Friday Retrospective

So, here it is, Friday finally.  When I went to bed last night, the news was full of developments from L.A.  When I woke up this morning, news of Israel bombing Iran.  It's the kind of news that might mark a true hinge point in history--or it might be a blip, bombings today, nothing tomorrow.

It's been a week of musical greats leaving us.  I drove home on Monday hearing that Sly Stone had died.  Yesterday morning I drove to the Asheville VA Hospital listening to analysis of Brian Wilson's genius.  In the pantheon of musical geniuses that provided the soundtrack to my youth, neither one of those was on replay at my house.  But they were on the radio and there waiting for me to discover them later.  I still haven't given Brian Wilson all the attention that he deserves.  Maybe some later summer I will.

It won't be this summer because my CPE training is going to leave room for very little else.  It's been an intense week, but a good one.   We have done much of our training by sitting around a conference table, day after day, talking about the best way to be a chaplain. Much of this is not new information to me, but it's useful to have a reminder. We are not there to preach but to ask meaningful questions and to practice active listening.

So, for example, if a veteran who is a patient says, "God hates me and I'm going to Hell because I killed so many people in combat," we wouldn't tell the veteran how wrong he/she is. We would say, "Tell me more about this idea that God hates me." Or perhaps, "Tell me more about why you think you're going to Hell." Or simply, "Say a bit more about that." It could lead to more meaningful conversation. Or it might not. It might lead the patient to have insights that will be more meaningful because of the process. Or it might not.

In our training, we've been talking about the best ways to do active listening.  We've talked about Bowenian family systems theory that will help us understand often unacknowledged ways that our families of origin and the families after those can impact the ways that humans interact.  We've sat in on verbatims, the way that CPE trains us to analyze our interactions with patients, to see what went well and how we can improve as chaplains.

--unfinished post--

Thoughts on the Hospital Itself

I have spent over 8 hours each day this week at the Asheville VA Hospital as I get hospital chaplain training through the CPE program.  As I have walked the halls, I've reflected on what I expected to find and what is actually here.

I have spent much of my life hearing about the VA medical system as one big huge mess.  I have seen NO evidence of that here on the ground.  Granted, I am not receiving care, and I am not dealing with bills.  But the hospital itself is clean and bright with lots and lots of staff.  Most of the staff smile at people as they walk down the halls.

I've had a chance to go beyond the public areas to people's rooms, and I see the same thing:  clean rooms, windows with a view, staff monitoring patient health, everyone calm and professional.  I do realize I have yet to see the wards where I be more likely to see disturbing sights, like operating rooms or the wards where people having a mental health crisis are served.

I'm happy to see art on the walls:  art that celebrates veterans, art that tries to capture the beauty of the outdoor world, art that seeks to inspire and comfort.  I'm happy to see small garden spaces as I walk outside, and these spaces are visible inside too.

I'm happy to know about the wide variety of services.  I think of the Asheville VA Hospital as being one of the smaller ones in the system, and if that's true, I can't imagine how large the larger hospitals must be.  During orientation, we found out that our hospital routinely is ranked in the top 3 of the VA hospitals in terms of patient satisfaction.

I am satisfied too.  My colleagues in the chaplains unit are wonderful, as are the others with whom we interact.  I feel very fortunate.

A Brief Look at the Second Day of CPE

I am now official:  I have a VA ID badge that will allow me to access the IT system.  I have taken a vow to uphold the Constitution against all threats, foreign and domestic, a vow I took as protests have spread across the nation.  I do not feel that these protests really have much of an implication for the vows I took.  On the contrary, I feel the Constitution protects the rights of the people to assemble and to protest.  Still, it's not an easy time in the country, as we are all waiting for various shoes to drop.

Yesterday's education time was much the same as Monday's:  meeting people, thinking about how to minister to patients, doing some thinking about how a hospital setting is different from other settings.  Again, it's not completely new to me, but neither is it something I've spent decades considering.

Today's writing time is short, as I knew it would be.  I have had to get a spiritual journey essay ready for today's orientation, along with some writing for my sermon on Sunday.  My back felt better last night and this morning, so let me get a quick walk done before I need to leave.

Yesterday I was struck by how the mountains changed through the day.  At certain places on the campus, the view is stunning.  I want to remember to look at that view at least once a day in addition to the time I am walking to and from my car.  It fills me with gratitude, and that's a feeling I need to make sure to cultivate in this summer of CPE.

The First Day of CPE

I am happy to report that the first day of CPE went well.  I had no trouble getting to the hospital--no rush hour traffic when I left at 7:10 yesterday morning.  As I drove down the Blue Ridge Parkway, I reflected on the beauty of all of my commutes across the mountains in all directions.

I met all the folks who will be a major part of my life this summer:  the chaplains, the chaplain residents, the educators, my cohort.  They all seem friendly.  We are a diverse group in terms of Christian belief and backgrounds and education.

After a day of training, I am so impressed with how the spiritual life of patients is protected/provided for within the VA hospital system.  I look forward to seeing how the theories we discussed yesterday play out in the wards we will serve.

My summer cohort, the interns of the group, will only serve the Med/Surg ward, since we are only here for the summer.  Residents who sign on for a year rotate through all the wards of the hospital, which sounds more grueling but also intriguing.

We spent time yesterday talking about the theories that undergird the spiritual care we'll be offering.  They are all familiar to me:  liberation theology and family systems theory and the liberatory education ideas of Paulo Friere.  We talked about ways to talk to patients that will encourage them to process what they're experiencing in the hospital, ways that are familiar from my spiritual direction certificate program.

It will be a different summer, to be sure.  It's been a long time since I spent 40+ hours a week in the same place doing the same type of work day after day.  When I woke up with an aching back and torso in general, I thought about how long it's been since I spent 8 hours sitting at a desk like I did yesterday.  Happily the whole summer will not be sitting at a desk, but it will be more sitting than I've been used to in the past few years.

Let me resolve to do micro-walks and stretching whenever I have a break, no matter how short.  Let me remember that small efforts are as important as large ones.

I got home last night, had a great conversation with my spouse about the day, and then not much later, went to bed.  It was only 7:30, to be sure, but it was rainy, and I was exhausted and happy that I'm able to go right to bed. 

Now to get ready for what today brings, by getting a walk in, by having my sturdy breakfast of porridge, by thinking about my clothes.  And then, onward, across the mountain, back to the hospital for the second day of CPE.

The Hour Before CPE Begins

Today I begin Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE), a part of the training of everyone who hopes to be a ordained into ELCA Word and Sacrament ministry.  Think of it as an internship program for chaplains; some people do their training in prisons, but the vast majority of CPE training is done in hospitals.  I will do my training at the Asheville VA hospital, which is much less of a commute than other parts of my life.

I don't have much information about what we'll be doing or what our schedule will be.  I hope to get more details today when orientation begins.  I don't know who will be doing the training.  I don't have any information on fellow CPE students, although I assume there are some, because there were three other e-mail addresses on the e-mail that came last night giving us first day instructions.

I've packed a bag with notetaking supplies and paper for possible downtimes.  I wanted to take a book, something that didn't weigh much, so I chose a book of poems.  I decided to go with one I've already read and loved, Jeannine Hall Gailey's Field Guide to the End of the World, which weighs less and takes up less space in the bag than her more recent Flare, Corona.  I have some colored pens and a few pieces of better paper for sketching.

I packed a lunch, my usual garbanzo beans and barley with feta cheese, but I'll keep it in the car.  I'll take some cash, in case everyone eats lunch in a cafeteria.  I packed carrots to eat on the way home.

I will wear a skirt with my favorite top.  I wish I knew whether or not the buildings will be cold or stuffy.  I'll wear my closed toe sandals that are meant to evoke the shoes of Mediterranean fishermen; they are comfortable, if I need to be on my feet, and I could run in them if I had to.

I've eaten a good breakfast:  oatmeal with ground flax seed, walnuts, and dried cranberries.  It will hold me all day if it has to.

Now let me shower and finish getting ready.  Orientation starts at 8, and I'm giving myself extra time for traffic, but hoping that I'll get there early (hence the need for a book).  Let me remember that even though I don't have much information about what to expect, I have a lifetime of experience that will serve me well.  Let me strive for an open heart so that I can learn even more about myself and the world around me.  Let me be of use to these veterans who have given so much.

Notes on an Ordination

My friend's ordination yesterday was beautiful, smart, affirming, inclusive, joyful--all the things a worship service of any kind should be.

I didn't take any pictures, so all pictures came from Facebook posts, and I'm unsure of the photographers.  We sat in the back because more people came than expected, which was fine, but it did mean that I didn't have a good vantage point for photos.  Happily, that also meant that I was fully present, not thinking about taking photos.

I was impressed with the way that all the pieces fit together:  song, liturgy, communion, the worship space itself.  It was a treat to hear Bishop Strickland's homily on Mary and Martha (pictured above), the reminder that we don't have to choose between the two responses to Jesus (listening and hospitality), that a faithful life includes each.  My friend who was being ordained received two Mary and Martha icons as gifts, one traditional:

and one more modern:

There was the laying on of hands and the laying on of a stole.

There were blessings upon blessings, which of course, can lead to dancing.

At the end, there were refreshments and bubbly drinks and presents and cleaning up.  Afterward, those of us who were in town got dinner at a very crowded restaurant and then relaxed back at camp, where a bear ambled down from the chapel to give us a final blessing for the day.

As I said yesterday, I am so glad I was able to be present to witness this incredibly powerful day.  Throughout the day, I thought about how many changes these past few years have brought, and I am so profoundly grateful.

A Friend's Ordination

Today one of my closest retreat friends will be ordained.  The ceremony will happen right here at Lutheridge.  As I have helped her get set up for the service, I've tried to remember if I've ever gone to an ordination service.

I've seen so many pictures of ordinations that I feel like I must have been to one, but as I've reflected, I have realized that I haven't.  I've known lots and lots of seminarians who graduated to become pastors, but I never went to their graduations or their ordinations.  Hmm.

My friend has been planning this ordination worship service for months, which has been interesting to hear about.  She went from thinking about mostly camp songs, but she's shifted to more traditional songs that can be played on the piano.  One reason is practical:  a lack of a guitarist, which would be necessary for camp songs.  But also, she's realized how much the other music has impacted her, perhaps more than camp songs.

She created a special quilt which will be part of the kneeling bench.  She's having the service at the Faith Center, not the chapel, because more of her own faith formation has happened there, and she doesn't have a personal connection to the chapel.  The banners hung for the Create in Me retreat still hang there, although they'll be taken down after this ordination.

I am looking forward to a well-designed worship service.  I am also looking forward to seeing friends who will gather for this celebration, even as I know I will wake up tomorrow wishing that we had had more time to reconnect.

Most of all, I am feeling fortunate that I can be a witness to this ordination.  In past years, I wouldn't have had enough vacation time to get up here for an ordination service on a June Saturday.  I'm glad that my life is different now.

Prophetic Imaginations, Past and Present

Yesterday afternoon, in the midst of news of the separation between Trump and Musk, I heard that the theologian Walter Brueggemann had died.  It wasn't exactly unexpected; he was 92 years old.  From what I've read, his death was peaceful.  And then I went to a picnic with the camp counselors for this summer--they're an inspiring group.

This morning, my thoughts turned to Brueggemann again, as I revised my Pentecost sermon.  I went back through some seminary papers; it's the rare theologian that I turned to again and again, the way I did Brueggemann's work, especially The Prophetic Imagination.  It has been especially interesting this morning, thinking about ancient prophets, thinking about Pentecost, thinking about our own time which is so full of nonsense and babble.  I tweeted this morning:  "Here for #5amwritersclub, here to work on my Pentecost sermon about God speaking in languages we each understand, while all around me, men spew nonsense and artificial intelligence hallucinates, and perhaps I'll also write a blog post about these juxtapositions."

I'm not sure I'm doing that, but I did think about the Brueggemann idea that I used most often across seminary papers:  the prophet shows us a world in which God can act and that God has a plan and a purpose (The Prophetic Imagination, p. 218).  And here's another Brueggemann quote that shows up periodically in my seminary papers:    “Clearly Jesus cannot be understood simply as prophet, for that designation, like every other, is inadequate for the historical reality of Jesus. Nonetheless, among his other functions it is clear that Jesus functioned as a prophet. In both his teaching and his very presence, Jesus of Nazareth presented the ultimate criticism of the royal consciousness. He has, in fact, dismantled the dominant culture and nullified its claims” (The Prophetic Imagination, 81-82).

Here's how I used these ideas in my Pentecost sermon:  We have the promise of the ancient prophets like Joel that if we can use our power to align ourselves and our societies to right relationship with God and with each other, we can turn ourselves and our societies in a new direction, one where we can discover a true path to flourishing.

Brueggemann's theology has inspired so many of us in so many ways.  I hope we can continue to inspire others with these ideas, whether they be with sermons or poems or simply in the way we live our lives.

Visions and Revisions

Today my left eye is a lot better--not completely back to normal, but not getting worse or staying the same.  I am thinking it might have been a scratch compounded by sinus issues--on Saturday, I had to take the contact lens out of my eye because of sudden irritation.  I didn't think too much more about it.

I also thought about all those dairy workers who contracted bird flu which presented as pink eye.  We've been moving our bird feeder in for the night, as bears are on the prowl, and while we've been careful to wash our hands, I have wondered about my eye in that light.

Have I done something that a sensible person might do, like go to the doctor?  No.  I feel like the body can take care of most of my ailments, and yes, that belief has gotten me in trouble before, like with my broken wrist.  But I'm also remembering our South Florida eye doctor who told me that there wasn't really a cure for pink eye, except for time.  He could give me a cream to help with symptoms if I wanted, and he reassured me that I wasn't damaging my vision or my eye.

So, I have tried to be patient, even as I feel a bit of despair.  I had had such a good run of eye comfort.  What had brought it to a close?  The light sensitivity in the eye has meant I couldn't do much--not much reading, not much writing, not much sewing.  It's not exactly how I meant to be spending my last days of summer break.  Monday I begin my Clinical Pastoral Education at the Asheville VA Hospital.

Today I go over to the hospital to get fingerprinted and to have an ID made.  I am hopeful that I have all the pre-CPE tasks finished, but I don't have a master check list to be sure.  I am trying to trust that it will be O.K.

I did have a great conversation with my advisor at United Lutheran Seminary, the next seminary in my ordination path. That conversation left me feeling reassured that although the path forward may be slow, I am on track.  She will enroll me in a class that won't have cost to me so that I will have this CPE on my transcript.  The seminary does do part-time internships, so I won't have to choose between an internship with low pay and no health insurance and no internship which means a crashing halt to my ordination plans.  My advisor says that she has better luck finding part-time internships than traditional internships for students.  I can do an internship across 2 years, which would allow me to keep  my full-time teaching job.  Here's hoping that my lectureship continues to be renewed. 

Another amazing thing happened yesterday:  my church made me a video card to congratulate me on my graduation with my MDiv degree.  Hurrah!  You can view it here.  It was heartwarming to see all these old friends who took the time to make individual videos, which my pastor stitched together.  What a great use of technology!

Today, in addition to other tasks, I'll be using up some sour milk to make cupcakes for tonight's picnic with Lutheridge camp counselors.  Our residential neighborhood does this every year--it's good for the counselors to meet us and good for us to meet them.  It's one of the aspects of being part of a neighborhood that's part of a church camp that I love, the ways we can interact and help make summer successful.

I won't have as much free time to volunteer at camp this year.  Between CPE and my part-time preaching in Bristol, Tennessee, I won't have much time.  But hopefully, by doing CPE this summer, I'll have future summers with more flexible time so that I can volunteer more.

Dwindling Days of Summer with Sore Eye

My eye saga continues, but is getting better.  Yesterday I realized it was only my left eye that is light sensitive, red, and sore.  Is it pink eye?  Something sinus related, but only on one side of my face (which has happened before)?  Am I fighting off some sort of cold or flu?  Yesterday I tried to take it easy:  no contact lenses, less screen time, more sleeping.  This morning is better than yesterday morning, but still not back to normal.

Despite my eye situation, I managed to get through the onboarding tasks and training for the Asheville VA Hospital.  It looks like I've done everything that needs to be done before I start CPE training on Monday.

I was also able to go out with a friend.  We went to Mela, an Indian restaurant in downtown Asheville. We went for the lunch buffet, the biggest buffet I've seen in an Indian restaurant.  I tried a few bites of each of the vegetarian dishes, which took two plates to do.  Left untouched:  several chicken dishes, the soup, and the special donuts.  We had a cup of chai, which was good, but not as good as my Indian friend in South Florida used to make for us.

Here's my one sentence review of the food:  "it was flavorful and full of vegetables and spices, but it didn't punish me for eating it."  So much of the Indian food in South Florida was so harshly spiced, the first bite making it impossible to taste anything else.

After our Indian lunch, we went to Raven and Crone.  Both of us used to shop at the Joyful Alternative in the 5 Points area of Columbia, SC, and we both agreed that Raven and Crone has that same vibe.  What a treat!

Today I'll get back on track with tasks I want to complete before CPE starts.  Can I create several weeks of sermons in advance?  Should I think about Fall syllabi?

Stay tuned!

Tired Eyes

I woke up this morning with tired eyes.  It was a combination of light sensitivity and the scratchiness that comes when I wear my contact lenses too long.  I got plenty of sleep last night, but it's not surprising that my eyes are tired.  I'm still doing lots of staring into a computer screen, still doing stitching by hand, all the things which can leave me tired.

I also spent time this morning looking at real estate listings in the Columbia (SC) area.  Why would I do that?  We have no plans to move, and we will not sell this mountain house, even if one of us found a job elsewhere.  But my eyes were tired before getting sucked down that rabbit hole.

Here's the thing--it's rare to wake up with tired eyes after getting plenty of sleep.  So of course, I wonder if maybe this is the start of something new.  How would my life change if I needed to give myself more time to wake up, the way much of the rest of the world needs to have more time?

I realize my tired eyes are just a blip, that a month from now I won't even remember that I woke up on a June day with eyes that didn't want to focus.

June Begins

This Sunday morning feels downright leisurely:  time to blog, time to read, no need to go racing across the mountain at 7 a.m. to be to Faith Lutheran in time for Confirmation class at 9.  We've only gained an hour; we still need to leave at 8 a.m. to be in Bristol, Tennessee for worship at 10 a.m.

Yesterday felt leisurely too, with no seminary class work to do.  I got my sermon done earlier than I sometimes can manage when I'm teaching during the SMC school year.

I'm trying not to think about how I could get used to this leisurely schedule.  On June 9, I begin CPE training, and my schedule shifts again.  I'm not sure what to expect yet.

It is June 1, which means different things to different people.  For many of us, June is Pride month, which may feel very different this year.  For some of us, we're looking forward to celebrating Juneteenth, while it is still a national holiday.  Many students see June as the beginning of summer.  For me, it will always be the start of hurricane season.

I heard from a friend in our old neighborhood in Florida that they had damage in the flooding rains of last June, non-hurricane rains, and that they had to rip up and replace floors and sub-floors.  They had $65,000 worth of damage, and insurance has refused to pay.  If their house flooded, our old house likely did too.  I am glad to be out of that neighborhood.

And now, in this neighborhood where much of the storm damage is repaired or in the process of being repaired, let me get ready for this day.

The Feast Day of the Visitation in Sketches and in Storytelling

Today is the feast day of the Visitation, the day when we celebrate the time that Mary, pregnant with Jesus, goes to visit her kinswoman Elizabeth, pregnant with John the Baptist.  Elizabeth's story, though rare, isn't completely original; scholars point out that the barren/old woman miraculously pregnant wouldn't be unfamiliar to ancient audiences.  Mary's story is much more unusual.  I've written about this feast day numerous times:  this post is a good example.

For my Biblical Storytelling class that I took in Fall of 2024, when I had to choose a passage to memorize to go with the first one I chose, the bleeding woman, I returned to Luke 1:  39-45.  I recorded it, and overall, I was pleased.  It won't win any awards, but that's fine.  You can view this effort here on my YouTube channel.

Lately I've started sketching this scene more.  I made the above and the below sketch as my Christmas and Easter seminary class discussed the passage.  

I decided not to write about the passage for my longer essay.  Instead, I wrote about Anna, the prophetess who gets much less space, but may be more important.  Here are two paragraphs that explain my approach:

"If we go back to take a closer look at Luke, we’ll see that older people and women have a starring role in many parts of the birth narrative. The main star, of course, is Mary, the woman who will incubate salvation in her womb and nurture the second part of the Trinity until he is able to move into the ministry activities for which he was born. Her story has been studied from many angles, and often it is the only one offered to those of us who want a vision of Jesus and the disciples that is more inclusive.

But what about women who aren’t young, women who don’t see the appeal in motherhood, women who don’t have a Joseph who will love them? Elizabeth might seem like an answer, but she, too, is finding fulfillment in a very patriarchal approved way, through pregnancy and motherhood. The story of Zechariah and Elizabeth (Luke 1: 5-25 and 39-80) might be the one most of us think of when we look for the presence of elders in the Nativity story or we might think of Simeon, a chapter later. Anna’s appearance, near the end of the second chapter of Luke, is much shorter, but also packed with meaning when we work on discerning the meaning of the incarnation."

Earlier this month, I started sketching, and I thought I'd do another sketch of Mary and Elizabeth.  But I didn't like the initial sketch, so I started rounding out the figures that began as the two women and ended up as chrysalises.  I love the sketch because it works on multiple levels.  The middle green part is both leaf and Holy Spirit.

It's not a traditional approach to the two women, but it's been one that has been delighting me, as I've worked on it during the month of May

The Frustrations of Forms, The Joys of Geraniums

It has been a frustrating week in some respects, frustrating from the point of view of needing to fill out paperwork and not having the systems work.  Yesterday I think I finally got all of my forms for the VA filled out; I needed to submit these forms so that I can begin CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education) at the Asheville VA Hospital, which starts on June 15.  I need to do CPE so that I can stay on track for ordination.  Several times I went to the first form, only to find out an essential piece of information had been entered incorrectly, which meant I needed to notify the VA, which meant I needed to wait for a human on the other end to correct the form.

Yesterday I started on the process to get my WELCA scholarship awarded/applied to my Lutheran seminary where I will take a Lutheran theology class in the spring.  I thought I was ahead in the process, since I already have an account in the ELCA grants system.  But yesterday, I filled out the form and did not see the green submit button that is supposed to be at the bottom of the form.

I have written to the e-mail where one should write if one is having trouble with the software.  And now, I wait.  The window for getting this done is very short, especially if one is having trouble.  I am trying not to fret.

Yesterday after all the wrangling with forms and websites, I took myself to the NC Farmer's Market.  A friend is getting ordained on June 7, and I have been tasked with getting geraniums.  I have assumed that would be no problem, but I wanted to see what was available.  I have been worried that I might have blown it by waiting too long.

Happily, there were geraniums.  Not at wholesale prices, but they looked like healthy plants.  I got some with buds on them, and hopefully, by the time of her ordination, each plant will have some blooms.  I put them on the table on the deck, and they look lovely as they capture the light.

I get the joys of geraniums for 9 days, a gift that gives in so many ways, as I wait for the forms to be fixed.

Sorting Sadness, Sorting Happiness

I have a few weeks here as late May turns into early June, an in-between time, in the space between heavier schedules.  I've been trying to do some sorting:  clothes, books, paperwork.  I've been trying not to feel sadness or despair.

For example, as I've sorted through the books, I'm sad at the money spent, at the books that weren't very useful.  Most of the books were for seminary classes, and I always made the decision just to buy the books required for each class, to buy them in advance so that I would have them.  I've been in school (taking classes and/or teaching) for many decades, so I know that often required books will not really be required.  I'm a good student, so I know that I could probably find the books in the library.  But it seemed easier to buy them so that I could be sure I would have them--even though I knew when I bought them that I might not need them.

I'm glad to have been able to support the authors and the publishers.  But most of the books that I'm taking to donate to the public library will not be books I'll ever look at again, no matter how well they were written.

Of course, the same might be true of many of the books I've kept through the years.  Some books I keep because they remind me of an important time in my life.  Some books I keep because I worry that they may vanish otherwise--that I'll need the book and won't be able to find it in the library once they aren't available to purchase.

I've been rereading some of the novels I've loved most in the evening just before I go to bed.  I'm usually tired, so I usually don't read more than a few pages.  Gone are the days of my youth when I would stay up long after bedtime, reading with a flashlight.  I love reading a beloved novel from my younger years because I can hold the narrative thread in my head for weeks at a time; I can read a few pages a day and not get lost.  Currently, I'm working my way through Gail Godwin:  Father Melancholy's Daughter, which I intended to read during the liturgical season of Lent, but it stretched on, and now, The Good Husband.

As I was sorting yesterday, I took some online reading breaks, and I was saddened to hear about the death of Susan Brownmiller, author of Against Our Will:  Men, Women, and Rape.  She was 90 years old, a sobering realization.  In my mind, all the classic authors of that feminist era are still in their 30's and 40's.  I am old enough to remember a time when people didn't take the issue of rape seriously and when we didn't think about issues of consent.  I'm glad those times have gone, even though I do realize we're still very far away from a yet-to-be-created world when people are safe from sexual violence.

Sorting often sends me down other memory lanes.  Yesterday I came across an envelope of work-related phone numbers from the last college in South Florida where I worked as an administrator.  I used to write important numbers on a sticky note, and then I'd stick the note in an envelope so I would know where it was.  Yes, most people would outsource this task to a phone, but I didn't have that kind of smart phone until we moved to North Carolina.  When I left that job, I took the envelope of phone numbers with me.  Even then, I didn't really think I would ever need them again, but still, one never knows.  

And now the school has closed; many of the phone numbers in the envelope no longer exist.  I took a moment to feel a bit of sadness before tossing the envelope into the recycling bin.  I thought of all the names connected to the phone numbers in the envelope.  I hope those people have gone on to something that soothes their souls, as I have.

As I sort, I feel a wistful happiness.  I think of all the moves that have brought me here.  I think of the fact that I am happy to be here, right where I am, which is a situation/feeling which has not been common for me (and which may explain all the books).

Memorial Day 2025

It is Memorial Day, and this year, it's almost slipped right by me.  I don't watch much TV, so I haven't seem all the ads about the sales that may or may not be happening.  I don't live in a military town, so that aspect of Memorial Day is missing.  It doesn't feel particularly summery, and even if it did, my clothes don't change much (layers!), so I don't need to unpack one closet after packing up the past season's clothes.

I'm also not working a full-time job in the way that I have in the past, so this day isn't a day off for me in the way it has been in the past.  Many days in May and early June are days off for me this year.

I don't have major Memorial Day plans, like I might have in the past.  Long ago, my Jacksonville friends celebrated birthdays with a huge party, and we would go--now they are divorced.  Most of my Florida friends who used to do Memorial Day cook outs have moved various places, as have we.  Later this morning, I'll take one of the cars in for service.  I've already done some grading for my online classes and some poetry writing.  Plus, I made a few submissions to the few literary journals which are still open and not charging fees.  

Overall, it will be a low-key Memorial Day, and that's fine with me.  I feel fortunate that it's not a day of personal grieving for me.  While I've known many people who have served in the military, I don't know of any who have died.

I've spent some time reflecting on how few of us these days know people who have served in the military, and even fewer of us have first hand knowledge of military deaths.  I also know that some amount of class privilege is a marker.  But medical developments are also responsible.  We didn't have the number of military deaths for conflicts in this century, compared to past centuries--we have the equipment and techniques to keep wounded soldiers alive as they are transported from the battlefield.

Still, it's a good day to think about sacrifices made for those of us who haven't had to fight.  It's a good day to remind ourselves that we're not done with war and to look for ways to encourage leaders to back away from conflict.  It's good to remember that we still have military forces serving in all sorts of places, both conflict zones and peaceful ones and dangerous places that aren't full-blown conflict zones.   

Fish Fries and Mission Questions

Yesterday afternoon we went over the mountain to Bristol, Tennessee for the last fish fry of the season as Faith Evangelical Lutheran Church.  It's one of the community events that the church does, usually 4 of them throughout the spring.  

It's an amazing deal.  Ten dollars per plate, which includes fried or baked fish, green beans, pierogi, mac and cheese, cole slaw, and a roll.  That ten dollars also includes a beverage and a vast array of desserts.  While most people don't treat the event as an all you can eat extravaganza, we do give seconds if asked.  The money raised goes local charities, primarily the food pantry.

It's not an evangelical event, not in the traditional way.  Most of the people who come to the event already have a home church.  Most of the people who come already know about the church.  It's a small community, so most of the people who come have a personal connection to those of us at the church preparing and serving the food.

In a variety of classes and workshops on mission, I've been told that an essential question for churches is this one:  would your larger community miss you if you were gone?  Does the larger community even know that you are here?

Long before Faith Lutheran starts to advertise, the phone calls come in January, phone calls asking when the first fish fry will be.  Our church raises not only money for the food bank, but members work there, distributing food to the community.  We don't do the kinds of things that other churches might do:  no one uses our building but us, for example.  We don't offer computer literacy lessons or other kinds of classes that community members might want.  We are far from the legislative places where big decisions are made--we won't be demonstrating as a single church.

I often think of what I might do if I was their full-time pastor.  I'm not convinced that the church can grow much in terms of gaining new members.  There might be more to do in terms of being an essential member of the community, in terms of networking.  But again, it's a small community, so it's likely already happening, although perhaps not in a way that mission experts would be able to quantify.

How many members, how many individuals impacted?  I am grateful that I don't have to think in terms of these numbers.   I can just show up to enjoy a great meal, exchange stories with people who come, and give thanks for a wonderful community.

Colonoscopy Recap

I am pleased to report that my first colonoscopy went well.  It was done in a hospital, unlike my spouse's first colonoscopy, which was done in a place in South Florida, a colonoscopy center in an old strip mall out in the west of Broward county, a place with no outside sign which made me wonder if I was taking him to a place where his organs would be harvested.  His second colonoscopy was done in Asheville, in a stand alone center which was much more professional looking, and, like the first colonoscopy center in South Florida, very crowded.

Yesterday, my spouse and I were checked in, and then we were taken to a private room.  People came and went, asking questions, explaining procedures, hooking me up to machines, putting in the IV line.  Soon enough, we were on our way to the procedure room.  And then, soon enough it was over.  

I was grateful for the wheelchair ride to my car.  I was grateful for my spouse who took good care of me.  I was very grateful that I had an unscheduled afternoon so that I could take a nap.  And of course, I'm most grateful that nothing was wrong and that nothing went wrong.

My doctor found and removed some polyps.  I don't know of anyone who has had a colonoscopy who hasn't had polyps removed.  My spouse did some internet searching and discovered that a polyp has a 24% chance of turning cancerous, so I'm happy to have them removed.

I am most grateful that I'm not being punished for my delay in getting this preventative care task done.  I had a colleague who went through a dreadful ordeal, which you can read about on his blog; he ultimately died.  I wouldn't wish his ordeal on my worst enemy.  So I was relieved to find out that nothing had grown out of control while I didn't get a colonoscopy.

I took the rest of yesterday off.  I had thought I might do some sermon writing or some work on my online classes or go for a walk.  Instead, I took a long nap, followed by a trip to the grocery store.  We ate steak for our midafternoon meal, and watched mindless cooking competition shows until it was time to go to bed again.  By later afternoon, I was able to do a bit of sewing which soothed me in the way it often does.

And now it's time to attend to other tasks, the work of the week--but first, a walk!

My First Colonoscopy

I have been up since 2, and there's no point in going back to sleep--I am doing prep for my first colonoscopy which happens at 8 a.m., with check in at 6:30 a.m.  I am a bit late for my first colonoscopy, for a variety of reasons.  I'm a believer in the value of colonoscopies, and given the rising cancer rates in young people, I now think the first colonoscopy should come before age 50.

But as I think about my own experience, I do understand why many people will put off their first colonoscopy.  Even with my jobs that are more flexible and forgiving than jobs I've had in the past, the prep work takes some consideration, more so than, say, a mammogram.  There's the liquid fast and the medications to clear out the system.  I feel lucky that I got to have pills instead of the liquid medication.  My spouse had an even more involved prep time that took the better part of a week.  And for the procedure itself, it requires a day off, since the patient can't drive afterward.

I've been talking about health care concerns with a friend who is having a hip replaced.  She is single, so finding the people to help her afterward is tricky.  She resents the notion that we all have family networks to help.  I resent the idea that family networks can pitch in the way we are expected to.  Actually, let me be more clear--I resent the capitalist system that makes all of this so hard.

The process itself hasn't been as hard for me as a patient as I expected.  I was dreading the liquid fast yesterday even more than the clearing out of the system.  I can get irritable when I'm hungry or headachy.  And I haven't been allowed to have anything for headaches for a week now (Tylenol is allowed, but Tylenol has never touched any pain I've ever had, so I'm not risking liver or kidney damage).

But the fast wasn't bad.  I kept myself busy and drank lots of liquids and I feel O.K. this morning.  That said, I'm looking forward to being done with this--and glad that I'm not juggling work and family demands on top of everything else.

Thinking about CPE

This summer, starting June 9, I will be doing Clinical Pastoral Education at the Asheville VA Hospital.  It's another requirement on the path to ordination, and like so many of the requirements, I find myself with more paperwork to fill in.  Since it's the VA, there are some new elements.  I got an e-mail with instructions about how to log into the system so that I could fill in more paperwork.

When I was let go from my job in 2022, I did similar setting up to be able to get unemployment compensation.  There's a system, ID.me, that I used then and needed to use yesterday.  Happily, I still have the same cell phone number that I used then, and after a few glitches, I finally got logged in--only to discover that it transcribed only half my last name into the first form I needed to fill out.  So I clicked on the button to tell the VA about the mistake along with a photo of my driver's license to show my legal last name.  And now I wait to be able to continue with the forms.  Happily, there is time.

I don't know what to expect in terms of the weekly CPE schedule.  Will it be like a 9 to 5 job where I report to an office?  Will it be like a chaplain job where I spend time going to hospital rooms and talking to patients?  Will there be papers to write and/or debriefing sessions?  Will the schedule vary, with some overnight duties?

I don't know, so I haven't signed up for any volunteer duties at Lutheridge, and I'm trying to get some stuff done before CPE starts--some doctor visits (and a colonoscopy tomorrow), some sorting, some chores.

I also wonder if I'll have my own office.  Probably not.  Will I have a desk or a locker where I can keep things?  Will there be a place to heat up my beans and barley?  It's the meal that I take whenever I'm reporting to a place for a period of time that means I need to bring food to eat.  If I need to leave stuff locked in the car, I can do that.

When my parents were in town for the Lutheridge celebration in early May, we drove over to see the campus.  The Asheville VA Hospital looks lovely from the outside, more like a small college campus than a modern hospital.  The parking lots that stretched across the back of the property were mostly empty on a rainy Saturday afternoon, and I have no idea if they are ever filled.  Once they must have been.

I've been told that the Asheville VA Hospital is a great place to work and a great place to get care, and I hope that's true.  I've been told only good things about the CPE program there.  I'm looking forward to finding out more for myself.

Placing Book Orders for College Classes in an Age of AI

Yesterday was a day of taking care of small tasks:  ordering books for fall classes at Spartanburg Methodist College, importing syllabi for fall online classes and then putting dates in the syllabus for my online class that starts in late June, picking up prescriptions, reviewing the instructions to get ready for my Thursday colonoscopy, and on and on.

My spouse has been feeling under the weather, so we shifted menu plans, and I made a pot of chicken and dumplings, one of the better ones I've ever made.  I am now convinced that I can only make fluffy dumplings with a biscuit cutter and hand mixing.  The food processor makes the rubberiest dumplings.

In the late afternoon, I went to a neighborhood friend's house for a dinner of snacks and wine (one of my favorite kinds of dinner) and sketching, while her spouse was at church council meeting.  It was the perfect way to end the day.

This morning, I find myself thinking about the Norton Anthology of  British Literature, more specifically, of the 3 volumes that cover the second half of the survey course.  I spent part of the week-end rereading Michael Cunningham's The Hours and watching the film and thinking about Virginia Woolf.  Mrs. Dalloway is now in the anthology, in its entirety.  When I studied British Lit in undergraduate school in the 1980's, Woolf's reputation was in the process of changing.  But at the time, she wasn't always seen as important, particularly not her fiction writing; feminists did prioritize her nonfiction writing on how hard it is to be a woman writer.

I remember when Mary Shelley's Frankenstein was first included in the Norton, somewhere at the turn of the century.  Now we don't have Frankenstein, but instead her novel, The Last Man.  So I ordered Frankenstein in a separate volume.

This morning I wondered how grad studies might have changed.  Would we still spend the same amount of time on Wordsworth and Coleridge?  Is Frankenstein seen as more important, the gateway to much that is modern?  And more sobering, to think about how removed I am from literary scholarship, that I'm probably asking the wrong questions.

I am looking forward to teaching these works again. I will probably not spend much time on the last 40 years, particularly as Norton enlarged the scope to include all sorts of countries that used to be colonies, which makes the topic unmanageable.  We will do a deep dive into post World War II lit and end by thinking about whether or not these topics (fear of nuclear annihilation, seeing an increasing concentration on human rights for more groups, who will rule the world now) are still relevant.  

For decades now, when I got to make my own textbook choices, I've gone with no book.  This year, as I've been reading Maggie Smith's Dear Writer:  Pep Talks and Practical Advice for the Creative Life, I decided to use it in my English 100 and 101 classes.  I'm not sure exactly how yet.  For those first year writing classes, I still plan to do a lot with trees and observing nature.  But some of the chapters in the book will make a great contribution to the class and to their experiences as first year college students--at least, that's my hope.

Last night, at my neighborhood friend's house, we talked about AI and teaching and how life is changing.  I'm glad that when it comes to teaching, I'm in a place where I have a lot of latitude.  All of my colleagues are distressed about AI and how students use it to avoid doing the work of being a student, and we're all experimenting with different ways to engage students.  

I feel lucky to be part of a liberal arts college at such a time as this.

Setting Summer Intentions

A week ago, I would be getting ready for graduation.  We planned to leave at 11:30, which we did, and it was a good thing, because there wasn't much parking left at the Cathedral when we pulled into the parking garage.

This morning, as I was thinking about that, I was also thinking about the upcoming summer, about how one week has already slipped away.  I want to set up some good practices so that I end the summer not having frittered it all away.  I am thinking about using a sketchbook as a journal to record calorie counts, exercise, writing, and to make a daily sketch or a daily observation.  I recently came across one that I kept in the past, one that I had forgotten that I kept.  It was interesting to thumb through it again, the vague memories becoming sharper.

I want to see if keeping a daily journal might help me be more accountable.  Will I write more?  Will I make healthier food and drink choices?  Can I get back to a habit of quick sketches?

Of course, the disadvantage is that I end up with another notebook to store.  The advantage to journaling electronically is that I don't have boxes and boxes of journals.  But I am sure that I don't write as often, because I need to have the laptop up.  It's easier to have a sketchbook on my lap than the laptop if my spouse and I are watching TV.

I also have new New Year's intentions on the brain, which are still my intentions, which I can still do, if I get back to consistency:

--20 days of strength training each month, which I am interpreting loosely:  squats would be strength training, as would weight lifting, as would leg lifts

--having 52 publishable poems at the end of the year, not just an assortment of rough drafts

--getting better at sketching the human form, particularly faces, hands, and feet.

I am going to add one more intention, at least for the summer:

--keeping track of calories consumed, with a goal of 1200 to 1500 calories a day; I'm not going to count fruit, vegetable, and bean calories, in the hopes that I will eat more of them if they don't count towards the total.  I'd like to drop some of the weight I gained since 2020.  I plan to drink less.  Tracking it all will keep me accountable.

Confirmation Class by Old-Fashioned U.S. Mail

I've been approaching Confirmation in a variety of ways.  The most traditional way has been the Sunday School format.  Decades ago, when I did Confirmation as a student, we had regular Sunday School class and then we met again for afternoon Confirmation class, followed by evening youth group.  Those days are not these days.

Even if the families were willing to return to church, we don't have that many youth for activities.  But I'm not living in the area, so even if the families were willing, I can't do it. I need to be back at my house in the NC mountains so that I can go to my teaching job in Spartanburg on Monday mornings.

I've also been hesitant to do a lot of Confirmation because I thought a new pastor might be coming soon, and I didn't want to overstep.  But now it's become clear that a new pastor isn't coming soon, so when we finished our study of the sacraments, I decided to move into a discussion of the creeds.  In the fall, if I'm still Synod Appointed Minister, we'll explore the 10 Commandments and then do a bit of Bible study in the spring.

I wasn't at church on May 11 because I was out of town for graduation.  But I wanted to give my students an assignment.  I decided to have the students mail them to me--a bonus, that I get mail, but also, they had additional incentive to do it.  

For our May 4 class, I gave them three sheets of paper and a stamped envelope addressed to me.  On one sheet of paper, I had them write God, on the second Jesus, and on the third, Holy Spirit.  I told them that the assignment was to draw or write or collage what they thought of when they heard these words and thought about these aspects of our Triune God.

I wasn't sure what to expect.  Would they even mail the envelopes to me?  I'm happy to report that they did.

I'm not going to post pictures because I said I wouldn't share their pictures.  But they are delightful, and they make me think that children in our churches are understanding far more than we might give them credit for.  And I want to remember that I, too, might be a more effective Confirmation teacher than I give myself credit for.

Sorting for a New Season

It is oddly warm here in the mountains, much more like summer than mid-spring.  It reminds me of childhood summer nights at my grandparents' house in Greenwood, SC, where I would wake up in the middle of the night to realize the night had gotten slightly cool-ish.  The streetlight coming in through the window of my current mountain house reminds me of the big light that illuminated my grandparents' back yard.

I am in the middle of shifting my schedule, in part because of the heat, but mostly because of all the construction and tree/lot clearing around Lutheridge.  I need to get out for a walk before the men and their heavy earth moving equipment swing into action.  Yesterday I walked just after 6 a.m., and it was much more peaceful.  It's a walking time that will work throughout summer.

The problem with this plan is that I might not get back to writing.  Yesterday I had an ear appointment at 9, so any writing time I had was effectively over once I went for my walk.  I need to get back to writing before sunrise, instead of doing the internet zipping around that I usually do.

I am doing CPE this summer, and I need to use this time wisely, so that I have good practices in place by the time it starts on June 9.  I woke up thinking about the stacks of books that could be boxed and taken to my school office eventually.  They aren't necessarily the books that bring me comfort or the books that I want to have access to as the house remodel continues--in other words, it won't be like my office at the places I worked in South Florida.  But it would get them out of the way, and it would let me postpone making a decision on their final destination.  There are books of theology that I might want to let go of now, if I could figure out where to send them.  I do realize that if I don't want them, it's unlikely that they will find a good home.  

One last thing I want to remember from the past two weeks.  After the Create in Me retreat, I had a bag full of yarn that people had brought for projects and didn't want to take home.  Our local library has a basket of free yarn, so I unloaded our contributions to the basket.  A woman had been lingering, and she said, "My daughter has her eye on your yarn. She and her sister crochet and knit, and their teenage budgets can't afford much new yarn." 

I said, "Let me scoot over, so you can start seeing what's here. Take as much as you want."  I also offered her the plastic knitting needles that someone had left on my Create in Me table.

The teenager took the plastic knitting needles and much of the yarn, and I ended up giving her the reusable grocery bag that I had used to transport the yarn.  She acted like I had given her a gift of gold, and that reaction made me so happy.  

It's good to remember that my castaways might be someone else's treasure, and I can't always be sure of what will be what:  treasure, extra garbage, useful or not.  As I shift into the next season, let me remember.

One Hundred Years of "Mrs. Dalloway"

I'm a bit later to my daily blogging than usual.  In part, it's because I slept a bit later.  In part, it's because I fell down a bit of an internet rabbit hole when I discovered that it's the 100th anniversary of the publishing of Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway--yes, 100 years ago on this very day, May 14.  

I really enjoyed the essays on Lithub, particularly this one which talked about teaching the book to today's students and this one which talked about reading the book before and after the pandemic:  "Emre, who worked on The Annotated Mrs. Dalloway in 2020, says the endeavor was an especially apt pandemic project: 'It’s a novel that is registering the aftershocks of a moment of unprecedented mass death. It is deeply preoccupied with different systems of keeping time after it feels like there has been a massive historical rupture in the world.'”

Reading the essays made me think about Michael Cunningham's The Hours, both the first time I read it when I was commuting by public transit to my teaching job at the University of Miami in 2001, and the last time that I read it in 2017, which I talked about in this blog post.  I found his braiding of three narratives so compelling.  I started thinking of my own braided narrative, but in the end, I only wrote one of the braids, and I wrote it like a traditional novel.

At this point in my narrative, you might be expecting publication information, but I never published it, and I'm not sure I ever sent it out.  I reread it years ago, and a friend read it more recently and wondered why I never did anything with it.  I was discouraged and tired.  It was about a poet in her 40's who enters into a partnership with a younger musician/poet, and the whole thing blossomed into a love story, which delighted me, but also aggravated me because all of my novels turn into love stories, even when I plan differently.  I stopped writing my apocalyptic novel in part because it was turning into a love story, but also in part, because I was scaring myself with plot details that were coming true.

Now I am thinking of new projects, a new narrative that might weave the voice of an older woman in seminary, a younger woman teaching section after section of freshman comp in a community college, a middle aged woman struggling to write poems around the edges of her administrator job--and yes, they would all be me.

I am also thinking of a new novel that could use all the old novels I have that aren't published.  I am intrigued by the idea of cutting and pasting bits into a new manuscript, a collage that I suspect I wouldn't be able to make coherent.

But first, let me reread Mrs. Dalloway and The Hours.  I've spent time this morning ordering various copies through my delightful public library.  Now that I'm done with seminary, I'm looking forward to having time to read different delights, to think about my creative writing differently (or even, just to do more creative writing).

Graduation Recap

Yesterday at the end of graduation, I said to one of my professors that I didn't think I would have many more experiences that were that meaningful in my remaining years on the earth.  My professor started to protest, and then we looked at each other, and she said, "You're probably right."  A graduation ceremony in the national cathedral, a graduation where we were lifted up and affirmed before being sent out into the world to do the work we're called to do--no, it won't get much better than that.

I knew that my graduation would be livestreamed, and I hoped that it would be available as a recording too.  Hurrah--it is!  You can view it here, and be sure to watch the benediction at the end, at hour 1, minute 58.  It was the most passionate benediction that I've ever seen, and I felt so blessed--not in the "Have a blessed day" kind of blessed, but the "I am casting a spell of protection over you as I give you your marching orders" kind of blessed.

We got to the cathedral in plenty of time, and there were still parking places left in the parking garage.  I took leave of my family to go wait in the Joseph of Arimathea chapel.  We stood in alphabetical order and waited and waited for it to be time to walk to the back of the cathedral.  

It was great to have that downtime before graduation, a chance to chat with my fellow students.  I reconnected with a student who invited me to go to a Carolyn Forche reading with her in the spring of 2023 (I wrote this blog post about it).  We talked about how rewarding it had been to be in classes, instead of learning on our own.  Before I went to seminary, I wondered if I couldn't just accomplish a similar amount of learning if I bought a lot of books and read them.  Perhaps I could have come up with something similar, but I wouldn't have been able to replicate the insights that came from professors and fellow students.

At first my heart fell a bit when I saw the program; it shouldn't come as a surprise when a seminary graduation is more like a worship service.  I was happy that all of the presentations and acceptance speeches and the main speech were so compelling.  More than once I reflected on how grateful I am to have been part of a seminary that is so committed to social justice, to diversity, to acceptance, to being a faithful and powerful witness in the heart of the nation's capital.

Soon it was time to get our diplomas.  We went to wait our turn, and then, suddenly, there's my name being called, and I made my way across the platform.  We got our actual diplomas, and I was happy that my name was correct--no reason that it shouldn't be, but it's more common that some part of my name is misspelled than that various entities get it right.

We got our fiery benediction, and off we went, out into the cloudy afternoon.  I was grateful that the rain held off, grateful that I was able to find my family, and so, so grateful that I was in a space where I could be fully present.  I didn't have a boss who told me that I couldn't go or who said that I needed to check in.  All of my jobs have been at a stopping point, a serendipity that I couldn't have engineered any more perfectly.

We ate dinner at Millie's, which had a synchronicity that delighted me.  During my first walk as a seminary resident, I discovered Millie's and came back for an ice cream--that became my occasional treat.  My sister and I ate there a few times.  The first time I had the steak salad, it was amazing.  It hasn't been that wonderful since, but I was happy to have it one last time with my family:  salads and wine and a dessert that a fellow student had sent to us.  What an expansive generosity yesterday we experienced yesterday!

At the end of the day, my spouse gave me a gift that he picked out at the cathedral gift shop:  beautiful blue prayer beads on a bracelet, with a charm that contains a small bit of paper with a Bible verse that reminds me not to worry.  I think of how many worries I've had about seminary:  could I do the work, would I have enough internet bandwidth, could I maintain all the kinds of balance I want to maintain?

I am glad to have the answers to those questions.

I am happy to have this diploma, this degree completed.

Graduation Morning

It is graduation morning, a day which may have seemed improbable years ago, before Covid, before seminaries started experimenting with distance learning, before higher education began its long and then sudden decline, before, before, before.

I have earned an MDiv from Wesley Theological Seminary, and later today, I'll participate in the graduation ceremony that happens in the National Cathedral.  It starts at 2, and you could watch from a distance by way of this livestream link:  https://youtube.com/live/hAGLcoosBYo?feature=share

I am not sure what to expect, beyond the usual:  lots of folks in caps and gowns, walking across some sort of stage to get a diploma.  I have participated in many graduations, but rarely as the one getting the diploma.

I have sensible shoes, and I'll wear the olive skirt with the pockets, not the black but pocketless skirt that would blend with the gown better.  I am not nervous about the graduation ceremony.  I'm not speaking, after all.  My family will park the car, and I'm hoping we'll be early enough that they can get a space in the parking garage.

Because the Eucharist ceremony was on Thursday, we've spent several days here in the DC area, days with family members, precious time.  Some of us have been in a local hotel, sharing space with lots and lots of soccer players who are in town for various championship games.  This morning, I'm hearing sniffling and sneezing and hoping it's just allergies.  I have avoided airline flights for a variety of reasons, but belatedly, I'm thinking about the risks of crowded hotels.  We haven't lingered in common spaces or crowded spaces, so hopefully we'll be O.K.

I'm thinking about the last time I stayed in this hotel, back in October for the onground intensive week.  At that time, it seemed more populated by business travelers.  I remember feeling so exhausted, not just from the intensive work, but also from the cumulative fatigue that comes from having a natural disaster fall on one's head.

It's good to remember that it hasn't all been easy. I still feel a bit weird, like people are making too much fuss over me.  After all, I've enjoyed my classes and most of the work felt like it came naturally to me.  But as I think about this 4 year journey, I am reminded of all the ways it has taken perseverance.  It's good to celebrate these milestones.

The Perfect French Meal

If you came here hoping for a Mother's Day post, I wrote a somewhat untraditional post for my theology blog--and of course, I've written many a post in the past.  In my younger years, I thought about gender and nurturing more; these days I'm thinking about being a wise female elder.  Am I one already?  If not, what should I be doing to prepare?

This year, I'm thinking about gender and getting older and career shifts or maybe not a shift as much as additions.  I'm having these thoughts because I'm graduating from Wesley Theological Seminary with an MDiv.  And yet, even though I'm graduating, I'm not moving directly to ordination.  Because I went to a Methodist seminary, I have some Lutheran course work to do, along with other requirements.

Still, this graduation feels like a big step to me.  And we've had an extended celebration time.  Unlike most seminaries that have a worship service one day and graduation the next, Wesley has a Eucharist service on Thursday, and then graduation on Monday.

When I realized we'd have so much extra time, we (meaning me, my sister, my spouse, my mom) thought about what might be fun.  We had planned to go to the Museum of African-American History, but that trip was rained out.  Yesterday we went to my mom's favorite French restaurant for lunch--happily, we didn't have to miss that appointment.  We spent a delightful afternoon at L'Auberge Chez Francoise.

I've only been there once before, to celebrate a parental anniversary.  It was great to return.  Yesterday they had one lunch seating, so we didn't feel rushed at all.  We did the 4 course prix fixe meal, which at first seemed expensive, but then I started thinking about how much I often pay for a meal out, and it felt more reasonable.  

We had a noon reservation, and we left at 3--delightful!  I decided to go with the beef tenderloin, a dish that I'm least likely to make at home, a dish that would be similarly expensive if I made it myself.  Before that dish, we had an amuse bouche of split pea soup, the best split pea soup I've ever had.  We had an assortment of appetizers.  

While I enjoyed my coquille of seafood, my spouse's tiny pot of wagu beef cheeks in a mushroom sherry gravy was amazing--like pot roast elevated to gastronomical perfection.  

There were plates of bread and beautiful salads.  I often don't like the ubiquitous mesclun mix, but yesterday's salad was yummy.  Later we found out that they grew the greens on site, which probably explains their yumminess.

Everyone's main course looked fabulous; I'm sure I could have been happy with any of it.  I didn't take as many pictures of later courses--it was great to live in the moment without trying to document it all.  We finished with dessert--also a place where everyone's choice looked delicious.  I have no regrets about yesterday's meal, which is not usual for me with a restaurant meal.

Many people will be eating out today as they celebrate mothers.  I'm glad we chose to go yesterday instead.  Today the restaurant will have 4 seatings instead of 2; something essential will be lost, although the diners probably won't notice.

I am so glad to have had yesterday's experience:  glad to have been able to find a time when we could all go, glad to have been able to afford it, glad that the restaurant survived the various challenges of the past decade.

Prayers of Blessing at a Seminary Eucharist Service

Yesterday was an even more interesting juxtaposition of events than I thought that we would have when I first wrote a blog post in the morning.  In the morning, I learned of the death of Martha Silano.  In a way, it wasn't a surprise.  I knew of her ALS diagnosis, and her latest poems showed how quickly the disease was progressing.  Here is her May 3 Facebook post:  “If I could eat just one sliver of Genoa salami … and maybe a bite of crispy bagel …. I’d give back every poem I’ve ever written.”

Those words have haunted/inspired me in the days since, the idea that we never know when the things we enjoy might become unavailable to us, because of disease or the forces of history or the lack of time or tariffs or any other reason we want to plug in.  I think of all the times when I've been worried about something (weight gain or would I have enough money to pay the bills or would a teaching schedule come through or why did someone wrinkle their face a weird way which might mean that they are annoyed with me) when I should have been cherishing the moment in a different way, a savoring the richness way.

I thought of Martha Silano at lunch.  My mom, dad, spouse, and I had gone up to Fredericksburg, MD, and we ate at The Wine Kitchen.  It was the perfect day to enjoy their patio seating that overlooked the Carroll Creek, which had a vibe that was both commercial and natural; the weather was perfect with a light breeze, and it was shady.  They had a lunch special that included a glass of wine.  I had the glass of wine for many reasons:  because it went so well with the mushroom strudel, because it was a good deal, because it was part of a perfect lunch.  In my head, I made a toast to Martha Silano and all the wise ones who have reminded me that we need to enjoy life as we can, in all the ways that we can.

During the afternoon, we found out that we have a new pope.  There was some time in the afternoon between lunch and leaving for seminary for the Eucharist service, and I did some reading.  Pope Leo seems like an interesting choice (a Chicago native who spent so many years in Peru that he became a naturalized citizen of Peru).

And then we headed down to D.C.  We left early, because one can never be sure about rush hour traffic.  We got there a bit early, but that was good, because I could get the tickets my family will need to get into the graduation ceremony.  There was a moment when the person in charge of tickets looked at the list, and I felt this fear that maybe I wasn't on the list, that maybe there was some requirement I had forgotten.  Happily, that fear was ungrounded.  I got the tickets, and we went to the chapel.

It was wonderful to sit in the chapel, being surrounded by classmates and family members.  I was touched by how many people remembered me from my brief time living on campus; a few people could still call me by name.  The Eucharist service included a blessing of graduates-to-be by individual faculty members.  We waited in a line, and as each person was free, we processed to them.  I felt lucky to be blessed and prayed over by a faculty member whom I liked:  I took both her Ethics class and her Stories of Power class.  Some of the faculty members I didn't know, and I wondered how that prayer would have been--much more generic, I imagine.

My prayer/blessing included mention of me as a Literature professor, as someone who inspires good in the world, as someone who is both confident but with humility.  I found myself wishing I could have recorded it in some way.

But then I thought about how much I have recorded, which often means I'm not truly in the moment.  I tried to concentrate on staying present and tried not to think about how much concentration it takes to stay present with the moment.

There was a reception afterwards, with heavy appetizers, which made our evening meal.  We ended with a glass of wine each back at the hotel, a wonderful end to a wonderful day.

We live in a time where everyone uses the word "blessed" so much that it seems stripped of meaning:  "How are you today?"  "Blessed"--or "Have a blessed day."  But I really do feel blessed, along with the guilt that comes along with that.  Why do I get to enjoy a day like yesterday when a talented poet like Martha Silano does not get a longer time on the earth?  Even theological thinkers have some trouble with that question.

In the end, let me just remember that if we're lucky, we have good days, and the good days aren't a sure thing.  Let me remember to live with intention, to seek out the good days, to arrange my life so that good days are more likely.

Contemplating Julian of Norwich During Graduation Week

Today is the feast day of Julian of Norwich, at least for Lutherans, Episcopalians, and Anglicans; Catholics will celebrate on May 13. Tonight I will go back to my seminary campus for the Eucharist service for students who are graduating with their Masters degrees, and there's a dinner and reception afterward.  How wonderful to be celebrated this way!

And how different from how Julian of Norwich has been celebrated, or ignored, through the centuries.  She was alive from roughly 1343 to 1416, a tumultuous time with the Black Death making its first appearance in England and a revolt of peasants that spread across the country.  She lived in Norwich, which was a center of commerce and a center of religion.  

I've been interested in Julian of Norwich for a long time.  When I first started teaching the British Literature survey class in 1992, the Norton Anthology had just added her to the text used in so many survey classes.  Why had I not heard of her before?  After all, she was the first woman writing in English, at least the first one whose writing we still have.

My students and I found her writing strange, and I found her ideas compelling.  She had a series of visions, which she wrote down, and spent her life elaborating upon. She wrote about Christ as a mother--what a bold move! After all, Christ is the only one of the Trinity with a definite gender. She also stressed God is both mother and father. Here in the 21st century, we're still arguing about gender and Julian of Norwich explodes the gender binary and gives us a vision of God the Mother, God the Wife--and it's not the Virgin Mary, whom she also sees in her visions.

Her visions showed her that God is love and compassion, an important message during the time of the Black Death.  She is probably most famous for this quote, "All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well," which she claimed that God said to her. It certainly sounds like the God that I know too.

Although she was a medieval mystic, her work seems fresh and current, even these many centuries later. How many writers can make such a claim?

A few years ago, I read her complete works, which I didn't enjoy as much as I thought I would.  The writing seemed circular, coming back to many ideas again and again, with lots of emphasis on the crucified, bleeding Jesus, lots of focus on suffering and sin. The excerpts that most of us read, if we read her at all, are plenty good enough.  I was both disappointed to discover that, and yet happy.

Not for the first time, I wonder what's been lost to history in terms of writing. If she was thinking about some of these explosive ideas, might others have been even more radical? What happened to them?

I'm grateful that we have her work--at least there's something that gives us a window into the medieval mind, which was more expansive than we usually give credit for.  And I'm grateful that so many people have discovered her in the decades since the Norton Anthology first included her.

I'll keep her in mind today, as I participate in ancient rituals, like Communion, that she, too, celebrated.  I'll keep her in mind as I discern next steps on the path.  My path would seem as strange to her as hers does to me--although I will confess that the cell of an anchoress/anchorite is appealing on some days.  I love the idea of ancient church rites and rituals that connect us across centuries--may they continue!