The Cat Ate My Sermon

A Hairy Tale

2010-11-04T06:57:00.006-04:00

So here it is. I absolutely, unequivocally do not want to lose my hair. (photo on left from 2005)

Call it my one vanity.

I am not one to wear much adornment. I have little jewelry in my possession. In fact, I was 40 before finally getting my ears pierced, and in the two years since then have found wearing earrings somewhat of a nuisance, dealing with ongoing infections in my left ear lobe.

Nor am I one to wear much make-up. I prefer the natural look, wearing a bit of foundation and some powder. Also a bit of eyeliner. Never wear lipstick, excepting the rarest of occasions.

And then there's my hair. Long, thick and straight. It's become somewhat wavy over the years, and that is noticeable when I let it air-dry.

I love my hair.

Some history. One of my earliest memories of childhood. I don't even know how old I was, possibly first or second grade. My family was eating out in a restaurant. The waiter came to the table and asked my parents "What would HE like." I was mortified at being mistaken for a boy. Indignant at the comparison. How could he not know I was a girl? I reasoned it was because my hair was too short. So I let it grow.

Except for a few years in high school, when stuffing hair under a marching band hat was a nuisance, I have kept my hair long. In college, I really let it go, and by my mid 20's my hair was past waist length. I cut it perhaps twice a year, each time taking off about 6 inches each time, yet even that was barely noticeable. When I graduated from seminary, I had to wear my hair in a long braid down my back because it was covering the red master's degree hood I had worked so hard to earn.

The past few years I have worn it shorter. A little below shoulder length, but still long.

And now I face chemotherapy. My hair will not be short. It will be gone altogether. Compared to my childhood self, I am not so worried about being labeled a boy. (though I will hold the label of "cancer patient") Well-meaning people say things like "it will grow back" - "it's worth it in the long run" - "what is hair compared to saving your life" - "you can wear a wig" - or I love this one "you might be one of the rare few who doesn't lose their hair." Maybe...but not counting on THAT. Please don't give me that one. Those odds just don't interest me.

Folks, let me just put it out there, I am not stupid. I know these things. And unless you've gone through it yourself, don't even try to understand. And even if you HAVE gone through it, for goodness sake, don't be patronizing. Empathy, yes. Patronizing, no.

Don't try to offer rationalizations. Don't try to offer fixes or substitutes. These things are not helpful when I am feeling very strong emotions. I may ask for suggestions about what I could do. THEN, you can offer your suggestions. Otherwise just say "I'm sorry."

My hair is one of my most recognizable features. I love my hair. It is an integral part of my identity. A year after my mom finished her treatment, her hair is still extremely short. Maybe I will look fine in short hair...but let's get through the 24 weeks of baldness first.

24 weeks. 168 days of looking in the mirror. (numbers are obviously approximate here) Being reminded each and every day that cancer cells have invaded your body. Never mind the other side effects...

I am pissed. So very pissed. And not just about the hair. But everything. I didn't ask to have cancer. Nobody does.

Cancer sucks. It really, really sucks.

Thoughts From a Dream

2010-11-04T06:39:00.004-04:00

I just awoke from a troubling dream. In it I was walking across a bridge, and in the distance saw what appeared to be a lighting storm. The clouds obscured my view, yet the lightning seemed to be concentrated in one cluster, and it was drawing closer to me. I started to hurry. After I got over the bridge I was in a large open area, and suddenly what seemed to be lightning was actually a column of fire - sort of looked like a waterspout that you'd find over a body of water.

It was coming toward me, and I began running away from it. But it kept coming. I tried to judge its direction, but every time I went the opposite way, it seemed to follow me, getting closer and closer. I began to tire. The fatigue was incredible, but I kept dodging the fire. I felt myself panicking, wondering how I could keep the energy to save myself from being consumed by the fire. The fear was intense, and hopelessness was started to seep in. I finally was able to drag myself into a friend's home, and then that part of the dream was over.

When I awoke, it was not hard to see the correlation with my current circumstances. With everything that has been going on in my life the past several years, I had no trouble with the metaphor. I do feel relentlessly pursued by some destructive force. It seems no matter what direction I try to turn, it follows me anyway, getting closer and closer. I feel enormous fatigue. I am weary, and I wonder how I will get through this.

My friends, colleagues, and family have been wonderfully supportive throughout this. I know I have people to whom I can turn. Yet in the recesses of my own mind, I know that this is my battle. I have to go through it. I know I am not really alone, but I am tired - from everything that has gone on before - and I just don't know how I am going to get through this next year.

Joining the C Club - Part One

2010-10-17T19:21:00.005-04:00

Okay. Most women know that every month they should be performing a breast self-exam. I never thought much about it, but did take some time every so often to poke around to make sure everything was normal. I mean, really, at 42 years old I never expected to actually find anything. I started getting mammograms at age 37 when my gynecologist lectured me on the need to establish a baseline. Fine. I went and got scrunched in the machine that was obviously designed by sadistic men. And a week later they called me back because of something shadowy. Turned out to be nothing. I learned that getting called back was relatively normal.

At age 40, the mammo's became an annual experience. Walk in to the little room and wonder aloud to the technician, "has it really been a year since this torture?" And this year I faithfully went in at the end of March. Exam by the doc, and then off to be squeezed in the machine. A few weeks later I got the form letter that stated my mammogram was fine and see you next year.

I had an appointment with my GP on August 5th. Just a routine wellness exam, to check all my blood levels and make sure my high blood pressure hadn't gotten any higher. The night before the exam I was sitting on the couch watching TV. I hadn't done a breast self exam in awhile, so I began to push and prod, not thinking much about it.

But then I stopped.

Something was there, right below the skin. It was hard and felt about the size of a grape. I poked around some more, and it hurt a bit. I checked the other breast in the same spot. Nothing there. Hmmmm.

I turned off the TV and turned to Google. You try typing in "lump in the breast" and see what kind of scary stuff pops up! But the thing I kept seeing was that most lumps are benign, nothing to worry about. Yet something kept nagging at me. I wanted it to be benign, but somehow already knew otherwise.

I went to Dr. R and told him about the lump. He did a breast exam and said that the wise thing to do would to get it checked out, but to try not to worry too much in the meantime.

Next step was to schedule a diagnostic mammogram and an ultrasound test. The diagnostic m'gram was not much different than the normal one except that they put a little bb type thing right above where the lump is and take pictures from different angles. The bb shows the radiologist where to look.

I went into the exam room for the ultrasound, and got up on the table. The tech was getting me ready as we waited for the radiologist. Dr. T came in, and said basically that there was nothing showing on the mammogram. I can't remember exactly what I said, but it sounded like he was not too concerned. I said, come over here and I'll point it out to you.

I watched as the ultrasound picked up the mass. A blob of black surrounded by wispy white tissue. It looked huge on the screen, but of course it was magnified. To my eyes it appeared smooth on top, with tendrils extending downward - it reminded me of a jellyfish. Dr. T was quiet as he took different images and recorded them. He supplied no answers to my unspoken questions. I was still under the impression that this could be a cyst, like all my friends told me it probably was. He also did an ultrasound under my arm. I guess I should have realized he was checking out the lymph nodes. But I didn't. He said that the tech would schedule me for a biopsy.

Now that was an experience. Dr. W was a very nice woman, but when she said I would only feel a bit of pressure I believed her. Pressure that felt like a very sharp pointy thing stabbing into my body, I guess is what she meant. Even with extra anesthetic, it hurt. Bad. I had asked her that if it were a cyst, could she just extract the fluid while she was in there. She looked at me with confusion and said, if this were a cyst, you wouldn't be here. I guess Dr. T forgot to inform me of that...she did say that some masses you can tell by looking that it is cancer. Mine was not one of those types, so there was still some hope.

Because it was Friday I would not hear anything until the following Tuesday. I told Dr. W that I would be out of town on a church staff retreat at a camp but to just call my cell phone.

At this point I had not really told anyone what was going on. My mom and a few friends and a colleague at church who dealt with breast cancer a few years before. Somehow I made it through Monday of the retreat, but Tuesday morning I was a bit jittery. It was August 24, 2010. During our morning break time, I grabbed my cell and saw that I had missed a call. It was the doc, and she gave the call back number. I called back and then had to wait for a return call as she was with a patient.

I walked down to the lake at the camp and sat out on the pier. One of my colleagues was already out there and I told her what was going on and asked if she would mind sitting with me as I awaited the call. I waited about fifteen minutes. I watched the calm water, the dragonflies flitting above the lily pads. The sun was still low in the eastern sky. The air was calm, the trees quiet. A beautiful late summer day. At approximately 11:20 a.m. my phone rang. I looked up at B and said to her, this is it. I answered the phone and in ten seconds my life changed.

Perhaps we all know that at some point in our lives we will eventually receive a diagnosis of cancer. After all, one in three women and one in two men will get cancer. But it's always some point in the future, after our bodies have worn down. You don't expect it at midlife. You hear of others getting it. I had just spent the past year and a half walking alongside my mother in her journey with lung cancer. Chemo, radiation, hair loss, more radiation on the brain, and bone loss that resulted in two broken hips. A long, scary journey. But hers, not mine.

Yet when Dr W said the words - I am sorry to have to tell you, you have breast cancer - my life turned a corner. And I was embarking on a journey that all at once seemed very frightening. No longer a bystander, I was now a member of the cancer club.

Beginning again

2010-10-17T16:08:00.004-04:00

So...it's been over two years since I wrote a real post. When I first signed up for this blog, I really had the intention to keep up to date. But then, over the past few years, things got pretty rough. Maybe by not posting about them, I felt like they weren't real. Or maybe I didn't want the world to have access to my business! Of course, the likelihood of anyone actually reading this is probably pretty slim, so why not write about it?

I guess what prompted me to start back today is that I had to have Mulder euthanized on Thursday. When Scully died two years ago, I expected her brothers to outlive her by a decade. But in July, Mulder developed a coordination problem, that led the vet to believe he had some type of neurological disorder. Steroids helped at first, and we decided that once he started going downhill, I would show him mercy. On Wednesday he exhibited difficulty even moving, so the decision was an easy one (relatively speaking.)

Now, this loss of Mulder falls quickly on the heals of my surgery for breast cancer. Yep. You heard me. I was diagnosed with breast cancer on August 27 after having discovered the lump on August 4. More on all that in another post.

This diagnosis of cancer for me falls after a year and a half of walking alongside my mother in her fight against small cell lung cancer, two broken hips, and having to euthanize her dog while she was still in rehab following hip surgery.

Crazy couple of years. Much more than I could have ever anticipated.

My 30's were rough. Going through a divorce, losing my father, and the death of several childhood pets. Also some poor relationship choices. Then I got ordained, which was really good, and I figured that after surviving my tumultuous 30's, my 40's had to be better. Not so much.

So we'll see. Perhaps this blog will be helpful to get some of this stuff out of my head. I just spoke with my friend Dianne last week and she asked if I were writing. I said no. She wondered why not. And so with that, I ask myself. Why not?

Where has the time gone?

2009-05-15T20:27:00.001-04:00

Okay, I am woefully behind on this thing. I will write soon. I promise!

Scully

2008-07-15T20:05:00.003-04:00

Six days ago, Scully was fine.

At least she seemed fine to me. Still following me around the house, still perched in my lap every moment I sat at the computer, still crawling under the covers with me at night. Still eating, still playing, still swatting her brothers.

Then I noticed a change. She was sleeping more. And eating less. She began to slow down. Simple movements required several minutes of recoup time. I called the vet Friday morning. Of course they were booked until the following Wednesday. Was it an emergency? Hell, I didn't know. But Scully was still drinking, still using the litterbox, still purring.

But Saturday morning was no better. I called the emergency vet hospital and took her in. The vet took a blood and urine sample. She wasn't too concerned about Scully not eating, at least at this point, but suggested I give her pepcid tablets to quiet her stomach. Just pop it down her throat. Yeah...right. The vet was most concerned about her heart. She could hear both a murmur and a gallop. Not a good sign, but possibly controllable with heart medication. Though, see above about me giving pills.

We surmised that the heart was the cause of the lack of energy. Having to work too hard to pump the blood, thus Scully was needing more down time.

At the vet's office she roamed around, snooping in corners, walking across the computer keyboard. In retrospect I imagine that adrenaline kept her going there. But once back at home, she collapsed in my computer desk chair. I moved it over and brought in a dining room chair for myself.

No news Sunday. But less energy for Scully. Still drinking, still using the box. But no food, and needing lots of rest. Still in my desk chair.

Monday morning I called first thing. The vet was very quiet as she told me the news. The heart was secondary. It seems my little cat had very few red blood cells. The underlying causes were such that, even if we attempted drastic measures to find the source (ie, blood transfusion, multiple tests) the prognosis was still grim. The decision to make - delay the inevitable and subject my dear companion to multiple pokes and prods, or show mercy.

Show mercy and let her pass on while her existence was still relatively calm and (hopefully) painless. I agonized all morning with my thoughts, as I waited to hear from my regular vet. A new symptom appeared. Scully's eyes began to twitch horizontally, pupils dilated. Her whiskers also began twitching. My vet finally called at 11:00 am, having seen the blood work. Her prognosis mirrored that of the ER vet. And the darting eyes and twitching chin indicated neurological issues. Tearfully I gave my decision to let Scully go. The vet said she'd call back, once she made some time in her schedule.

I sat at my computer, mindlessly surfing. I e-mailed a few friends with the news. The vet finally called and we set the time for 2:30. I picked Scully up and put her in my lap. I wondered how comfortable she would be. But she was fine. For awhile she curled up in a little ball as I clicked through the web. Then she stretched out across my lap, still calm and relaxed. An hour and a half, she slept on my lap. Her warm body comforting me.

I called a colleague from church, who had responded to an e-mail. We talked for a long time, and Joan reassured me that showing mercy to my precious friend was a true gift. It was hard for me to believe, because Scully seemed so normal as she slept. But at 1:45, she awoke suddenly and slid from my lap. She began to dry heave. No food for six days leaves nothing to come up. I hung up the phone with Joan, and tried to comfort Scully. The heaving stopped, and she crawled under my desk. Wide-eyed, twitching again, now that she was awake. And then she let out a mournful squall. My little cat never meowed - she was not the vocal type. This outburst cemented my decision.

My mother was to come at 2:15 to drive us to the vet, but I called and told her to come now. She was there in less than five minutes. Scully was still under the desk, and seemed okay for the moment, but I was frantic. I feared repeating the scene from 9 years prior, watching my Nermal fighting for her last frantic breaths. Never again, I had promised myself and future furry friends. Scully howled again, and crawled from under the desk and straight into the cat carrier. I told mom to call the vet, to tell them we're on the way now. The clock became my enemy. I wanted to end her pain now.

We got in the car. My tears were flowing as I watched my cat struggle. Fortunately the episodes were short and not frequent. I told her to hang on, it would be over soon. I also begged her to just die, to let go. But she wouldn't.

At the vet's office, we were led into a dimly lit room. A thick blanket was laid out on the exam table. Candles were available. Figurines and pictures and a book decorated the scene. About as comforting as one could find in a situation like this. We had about 15 minutes to wait, as Dr. Sue made her way back to the office. I tried to comfort Scully as much as I could. I took the lid off the cat carrier, but she didn't move out of it.

Dr. Sue arrived, went over the procedure, and not wanting Scully to endure any more episodes, I hurried things along. I held Scully's head and talked to her, while the vet and her assistant found a vein. It took two attempts, as the blood disease had weakened Scully's veins. Using her stethoscope, the vet felt listened a moment and then said, "Her heart has stopped." And that was it. My precious Scully was gone.

And life as I knew and loved ended.

And I feel cheated.

Welcome to Middle Age

2008-05-10T19:55:00.005-04:00

Not bad for 40. This photo was taken overlooking the Aegean Sea. The Temple of Poseidon at Sounion is in the background.

While in Mexico on a mission trip at the beginning of April, I got a message to call the senior pastor as soon as possible. This worried me. Two years prior, I had received a call like this, and one of the members at my little church had passed away.

Expecting the worst, I made the call. Lewis was surprised by my quick reply, and told me that one of the women who had signed up for the Footsteps of Faith trip to Greece and Turkey had to back out at the last minute and would I like to go. Of course I would, I said, but money is an issue and is why I wasn't going anyway. He countered, what if the church pays your way? $6000 - How could I say no to that? It was like winning the showcase on the Price Is Right. Two weeks in Greece/Turkey, and getting to celebrate my 40th birthday while there. Pretty nice!

Now, the ironic twist is this. The day before I had been speaking with Reggie, who is one of our residents at the church. Each year the senior residents lead the high school students on a Footsteps trip to Rome, Greece and Turkey. He wondered if I would ever get to go with them. I said, I was low on the totem pole and there were many associate pastors ahead of me. Later that day, with the conversation still on my mind, I wondered what if someone on the Adult Footsteps trip had to back out - could I possibly go. Then I dreamt about it. In my dream, a woman got ill and could not go. I was asked to go in her place.

Okay, spooky, I know. I shared this info with my Mexico mission trip partners after I got the message from Lewis, and they began to tease me, saying, don't let Rachel pray for you. Obviously I did not pray for anyone to get sick. Just an odd turn of events. Can I help it if my dream actually came true?

Anyway, the trip was incredible. More on that later. And I actually turned 40 without too much stress associated with that momentous occasion. I am not sure how I can top this trip at 50, but at least I have a few years to plan. Maybe if I start praying now...just kidding!

Another car post

2008-05-10T19:46:00.004-04:00

Before everyone begins to think that my car is my life, let me just say this will probably be the final post about it. I just got back from a trip to Greece and Turkey - will post about that separately - but right before I left on the trip, my new car was desecrated.

Okay, maybe that is a strong word. It was marred, dented while parked. And the offender didn't even bother to leave a note. I am guessing that he/she probably lacked insurance, considering the neighborhood where the incident occurred.

I only write about this because nearly the exact same thing happened to my previous car. I had purchased the Taurus used, but only three years old. A few weeks after buying the car, I had gone to a yard sale, parked on the street, and some woman backed out of her driveway and gouged it. It was rather minor, the car was inexpensive, so I never got it fixed.

So here with my new Subaru, only had it a month, went to a Board meeting at our neighborhood ministry, parked on the street, and someone hit it. At least I think that's where it occurred. I can't be sure because I didn't notice it until the next day.

Because this is a nicer car, cost three times as much as the Taurus, I am definitly going to get it fixed. But I just wonder at the coincidence between the two events. Rather odd.

Oh, crap....

2008-03-29T14:55:00.002-04:00

Okay, so I love my new car. I really do. But then yesterday I went to the dealership to pick up the owner's manual. The previous owner had not turned it in with the car, so they ordered a new one for me. I started plodding through it. Yes, plodding. Really, how exciting is it to read an owner's manual? But there are several buttons and knobs about which I know nothing. All was well until I got to the section on fuel.

Apparently I purchased a vehicle that requires premium unleaded gasoline. Believe you me, I read that section repeatedly and quite slowly until every word sunk in. So, the cute little turbo engine (the one that makes the car go 140 mph) requires special, high-end fuel. Putting in lesser fuel will cause knocking and possibly mess something up. I know that's not the technical jargon for what will happen, but basically, if I use the cheap gas, I'm going to ruin something.

Needless to say I am livid with the dealership. You would think that they would disclose that type of information. I know, I know. They're just trying to sell cars. And who wants to buy a car that requires premium gasoline? When the price of gas is already through the roof and keeps climbing higher? Leave it to the stupid female consumer who knows nothing about engines.

Sure I did my research, but I don't ever remember reading anything about this particular model needing premium fuel. Well, I guess I'm stuck with it. Crap.

Becoming a Subaru Snob

2008-03-17T19:38:00.003-04:00

Okay, so I've been looking at the Subaru Forester for the past three or so years. No big hurry to buy a car, mind you. My trusty little Taurus has served me well. For certain, I've kept my mechanic in business. But nothing unexpected from an eleven year old car. A car that I own outright. With low insurance premiums.

But lately she'd been acting up. Pesky electrical problems. And I began to wonder if perhaps it was time to really consider a new (used) car. But who wants a car payment and higher insurance premiums. Though, I had been putting some money aside every so often, so at least I would have a down payment.

So I did a local search on the Internet for used Foresters. And there it was. A 2006 XT in a color I could actually appreciate. Just enough bells and whistles to feel comfortable. The perfect vehicle for me. But old habits like to rear their ugly heads, and I just couldn't justify the expense, what with the economy about to go nuts and all. Maybe I could wait a little longer before giving in.

Then I had to make a trip down south of Indy to visit a church member in the hospital. The battery light had been winking at me earlier in the day, but after a call to the mechanic (the one I have kept in business), he assured me things were probably okay. Yeah. Probably. Tell that to the alternator that went out. Tell that to the battery that went dead. Oh, and just for kicks, tell the radiator with its lovely slow leak.

So on the side of the road. Some random road. I had no idea where the hell I was. I had a come to Jesus moment. As if God were saying to me, how blatant a sign do you need? Get the darned car. Do you need a smack upside the head?

And jumping ahead 24 hours, after a long afternoon at the dealership, I am now the proud (but still second-guessing...did I pay too much?) owner of a 2006 Subaru Forester XT. Blue in color, leather heated seats, big ol' honking sun roof, turbo engine (not sure I needed that, but the speedometer goes up to 150....in theory, anyway), and all wheel drive.

I take it back to the dealer tomorrow for a clean-up, a couple extra keys, an owner's manual...and they really need to explain this alarm system so the car quits honking at me at inopportune times.

2008-01-29T22:25:00.000-05:00

Beloved friend, Anne

Much too soon.

You will be missed.

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

One Day at a Time

2008-01-16T22:48:00.000-05:00

I told her that there were very few people in this world for whom I would get out of bed at 3:30 a.m. She could hear the smile in my voice over the phone line. Of course I would come pray with her before her surgery. She's one of my dear friends. Has been for years. But when she introduced me to her surgeon as her pastor, I had to take a step back. Of all the pastors on staff at the Big Church, she wanted me to come.

I can still remember getting to know Anne on our first mission trip together. I was barely more than a visitor to the church when I signed up for the trip to Washington. There's another long story there, about how I left the Baptists, completely disgusted by the politics of religion. And how after a two year hiatus, I began church hopping, looking for a place of comfort. How the thoughts of pursuing ministry had been completely crushed.

But Anne welcomed me, a stranger among the mission trip groupies. We became fast friends. She persuaded me to join the church, so I could serve on the mission committee. She encouraged me to rethink my call to ministry. We shared our life stories and supported each other through the good, the bad, and all the times in between. She witnessed my ordination at the Big Church, my installation at the Little Church, and cheered me on from the sidelines.

About a month ago, we shared dinner together with two of our mission trip buddies at our favorite Italian restaurant. These semi-annual meals were a time for the four of us to catch up, laugh and reminisce. The only hint that anything was wrong was how painful it was for Anne to stand up after our dinner. She brushed it off, attributing to an aging body and a muscle strain.

A few days later, more symptoms developed, necessitating a trip to the hospital. The main cancer was in her bladder. It had spread to other organs, her thyroid, and the bones in her spine. The surgery last Friday was to remove what was left of a vertebra, protect the spinal cord, and insert some pins.

Her life, once measured in decades, is now taken a day at a time. Months, perhaps a year, maybe more. How quickly does one's perspective change in the face of blatant mortality. I do not really want to think of a future without her, so for now I won't. She wants me to cook her my famous award-winning white chili for when her family comes to town. It's the least I can do. For now.

Morning Avoidance

2007-10-07T19:53:00.000-04:00

I am not a morning person. Never have been, never will be. I take after my grandfather. I remember vacations to Wisconsin as a child, staying up late watching Johnny Carson with grandpa. My grandmother had long since turned her back on the waking world. She'd be up before dawn. He'd stay awake until 3:00 or 4:00, reading in bed until finally drifting away. He'd be up around noon the next day. No wonder they had separate bedrooms.

I hated school, having to get up hours before dawn, just to be ready on the bus stop by 7:00. College and seminary were fine when I could choose classes after 10:00 a.m. The occasional 8:00 was a killer. Summer vacations were delightful. Staying up late watching movies, devouring books, composing my stories and my songs, wandering outside to gaze at the starts. Something about the night was magical to me. Quiet, distant. I could be alone with my thoughts.

Of course, waking up before dawn, I have found that it is still dark. Imagine that. But somehow it's not the same. Watching the sunrise at the end of your day has a different feel than squinting at it through hazy morning eyes. Mystical, powerful, sublime.

So my vocation as a pastor, having the luxury of designing my own schedule - ah, freedom. With the exception of the occasion breakfast meeting and exiting my sheets on Sunday mornings at 4:30 to finish my sermon, I can blissfully sleep in most days. And for this self-proclaimed night owl, it is a blessing indeed.

Blah, blah, blah

2007-09-29T19:45:00.000-04:00

That says it all, I think. Blah.

I've been rather in a bit of a rut lately. Can't seem to find motivation to do much of anything creative. I just seem to be going through the motions. Getting things done, following the typical routine. But no extra energy to think beyond the blahs.

I'm hiding it well. (At least until I post this.) No one seems to notice that I am not quite "all there." I can put up a good facade. Smile and nod at all the correct times. Do what needs to be done, and in a timely fashion. Yet something is indeed lacking.

Passion. The passion is missing. Oh, it's there somewhere. I don't think I could ever really lose it. But it seems to be buried deep under a pile of blahs.

I've been feeling this way for a while now. Just couldn't quite put on finger on what was amiss. Since I have finally confronted it, perhaps I am on the path to renewal. I sure hope so. This blah-ness has got to go.

Study Leave

2007-08-18T17:17:00.001-04:00

My study leave was a last minute excursion. My brother wanted to take a trip to Wisconsin with his younger son. Finances are tight for him, so he needed me to help with the travel expenses and get the electricity turned on at Mom's lakeside cabins. I didn't want to take vacation time to cover this, so I thought to myself, "Self, you haven't taken any study leave in two years." Armed with a double stack of books and an old laptop computer (that was never plugged in), we headed for the north woods.

I had not been up in 14 years. The last time to visit was with my ex on our honeymoon. Facing those skeletons was a bit harder than expected. His face haunted my dreams, and I awoke often, startled, but to the happy realization that he wasn't really there. It was because of these frequent awakenings that I was able to catch this incredible sunrise. Within a few days, the demons were exorcised.

I still can't believe the amount of reading and planning I was able to accomplish. My nephew kept asking, "how much more do you have to read?" He couldn't comprehend that I was actually working...that I got paid to go out into the woods and read all day. It's still rather difficult for me to believe, also. One of the perks of ministry.

I saw a fellow pastor yesterday. She's about to go on study leave. We both felt guilty for "not working at the church." But then we reminded each other of all the holidays we have to work while others get to play. Four day weekends? What are those? Christmas, Easter -- work days for us. So I guess a couple weeks of study leave/continuing ed should be enjoyed without guilt.

Okay, now I know I'm wasting time....

2007-07-27T21:38:00.000-04:00

But I couldn't help it. Just had to see how it'd come out. I'm rather surprised.

You scored as Buffy Summers, You are

a very strong individual. You do, however,

have some trouble admitting how you truly feel.

You've experienced a lot during your life, but you

more than manage. Always willing to help,

you're a great friend.

Buffy Summers

79%

Rupert Giles

54%

Spike

50%

Willow Rosenberg

50%

Tara Maclay

46%

Dawn Summers

42%

Anya

33%

Xander Harris

29%

Which Buffy The Vampire Slayer Character Are You Most Like!?
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Alter Ego -- really no surprise

2007-07-27T21:12:00.000-04:00

You scored as Hermione Granger, You're one

intelligent witch, but you have a hard time

believing it and require constant reassurance.

You are a very supportive friend who would

do anything and everything to help her friends out.

Hermione Granger

90%

Severus Snape

75%

Remus Lupin

75%

Albus Dumbledore

75%

Ron Weasley

60%

Sirius Black

55%

Harry Potter

55%

Ginny Weasley

55%

Draco Malfoy

50%

Lord Voldemort

Your Harry Potter Alter Ego Is...?
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Lament for the End

2007-07-24T21:19:00.000-04:00

I finished Book Seven on Monday afternoon at about 3:00 p.m. I had taken the day off to recoup from my mission trip. (Nothing to do with wanting to read the book or anything like that ) A bittersweet ending. I loved the book, but I loathe that the series is now over.

I have always been one to relish the anticipation of a thing more than the thing itself. I am not sure why that is. Even as a child, at birthdays and Christmas, I never ripped into my presents. I preferred to take it slow, savoring each moment of wonder as I carefully removed the paper from the treasure inside. And once all the packages were exposed, I experienced a let down that is difficult to describe. Something about the "not knowing." Something about the mystery of "what could be..." The reality never measured up.

And so with Harry, the saga is complete. The questions have been answered, the problems solved, the loose ends neatly tied up. The anticipation is relieved, yet I still long for something more.

I suppose it's a matter of preferring the journey over the destination. And so I wonder, what's next...

Quintanna Roo Mexico

2007-07-24T20:58:00.000-04:00

Just returned from a week long mission trip to the Mayan Riviera in the Yucatan Peninsula of Mexico. Got to work with about 150 kids in their vacation Bible school in the village of Nichta Ha. It never ceases to amaze me how the people there can be so content with so little. They always thank us for what we bring to them - mostly things. But do they have any idea what they give to us? A heartfelt faith. An appreciation for the basics in life. A love of God that is pure and honest.

Year Two Milestone

2007-06-26T21:49:00.000-04:00

Today is the second anniversary of my ordination. I haven't really had a chance to give it much thought, which is surprising for me, since I tend to be sentimental about things like this. But my mind has been consumed with other things

I am currently in the second week of my vacation, if you can call it that. I didn't go anywhere, which is a very good thing. Tyler, my nine year old male cat, had ear surgery right before the vacation began. He had some complications, and had to be hospitalized for a few days. His two litter mates (Mulder and Scully) have decided to shun him, though he can't seem to understand why.

While on vacation, I had planned to splurge on new office furniture, since I spend so much time working at home. It was a tad pricey, but at least it was on sale. Then the vet bills kept piling up (I also took my others in for their yearly exams/vaccinations). I lost track after the bills broke a grand.

Then my upstairs AC window unit decided to die, as did my DVD player. Now I simply cannot have a vacation without watching all seven seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. You can imagine the crisis. Well, then the kitchen faucet started leaking again (previously fixed last December). My dreams for new office furniture began to slip away.

But then I found an AC unit and a DVD player for about $100 each. The faucet was covered by warranty. Tragedy averted. So today I logged onto the Staples website and ordered my new office.

Happy Anniversary to me.

Made My Day

2007-06-15T22:45:00.000-04:00

Okay....I swiped this from another blog, but I couldn't resist. You've got to see it to believe it. You'll be surprised.

Mountain Reflections

2007-06-02T21:01:00.000-04:00

I recently traveled to Colorado for a conference entitled The Externally Focused Church. Having never been to Colorado, I journeyed out early with a friend and stayed in a cabin in the mountains.

Now when it comes to nature, I am a Grand Canyon snob. Nothing can compare with the immense beauty of that big ol' hole in the ground. But I must confess, the Rockies came darned close.

Living in the big flat city in the Midwest, I often forget the power that God's creation has over me. But the song of the rushing creek, the wind caressing the new leaves of the Aspens, the aroma of pine and clean air - they each reminded me of God's gracious love toward us. The earth could have been stilted and functional - providing the basic sustenance needed for our survival. Yet God chose to do so much more. Offering vistas beyond our dreams, splendor so stirring as to evoke pain. A longing for something more, something just out of reach. The merest glimpse of eternity. A foretaste of that which is to come.

Encounters awakening within me a yearning, a hunger for the divine. Emotions expressed best in non-words. Yet still I try to capture that which already is beginning to slip through my grasp. Tendrils of memory remain...

The conference was good, too.

Post Birthday Blues

2007-05-10T18:14:00.000-04:00

It's been a few weeks since the traumatic day arrived, but for some reason I can't seem to shake the feeling. Of course many of my friends laugh it off, saying "You're still a baby...call us when you hit the half century mark." Okay, so maybe they are right, but for me, 39 is a big year. Not quite 40, but it might as well be. "How old are you," someone asks. And now I have to reply with the dreaded figure. "Oh sure," they grin. "39 and holding, right?" Wink, wink.

I asked another friend, who is a few years my junior, if we had hit middle age. I always thought it was much later in life, but apparently I have arrived. There is no crisis. Just a bit of unease, wondering how I ended up here. This life looks nothing like what I had anticipated some 20 years ago.

To make myself even more miserable, I flipped through my college photo albums and found pictures of my 19th birthday. Cute boyfriend (who turned out to be gay), best friend, long stem red roses, and a cake fight in the dorm room. Ah, what mixed emotions those memories evoke. I looked into my 20-year-ago face peering out at me from those photos, cake frosting dripping from my chin, and wanted to holler at her, "Get ready...you've got some ugly years ahead of you!!" I suppose it really wouldn't have made a difference. At that age, I had the world on a leash. Nothing could get in the way of my dreams.

No cake fight this year, though my mother bought me my favorite - white cake with whipped cream icing - from the neighborhood grocery. No party either. A few birthday cards still line my library shelves. I guess it's time to put them away.

It's just a number. I keep telling myself that. But somehow at some point the world broke free of my leash.

Easter ramblings

2007-04-08T19:33:00.000-04:00

Somehow I survived another Holy Week. The Tenebrae Service on Thursday was highly moving, though only a small crowd turned out. But that made it possible to gather around the table for Communion...possibly one of the most meaningful communions services I've led in my short tenure as a pastor. What a privilege it is to preside at table.

Due to frigid temps, we held the sunrise service indoors this morning. Again, only a faithful handful showed up...probably because they figured Elder Larry would make us sit outside. But he must be getting soft in his advancing years, because indoors it was. He traditionally leads our sunrise service, and had a great message yet again. Hands outstretched on the cross leads to outstretched hands in loving embrace. Great hook.

While the women gathered for worship, the men gathered in the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Another great meal served up by the men. But I wish I could convince them that the service at sunrise is important, too. Traditions...can't mess with 'em.

The traditional service at 10:00 was full, or at least more bodies than usual. Lot's of family members. Sometimes I wonder if anyone is really hearing the message behind my feeble words. I think so. I hope so. Fortunately, Christ can work despite my shortcomings.

He is risen indeed.

Initial Musings of a Pastor Girl

2007-04-01T18:20:00.000-04:00

So here I sit, having just created the skeleton of a blog and now I am expected to post something. The task is somewhat daunting, because I haven't the foggiest of what to say. I am sure that will change soon enough.

It is the afternoon of Palm Sunday, and I am worn out, having awakened at 4:00 a.m. thinking, "I have got to do something about that sermon." A few hours and many revisions later, worship went well. No one lost an eye with all the palm waving, and the sermon was well-received in my small town church in Central Indiana. The Week that we call Holy is upon us. Lots to do. But for now, maybe I'll go back and check on the Nascar race and catch a few more Z's.