Marathons and Miracles

The past 10 days have been like running a marathon for me.  I'll bet some of my clergy colleagues will chuckle, thinking I'm a bit of a light weight, but I'm not sure I've ever been responsible for so many liturgies in one week - not even during Holy Week.  This was my schedule:
   Saturday - Blessing of a Civil Marriage with homily and Communion - outdoors at Kingsmill
   Sunday - Preaching and Celebrating both services at St. Stephen's
   Monday - a few pastoral care needs
   Tuesday - 7:30 am Eucharist at Bruton
   Wednesday - 11am Healing Eucharist at Bruton with noon Bible study following
   Thursday - 11am Daughters of the King Installation and Eucharist and luncheon
   Friday - First Fridays Recovery Eucharist
   Sunday - preaching 3 services at Bruton
Each one had a homily or sermon.  I'm ready to keel over in a heap.

Don't get me wrong - I'm not complaining.  If there are two things that I love to do, it's preach and celebrate the Eucharist.  Doing that every day?  It just doesn't get any better than that.  And when I think back to the hours I kept when I worked in the theatre, this is like a jog around the block.

However, just as a marathon runner could probably sail through the race as long as there are no injuries, bad weather, or unexpected occurrences, so too I would have found the week a challenge that I was ready to meet.  Except.

My nemesis.  The Common Cold. 

For the past two weeks I have been struggling with some kind of upper respiratory thingy that has turned into a nasty cough this week.  My head has felt like it has been stuffed with clouds, preventing me from hearing much of what people have said.  I am so grateful for my lifeline of Halls lemon-honey cough drops that has gotten me through each service, though I would be happy if I never had to stick one in my mouth again.  I have drunk enough hot tea with honey and glasses of water to drown a hippopotamus.  Actually, my liquid intake has made me feel like a hippopotamus.  I have spent several hours on several nights sleeping propped up on pillows on my downstairs love seat because lying flat makes me cough too much.  This morning I woke up at 4:11 with a coughing attack that didn't let me go back to sleep. 

I have taken Mucinex.  I have taken NyQuil.  I have taken lots of vitamins. 
I have taken my temperature.  It goes back and forth from 97.5 to 99.

Yes (to all the moms out there) - if my symptoms continue this week, I will go to the doctor.

Plus I've had ants invade my home.  Have you ever battled ants?  They are persistent and ubiquitous little bugs.  Enough said.  

Today in my sermon I talked about how we're often so busy praying for the big miracles that we can miss the small ones that are right in front of our faces.  I have prayed and prayed this week for God to heal me from this cold, but to no avail.  In the midst of my marathon, I have enjoyed the blessing of some of those small miracles:
   -Jan Brown's prayers that I'm convinced got my voice through the last three services today
   -a man who stopped by at the end of the 7:30 service this morning and brought me a fresh picked rose that he said would boost my immune system for 5 days.  Not sure of the veracity of that statement, but it sure made me smile.
   -Hearing Ralph Vaughan Williams The Call played and sung multiple times this morning - one of those hymns that speaks to my soul.
  -the delicious salads at the DOK lunch.
  -the beautiful, sweet faces of all the people at worship.

One of the gifts of starting my time at Bruton not feeling well is that I've been forced to stay grounded.  I haven't felt well enough to be "on," trying to impress.  I've stayed quieter because talking makes me cough.  I've stayed present.  It's given me an opportunity to listen and watch and begin (as I have in each church I've served) to fall in love with the people of God in this place.  

This marathon has ended, and I am grateful to rest.  I am also grateful for the gifts that I've received.
(But if you'd like to take the cough away now, God, I wouldn't complain!)   

2nd Sunday at Bruton - Gifts and Superpowers

Yesterday was my second Sunday as the Associate Rector for Outreach and Women's Ministries at Bruton Parish Church.  It was my first Sunday at the 7:30 service.  Jan was the preacher, and I was the celebrant.  Sunday services at Bruton begin with announcements, so after entering from the sacristy with Jan and the two Eucharistic Ministers, reverencing the altar, and moving to the crossing, I introduced myself to the congregation.  They clapped.  I was surprised and pleased.  I'm going to have fun when I get to be at that service.  After highlighting a few announcements from the bulletin, I began celebrating the first Eucharist of my time on the staff at Bruton.  Of course I've celebrated the recovery Eucharist once a month at Bruton for the past three years on the first Friday of each month.  But this was my first time for a Sunday morning. 

For the next two services, I was what they call "2nd paten."  This person processes in, sits in the middle chair of the rector's box during the Ministry of the Word, and then distributes the wafers during Communion.  Serving Christ's body to the people of God is something I could do all day long.  Seeing each face, knowing that each is a beloved child of God, smiling at them if they make eye contact, blessing them, being a channel for God's love - it just doesn't get any better than that.

Second paten was also a good role for me yesterday because the services were a little more complicated with the choirs singing a Haydn Mass at both the 9:15 and the 11:15.  It was lovely.  Beautiful, soaring music made Trinity Sunday especially festive.  And, I was glad that I didn't have the responsibility for knowing when we were to stand and sit.

Yesterday we also dedicated new kneelers that go around the altar rail.  Stitchers have been working for a long time needlepointing the cushions to help celebrate Bruton's 300th anniversary.  Many of the stitchers were present yesterday at the 9:15 service for the dedication.  I have done some cross-stitch in my time, but nothing like these kneelers.  They are stunning.  I remember seeing one of them in progress when visiting my colleague, Mollie Douglas Turner.  They will be a blessing to both people associated with Bruton and the many visitors who tour the church each year.

Here are a couple more:

Bruton is also developing a flower guild to do the flowers each Sunday.  I have often been blessed to be at churches where people have the gift of arranging flowers in creative ways.  Because of my connection with nature, I am grateful that flowers are a part of the way we glorify God.  And I am so thankful that there are people with the gift for arranging them!  Craftiness is a gift I did not receive, and I so appreciate and admire it in others.  The same person who sang the soprano solos during the Haydn Mass also helped arrange yesterday's flowers.  Every time I hear her sing, I tell her that she sounds like an angel - I could listen to her forever.  It's clear that she has other gifts as well.  So many people contributing in so many ways to make the service beautiful. 

As for me, I learned again what my best gift (or superpower) is.  My smile.  So many people commented on it.  No matter how many times people tell me that they appreciate my smile, I am always surprised.  It's not something I work at.  It truly is a gift.  It comes naturally and easily to me.  What a wonderful world God has created in which we all get to use our gifts to bless others. 

Transition

In the 1990's I spent five summers as a stage manager at the Interlochen Center for the Arts near Traverse City, Michigan.  Northwest Michigan is a lovely place to spend the summer - low humidity, breezes off the lakes, long days where it seems like the sun will never set.  Each summer as I walked around campus, I enjoyed listening to the music from orchestras rehearsing in outdoor concert spaces and individuals practicing in the tiny wooden cabins scattered through the trees.  On Sunday nights I usually attended the World Youth Symphony Orchestra concerts in Kresge Auditorium, a covered space with open sides and glass windows behind the stage that allowed us to see the movement of the lake while listening to the strains of a famous composer's symphony. 

Working with student actors and professional directors and designers brought me joy.  Each summer I stage managed the Shakespeare play and the 10-day show.  We rehearsed morning and evening with time for paper work and meetings in the afternoon.  We had Monday afternoons off - time for naps or canoe trips or trips to Grand Traverse Bay.  One summer we even drove out to Lake Michigan at night for the spectacular Perseid meteor shower.

I loved my summers at Interlochen.

Except.  Each year I had to acclimate.  The staff arrived a week ahead of the campers in order to get everything ready.  I was the stage manager of the 10-day play.  This meant that the day the students arrived we held auditions.  We had ten days to cast, block, rehearse, and tech the show before we opened.  It never seemed possible, though we always made it work.  My first summer we did The Rimers of Eldritch, and another year was To Gillian on Her 37th Birthday.  I can't remember the other years, though I'm sure I have records somewhere.

During a phone call to my mother in my 3rd or 4th summer, I guess I was complaining about the stress of the opening production when she said, "You get like this at this time every summer.  You hate transitions."  I was shocked to hear her say it.  At first I was even a bit offended.  Whatever problem that I was discussing felt unique to that time and place.  I didn't have the same complaints every year! 

As I thought about her comment longer, I realized that she was right.  The 10-day play was always stressful, and then we got through it and the rest of the summer unfolded more gently, at least until tech for the Shakespeare and Musical shows.  Once those first two weeks were over, I had more time for walks and chats by the lake and bonfires on the bluff and getting to know campers and staff and enjoying northwestern Michigan.  But at the beginning, in addition to that quick start with the play, I also had to adjust to new living quarters, food, schedule, weather (sometimes freezing, even in June!), roommates, directors, leadership, rules, etc.  Plus there was the uniform - light blue shirts with navy shorts, or navy corduroy knickers or skirts for cooler temperatures. 

I agreed with my mom - I did not like transitions.

I'm in one now. 

On May 1 I had a glorious send-off from St. Stephen's, complete with a beautiful cake, cards, presents, kind words and hugs, prayers, and even an azalea for me to take home.  It was hard to say good-bye, even though I'm just moving a little bit up the road.  Jan and I spent the next week in Colorado, hanging out with my niece and nephew for the weekend while my brother and sister-in-law celebrated their 20th wedding anniversary at the Kentucky Derby.  We also had the opportunity to meet with the Bishop of Colorado, attend the Wilderness service at St. John's Cathedral in Denver, explore the red rocks of the Garden of the Gods in Colorado Springs, discover and walk the labyrinth at the Sanctuary Center in Castle Rock, and spend two days in Estes Park and Rocky Mountain National Park.  As much as I may dislike transition, I sure do like vacation!!

Actually, I'm not sure I hate transition anymore, it just leaves me feeling uncomfortable.  So many unknowns.  So much to be learned and figured out.  The struggle to remain authentic in the midst of new expectations.  Adjusting self-care to fit new schedules.  And as happy as I am not to be driving down I-64 three times a week anymore, Costco is no longer on may way home.

When I was in Denver I spend some time watching my nephew play one of his superheroes games on the big screen TV.  He was explaining the various characters to me ahead of us going to see Captain America.  I'm not a video game fan, and I haven't followed the Avengers movies, but I found myself thinking about my nephew as he guided a character through the game.  I never understood the point of the game, but he seemed to be having a grand time making the characters use their different powers and change into various forms.  When an obstacle came - he just adapted to it. 

I spend a lot of time saying, "Why is this problem happening to me?  How come this obstacle is interfering with my day?  Why can't everything just go smoothly?"  Well that's not life.  Instead of being irritated, why not use a superpower to deal with it and see it as a challenge?  My superpowers may be different from the ones in my nephew's game, but I've learned a thing or two in life.  I can do hard things.  I can adapt when something new comes my way.

In a recent conversation with my colleague and friend, Sven, he suggested that I change my mantra from "I'm bad at transitions" to "I used to be bad at transitions.  Now I'm embracing them."  Yeah.  That. 

Last Day, Full Heart

This morning, after snapping my clerical collar into place and pulling on my Canterbury t-shirt, I put on my CNU Episcopal Chaplain name tag for the last time.  Above it I attached my small “Safe Zone” pin.  Turns out the weather was cool and rainy enough that I also wore my blue and white CNU sweatshirt on top of everything. 

My last day at the prayer station.  It was hard to wrap my brain around it this morning, and now that it’s over, I’m still in disbelief. 

When I arrived today, I took one load of stuff to the Plaza.  I was pleased that it was dry enough to set up outside.  After running inside to order a chicken flatbread sandwich for lunch, since I hadn’t brought anything with me, I went to the chapel to get my sign.  Before I even got the chairs out of their bags, the raindrops began plopping onto the sign, threatening to smear the ink.  I checked my Weather Channel app and saw a big blob of green, yellow, and red approaching the blue dot that indicated my location. Scary looking blob.  Promising more than a few drops of rain.

Time to move inside.

I was disappointed to be inside on the last day, but I was glad that I made that decision because a few minutes later I saw students running into the building, soaking wet.  Umbrellas and hoods went up as students headed out into the downpour.  After picking up my sandwich, I began setting up the chairs in the DSU rotunda, when a senior walked in and greeted me.   

“How are your exams going?” I asked him. 

“I just finished college,” he answered.  He had just emerged from his last final.

I held my hand up, and he gave me an exuberant high five.  The look on his face was priceless.  Joy, wonder, disbelief, shock, amazement.  He told me that last night he had felt a flood of feelings and that it would all take a long time to process.  I bet.  He asked what was going on with me, and when I told him about my new position, he said, “You’re in transition too.”

Yes.  Yes, I am.  I guess I feel a little like he does today – lots of feelings.

My Canterbury students surprised me with a gift at lunch – a book they had made of pictures and notes they had written, including one from our student who is studying abroad.  Some were handwritten; some were typed.  They included our scripture, John 8:32.  At first I thought it was a little writing notebook, but when I opened it I saw what they had done and tears formed behind my eyes.  I couldn’t read it right then because I knew I'd be too emotional, but later in the afternoon I read through each note and smiled with wet eyes as I read their kind and loving words.  It was the best gift they could have given me and will be a book I treasure.  I found myself holding it close and finally put it in my bag.  The student who gave it to me said that they had all pitched in.  My heart was so full - gratitude, humility, sadness, joy, surprise, love.  I know they aren't really my students - they are their own wonderful, individual selves, but I can't help thinking of them as my students, and they will always have a special place in my heart.

At about 1:45 it was time to pack up the prayer station and unload the exam snacks.  St. Stephen's senior warden came by and blessed me by helping me unload and set up.  He also took some pictures and helped with the exam snack table.  I was so grateful for his help.  As always we provided a smorgasbord of options ranging from fruit to Capri-suns to chips to candy, with an especially heavy emphasis on the candy that had been leftover from the Easter egg hunt.  Capri-suns were the first to go.  One of the Canterbury students hung out for about an hour helping us out.  Another came by to pick up a new t-shirt that I had just received from the printer this morning.  A third came by and helpfully filled a bag full of candy for her suite-mates just when we were ready to pack up and assisted us in loading the car.  Hugging each student good-bye was hard, but I am so grateful that I've gotten to have this time with them. 

Leaving CNU early tonight felt strange.  I'm not sure I quite believe it's over.  I will preach and celebrate at St. Stephen's on Sunday at a combined service in my honor and begin another round of good-byes, but today was it for my time on campus.  Like the seniors, I am graduating, and there is a whole heap of feelings.  Though I have a sermon to write and many other things on my list to do, I have been at odds tonight, not quite ready to let go.  New good things are coming, not the least of which is a trip to Denver to see my brother and his family, but for tonight, I'm trying to be with my feelings.  It's okay to be sad.  It's okay to miss them.  It's okay to need time to process.  Both for them and for me. 

Saying Good-bye Part 2

It's hard to say good-bye.  And not only to trees.

Today I start saying good-bye to CNU.

Monday night we had dinner at Father Scott's - the last time I will be part of it.  Tonight will be my last official meeting for Episcopal Campus Ministry at CNU.  This afternoon I'm bringing the labyrinth to the Plaza for its final appearance.  Next Thursday students will be finishing up exams, and I will sit and pray one more time at the Plaza Prayer Station and then hand out some exam snacks.  The first of May will be my last official Sunday at St. Stephen's, though I will be there once more briefly to fill in when Scott is away on the Sunday of Memorial Day Weekend.  Lots of lasts.

I will not miss the commute down I-64 under construction, and I will not miss watching the trees being destroyed.  I will not miss the wind trying to knock me down as I carry my sign across campus or the freezing cold temperatures as I huddle in the DSU in winter.

I will miss the students, the prayer station, the beautiful CNU campus, the quiet prayers and in depth conversations, the chocolate croissants at Einstein's, ECM meetings in the chapel, sharing the labyrinth, the Farmer's Market, blessing the semester, the staff members I've come to know, weekly visits to the OSA office, Sunday mornings with the good people of St. Stephen's, the dinners at Father Scott's, the check-ins with the Canterbury Club, highs and lows, the afternoons praying and talking and being present.  And did I mention the students?  Canterbury students, Thrive students, Cru, UCM, and Lutheran students.  Students on the Diversity Council, students in the arts, student athletes, student leaders, students who I only met for 5 minutes, and students who I got to know quite well.  So many amazing students whom I will miss.

When the seniors graduate from CNU this year, so do I.  I have accepted a position as the Associate Rector for Outreach and Women's Ministries at Bruton Parish Church.  It will be a wonderful opportunity for me to expand recovery ministry and meet a whole new church full of amazing people of God and integrate my SpiritWorks ministry with parish ministry.  It will also be very cool to serve in the church where I was ordained a deacon.  I'm excited.

But first it's time to say good-bye.  Am I starting to sound like Emily in Our Town?  "Good-bye Grover's Corners..."  (Once a theatre major, always a theatre major!)

Good transitions are bittersweet.  In order to say hello to the new thing, we have to say good-bye to what we are leaving behind.  The seniors will be saying good-bye to CNU as they prepare for the new phase of their journey.  Please keep all of us in your prayers as we make this transition.

Although it's hard to say good-bye, the difficulty shows the importance of the relationships.  Thank you, God, for this time at CNU and St. Stephen's, and for all the beautiful people you have brought into my life.  Bless us and keep us until we meet again.

Saying Good-bye to Trees

I live about 40 minutes from CNU.  Each time I go down I drive on I-64.  It is often clogged with traffic, especially when I'm returning home on Sunday afternoons.  They are widening it.  It needs to be widened as it is one of the main arteries into Hampton Roads.  But one of the reasons I have always liked the stretch of road between Newport News and Williamsburg is the trees.  They line both sides of the interstate and fill the median.  When I used to drive from Norfolk to parts further north, I would always breathe a sigh of relief when I left Newport News and reached the stretch of interstate with the trees.

They're taking down the trees.  Every time I drive to CNU, my heart sinks.  I watch the man in the cherry picker lopping off the high branches.  I see tree trunks stripped of branches sticking up out of the earth.  Further along there are stacks of tree trunks in bundles.  Redbuds, dogwoods, pines, maples, sweetgums, trash trees and ornamentals, all decimated.  It breaks my heart, and it's been even worse as the trees have started blooming, only to be cut down.  I hear the words of Dr. Seuss from the Lorax:  "I am the Lorax, I speak for the trees."  I know that the trees have to come down for the road to be widened.  I know that I will be glad when I am no longer stuck for hours at a time in traffic.  But I hate to say good-bye to the trees.

Saying good-bye is hard no matter what.  I had a sweetgum tree removed from my yard in January.  It was growing into my deck and starting to lift the railing off its posts.  Still, I hated to see it go.  I will not miss the sweetgum balls, but I will miss the red and yellow leaves in the fall and the shade in the summer and the birds and squirrels that perched on its branches. I will miss staring up through it's leafy bower to the sky.

I wish that progress didn't mean so much destruction to the natural world.  I know that I will be glad when the construction is done and traffic flows more smoothly.  But oh, how I will miss the trees.

In the Shadow of the Topiary

On Thursday I sat in the shadow of the topiary.  One of the students who comes by and frequently comments on the weather said, "It's not cold.  It's not rainy."  I responded, "And I'm sitting in the shadow of the topiary, so it's not too hot!"  After I said it, we laughed, and I joked, "Sounds like a book title, doesn't it?"  Maybe, if I write a book about my experiences at the prayer station, I'll use that title.  On warm days, the Plaza bakes in the sun, and though Thursday wasn't as warm as it will be when the students return in August, I still got a little sweaty.  I had discovered back in the fall that the topiary gives off just enough shade to keep from getting too much sun on my face and to provide a bit of coolness.  It was a lovely day for sitting outside - breezy but not the 40 mph gusts that had been predicted.  Last weekend I had gotten a new chair because the sack for the old one had ripped and made it difficult to carry.  The new one is electric blue, and I was eager for someone to try it out.

It's spring break for many high schools, and Thursday was clearly a big admissions day.  I watched group after group passing through the Plaza, touring the campus.  Blessings on their college decisions - I wonder how many of them will start in the fall.  Or perhaps these are juniors, visiting colleges so that they'll know where they want to apply next year.  CNU is so shiny and new; I would think it would be popular, though I understand there's a big debate going on about campus housing.  CNU students are required to live in on campus for their first three years, and not everyone is able to get the housing that they want or feel that they were promised.  So far the Canterbury students seem pleased with their housing for next year.

The work load is increasing as the final month of school starts.  Students are stressed, but they're delighted with the warmer weather.  All over the lawns I see them scattered with their books as they try to attend to their studies and enjoy some time outside.  For those of you who know me, you know that cherry trees are a particular favorite of mine.  Because peak bloom occurred over Holy Week and Easter this year in Washington D.C., I wasn't able to get up to the cherry blossom festival.  But for some reason, our trees are behind the DC trees this year, and they have peaked a week later.  Cherries abound on the CNU campus and lining the streets that lead into it.  Puffy white blossoms called me to them on the lawns of one of the residence halls.  I drew a branch down to my nose and breathed in their sweet fragrance.  One student sprawled on the green carpet of grass under the canopy of snowy branches.  I would probably have chosen the same spot.

There were some prayer requests Thursday and one request for help getting service hours.  The Presidential Leadership Program at CNU requires many hours of community service, and sometimes it can be hard to find places to get enough hours.  I was delighted to be able to connect a student with the St. Paul's Saturday lunch ministry that we've helped with before.  The student who first spoke to me at the prayer station is graduating this year.  He's also getting married in a month and has his senior recital for his music major next week.  He stopped by to check in and chat about a Dag Hammarskjold book he's reading.  It was great to reconnect with him and to wish him well on his exciting future.

Change is coming.  Winter rolls into spring as the baby leaves unfurl on the trees and bulbs burst into brilliant colors.  A yellow dusting of pollen coats my sign and shoes and probably the inside of my lungs after sitting outside for a few hours.  Seniors are getting ready to graduate and pack up and move out.  Underclassmen are trying to register and get the classes they need.  Student leadership is changing over as the older students turn their attention outward.  Everyone is busy as they pass through the Plaza on their way to classes, meetings, meals, studies, naps.  These are the days of the CNU lives as we sit in the shadow of the topiary...