Our weekend

We had a wonderful weekend. Saturday we went to the National Arboretum which is amazing and huge. Sunday I actually did yardwork! And enjoyed it! That’s how nice the weather has been.

We have hit upon a very nice rhythm to the weekend:
-Friday night is family night. We will often eat something quick and easy while curling up with a movie. I think some people do family night as a time to turn off the TV, but
a) we don’t watch much TV to begin with, and
b) C and M are a little young for Clue.
-Saturday is running around/errand/outing day. The farmer’s markets open soon, so I think we’ll divide and conquer most mornings—M and I at the grocery store, R and C at the farmer’s market/bakery.
-Sunday is church day, with Mamala coming over around 4 to be with the girls. This allows R and me to do some chores that are tough to manage while juggling kids. Then he and I go out to dinner. Good stuff. I am preaching this Saturday night and Sunday morning, so we’ll see how blown-to-bits that schedule gets with sermon-writing thrown in.

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Churchy bits

Yesterday was Children’s Sunday, which means the children led worship and presented their spring musical in lieu of the sermon. Senior Pastor always takes the opportunity to go away for the weekend. (Likewise, I’ll take Youth Sunday off this year, which is Mother’s Day—maybe I’ll actually get breakfast in bed! A rare thing for a clergymom I would guess, unless the breakfast is at oh-dark-thirty.)

Well, Senior Pastor *basically* took the weekend off, although she called early Sunday morning to make sure I was planning to robe up and welcome the congregation before turning things over to the children.

First, I was a little ticked: I have been here almost three years and have attended Children’s Sunday every year—I know the drill. Does she not trust me?

Then I realized: Wait a minute. She is calling early on Sunday morning of her weekend away to tend to work matters—and not even life-or-death work matters, but a truly minor detail.

Third, I resolved: Don’t ever get so heavily invested in the church—any church—that you interrupt vacation to check up on a colleague regarding a minor detail.

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Another work-related tidbit—I received an inquiry from a church: “We were given your name by so-and-so; please consider applying to be our pastor.” This is my first real inquiry; I received a couple of nibbles after preaching at Mondo Youth Conference two years ago, but this was an actual letter with Church Information Form attached. (I also know who put my name in, although two other people connected with the church also urged me to apply.)

It’s strange to be entering the time frame in which many associate pastors start looking around. Three years is on the early side to be looking, but certainly not unheard of. Five years is almost an eternity for associates. As much as we affirm that associate pastors are not junior pastors—that associate pastor is as full a calling as solo pastor or head of staff—it is still a place for apprentice work to happen, and once that work is completed, the person is “launched” to a solo or head of staff position.

Anyway, I realized how easy it is to lose sight of one’s true goals in favor of feeding the ego. It’s a great church. Theologically and spiritually, I think we’d be a great match. I’m not sure I am quite qualified to be their pastor, but I could grow into it, and it’s flattering to be recommended. So I gave it a little bit of thought, and might have easily thrown my hat in the ring.

Then I remembered the 3/4 time thing, and the writing thing, and the fact that Mamala lives here and it has been soooo great to have a grandparent nearby for the sake of the kids (this church is in the same city as Crusty-old Theological Seminary, where I went). And I read the church’s information form, and didn’t feel that nudge that you feel when it’s an opportunity you’re supposed to pursue. So, there you go.

This is a leap of faith for me—ChaplainMom and I have talked about this—the compulsion to say yes to opportunities for fear that if you say no, that the opportunities will start to dry up. It takes a degree of trust to say no.


(Incidentally, thanks to everyone for the thoughts about committee structures. I talked to the elder in question over the weekend and I think we’re going to give it a go. The current committee will become the Sunday School team and meet every other month or so. Then we will create task groups for retreats and special events. We’ll see what happens.)

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Life and death

This weekend I read a personal reflection in the New Yorker with the subtitle:
Irene Raeburn, born December 28, 2004, died December 24, 2004.

Yes, you read that right. It was excruciating.

R does not get why I would read such an article. I read it because it was extremely well written and poignant, and true in this very deep way that something is true though I have not experienced the thing being written about. I don’t know. For me the reminder of death is what makes life so precious and lovely. Is this true for other people too, or is this a product of having my dad die two weeks before my first child was born?

At any rate, my peering into the abyss does have its limits:
There is no way I can see United 93.
I. Just. Can’t.

How about you?