Of Apple Farms and Alternate Futures

Later today, I will stop by my favorite apple orchard on the way home.  I will be buying apples today and then again later in October--all for the sake of writing projects for my classes.  Tomorrow my Nonfiction Writing will have 3 kinds of apples, and we'll discuss the kinds of reviews we could write.  Then on Friday, we'll write those reviews.

I have a memory from a past autumn of driving to my favorite orchard and seeing a farm for sale.

This morning, I went back through my blog to find the reference, and I did; this post from September 29, 2011 has this bit:  "I continue to try to convince myself that a farm for sale is not a sign about my life's direction. I'm trying not to think about the proud tradition of poet-farmers in this country. I'm reminding myself that a farming life would leave me too exhausted to write. Too exhausted and broke to boot."

Each time I make the drive, I try to remember which property was for sale, and today will be no different.  But I do wonder if the house that was part of the property has since been torn down. It was looking old and tired 15 years ago:

Fifteen years ago!  I didn't ever call to find out how much the farm would cost, but I assume that even 25 years ago, I couldn't have afforded a 38 acre farm.  It is one of those choices, though, that still intrigues me.

If I see a farm for sale today, on my way to the apple orchard, I might make a different choice.  I would imagine keeping my teaching job in Spartanburg, while also running an apple orchard, while also teaching online classes part-time, while also preaching part-time in Bristol, Tennessee.

And then, I probably would make the same choice I made in 2011.  I would back out of the driveway and try not to look back.

I am so grateful to have arrived to living in this area, even without buying a farm 15 years ago.  If I had bought that farm, I might have missed out on my dream jobs that I have now:  teaching English classes at a small, liberal arts college (a dream job for my whole adult life) and preaching every Sunday at a small, country church (only very recently recognized as a dream job).

Swiss Army Knife of the English Department

We've had a major internet outage in my service area overnight, so let me make a quick blog post in case it flickers out again.

On Monday, I made this Facebook post, which has gotten more likes than almost any other Facebook post I've ever made:

My department chair just said I am the Swiss Army knife of the department, in terms of being able to teach such a wide variety of classes, and I have decided this one may be my favorite job descriptor ever: Swiss Army Knife of the English Department!

My department chair is the one who just took over from the old department chair at Spartanburg Methodist College; that department chair took over when the chair who hired me got promoted to Dean of Humanities.

The all-time favorite blog post I've ever made, the one that got the most likes and loves, is the one where I announced I had just applied to Wesley Theological Seminary.  That was back in February of 2021, and it is rather staggering to think about all that has happened since then, both in my personal life, in the life of the nation, and the life of the planet.

Happily, I do not have time for a full catalogue of wins and losses.  But there is always time for gratitude that I found my way here to this small, liberal arts college,  where I am so lucky to have a tenure track job, with a Candidacy Committee who is supportive of my goal to be bi-vocational.

First Day as Associate Professor

On my first day of class every year, I'm  always tempted to post a picture, the way that parents post pictures of their kids as they head off to school.  This year, the temptation is especially strong, as today begins a slightly different direction in my teaching life.  Today is the first day that I am teaching as an Associate Professor on a tenure track.

In some ways, not much will change.  I'm at the same school where I've been teaching full-time for 2 years in a year-to-year capacity.  I'm teaching the same classes, and I have the same schedule.  But this year, I have the assurance of being able to do this teaching work for at least the next 5 years.  Being on the tenure track means the school has more of a commitment to me than before.

This year I will have committee work, and we got our assignments yesterday.  I am on the Interdisciplinary Studies Committee.  As I looked at the other possible committees, I felt very seen with my assignment.  I'm not exactly sure what the committee does, but fellow members include the chaplain and the person in charge of co-curricular arts experiences.

Now that I'm on the tenure track, I'll be more meticulous about keeping records and keeping them accessible across years.  I always keep teaching evaluations, for example, but I rarely download them into a separate file.  Now I will, and upon the advice of two colleagues who have just gone up for tenure, I know how to create the master file for the tenure portfolio (class by class, not year by year).

Those of you who have been following my seminary/candidacy journey might be feeling confused and wondering what happened to that.  I continue a Synod Authorized Minister at Faith Lutheran in Bristol, Tennessee.  When our fixer-upper is ready for us to move some furniture into, I'll be in Spartanburg for part of the week and Arden at our Lutheridge house for part of the week, driving up and back to Bristol each Sunday.  I hope to spend summers in Arden, which is a much better place to spend summers on a climate change ravaged planet than most other places I could choose.

This morning, I'm thinking about that day in 2023 when I went down for the first day of teaching; I blogged about it here.  It's strange to think about how much has changed since that day.  Back then, I wasn't sure where my office would be or if I would even have a key.  Back then, I taught two classes, both on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

I'm going to use the 2023 end to that blog post to end today's post--it still works:

I am thinking back to my first day of teaching, long ago in 1988. I didn't bring water with me everywhere I went. I showed up with syllabi, which I handed out. And then I stationed myself behind a podium, where I kept a death grip for the whole class.

I am lucky--that first class was bright and engaged and wonderful. My life might have taken a very different trajectory had I been assigned a different class. I'm glad that I had the group of students that I did.

Let me go take a walk; I likely won't have a chance later today.

Annual Dinner with Camp Counselors

Last night, we had dinner with the Lutheridge and Lutherock camp counselors.  We've done it before, and I always come away impressed.  The neighborhood community who lives in the residential section of Lutheridge brings a variety of desserts, and the camp provides burgers and hot dogs, chips and beverages.

We sat with a guy who's finishing the fall semester and then headed to Duke Divinity school and another senior staffer who hopes to come back for another summer or two before he said he probably should find a regular job.  I said, "Or you could continue working in outdoor ministries year round."

Happily, no one was there to point out the shrinking job opportunities in that field.  I will never understand why the larger church doesn't do more to help/commit to campus and outdoor ministries.  The counselors I spoke to last night are full of hope for all the ways their futures might unfold.  I've found that my SMC students are similarly optimistic.  It's refreshing.

Before the dinner, I spent the day trying to fix my course shell for my online class at Spartanburg Methodist College.  The book has changed editions (again--sigh), so the references to the book page numbers that students find in the assignments and discussion posts are wrong.  Ugh.  I'm teaching someone else's course, and so it's not intuitive to me, the way I would have if I had created it all--it takes more time to diagnose problems and fix them.

I also did some baking--I decided to bring a gluten free, dairy free dessert.  It worked beautifully.  It's an almond-coconut concoction, and I want to record it here:

1 C. sugar

3 eggs

1 1/2 C. almond flour (or grind up a lot of almonds into as fine a powder as possible)

1 1/2 C. coconut (I used sweetened and unsweetened in 2 different experiments--no difference)

Whip the sugar and eggs until tripled in volume or until tired of the noise of the mixer.  Fold in the almond flour and the coconut.  Pour in a 9 inch cake pan lined with parchment paper and greased or in cupcake pan.  Bake at 350 for 25ish minutes.  You can only tell if it's done by color--a golden, light brown color.  It will be sticky and delicious.  It keeps at room temperature for days, although the crispiness of the crust declines.

Advent Labyrinth and Dreams of Deans and Fiber Liturgies

A few items that I want to record so that they don't slip away:

--Because this blog is a repository of ideas that I may or may not use in the future, I wanted to record this picture that a Facebook friend posted; I edited it so that a child is not part of the picture.  It's an Advent labyrinth from an Advent Quiet Day at a local Episcopal church:

It would be a very easy labyrinth to set up, if one had enough greenery--it's a big spiral with candles throughout.

The person who posted the picture talked about this labyrinth in the context of a church that offered an Advent experience in mid-December, with the above labyrinth, and some interactive stations in Sunday School classrooms, like a "praying in color" station, which looked like coloring sheets.

It seems like the kind of idea that has a lot of potential.  But I do wonder if it would work at a smaller place, a country church like the kind where I am now.  December is a busy month after all.

But I wanted to record it.  I wonder if a Spring event has potential.  A Lenten Labyrinth experience?

--Last week I had a vivid dream.  I was pastor of a church, and I had created some sort of weekly worship based around quilting and other fabric arts.  It was a worship service, not a craft time.  

It had a catchy name, like the Mimosa Mass that I created for my idea of a worship service that combines liturgy and an actual brunch.  Unfortunately, I can't remember the catchy name that my dream self came up with.  I want to think it started with an F.

I also don't remember any details about worship.  But I remember that I was having a conversation with fellow pastors and Synod folks about the worship and what a surprise it was that it continued to be so filled with seekers who went on to become members.

--Yesterday, Wesley Theological Seminary, my seminary where I earned my MDiv, announced that Dr. Carla Works would be the new president.  I never took a class with her, but I never heard anything but wonderful things about her teaching.  I had a few brief encounters with her when I lived on campus, back before she was appointed dean.  She became dean in the summer of 2023, and now, in the summer of 2026, she'll be president.

I immediately wondered who would be dean.  Will they hire from within?  Will any of the faculty be interested in this kind of promotion?

My spouse and I had a bit of interesting conversation about being a dean of a seminary, about whether or not I'd say yes if they called and offered me the job.  I am not remotely qualified, so my first thought was no, I wouldn't say yes.  Then I thought about how many people in my work life have been in charge, and they weren't qualified and they didn't realize it or they thought they could rise to the occasion.  Of course, that's hardly a ringing endorsement--so many of those people blundered ahead and hoped for the best, and maybe it would have been a disaster regardless.

I am always happy (SO HAPPY) to be out of administration, so it was intriguing to me to realize that if Wesley called me with an offer, I wouldn't say no right away.

Mid-Winter Break Report

I don't have much time before leaving for the melanoma doctor.  Let me record some thoughts.

--I am happy that my holiday experience is mostly stress-free (for more, see this post on my theology blog).  Occasionally I do wish I had a few more decorations out.  Yesterday I went over to a neighborhood friend's house for morning coffee, and everywhere I looked was a holiday feast for the eyes.  I reminded myself that the disadvantage to this level of decorating was the need to put everything away at some point.

--It has been a joy to be with the neighborhood church quilters who make quilts for Lutheran World Relief.  My spouse has even worked on some quilt tops, although at home, not in person.

--Today I hope to return to my own hand piecing.  The last few days have felt busy outside of the house, and they have been.

--Three weeks from today I report back to work.  How amazing it has been to have such a long break, even if I am never really completely on a break.  I've done some grading, done some planning for next semester, and of course, my preaching work continues.

--Three weeks from today, I report back to work for a day of faculty workshops, complete with meals.  It's still a joy to me to work at a place that feeds us.  I know that many people are not so lucky:  I am hearing/reading story after story about higher ed financial shortages and cut backs.  I feel so fortunate to be at one of the seemingly rare schools with growing enrollment.

--But is it rare?  Maybe it's just that age old story that good news doesn't make for compelling headlines.

--In addition to feeling grateful, I'm also a bit astonished at how I came to be here.  Three years ago I was still reeling a bit from the news that my seminary housing would be demolished, and we'd all have to move out by summer.  I planned accordingly.  The seminary housing is still not demolished, but I am happy about the outcomes:  I have better jobs that I wouldn't have had otherwise, and we've saved money, and it's been better for my spouse and our marriage to be together than apart. 

--I am feeling grateful and lucky, and I realize how fortunate I am to feel this way.

Rejections to Treasure

I got a rejection note in my inbox, and it spurred me to look up my submission.  Sure enough, the rejection note referred to two of the poems in a specific way (the full fat cream and the cinnamon rolls):

"Thank you very much for entrusting us with your poetry. I’m sorry to say that you’re not a finalist for this year’s ______ Prize, but I'm always glad to read your work! As far as I'm concerned, you deserve all the full fat cream, all the cinnamon rolls."

I promptly made a few more submissions, with those poems, to other places.  It put me in mind of a time long ago, when I was a much younger poet, taking rejected poems out of the envelope of rejection, giving them a quick check to make sure that they weren't marked in any way, and putting them directly into a new envelope going to a different literary journal, along with another self-addressed, stamped envelope.

For many years now, I've been avoiding any literary journal that charges $3.00 or more for a submission.  I was still back in the paper era, thinking about how little I used to spend when I sent out submissions in envelopes through the U.S. Mail.  But postage has gone up, so now $3.00 seems somewhat reasonable, at least once a year.

I'm still aghast at the odds against my success.  I still want to be a bit wary, and I don't want to lose track of my expenses, which are no longer tax deductible for me, since it's been years since I earned any money from writing.

There is part of me that wonders why I bother.  Publications aren't likely to get me a tenure track job or other opportunities.  My annual review at Spartanburg Methodist College does consider publications, but they are far from the most important part of how I will be evaluated.

I have been dreaming of a book with a spine for so many years and decades now that I still hope it happens.  So part of my submission strategy is force of habit.

I still get a thrill when I have an acceptance.  That alone makes it worth the submitting.  I also know that other work has to take priority, the teaching and the sermon writing, the work that actually pays me money.

Environmental Resilience in Our Science and Our Literature (and Psyches)

It's the kind of morning where I feel a bit fragmented--so let me collect the fragments to see if a mosaic emerges.

--There was a Facebook ad that took me to this new degree, a Master's in Environmental Resilience at UNC-Asheville.  It's not as interesting to me as it first seemed it would be--if I was younger, perhaps.  I'm just glad to see that some programs are thinking in this direction.

--I also wanted to record it because I wondered if they would ever offer an elective in writing the history of environmental resilience--and could I teach it?

--Also, if I put together any sort of reading series, it's good to remember non-literary audiences that might be out there.

--For the sake of future historians, I feel I should mention Hurricane Melissa as the strongest landfalling hurricane in the Atlantic, which came ashore in Jamaica yesterday.  It was the strongest in terms of wind, while in terms of barometric pressure, it ties with the Labor Day hurricane of 1935.  It's too early to know what the damage is, but certainly it will be huge.  

--Future historians might laugh at me.  Faithful readers of this blog know that I think strong hurricanes like this one will be more and more common as the years go on.  Future historians will understand the scope and contours of that prediction.

--We are having lots of rain this week.  In a way, I'm glad.  We've had a dry October, which is glorious in its way, but it makes me worry about fire dangers.  In a way, the rain makes me anxious, particularly when it continues day after day, particularly with hurricane coverage increasing.

--Let me go take a walk, while we have a break in the rain.

The Week Where A Clone of Myself Would Be Nice

This week is one of those weeks where I had more than one of me.  I'm looking forward to teaching the autumn themed writing module I've designed; yesterday I stopped at my favorite apple orchard to get a bushel of Pink Lady apples.  But the Southeastern Synod of the ELCA is having their continuing ed event here at Lutheridge.  I'll be doing a bit with that group; in a half hour, I'll head up the hill to camp to lead a morning walk.  I wish I had more time.

Even as I wish I had more time, I know that only some of the continuing ed would be relevant to me at this moment in my professional life.  The ELCA isn't geared to those of us who are bi-vocational.  Much of the support that the ELCA gives to clergy assumes a traditional clergy member who serves one congregation and doesn't hold down multiple jobs to make ends meet.  Or worse, it assumes that the clergy member is managing a staff of people at a church that has plenty of money.

And even though I know these things, when I see pictures of continuing ed events with lots of clergy folk having inspiring times, I want to be with them.  And similarly, when I see writers at events that look inspiring, I want to be there.  And when I read about successful teaching, I want to be creating modules that will do the same.

And so I try to do it all, sort of.  I could say that I do none of it well, but that's not true.  Could I do it better if I only had one thing to focus on?  Maybe.  Or maybe I would be bored and stop trying.

I also wonder what it's like to only want to do one thing, to focus on that one thing, to have no alternate lives tugging at the hem of one's garment.  I've gotten better at not obsessing over decisions already made, roads not taken.  But I'm not as good at settling down into my current life.  There's some part of me always creating alternate plans.

By now I realize that those plans will be useless.  Far better is my skill at pivoting when things need to be different or when something falls apart.  Perhaps that pivoting skill comes from my lifetime of alternate life Kristins tugging at me.

Well, let me get ready for my walk.  I've got only one self to be all the places where I want to be.  Let me enjoy it.

Hurricane Watching and Other Types of Observations

It's the part of the week and the part of the term when I feel a bit squeezed.  Let me record some bits and pieces.

--Because we now have Disney Plus, we watched Frozen Tuesday night.  It's a cultural artifact that I almost completely missed, aside from a few songs.  I wanted it to be more progressive, but wow, there are some problematic aspects:  Disney princess culture really has not evolved.  And lots of men putting hands on young women whether they say yes or not.  Hmmm.

--We watched Hamilton on Sunday and Frozen Tuesday night, and I had songs from both soundtracks going in my head all night as Tuesday moved into Wednesday. 

--I went to the public library Tuesday, and I thought about how delightful it must be to work in my local public library.  The staff always seems pleasant, and as I said to my spouse, people who hate books don't come to this public library.  The branch always has kids there who are so enthusiastic about books and reading.

--The last thing I need is one more possible career path as I age, but I did think that if my other career/job/money making possibilities don't work out, I'd be delighted to work in that library.  I don't want to get an MLS degree, but maybe they hire less credentialed staff for less pay.

--I have been making my own greeting cards, with sketches on old sketchbook pages (a spiral notebook that has been too bashed in to be a good sketchbook). 

I have taken to enclosing a fabric heart or a fabric angel into the cards--an extra stamp, and I hope extra delight.

I got an assortment of colored envelopes which delights me. Such simple joys, and I'm so happy that simple joys still bring me such delight.

--Knowing the delight that different colors brings me, I also got some colored index cards, and when my students come for conferences, I give the a midterm grade report on a colored index card.  The colors are random, except for the orange ones when work is missing.  It's a good system so far.

--I don't always know for sure that conferences are a good use of time, but some of my students who are missing work did seem to snap to immediate attention at that orange index card.  We'll see if it results in work being done.

--I am keeping my eye on Hurricane Helene.  I am so glad that we no longer own a house in a flood zone.  I am a bit concerned about weather conditions when I travel to Williamsburg on Friday.

--It has been raining, with intense bursts, for 12 hours now, and that's not even Helene.  If you came here hoping for some spiritual insights that come with storm prep, head over to this post on my theology blog.

--And speaking of rain, let me get ready to head down the mountain.  From 7-8:30, we have light rain forecast.  Spartanburg Methodist College has moved to remote operations on Friday, and today I have lots and lots of conferences scheduled.  If I had classes scheduled, I'd move them to online today too, but this many conferences would be impossible to reschedule.  It's easier to just go in.

--Many public schools are not in person for the rest of the week, so maybe the traffic won't be too bad. 

Friday Fragments: Quilt Projects, Camp Projects, Home Projects

This morning, I've done my work out of order.  I've been doing grading, and now I can't remember ever having had anything worth blogging about.  Let me put down some assorted thoughts:

--At the end of spring Quilt Camp, I put together smaller pieces of fabric by size.  I had a vision of putting together a quilt of random pieces.  It's not exactly worked out that way, but I'm pleased with how it's going:

--I love having a small project to work on in the evening, but it's quickly becoming a large project.

--This morning, I woke up thinking that I should spend the next few weeks sewing together the Log Cabin squares that I spent much of 2023 assembling.  The picture below is from spring 2023:

Then I can have it ready to assemble and quilt at Quilt Camp in November.  Later today I'll put them on the bed to see how many I have.  I'm fairly sure I remember that I have enough for our queen size bed.

--We took the car in for an oil change yesterday, and came home not only with the oil changed, but also with bushings and a control arm for the steering and suspension.  We could have put off this repair for a few months, but when it fails, it will be "catastrophic," according to the mechanic.  Well, this is why we save money, I suppose.

--Today we go to pick up the last of the furniture that we bought a few weeks ago.  We went in to get a kitchen table, and we left with two new chairs--well, we left having ordered them in a fabric that we hope will complete the living room look.  I've been very pleased with the small kitchen table, which can be expanded when we have guests:

--Yesterday we ate a delicious meal at that table, with the window open, and gentle music playing.  We could hear the patter of rain, and it was so delightful, even as we were waiting for the summons to come back and get the car.

--Today is the last day of summer camp at Lutheridge.  I still have dreams of being a director of adult programming at a camp like Lutheridge.  I have memories of Lutheridge summers from years ago, where there was more programming for adults.  Could we ever go back to that?  There are lots of folks in work places where they can't get away for adult programming during the school year (like teachers).  It would be fun to offer Quilt Camp or Create in Me or Wild Women or any other number of programs in the summer.  From what I can tell, there is space for adults in terms of lodging in the summer.  In terms of program space, it would require some creative thinking.  I'm putting this idea here so that I remember it in the future.

--It seems like we just got started, having counselors arrive and then campers.  And now, it's done.  One more summer complete.

--We've had people at camp this week doing burly, lumberjack kind of things.  Some trees needed to be cut into pieces, like the one that fell down last week and took some power lines down with them.  One tree by the lake has been down for over a year, maybe even two or three.  Why cut it apart?

--I did get a poem idea, when I said that men with chainsaws have a different idea of forest management than I do.  I thought this might be an interesting idea to have Noah's wife contemplate.  Or maybe I'll do several approaches and see which one I like best.  Hmmm.

Ghosts and All the Past Goals that Haunt Us

I have spent a week trying to write a poem about Cassandra deciding that she won't predict politics anymore.  I've put some Civil War ghosts into the poem.  I've noted that she's the first to notice the turning of the leaves, and she knows the hour in the night that crickets stop calling to each other.  The poem has yet to come together, but it continues to percolate.

It's easier when a poem comes to me in one big rush, but these days, I'm grateful for poetry in any form.  These days, I'm feeling like a pale shadow of the writer that I used to be.  I am still starting most days by writing a blog post or two--and during the school year, I'm doing a lot of academic writing.

In short, I am still writing a lot, but it's not the kind of writing that will likely be remembered.  I remind myself that most of us aren't doing the kind of writing that will be anthologized in 100 years, if humanity is still around to create anthologies of great literature in 100 years.  I remind myself of writers like Dorothy Wordsworth, who wrote journals that were only valued for their insight into the writing of Coleridge and William Wordsworth, until feminist scholars saw something different.  Her journals wouldn't have survived for feminist scholars to see something different, had she not been connected to male writers valued for other reasons.

This morning, I reposted a blot post about the feast day of Mary and Martha and Lazarus.  I thought about the magazine editor who reached out to ask me if she could republish it; of course I said yes.  When I think about publishing, I've probably had more publications because of blog posts than because of a traditional submitting process.

In some ways, my thinking about myself as a writer/artist/creative person in the world mirrors my thinking about myself as a woman growing older.  I saw a picture of me in 2011, and I was thunderstruck at how thin I was.  I reminded myself that it was after a summer of concentrated trying to be lose weight:  a weight loss challenge at the gym, a chunk of money paid, consultations and keeping track and limiting calories and working out 2-3 hours most days.  And I kept the bulk of the weight off until the past year.  Do I want to do that again or do I want to focus on other priorities?

I think of how many publications I had in the early years of submitting.  I wanted publications, so I submitted a lot.  I thought/hoped publications might lead to bigger dreams coming true:  a different teaching job with a lighter load, a book length publication, a movie deal (dream big, right?).

I look at my current life.  Yes, I could be thinner, and I do plan to shed some of this weight.  Yes, I could publish more, and I do plan to keep submitting here and there.  But I also want to finish my MDiv by May of 2025.  

On that note, I'm bringing this writing to a close so that I can go on a hike with Create in Me friends.  It's one of our last chances of the summer.  In 9 days, I report back to work, and most of my hiking windows close until December.  On a brighter note, it's work at a school that's the kind of teaching job I hoped to win back in the days when I submitted on a much fiercer schedule.

Ghost Seminary

One reason I wanted to come to this intensive is that it's the last time we'll be on this campus.  Earlier this year, the announcement came that the seminary would be moved to the Lenoir-Rhyne campus in Hickory, NC.  Frankly, as I move around campus, it feels like everybody has already moved there.

I will spend time in the library today, the library that has more books by itself than the whole of the library holdings at the Lenoir-Rhyne campus.  I fear for these books.  I know what often happens:  people will look at the last time a book was checked out and decide that no one is interested and toss the book.  The idea of that makes me sorrowful in so many ways, even as I admit that I rarely check out physical books from my own seminary campus (admittedly harder from a distance).

The dining facility has group pictures of all graduating classes, and I've had fun looking for people I know.  But along the line, I thought about the size of the classes.  We've been told that the seminary must move because there are fewer students.  But based on these pictures, the seminary has never had many students.  The largest graduating class was roughly 30 students.  Far more typical is the class of 1990:

Now, there are other good reasons for moving the seminary.  It's clear that it's been awhile since the buildings were maintained.  My small group is meeting in a building that reeks of mildew, even though the AC is running.  As I walk back to my seminary apartment that's on the far end of the complex, I can see the stucco about to break apart on the walls, and every AC unit looks like it's about to rust through completely.

Still, I hate to think of losing this campus, particularly as I take guesses at what might happen to it.  In yesterday's small group session, I talked about feeling grief about this part of the future.  I talked about how it's a shame to have all this infrastructure disappear into more urban development when so much could be done.  My friend said, "Like create an arts retreat?"

My friend and I have shared this dream, a retreat center that focuses on liturgical arts, for a long time.  I like the idea of communal living as part of it, but only if the communal living means that each person gets their own living space.  I know how quickly communal situations deteriorate when one person's cleanliness/neatness preferences don't mesh with that of others.

The small group was intrigued by the idea of changing the campus to that kind of vision, and I spent the rest of the day thinking about that possibility.  It might be easier to do such a thing at a place that already offers retreats, like Lutheridge.  It might be easier to do such a thing at a place that is also a small seminary--sigh.

I do realize that I don't have the resources of Lenoir-Rhyne, and so why should I think that I could have different outcomes.  But my mind goes back to part of our large group session yesterday, when our learning leader talked about God planting dreams in us like a farmer plants seeds.  I will continue thinking and writing and dreaming.

Internship's End

Last night, my internship experience came to a close--it was a natural end, nothing dire.  But it does feel like an event worth noting.

First, some background.  Wesley handles internships differently than some  schools.  It's a part-time job coupled with a class where we meet each week to process our experiences together as a group.  The part-time position can be in a church, the typical learning to be a parish pastor kind of job.  But it could also be in any number of other settings, from prisons to hospitals to non-profits.  If a seminarian has a specific vision, as I did, she can file the paperwork to have her site considered.

I was lucky to have this flexibility.  When I was thinking about possibilities, I wasn't sure where I would be living.  The campus housing was slated to be torn down, and I was mulling over options.  I decided that an internship that I could do remotely made sense.  I had been impressed with the way the Southeastern Synod of the ELCA offered online options for spiritual growth, so I reached out to them.  They were agreeable, and happily, the paperwork was not too onerous.  I know that Synod staff are busy folks, and I hated making paperwork requests.

During my seminary journey, I've never been too worried about traditional classes:  I know that I can write, and I can read rigorous books and journal articles, and I have little problem meeting class deadlines.  But the internship process worried me a bit, with its additional parts:  class instructors, internship staff from the school, and Synod staff.  Happily, everything went smoothly.

When I first started at Wesley, the internship stretched over two years, with the class meeting every other week.  I prefer the more intense model that I just completed.  Much can go wrong over two years, and I would hate to have to start over.  Much can go wrong over one year, and I'm glad to have this requirement completed.

When I talk about much that can go wrong, I know that may sound like I'm being a bit of a drama queen.  But I've seen classmates derailed by events, like the death of the mother who was providing childcare or a pregnancy that turned problematic or any number of other health problems.  I know that internship sites that seem fantastic can change.  I feel fortunate that I didn't have any stumbling blocks.

I also feel fortunate that my internship journey has been filled with wonderful people, people I worked with directly and indirectly at the Synod level, faculty, classmates.  I have felt supported and nurtured at every turn.  I know that not everyone gets that experience, and I am so grateful that I have had the experience that I just completed.

Eclipse Regrets

I now have eclipse regret.  Perhaps I should have gone on a quest for totality.  I knew we were going to be at 85% totality, and I thought that would be enough.  But now, seeing other people's pictures and reading about their experiences, I'm wondering if I should have made more of an effort.  After all, we won't have these opportunities often, at least not in driving distance.

I'm also feeling a tinge of sadness for other reasons.  I made this Facebook post yesterday afternoon:  "Strange to think about how much has changed since August 2017, the last time I viewed a solar eclipse. Back then, I wrote this conclusion to a blog post: 'Make plans now: August 12, 2045, my house will be on the path of full totality. If the rising seas haven't washed it away, you're all invited to my house. Full totality will be at 1:37 p.m.' That was my Florida house, now someone else's Florida house, and that post was just a few weeks before Hurricane Irma."

We stayed in that house for four more years, many of them years of trying to stay sane in the midst of home repairs from hurricane damage.  Sure, we were one of the lucky ones--our insurance paid for the repairs, with minimum struggle to get them to do it.  We thought it was going to be a struggle, with a need to send documentation about our contractor and to get said contractor to fill in reports periodically to get the funds released periodically--and then, out of the clear blue sky, the funds were released in one big check.

I spent the next four years expecting the insurance company to come and demand paperwork or demand their money back or somehow make my life more difficult.  Happily, they did not.

Thinking about 2017 makes me sad for all sorts of reasons.  Even though I didn't have the amount of leave accrued in my new job that would have let me go on a quest for totality, I was happy in that job at that moment.  We had just had a successful accreditation visit.  Our new president who was in charge of two campuses was still mostly at the Ft. Lauderdale campus, still mostly not concerned with my campus, the Hollywood campus.  It was all going to go badly in many different ways in the coming years, but if I had any sense of that fact, it was only a glimmer.

There's also some sadness because we spent that 2017 eclipse in and near the pool in our backyard; my sister and nephew were down for a visit, and we were having a marvelous time.  We still have a marvelous time together, but it's different now, in the normal ways that everything changes as we age.

I have spent time trying not to look back, but every so often, I'm stopped in my tracks.  Usually, I'm stopped for happiness.  If I could go back to 2017 Kristin and tell her how life has changed, she would be amazed:  a home in the mountains, almost done with an MDiv program, a part-time preaching position, and a teaching job at a small, liberal arts college.  That list represents lots of dreams coming true.  It also represents some severances:  something we don't always remember when we think about dreams coming true, that dreams coming true mean some dreams fade away.

It is time to get ready for that teaching job--off I go, soon, down the mountains to teach English at Spartanburg Methodist College.  I teach, while the bathroom install is happening here.  It will be good to be away.

Let me close with another Facebook post from yesterday:  "Today I looked at the sky and looked at the ground, hoping for interesting shadows during the eclipse. No interesting shadows, but I did realize for the first time that one of our spindly trees is a dogwood, one of my favorite trees."

All reactions

In Which I Accept a One Year Teaching Lectureship

So, now I can be more straight forward than I was yesterday, with my discussion of "dressy" shoes.  This week, I interviewed for a one year full-time teaching lectureship at Spartanburg Methodist College, hence the need for "dressy" shoes (which, again, I stress that most people wouldn't see them as "dressy"--they are flat and black and boring).  Yesterday, they offered me the position, and I said  yes.

Let me say at the outset, I'm still going to be taking seminary classes, so having this job doesn't change that.  If the Faith Lutheran folks want me to continue past June (when the contract extension ends) as their very part-time minister, a full-time teaching job doesn't get in the way of that.

The college had advertised several positions; I originally applied for the tenure track position, which had this language:  

"A PhD in Rhetoric and Composition or related discipline. (ABD with identified completion date will also be considered). We are especially interested in candidates with areas of specialization in professional writing; technical communication; digital and social media studies; visual rhetorics; business, grant, and non-profit writing; or editing and publishing. Additional experience with creative writing and/or journalism is welcome."

I thought that I might fit--I don't have course work in digital and social media studies, but I've been doing writing for digital spaces and social media.  I've taught business and technical writing.  I've done editing and publishing and professional writing of all kinds.  I thought it was worth applying, particularly since I've had success there as an adjunct.

A few weeks ago, I heard from a woman on the search committee, who also happens to be the woman who hired me to be an adjunct.  She said they had decided on a different candidate for the tenure track position, but she asked me to consider applying for the one year lectureship, which is a 5/5 course load (the tenure track position is a 4/4 load).  After asking some questions, I said that I would like to have my materials given to the search committee.

A week before Spring Break, I was told that the committee would be interviewing me, and this week was the week.  On Tuesday, the search committee came to see me teach, and on Wednesday, I had an interview with the Provost (the chief academic officer on the campus), followed by an interview with the search committee.  There was a meet and greet that was open to the whole faculty, and then the search committee took me to lunch.

On Wednesday as I drove home, I thought that the day couldn't have gone much better.  I've had interviews where later I thought, I wish I had answered that question differently.  But on the whole, I don't think that Tuesday or Wednesday could have gone much better.

Yesterday I returned to campus to teach.  When I was in my office, eating my lunch of Greek lentils and barley, the Provost came by.  He offered me the one year lectureship, and I accepted.  It will be all English 100 and 101 classes for fall, which is fine with me.  I'm not creating new courses, which makes it easier to stay on track with my seminary progress.  I've often said that if I had gotten a PhD in Political Science instead of English, I'd have spent lots of time recently rewriting a lot of my curriculum, but the English Composition basics haven't really changed radically during my lifetime.

When I applied for the tenure track position, I didn't know that the school was beginning a BA in Professional Writing and Digital Communications--that announcement came later.  I am guessing that the tenure track person will be doing a lot to support that program:  curriculum creating now, helping students with job searches later.  In many ways, the one year lectureship works better for me.

What happens after a year?  The lectureship might be extended, or it might not.  It might turn into a tenure track position, which might mean that other people could apply.  In a year, I might be finished with my MDiv degree, and I might have all sorts of options--or I might not.

It's good to have a year of stable income, a year when I have a sense of what I'll be teaching well in advance of when the classes start.  It's good to have a chance to be working with these colleagues who have been wonderful so far--an important reason why the tenure track position interested me.

I won't lie--it's also nice to be chosen.  I've worked in places where it's clear that adjuncts rarely get the full-time jobs.  I'm glad that it worked out differently this time.

News of a Seminary Relocation

Yesterday was a mix:  a wintry mix that turned to rain which lasted all day, lots of cooking (chicken stock and pumpkin bread), sermon research, never as much writing as I hope to do but some.  And then, in the late afternoon, news that the Lutheran seminary in Columbia (LTSS) will be relocating to the Hickory, NC campus of Lenoir-Rhyne.  If you want lots of information, this website is fairly comprehensive.

Of course, that website can't tell me some of what I'd most like to know--it can't predict the future, and it can't give me specific details about professors.  There's no mention of the spiritual direction certificate program, which I imagine will relocate along with the seminary.

The graph that shows enrollment is shocking, but not surprising.  If I'm interpreting the graph correctly, there are 40 MDiv students enrolled right now.  When I attended graduation in May, I was surprised by how few seminary graduates there were; the bulk of graduates were in Occupational Therapy and other programs run out of the Columbia campus.  Each time I've been on campus during the past few years, I've been surprised by how few people are on the campus.  Lenoir-Rhyne is formalizing what has been happening informally for years, if not decades.

I do wonder what will happen to the campus.  If I had several million . . . wait, it would take more than several million.  Even if I could buy the campus for several million, there's still lots of maintenance work that needs to happen, millions in deferred maintenance.  And I can barely manage a small house on a small piece of land; why do I think I can handle a small campus?

I imagine that the departure won't mean much to the larger city of Columbia--there are other schools and universities that are much more integral to the economy of the town and the state.  And I do understand that by being at the larger Lenoir-Rhyne campus, seminarians can take a wider diversity of classes, like language classes, management classes, and a huge array of counseling classes.  Those kinds of classes would have been available at the University of South Carolina, but it's not easy to take classes elsewhere and get them transferred back in, not easy for schools to create transferability.  

I feel most bad for students who will have decisions to make.  A move from Columbia, SC to Hickory, NC is no small thing--it's not a commutable distance.  There's never a good time to endure this kind of upheaval.  Potential seminarians with families to consider have probably already made different decisions.  Other seminaries have done a better job with distance learning that LTSS, and students who needed flexibility probably made different choices along the way; I know that I did.

I feel sadness, too, because of family history.  My grandfather and great uncle went to that seminary, and various friends of mine did too.  I completed my certificate in Spiritual Direction there and loved the campus, even as I wondered where all the people had gone.

I feel more than a quiver of worry about larger aspects of the future and the decline of all sorts of higher ed.  It's not just seminary enrollments that are down.  There's a lack of support for higher ed, and all the other kinds of education, in this country and beyond.  I know that some people are worried about what the decline in seminaries means for the future of the Church, and I do think/hope that people are having those conversations in a larger way, in the groups that do more of the decision making.  I have a sense of the larger scope of history, and I know that times of wrenching change can bring all sorts of positive developments in the aftermath.

Let now be one of those periods (and let the wrenching change give way to positive developments sooner rather than later).

Circuit Riders for the Twenty-first Century

Friday night, we had a pastor friend over for cheese and wine and/or hot apple cider.  She owns the cabin beside us, but it's a summer cabin, with no heat, so she was staying up the hill at camp.  We talked about the challenges facing the church.  And yet, because of the challenges, some churches are thinking about exciting options.

One church has created, with the approval of their bishop, a position called a preaching fellow.  Ordained pastors come to preach for 4-12 weeks at a time.  What a cool idea.  The church doesn't have to support a pastor in all the other ways (like insurance and retirement) that can be so unaffordable, and it gets to hear from a wide variety of preachers throughout the year.

Of course, there are other logistics:  where will the pastor stay, for example.  If a church member has room, that could be a possibility.  But if it's a guest bedroom and not a cottage, that could be an issue on either side.  Four to twelve weeks is a long time to have a guest.

Some part of me thinks, wait, didn't the church do this in the past?  Didn't we call these people circuit riders?  Yes, and I wonder why we don't have some version of that today.  I can't be the only one who finds it appealing.

I arealize that there may be few pastors who are in a position to leave their other responsibilities for 4-12 weeks.  But then I thought, what if the larger Church creates an even wider variety of career paths than already exist?  If someone loves to travel and gets energized meeting new people and having new experiences, that person could be a traveling preacher, going places where needed, getting real training to be that kind of preacher--instead of the "You are retired, so you can be an interim" kind of assignment we see now.

I write about new possibilities while feeling sorrow:  we're not doing a great job supporting alternate career paths now.  Woe to the person who feels called to campus ministry or outdoor ministry.  I know that campuses all over the state of Florida are having to cut back on student support because of the state's inane anti-diversity laws.  Wouldn't it be great if the Church was ready with alternate support?  Sadly, I don't see that happening--not yet.   

Holy Spirit, I'm willing to be surprised and trying to stay open!

Snapshots from a Week: Gloomy Weather, Vevo Christmas Channel, and Writing Samples

Today needs to be a day of grading and sermon writing, perhaps with a trip on the Blue Ridge Parkway to the Southern Highland Craft Guild, where they are having a sale on handmade items, an end of the year sale.  Let me capture a few events from the past week while I am still remembering them.

--On Thursday, we went to the Highland Brewing Company.  This beer, in all of its varieties, is one of our favorites, so I'm surprised we didn't go to the brewery before.  My spouse wanted us to choose a flight of beers and then have the bartender choose a flight that he thought we wouldn't like, based on what we had ordered.  I thought it was odd, but I was game.  The bartender also thought it was strange but quickly came around to relishing the challenge.

I liked the flight we ordered best--no surprise there.  My all-time favorite of the day was the Black Watch, a double milk stout that's only available seasonally.  But the other flight had surprises.  My spouse really liked the Cowboy Chords, a sour wheat ale.  I really liked the Highland Lounge Juice, a double IPA with lots of tropical fruit notes.

It was a fun expedition, a break in the day, a treat.  Hurrah for that.

--Yesterday was gloomy and drizzly, the kind of weather I love, but it makes my spouse depressed.  We had moved some firewood inside, since the forecast for the week-end was for gloomy weather.  So, without ado, yesterday we built a fire in the early afternoon and kept it going all day long.  It was lovely.

--I was sad to hear of the death of Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O'Connor, another of that generation that opened doors for the rest of us.  As I read the retrospectives, I was impressed with her determination and insistence, while at the same time remembering the humanity of those who had said no to her.  We seem to have lost that ability in this current moment.  Or maybe it always seems that the most vocal of us have lost that ability.  I am grateful for all the rulings that she made that remembered that real people will be impacted by these laws and these judgments.

--I made this Facebook post:  My TV is playing a Vevo Christmas channel, which is all Christmas music videos, from the classic to the contemporary, and these videos are fascinating! They're part time capsule, part message from a land I scarcely recognize. The commercials are also mostly Christmas themed. It's like some strange Hallmark adjacent universe my Roku stick has found, mostly good cheer and dreams come true and winter wonderlands, along with strange commercials for strange medications, where the possible side effects seem worse than a cure.

I also made this follow up post:  This Katy Perry Christmas video ("Cozy Little Christmas") that features naked Santa and naked Katy getting massages by reindeer hooves is rather trippy.

--My uncle still puts oat bran on his Cheerios.  Seeing his Ziplock bag of oat bran took me back to grad school, where the benefits of oat bran first came to public consciousness, where a group of us experimented with all sorts of recipes that featured it.  Was an apple oat bran muffin better than an apple oatmeal muffin?  

--I applied for a full-time teaching job at Spartanburg Methodist College, and I needed to decide which writing sample to include with the electronic application.  I decided on an essay that was just published in Gather Magazine.  I included the Word document and a picture of the Table of Contents.

If they want someone who does traditional academic publishing, that's not me, and I don't have anything that would convince them otherwise.  The posting didn't mention academic writing but included this wide variety of possible specialties:   "We are especially interested in candidates with areas of specialization in professional writing; technical communication; digital and social media studies; visual rhetorics; business, grant, and non-profit writing; or editing and publishing. Additional experience with creative writing and/or journalism is welcome."

I thought the article, which talks about ways to stay spiritually connected, even when one can't go to spiritual places, was a good fit.  As a way of showing that I'm conversant in visual rhetorics, I thought about including a link to my YouTube channel in the cover letter, but I just wasn't sure.  I did consider poetry publications, but I thought an article in a magazine with national distribution was a much better choice.  I am aware of all the ways I might have miscalculated.

Last year, when I first started to think about alternate housing in the face of the meeting that announced that our seminary housing would be torn down in August of 2023, I applied for some full-time community college jobs.  They did not require writing samples.  

The rain will begin again soon, so let me go for a walk while the weather is decent.  The temperature is in the mid 50's, which seems like a gift for December.

Dispatches from Quilt Camp

I went up the hill to Lutheridge yesterday just before 3 p.m., and settled in to sewing.  I returned home at 8:15, got ready for bed, and sank into a restorative sleep.  Hurray for Quilt Camp!

I am a bit worried at the way my fingers already ache/feel pricked, and my right wrist is oddly sore.  But I'll keep going as long as I can.  I have a high school graduation present to finish!

A few observations:

--Rudy Mancke died on Tuesday; he was 78, and I thought he was eternal.  Not really, but he did seem to have a timeless quality that makes his death a shock.  If you ever lived in South Carolina and listened to public radio, you probably heard his voice.  He was a naturalist and knew so much about his part of the planet.  Go here to read more.

--I had a parishioner write me a friendly e-mail asking for more information about what I said in a sermon in October, about when the Gospels were written.  I was so happy to be able to answer the question, perhaps in a more detailed way than he wanted.  I was also thrilled, of course, that he was paying attention and continuing to ponder.

--Quilt Camp has me thinking about how wonderful it is to have a huge space where we can spread out, sew together, but be working on individual projects.  I am remembering a dream I once had, of owning and operating such a space.  Would local folks come and pay for the privilege of work space?  I suspect they would, but I never wanted to run the numbers to see if it would be a viable business enterprise.

--It also makes me think of retirement dreams:  lots of small houses with communal space for creating together.  Here, too, I don't want to be the one who comes up with a business plan.

And now it's time for another day at Quilt Camp--let the sewing begin!