The Cat Ate My Sermon

So, I've actually been thinking about this for a long time. I need to start writing again. Writing helps. Especially when I can just say what's on my mind and not worry so much who is going to read it. If you've found your way here, good for you! Not sure how you found me, but whatever.  My last post is from 5 years ago. I wondered how I could catch up with everything that's been happening, but, let's face it. Does anyone but me really care? So as Tim always likes to say, let's call it a fresh start and begin again. Here we go....

** Nota bene - The following is a transcription of a longhand post written on May 30, 2013 When I think about my so-called bucket list or contemplate the things I would like to do in this lifetime, traveling to the Holy Land really was never on there. That may come as a surprise coming from a pastor.  Certainly every pastor longs to trod those paths that Jesus walked.  But for me, not really.  It's not that I was not interested.  It's just that when it comes to travel, I've always enjoyed staying closer to home and avoiding the crowds.  Tourist areas don't interest me.  And the Holy Land always seemed to be the Disney World for religious people.  No thank you. I could not have been more wrong. Now, the tour is over, but I have not yet left the country.  I am resting on my little hotel balcony, bags packed, with upcoming work responsibilities threatening to penetrate my reverie.  The night-life sounds of Tel Aviv tickle my ears while t...

I've been away from my blog for a long time as Caring Bridge became my writing instrument of choice during my cancer journey.  I now am happily cancer free and much less angry than my last blog post would indicate.  The fury over losing my hair indeed was just a symptom of a much deeper anger within me.  Yet, breast cancer taught me many things.  On this side of it I can honestly say that it is perhaps one of the best things that ever happened to me.  Don't get me wrong.  I would never ask to go through it again, nor would I wish it on anyone.  But the experience of it and the outpouring of support that came from family and friends was amazing and eye-opening.  I hope to start sharing some of those experiences on here as I get back into the swing of blogging. ...and actually, I kinda like my super-short pixie 'do!  

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 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 hom...

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 mammo...

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...

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

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 ...

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 speakin...

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, an...

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 ...

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...

Beloved friend, Anne Much too soon. You will be missed. Tuesday, January 29, 2008

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 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 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.

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 w...

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!? created with QuizFarm.com

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 5% Your Harry Potter Alter Ego Is...? created with QuizFarm.com