A Buerre Blanc Break

I have moved from the final grading phase to the final papers that need to be written phase.  And then I will move to the sermon writing phase and back to the final grading phase--this time, for the online classes that I teach.  But today will be the day I get the rough drafts complete for the two papers that are due tomorrow.

Yesterday I took some time out from paper writing and helped cook lunch.  I bought some rainbow trout on Monday, and we wanted to do something different than the stuffed trout that we often do.  So we decided on a buerre blanc sauce.  I want to record the recipe, while I'm still remembering it.  It was phenomenally easy and even better, it was quick.  It is not low on calories, however, or saturated fat.  And because it is so delicious, I ate a lot of it.  But it was the main source of calories for the meal, so I feel less bad about it.  I wouldn't want to make this sauce on a day of heavy meals.

Ingredients:

9 tablespoons cold, unsalted butter, divided
3 tablespoons shallots, finely chopped
3 tablespoons dry white wine
2 1/2 tablespoons white wine vinegar or lemon juice
1/3 cup heavy cream

a few grinds of salt and pepper

chopped fresh herbs are delicious too--I used sage

we also used the zest of half a lemon

Here's what we did:

We browned the shallots in 1 T. of butter and then added the wine and the lemon juice and let them reduce a bit.  We added the cream and the rest of the butter in chunks, whisking after each chunk.

The classic French approach calls for straining the sauce, but we didn't, and it was delicious.  And I do realize that the classic French approach doesn't use cream.

Routes to Erasure/Collage Poems

This morning I've fallen down a bit of a rabbit hole.  Dave Bonta's Poetry Blog Digest for this week led me to a blog post by Sarah J. Sloat which led me to some of her more recent publications of erasure collage poems.  She's been working with Thoreau's Walden, which made me think about doing something similar with Shelley's Frankenstein.

I decided to look for a cheap copy of Frankenstein, which led me down another rabbit hole.  It would probably be easier to use the copy machine, the way I did for an earlier project, where I used the book Megatrends (for more on that process, see this blog post).

Here is the poem alone, before blacking out passages:

Here is the poem with blacked out passages

I woke up thinking about Frankenstein, about ways I might teach my British Lit class even if I'm off campus for some of the teaching days.  I woke up thinking about online discussion posts, but now I'm thinking about a collage/erasure poem.  Now I'm thinking about a wide range of projects that could use erasure and collage.  It's an interesting way of thinking about assessment:  choose a page, make an erasure poem, add collage elements, and write analysis showing how your creation shows understanding of the work.

I spent much of yesterday grading, and much of the grading was English 102 final exams, which had students write about what went well, what could be improved, and one suggestion.  I was surprised by how many people loved the quilting bee that I created (more information in this blog post).  Even counting for the possibility/probability that some of them included this thinking that's what I wanted to hear, the enthusiasm seemed genuine, and it was an enthusiasm that I didn't always perceive on the day of the event.  Many of them said they wished they could have more hands-on ways of learning that way, less lecturing/discussing.

I also wonder if I could have them act out a scene, in lieu of writing about a piece of literature.  I keep thinking about last week's experiment with the final exam being more oral than written, and I wonder if I could create more opportunities like that.  I'm always on the lookout for assessment that's more genuine, more creative, and less able to be done completely by AI.  

I hadn't thought about collage/erasure poems as a way of doing that.  Let me tuck it away for next year.  As of right now, my grades are turned in, and my teaching work for Spartanburg Methodist College is done.

Some Last Thoughts on Retreats; Last Weeks at Seminary

Here we are, the last week of April, the last week of seminary classes--wow.  Let me capture a few fragments from the past week-end.

--It was a great Create in Me retreat.  Closing worship was very moving, and I'm really glad that I rearranged my schedule to be able to stay.  I also helped with clean up, and then I got to spend the afternoon with a Create in Me friend who had flown in from Minnesota.  Her plane didn't leave until 7:45 p.m., so we had time to go to Sierra Nevada for lunch and a wander through their gardens and to pop by the Asheville Herb Festival at the Ag center.  We came back to my house, chatted some more, and then she took a nap on the sofa while I looked through resources for my seminary paper that's due on Thursday.

--I enjoy the retreat because of the wealth of supplies and the chance to create in mediums both familiar and new to me.  But I love the chance to catch up with friends.  Many of them I see only once or twice a year, but they are the kind of friends whom I would trust with my life.

--As I moved through the week-end, conversations swirled around me, which is part of the nature of the retreat:  one works at a table while others talk nearby, and sometimes, it's me doing the talking.  I was surprised by how many people have lost loved ones to Covid in the past few years.  I continue to be surprised by how many non-Covid deaths have been the "loved one was fine and then dropped dead suddenly."  I realize I'm getting old, and therefore, I'm more likely to have people in my orbit who die, both suddenly and in a prolonged way.

--As we wrapped up, someone asked me if they could have the butterfly that I made for my drop-in station as a sample.  I had left it at the gallery display area.  I was happy to give it away, and she acted so, so happy that I gave it to her.  That, in turn, made me even happier.

--I was able to get to yoga each morning.  We started with a song which is really a Psalm, 51:  1-2 and 10-12, and we learned some stretching moves to go along with them.  We also used the Graham Kendrick song.  All last night, these words were singing through my brain :  "Have mercy on me Oh God, according to your unfailing love, according to your great compassion, Blot out my transgressions, wash me away all my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin."

--Today will be a day of more grading than paper writing.  My Spartanburg Methodist College grades are due tomorrow, and I hope to have them all turned in today.  There should be time for a walk each day.

--Even though I have a lot to get done this week, it will feel more leisurely, since I'm not driving to Spartanburg each day.

The Last Day of the Create in Me Retreat

Today is the last day of the Create in Me retreat.  Unlike some years, I will participate in closing worship--hurrah!  I don't have a long drive back to Florida--hurrah!  I am still a Synod Appointed Minister, and unlike last year, I felt it was fine to be away this year--hurrah!

Unlike some years, I'm deeply aware that I want to believe that I will have the opportunity to be at closing services year after year--but life is much more tenuous so I should not miss out on this time.  And more to the point, the same group of retreat friends can't always be there each year, so this year, I wanted to make sure to be there.  It's a final worship service that moves me deeply, unlike the last day of Quilt Camp, which is a bit of sewing and then packing up (the closing worship is done the last evening).

This year's Create in Me has been wonderful.  I've gone to yoga every morning, which makes me realize I should start each day with stretching.  I also went for a walk with the yoga teacher on Thursday just before the retreat began and yesterday.

I have done a variety of creative activities:  sewing, painting, creating shadowboxes, making windchimes, writing, predominantly.  I've loved having a variety of activities and more supplies than I could use in a lifetime.  I love being with others who are creating.  I have loved being away from the TV and the news.

But the main focus of the last few days has been the opportunity to be with old friends and new, to catch up, to talk deeply.  I remember a time when this retreat was one of the few times in a year when I was with people who could talk about the intersections of faith and creativity.  Happily, now I have these discussions much more frequently.  But I still enjoy having these conversations, and these people are some of my favorite ones with which to do just that.

The Start of the Create in Me Retreat

Yesterday was a topsy-turvy day, but in a good way.  It's a time of transition:  I'm no longer driving to Spartanburg every day, but I still have teaching responsibilities (grading and checking e-mail periodically).  The Create in Me retreat started last night, but I was in my study for my favorite seminary class.  

Still, I had time to set up my drop in station.

Here's a close up of the kind of creatures we might make:

I have a table for cloth and batting.  At the end of the retreat, I suspect I will have a lot of sorting to do--not all of these scraps are worth keeping.

This retreat is different from the Quilt Camp retreat.  There are more activities, and I'm already a bit tired.  We've already done some worship planning and set up, but there's more to do.  

This display area is empty now, but it will soon be filled with our creations.  Like much of this retreat, it seems a larger metaphor is hiding in plain sight.

Favorite Classes

 I've spent all of my adult life as a teacher, and a good chunk of my adult life as a student.  When my American Lit class asked me if they were my favorite students, if they were the best class, I said, "If I made a list of my top 10 or top 20 classes, they would make the list."  Some of my students said, "Top 10 or top 20?"

I let the question go, but the answer would be, "It's complicated."  Should I compare them all, the upper class Brit Lit classes at FAU and the Developmental English classes at Broward Community College, as it was called then?  The students at the Art Institute of Ft. Lauderdale and the students at City College (not the famous one in NYC, but a South Florida health careers kind of school)--both closed now.   I have taught in schools in South Carolina and South Florida, but not many places in between, and those places are very different.  The University of Miami, where I taught for several years, is very different from FAU, which is very different than the local community colleges.

And yet, they are all more similar than different, all these schools where I've taught.  Most of the students are interested in learning, although not all in learning the same things.  All of the students want a better world with better opportunities--until recently, I'd have assumed we all did, whether in school or not.  I still assume that we all want a better world with better opportunities, although some people define that all more narrowly than I once assumed.

For me, what gets a class on my top 10 or 20 list is that I leave the room feeling better than when I came in--and that can happen for a variety of reasons.  I have often left the American Lit class feeling profoundly grateful for being able to teach a literature survey class one more time.  I enjoy teaching Composition too, but I have no doubt that I can do a variety of that kind of teaching until the day I die, or the day that AI becomes capable of doing it.  Literature survey classes have not come my way as an adjunct as often, and with the anti-Humanities feelings these days, it is a wonderful surprise to have the opportunity again.

Tonight I have the second to last class meeting of one of the best classes I've taken as a student, the seminary class that looks at the Christmas and Easter texts without all chapters about the life of Jesus in between.  It's a topic that interests me, but I've taken plenty of classes that interest me.  This class impresses me because of the quality of the discussion; at the end of every class, I always wish that we had more time.

Today is the start of the retreat that means so much to me, the Create in Me retreat.  In the past, when I've had a Thursday night class, I've skipped it to be at the retreat.  Today I won't be at the opening night activities.  Just as with Quilt Camp two weeks ago, I can't bear to miss this class.

I know it could be otherwise, and I am so grateful that my seminary years are ending this way, on a strong note, that makes me wish we had more time.

A Different Approach to a Final Exam

Yesterday I tried an experiment with my Survey of American Literature class.  Let me just say that if they had been a different class, I don't know that I would have done what I'm about to describe.  But they've been a strong group, so I didn't feel as much of a need of a traditional final exam as I have in the past.  And I participated as a student in a similar assessment in a seminary class.

So I told the class that if yesterday went well (and I spelled out what that would look like), they didn't have to write the final exam and turn it in.  Their participation yesterday, which I spelled out, would earn them an A.

Before class yesterday, I had them each write the top 5 works which they think have been most important to help them understand American literature, U.S. history, their moment in time.  Four of the works had to be works we discussed in class, and one could be anything at all.  They had to write the 5 works on a piece of paper, with some notes so that they would be prepared to discuss.

First, I started off with the students in pairs.  I gave each pair a colored sheet of paper, and on this sheet, they had to put the top five of the pair.  For some of them, it was easy; they had the same works on their individual lists.  Other pairs needed to discuss more.  Even the ones who had agreement were having good conversation.

Then I had the pairs move into larger groups, usually 6 students.  They had to once again determine the top 5 of the group.  It got a bit harder, and again, I was happy with the spirited discussions the groups were having.

As they finished, I had them write their lists on the board.

The boards are on opposite sides of the room, and they finished at roughly the same time.  

In other words, they didn't influence each other.

Then I put them in two big groups.  Once again, they had to compile a list of the top five works of the group.  As they did that, I circled the works in the four lists that showed up on every list.  There were only two:  The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and A Raisin in the Sun.

Here are the two final lists from the two big groups:

I also gave them the option of adding another work or two as a runner up--only one group did, adding "Sonny's Blues" to the list. 

We had a concluding conversation which was very good.  I was impressed with the level of participation and the depth of thought.  It was a wonderful way to end the term, and I'm very happy with the results.  

What I most value is that it was clear that they had been thinking about the works we studied and how they all fit together or didn't fit together.  It was clear that they had been doing their own thinking about the literature and the larger issues that the literature did or did not cover.  They didn't just parrot my thoughts back to me, and they didn't seem to be parroting the ideas that are out there coming across various medias.  They listened to each other with enthusiasm and respect.  I was impressed.

Like I said at the beginning, this approach to a final exam wouldn't work with every class.  But I was fairly sure it would work with this class, and the fact that it did makes me so very happy.

Tuesday Fragments with Dystopian Shadows

Today I feel a bit fragmented, which should be a surprise.  I have spent the last week with divided attention:  writing a last paper for seminary class which was due yesterday (and turned in), the endless grading that comes with the end of the semester, Holy Week's extra obligation, and in-laws here for a visit.

And yet, I've done more poetry writing in the last week than I would have thought would happen--hurrah!  Is it because of the evocative nature of Holy Week readings and imagery?  Because I've had more poetry writing as part of my classes as classes wind down?

I am surprised and happy by how my final paper came together--now I need to write a reflection paper, and I'm done with one class.  I have a paper to write for my New Testament class, but it's due on May 1, so I don't feel quite as panicked (panic sure to come).

Today is my last day driving down to Spartanburg every day, so my time opens up in some ways.  It is also a retreat week for me:  my favorite retreat, the Create in Me retreat, starts Thursday.  But because I have class on Thursday night, in some ways it won't really feel like the retreat starts until Friday.

In later years, will I wonder why I didn't write more about the death of Pope Francis?  Will I wonder why I didn't move my money out of the stock market back in December (yes, I already do)?  Will I wonder why I wasn't solidifying plans to move out of the country?

In terms of possible dystopian futures, I'm not sure there's a place to escape to--I don't have lots of money, and I only speak English.  I have some skills, but I don't know if they're transferrable to another country.  Here I have connections and a job and a house that is paid for (for however long that continues to matter).  Much to my surprise, I'm at a liberal arts college that is in much stronger shape than much of higher ed, so I'm not in a hurry to leave.

But dystopian futures are a subject for another day.  Now I need to bring blogging to a close--my in-laws will be here soon to have breakfast and say goodbye.  I need to bake cookies for today's classes.  Let me do the checking that feels endless these days, checking to make sure I haven't forgotten anything.

Last Monday of Ordinary Student Time for Spring Term

It was a good Easter.  We drove across the mountain to Faith Lutheran, where I preach and preside on a very part-time basis as a Synod Appointed Minister.  The energy in the church was happy, and I felt like my sermon went well.  You can view it here.

We drove back home, and in the few hours between our arrival and the arrival of my spouse's brother and his wife, I worked on my paper that is due later today.  This morning I'm almost done with it, and I'm pleased.

My in-laws aren't staying with us, but they're staying close by--one of the advantages of living on the grounds of a church camp.  They arrived, and we had a few hours of catching up and eating dinner.  Then we went with them to their room to make sure they were settled.

My spouse went to bed shortly after we returned, but I decided to stay up and get more work done.  Tonight in my seminary class, I need to present an overview of my paper, so I decided to create a PowerPoint.  

Soon I will head down the mountain to Spartanburg.  Today and tomorrow are my last in-person classes for this semester; they will not be hard because I'm going over my expectations for the final exam, which is a piece of writing.  I still have grading to do, of course.  Next week, I have a half day of meetings/trainings/breakfast and lunch, and graduation on Saturday.

Easter Morning, 2025

If you came to this page, hoping for a theological reflection, I'm happy to provide!  This post at my theology blog will fit the bill nicely.

On this Easter Sunday, I have cleaned the bathrooms--more of a Maundy Thursday task, to be sure, but my Maundy Thursday was consumed with other tasks that kept me away from the house for most of the day.

Later today, my spouse's brother and his wife will be arriving.  Luckily, our residential area is part of a church camp, so we were able to get him a room over there.  We have a sleep sofa in the room which is also where I work, and tomorrow, I need to make a presentation for my seminary class.  Having guests stay with us is just not doable right now.

Later today I will make a cake to go with the rest of the strawberries--yum.  It's not the traditional Easter bunny cake, but it will taste of spring and warmer days ahead. 

Soon we will get in the car and go across the mountain to Faith Lutheran in Bristol, Tennessee, where I will preach and preside.  It feels more leisurely because we didn't have to be there before the service to do Confirmation.

In the middle of all of this, I am also writing my last paper for my Worship and Digital Technology class; I have to make a 10 minute presentation tomorrow evening, which won't be hard, but I also need to be ready to turn in the paper.  Then I have 72 hours to turn in a reflection.

After that assignment, I have two more papers to write and I am done with my MDiv degree.  As when I was in the home stretch of classes for my PhD, I found myself thinking that I might never write an academic paper again.

Let me bring this writing to a close--time to get ready for the day, the more public facing part of the day.

Good Friday Creations

I had planned to have a more spiritual Good Friday.  I looked up the times for the Good Friday services at the National Cathedral.  I wrote them down to remember.

Maybe I will watch them today.  

I kept Good Friday in mind all day, as I did chore after chore, hoping to get ahead.  I went to the eye care place that takes my insurance to see if I could order contact lenses--but more importantly, to see if this insurance has any use at all as we approach the time of annual decisions about whether or not to keep this insurance.

I was able to order contact lenses, but it was clear that the insurance was barely worth it this year, and it will not pay for itself next year.  Later in the morning, I brought my spouse back to the eye care place to order his glasses.  Now we are ready to cancel that insurance that my eye doctor had never seen before.

I wanted to get to the grocery store before it got crowded, and I did.  I wanted to get gas so that we're ready to go to Bristol tomorrow, and I did.  I wanted to create shortcake and whipped cream to go with the beautiful strawberries that I bought on Wednesday, and I did.

I also thought about approaches for Easter.  We will be reading Luke 24: 1-12 for Easter Sunday, and this gives me the perfect opportunity to talk about Mary Magdalene.  On Thursday, I decided to focus my youth sermon on her, and over the next 24 hours I got the idea to make red eggs out of cloth as something to give the youth to remember her:

The eggs aren't perfect, but that's the fine.  I had the red scraps and stuffing on hand, and I enjoyed creating them. 

I wanted to print the picture in color, but the printer wasn't cooperating.  So now, I have a coloring sheet for the youth.  

I ended the day sewing, and I started the day by icing the sugar cookies that I made for my students on Thursday.  I wanted a Good Friday/Passion kind of vibe, and I achieved it:

In short, it was a good day.  And maybe my creating yesterday led to my poem this morning.  It's in process, but here's a bit.

Holy Saturday

The scent of burial spices in my nose,
the last of the death wrappings unbound,
I leave this grave.

The weather, with its wintry insistence,
does not deter me, a daffodil
bulb who has known the earth’s protection.

I weave a web, I weave

a net.  I can catch

what I need for sustenance.

Maundy Thursday with "Graceland" and Treats

Yesterday was a long day, but I knew it would be.  I also knew that I have Good Friday off from both teaching and part-time preaching, so it wasn't as hard as it would be if I had to be getting ready to drive to Spartanburg right now.

My Nonfiction Writing class is spending our last few days listening to music chosen by the class and analyzing it and perhaps writing the last essay as a review of the music or an exploration of the process.  Yesterday was Paul Simon's Graceland, which we listened to straight through with a break for treats that I brought.

I wanted to do some sort of them to the treats, so I made sugar cookies, some in the shape of hearts (much of the album revolves around love) and 4 female-ish shapes (think gingerbread girl with a skirt).  On the female shapes, I put sprinkles on the feet for the song "Diamonds on the Souls of Her Shoes."

I thought about the idea of Graceland, the home of Elvis, and decided to make peanut butter cookies and bring in bananas, because Elvis' favorite snack was peanut butter and banana sandwiches.  The grocery store had the greenest bananas I've seen in awhile, so I got the ripest ones, which would still be too green for people who prefer their bananas ripe.  My students didn't mind.

I had forgotten how wonderful it is to sit and listen to a work of music straight through.  And what a powerful work Graceland is.  I've been listening to it since it first came out in 1986, and I've memorized almost every song.  At times, I had to sit and focus on not crying at the beauty of it.

It was wonderful to listen to the music with my students who were so attentive and so appreciative.  I'm feeling phenomenally lucky this term; all of my classes have been mostly wonderful.  In most semesters, there's a class that is not, with one or more students who are openly combative or dismissive or resistant.

I had a similarly good American Lit class, even though all of our energy is waning.  I told them that I had to let them go a bit early because I had to be in Bristol, Tennessee to preach and preside at Faith Lutheran for Maundy Thursday service at 7 p.m.  Several students said, "You preach too?"  I was happy to be able to quote Walt Whitman to them:  "I contain multitudes."

Then I drove home, typed in the revisions to my sermon, printed it (you can read it here), and we were off to Bristol.  It was a good service (more in this blog post), and while the drive home across the darkening mountains felt long, it was uneventful--unlike the Ash Wednesday drive home which included a fire on the mountain and blowing snow at the higher elevations.

Here, too, I feel fortunate.  I get to do preaching work I love with a great congregation--and I get paid! 

Today will be a quieter Good Friday.  I don't need to be in Bristol, since Good Friday is the one day out of the year where there can be no consecration of the bread--fancy theology talk for "I'm not needed today."  They will have a Good Friday service and a Saturday evening vigil service, and I'll be there on Easter Sunday.  Later in the day on Sunday, my spouse's brother and wife arrive.

I will do some grocery shopping today, some writing, some grading--all the typical Friday things.  I was able to get a room for my in-laws at Lutheridge, so I don't have quite as much prep work to do, but I still need to think about food.  And I have a final paper and presentation for my Monday seminary class, so there's that, too.

I'm in the part of the week-end where the time still feels expansive.  May it continue to be so.

A Poem for Maundy Thursday

Here we are at Maundy Thursday again, the Thursday in Holy Week that celebrates Jesus' last meal before the crucifixion.  I've celebrated in a variety of ways through the years.  Today I'll head down to Spartanburg (South Carolina) to teach, then I'll come home, and we'll go across a different mountain to be with Faith Lutheran Church in Bristol, Tennessee, where I will preach and preside.  It's a busy life, but a good one.

Blogging time is short this morning, so let me post an older poem. I wrote it years ago, I wrote it when my flight was delayed by hours and hours on Maundy Thursday at the Atlanta airport. As I observed the airport and thought about the ancient holiday and my home church, the poem practically wrote itself.  It was published in College English.

Maundy Thursday at Hartsfield


We long for Celestial food, or at least to leave our earthbound
selves behind, but it is not to be. The airport shuts
down as late thunderstorms sweep across the south.
I resign myself to spending Maundy Thursday in the airport.

One of a minority who even knows the meaning of Maundy,
I roam restlessly. I cannot even approximate
a Last Supper—the only food to be had is fast
and disgusting. I think of that distant
Passover, the Last Supper that transformed
us into a Eucharistic people.

A distant outpost of a vast empire, teeming
with a variety of humans, all hurrying
and keeping our heads down: Jerusalem or the modern
airport? I watch my fellow humans, notice
the hunger in their faces, their haunted feet,
so in need of love and water.

I watch Spring Breakers and athletes and moms
and gnarled elders and unattached children, all racing
through their earthly days, hurtling through time,
crossing continents, without any rituals to ground
them. I think of Christ’s radical
agenda: homelessness, care, and listening,
ignoring rules that made no sense,
making scarce resources stretch,
food eaten on the run, a community hunted
by their own and by the alien government.
I miss my own church, by now gathered in a dark
sanctuary, participating in ancient rituals
we don’t fully understand, looking for that thin
place between the sacred and the every day.

Poetry Creation Week in Intro to Lit Courses

This week in my Intro to Lit classes on Monday and Wednesday, we're having a poetry creating week.  On Monday, we experimented with haiku-like creations.  First I tried to have them create a haiku with no inspiration beyond the instruction to create 3 lines in the 5 syllable, 7 syllable, 5 syllable model.  Then we looked at photohaiku (I particularly like the ones at Dave Bonta's Woodrat Photohaiku website).  I brought in 12 photos of my own, printed on regular white paper, and had the students work in groups to create their own photohaiku.  

In the interest of transparency, I'll say that some of them were wonderful and some were, shall we say, not profound.  Some students entered into the exercise fully, while others didn't add as much to their groups.

I told my students that one of the reasons that I scheduled this poetry week when I did was that it didn't require lots of prep work.  Yesterday I laughed, as I was cutting individual lines from my abandoned lines document.  Today, I'll hand every student 4- 6 strips of paper, each with a different line on it, and have them add lines to it.  I have a poetry mad libs kind of assignment to help them generate lines to go with my abandoned lines.  Then we'll tape them all together to see what we get.

It took me 45 minutes yesterday, and I didn't get all the cutting done.  I also rounded up tape dispensers, and today, I'll get to class early so that I can get the tables arranged.

Even though it requires more prep work than I remembered, I'm still glad we'll be doing this today.  As I cut up abandoned lines into slips of paper, I was surprised by some of them--did I really write these?  Yes I did!

I plan to play with those abandoned lines too.  I'm always surprised by the places that these abandoned lines take us.

Here are a few for you to play with too:

Sprout a pair of angel wings from your sturdy spine

This is not the angel song I strained to hear.

Well seasoned skillet and other seductions

Formless prayer beads on a tarnished chain

Overlooked nursery, needled forest floor.

The floors whisper to me of their secrets

Holy Week Tuesday: Taxes, Sermons, Seminary Papers, Poem fragments

Today's reading from Phyllis Tickle's The Divine Hours was the story of Jesus in the Temple overturning the tables of the moneychangers.  She includes a special section for Holy Week, so that part is not as random as it might sound.

Because of where Easter falls this year, today is the day that taxes are due.  In past years, I might not have noticed.  This year, because I knew we were likely to owe money, I didn't do the taxes until later.  I got our payments in the mail yesterday (we owe federal taxes and North Carolina taxes, and we will eventually get money back from South Carolina).  It's astonishing to me that we owe federal taxes, but here we are.  We owe because for 9 months, we had health insurance through the Affordable Care Act, and then my part time job teaching shifted to full time:   good news for long term finances, bad news for taxes.

In the next two days, I need to write a Maundy Thursday sermon.  Ordinarily, that wouldn't be a problem, but I want to make sure that my sermon is different than last year's sermon.  Last year I talked a lot about foot washing.  This year, I'll shift to something else, the idea of the sacrament and how it gives us strength.  At least, that's what I'm thinking right now, before I've really started.

My brain is working on several writing projects.  I have a paper due on Monday, with a presentation to class.  I know what I plan to write.  Unlike my sermon, I've done more thinking and research for that project.  I also have a paper due two weeks from Thursday.

This morning, a happy surprise:  a line of a possible poem floated through my brain, and I opened a blank Word document to write it down.  In the past two hours, more lines have come to me, and I've written them down.  Will they cohere into a poem?  It's too soon to tell, but it's nice to feel that part of my brain click into gear again.

And, of course, there's the end of the semester grading that needs doing.  I'm keeping up, but at times, I feel overwhelmed with all that will happen in the next 4 weeks.  And then, I graduate with my MDiv.  Hurrah!

I am amazed that I am graduating, four years after I started.  It feels like no time at all, but of course, so much has happened.  At one time, in the early days, I thought it might take me six or seven years, or longer.  Of course, in the early days, I had a full-time administrator job, and I wasn't sure that the seminary would offer the classes I needed to take from a distance.

Let me shift gears one more time.  Let me think about going for a walk.  On Sunday, we had a freeze warning, and yesterday, we had record breaking heat.  I'm glad to be able to walk in the beautiful spring blooms.

Non-Quilt Snips from Last Week

Before we get too far away from last week, I want to record a few of the non-quilt happenings of the week.

--On Thursday night, I attended my virtual seminary class.  We all gathered on the Zoom session, as we do each Thursday.  We had some storminess around, but I didn't think much about it.  But as we shifted our discussion to the role of Satan in Holy Week, there was a flash outside that startled me.  I sit in front of my computer, which shows not only me but also the window behind me in the Zoom window.  So, I saw the flash of lightning in several senses:  through the window that was visible and the sliding door that wasn't, but also on my computer.

--As I was about to send a chat message to say that if I lose power, no need to worry, my professor said, "Wow, Kristin, that's some lightning behind you."  I said, "You mention Satan, I provide the special effects!"  We all laughed, my professor said to stay safe, and happily, the storm moved on without any harm.

--I got all my grading done.  For one brief moment, I was caught up.

--One of my American Lit students sent me an e-mail thanking me for teaching with fire and passion and inspiring a love of American Literature that no other teacher had ever been able to do.  It felt genuine, and it made me happy.

--One of my ER nurse friends that I only see at Quilt Camp, but who is also a more active Facebook friend than other Quilt Camp friends, said that I look so much happier since I got back into teaching face to face. That, too, made me happy and took me back to the interviews I had when I was first applying for Candidacy, where my interviewers noted where my face lit up--it was when I talked about teaching.

--Yesterday afternoon, while I finished my taxes, my spouse listened to various church services after we got home from Bristol.  He finished by listening to a variety of my sermons while I puttered in the kitchen.  I was happy with them and thought that if I wasn't the minister, those sermons would make me want to attend that church.

--We finished the day by watching The Last Temptation of Christ, which neither of us had seen before.  It won't ever be my favorite depiction of Jesus, and my goodness, it is a LONG movie, but it will probably be something I think about throughout the week.  It's a great movie for depicting the ways Jesus was human, but much less on how he is divine.  He is always surprised when the miracles work--another depiction that is true to some parts of the Gospels.

Lessons from Palm/Passion Sunday for Poets and Other Creative Types

Today churches across Christendom will celebrate Palm Sunday, the day when Jesus rides triumphantly into Jerusalem. Of course, the same crowd that cheers for Jesus will just a few days later be screaming for his death. Many churches will cover the whole Holy Week story today: Palm Sunday has become Passion Sunday. 

For more of a theological reflection on Palm/Passion Sunday, head to this post on my theology blog to read the sermon I'll give in a few hours at Faith Lutheran, in Bristol, TN (worship starts at 10 a.m., and all are welcome).

This morning I woke up thinking about what the Palm/Passion Sunday story has to say to us as poets and writers and creative folks in general. As humans, we are susceptible to the desire for praise. We don't feel like our work is important unless someone else says it is. In some ways, this tendency is good. We need the checks and balances of brains that aren't our own. I've written many a harsh things in my younger years, much to my later regret. How I wish I had listened to other voices that encouraged me to temper my tone.

But taken to its extreme, this need for praise can be damaging. We stop believing in ourselves and our worth and the worth of our work unless someone important tells us that we're great. And quickly, we start to determine which praise counts and which doesn't: this journal is worth our time, that one isn't. If we can't be published by the top 10 presses, we won't bother. If my book doesn't sell x amount of copies, it's not worth it. The danger is that we'll become paralyzed by all of this. I'm all for shooting for the top. By all means, send that manuscript to W.W. Norton. But if they say no, don't want to stop there.

The Palm/Passion story also reminds us of the fleeting nature of fame. Don't get me wrong: if I'm chosen to be Poet Laureate, I'll do as good a job as I'm capable of doing. But I'll start every day by reminding myself that the fame is likely temporary. The important thing remains: the work.

The Palm/Passion story reminds us that we're characters in a larger narrative (as does the Passover story, which people across the world have heard/will hear this week too, both in Jewish traditions and some Christian traditions). We will find ourselves in great danger if we start to believe it's all about us, personally. No, there are larger forces at work. 

To put it in poetry and Scouting terms: I'm put here to do my best writing, but also, to leave the poetry campsite better than I found it. How do I do that? I work to promote not only myself, but other worthy poets, I work to make sure that the next generations know about the rewards of poetry, I envision the kind of world we would have if poetry was valued, and I work/play to make that possible. I also work to have a balanced, integrated life: my work in poetry cannot be allowed to eclipse other important work: the social justice work, the care of my family and friends, my relationship with the Divine, the other creative work I do, the self-care that must be the foundation of it all.

I find many values to being part of a religious tradition, but the constant reminder of the larger vision, the larger mission, is one of the most valuable to me. The world tells me that many things are important: fame, money, famous/rich people, a big house, a swell car, loads of stuff. My religious tradition reminds me of the moth-eaten nature of these things that the world would have me believe is important. My religious tradition reminds me of the importance of the larger vision. And happily, my religious tradition is expansive enough that my creative work can be part of that larger vision.

Scraps from Quilt Camp

It's been a great week, tiring but great.  Let me record some bits and pieces that I want to remember.

--In years to come, I will remember this week as one where I did a lot of sewing.  Yesterday, as I cut cloth into strips, I thought about how satisfying it is, the feel of the cloth, the sound of the scissors slicing through it.

--I asked for scraps that people would throw away because we'll need them for the upcoming Create in Me retreat.  I'm surprised by the amount of cloth that people would ordinarily throw away, and it's not just selvage and other bits of cloth that don't have a quarter inch bit for a seam allowance.  I've been scavenging the scraps too.  A lot of these scraps are high quality fabric.

--Yesterday, we had a small field trip.  No not to a quilt or fabric shop--I went with a friend I first made through the Create in Me retreat to see another friend we met through that retreat.  He works at Raven and Crone, the kind of store that I thought didn't exist in a physical form anymore.  It sells rocks and crystals, herbs and spices and teas, books, incense, jewelry, candles, bath products.  Delightful!  I bought three small polished rocks because they had beautiful colors and reminded me of childhood.  I bought a bag of loose tea.  Our friend who works there formulates and mixes them, and he was a chemistry major before he was a pastor, so I trust the tea.  Yesterday afternoon I brewed a cup, and it's delicious.

--We have had amazing food.  That's not unusual for non-summer camp, but I do remember a day when even adult camp was not this delicious. 

--We did chair yoga on Wednesday.  It's amazing how much we can stretch in just twenty minutes.

--I've been walking a bit each day.  There are some folks here at Quilt Camp who are grateful for a chance to stretch in this way.  We have different kinds of conversations as we walk.  When people are absorbed in their quilting, it's harder to talk, so it's great to take a break.

----One of my walking friends knows a lot about plants, and she's identified some that I didn't know.  Beautiful!

--Yesterday we walked down my street.  I told them I wouldn't invite them in because my spouse was spackling and I didn't want them to risk ruining their clothes.  

--As we walked down my street, I was struck as I often am, on a daily basis, by gratitude.  I am grateful that I live in this neighborhood, in this church camp, in this town, in this part of the Appalachian mountains.  I am hugely grateful that we sold our house in Florida, at a time when someone still wanted to buy it.  It's a good place to weather the political and climate chaos that is surely upon us.

Last Full Day of Quilt Camp

It's been a good few days at Quilt Camp.  I have two quilt tops I've been working on, and while I've made progress, they are still not done.  It looks like this one should be done when I stretch it on the design wall:

But stretched on the bed, it's not wide enough yet:

My other quilt top is similarly not finished yet.  Happily I have time and scraps and love doing the work.  Fortunately, we're not depending on the quilts I'm making to keep us from freezing to death in the winter.

At Quilt Camp, the projects of other quilters inspires me too.  Yesterday, I loved seeing these notecards made of scraps sewn on cardstock:

Here's the back of those cards:

And here's an abstract design:

Last night I came back to my nearby Lutheridge house because I have seminary class on Thursday nights.  I only have a few class meetings left, and this class which explores Christmas and Easter without the ministry in between, is one of the best classes I've ever taken in all of my student years.

Today is another day, the last full day, of sewing and socializing.  It's going to be wonderful, and I'm already feeling sad that Quilt Camp is soon over.  

Ways to Greet the Day: Lost Lenses or Fabric in Our Hands

It has already been a strange morning.  I put on my glasses that I use to read the computer when my contacts aren't in, and I thought my vision was odd.  I took them off and realized I didn't have as much trouble reading the computer screen as usual.  I thought it was my left eye that was strange.  Could I have left a contact lens in?  I touched my eye, and it didn't seem to be there.  The contact wasn't in the lens case.  Long story short:  last night, I took the lens out of my left eye, put it in the right side of the case, and left my right contact lens in my eye all night.  So I put the lenses in their proper case and later, I may or may not put them in my eyes.

I have that kind of flexibility today because I'm not driving down to Spartanburg; today is the first full day of spring Quilt Camp at Lutheridge!

Yesterday was also strange.  I did a lot of prepping to get ready for my time away, and then I headed over to the audiologist to get her help with my hearing aid.  It has a protective part at the end, designed to be removed, and when I took my hearing aid out on Monday, the protective part stayed in my ear.  Happily, it was easy for her to remove.  I didn't panic on Monday--well, after the first bit of panic--because I reasoned that the tip is designed to be in my ear canal for long periods of time.

Once I got back from the audiologist, it was off to work.  It was a good teaching day.

I drove back to North Carolina and stopped at the Faith Center on my way in.  I don't have as much to unload as the Quilt Camp folks who come with two sewing machines, a chair, and an extra table, but it does take me several trips back and forth to the car to get all my cloth around me.

I went to dinner with some friends; most Quilt Camp meals will be served at the dining hall, but meals don't start until the first full day, today.  I'm really looking forward to breakfasts that are much more than my usual bowl of enhanced oatmeal.

Since I am up early anyway, I'm the one who opens the Faith Center for those of us who want to greet the sunrise with fabric in our hands.  Let me close this post so I can get ready. 

Celebrating National Poetry Month with "Goblin Market"

This week will be unusual for Spring semester.  I'm only teaching two days this week, on Monday and Tuesday.  On Wednesday through Saturday morning, I'll be over at Lutheridge, at Quilt Camp.  I'll be returning to my Lutheridge house to sleep, but I'll be spending most of my time sewing.

Earlier in the semester, when we were missing so many classes because of snowy weather, I thought about trying to divide my time between Quilt Camp and Spartanburg Methodist College.  But my students can use some unstructured time to work on all the papers that are due in the next few weeks.  Will they?  If they are smart.  If not, they, too, can enjoy a few days off and then get back to work.

Today is the heavy teaching day, yet my heart is light.  We finish Christina Rossetti's "Goblin Market" today.  I had thought about canceling it, because it is long.  But we had space in the syllabus, and I didn't feel like devising a new plan.  I am so glad I went ahead with it.  I had forgotten how delightful it is to teach.

I taught the first part last week, and it made me so happy to hear students still discussing it on the way out of class; as two students tried to determine if the poem was really talking about bestiality,  I thought, I am so happy not to be teaching in high school.  I don't have to worry about angry parents coming back to demand that I be fired for teaching their students about this poem.

As the semester winds down, particularly in April, I sometimes feel a bit of despair about all that I am not doing, the poems I'm not writing, the journals that will be closing down their reading periods for the year without a single submission from me, the books of poems I'm not reading, the events I didn't organize to celebrate National Poetry Month.  It's good to remember all the ways I am celebrating National Poetry Month, by bringing poetry into my classrooms, by reading poetry to students and sparking interest.

The Tax Man Cometh

I did not go to one of the "Hands Off" rallies, although there was one near me.  I decided that I needed to get our taxes done, and I wasn't wrong about that.  I'm glad that so many people turned out.

Our taxes are a bit complicated this year, in ways I did anticipate and in ways that I didn't.  I'm working in three states, while living in a fourth.  For part of the year, I had health insurance through the ACA exchange, and for part of the year through my full-time job.  One of my part-time jobs, my Synod Appointed Minister job, has me as an independent contractor, so there are multiple tax implications.

I did TurboTax and hoped for the best.  I earned more money than I expected when I applied for ACA health insurance, and that meant what we owe was even higher.  Sigh.  But we have the money, and I am glad to have a job that pays more, even if it means we pay more income tax this year.

I don't have much writing time this morning--time to get ready to go teach Confirmation class and then to preach and preside at Faith Lutheran in Bristol.  It's the last Sunday of Lent--wow.

A Great Teaching Day: Nuclear Apocalypses and Civil Rights Primers

Yesterday was a great teaching day, although I didn't fully savor it.  I had several seminary projects due last night, one of which was a presentation, so that stress was simmering in the background.  My commuting has gotten a bit nightmarish, with slow downs and stops that add an hour to my trip home.  By the time my seminary class started, I was more stressed than normal.

So let me savor the teaching day here.  In my Nonfiction Writing class on Tuesday, we sketched out the remaining class days--there are only 6 of them, or there were on Tuesday.  My students wanted to think about propaganda yesterday, so we began with the Daisy ad from LBJ's 1964 presidential campaign, the ad which combines a cute toddler pulling apart a daisy with a nuclear explosion.

I knew that we were going to discuss the ad, so I spent yesterday morning watching this video that compares The Day After to Threads.  It talks about The Day After as a form of propaganda/teaching.  We only watched the first part, because I didn't want to expose them to Threads, which is quite graphic and gruesome.  We had a good discussion.  The students had never seen either film, but the commentary was understandable (as we watched it, I wasn't sure that it would be).

Then I went to teach my American Lit survey class.  It was the day to discuss Martin Luther King's "Letter from a Birmingham Jail."  I wanted to use some music to set the mood as they came in, so I cued up this album (by the magic of YouTube):

I had the CD cover on the screen, and one of my students walked in and said, "That looks like they're having fun."  Hmmm.  So I used it as a later teaching moment.

I've actually seen the real photograph--there was a display of Civil Rights photo at the Ft. Lauderdale Museum of Art.  As I recall, it's part of a three part set.  I said to the class, "What you can't see on this side is the firehose of water being aimed at peaceful protestors."

We talked about protest, about the rights guaranteed by the Constitution, about the unjust situation that King described in his letter.  We talked about modern issues of injustice that need our attention and how we might affect change (write letters, protest, run for office, write a poem or a song).  I talked about how the Civil Rights protestors of the 50's and 60's came from a church background and what that meant.  And then to conclude class, I had them write about the best way to do that, while we listened to two songs from the album, "This Little Light of Mine" and "(Ain't Gonna Let Nobody) Turn Me Round."

It was a good mix of history, modern politics/issues of social injustice, civics reminders (your legislators will take notice if you write or call, and they may change their minds), literature, and song.  It was less a focus on literature than most class meetings, but it felt important.  And it will lead nicely to Claudia Rankine's Citizen:  A Lyric on Tuesday. 

A Week of Interviews and Contracts

It has been a whirlwind week, and I'm not talking about the "will he or won't he" tariff chaos.  It's been a week where I have multiple seminary assignments due--from here on out, they will be more spread out.  I do think that if I was smart, I would go ahead and get the final projects done, and maybe I will.

I had an interview this week.  On Tuesday, I interviewed to be part of the Summer 2025 cohort of the CPE program at the Asheville VA Hospital.  I wasn't sure what to expect--after all, it's not like a job interview, where people are trying to determine if they want me to be part of their lives for what could be a long time.  

My mom sent me this e-mail, which I thought was charming in so many ways:  "Hope all goes well. You are a dynamite young lady who can ace this interview. Keep us posted! Mom."  It's been a long time since anyone called me a dynamite young lady--I certainly don't feel young anymore.

The interview went well, I thought.  It was the kind of interview where I could tell that the three people on the interview team had read my extensive application materials and thought about them and come up with incisive questions.  I answered them honestly.  The interview lasted 45 minutes, so there could have been plenty of places where I stumbled.

For example, they asked me what I hoped to learn outside of skills, what kind of self development did I hope to experience, and I said that I wanted to learn more about how to be present to people with problems that aren't fixable. I felt like it was a good answer, but they might have found it problematic.

Happily, they must have found more about me to like than reject.  Yesterday, the day after the interview, I sent a thank you e-mail, and I got a reply offering me a spot.  I wrote back to say yes.  

You might be asking why I am doing CPE this summer--aren't I graduating?  Yes, I am on schedule to graduate with my MDiv degree, but I still have requirements to complete before I am eligible for ordination.  One of them is CPE, a kind of chaplaincy training.

I also got my teaching contract for next year, signed it, and made some inquiries about health insurance.  Happily, our health insurance continues through the summer, even though technically I'm between contracts for a few months.  It is so nice to be at a place where I'm treated well.

Here it is Thursday, and it feels like I should be done with my tasks for the week.  But I still have two papers due today to finish, and seminary class tonight,  along with teaching tasks--and it's time to start thinking about my sermon for Sunday.

Well, let me get to it.  The weather seems iffy, so I'll get a walk in.

Sketching Progress

Because my writing time is limited this morning, let me post about my sketching progress.  Back in January, I made three intentions.  One of them was this:  "I have lots of ways to improve my ability to sketch a lifelike human, but I want to concentrate on faces (both from the front and profile) and hands, and not in isolation, but as part of the figures that I draw."

I'm still not great at drawing humans out of my imagination, but I've practiced by sketching humans that appear in catalogs.  Here's what I did back in January:

Here's a close up of my sketch, done with a .3 tip black pen.

Here's the original:

And here's what I did last night.  I spent roughly the same amount of time on each sketch, the January one and last night's:

Last night I used colored pens.

I'm using pens with a .5 tip (black and red) and a .1 tip (brown and burgundy).  Here's the original:

I'm pleased with my efforts.  What pleases me even more is that I reached for a sketchbook last night, as I brought my busy day to a close.

National Poetry Month Begins

It is April 1--I am astonished that it is April, astonished that the semester at Spartanburg Methodist College is almost over, astonished that the year is one quarter over, astonished that I will be done with my MDiv degree in a month.  It is National Poetry Month, and this year, like many years, I will not be writing a poem a day.

In the early days of this year, I was writing a poem a day or every other day.  I felt ideas coursing through me, and I wrote them down.  I hope to experience that situation again, but it won't be in April.  At this point, most of my creative energy needs to be directed to my seminary papers.  I don't have regrets--that writing feeds my soul and energizes me in the same way writing a poem does.

Still, I would like to get back to poetry writing.  I haven't really written much poetry since mid-March.  Let me start jotting down some ideas.  Let me start opening a Word document alongside the other work that I'm doing. 

I would also like to read more poetry.  I've been doing well at doing that; my teaching life, I'm happy to report, has me reading poetry almost daily.  But that teaching ends in three weeks.  Let me plan now, so that I can be more intentional once my classes end.