"), Ines and I prepared tea break and now maybe a dozen of us are sharing tea, coffee, and chocolate cake. Needed this break.
11:00 am- 1:00pm- Tea-break clean-up, lunch set-up, more laundry folding. Ines and I started joking, making up a phrase that goes, "I'm sweating like a monk." In our self-entertaining in-joke, we devised an elaborate scheme to market bottled monk-sweat as though it were holy water, and have it as an alcohol-free communion substitute.
1:00-2:30- Lunch and clean-up. It was a staff lunch at the Abbey (though unfortunately not enough room for the continued Ben tradition of candle-lit meals for two). Sat and chatted with Simon and the two Andrews, then at clean-up bustled about in the jam-packed scullery and servery to get everything washed, dried, and put away.
2:30-2:45- Met with Gillian to practise for tomorrow's worship service--I'm doing the hands again to lead the congregation in singing an African "Hallelujah" and to "Mungu Ni Mwema."
3:00-4:30- Went with Andrew (shop) to the Argyll hotel for a cream tea-- tea, scones with whipped cream and apricot jam. Quite a warm, sunny day.
4:30-5:45- Practised playing guitar and took a cat nap.
6:00-7:30- First dinner with new guests (this was my half-day, so normally I'd be working during this time)--had introductions and staff wash-up afterwards. Listened to Jackson 5 and danced during the last bit to make it more fun.
7:45-8:00-Practise with Gillian for song teaching.
8:00-8:30- Staff choir practise in the music loft. One of my favourite parts of the week—we sing some really good stuff!
8:30-8:50- A casual chat with Paddy and Philippa, two other vollies who are children’s workers. We lay in the grass outside the Abbey and relaxed.
9:00-9:45- Communion service and our staff choir performance. After the service, as we recess into the cloisters, everyone’s singing and dancing together.
9:45-10:00-After-serfice teas in the refectory: a time to chat over a hot beverage and some biscuits (cookies).
10:00-11:30-Fellowship among vollies at Martyrs Bay Restaurant, home of the pub we frequent. Lots of laughter, bad jokes, singing, and storytelling.
11:30-11:40- Walk back to the Mac for bed. Sweet sleep!
Saturday 22 July
8:00 am- Woke up early: acquired some toast and was marginally sociable in the vollie area.
9:00 am- Morning worship- Jane (a general assistant) led--Gillian played "Morning Has Broken" after the last bit of the liturgy: I sang it while walking through the cloisters to work.
9:30-10:30- Drying room: Ines and I folded sheets, flipped gloves, sang, and talked over boys and big life decisions. Also sang some Michael Jackson songs with Sam as he stocked the nearby shop store room. It's a wonder, actually, that we get so much work done in the midst of so much goofing off.
10:30-11:00- Tea break! After summoning the other vollies ("Kitchen!" "Housekeeping!"), Ines and I prepared tea break and now maybe a dozen of us are sharing tea, coffee, and chocolate cake. Needed this break.
11:00 am- 1:00pm- Tea-break clean-up, lunch set-up, more laundry folding. Ines and I started joking, making up a phrase that goes, "I'm sweating like a monk." In our self-entertaining in-joke, we devised an elaborate scheme to market bottled monk-sweat as though it were holy water, and have it as an alcohol-free communion substitute.
1:00-2:30- Lunch and clean-up. It was a staff lunch at the Abbey (though unfortunately not enough room for the continued Ben tradition of candle-lit meals for two). Sat and chatted with Simon and the two Andrews, then at clean-up bustled about in the jam-packed scullery and servery to get everything washed, dried, and put away.
2:30-2:45- Met with Gillian to practise for tomorrow's worship service--I'm doing the hands again to lead the congregation in singing an African "Hallelujah" and to "Mungu Ni Mwema."
3:00-4:30- Went with Andrew (shop) to the Argyll hotel for a cream tea-- tea, scones with whipped cream and apricot jam. Quite a warm, sunny day.
4:30-5:45- Practised playing guitar and took a cat nap.
6:00-7:30- First dinner with new guests (this was my half-day, so normally I'd be working during this time)--had introductions and staff wash-up afterwards. Listened to Jackson 5 and danced during the last bit to make it more fun.
7:45-8:00-Practise with Gillian for song teaching.
8:00-8:30- Staff choir practise in the music loft. One of my favourite parts of the week—we sing some really good stuff!
8:30-8:50- A casual chat with Paddy and Philippa, two other vollies who are children’s workers. We lay in the grass outside the Abbey and relaxed.
9:00-9:45- Communion service and our staff choir performance. After the service, as we recess into the cloisters, everyone’s singing and dancing together.
9:45-10:00-After-serfice teas in the refectory: a time to chat over a hot beverage and some biscuits (cookies).
10:00-11:30-Fellowship among vollies at Martyrs Bay Restaurant, home of the pub we frequent. Lots of laughter, bad jokes, singing, and storytelling.
11:30-11:40- Walk back to the Mac for bed. Sweet sleep!
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