One Wild and Precious Life

Writing

So in the last few months, I've started writing again. I've written since I could read, just about, and done it pretty well, I guess.  In the second grade I wrote a poem that the teacher had me copy and illustrate on big flipchart-size paper, and posted it for the school open house.  In fifth grade I won county and state prizes for another poem I wrote. In high school I was selected to be copy editor of the yearbook; that plan was interrupted by an unplanned pregnancy and wedding (oops!).  After I finished grad school and moved to Buffalo, I picked up writing again, and was publishing and reading poetry locally. I've co-edited and been part of publishing a chapbook anthology and an arts magazine.  After I moved to Tennessee, I joined a literary group there, and published a piece of memoir/essay in the MTSU literary journal, and that piece received a mention in "Best American Essays" for 2012 or 13, I think (can't find the book right now; can't remember the exact year).  So yes, I've written.  I've always kept a journal, blogged for a while, went to the occasional writing workshop, did Julia Cameron's morning pages for years.  But since I moved back to Buffalo in 2014, my creative writing has really languished.

Now 2022 has been the year of getting that piece of my true self back again.  Mostly, I write longhand.  As I sit out here at my table and write, I remember that little girl who spent hours in her room, reading, writing stories, reading them to her friends, writing poems.  I've missed that little girl. And I feel her again when I write.  Here's what I did:

In February, I joined the Hay House Writer's Community. It's a paid subscription, but somehow paying for something keeps me more accoountable.  They offer "tracks," depending on your self-defined level of writing; I started right at the beginning, and it's a very slow, very gentle, step-by-step process to lead you into the process of becoming a writer (again, for me). There are weekly and monthly assignments, and a progression through one track and into the next one.  I'm about to finish up Track One ("Beginning Writer"), and will then move into Track Two ("Aspiring Author").  I've stayed on track for six months now, which is amazing. At their suggestion, I began reading more, some fiction, some memoir, some books by writers, about writing. That helped energize me.  I've come along.  Then I joined a "Scribblers Group" at the old people's residence across the street (independent living for seniors).  That got me writing a couple of actual pieces that I could read to the group. Then I finally joined a community called "Yale Women Writers." They meet online twice a month.  I was afraid it would be only young, brilliant, successful writers, but that's not the case at all.  There are all sorts and levels of writers, from well-published people to "women of a certain age" who are just getting into their writing again -- like me!  And I'm doing morning pages again, and rereading Julia Cameron ("Artist's Way" and "The Right to Write," currently, but I have a whole collection of her books that I intend to revisit).  And obviously, I'm revisiting my blog.  I'm even toying with the idea of putting together my own chapbook -- pieces I'm writing, or have written in the last few years.  This is the first time I've seriously considered publishing my work!

This all makes me very happy.  I've rediscovered an important part of myself.  If anybody's interested, I can post a list of the books I've read over the last few months, as they excite and energize me, and maybe they will do the same for you.

I'm Baaaack!

Can  it really be almost 5 years since I've posted anything here? And my life has changed some.  Of course, we've survived the pandemic (well, most of us have), and have only just begun to process that trauma; yes, it really was a trauma.  Being fearful of a death-dealing virus, being isolated, being separated from so much of what gave meaning to our lives -- that's trauma for sure.  Of course, I didn't realize it when I was living it, just rolled with the punches as they came, did what I needed to do.  But I did ask myself what it really meant to be a priest, when I couldn't lead worship, celebrate the sacraments, make pastoral visits, even keep office hours. I thought I would do tons of reading and writing, but I didn't.  In fact, as my world became smaller, I had less and less to say, and though I kept my journal, it wasn't very full.  What did you do?  I joined the Great Courses Plus (which has now become Wondrium), and for a paid subscription, I traveled the world, studied the plague, and dipped into various and sundry topics.  I joined Amazon Prime, and ordered lots of stuff online. I walked my dog and shouted to porch-sitting neighbors from the sidewalk.  I learned about Zoom, as most of us did, and eventually I could take yoga and other exercise classes via my laptop.  And I spent lots and lots of time down at the trailer by the lake.  I walked the beach, miles a day, and collected enough beach glass to fill two lamp bases, and enough left over to fill two more. I let the lake soothe me.

Probably my biggest project was losing 75 pounds.  No, I didn't gain the "pandemic twenty," as so many of my friends complained.  I joined Noom in February 2020, just before the big lockdown, and actually stuck with it for the 15 months that it took to lose the weight.  Now I weigh about what I did in high school and college, and I feel so much better. No more  chronically "iffy" blood pressure, far fewer aching joints (except the ones arthritis seems to have moved into). I guess it's not for everyone, but I highly recommend it.  It was just right for me, with a coach and little lessons and reminders each day.  Honestly, I never thought I'd see this weight again, which is by no means skinny, but seems healthy for me, and I've formed the habits and mindfulness that I need that has helped me maintain this weight for 14 months now.

I moved again, yes, in November of 2020.  I liked my sunny one-bedroom apartment, but it was just too small.  During my working years, I had become accustomed to living in 3-bedroom houses that were provided by the churches I served, and in 3 years I just got too cramped in a one-bedroom.  I used to gaze out my living room window at the carriage house apartments with little porches, that were right across the parking lot.  When one came vacant, I snagged it!  I moved mostly by myself -- many trips with plastic bins loaded onto a hand truck -- down two flights, across the parking lot, and then up another flight.  But I love this new(er) place, with its two bedrooms, long hallway, and most of all, the little porch!  My study is in the little turret room that opens to the porch; I've always wanted a turret room.  Out here, where I'm writing now, I mounted flower boxes to the wrought iron railings.  I call it my "French chateau."  Ha!  The view could be better: the parking lot, and the back of the building where I used to live.  But I watch the comings and goings of my neighbors, and my little dog has a bed out here, so she joins me, and I can sit in the morning with my coffee and write.

And I have a new little dog!  Well, I've had her for 4 1/2 years now, so I guess she's not new, but new since I last write here.  My darling Clementine went to heaven, and a friend asked me to foster a little 10 pound Bichon puppy-mill rescue.  But I'm a "failed foster," they tell me, as she curled right up in my arms and my heart, and I just couldn't let her go.  Her name is Dori, the name she came to me with.  I wouldn't have picked that name, but I figured she had been through enough in her little life, and didn't need to go through learning a new name, too. She's my dearest friend, and I'm convinced that my dead people sent her to me, to get me through the pandemic. She has only one eye, lost one at the puppy mill.  I'm so grateful they didn't kill her. And she's excellent company.

I still travel.  In 2018 I spent 2 weeks touring in Southern Italy with my friend Cheryl, and this year I celebrated my 70th birthday with a week in Paris.  In November I'm going to Portugal for a week, to a Jungian conference that was scheduled for 2020, then 2021, and now finally it seems like it will happen. I've never been to Portugal, so I'm looking forward to that.

There's more.   But this is enough for now.  I'll be writing more often now, and will include pictures, when I figure out how to transfer them from my phone.  It feels good to be back.

Sermon Time

Wow, it has been such a very long time since I've posted a sermon. I don't write them at all anymore, so we'll see how this goes, just jotting down some random thoughts and notes that I probably said today -- though since I don't even make notes, this will be the first I've written at all about these readings.  For those of you who don't know this, in the Episcopal Church we read (and preach from) readings that are assigned each week; the "assignment list," which rotates the same readings on a 3-year cycle, is called our lectionary.  And this week, the lectionary gave me these:  Exodus 16:2-15 (the Israelites getting manna from heaven) or Jonah 3:10-4:11 (Jonah's final 2 temper tantrums, after God spares Nineveh); Philippians 1:21-30; and for the Gospel, Matthew 20:1-16 (the landowner paying all the workers a full days wage, regardless of whether they worked a full day or only an hour).  I had to address both the Exodus and Jonah from the Old Testament, as I serve 3 different congregations, and one of them used the Exodus, while the other two used Jonah.  But this week that was easier than most, because the theme is the same.  I usually try to incorporate all 3 readings into my preaching; usually there's a theme, and the 3 readings all elaborate that theme on multiple levels.  But today it was mostly Old Testament and Gospel.

I love to preach about Jonah, first of all because the story is so short that I get to tell the whole thing, just to remind people about who Jonah really was.  It's a great chance to show the humor in the story, and let people know that it's okay to laugh at some of these biblical characters.  Jonah is certainly worth a chuckle or two, and I love adding a few dramatic flourishes, like clutching my chest, gazing up to heaven, and saying, "Okay, God, just kill me now!" (Which Jonah actually does say at least a couple of times.) But mostly I love Jonah because God really is patient and gentle and long-suffering in response to Jonah's stubborn self-will and temper tantrums.  Just like I feel like God's really patient and long-suffering with me in my own stubborn willfulness.  And I love Jonah for his whining and complaining and arguing with God; I think God just really wants us to be in relationship with God, and to be honest, even if it's through whining and complaining sometimes.

And for me, the Gospel was also about the laborers who worked all day whining and complaining about their pay, when they got the same as the ones who only worked an hour.  I pointed out the historical context, that Matthew was almost certainly a Jewish Christian, preaching to other Jewish Christians about how it could be that Gentile Christians could be full members of the church, without even being circumcised.  These "newcomers" get the same "pay" (or grace) as the Children of Abraham (who've been in the field all day).

So it's all about whining, and how (we see in Jonah) that it's okay to whine, and that God's response is generally a kindly, patient "It's none of your business" (how God's grace gets dispensed, and it will usually be given abundantly, even in ways that look really unfair to us sometimes).  And for my part, I'm so glad it's okay to whine (because I do so much of it), and that God dispenses mercy and grace abundantly, despite how I can be.

Of course I didn't mention all those times when God also seemed to get fed up and struck people dead.

Fall, Again

Nearly a year since my last entry!  My dental hygienist once said, "If you'd get your teeth cleaned every one year, rather than every three years, you'd be a lot better off!"  (I do that now, I assure you.). It's the same with blogging: if I'd blog every one week, rather than every 48, I'd also be a lot better off, too.  So I'll give it another shot.  Here we go!

This will just be a catch-up on my life, but I promise to post something of substance next time.  I've moved.  Living with my best friend was meant to be a short-term situation that turned into something a little more than short-term (nearly 3 years!), but the time came when I needed to have a space of my own, with more of my own things and my own energy around me.  I've been able to unpack boxes that were packed in 2014 in Tennessee; seeing my own things is like being reunited with old friends that I've missed.  There's the sweet little oak dining room table that has been with me since 1973, and the pitcher my mother bought for me in Gatlinburg, Tennessee when I was in my 20s, and so much more.  My things have way too many stories attached to them, which makes it really hard to be without them, or to let them go .  Cheryl and I are still best friends, of course -- we both agreed that my move was fully due.

So this summer was one for settling into my new digs and catching up on health care, which involved four (count 'em, four) different doctors, a battery of various tests, and waiting anxiously for results.  Health care in Buffalo sure has changed since I last saw a doctor here 15 years ago: now my entire chart is online, including test results and various scans,and I can access everything.  Amazing.  But all the rigamarole makes me feel trapped in the maw of the medical monster.  I guess it comes with aging.  However, as a result of the settling in and the doctoring, I didn't get out to the trailer by the lake one single time. Not once! I couldn't face the repairs that I know need to be made, the appliances I know need to be replaced, the work that needs to be scheduled and paid for, because I can't do any of it myself.  But tomorrow Cheryl and I are going! So I'm excited about that. The weather has been so summery and hot, clear through September (except for one short cool spell), that we're even planning to go to the beach.  I can't wait.

Aside from that, I continue with my part time work, my thrice-weekly yoga, and my sobriety. I've been off, then on again, my food program, and my weight is back on the way down.  I had 2 bicycles stolen in 4 days in my new neighborhood (including my dear French 5-speed, which I'm still grieving), and now keep my third bike of the summer inside the building.  Sigh.  Last week I broke my desktop computer, so all my work now gets done on my dear iPad, with a Bluetooth keyboard. Not sure what I'll do when it's time to print something, but I'm sure I'll figure something out.

Well, that's enough for now. I'll be adding my blog address to my email signature again, so who knows? I might get a few visitors.

Fall

It's another gloomy day in a gloomy fall week, and my mood tends toward the melancholy, though not necessarily in an unpleasant way.  I gaze out my study window to my rain-slick back porch, where I spent many a hot, sunny summer's day, and grilled many a delicious summer dinner this year.  Some of the plants are looking a little wither-y, though the marigolds still speak in tones of yellow and orange, and the trumpet vine has decided it's a good time to bloom, as well.  Soon I'll have to face dumping out the window boxes, pulling up the backyard tomato plants (planted late, still producing), and closing up the trailer at the lake.

Here's how I spent some of my summer vacation:

This is the trailer at the lake that I co-own with my friend (and current housemate) Cheryl.  An AA friend and I built this deck in late July.  I spent many days here, reading, writing, sitting on the beach.  We've paid our rent for next year, so come see us then!

What I've been thinking a lot about lately is my yoga.  I belong to a studio here in town, and take classes 4 times a week.  I've found two teachers that I really, really like; one teaches Iyengar-style, and the other a simple, gentle hatha.  I've tried various levels of vinyasa (flow) classes, but simply can't bear it.  It's not that I mind moving, but I want to flow at my own speed, in my own style, and so my sun salutes get done at home, if at all.  But I spent my summer days in Buffalo going to classes, to AA meetings, and riding my bicycle to both meetings and classes.  Being on the bike kept me feeling young, as I rode my bike in college all the time, didn't have a car, was riding even through snow at -22F sometimes.  That was 'way back in the day, in my late teens and early 20s (wait--how did that get to be 40+ years ago??).  Now I have the luxury of only riding when the weather's nice, and I relish it.  I've even been known to load all 3 of my baskets full of groceries (front basket & 2 side panniers), and cautiously ride home.  Fun!

But yes, yoga.  My teacher Julia has helped me to love my body, to remember that joy is an internal experience that I can learn to access whenever I want, not something imposed or accessed by external means.  If I've felt any emotion, it's in there somewhere, just waiting to be felt again.  My body speaks to me these days, telling me what it needs and doesn't, what kinds of work it enjoys and what it doesn't, which kinds of movement are beneficial and which ones aren't.  There aren't words, of course, but it's beyond and beneath words.  I sometimes use words back in this dialogue with my body, though (not out loud), because I'm a word creature.  I can express love and gratitude and nurturing toward my body.  I love having that relationship.  It makes me feel like a more whole person, and I think that's probably partly what yoga's all about -- not fitness or stress reduction, or those other fairly superficial things -- but about being strong, joyful and complete, and taking that feeling, that condition, into the world as a gift, so that others can also feel more joyful and complete.  I believe the mood and attitude that I bring into the world contributes to (or detracts from) how the world feels.  My wish is to keep improving what I bring and give to the world, but it's a really long and imperfect process.

Things are busier in the fall in Buffalo.  Summertime is for having fun, for going to the water and doing things outside: walking, bicycling, going to concerts, eating on porch or restaurant patio, gardening.  In the fall the "season" (fall/winter season) begins:  museums, lectures, galleries, classes.  I belong to three arts/cultural organizations:  Just Buffalo Literary Center, the Albright-Knox Art Gallery (with cross-membership at the Burchfield-Penney Art Museum), and the Analytical Psychology Society (Jung Center).  I love attending exhibits, lectures, and workshops, and currently attend a writing workshop at Just Buffalo, and a Women's Study Group and a Red Book Study Group at APS.  Buffalo is full of activities that feel my mind, heart, and soul.

I also serve a lovely church in the Parkside Community neighborhood of Buffalo (close enough to ride my bike, when it's nice weather).  The Episcopal Church of the Good Shepherd is a little jewel box of a church, with Tiffany stained glass windows, a lovely music program, and a wonderful community of people.  I'm their temporary priest (they call me "extended supply," meaning I'll serve them regularly until they hire a permanent priest).  It's lovely being there with them 2 days a week or so.  I also do a small Sunday afternoon service at Canterbury Woods Retirement Community, and every-other week I serve the Church of the Ascension at Good Shepherd.  Sunday is my busiest work day, but I love it.

Whew!  Writing all this reminds me of how full and rich my life is right now.  I am a lucky, lucky woman.  But it makes me a little tired, too.  Think I'll go upstairs and lie down on my yoga mat.

Summertime...

Ah, yes, the living is so easy.  I love being retired -- well, semi-retired; I do have 3 part time jobs.  But that means I work Saturday afternoon and most of the day Sunday, and a bit here and there during the week.  My life is so good.  I do like to think that the state of my back porch reflects the state of my psyche -- a little worn around the edges, but lush and verdant, comfortable and sweet.  There's no better place to sit and read a book, or write in my journal first thing in the morning, and take a little quiet time  before the day imposes itself.  Last year I didn't really get much done out there in the way of plants and comfort, but somehow this year I hankered after flowers and flower boxes, potted plants, and a sweet little private retreat outdoors.

Down in the back yard I have a teeny little veggie and herb garden, planted quite late actually, and now I have blossoms on my cukes, tiny tomatoes on my plants, and herbs growing nicely.  I'll have a bumper crop of basil once again, which means pesto to eat both now and in the winter.  It has been a hot, dry summer: Tennessee weather, I keep saying.  And this apartment and the churches I serve have NO air conditioning.  But I'm surviving, even in today's 86 degrees and 79% humidity.  I finally had to buy a lawn sprinkler to water things, after the flowers on my bee balm just shriveled up.  The shrub itself is fine, but the flowers, while abundant, just didn't like the drought.  I still love growing things, and can't wait to plant the lilac and witch hazel that I bought last month.  Things are a little more temperamental here, because of the harsh winter weather and short growing season, I suppose.  In Tennessee, I could hardly kill things even when I wanted to.  Here, things may thrive, or they may not.  I'm sure it's a skill to learn -- Buffalo is full of absolutely gorgeous gardens.  We have the largest Garden Walk in the country, and there are real garden artists here.  I'm not really an artist, just someone who delights in living things of all varieties, and loving and growing plants is amazing to me.

I've been taking yoga classes 4 times a week.  I've joined a yoga center, and the monthly fee makes the per-class cost really, really cheap.  I feel strong, flexible, and healthy.  The other day I did a full shoulder stand for the first time since I moved back here two years ago, and I reached that point where my alignment was just right and I felt so light and joyful!  It made my day.  I honestly didn't know I was strong and flexible enough -- but when I easily did a box position (box-asana?) on the wall, I got the first inkling that I was stronger than I realized.  Yoga gives me joy, gratitude for my dear body, and a sense of connection to both the others in my classes, and to God.  Amazing how a physical practice can be so spiritual, but it is.

Yesterday I spent a few hours at the trailer by the lake; it's the first time I've been there all year.  I bought the lumber I need to build my deck, the one I've been planning for nearly 2 years.  Somehow I thought I would be able to buy the lumber, build the deck (a simple wooden box to sit on a nice bed of gravel), go swimming, and clean up the trailer -- all in one afternoon!  What was I thinking?  But the lumber is there, and today a friend offered to help me work on it.  I hope to go back on Monday after yoga and get some significant work done on it.  I'm yearning for some serious "glamping," but there's work to do out there first.  Maybe the "glam" part of "glamping" will have to wait till next year.  This is the year for basics.

I've become active in the local Psychoanalytic Psychology (Jungian) society, and am attending a woman's study group on the feminine, as well as a study group on Jung's Red Book.  I've begun attending a writer's critique group, and will go regularly when it resumes in the fall.  I'm still not writing much, but I'm thinking about it!  And I'm still sticking to my food program (mostly), and am well on the way to losing the considerable weight I regained just before and just after I moved back to Buffalo.  I guess the major life transition got the better of me.  I have a sweet little 5-speed French bicycle that I bought at an estate sale last year, and I ride it pretty much every day when the weather cooperates.  I ride to meetings, to yoga, to the grocery store, even to work sometimes.  It reminds me of when I was in college and had no car; I rode my bicycle everywhere -- it was my basic transportation.  So when I'm riding I mostly feel young and strong.  Buffalo is much flatter than Tennessee; but riding a bicycle gives me intimate knowledge of every hill in town!

Last year I took a 2 1/2 week trip to France (mostly Provence), and saw several new black madonnas (pictures to come later).  It was a wonderful trip, though June is definitely not the best time to go to France; September is.  We had an overnight in Clermont-Ferrand (roughly halfway from Paris to Aix-en-Provence -- 2 black madonnas there), 2 weeks in a beautiful house in Aix (5 of us shared it, and it was amazing), and then I had 3 days alone in Paris at the end.  Great trip.

The last (but probably most important) thing is that I've joined Alcoholics Anonymous.  When I was trying very hard to get back on my food program, I discovered that the one thing I couldn't seem to bring myself to put down was the alcohol.  I felt as though my life kept getting smaller and smaller, until it got to be about the size of a glass (or 10) of wine and a television screen, and I did have a sense that alcohol made that life seem like the right size most of the time.  I moved to Buffalo because I knew I could have a "big life" here (meaning full and meaningful and abundant, full of interesting things to do and people to love), and yet my life was tinier and tinier.  So I finally about a year ago I got myself to a meeting, and just kept going back, and then quit drinking, got a sponsor, and started working the steps.  I really like it!  I like not drinking, though sometimes I still miss it.  On a hot evening like this, a great big gin & tonic (or a dozen of them) sounds really good.  But I don't really want to go back to it.  I'm loving my life as it has grown over the last year.  I love the people I'm meeting.  I love having a program where I can continue to work on myself and grow and learn.  I love how I feel when I go to a 7:30 a.m. meeting 6 days a week, and other meetings on other days.  Things just seem to go better when I'm working my program, praying and meditating and going to meetings and trying to live according to the Twelve Steps.  I hope you don't mind that I'll be sharing my experiences and miracles with AA and sobriety here.

So yeah, the livin' is easy here in my life.  I am joyful and peaceful (mostly) and free.  When I read back over this post, I think of paragraphs and paragraphs that I want to write about all these things.  Definitely mroe to come...

Jury Duty

Okay. I do see how long it has been since I've written here. Ridiculously long. And so much has happened, is still happening in my life. But I'm sitting here in the Jury Selection room of the County Courthouse, with a bag full of reading material (why did I bring all that, with so many books on my phone, from which I'm writing this). But I saw on Facebook that my dear niece Melissa posted a link to an entry I wrote two years ago. Two years!

My life is so different than it was two years ago! Should I write about retirement? About my trip to France last summer? About being co-owner of a sweet little trailer by the lake?About how it is, learning to live with another person again, after living alone for 21 years? About joining AA? Yes, I should, and want to, write more than once a year, if I want to write about all that, and whatever else comes up day by day in this one wild and precious life.

But now I need to stand up and move around this crazy jury room full of people who are just as restless as I am. Do you know that "sitting is the new smoking" (heard that on NPR the other day)? Maybe I'll go lean on a wall and read my "New Yorker. "

 

 

Six Months (and More) Later

Hello.  Here I am again.  I've retired (well, semi-retired).  I live in Buffalo now, not on the Cumberland Plateau.  I've left my beautiful little church, my beautiful house, my beautiful (too big) gardens.  I'm still trying to downsize.  I've left a 4-bedroom house and now live in two rooms.  My garden is now a small backyard - something more like what I can manage.  I live in a great city with my best friend, and spend lots of time with dear people, doing things I love.  I have time to experiment and try things out.  I have a new computer.  My new car, after hitting a deer and spending a month in the shop, is working out great, except the AAA guy tells me I've got to drive it more, because of its teeny-tiny battery needing a longer charge.  Everything is very close to home here.  I walk a lot.  I also got a new (to me)/used French 5-speed bicycle that I ride pretty often.  I take a few yoga classes.  I only set my alarm on Sunday, usually.

I don't do full-time parish work anymore.  I work Sunday and one other day for a dear parish (more about that sometime), and I work Thursday night at a service that's designed for the 12-step community.  I love it all.  Sometime I'm going to record some of that Thursday service and post it here, because it's so unique.

It's getting very close to snow season.  We had a few flakes yesterday, but none stuck.  Today was gorgeous, but cool.  Though the fall leaves are past their peak, my street is still drop-dead gorgeous.

I'm planning another trip to France sometime in the late spring, this time with good friends.  I'll drive around in the mountains and look for Black Madonnas.  But Provence will be home base, and I'll be with a couple of French-speakers.

I want to tell you much more about all of it.  There are so many open doors and coincidences, that it all feels meant-to-be.  But I'm still here, yes, still alive and kicking and with my darling Clementine (dog), since dear Buddy went to heaven shortly before I left Tennessee.

As Rachel Maddow says, "Watch this space."

Two things happening in my life (not worth of much more than a Facebook status, unless I'm willing do dive deeper): I've announced my retirement as of June 30 here in Tennessee. I'll be moving to Buffalo, collecting my pension, working part time, and hopefully writing my black madonna book and traveling more. Second: I bought a new car today. Yum. 2013 Honda Fit. Probably the last car I'll ever buy. Red. Simple and basic. Reminds me of every car I've ever owned before my darling Celeste, the car I just traded in. Goodbye leather seats and sunroof. Hello little, city-living car. It's not as small as a Smart Car, but littler than my "loaded" Accord. I miss my beauty already, but have the car that's right for me now.

I'll be working on leave taking over the next 3 months, the combination of grief and celebration and anticipation. I love the place I'm leaving, and love the place I'm going. Much more to follow....

Life on the Plateau, and Today's Sermon

Things have been very busy here in Churchland, Tennessee.  At the end of September our parish secretary resigned her position (she's still a member and leader of the church, still a good friend).  She has returned to college, and I'm so proud of her!

I don't know what made me think, though, that I could do her job and mine, too.  Well, part of my reasoning is that we have a new software program that practically writes the whole service leaflet for us.  Only a few things need tweaking each week, including the parish prayer list.  Despite our supply of the Book of Common Prayer, we now print out our entire service, except for hymns, each week.  And I also have a parish helper that comes in and helps me by folding and assembling the leaflet, the monthly newsletter, etc.  Yes, it uses a lot of dead trees.  But most people, members and guests alike, are finding it much more user-friendly than flipping back and forth in the prayer book.  I still use my trusty prayer book, though, as do a few others of us.

That all being said, I've been dancing as fast as I can for four months now, trying to do two jobs, and not doing either one really well.  Finally in November I accepted the inevitable and knew we would have to hire another secretary, even though the position is only about 25 hours per month.  Finally, last week, we hired one!  I can't wait for her to begin!  Maybe I'll have some time to think about things like more pastoral calling, clearing my desk of accumulated projects and mail, and organizing my house again.  The house looks like it used to back in seminary, at the end of a semester:  pure chaos.

The other thing I hope I'll have more time for, is blogging.  Facebook is so much easier and quicker, but it simply doesn't demand the kind of thought and reflection that I get to do here.  When I write here, I notice more, and I think more about what I notice.

At any rate, here's today's sermon.  I hope your Sunday is a true sabbath of rest and peace and happiness.

Download Epiphany 2A, January 19, 2014