Yesterday, my husband and I celebrated 25 years of marriage. Even though it was cold and rainy here in Ottawa, it was a special time of awe and disbelief. It's hard to believe that we've survived, and that we can still laugh and dream and enjoy each other's company. Perhaps we're together because both us never really thought of divorce as an option. That hasn't meant that everything's been smooth sailing. In fact, at points our marriage has been downright rough around the edges. And yet I can't say how glad I am that we've come through all the tough times and are still together.
Many years ago a friend of mine told me that if you make it to 25 years, the time following will be like a re-birth. I'm sensing that that is the opportunity ahead of us. To be content is a great gift and with that contentment comes the freedom to be adventuresome. There's nothing to prove and in terms of our relationship, nothing to fear.
The other big event is that my husband ALSO turned 50 yesterday. For some reason, we decided to get married on his birthday. He always gets teased about the fact that it must be easy to remember his anniversary. This double celebration is a good and bad thing. Sometimes it does feel that one gets shortchanged in relationship to the other marker.
With such a double marker coming on the same day, it doesn't quite feel that we've celebrated either. However, we're working on remedying that. For we are having a big smashing party on Sept. 5 AND our congregations (my husband is also a UC minister) is having a party for us on May 30.
The other milestone -- I turned 50 last Dec. 25 (yes, on Christmas Day) -- and so we've dubbed this year our 50-25-50 celebration. It sort of sounds like a fertilizer, doesn't it?
What does this have to do with ministry? After fourteen years of pastoral ministry, I feel more settled in my skin and in my relationship. When these aspects of your life are going well, you can be strong and vibrant in your work. For that I am extremely grateful, thanking God for the amazing gifts I have been given. I pray that I can continue to do this work. I was so afraid of turning 50, thinking that my life was half over. Yet, I don't feel that way now. I realize that every minute and day is a gift no matter your age. And when you truly see that, age is irrelevant.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Reflections on last Sunday
The shape of last Sunday was typical but also intense. I arrive at the church at about 8:50 a.m. and go to get settled in my office because I want to attend the bible study that starts at 9 a.m. I get waylaid by a couple of people who have questions and concerns and as I walk into the sanctuary someone from the bible study comes looking for me. It turns out that the normal leaders aren't there so I'm supposed to lead the discussion. I might have been asked to do this but I don't really remember being asked to do this so I'm a bit surprised. I get up to the bible study and voila, I'm leading it.
I usually prepare these kinds of things but the study is pretty informal and so soon we're talking about the reading from John, the one about doubting Thomas.
When 10 o'clock rolls around, I leave to get ready for leading the service at 10:30 a.m. I'm not sure if the choir is going to be up in the loft, and thus whether they'll be waiting for me in the downstairs rehearsal space, or whether they'll all be in the congregation. So, I find out they will be in the downstairs hall and so I go there to get ready and say a prayer with them.
The service goes okay. It's one of those Sundays when I don't get one comment about my sermon. That's always a sign to me that something didn't quite go right. Oh well, can't hit a home run every Sunday!
Then it's off to greet at the door. This is an important time because this is when I meet new people. There are a few this week but not as many as on Easter Sunday.
I walk out of the sanctuary and towards the reception hall. I take off my stole and put it in my office. Then I go to have some coffee and chat and catch up on what's happening in people's lives.
As soon as the after-church crowd has thinned out a bit, a group from the church who travelled to Nicaragua on a work project start setting up lunch. Four women and myself gather to reflect on their travels and to talk about a possible presentation. It was amazing to hear their experiences and to see the growth in their faith life. We plan on a Sunday morning worship component with an after church presentation. I leave the church about 2 p.m., driving one of the women home.
I get to relax for a couple of hours before I'm off to another meeting at a local restaurant. That meeting is set for 6 p.m. It's a Discernment Committee for an Inquirer thinking about becoming a UC minister. It's a gathering to celebrate the signing of the "interim" report. It's finished about 8 p.m.
One of the arts of ministry is to be able to served in short, intense bursts of activity. From 9 a.m. to 2 p.m. I didn't have one break. This is why ministers have to take care of themselves so well. I don't think it's the quantity of hours so much as the energy which is needed to constantly switch gears -- from laughter to tears to ideas to contemplation. I have to say that I'm glad that not every day is like Sunday. I enjoy it immensely but it is wearing. This week is a "reading" week for me, a time of non-church activities so that I have time to reflect and get recharged again. I'm feeling that I really need it this week. It's good to be able to get away and have time to see the bigger picture.
I usually prepare these kinds of things but the study is pretty informal and so soon we're talking about the reading from John, the one about doubting Thomas.
When 10 o'clock rolls around, I leave to get ready for leading the service at 10:30 a.m. I'm not sure if the choir is going to be up in the loft, and thus whether they'll be waiting for me in the downstairs rehearsal space, or whether they'll all be in the congregation. So, I find out they will be in the downstairs hall and so I go there to get ready and say a prayer with them.
The service goes okay. It's one of those Sundays when I don't get one comment about my sermon. That's always a sign to me that something didn't quite go right. Oh well, can't hit a home run every Sunday!
Then it's off to greet at the door. This is an important time because this is when I meet new people. There are a few this week but not as many as on Easter Sunday.
I walk out of the sanctuary and towards the reception hall. I take off my stole and put it in my office. Then I go to have some coffee and chat and catch up on what's happening in people's lives.
As soon as the after-church crowd has thinned out a bit, a group from the church who travelled to Nicaragua on a work project start setting up lunch. Four women and myself gather to reflect on their travels and to talk about a possible presentation. It was amazing to hear their experiences and to see the growth in their faith life. We plan on a Sunday morning worship component with an after church presentation. I leave the church about 2 p.m., driving one of the women home.
I get to relax for a couple of hours before I'm off to another meeting at a local restaurant. That meeting is set for 6 p.m. It's a Discernment Committee for an Inquirer thinking about becoming a UC minister. It's a gathering to celebrate the signing of the "interim" report. It's finished about 8 p.m.
One of the arts of ministry is to be able to served in short, intense bursts of activity. From 9 a.m. to 2 p.m. I didn't have one break. This is why ministers have to take care of themselves so well. I don't think it's the quantity of hours so much as the energy which is needed to constantly switch gears -- from laughter to tears to ideas to contemplation. I have to say that I'm glad that not every day is like Sunday. I enjoy it immensely but it is wearing. This week is a "reading" week for me, a time of non-church activities so that I have time to reflect and get recharged again. I'm feeling that I really need it this week. It's good to be able to get away and have time to see the bigger picture.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Crying for Chester
Yesterday, about 9:30 a.m. I took my dog Raffi out for his morning walk. As we walked down the street, we met Barb and her 14-and-a-half year old dog. Barb was sniffling and as Raffi ran over to Chester she said, "Say goodbye to Chester, Raffi, he's going to heaven at 10 o'clock."
I was shocked. I knew the day would have to come when Chester "was put down." He could hardly walk and he was in terrible pain. When you watched him walk along the street, you would swear he was on a slant. He was a beautiful tawny colour and friendly. He always let Raffi bark at him and there was never any retaliation. He had a gentle soul and was interested in everything.
I looked at Barb and her words sunk in. My husband James had told me that Barb had told him that the vet was going to come to the house to give him the lethal injection. What I couldn't quite get my head around was that here was Chester out for his final walk, with his time of death set, and here I was petting him and saying goodbye. I couldn't believe that in a bit over a half an hour he would be dead, gone, finished, no more. But what was worse was we as humans could decide the time and place.
Barb was crying as she spoke to us but I was amazed at how strong she was. There was another neighbour outside and she also had the chance to say goodbye to Chester. He was truly the neighbourhood dog. Everyone knew him. Whenever Raffi saw him out walking around, he always wanted out to see him.
Not only did everyone know Chester, but everyone loved him. The knowledge that his days were numbered was bad enough but to be present and have to face that death first hand was particularly painful.
I shed a few tears in the morning but it wasn't until later in the day when I was telling my husband about the experience that a flood of grief waved over me. The tears poured out of me. Why? Why do the creatures that we love have to die? And why do we have to take their lives into our own hands? I realize that it's a brave and merciful act, and I would have done the same, but I couldn't get over Barb's words.
"Chester is going to heaven at 10 o'clock." As a person who's walked beside a lot of persons who have died, I'm not unfamiliar with death. I've been privileged to stand beside the beds of two persons at the actual time of death. It seemed a natural process and not scary....so why, why did this feel so painful and NOT RIGHT?
My heart still aches for a beautiful dog that could not live forever even though we wanted him to. He was an angel dog, a dog that loved life and his owner, Barb, and it seemed, everyone. One thing I know for absolutely sure -- I will never forget him. Never.
I was shocked. I knew the day would have to come when Chester "was put down." He could hardly walk and he was in terrible pain. When you watched him walk along the street, you would swear he was on a slant. He was a beautiful tawny colour and friendly. He always let Raffi bark at him and there was never any retaliation. He had a gentle soul and was interested in everything.
I looked at Barb and her words sunk in. My husband James had told me that Barb had told him that the vet was going to come to the house to give him the lethal injection. What I couldn't quite get my head around was that here was Chester out for his final walk, with his time of death set, and here I was petting him and saying goodbye. I couldn't believe that in a bit over a half an hour he would be dead, gone, finished, no more. But what was worse was we as humans could decide the time and place.
Barb was crying as she spoke to us but I was amazed at how strong she was. There was another neighbour outside and she also had the chance to say goodbye to Chester. He was truly the neighbourhood dog. Everyone knew him. Whenever Raffi saw him out walking around, he always wanted out to see him.
Not only did everyone know Chester, but everyone loved him. The knowledge that his days were numbered was bad enough but to be present and have to face that death first hand was particularly painful.
I shed a few tears in the morning but it wasn't until later in the day when I was telling my husband about the experience that a flood of grief waved over me. The tears poured out of me. Why? Why do the creatures that we love have to die? And why do we have to take their lives into our own hands? I realize that it's a brave and merciful act, and I would have done the same, but I couldn't get over Barb's words.
"Chester is going to heaven at 10 o'clock." As a person who's walked beside a lot of persons who have died, I'm not unfamiliar with death. I've been privileged to stand beside the beds of two persons at the actual time of death. It seemed a natural process and not scary....so why, why did this feel so painful and NOT RIGHT?
My heart still aches for a beautiful dog that could not live forever even though we wanted him to. He was an angel dog, a dog that loved life and his owner, Barb, and it seemed, everyone. One thing I know for absolutely sure -- I will never forget him. Never.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
The Tale of Two Sermons
When I realized that I could choose the Lukan resurrection story, I new that I had a good sermon in the bag, one that I'd preached about six years ago.
I read through it and thought that I could update it for 2010. However, when I read through it, I didn't really see anything to change. So, I really had second thoughts about using it. It's a sermon called "An Amazing Day," and is basically the Lukan resurrection story told in a new way.
So, last Thursday I decided that I couldn't preach this sermon and sat down to write a new one. I wrote a new one with the same title (because the title had already gotten into the bulletin) and talked about how we read scripture and what it means for us on Easter.
I thought it was pretty good but I was still undecided about which sermon to preach. So, I asked my husband, who is also a United Church minister, if he'd read both and advise me in terms of which one he felt would be the better sermon to preach on Easter Sunday. Hands down, he said the first sermon. His perspective was "tell the story," don't explain the story. If you'd like to read it, check out the web site at www.glebestjames.ca.
He told me that I could use the second sermon for the first Sunday after Easter. Well, I'm not sure about that but we'll see as the days unfold toward next week.
I have to admit that part of me felt guilty using an older sermon. And yet, it's only every three years that you have a chance to use the Lukan resurrection story. I guess when it comes down to it...a sermon has power as long as you believe in every word you say. And that's absolutely true in this case.
Happy Easter everyone. Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed!
I read through it and thought that I could update it for 2010. However, when I read through it, I didn't really see anything to change. So, I really had second thoughts about using it. It's a sermon called "An Amazing Day," and is basically the Lukan resurrection story told in a new way.
So, last Thursday I decided that I couldn't preach this sermon and sat down to write a new one. I wrote a new one with the same title (because the title had already gotten into the bulletin) and talked about how we read scripture and what it means for us on Easter.
I thought it was pretty good but I was still undecided about which sermon to preach. So, I asked my husband, who is also a United Church minister, if he'd read both and advise me in terms of which one he felt would be the better sermon to preach on Easter Sunday. Hands down, he said the first sermon. His perspective was "tell the story," don't explain the story. If you'd like to read it, check out the web site at www.glebestjames.ca.
He told me that I could use the second sermon for the first Sunday after Easter. Well, I'm not sure about that but we'll see as the days unfold toward next week.
I have to admit that part of me felt guilty using an older sermon. And yet, it's only every three years that you have a chance to use the Lukan resurrection story. I guess when it comes down to it...a sermon has power as long as you believe in every word you say. And that's absolutely true in this case.
Happy Easter everyone. Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed!
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