A New Year

I've been at the Church of St. Benedict for a year and a month.
I've been married for four months and a day.
I've been living in this apartment for almost five months.
I've been living in Bolingbrook for almost 14 months.

2008 was a year of many changes for me. Most of my energy this year has gone into just weathering all those changes. It's been wonderful and exhausting. I'm ready for a year of doing things for the second time (although not the getting married part!), and putting down some roots. We'll probably buy a house and get a dog. And I like the advice of the Dalai Lama on living well: eat less, sleep more.

But perhaps I should pay more attention to the intangible things I want to do this year. I'm going to pray on that a little. I think prayer actually is something I need to deepen in my life. Maybe bible study, too. It would be a solid foundation for my ministry work each day, but I also find spiritual routines difficult because I have a terrible weakness for distractions! My aunt sometimes says she things everyone in our family had mild ADD. Sometimes I think most Americans have mild ADD these days. Perhaps with the exception of the Amish?

I've thought for many years about becoming an oblate -- an associate of a Benedictine monastery. Yesterday, I got a letter from a monastery I've been connected to for years, Holy Wisdom in Madison, WI, inviting me to consider their oblate program again. It's a big commitment, but I wonder if it would be a good discipline for me. Not a decision to take lightly.

And if we get a house in 2009, I will have a garden. This is both a concrete and a deeply spiritual joy for me. To have a relationship with a piece of dirt, to grow some of our own food, to plant flowers, to see worms and bugs... wow. That will be what I remember when I get flustered with house showings and layouts and numbers of bathrooms. In some way, having that sunny backyard will overshadow anything about the inside of the house. Stay tuned....

My bagger at Jewel saw all the vegetables I was buying and told me he's never eaten celery. Wow.

"I mean, I've heard about the whole peanut butter thing, but I just never tried it."

I think I don't realize how sheltered I am from the world out there.

Christmas reflux

When I was little, in the week after Christmas, my dad and I would exclaim over the Christmas trees that had already been abandoned in our alleyway, waiting for the garbage trucks. Now, my parents weren't like the couple in the beautiful brownstone two houses down who left their (gorgeous) tree up in their big bay window until early February, but the Haverkamp tree was up into the second week of January, usually.

Adam and I put our tree up in early December. I loved it. I put little rainbow lights on it, a few gold balls, and the half dozen ornaments we have so far. But today it's December 27, and I'm sick of the tree. The needles on the floor. That it blocks the window. That there are still wrapped presents under it for folks we haven't see yet. But Adam has convinced me to leave the tree up until we get back from Iowa on Tuesday.

I have become the people my dad and I scorned.

Maybe it's because this is my second Christmas as a parish priest? Christmas is a little more intense when you're responsible for producing a liturgical experience to mark its significance. But even if I never went to church, the secular world produces an intense Christmas cloud of color, music, and stuff stuff stuff.

I'm also tired of the colors red and green. So, I really appreciate the liturgical colors for Christmas: white and gold is clean and simple, but rich without giving me aesthetic indigestion.

I'm ready for some emptiness. White. Clean surfaces. Foods without copious amounts of butter.

After church tomorrow we're driving to Iowa to have a few days of Christmas with Adam's family. There will probably be red-and-green, decorations, a tree, ham and/or turkey, foods containing butter, and wrapped gifts in the neighborhood. It will be a great time, but my hunger for emptiness may need to wait a little longer.

Well, I may as well go eat another raspberry Frango.

God makes us and remakes us...

We did not make ourselves,
it was the Lord who made us,
and it is the Lord, too,
who has remade us

From a letter by St. Paulinus of Nola, found at Episcopal Cafe, daily reading for Dec. 17.

One of my parishioners, a long-time student and teacher of the 12-step movement, is slowly recovering from her cancer treatments. Healing is not easy, as she is teaching me; being remade can be painful. But she told me, quoting a 12-step phrase she used in her social worker days: "Every day is a new beginning."

I am often struck with how powerless I feel as a priest. Ironically, this happens most often on my day off. On Fridays, when I take my sabbath day, I suddenly have time to breathe and sometimes all that time gets me brooding: about what I could do better, or ways I have come up short.

The best way to bring myself back is through prayer -- filling the stillness of my sabbath day with a sense of the presence of God, instead of the busy buzz of my own fretting. Especially in the holiday season, where so much is going on and so much needs to be done, we do well to let go of own own agency in it all and remember to let God move through us. This doesn't mean doing nothing. (Although sometimes praying, to me, feels like doing nothing, which I know is wrong.)

We do have power. How will we use it? How will I keep worry or fretting from driving my ministry, rather than what the Spirit is calling me to?

God has made us and remade us. Jesus is coming into the world to be born. Every day is a new beginning. Thanks be to God.

from the Christmas pageant files

This was posted on the Christian Century website, Theolog. It's from Christian Coon, the pastor of a church in Deerfield. Here's his blog: GenXRev

"Who Wants to Be Mary?"

Our music director asked a group of seven-, eight- and nine-year-old girls this question a couple weeks ago, as children from the church gathered for their first Christmas pageant rehearsal. A handful of would-be Marys eagerly raised their hands, each wanting the chance to stand up front with a (probably uncomfortable) young Joseph and hold the baby-doll Jesus

After a bit of deliberation, the director chose a second-grader named Sophie. Sophie's eyes opened wide behind her glasses, and she whispered in joyful disbelief, "Me?"

Sophie's a bright young girl, the child who always has just the right thing to say during the children's sermon. I delighted in hearing about this scene. But some of the girls were disappointed. Elizabeth, also a second-grader, was told that she could be a lamb. She was silent for a moment as her brow furrowed; then she looked at one of the pageant coordinators. "Well," she asked suspiciously, "what does the lamb do?"

Just the question I would ask. "Lamb 1" is hardly a consolation prize for being Mary.

I was Gabriel three times as a child. No joke.

I finally got to be Mary in a living tableau when I worked at Gould Farm. The Farm stages a nativity in one of the barns every year, or used to. A group of staff and guests (or patients) would dress up and stand in the cold cold barn for a couple hours on Christmas Eve night, and people would drive out to come look, and listen to one of the board members play the recorder, hidden in the hayloft. Bucolic, huh?

It really was, actually.

The year I was Mary, I was also supposed to drive the 15-passenger van full of shepherds, wise men, and Joseph down the hill to the barn. And I was in a hurry -- getting a group of people dressed in costumes takes more time than you think. I hopped into the driver seat, dressed in my long, blue robes. I waited for everyone to hurry up and get their seat belts on, and then I threw that van into reverse and backed RIGHT into the minivan of the recorder-playing board member. WHAM! And rather than ponder these things in my heart, I'm afraid Mary swore, even with the baby Jesus doll lying right next to my seat. It was a story told about me for many months after. My friend Monica still likes to remind me of it, 10 years later.

Luckily, both the Farm and the board member had insurance.

My mother leads prayer

My mother teaches middle school kids at a private Catholic school in the city. She leads her homeroom in prayer every morning. My mother in many ways is a very patient woman. However, she has little patience for some of the "special intentions" her students make during prayer time, many of which, I'm afraid, cause her to roll her eyes at the sheltered lives her students lead.

For instance, once a girl asked to pray "that my grandmother have a nice birthday at the Bulls' game tonight!"

My mother said: "Well, is there any chance that she WON'T have a good time at the Bulls' game tonight?"

The girl thought about this and said, "Well, no."

And my mom replied, "Well then, I'm not sure we should pray for that, then."

Over the years, my mom has also heard many prayers for animals and pets. She created a separate category called "Prayers to St. Francis," to keep prayers for animals in a different category from prayers for people, or say, an end to war, famine, and pestilence, for example. (Not that her kids every pray for those latter things.)

Mostly, my mom keeps her cool about these things and lets them go by. But not always, as you can see from the story above. And this week, she told me, a girl prayed "that my kitty will stop climbing the Christmas tree."

My mother lost it: "I'm afraid in this case, [Sally], St. Francis can do nothing to help you."

[Sally]: "Oh, ok. My mother gets mad."

Mom: "Just tell her to relax."

On the Alternative Anglican Province for North America

You may want to read this first:
Episcopal Split as Conservatives Form New Group

On the Proposed Formation of an Alternative Anglican Province in North America

The Very Rev. Matt Gunter, Dean in the Episcopal Diocese of Chicago

As members of the Episcopal Church and of the World Wide Anglican Communion, we are saddened by the creation of a supposed alternative Anglican Province in North America. We regret that some members of the Episcopal Church have decided they are unable to worship God with us or to bear witness with us to the Good News of Jesus Christ. We are diminished by their absence from our midst. We suspect they are diminished as well. We need the encouragement and challenge of one another in our diversity in order to more fully live into our call to be the body of Christ in these times.

Contrary to what some claim, the Prayer Book and the doctrine of the Episcopal Church remain solidly in line with traditional creeds of the one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church. It remains the official Anglican presence in the United States. The Episcopal Church does much good in reaching out in service to a hurting world in the name of Christ’s kingdom. It is a church where the scriptures are read and the sacraments celebrated. While there is considerable disagreement on a range of contentious contemporary issues, we remain a comprehensive church which includes members of Evangelical, Catholic and more Liberal convictions. There are bishops, priests and laity who, while sharing some of the concerns of those who are leaving, are unconvinced that splitting the church solves more problems than it creates.

We are saddened by the cycle of provocation and reaction in the church which all too often mirrors the polarized rhetoric of our society. As sharers in Christ’s ministry of reconciliation, we all need to find better ways to engage one another over serious disagreements that reflect forbearance and charity toward one another if our witness to a broken and divided world is to have any credibility.

In the Episcopal Church:

All are welcome (and welcome back)

All will be encouraged.

All will be challenged.

All will be transformed by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Or, then there is this Response:

Top Ten Reasons to Start Your Own Non-Geographical 'Anglican' Province

10. Frequent travel to warmer, more exotic climes: The Southern Cone, Africa, etc.

9. Evangelicals get to triumph the 39 Articles and Anglo-Catholics get to ignore most of the 39 Articles and everyone else doesn’t really care as long as there are no LGBT people around or women leading worship (neither of which is mentioned in the 39 Articles).

8. You get to pray with your own prayer book – or not – and in your own way: standing up with your arms raised; or head bowed and on your knees; or with prayer beads in hand; or, while listening to traditional hymns played on an organ or contemporary songs accompanied by a praise band.

7. Never any confusion or need to consider the ‘real meaning’ of scripture – a male, orthodox priest, bishop or primate will tell you what it means.

6. You know the ‘Way, Truth and life of Jesus’ and no one else does, and you don’t have to share it with anyone unless they agree to sign the Jerusalem Statement.

5. You have sole ownership of the ‘faith first delivered to the saints’.

4. No yucky female bishops or primates thinking they can tell you what to do – female priests in the former Diocese of Pittsburgh, however, are in impaired communion with the former Bishop of Fort Worth (but the male priests, apparently, are not).

3. No LGBT people in the pews or in vestments, unless they are healed and celibate and tithing – and even then . . . . .

2. You can really believe that Jesus loves you best, even if the Archbishop of Canterbury doesn’t.

And, the number one reason to start your own non-geographical Anglican province:
1. The folks over at TEC will always leave the porch light on so you can find your way back home.

by Elizabeth Kaeton

Our Christmas Tree

Adam grew up with artificial trees, only. I grew up with real trees, only. He was gracious enough to let me have a real tree for this first Christmas together! We bought it today, from some Michigan guys who camp out in a church parking lot every December, sleeping and eating in a cold trailer.

It's a bit mis-shapen. Maybe you wouldn't notice that kind of thing. But my dad was very particular about our tree every year: it's shape, fullness, and symmetry... He still wanted the CHEAPEST tree possible, but each tree (in for example, the Home Depot parking lot) was carefully examined for quality.

I saw this tree, and I liked it right away. It's sort of a Charlie Brown Christmas tree, though. This isn't its best angle -- it actually looks a little less skinny-on-top and fat-on-the-bottom in person. For some reason, I like that it's uneven and has holes in it. It's seems like a very honest tree.

We haven't decorated it. In this way, I am still like my dad. You let the tree "rest" for a day or two first, so the branches can "settle."

Here we are, in our apartment parking lot, bringing the tree inside.

Adam couldn't get over how weird it was to him to bring a real tree into our house. Or even to carry it. "It feels like I'm holding a bazooka!" he said. And so, he aimed it accordingly...

Sedan Chairs

Not that I'm getting any ideas, but a friend and I were talking about these things, and how unsteady they must have been. Watch Pope John the 23rd wobble about.

This is what church dorks talk about.

And earlier today, someone DID say to me: "Everything is on YouTube." This video makes me think that must be true... commentary in Italian and all.

From the sermon cutting floor

So, I collect all manner of scraps and threads when I'm writing a sermon, but I never can use all of them. And I just can't stand to throw them away! Here are a few from this week, late on a Sabbath Eve:

Tony Campolo, a well-known author and speaker, said once in a sermon: “Frankly, the argument against believing in God or against placing one’s trust in Jesus is every bit as persuasive as the argument for it. So I chose to choose to believe and trust. And that choice has made all the difference.”


Nicholas of Cusa, a dialogue between a Christian and "a Gentile" (or nonbeliever), circa 1444:
—translated by William F. Wertz, Jr..

Gentile: I wish to know, who are you?
Christian: I am a Christian.
Gentile: Whom do you adore?
Christian: God.
G: Who is the God, whom you adore?
C: I do not know.
G: How can you so earnestly adore, what you do not know?
C: Because I do not know, I adore.

In Iowa

Adam and I are in Iowa for Thanksgiving, with his family. We're having a slow, quiet day, waiting for the festivities to rev up.

I decided to talk a walk this afternoon, to loosen up my legs and look around the neighborhood. Adam's parents live on a road of farms and homes on big tracts of land. The local government is building a new sewer line out here, so there are huge mountains of dirt, big earth-moving machines, and lots of trucks around.

As I was walking of of those dump trucks drove by, and the driver waved. A big wave! So I waved back.

And then another truck drove by. And that driver waved, too. So I waved again.

And then began a slow parade of never-ending, jovial, friendly truck drivers. Some waved, but not all -- but something in me felt like I should wave to all of them. That it was my neighborly obligation. And I began to feel a little stressed out.

I finally turned around and came back. The city-girl just couldn't handle it.

Advent Conspiracy

This is pretty cool. You know the usual, "Jesus is the reason for the season" stuff. This takes it a little deeper (and it's a well-designed and edited video, too).

And who doesn't want to join a CONSPIRACY?

Economic crisis and personal morality

An article from slate.com that I thought I'd share.
Don't get depressed, It's not 1929

Here's my favorite quote:
Instead of workers with 5 o'clock shadows asking, "Brother, can you spare a dime?" we have clean-shaven financial-services executives asking congressmen if they can spare $100 billion.

It's true; there are many differences between this economic crisis and that one 80 years ago. And yet I think the commonality that has so many of us looking back to the 1930s is the sense of the unknown -- the failure of institutions that we didn't think could fail. And now gas prices have plummeted. It's just weird. It feels like something more is happening than just a plan ol' little recession. Time will tell.

Regardless, many clergy I know are saying that the crisis has motivated them to focus their churches on the things that are really important in our lives -- family, God's love, service to the needy. I have preached that, too. People are responding to that message; it's hitting home for most of us right now.

But sometimes I romanticize the Great Depression, because there are so many wonderful stories along the lines of: "we didn't have much, but we had each other!" Or stories and statistics I've heard about the genuine joy and happiness of people in third world countries, even though they live with dirt floors and water an hour's walk away. Does poverty make human beings better, more moral, and happier people? Christianity would say no: the potential to sin is always present in us, we are human.

This is also a quote from the slate article:
...wealthy Treasury secretary, Andrew Mellon, saw the downturn as a force for good ... "People will work harder, live more moral lives."

Eek. Easy for Andrew Mellon to say! He was one of the four richest people in America in his time.

But I sometimes long for a community where people are interconnected and share what they have, where we can find enough in very little. I think of the early Christian communities. (Acts 2):
42They devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and to the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer. 43Everyone was filled with awe, and many wonders and miraculous signs were done by the apostles. 44All the believers were together and had everything in common. 45Selling their possessions and goods, they gave to anyone as he had need. 46Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, 47praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.

But am I being simplistic? How does the coziness and simplicity of small, interdependent (closed?) communities (large interdependent communities, in my opinion = communism, which is beyond the scope of this blog post) compare with the freedom, creativity, and fertility of relative wealthy communities? Education, communication, pluralism, ease of travel...does it makes us better citizens of the whole world, and not just our immediate communities? (To say nothing of our ample food, sturdy shelter, clean accessible water, health care...) Am I saying the community of Acts 2 was provincial and judgmental of the outside world? Well, the Bible can be pretty judgmental of nonbelievers or those who don't conform to the immediate community. (Ananias and Sapphira, the insular Johannine community, Matthew's sheep and goats, routing out the original inhabitants of Canaan...)

I don't know. I'm still sorting it out.

Gratitude and thanksgiving

We studied these verses as our devotional at the bishop's committee meeting last night. (That's what we call our church board, as a mission parish in the Episcopal Church.)

“If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is ‘Thank you,’ it will be enough.”
- Meister Eckhart (Dominican monk and mystic, 13th century)

(2 translations of 1 Thessalonians):
Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.
- St. Paul, 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18, New Revised Standard Version

Be cheerful no matter what; pray all the time; thank God no matter what happens. This is the way God wants you who belong to Christ Jesus to live.
- St. Paul, 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18, The Message (Eugene Peterson)


People has some interesting reflections. One of us said "Thank you" didn't seem like enough -- she talks to God about everything. Other didn't like Peterson's translation of "rejoice" as "be cheerful." It sounded superficial, like "Keep smiling."

The whole idea of giving thanks can start to seem trite around Thanksgiving. It can be a Pollyanna exercise, or a list-making, or something that shuts down our valid feelings of grief, anger, or fear. And yet, it's a pretty powerful spiritual discipline to try to find something to thank God for in all circumstances. As one person said in our meeting, it's a discipline that opens you up to God's presence, instead of closing you up in despair or anger. "Giving thanks in all circumstances," while not always easy, might actually make our lives better.

But the wording: "thanking God no matter what happens" sounds more like a directive or a forcing of gratitude. And spiritual disciplines can never be like self-punishment and be effective. Sorry Eugene -- so often I find your translations to open up God's word, but here I think they close it in.

Daily rituals

Sometimes I wake up early enough that I see a man who lives across the street from us on his balcony. It's always at about 7am. He stands on his little balcony with his coffee cup, looking out at the morning. After a few minutes, he goes back inside. Sometimes Adam and I make coffee in the morning, mostly lately, we don't. Sometimes I wake up at 6:30am, sometimes I don't. Sometimes I pray, sometimes I read the daily office, mostly I don't.

Since moving to Bolingbrook, I haven't quite settled on a morning routine. So many things have changed for me this year (moving, a new job, ordination, getting married, and moving again) that finding something that looks like "normal" or "routine" has been the journey of the year for me. And then the wireless internet in our apartment tempts me away from things like prayer to things like blogging, Facebook, checking email, and reading news sites.

I'm reading Kathleen Norris' new book Acedia & me: A marriage, monks, and a writer's life. I've been meaning to read it for weeks, and finally a blog post by my friend, Tripp, pushed me to actually go and pick up a copy. In the second chapter, Norris talks about the repetition of daily activities as a form of self-respect. Things like brushing your teeth, wiping down the kitchen counter, taking a walk, and taking a shower "enhance the ability to take pleasure in oneself, and in the world." In other words, they can be ways to "pray without ceasing," as Paul tells (1 Thess. 5:17). I like that.

But does Facebook do that, too? I'm not exactly sure.

I think I'll go take a shower.

another quote I like

“Prayer doesn’t change God, it changes me.”

- C.S. Lewis in the movie "Shadowlands" (not sure it's really in any of his books?)

a new president

I find it hard to blog about huge events: Easter, my wedding, and presidential elections, among other things. It's easier for me to post photos than to try and reflect on meaning or "what happened."

But I have no photos to post about election night, which blew me away. Nothing seemed cliche -- red states going blue, McCain's concession speech, Grant Park bursting at the seams, Obama's acceptance speech. I admired McCain's choice to talk about race and American history, and his evident deep emotion and personal responsibility for his campaign. He was solid and collected, and perhaps too hard on himself.

I cried, because I can't believe after centuries of American racism -- the conscious or subconscious belief that black people belong at the financial or emotional bottom of our society -- a black person is our president.

I will be frank and say that I voted for Barack Obama. I think he is a truly gifted leader, a phenomenal orator, and a visionary realist. But I am somewhat apprehensive for his presidency. I'm afraid so much hope could easily be disappointed. I'm afraid for his personal safety, as a black man in the most powerful position in the world. I'm afraid that a Democratic presidency and Congress could make a lot of rash and bully-pulpit decisions.

But I hope that Obama's history of calm and grounded responses in the midst of crisis, his amazing skill for oratory and communication, and his choice to jump right into to choosing his presidential advisors and staff show his commitment... and somehow, a lack of self-centeredness, in my eyes. I haven't seen much back-slapping or triumphalism this week.

It's also sort of amazing to have a president who is from my neighborhood of Hyde Park and the South Side of Chicago, who is part of my generation, and who spent so much time at the university that shaped a big chunk of my life -- the University of Chicago. He's an intellectual! We haven't had an intellectual president since... the early 19th century???

I hope we have just elected a president who cares more about this country than he cares about his own fame or power. That may be naive idealism, but I feel like we have someone who does his homework, who cares about history and the constitution (his specialty at U of C law school), and who doesn't bask in the light of his own power. He and our government will remain in my prayers.

Quote of the day

"There cannot be a crisis next week.  My schedule is already full."

- Henry Kissinger

Jon's wedding

A few shots from my brother's wedding:

Adam and me

vows...

Jon and Laurie, recessing down the aisle

My parents

the wedding party -- 18 attendants, plus flower/ring kids!

It was a wonderful day. I couldn't stay up for the whole reception because I'm a pansy, but I danced with aunts, uncles, and cousins, drank the homemade limoncello, and had an all-around good time.

off to Jon's wedding

I found a dress.
I have a black wrap to keep warm -- since it's going to be rainy and cool in St. Louis.
I've got an almost fully-formed sermon done.

And I'm very excited -- my little brother, getting married? Jon is three years younger than me. We were buddies, growing up: equal parts loving and annoying to each other. I was (just a little) bossy, and I liked to do things like make my sensitive little brother cry, or fake that my legs had become crippled one day after school, before our parents got home. Now that was bad. Damn acting skills. And yet, we walked to school together every day (in the city, where that is actually still possible), we watched cartoons together, we told jokes that only the other sibling ever understood.

And now my little brother is marrying a wonderful woman, who bosses him around (a little anyway, right Laurie?), laughs hysterically with him over their jokes -- they cook together, they throw parties, they play softball, they work out, they watch nutty TV shows, she goes to his band gigs, he goes babysitting with her... they're a wonderful couple. I'm glad Jon and I could be there for each other, growing up, and now I'm glad that Jon and Laurie can be there for each other, and that Adam and I can be there for each other.

Sometimes I think love is just all about luck. You can't earn a great partner, you can't go shopping for one at Sam's Club, you can be the best person ever and it doesn't mean that you'll have the luck to find another person to share your life with, or of course, even that your marriage will last forever. This is classically unfair.

But I give thanks for all the grace God gives, whether it's the grace of marriage, or the grace of a vocation, or the grace of friends, or the grace of a healthy body, or the grace of a talent or desire that can be fulfilled. And it makes me think of Herbert's poem -- since I'm Episcopalian, I often think of love or grace as like a table, set for us:

Love bade me welcome, yet my soul drew back,
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-ey'd Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
If I lack'd anything.

"A guest," I answer'd, "worthy to be here";
Love said, "You shall be he."
"I, the unkind, the ungrateful? ah my dear,
I cannot look on thee."
Love took my hand and smiling did reply,
"Who made the eyes but I?"

"Truth, Lord, but I have marr'd them; let my shame
Go where it doth deserve."
"And know you not," says Love, "who bore the blame?"
"My dear, then I will serve."
"You must sit down," says Love, "and taste my meat."
So I did sit and eat.

Where your treasure is...

From theolog.org (my new favorite site to cite, lately!)

Talking to the “end-times economists”

by Amy Frykholm

Last week, on American Public Media’s Marketplace, I heard something remarkable.

Reporter Sean Cole went on a lighthearted mission to check in with a few “end-times economists.” It wasn’t the content of what he found—that the DOW somehow coincides with “biblical...perfect completion,” and that the Internet’s “Rapture meters” are heating up—that I found interesting. What was truly unusual was the way that Cole ended his report. “Whether you're a believer or not,” he said, “maybe now is a good time to ask ourselves what we worship.”

It’s discouraging to see people interpreting everything that happens as prophetic fulfillment of some random verse of the Bible. But I was struck that Cole neither took these Christians' concerns too seriously nor poked fun at them—instead, he transformed them into ancient wisdom. Whether he intended this reference or not, it was easy to hear: “Where your treasure is there your heart will be also.”

Small update on the car

Mysteriously, my car has been working just fine. I was sure it would never start again. But then it did! I talked to a couple mechanics. One thought I needed a new clutch assembly. Another listened to my list of misbehaviors and said, "Hmm. None of those things sound related to me. And if it's working again, there's not much we can do to figure out what's wrong." The first mechanic also asked for my husband's phone number, in case there were questions he had that I didn't understand. Not sure I'm going back to that place.

So, we get a little more time to ponder our next step. I like the Honda Fit, and we might go ahead and make an investment in a new or slightly used one before the new year. Although it is going to cut a chunk in our budget! The nice thing about old cars is that they're paid for and they cost less to buy insurance for.

But the tricky thing about old cars is you're never sure just when they might stop working again. Needless to say, we're driving Adam's car to St. Louis tomorrow.

My brother's wedding

My brother is getting married this weekend in St. Louis. I'm officiating at the service, which will be wonderful, but it also means I have a little more to do to get ready! We're leaving tomorrow morning.

I have my "script" ready to go (with all the vows, blessings, etc.).
I need to write my little sermon -- although I have some bare bones to start with.
I have my stole and alb ready.
But I need to buy a dress!!!

I'm going to wear my collar for the ceremony, under the alb, but I want to change out of my professional clothing for the reception. Problem is, I just haven't gotten myself out to brave the stores until, um, today. And the wedding is Saturday. I had thought I would go all the way to Oak Brook to shop, to have more choices, but it's a 25 minute drive. Or I could take my chances with the Macy's here in Bolingbrook -- it's a small Macy's, but it's close, and surely they would have something??? Sigh.

Lucky thing about weddings is that when you're not the bride, you don't have to worry so much about what you're wearing.

Supporting kids and refugees in East Africa

A little publicity: This Sunday and next Sunday at St. Benedict, we're selling crafts made in Africa, through a mission organization called African Team Ministries that supports AIDS orphans, refugees, and school children in East African countries. Come on down and buy a necklace, some napkin rings, wooden sculptures of animals or nativities, and other fun stuff!

Public graves

My friend, Jesse Zink, is in South Africa working at an AIDS clinic and orphanage through the Episcopal Young Adult Service Corps.

But Jesse's recent blog entry on a funeral for a 10-month old baby really brings home the way people is most parts of the world live with death as a constant. He posts this photo of a row of empty child-sized graves, "waiting to be filled."

Can I imagine living in a community where there are empty graves, that I might walk by every day on my way to work, just waiting... prepared for the inevitable? And for children??? A not just a few, a long row of them.

In this country, most of us are cremated and blown into the wind; often, our deaths don't leave visible markers. Even at churches with columbariums (with niches for ashes) or memorial gardens, the markers for a death are small, often just a name plaque, and all but invisible to the public eye.

I'm not exactly an advocate for bringing back cemetaries, I am just noticing differences in how death is, and is not, a part of my life and our public life.

The view from our balcony

Our over the subdivisions toward the western horizon! Those bright lights on the right are a sports park, and the streetlight in the foreground is over the very-attractive garbage dumpster paddock next door.

Installation photos

Slideshow of my installation last month... here.

How important is it that Christians vote?

I read this article on a Christian Century blog this afternoon. It suggests that perhaps it doesn't matter if Christians vote. This is a hard idea for me to swallow. Much as I am sometimes tempted to stand dramatically apart from the culture in which I live -- the Amish have such a clear witness to their way of life! as do monks, whose way of life I have always been drawn to, and even the two years I spent working at Gould Farm was a kind of "life apart" -- I am primarily a student of H. Richard Niebuhr, who insists that Christ operates in culture, as much as Christ stands apart from culture. For instance, I'm not sure abstaining from voting will suddenly expose its "hypocrisy," per below. And yet, I think the author is right that Christians should stand apart from the mud-slinging and craziness of the campaign in these recent days. It's not about leadership or real issues anymore. Both of these men are good people and good politicians -- why are various sides of our country demonizing both of them? Mob mentality is a dangerous thing.

What would Nietzsche do?

By Christopher Benson

Instead of asking, "What would Jesus do?” I am inclined to take a subversive approach to the presidential election by asking “What would Nietzsche do?”

Consider this from Nietzsche’s Human, All Too Human:

All political parties today have in common a demagogic character and the intention of influencing the masses. . .all of them are obliged to transform their principles into great frescoes of stupidity, and paint them that way on the wall. Nothing more can be changed about this. . . . one must adapt to the new conditions, as one adapts when an earthquake has moved the old limits and outlines of the land, and changed the value of property.

I face an existential dilemma: endure the “great frescoes of stupidity” painted by the political parties or vacate the voting booth. As this presidential campaign draws closer to Election Day, with sludge flying, I am seriously considering Nietzsche’s proposal “to keep out of politics and stand aside a little,” as he did.

When too many people are speaking, as in our bloviating 24-hour cable news and blogosphere, Nietzsche advises silence. He says that for the few conscientious objectors, “seriousness lies elsewhere; they have embraced a different concept of happiness; their goal cannot be embraced by any clumsy hand with just five fingers.”

G. Scott Becker concurs in an essay in Electing Not to Vote, saying there will be circumstances when “a sudden, widespread Christian abstention from the electoral process could serve to expose the hypocrisy that has seeped in it.”

I am persuaded that my discipleship is not incumbent on voting. Should I abstain from casting a ballot, I will do so expecting to emerge from silent isolation, as Nietzsche describes, and try “the power of [my] lungs again,” calling to others “like men lost in a forest,” so we can “make [ourselves] known and encourage each other; of course, when [we] do, various things are heard that sound bad to ears not meant to hear them.”

Christopher Benson recently earned an M.A. in liberal arts from the Graduate Institute of St. John's College. He works as a freelance writer in Denver.

Worries and prayer

We need to make a decision about my old car. My beloved hatchback! First gear won't "catch." And I'm feeling a bit paralyzed about what to do next -- it reminds me of people who "don't want to know" about their health, and so don't go to the doctor because they'd rather remain in denial. And I'm not ready to decide what to do next about this car: my old friend. Do I have it towed and price a new transmission? You can't really sell a car that won't go anywhere (except to a junkyard?). If we get it fixed, will I want to I drive for a while on the new transmission, or sell it right away?

A very generous parishioner has loaned me her extra car until we figure out the situation with this one. I am very grateful for her trust.

There are a number of worrying things on my mind lately: The car. Wall Street. An intense week at the church, in terms of some meetings I've had with people and a number of late nights.

And so, for many reasons, I find myself yearning to pray better. I tend to get wrapped up in "doing" when I'm stressed out, which is not good for me. I need some prayer and stillness to function at my best.

Yesterday, I had the chance to sit at a piano and play some hymns for a while. It was a really good mix of "doing" and praying. My fingers could move around, my brain could focus and problem-solve, but essentially, I was immersing myself in feelings and words that were pointing me back to God. I should do it more often.

Millennium Development Goals, take 2

So, I made a mistake and blogged about the MDGs a month ago, here. Oops!

The MDGs : learn more about them here. Maybe they're a fad. Maybe there are too many of them (eight!). Maybe you're sick of hearing about them.

But this is true: a little money can make a big difference for someone. A mosquito net. A uniform to wear to school. Some rice for a refugee camp. YOU have power and resources to make someone else's life more tolerable, or even really, truly better.

Adam and I tithed our wedding gift checks to two emergency relief organizations. It felt good. I hope it makes a difference. I encourage you to make a difference, too.

Wedding pictures

Here are our pictures, for those who aren't on Facebook...

Posed photos

Ceremony

Reception

Rain and cars

Here in the Chicagoland area (I love that term!), we got some vicious rain last weekend. Flooding, downpours, monsoon conditions... I felt like I was living in that Ray Bradbury short story that you probably read in high school -- "All Summer in a Day" -- where there's a pioneer settlement on Venus, where it's always raining except for one day every seven years.

We don't have a garage, so my little Golf sat out in the Bradburian rain, and after a day and a half, the engine wouldn't turn over. This happened once before, last year, after a big rain, so I didn't think too much about it. (And a side benefit of being married is being able to borrow your partner's car or have him chauffeur you around.) But then, a day or two later, my car engine still wouldn't turn over. Then another day, and it DID turn over, but I couldn't get the car to snap into gear and MOVE. I've been warned that my transmission's days are limited. I finally called AAA today, and began to say goodbye to my little car.

My sweet little car. I bought it in Massachusetts eight years ago, during my stint at the Monterey United Church of Christ. It rolled over the Berkshire hills with me, went back and forth to Chicago a couple times, then brought me back there for good, rolled around the city, went on many roadtrips, sat idle for much of seminary, and has been shuttling me around the western suburbs for almost a year now. Now it's a mess, but it feels like a second pet. Or my alter ego. Adam's mom had offered to sell us their 2004 Civic if we wanted it, but it just doesn't seem the same as my spunky, dark blue hatchback. Sigh. Much melancholy and resignation. And if she's not ready to sell it, then how on earth will I decide what kind of new car to get? As if I don't have enough to think about already.

Of course, when the tow truck guy showed up, he gave the ignition a try, messed with the pedals, and it started.

So I don't have to buy a new car for a while again after all. But at least it got me thinking, so when ol' Gertie does heave her last ho, maybe we'll have some idea what the game plan is. Although I still don't think I'll be ready to say goodbye.

"What racism does"

I don't think we should feel guilty about how we perceive race -- I think curiosity would be more helpful: curiosity about how it plays an oh-so-subtle role in our perceptions of people, and in our perceptions of ourselves, too. Who we are as inviduals is marked by the race we are, because we live in a society where that is important and noted constantly. Deep down, we all have a very subtle, insidious belief that someone "white" (whatever that means) is a better, more normal, and more responsible person than someone "black" (whatever that means) or "not white" (etc.). Look around you at the grocery store sometime and test yourself.

Again, I think feeling guilty about this is a dead-end street. Let's be curious... and more aware of ourselves, as people of all colors (since we don't live in only a black and white America). Let's not be afraid of race -- "the only thing we have to fear is fear itself" -- but let's be curious, honest, and eager to continue becoming a nation where race might become a adjective more like "heritage," and not stereotype or government category check-box.

The following is not meant as a partisan statement -- I don't want to express campaign opinions, as a local clergyperson -- although this man's words do suggest a partisan preference. But I am posting it as an observation about how race subtracts from the level of grace people receive from our society's standards. Barack Obama has had to be much more squeaky-clean, basically, to run for president, than John McCain. His wife, too. Nothing against the lives the McCains have led -- but a black man could never run for president and be forgiven for the same things the McCains have.

(Forwarded to me by Kirstin Boswell Ford, a friend, and written as a letter to the editor of the Fort Worth Star-Telegram by Kelvin LaFond.)

What if John McCain were a former president of the Harvard Law Review? What if Barack Obama finished fifth from the bottom of his graduating class? What if McCain were still married to the first woman he said “I do” to? What if Obama were the candidate who left his first wife after she no longer measured up to his standards?

What if Michelle Obama were a wife who not only became addicted to pain killers, but acquired them illegally through her charitable organization? What if Cindy McCain graduated from Harvard? What if Obama were a member of the “Keating 5”? What if McCain was a charismatic, eloquent speaker?

If these questions reflected reality, do you really believe the election numbers would be as close as they are?

This is what racism does. It covers up, rationalizes and minimizes positive qualities in one candidate and emphasizes negative qualities in another when there is a color difference.

-- Kelvin LaFond, Forth Worth

Wedding

Here's a picture! One of my church members took it. Adam is still editing our official pictures -- I'll post some of those soon. I'm wearing my grandmother's wedding dress, and Adam and I are both wearing flip flops.

It was a great day. The wedding was at 10:30am, and I got to the church at about 7:45am, before anybody else. It was nice and quiet. My friend Kristin came to help me do make-up and put the dress on. Adam's aunt, Peg, came and did my hair in a glorious upsweep. Then we did posed pictures before the service, which got kind of chaotic, but it was all good.

We wanted the wedding to be as much like a worship service as possible -- so we marched in to a hymn ("For the Beauty of the Earth"), had readings, a sermon, and communion. Then we marched out on a hymn, too. My brother played his mandolin, my uncle played his guitar, an old seminary friend played piano, and my soon-to-be sister-in-law sang a solo of a hymn, bluegrass style! Both Adam and I felt like we got married, but also that the service was bigger -- about how God calls us all to love and to service.

We scurried out afterwards to take some more pictures on the lawn (see above), and then went down to the church basement to visit with all our guests. We fed each other a cupcake somewhere in there. It was easygoing and casual. Just nice to hang out with 200 (!) of our friends, family, and parishioners. The food was amazing -- pulled pork sandwiches, pasta primavera, spinach salad with cranberries, fruit salad, Texas caviar (a salsa), chips, eggplant parm for vegetarians, and four kinds of cupcake. And two kegs of beer that we didn't come close to finishing. We still have 10-20 lbs. of the frozen pulled pork in our freezer. (A gift from Adam's uncle Craig, a hoglot manager.) Then about a couple dozen close friends lingered and stayed late, and we could hang out with them and really talk.

It was perfect. We had friends and family helping left and right -- Adam's family cooked our wedding luncheon, my family worked on set-up and decorations, and everyone helped clean up. Adam and I barely lifted a finger, it seemed. We were surrounded by the love of so many people.

I am so grateful for the day. What a blessing. More pictures soon...

Ah, the history of my denomination

I know, I'm getting married tomorrow. Don't I have better things to think about? Couldn't resist: (from the Episcopal News Service daily news digest)

"On August 29, 1535, Pope Paul II excommunicated English King Henry VIII, who had been declared by an earlier pope as "Most Christian King" and "Defender of the Faith." "

I love how my denomination was founded by heresy and divorce. Sort of. I mean, it's a good yarn anyway, right? And it keeps us from taking ourselves too seriously.

Getting married

Oops. MDG blogging day is SEPTEMBER 25, not August. (Thanks, Raisin!) Oh well. Can't seem to keep any dates straight lately! (See two posts ago...)

I've been lying awake for two hours. I wish I could sleep, because I was up at 5:30am yesterday to drive in for the Hyde Park Farmers' Market to buy flowers with my aunt. Oh well. Probably won't sleep much tonight either!

It is both unbelievable that we're getting married tomorrow -- me? married? -- and it seems totally unremarkable -- like, well, of course we're doing this. The dress is hanging on the closet door in a garment bag. The rings are in a bag in the closet. Adam's parents and Aunt Becky will cook all the food today. My aunt Beth and dear friend Monica will make corsages and lapel flowers and table bouquets. My dear friend Shuli is bringing dozens of bright, polyester saris to cover the tables and decorate the parish hall. And just so many people are coming to join us -- that's really the best part: getting married, and sharing it with all these people we love. What a crazy thing. (Although I confess, wearing my grandmother's long, heavy satin dress is pretty great, too.)

Having so much help around here is sooooo great. But staying in Adam's student house without air conditioning is a challenge. It's like a big castle, which is charming in winter and stifling in summer. But Sunday night, we'll be in cool and breezy northern Minnesota! On the shores of Lake Superior, which will probably be too cold to swim in, but right now, that all sounds pretty nice. The hotel has free canoes for guests, too.

I'll be back in town to preach the following Sunday, and I think it will all seem like a rush of life just blew by. But I'll be pretty happy, I think. :)

The Millennium Development Goals

I promised to blog on the MDGs today, with Episcopalians For Global Reconciliation.

I got a little burned out on activism and social justice in college, I'm afraid. I tend to get overwhelmed by extreme poverty and suffering; I shut down and get fatalistic about the dangers and limits of human finitude, and I find myself with little hope in what God and humans can do in the face of evil and death. Not good.

1.2 billion people on this earth live on less than $1 a day. Today, I bought a coffee and a cookie for $1.49. On Saturday, I went with a group of my church members to pack food for Feed My Starving Children, an organization that has developed a nutritious rice-soy blend that makes a meal for one person for 15 cents! They send this food mix all over the world, mostly to -- as you might guess -- starving children. I could have lunch every day for fifteen cents and still be a healthy, strong person!

I struggle with my everyday life -- ups and downs, financial strains, to do lists, the stress of ministry. But I live in a wonderful apartment. I drink clean water. I have had twenty years of formal education. I am a woman and I am not a doormat. I don't go hungry. If Adam and I have children, chances are our babies will live to be older than five years old. AIDS hasn't decimated the community I live in.

I could just sit back and feel lucky. But I think it is my responsibility to provide for my brothers and sisters in need in this world -- "whatever you do for the least of my brothers," Jesus said, "you do for me." What is this privileged life we lead worth if we do not share what we have?

Although it is a process. I wish I could feel as good about spending $50 or $100 on a hunger organization as I do on a pair of shoes, for instance. Anyway, these are the UN's Millennium Development Goals. Find a charity that makes a difference and give them some money. You'll feel good. It will actually make a difference. Maybe build a relationship with this charity, support them over time, and get emotionally involved. And you'll prove that humans are as capable of love and good, as they are of evil and destruction.

Goal 1: Eradicate extreme poverty and hunger
Goal 2: Achieve universal primary education
Goal 3: Promote gender equality and empower women
Goal 4: Reduce child mortality
Goal 5: Improve maternal health
Goal 6: Combat HIV/AIDS, malaria and other diseases
Goal 7: Ensure environmental sustainability
Goal 8: Develop a Global Partnership for Development

Heidi to Adam: Wow...!
Adam: What?
Heidi: We're getting married on Friday.
Adam: Um, Saturday.
Heidi. Right. Whatever.

Life escalates

Gosh, I'm getting married a week from tomorrow.

One hour, I'm totally anxious about things like table decorations and ugly basement walls, and the next I feel relaxed and eager to see people I love. And to get married, of course.

I decided not to change my name. Being me, I still go back and forth about this a bit -- I could become Heidi Haverkamp Frieberg legally, but just continue to use Haverkamp professionally? This is such a new era in my life, but at the same time, I'll still be me. Aw, I'm just a waffler! And when I talk about it, I make Adam tired. So, I'll be quiet now, since he reads this. But then again, having something else to obsess about keeps me away from the table decorations. Maybe being Heidi Frieberg wouldn't be such a big change, But then, I already have a nameplate that says HEIDI HAVERKAMP on my office door (as of just last week!) and plus I told the congregation last Sunday I wasn't changing my name, as a result of a joke someone made during announcements. (waffle waffle waffle)

On another note, last night, Adam and I had dinner with my mom's Norwegian cousins -- Ragnhild and Odd -- which was SO fun. I haven't seen them 17 years, since I visited Norway with my mom when I was 15. They're in their 70s, but they seem much younger. They came all the way out here for my wedding. Two other Norwegian cousins are coming for my brother's wedding in October. It means a lot that they would come so far for us. :)

And Adam and I are getting more and more RSVP's and packages from Crate and Barrel in the mail. It's really more wonderful than I ever thought - not in a materialistic way, but because I feel so "thought of." My family always teases me that I LIVE to be the center of attention, but really, like most people, I am more likely to imagine that people don't notice or think of me much (I know, how could a priest who stands in front of 50-80 people every week ever think that???). But it's true. Receiving gifts is just a very touching thing... I feel very grateful.

Next week, I'll work a few days, and then it begins! My buddy-aunt will be in town, which will be a blast. She, Adam, the parents, Ragnhild and Odd, and other friends, in various combinations, will do things like get the church spaces ready (drag tables from all manners of corners of the building), get flowers from the farmers' market and grocery store, if necessary, to make centerpieces, corsages, and lapel flowers, find some way to make the basement parish hall a little prettier, and probably a few more things I've forgotten about. I think it will be fun.

saturday evening

Saturday evenings can be really wonderful. Tonight, I'm finishing my sermon -- usually a pretty profound experience for me each week... unless I've left things a little too long. But the sermon is already in a good place tonight.

Adam and I went for a walk to watch the sun set over this prairie land. I'm actually coming to appreciate the beauty in new houses with very bare landscaping (never thought I'd say that!). But when there's a huge, orange sky behind them... it's just pretty, in a very basic, simple way.

We saw an Asian family sitting down to dinner together in one house. And bunnies scurrying across the path. And a Black family having a party in their backyard, with a little boy sitting alone on a big rock in the front yard, looking down the street, deep in thought. Then there was a porch full of Indian young adults, having a party, in our apartment complex. I really like Bolingbrook's diversity. (Bunnies, too.)

Other nice things: We made our own pizza for dinner. The comcast guy came today (we can finally watch some of the Olympics!). We made me an office corner in the study. I'm oven-roasting tomatoes (they'll be like "sun-dried" tomatoes, although the sun actually isn't hot enough in the Midwest to do it the New Mexico way).

Adam designed me a set of business cards. I've been banging my head against the wall trying to get them right in the office. Microsoft Word and the printer both have been conspiring against me, and it just wasn't worth DIY anymore. And Adam's are actually quite stylish! Thanks, babe.

Ok, back to the sermon. And I'm looking forward to the camera coming back from the factory soon -- we had to send it back for repairs.

wedding approaches

It's interesting: the closer the wedding gets, the less stressed I am about it. I think I'm a fatalist: we don't have time? Oh well, we just won't be able to do anything about it. The sanctuary isn't big enough for everyone to have a seat? Well, we can't do anything about that now! The farmers' market flower woman can't do the bouquets? Well, we can buy some bouquets at the grocery store. The friends bringing the tablecloths from Minnesota got stuck in a storm? Oh well, we just won't have tablecloths.

Hopefully this doesn't mean the wedding will end up being crappy.

I remember my friend Shuli complaining about the wedding of a friend of hers, and how inhospitable it felt -- as thought they hadn't considered their guests at all. It was also a picnic-style reception, although I don't remember the incriminating details. I hope my fatalism doesn't bring that to pass.

We're getting married, people we love will be there, there will be food, there will be chairs (although maybe not quite enough?). I hope no one feels neglected. And now I may go look at the RSVP count, and worry just a little about the chairs again...

wedding gifts

Well, our wedding gifts have started trickling in! We got the ubiquitous Kitchen Aid mixer, and a set of heavy ceramic white plates and pasta bowls. They're very satisfying to handle and to eat from. (And hopefully they won't break easily.)

Early on, I felt strange registering for wedding gifts. I've been living on my own for 10 years now. I have a lot of stuff already (true, a lot of it is "student stuff.") But people have told me how much they enjoy giving something tangible to us as a sign of their support of our life together. And the feeling goes both ways -- our friend Jim said of one of his wedding presents: "You know, I haven't seen my old friend (Ed?) in years, but whenever I use our blender, I think of him and wonder what the heck he's doing."

It's nice to be remembered and feted as we take this step in our lives, and meaningful to make some of the people we love a literal part of our new home together.

moving chaos continues

Why is it so hard to find a home for those last few things? There is still quite a family of objects, papers, and various stuffs that we still don't know where to settle in this new place. So, they're still living in boxes, or in strange places on the floor.

And the living room is bigger than the last one, so there's a lot of empty space! Sometimes it seems simple and open, sometimes it seems a little lonely and sterile.

It takes a while to make a home, huh?

moved in

Well, everything from the old apartment (380) is in the new apartment (352)! And it's a wonderful place -- the breezes blowing through this third floor aerie are just phenom. -- and the sunshine! Aw yeah!

And I have two amazing friends, Megg and Jim, who came to help us. They are saints. I mean, I'm at an age where helping people move isn't really fun anymore. And never again. Movers baby, all the way.

I'm surprised how calm I am, after such a chaotic day. But I feel pretty great. I mean, I've had a chance to rest, eat, drink, and have a few wonderful phone calls with friends, and I've been working on finishing my sermon, which is feeling great. So that all helps. But I was thinking, though, that moving and then having my first Sunday back at church the next day would be pretty crazy, but so far, I feel good. Praise God for small graces.

Right now, I'm propped up on the bed, looking out over a couple miles of view, the sun shining in, while kind kind Adam and his parents are finishing cleaning the old apartment, and getting the last dribs and drabs out. Now, back to my sermon so I can finish and we can go get some dinner at some very pleasant chain restaurant of one kind or another around here.

Moving

Well, Adam and I have started moving our stuff into the new apartment we'll share when we get married. It's quite a job. Of course, I just moved last November, so although I am excited, I'm not quite as excited as I will be when we're settled in and the kitchen's unpacked and the pictures are hanging on the walls. And I think that will be a while, still.

This apartment is up four flights of stairs, too. And five different doors:
1. Front door (locked).
2. Second front door, into apartment lobby.
3. Door to stairwell.
4. Door out of stairwell.
5. Apartment front door (locked).
We moved some things yesterday, and boy, it was a slog. Adam was a waterfall.

I usually get pretty attached to the places I live. Even when I lived in a seminary cinderblock apartment, with hard, pocked linoleum floors, and windows that burst into frost blooms in the winters, I grew to love living there. Also, all my neighbors at Seabury were also my friends, which is rare! But I'm not finding it too hard to leave this apartment. Yes, I love the view and the trees that back up to the windows. I love how quiet and removed it is from the road. I love the built-in bookcase. But I don't feel emotional about leaving. Maybe it's because moving away is part of beginning my marriage to Adam? Or because ministry is emotional work, and I don't have extra emotion to spend on things like nostalgia for apartments-I've-only-lived-in-for-nine-months?

In any case, this weekend I'm changing abodes. Yet another major life change to add to the year! Move #1, New Job, Ordination, Engagement, Move #2, then Marriage (in 3 weeks!). Whew! I think I'm going to look back on this year in wonder, but for now, I'm just living it.

Back from vacation

Adam and I went away for two weeks --- to see his family, in Norwalk, Iowa, and then to spend time with my parents, and my brother and his fiancee, at a cabin in southwestern Michigan they've been renting for like 25 years. There's just one other cabin between the back door and the waves of Lake Michigan, and it's on a slight rise, so you can see the water and the sunset. It's a place I've gone to almost every August, even just for a day or two, since I was seven years old. It's rustic: not insulated, there's only one real bathroom (there's a toilet and sink in the basement, but they're rusty and a little icky), and the original builders did all the wiring themselves! It was built in about 1940. That's a photo Adam took of the family sitting on the lake porch, where we'll sit and talk or read... for hours sometimes. Note the rummage-sale style furniture! Terrific.

We spend a lot of time focusing on good food when we're at Grapevine -- here my brother imitates the posture of the "beer-can chicken" he's grilling (chicken grilled sitting with a half-full can of beer up it's behind). (Sorry if that's a bit crass.) He and Laurie, his fiancee, also made us some amazing eggplant parmesan with a puttanesca sauce (tomato sauce with olives and anchovies), and homemade BBQ sauce with orange zest, fennel, and other punchy ingredients. We also had blueberry pancakes, goat cheese rolled in roasted strips of zucchini, lots of good wine and German beer, and of course, ears and ears of sweet corn.

With all that eating, we also try to keep moving. We usually head down to sit and swim at the beach every day after the sun comes down in the sky, around 4pm. My parents try to do a three-mile walk every morning, followed by a swim in the lake. We younger folk tend to sleep in, but Adam and I did a couple hikes that week, too. Here, we hiked out into the dunes to see "The Big Tree," which is a 200-year old white pine, left behind by lumber companies at the turn of the century, for some unknown reason. If you climb to the top, you can see Lake Michigan. It's super-easy to climb -- like a great big ladder. We used to climb it all the time when I was little, but your hands get covered with pine sap and scratched-up with the bark, which also gets in your mouth, nose and eyes when you look up at the person climbing above you. Bleh! So we just took a picture this time. Small note: when I was a little girl, I romantically decided that the name of this pine was "Four Winds." Ah, young precociousness.

We also spent a morning in Saugatuck -- an art colony that has become a tourist trap. We looked in at a couple of galleries -- this is Constance Petter Gallery. It was alright, but I think I've been doing this for too many years (maybe since I was 12?), so it's sort of predictable now. And the town is just so kitchy.

(That's a quilt! My brother loves it. It's $10,000, unfortunately.)

So, that's the nutshell of week 2 of our vacation. I'll tell you about Iowa in another post!

Gene Robinson's blog

I'd like to share a blog: Bishop Gene Robinson, the first openly gay bishop in the Episcopal Church, is blogging about his experiences in England. He is not invited to the Lambeth Conference (or international retreat of Anglican bishops), there, but he is present and speaking about the power of God's love at many events close by. His latest post is about a young man who came into the church where he was celebrating Mass, and yelled "Heretic!" at him. It's quite moving: http://www.canterburytalesfromthefringe.blogspot.com/

farming again!

Today I worked at a local organic farm -- the Green Earth Institute -- for a half day. This is the second time I've been -- a parishioner recommended the place to me. I worked on two organic farms in my early twenties, and I've loved small farms every since. It's also interesting to interact with people and talk about religion, but not at church! I never bring up religion, myself, but of course, when people find out what I do, we talk about their spiritual beliefs. I don't mind -- I usually learn something, actually.

Today, I cut spinach, helped wash it and dozens of heads of leaf lettuce, and picked cauliflower and broccoli. I got to take a head of cauliflower home! It's the sweetest cauliflower I've ever tasted -- picked the same day I ate it. Of course, I couldn't quite eat ALL of it! But it was amazing. Can't wait to eat more. And it was great to do something so quantifiable; ministry isn't usually like that.

Moving again

Well, today was a day spent against a checklist:
Adam and I combined checking accounts.
We found his wedding suit, and shirts, pants, and ties for the groomsmen. Men's Warehouse, baby.
We took my grandmother's wedding dress to a tailor. FINALLY.
We signed all the paperwork to move into a two-bedroom apartment (instead of my one-bedroom) in my apartment complex in August.

Yikes. Moving is just terrible. And I love my one-bedroom apartment -- faces the forest preserve, lots of quiet and privacy. But the new place is a third-floor, as opposed to my first-floor, and has more windows and light. It's got a beautiful layout, with the living room and a fireplace at the center, which lead you back to a sunny dining room (that's almost an atrium) and open kitchen. The two bedrooms open out from either side of the entry hall. It also has two bathrooms, which I'm not wild about, since that means we'll have to clean both of them. But that's ok. There's also a larger balcony, with sliding doors and a view for miles, over the subdivisions and watertowers of Bolingbrook and Naperville. Ah, suburbia. And we can still see the forest preserve, so that will be nice.

I'm both anxious to get it over with, and somewhat in dread of how busy August is going to be. We'll move three weeks before the wedding. Eek. I wish we were ready to buy a house, but that will have to wait a while longer.

And I'm so happy to have the dress to a tailor. I've been chasing down this one and that, and some haven't called back, one is too busy, and one I visited was just too snippy and mean. The woman I found is sweet as she can be, loves the dress, and seems like a pro (let's hope!). She's extremely petite, like a little elf, and probably around 60. Putting the dress on again, in her little fitting room, just made me love it all the more, too. It's all this wonderful creamy satin. It was my grandmother's dress -- made in the late 1930s for her wedding to my grandfather, in rural Iowa. She died before I was born. My father's sisters both wore her dress for their weddings. And now I will have the privilege of wearing it. In some ways, it will be the closest I will ever be able to be to her, physically.

I'm so relieved, with the wedding only 54 days away or something, to finally get those alterations started. (I'll need at least one more fitting.) I'm glad Adam and I didn't have a two-year engagement or something, but I can understand why people do it -- all these details do take time and energy.

Intern reunion

Earlier this month, I was in Wooster, Ohio, with some of my best friends from college. This is Kauke, the main class building at the College of Wooster, with a bunch of us standing in front... (Jonathan took this picture).


It was really great to reconnect with these folks -- they were my first colleagues in ministry. It was very grounding for me, starting out this year as a priest on my own at St. Benedict's, to spend some time with them and remember the roots of my sense of call to this work. And to see them in their ministries, in so many different arenas, doing well and facing challenges.


I also got to reconnect, sort of, with my family -- five of us went to Wooster, and when they renovated Kauke, we all got together to give money for a brick with our names on it! It was fun to finally see it.


We stayed with a wonderful family from the Presbyterian church we all attended in college, Westminster. They had this wonderful deckhouse where we spent a lot of time (see below; and those are hammock chairs behind us -- wonderful things. I'm trying to register for one for the wedding!).

We looked at pictures from college, listened to music from that time, and did a lot of nostalgia trips, but we mostly talked about our lives in the present, which I think was a good and healthy thing -- and I think it means we'll continue to stay connected, since our friendships aren't just in the past.

Adam's travels in Bosnia

Memorial at Srebenica, Bosnia.

Right now, Adam is traveling with his denomination (The Christian Church: Disciples of Christ) and Church World Service in Bosnia, where they do combined mission work in microloans and peace and reconciliation work. He and 5 other seminarians are there with 2 leaders who have long-standing relationships with many people in Bosnia, until Sunday.

Adam is posting photos of what they are seeing on his photo website. There are photos of the memorial at Srebenica (8732 men and boys shot in warehouses, woods, and fields there in the summer of 1995), of Sarajevo, of an Interfaith Chorus, and things like baclava! -- with more to come. They are meeting Muslims and Christians both, working together.

Sometimes miracles can come out of great evil.