On Mother's Day, Vacations, and Work

Here I sit on Mother's Day morning, one of the rare Sundays that I'm not getting ready to drive across the mountain to Bristol to preach and preside at Faith Lutheran.  Let me record some thoughts:

--I feel lucky to have a mom I love who loves me.  I know that many don't have that kind of luck.

--I feel lucky that my experiences of not having children is what I wanted, and it worked out how I envisioned.  I know that many don't have that kind of luck.

--I'm not preaching today because I'm in Hilton Head, SC with my mom and dad, who are in their last half of their 80's.  I know we don't have many more holidays like this ahead of us, so I'm glad to be able to be here.

--The last time I was in Hilton Head was in 2022, with my lower arm in a cast.  In fact, I had just had surgery to repair the broken wrist, so I was on heavy antibiotics, which messed up my GI system.  Happily, I'm not facing those kinds of challenges on this trip.

--The time before that, in 2021, we had stopped to pick up my sister at the Savannah/Hilton Head airport on our way north.  I remember one morning talking about whether or not we should sell our Florida house--the market was just starting to heat up.  She was one of the first who said, "Sell."  No equivocating, no hesitations. I had been accepted to seminary, but I still had my administration job, which was slated to end later in the year when the New York buyers of the school were going to close the Hollywood campus.

--We also came in September of 2020, where we were careful to stay very far apart from each other.  We grocery shopped early in the morning.  The resort amenities were very limited.

--I'm glad I was blogging during the pandemic.  Otherwise, I'd have lost a lot of those memories, or I would think back and doubt that it was really as bad as I was remembering.

--It's been a week of a different kind of disease news, hantavirus on a cruise ship.  I'm glad that I don't love going on a cruise ship.  In light of my understanding of disease and transmission, I have no desire to have a vacation that relies on a plane or a ship.

--It is the day after graduation which went well, but meant it was a day of a lot of driving.

--I came across this statistic in a New York Times article about retirement and work:  "Roughly 37 percent of Americans over 55 are in the work force."  That number seems low to me.  But what I really want is the percentage of working Americans who are ages 60-75.

--I feel lucky to be at a school where I can envision teaching long past the age where others might retire.  I won't be the only older faculty member--a lot of us know a good thing when we see it.

--And a lot of us have been teachers our whole lives, which means we can't afford to retire like past generations could.

Graduation Morning

I am up early, trying to write a rough draft of my last seminary paper for my Lutheran Confessions class, before heading down to Spartanburg for the graduation ceremony for Spartanburg Methodist College.  It will be the last time that both December and May graduates walk across the stage together.  Our number of graduates has gotten too large for our venue, and in the future, we'll have a December graduation and a May graduation, and faculty will decide which one they attend.

SMC's graduation had already outgrown the on-campus facilities, so we use a local high school.  And now, we're too big for that venue--what a wonderful problem to have, especially in this age of shrinking higher ed.

For a week where I didn't have regular classes to teach, I've been up and down I 26 more times than in a regular week:  faculty workshops and the faculty/staff lunch, a trip down to Columbia to see grad school friends, graduation, and a new housing adventure (I'll blog more about that later).  This morning, it's all feeling a bit surreal to me.

But I am also feeling fortunate.  Last year, I was happy that my year-to-year teaching contract had been renewed for another year.  This year, I am ecstatic that I have accepted a tenure track position at SMC.  I'm still not sure what it all means for ordination in the years ahead.  But I am delighted to be able to count on being employed by this school in a way that I hadn't before.

Julian of Norwich and Older Age

May 8 is the feast day of Julian of Norwich in the Anglican and the Lutheran church; in the Catholic church, it's May 13.  Is Julian of Norwich as famous now as Hildegard of Bingen or Ireland's St. Brigid?  Are any of these women more widely known now than they were in grad school when I first started searching for the females that had been left out of a variety of narratives?  I have no idea.  They are more widely known in the subcultures to which I belong, but in the wider world?

In those early days (the late 80's) of discovering female voices that had been left out of literature anthologies, I most treasured Julian of Norwich for her writing.  In later years, the theology of her writing fascinated me--so many centuries before any blooming of anything that could be called feminist, here was a woman writing about a feminine face of God.

Now, as I head into the second half of my life, Julian of Norwich calls to me in a different way.  For me, the last decade can be seen through a lens of loss:  my best friend from high school died a horrible cancer death, there have been other deaths along with a pandemic, we left South Florida for many reasons, job loss among them.  Why would Julian of Norwich speak to me in this new way?

I think of her, alone in her cell, all of her focus shrunk into so small a space.  I think of her as a model of living more with less.  So, I may never hike the Appalachian Trail in one long trek, but that doesn't mean that my life needs to come to a halt.  I may come to a point where I'm living in one room, but that might be a room that is more full than any of my previous homes.

When I've thought about my older age, I've assumed that I would create communities the same way I've always attempted.  I've thought about the Hildegards and the Brigids and their nunneries--I've always wanted (or thought I did) a community like that one.

Of course, having lived in smaller communities, I realize how much work goes into making that kind of community--but the rewards can be so amazing.

As my friends and family have had health crises, it has occurred to me that I may outlast my friends.  There may be no one to follow me to the commune.  What then?

I used to write to my friend with cancer:  "When we are little old ladies, rocking on the porch, we'll look back on this time . . ." and then I'd fill in with various visions.  When she died, I thought, well, I might be rocking on that porch all by myself.

Instead of that lonely vision, I'm going to train myself to think of Julian of Norwich.  Many of us may spend our later years not in some kind of community, but all alone, in our various houses and apartments.  While some isolation will occur, perhaps it can be a time of creativity, a time to focus that many of us won't have had before.

Mystics like Julian of Norwich can show us the way!

Faculty Appreciation

This morning, I'm sort of back to my normal school year schedule, as it has been for the last two years.  I will drive down to Spartanburg Methodist College, leaving here at 7ish, to make sure I'm on time for the morning's requirements.  We have a faculty meeting at 8:30 followed by a morning of faculty development workshops, followed by an appreciation lunch.

I don't resent today's tasks.  I remember a time when I resented quite bitterly being required to go back to campus during time when I wasn't teaching.  The administration viewpoint at the time was that we should be on campus 40 hours, except for our 4 weeks of vacation, 2 around Christmas and 2 in June.  We had a heavy quarterly teaching load:  6-6-5-5 when I started, 5 courses a quarter when the Art Institute of Ft. Lauderdale finally closed.  At times there was money for more traditional faculty development, like going to conferences.  But it was far more common for the school to save money by requiring us to do faculty development in house.

What really increased the bitterness of the faculty was that as the years progressed, the scrimping on costs got more severe, to the point where we didn't even have coffee, much less lunch or breakfast.  Today, in contrast, we have breakfast and lunch and we always have coffee available.

Let me stress that AiFL was a for-profit school, so those savings were going to the Corporate overlords who had bought the school in a hostile take-over.  I use the term hostile, because the Corporate overlords stripped all value from the school, leaving it a hollow shell.  When the first Corporate overlords bought the school, they kept a paycheck from all of us, telling us we'd get it back when we left.  My boss at the time assured me that if we'd gotten a job in a non-education sector, "in the real business world," we wouldn't see a paycheck for the first month we worked. Later, administrators lost a week of vacation time.  When I left the school, I didn't get that paycheck that had been kept.

I write these words, and I'm amazed we tolerated this treatment.  Of course, many of us had nowhere to go--the world is not awash in full-time faculty jobs, not then, not now.  And in some ways, the school was wonderful, full of creative people who were great colleagues.  In the early years when I was there, the students did go on to find great jobs, so the high cost of the school was worth it.  I was shocked when I discovered how much state schools really cost, so even the high tuition didn't seem as scandalous as the outer world might have seen it.

So believe me when I say, I am happy to be at a school that is committed to keeping costs for students low and committed to be growing at a sensible/conservative rate.  I am grateful to be at a school that truly appreciates faculty.  I am grateful to have a summer off.

I've been teaching full-time at SMC for the past two years, and in August, my contract becomes tenure track--hurrah!  I was on a year to year contract with the hope but not the promise of continuing in a full-time capacity; I taught five courses, but had no committee work requirement.  Now I'll teach a 4 course load, with some committee work.  The tenure track here stresses teaching and service to the college over publication, so I feel good about the next few years and my chance for success here.  More thoughts on that in the weeks and months to come.

Spring Semester Teaching--Done

I am tired, in that end of semester kind of way.  I'm done with grading--yesterday I submitted grades for all 7 (7!) courses I'm still teaching (there were 2 additional courses that ended April 17, and I got those grades done shortly after).  I am not done with seminary papers yet.  I have a sermon to write for Sunday, and because I'm going to be away, I need to get that sermon written by tomorrow.  No wonder I am tired.

I didn't write a blog post yesterday because I was looking at a noon deadline for grade submission, and I wasn't as close to being ready as I wanted to be--the same reason that I didn't do a morning walk.  When I got back from my early afternoon walk, I decided to see if I could get some grading and grade submission done for my Spartanburg Methodist College classes.  It was easier than expected, so I decided to get it all done, while nothing else was tugging at my attention.

Last night, we watched the original The Devil Wears Prada.  I wanted to be watching the sequel, but I didn't have the energy needed to go to a movie theatre--but the original was a treat.  I had forgotten how good that movie is.

This morning, I've done the tasks for open enrollment for benefits at SMC.  Now let me get to work writing that sermon. 

Retreat Chef

I have spent this week-end down at the Isle of Palms (near Charleston, SC), being part of a team that cooked for a retreat.  I used to cook for larger groups more often, so I knew I could do it.  But I'm also relieved that we're coming to the end of the retreat, and it's been a success.

We were helped by the fact that it's a group of people who are easy to cook for:  no dietary restrictions, no allergies.  We made pork tenderloin last night, and everyone ate it, and many went back for seconds.  Most of the participants spend much time in caring professions and providing care for family members--it's been years since anyone cooked for them, and they haven't been shy about expressing their gratitude.

It's an amazing kitchen--that helps too.  The kitchen has 2 dishwashers, 2 stoves, and 3 refrigerators.  It's got lots of equipment and all the basics, like dishes and silverware, every type of pot and pan, baking containers in every size and shape.

It hasn't all been cooking.  There's been Bible study and worship and lots of great conversation.  Back in October, on a chilly morning walk, when I agreed to help with the retreat, I hoped it would be this kind of experience.

It's been interesting being back at this retreat center, which is one of two Lutheran retreat centers in South Carolina.  I first came here as part of a campus group long ago in 1983.  My family came here in 1984 with a church group; it was the beginning of summer, and I wondered how I would last without seeing my college friends for a WHOLE SUMMER.

Now I'm thinking about coming back here at some point this summer to reconnect with old friends. 

I haven't done much grading, but I still have time.  Grades are due on Monday and Tuesday--plenty of time, but as I tell my students in the waning days of a term, not as much time as we once had.  I haven't done much writing, but there is plenty of time--a WHOLE SUMMER.

World Labyrinth Day 2026

   Today is World Labyrinth Day.   It's celebrated the first Saturday of May.

For more on labyrinths, this website is full of information. 

Below is  a poem-like thing with some of my favorite pictures of labyrinths I have known and loved:

We have walked labyrinths
made of fabric, made in fields,
laid out in tiles
or offered by cathedrals.

We have relied
on the promises of the labyrinth:
one path in, no dead ends,
no false turns, not a maze.

We have trusted
that the path leads
to a center that can hold
us all in all our complexities.