Finding a Direction

You may have noticed that I have stopped posting lectionary notes recently. Life has been a little crazy, and for a couple of weeks, I forgot. And then, I started thinking about what I wanted to do with this online space. 

I have lectionary notes on here for the whole three year cycle - you can find them for whatever text you need by searching the blog, using the archives, searching by tag. I will continue to post my sermons each week. 

But for now, other than that, I'm thinking things over. I'll keep you posted!

Relaaaxxx

I have been spending these last few days on vacation at the Proskine Cabin at Casowasco. It is gorgeous and lovely and has been really delightful. 

I've noticed, though, how bad I am at relaxing. 

Now, before I elaborate, let me say that I really dislike the habit we have, that clergy have (maybe this is a problem for everyone else too, but I'm talking particularly about my colleagues here), of trying to "out busy" each other. Busy-ness is not next to godliness, I swear. 

What I want to say, though, is that I find it very hard to relax, and that it being so hard to relax is pretty sad, a sad reflection on ministry and culture and perhaps a statement about my need to more faithfully cultivate a practice of Sabbath. 

Yesterday, I had nothing on my agenda except having lunch with friends. But all day, I couldn't escape a sense of "should be." I should be doing this, I should be doing that. Was I in town away from the cabin too long? I really should be at the cabin so I can relax. Should I check my email? I would enjoy checking email, but shouldn't I be happy to not check my email? I have a couple of emails that I want to send, but I want to go for a walk before dark, but shouldn't I really get to those emails? 

The first day I was here I found myself a bit frantically wanting to do everything I had brought with me to do to relax. I tossed some 10 lb weights and my kettlebell in with me for exercise, a vegetarian slow-cooker cookbook to look at, some library books I've had out, some movies I rented at red box, my journal, which I've neglected writing in of late. And Monday night, I was stressed out because I was try to make sure I "relaxed" with all of those things right away. Even though I had the whole week to "relax" and even though relaxing should actually involve some joy, not more stress. 

The best vacation I ever had in my life was when I went on a cruise a few years ago. It was awesome, because I was cut off from so many things - it was expensive to use the internet for more than a couple minutes at a time, if at all. I could barely tax my mind enough to read a magazine while I was laying on the deck. Playing trivia games didn't count. But I can't afford to go on a cruise every time I need to relaaaxxxx. (Alas!) 

I'm trying to take a deep breath, and ask myself this week: What do I want to do right now? What would I most enjoy during this time? What would be really satisfying? 

My favorite Bible verse has been, since high school: I have come that you might have life, and have it abundantly. (John 10:10 b) That's what Jesus came for - for us to have abundant life. I'm trying to remember that, and let it guide my life. I'm trying to let it shape even my vacation, and I suspect if I let it guide my ministry more I would find the fruit of that endeavor as well. 

And now, I'm going to go watch some cheesy movie that I've seen 100 times already. And I think I will enjoy it. 

Mine

Some of you know that I just returned from spending a week in Cape Cod with my family. One of the best parts of the trip for me was spending time with my 2 year-old nephew, Sam. I have to say that being an aunt is one of the greatest joys in my life. Sam is so precious, so wonderful. One night, my mom and I took Sam out to dinner so that my brother and sister-in-law could go out for dinner on their own. My mom and I took Sam out for dinner too – but after running around and playing and go-go-going in his new vacation home, a tuckered out Sam fell asleep before we even got to the restaurant. While we waited for our table, and for the first 10 or 15 minutes before our food arrived, I held a perfect sleeping Sam on my lap, and enjoyed all the smiles from staff and patrons admiring Sam’s sweet face. As I was holding him, I was just really overwhelmed with how much I adore Sam, and I was just thinking: “Sam is mine.” Mine. Not as in ownership, obviously, but as in connection. Deep, unbreakable bond. Relationship based on unconditional love.

Sam is not the only person I feel this way about, although he’s pretty darn special. I tend to feel this way about my parishioners too – I remember sitting at an elementary school graduation for some children in my first appointment, and watching as my church girls received award after award, and I was sitting there thinking, “they’re mine.” As the Conference Youth Coordinator for the North Central New York Annual Conference, I look at the young people I work with, and watch them leading worship, and speaking about God at work in their lives, and I think: “Mine.” Just this week I visited one of our church camps, Casowasco, and saw several “former youth” of mine who are now on staff at camp, becoming objects of inspiration to a whole set of young people on their own, and I just felt so happy seeing them in action, in ministry, and I thought, “They’re still mine.” As you may also know, our annual conference will soon be merged together with three other annual conferences in New York State. This June, just before I started at First United Church, I spent a week a training camp for youth from all four conferences. And after a week together, I left feeling like the number of youth who I count as “mine” had just quadrupled. I once baptized a woman a few days before she died from ALS, a most horrific disease. I didn’t know her very well at all – she was a friend of a friend of the congregation. But as I sat with her and said those words: “I baptize you,” I was thinking, “and so now you are mine.”

Mine. As I was thinking about that amazing bond that we can feel with others, imperfect though we are, I thought I was starting to understand, or at least get a better hint at how God feels about us. I think of my love for my nephew Sam, which is certainly one of the most powerful feelings I’ve experienced, and I can only imagine a bit of how much my brother and sister-in-law feel about Sam, their child, who they created, and who is, in every way, made from them, part of them, even while he is unique and all his own. How much, then, must God love us! I think of the chorus of one of my favorite songs from The Faith We Sing, called, “You are Mine,” by David Haas. “Do not be afraid, I am with you. I have called you each by name. Come and follow me, I will bring you home; I love you and you are mine.” God must look at us, and think, “Mine!” My beloved children. Created in my image. So unique. So wonderful. So precious. Mine. God must just treasure us.

Sometimes, we lose sight of that. We can’t see ourselves as God sees us, and/or can’t see one another as God sees. But if you can remember the love that swells inside you when you look into the eyes of your child, or grandchild, or niece or nephew, or godchild, or student, or friend – I hope you can catch a glimpse, a hint, of how beloved you are, knowing that you belong to God.

30 Things for My 30th Year

Today, I turn 30. I've been joking and lamenting to family and friends about how old I am, but really, I'm fine with 30. It seems strange to me, I'll admit - a little weird to be 30. Where did the last ten years go so quickly? But I'm ok with it. However, I thought I'd work on a list of things I'd like to do/accomplish/try/etc. during the year that I'm 30. Here we go:

1. Make myself get on a plane again. I'm very afraid of flying - my biggest phobia - but I flown many times before, and need to get back into the habit of just doing it.

2. Go to Ireland

3. See the Grand Canyon, visit my friends out West, and take that cross-country road trip I’ve had on hold for a few years now.

4. Start taking tap classes again. I broke my ankle 2 1/2 years ago, and had surgery to correct it 2 years ago, and it's never been the same, and dancing has seemed out of the question. But I really miss it, and want to try it even if I have to go back to a beginner class.

5. Get back into running 3 miles. Again, ankle issues every time I've tried to start running again. But I think I need to go about it in a more systematic way, and try again.

6. Plant a garden. Not sure how this will work, now that I will be living in apartment, but we'll see.

7. Learn a few guitar chords well enough to play along with easy songs that I could use in worship settings.

8. Start learning Spanish (and Gaelic, which fascinates me, but Spanish does seem so much more practical.)

9. Work on or be in a play/musical. I really miss working in the theatre.

10. Finish the scarf I’ve been knitting for a long time. Think 3 or 4 years....

11. Be more intentional about discerning God's direction re: higher education.

12. Find a place in Syracuse, as I did in NJ, to be in regular, hands-on mission work with my congregation.

13. Organize a group of at least 40 young people from our 4 conferences to attend Exploration in November.

14. Start eating more local, organic, vegan foods, even if I can't make the complete vegan transition because I'm wimpy.

15. Speak the truth more often. I know that sounds pretty vague, but applies in so many different ways that I think vague is better.

16. Start spending less. I've been blessed with a good salary, as far as clergy salaries go, for the past couple of years, and I've been amazed (read: distressed) at how I've grown right into spending it. Having a pay cut as I move back to NCNY from GNJ will help me spend less (eek!) but I want to be more careful, more thoughtful about my spending regardless.

Okay, I'm running out of ideas. Maybe Part 2 tomorrow. What would you like to/liked to have done when you were 30? Any ideas?

Revgals Friday Five: Forks in the Road

I don't often 'play' Friday Five, but given my own current state of transition, and my own recent thoughts about "What Might Have Been," this "fork in the road" Friday Five caught my attention. Over at RevGalBlogPals, Singing Owl writes: I am at a life-changing juncture. I do not know which way I will go, but I have been thinking about the times, people and events that changed my life (for good or ill) in significant ways. For today's Friday Five, share with us five "fork-in-the-road" events, or persons, or choices. And how did life change after these forks in the road?

1. My path into ordained ministry was like my own faith journey - marked not by a 'conversion' moment, but by what I would describe more as a 'strainer' experience. The jumbled pieces of what I thought constituted a call from God into first camping ministry and then youth ministry were all poured into a strainer, and what was left behind was a clear calling into pastoral ministry. That's the best why I can describe it. A critical decision for ordained ministry happened in my college-search process. I just couldn't find a school that fit my hope: to major in youth ministry. The schools I looked at were all Christian colleges with an orientation that was much too conservative theologically for me, even in my high-school days. I finally visited and applied to Gordon College. My visit was awful. I attended chapel, and found myself so upset by what I was hearing in worship that I sobbed as soon as it was over. I had no idea where to go or what to do. My pastor suggested some UMC-affiliated schools, including Ohio Wesleyan, which seemed the best fit of the four he mentioned. I applied without visiting (although I visited later,) and found out they had a pre-theology major. Somehow, by the time I started my first semester, I was planning on ordained ministry, without even realizing how it quite happened.

2. Like my friend Amy, I strayed from the 'typical' pattern of education. I didn't skip a year in elementary school - I graduated a year early from Ohio Wesleyan, completing my BA in three instead of four years. I'm not really sure what even started me on this path - I had the plan to try it before I even arrived for my first semester. I looked at the course catalog and the requirements, and I realized how easy it would be to do, with my semester of credits I would start with thanks to high-school/college level classes. Just before my third year, I began to have doubts about my decision. I was really enjoying my time at OWU, and I knew I would miss my friends. If I stuck around a fourth year, I could add a second major. It was actually at Exploration '98 that I wrestled with a lot of these questions thanks to a workshop on discernment I almost didn't go to. Ultimately, I think I made the right decision - I was ready to move on from OWU. But I still wonder sometimes!

3. Choosing my seminary was another fork-in-the-road decision. I visited Drew, Wesley, and Boston. I loved the city of Boston. I loved the emphasis on religion and the arts at Wesley, and their program with religion and politics. But as soon as I visited Drew, I knew I would go there. It didn't have any particular program that compelled me. It was just a feeling. A widow of a pastor in my home congregation said to me, after I told her I was going to Drew, "I prophesied you would go there." She'd never said this kind of thing to me before, and never did after, but if there's anyone I would totally believe, it was her. I knew I'd made the right choice, and never wished I'd gone elsewhere.

4. In my last year of seminary, my childhood pastor invited me to commute to Drew and serve as his assistant pastor at his new(ish) appointment. We'd worked together with me as an intern when I was in college, and we worked well together. I agreed to take the position. And then - it just didn't sit right with me. I did not have any peace in my decision. So I sheepishly changed my mind. That spring, the then-pastor at my childhood church fell very ill. Because I wasn't working elsewhere, I was able to fill in at my home church almost every Sunday, preaching, teaching, visiting, etc., during an extremely difficult time for the congregation. I was so thankful I was available, and knew my difficult decision had been the right one.

5. Both coming to this appointment in New Jersey and leaving it are fork-in-the-road times. I struggled with the decision to come here, and I struggled with the decision to move back to NCNY. For me, making appointment decisions is so complicated because you ask questions not just about how the transition will affect yourself, but about how it will affect entire congregations, the one you serve and the one you might begin to serve. I've been blessed with congregations that have been particularly supportive and affirming in the midst of transition.

What Might Have Been

So try not to think about what might have been
Cause that was then
And we have taken different roads
We can't go back again
There's no use giving in
And there's no way to know
What might have been

(Little Texas)

As another new year begins, I've been thinking about the year that has just gone by, and the years in general, that go by so quickly. Do you regret anything? Often, when asked this question, people respond that no, they don't have any regrets. I understand this answer, I do. One decision leads to another and another, and it's hard to regret one decision without regretting the place that you've ended up altogether. Regretting something means being sorry about what your life is right now, and hopefully, most of us don't feel that way.

But on the other hand, are we honest with ourselves when we say we don't have regrets? Perhaps the better way to phrase it is to ask if we don't wonder what might have been. What if I had stayed an extra year at college instead of graduating in three years? What if I'd gone to a different seminary? What if my family had moved to Schenectady as we once considered? What if I'd gone on the trip to Brazil instead of to do relief work in Mississippi? What if I'd taken that internship? It's so easy to wonder what might have been. I'm happy with my life and the way things are unfolding for me - but I just can't help but wonder sometimes.

In these instances, I can't help but thinking of The Chronicles of Narnia, by CS Lewis. In two different books in the series, I can think of characters struggling with what might have been scenarios. In Book 6, The Magician's Nephew, Digory rings a bell that wakes a witch because the inscription near the bell says that he'll be driven mad if doesn't ring it, always wondering what would have happened. Later, he comes to realize that of course, he was pretending to believe he would really be driven mad, and his rash decision had dire consequences. And in Book 2, Prince Caspian, Lucy can't convince her siblings to follow the only-visible-to-her-Aslan. Later, talking with Aslan, she realizes she should have followed him on her own. She asks Aslan if things would have worked out more easily if she had done so.

"You mean," said Lucy rather faintly, "that it would have turned out all right - somehow? But how? Please, Aslan! Am I not to know?"
Aslan responds, "To know what would have happened, child? No. Nobody is ever told that."
"O dear," Lucy responds.
"But anyone can find out what will happen . . . what will happen? There is only one way of finding out."

What might have been? Of course we can never know. And of course, I believe that actually knowing wouldn't satisfy our curiousity, it would just make us miserable, knowing and that still not changing anything. So is wondering even worth the effort?

I think Aslan is right. We can only know what will happen by the choices we make. And while some of the ways our lives unfold are beyond our control, the closest I come to regret is when I have to wonder what might have been because I didn't speak up, or I wouldn't take a risk, or I wasn't brave enough, or because I thought of my own self before someone else, or because I just didn't dare. I don't want to have to wonder what might have been because I was too afraid to do something or try something or experience something.

What might have been? Impossible to say. But what will be? There, I have some input.

Life Sometimes

Earlier this month, my Great Uncle Bob fell and broke his hip. He'd been in a nursing home in Central New York for a few years, struggling with debilitating Parkinson's disease. He wasn't expected to survive surgery to repair the hip, but he did. Then, just earlier this week, his wife, who had been living in Texas with her daughter who was caring for her, my Great Aunt Betty, fell and broke her hip. Yesterday, somewhat unexpectedly, she died from complications from the fall. Then today, my Uncle Bob died. They had been, due to circumstances, living halfway across the country from each other for the last few years. But somehow, they were quite bound together, it seems, in the strange way that life presents for us sometimes. Two broken hips, one day apart.

I wasn't as close to Aunt Betty and Uncle Bob as I was when I was younger, but they certainly were important people in my life. My Uncle Bob was a United Methodist licensed local pastor. He baptized me in September 1979. (That's my mom with the 'fro holding me at my baptism in the bottom picture.) When my grandfather took ill when I was in high school, my Uncle Bob also tried very hard to stand in for him a bit. The newspaper picture is from an essay contest I won third place in, a scholarship from the Masons. My grandfather was a Grandmaster Mason (I think I have the term right), and my Uncle was a Grand Chaplain. He took great pride in stepping in for my grandfather.

In my ordination stole, which my mother had specially made for me with pieces of stoles of others in my journey of ministry, is a piece of one of his stoles.

The top picture is of my Aunt Bet - having fun dressing up as a Harley Biker for a day, a kind of fun humor I didn't always get to see a lot of from her. She and my Uncle Bob were snowbirds, living a great deal in Florida, and I remember them coming up to the summer garage sales in my hometown in July, with their "flea market" merchandise to sell, which I was totally fascinated by - lipstick that changed color when you put it on! Fancy jewelry!

I'm thinking of them today, and mostly, of just how life works the way it does. Please keep my family, especially my grandmother and her siblings, in your prayers.

Too hard or too easy?

It's January 1st of a new year. Some people think a new year is no big deal. Some people don't make resolutions because they've failed at resolutions before and they think they're setting themselves up for failure. Some people are ready to have a chance, artificially marked or otherwise, to start fresh.

I think I am caught (we are caught) always between being too hard on ourselves and too easy on ourselves. So often I wake up in the morning to have my mind instantly start racing through the things I need to do that day. It's not a particularly relaxing way to wake up! I get a frantic start to my day, and then I get overwhelmed and end up hardly accomplishing anything I set out to do. it's a frustrating cycle, and I see it impacting different areas of my life where I hope to make changes - my personal life, in my social justice activism, in my ministry, etc.

Sometimes, I think we're way too hard on ourselves. We set up unreasonable demands of ourselves, and then we're crushed when we fail again and again. We make standards that are impossible, and then feel inadequate when we can't reach our own standards. And so many of the things we set out to do just aren't necessary. We spend so much time, money, and energy on things that just really don't matter. We're too hard on ourselves.

But sometimes, still, I think we're way too easy on ourselves. Even where we see in ourselves the need for significant change, we're unwilling to do what it takes to make those changes. We can't seem to see beyond the immediate situation to the long term change we hope to create. We're not willing to take risks, especially risks that would make us vulnerable, open, putting ourselves out there for failure. We never even really try at what we know we should be doing. We make excuses and put things off and procrastinate and talk ourselves out of exploring things. We're so easy on ourselves.

How can we be both too hard and too easy on ourselves? I guess that's the conundrum of the human condition. We put a great deal of worry and anxiety, time and money, into things that aren't of ultimate importance. And we don't have time, money, energy, or inclination left to look at the things in life that are truly essential.

I've mentioned in the past that I have basically two sermons that I preach (I think), when I boil them down to their simplest forms:

1) God loves you unconditionally! There's nothing you can do to separate you from God's love. God is forgiving, endlessly. So don't be so hard on yourself. You can't ever earn God's love - it's a gift. So just accept the gift, and stop trying to be 'good enough' to deserve it. And

2) God wants everything from you! Giving God a little isn't enough. God wants it all. Discipleship isn't easy, doesn't fit easily into your life. Discipleship demands a complete change in direction. God calls us to action, and we're doing nothing. We need to get to work!

Those are of course simplified, but I could go farther and say: 1) We're too hard on ourselves. And 2) We're too easy on ourselves. I hope my sermons sound like they have more variety! But at the core, that's what I'm saying. Put another way: 1) God loves us, actively, without condition. 2) God wants us to love others, actively, in the same way.

All this is to say that at the start of this New Year, I'm not quite ready to give up on resolutions. Sometimes the potential I feel for myself and my ministry that I can't seem to figure out how to use overwhelms me. So I have to keep working to make room for change in my life, in my ministry, in my world. But this year, I want to make sure that my 'to do' list has on it things that are actually important. I know I can't get away from all of the minute details. The bulletins still have to get done. The forms still have to be filled out. But I want to make sure that at the heart of my life and my ministry, what's getting my time, my attention, and my heart is what really matters most.

Happy New Year!

My Five Favorite Posts of 2007

Sorry for the lack of blogging this week. I've been enjoying time in Central New York with my family, and also have managed to get sick, which I imagine is a common happening for pastors post-Christmas and post-Easter. Nothing serious, but I'm feeling pretty overtired and uninspired when it comes to being productive and reflective!

Onward... Every year, methobloggers are asked (first by Gavin, now for the methoblog itself) to come up with a Top 5 posts list for the previous year. I have to admit, after looking over a year of my posts, I was pretty unimpressed with my entries for the year! But here's what I have (in chronological order):

1) The Family Tree - Last year, Jay at Only Wonder wrote about a new site for 'social networking' genealogy: Geni.com. I checked out the site and rekindled my interest in genealogy, a passion shared by my cousins, my late aunt, and my late grandmother. I've since re-fallen in love with genealogy, and have made lots of cool discoveries about my family tree. I've reconnected with some relatives, 'met' relatives online for the first time, and discovered and/or confirmed relations to King Henry II, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and some Mayflower folks. And I've also become really curious in the stories behind the names. How did my Cherokee ancestor come to be a slave-owner? How did my ancestors bear so many deaths of their children? How did they take so many risks to cross the ocean to unknown worlds?

2) The hardest thing in ministry - This post announced my new appointment to the blogosphere. Not profound, but marking one of the biggest events in my life to date...

3) Pastor Nightmares - I wrote about the nightmares I've had relating to ministry, and one of them coming true: not having my manuscript with me when I had to preach. It actually turned out to be a good experience.

4) Transitions is a post about leaving one congregation and moving to another.

5) Things I Keep Meaning to Do is a reflection on my visit to CUMAC-ECHO in Paterson. This post is especially meaningful to me because it really points to some things that, as I say, I keep meaning to do, places of spiritual struggle I find myself in.

Eh well - with a cast and crutches and a move, I guess this hasn't been my most stellar blogging year, at least not from my own point of view. But I thank you all for reading anyway!

from Quick Hits: Cake or Death?

My brother Tim, a very sporadic blogger, has a nice new post up, in which he asks:

"How do I get myself to recognize the difference between being socially introverted and shy, and too timid to do the good in this world that I'm capable of doing?"

He articulates here something I struggle with frequently. I really believe that being a disciple involves being in relationship with others (that whole "love thy neighbor" thing). But I am, as Tim describes, extremely "introverted and shy." I find it a real struggle to reach out to others and take the initiative, and it takes me a long time to become really close to someone. But I often worry that my shyness gets in the way of me doing what I need to be doing.

What do you think?

Living with an Actor

I've mentioned before that my youngest brother, Todd, is an actor. Living with him can be - trying. I tease him all the time that his career is "pretending" for a living. Right now he has set up a mini-photo studio in the basement to work on his headshots. I constantly have to run lines with him for his auditions, and he's currently doing very loud vocal warm-ups for today's audition. We just had a conversation that went like this:

Me: "Actors. Can't live with 'em...."

Todd: "And they won't move out of your house."

Exactly.

Review: The Ethics of What We Eat: Why Our Food Choices Matter by Peter Singer and Jim Mason

I just finished reading The Ethics of What We Eat: Why Our Food Choices Matter, a new (2006) book by Peter Singer and Jim Mason (published also as The Way We Eat), which I picked up after my brother recommended it last year.

The Ethics of What We Eat follows three couples as they make choices about what to eat: Jake and Lee, who eat "the standard American diet," Jim and Mary Ann, who are what the authors describe as "conscientious omnivores," and JoAnn and Joe, vegans. The authors visit the homes of these three families, go food shopping with them, ask them about the food choices they have made, and the reasoning behind the food choices, and then try to track down the 'story' of the food purchased - where did it come from? How was it made?

The book is really excellent on many levels. First of all, the style of the book, following the three families, makes for a very personal, readable, 'real' book. The book is about 300 pages long, but I read it more quickly than the 100 page book I was reading at the same time because it was simply enjoyable and read like a story.

Second, the information is compelling. Obviously, what we eat and how we justify what we eat is a topic that can generate a great deal of disagreement, but I found the authors' arguments to be very persuasive. I found this particularly to be the case because they didn't always give the answer I expected. Vegetarians and vegans will often throw out a lot of 'reasons' why one shouldn't eat meat. Singer and Mason, who are huge animal rights activists, don't just support all of these reasons. Some of them they examine and find to be false and unsubstantiated. But they validate other reasons and add concerns I hadn't thought about.

Third, I think the books is accessible. Peter Singer, who I've written about before, is pretty 'hardcore' in his ethical writing, and very 'no-nonsense', straightforward in his style. He can be a lot to take. Not that I disagree with him, but I think he has a reputation of setting a standard higher than anyone can reach, which can be discouraging. But in this book, I think he and Mason speak to a wider audience. They certainly reach a conclusion of a high ideal, but they pointedly state that their goal is not to make ethical eating seem so impossible that no one thinks it is worth trying. I think they succeed in making steps toward ethical eating seem well within everyone's ability.

There is so much information in this book I can hardly think of how to share it in a blog post. Really, I just want to convince you to read this book, which is so much more articulate than I am on the topic. But here are some themes/concerns raise by Singer and Mason:

* Transparency - Mason and Singer have a hard time getting most people in the factory farming world to speak to them. Wal-Mart and Trader Joe's, stores they go to with their 'couples', won't let them film or record audio inside the store. When they try to hunt down where chicken or fish or other meat products sold at a store come from, they simply can't always find the information (no one they talk to seems to know) or people refuse to talk to them. In the first pages, the authors quote Lord Acton, "Everything secret degenerates . . . nothing is safe that does not show how it can bear discussion and publicity." (12) They also address deceptive labeling, like in eggs that might be labeled "all-natural" or "cage free" and what those labels really mean. Do you know where the food you eat comes from, really?

* Hidden costs - The authors address the idea that eating ethically costs more than eating conveniently. Indeed, I've often hesitated over buying something I know is more ethically produced because of the cost. $6 for a gallon of milk that is organic instead of $3.50. One purchase at a time it may not seem like much, but buying intentionally can be pricey. Mason and Singer address hidden costs, though, that make our food appear to be relatively cheap. They highlight, for example, people living near Tyson chicken farms, who are quoted saying, "Since Tyson took over the operation . . . there is a very offensive odor that at times has taken my breath . . ." and "My family lives next to the chicken houses. We caught 80 mice in two days in our home. The smell is nauseating . . . we went to the doctor and my son had parasite in his intestines." (30) The authors highlight decreases in bio-diversity, extinct species in marine life, water 'dead zones' where nothing can live because of water pollution from factory farms. All of these things add up to a very costly industry in order to produce cheap food. We may not be paying the costs when we shop at Wal-Mart. But someone is paying a high price for our cheap food.

* Animal Rights and Human Rights - The scenarios that Singer and Mason describe, the descriptions they give of how animals are treated on factory farms are vivid and horrific. 'Animal rights' per se is not why I became a vegetarian originally, but some of these descriptions really brought tears to my eyes. As a person of faith, I'm not sure how I can justify having another living thing so treated simply so I can eat food, when I have so many other sources of food available to me. But what I like about this book that if you can't be moved by an argument for animal rights, Singer and Mason highlight enough human rights issues that you should/could be sufficiently convinced to eat more ethically. You might be interested in health issues, like the ways in which the poor treatment of animals during their lifetime is passed on to us in our food, or labor issues, like how our consumer demand for cheap food means oppression of farm laborers, or environmental issues, like how our use of land, water, and energy to produce meat is devastating to the ecosystem. Even if from one angle you aren't interested in changing what you eat, Mason and Singer ask you to look at the issues from yet another angle.

***
I found this book to be extremely powerful. I've certainly been taking a hard look at my own food choices as a result of reading this book. Some of you know that I tried going vegan a couple years ago, only to 'fall off the wagon.' I've been thinking for a long time about trying again, and reading this book has certainly again nudged me in that direction.

All Saints Sunday

*Today, as in many churches, we celebrated All Saints Sunday at Franklin Lakes. I appreciated Michelle's post at 33 Names of Grace about celebrating All Saints for the first time in a new appointment. Michelle talks about how you are thinking about those you lost in your previous appointment while not yet knowing the saints who are being grieved in your new appointment. Today at FLUMC, we in particular remembered two saints who passed away since last All Saints - and for good and for bad, both of these women died after my arrival here in September. Of course, I didn't have long to get to know these two women. But I got to have a small part in their lives.

We also took a moment to remember other saints - people had time to come forward and light a tea light candle in memory of other loved ones, and write their name on a record of sorts of the day. I would estimate that about half of the congregation came forward to light a candle for someone, and it is a time I always find very special. After worship, I was talking with my mother (who is in town visiting) about why it's a special day...

I think that we're not great (as a society) at grieving and mourning and comforting each other in grief and mourning. And I think that we might be ok at being there for people in their first year of grieving, but not so much after the first year. But I think we always carry with us these saints, these losses. We always have these people who have shaped us and touched us in our hearts. And sometimes, I think, we're just waiting for a chance to be able to talk about them, share about them, remember them out loud and in public.

Today, I thought about my grandfather, my grandmother, my aunt. I thought about Al, the first parishioner I lost in Oneida, and Wanda, whose funeral was the last I led there, and the many names in between. I thought, too, of the new names I already know, in the way you quickly know the names of people who have shaped the church in the years before your arrival.

What saints are you carrying with you?

*Image: 'All Saints Day', for sale here.

Sam Davidson's Big Idea

Check out this post from Sam Davidson's Remarkablog. As I first started to read, I was expecting some critique of women's dating habits or something, but the post took an interesting, compelling direction:

"While this my be a shocker to approximately 0% of the population familiar with The Bachelor, since I don't follow the show closely, it just hit me. What the women really want (or, the men, in the case of The Bachelorette) is to win. The falling in love and finding a soulmate part doesn't even matter. They like the idea of falling in love. What they really want is to win.

So, they disguise their want in the camouflage of an idea. By doing so, they think they can hold out hope that what they are really going after is in fact the thing they want. They hope that by winning they'll also fall in love and find their happy ever after...

...In a similar fashion,

• We like the idea of writing a book, but what we really want to do is create something. So we talk about how we hope to write a book, but end up never creating anything.
• We like the idea of starting a business, but what we really want is to put our own dreams into practice. So, we let our dreams hatch and die because we think that we've got to get a small business loan before any of that can happen.
• We like the idea of helping poor kids in Africa, but what we really want is to do something that matters. So, we wait and wait until we get the chance to fly across an ocean, letting our chances at greatness dissipate in the meantime.
• We like the idea of fame and fortune, but what we really want is someone else to notice us. So, we think no one is watching as we live our lives on what we consider a small and insignificant stage.

What would happen if we chased after our deepest longings and worried about that big overarching idea later?"

I think Sam is on to something here that really resonates with me. I find it very easy to get caught up in the ideas, and very tricky to act on what's beneath. What about you?

(hattip: Gavin Richardson)

Moving Reflections

Some highlights of the last few days:

• I think I've cried more times in the last two weeks than I have in the last four years combined. (OK - that's a slight exaggeration.) My last Oneida cry was when I was leaving my strangely empty house there. My first cry here was when my mother and brother went back home to Central New York. I've been telling everyone about how my mother cried when she left, but not the part about me crying too - so here's my confession! I really hate crying. But I guess of all the crying I could do, this week has been full of the good kind.
  

• I've already misplaced (and found, thankfully) both my set of office keys and my set of house keys. The house keys I just set down in the restroom. But the office keys - I actually left those on the roof of my car. And then I drove around town and at speeds of at least 40mph. And then I thought to check on the roof of my car for my keys. And there they were!
  

• I've already met a fellow vegetarian at Franklin Lakes UMC. He's been vegetarian for a few years now - and he's ten! How neat is that?
  

• The parsonage here has heated floors in the entry way. Seriously!

• The parsonage committee members had the tables decorated with tablecloths, centerpieces, and place mats when I arrived, and had gotten me a lovely bouquet of flowers.

• I've forgotten about driving in New Jersey. I have to learn how to be cutthroat and aggressive again...
  

• Here is my last sermon at St. Paul's, and my first sermon at Franklin Lakes.
  

From New Jersey

So you don't think I've disappeared, here's a brief post to say I'm in New Jersey! This has been such an exhausting week. The people of Oneida sent me off with so many moving gestures, and the people of Franklin Lakes have already been welcoming me with acts of hospitality and kindness. I have lots more to say, but very little energy to say it right now... But thank you to all of you who have given me helpful thoughts about transitions.
Back soon!

The Long Goodbye

Sorry for the light blogging. I'm 9 days away from my move to New Jersey, and my calendar is jam packed with lunches and dinners with friends, family, and church folks. On the upside, I don't think I'll have to get my own food from now until I'm settled into New Jersey. I'm being treated to meals left and right, and having a good time spending time with loved ones.

The downside: This goodbye is very hard, and very long. On the 12th I sang a solo in worship - I usually sing a solo once a year for summer special music. I sang, "You are Mine," that beautiful song in The Faith We Sing. I was doing ok until the last verse when I realized people were crying, including my mother, who was there, and that did me in. And I hate crying in front of people.

This Sunday, the 19th, I celebrated three baptisms, the last three I will perform at St. Paul's. What a joy - celebrating baptisms - probably my favorite thing in ministry. I baptized my cousin's child (the picture is of him with my grandmother), and he dropped his pacifier into the baptismal font. My cousin said she'd have to keep it forever, since it is now clearly blessed in holy water. The choir director presented me with a blanket made in my favorite colors, since the choir director will be out of town on my last Sunday.

And all week I'm doing last things - last nursing home service, last meals with other parishioners who will be away this week, last administrative councils (ok - I didn't cry over that one.) My emotions are right under the surface, and honestly, I usually prefer to keep them down a bit farther than that!

At the same time, I head out tomorrow morning to spend a day in Franklin Lakes. Firsts, hellos: moving things into my office. Meetings with members of the staff and leaders of committees. First visit without being helped along in the day by my predecessor, who is now two months into his own new appointment. I'm really excited to be going - starting. I've been imagining what things will be like for months now, and I want to begin, dig in. There's so much hope in a new start, a new beginning, and it's almost like I'm starting a new school year, fresh packs of paper and all.

I've been blessed by thoughtful cards and notes from folks in both Franklin Lakes and Oneida. Folks in Oneida are writing to share memories of our four years together. Franklin Lakes members have been writing to wish me a speedy recovery, and to offer to help me get to know the town, take me to meals, settle me into the parsonage.

I know, oh faithful readers, you are probably tired of hearing about all this transition talk, but of course, this is virtually the only thing on my mind (besides the joy of getting to babysit my nephew this week.) Bear with me a bit longer!

My strategy, and a request for advice: In an effort to actually survive my last Sunday, I can't imagine referring in my sermon to the fact that it's my last Sunday. I think I'll preach just like it was any other Sunday. We're having a potluck following worship, and I think there will be time for goodbyes then. Does that seem sensible? Have you preached a last sermon somewhere? What did you say/do? How did you 'survive'?

Red Bird Reflections

I got back Friday night from my week at Red Bird Mission in Beverly, Kentucky. This was my second trip to Red Bird - I went in 2004 with my church as well. St. Paul's has had a team going to Red Bird for fifteen or so years, and the trip is pretty well supported by the whole congregation. We run a little league concession stand all spring and summer, which mostly pays for the trip. Participants really only need to 1) work at the stand and 2) bring some spending money for the meals there and back and on the 'day off'. This makes the trip an option for everyone - the team strives not to have cost be an issue for anyone.

This time around, I wasn't able to go to the work site with the rest of the team, since I'm still recovering from my ankle surgery, and gimping around with a cane. I worked in the Community Store instead, which sells used and donated items at reduced cost. The store is quite an operation. I worked behind the scenes, where all the preparing of items takes place. Nothing is wasted. Everything is used somehow, if it all possible. Items in the store are rotated every two weeks! I enjoyed getting to know this other side of Red Bird. I did feel frustrated and not particularly useful, but the nice thing about Red Bird is that they really do try to find a place for volunteers of all kinds.

The heat in Kentucky this week was pretty oppressive. The heat index kept us at about 105 or 106 most days. Here I was lucky, since I spent most of my day in an air-conditioned building. The Red Bird staff clearly worried about so many (mostly very young) volunteers out in the heat all day. The humidity was such that the floors were actually sweating (my cane was sliding all over the place). I thanked God seriously many times for air-conditioning in the sleeping cabins. I can't imagine surviving the week otherwise.

The Fire Department at Red Bird serves ice cream once or twice a week, a dollar a scoop. The sign indicated Tuesday was an ice cream day, but apparently that was a mix-up. So about 75 of us were waiting for ice cream on Tuesday, when it became apparent no one was coming. Finally, one of the firefighters drove in, just to pick up something from the station. He had no plans of serving ice cream. But seeing so many of us there, he had pity on us, and scooped up what ice cream was already in the freezer. I think if he hadn't, there was a serious chance of a riot taking place.

This area of Kentucky is beautiful. Wednesday is a day off for all the work teams to enjoy the area. We went to Cumberland Falls State Park. We drove through the mountains, and looked at all the coal mining operations. The miners trapped in Utah was clearly on the hearts of the people I met in the Community Store - they are mostly spouses or family members of miners, and I'm sure a dread of experiencing the same kind of accident is always with them.

Other random observations:

• Vegetarian cuisine isn't always easy to come by in Kentucky, though better than you might think. Red Bird works on serving vegetarian options at all meals, though I admit I had a lot of 'veggie sandwiches' - bread, condiments, lettuce, and shredded carrots. They make up for it with fabulous desserts, which are always vegetarian!
• The gender dynamics are - interesting.
  
• The Red Bird Missionary Conference office is tiny. But they get a lot done. The whole Red Bird campus is quite elaborate, and covers a huge range of services for the community.
  
• Kentucky has many strange insects all over that you'd never see in Central New York. I packed carefully to make sure they all stayed in Kentucky where they belonged.
  
• There are many Dairy Queens in Kentucky, and not nearly enough in New York. (For better or worse, there are several within 10 miles of Franklin Lakes...)
  

Out of Town

Things have been crazy here this week, and I haven't had time to blog. I won't be blogging for the next week either - I'm off to Red Bird Mission tomorrow. Beverly, Kentucky is an internet-free cell-phone-free zone for the most part, which is hard for me to endure! I hate being so disconnected. But I guess making myself disconnect for a while is a good thing too!

Packing and Moving

Now that I am finally cast-free, I have to begin the oh-so-fun work of packing and making arrangements with movers. I have a moving company lined up, although I am checking out one more company that I just recently had recommend to me. Sorting through all the different companies and trying to do an inventory of my stuff has been a challenge. Just how many bookshelves do I have? How many end tables? And I'm trying to be careful about reading all the fine print. What charges are going to show up on the day of the move that weren't included in my estimate? Do you all have any good/bad moving experiences to share?

Packing is a different story. My parsonage is huge - both here, actually, and in Franklin Lakes, and I'm just one person. And one cat. Ok, and one brother. My actor brother Todd is moving with me to New Jersey - he's thrilled he'll be so close to NYC. But he's also technically lived with me here in Oneida. It's just hard to count him because he's on tour or working in another state so often that usually it is more accurate to say Todd stores his stuff with me than that Todd lives with me. I had to accumulate stuff when I moved here just to have something to put in this five bedroom parsonage. I moved here straight from seminary, where I basically had a dorm-room amount of possessions. But, I accumulated.

Like many people moving, I suspect, I'm trying to be careful in my packing to decide what I really want. Do I need all this stuff? This coming Sunday the lectionary is my favorite gospel lesson - the first text I ever preached on - the one where the man decides to build bigger barns to store all his grain (Luke 12:13-21) God says to the man, "These things you have - whose will they be?" How many knick-knacks do I need to be happy with my home? How many DVDs that I never watch? How many place settings do I need for two people and a cat? How many pots and pans does someone who hates cooking really need?

Tell me about your moving/packing experiences, please. Any great pearls of wisdom?