Lost and Found

The video above is Francesca Battistelli singing "Free to Be Be", which is a song I love, and which resonates with my recent experience.

If you remember my post from a few weeks ago seeking advice about a pastoral counselor or spiritual director, I decided on the pastoral counselor option, thanks in large part to the RevGals and an especially helpful e-mail from Mutha+. My first appointment was today, and I have a good feeling about this new relationship. He's an older gentlemen, a Disciples of Christ (Christian Church) minister, so he is aware of the issues related to clergy life. I plan on seeing him every two weeks. In our hour together, I basically gave a recap of my life over the past five years, including brief descriptions of my SJ experience, my healing, my experiences at BT, and motherhood.

One thing my counselor (I guess I need to come up with a pseudonym for him) pointed out for consideration is that the past seven months have been about Patti re-discovering Patti....on so many levels. And I think he's right. I think that through the SJ experience, motherhood, and postpartum depression, I sort of lost my identity in a way. And now I am beginning to rediscover who Patti is and who God created Patti to be...and celebrate that person, instead of trying to stifle her or change her. Certainly, I am not perfect, and I have blind spots and growing edges, just like we all do. But, I am also a unique child of God and a person of worth, and I have my own unique light to shine and my own gifts to give this world.

In other words, I'm beginning to be "free to be me", and it feels really good.

One More Year...

There's a story from Greek mythology about the warrior Odysseus (of "The Odyssey" fame) and his encounter with the Sirens of the sea. As his ship neared the place where the Sirens (women with beautiful voices who lured unsuspecting sailors to shipwreck on their island) where rumored to be, Odysseus ordered his men to stuff their ears with wax (so they wouldn't hear the Sirens' song) and tie Odysseus to the mast, so he could hear the Sirens, but couldn't escape. When he heard the song, he implored his men to let him go free, but they did not, ensuring that the ship continued on to its destination.

One year from today, in fact one year from this moment, I will have just finished my first Sunday in my new appointment. That's my vision, and I believe that's God's vision, as well. I've realized over the past few days that I have spent the past 15 years trying to talk myself out of a call to parish ministry. I have certainly begun the journey to return to being a pastor, but the next year (especially the next five months, when I need to take certain steps to go off leave, to meet with my District Superintendent, to get on the appointment list, to update my pastor profile, etc) will be crucial. I will get cold feet. I will hear the Sirens singing to me of extension ministries, of another year of family leave, of all sorts of other options besides my intended destination. I will hear them singing warnings about all the pain, heartbreak, and frustration of local church ministry. I will hear them singing about how I can't do it, how I'm not good enough...and if I allow myself to get distracted by those songs, I will shipwreck and never arrive at my destination.

So...I'm asking for you to journey with me...to stuff your ears with wax, to tie me to the mast, and to keep rowing past the Sirens. And when I express my doubts and fears, remind me of our final destination and don't untie me until we arrive.

One more year...I am excited and nervous and terrified all at once.

Torn

Annual Conference was, overall, a great experience. I got to re-connect with a number of friends I hadn't seen in a year or more. On Thursday night I had dinner with a former pastor (who is now a friend and mentor), on Friday I had lunch with my friend Hannah, who helped hold me together during the SJ debacle, and on Friday night I had dinner with Lee, my college roommate (who is not clergy, but who lives in the city where AC was held). The preaching was incredible: Rev. Dr. Sam Wells (the dean of the chapel at Duke) was the preacher, and BOY OH BOY can the man preach. Worship was filling, and I also enjoyed voting for General and Jurisdictional Conference delegates for the very first time.

There were parts of AC that were challenging. The sermons, worship, and conversations both opened and healed past wounds. It was wonderful and affirming to be among fellow clergy and to be reminded of who I am and Whose I am, but it also served as a reminder that while I'm where God wants me to be, I'm still "in limbo", so to speak.

The sessions and voting continued into Sunday, but both Mac and I both chose to leave on Saturday afternoon (separately, of course) to be at BT on Sunday morning. I think he didn't want to take another Sunday off, and I was on-call on Saturday night and scheduled to be the liturgist on Sunday morning. And once again, Mac's sermon made me cry. While I was the liturgist. In front of everyone. Thankfully, I don't think many people noticed, and my part of the service was already over (I do the first half, and he does the second half), but it was just a little embarrassing. So, after the service was over, I glared at him, told him he was a sadist for making me cry when I was the liturgist, and stomped off. I then went into a dark classroom to cry for half an hour. Later I sent him an e-mail apologizing for the sadist remark, although from his response he was more flattered than offended.

There is a reason that I cried during that sermon, and it's because God spoke to me in a powerful way about a particular issue in my life. I'm not going to dwell on that right now. What I do want to dwell on is how I've seen God work through Mac, week in and week out, to really BRING IT in terms of preaching. In the nine months since I've really been paying attention to his sermons, I have only heard one sermon that even came close to being  a "dud". Sunday was the ninth time that Mac's sermon made me cry, and the third time that I've pretty much sobbed during/after a sermon.

So, I can't help but be amazed at the man/instrument of God who can attend three days of meetings from 7am to 10:30pm, drive five hours, arrive home at 9pm, probably wake up around 6am, and then stand in the pulpit and deliver a sermon that powerful and convicting. It elicits two responses in me: a desire to learn as much as possible from Mac so that I can be that effective, and a desire to slink away because I don't see how I'll ever be that effective. I guess I find Mac both inspiring and intimidating (side note: that's kind of amusing to me, because as I'm getting to know him better, I'm becoming more and more aware of his blind spots, so I certainly know that he is not perfect. But what he does well, he does VERY VERY well). I want to be just like him (not really, but you know what I mean), but part of me feels that's impossible.

These days, I'm torn between the burning desire to be back under appointment, to be a pastor, to be in full-time ministry...and the utter fear that I will not measure up, that I will not be effective, that I will never meet my potential, and that my sermons will always be mediocre.

I guess, in a way, I'm torn between trusting God and relying on God's grace to transform me into the person and pastor I am meant to be...and shrinking away because of the fear that I don't have what it takes to be a preacher and leader who God works through to change lives. 

I know what I need to do...and which choice is the better one. It's just hard.

Reader Participation Sunday: Pastoral Counselor or Spiritual Director?

It has become clear to me that I need someone to talk to on a regular basis, someone who can help me discern and sort and wrestle with what I hear God telling me, and who can help me work through the challenges and struggles that life brings me. While I have been meeting with Mac every 2-4 weeks, and will continue to do so, I would rather use that time to pick his brain about other things AND possibly be available for him, if the opportunity arises. There are also issues that I would rather not discuss with Mac; not because I don't trust him, but for other reasons.

I came to this realization (that I need help, that I need an additional resource) on Tuesday night. It had been a busy week and weekend. I worked 13.5 hours on Saturday, was then on-call Saturday night (and received two pages), attended church (where the special music and accompanying video made me cry), went to two different potlucks, and was then on-call again on Monday night (when I got yet another page). By Tuesday, I was exhausted. By Tuesday afternoon, I was sobbing on and off, and realized that I could not attend the very important campaign meeting that evening, simply because of my mental state.

I called Mac on Wednesday, and he made time for me on Friday, and we discussed self-care strategies and I shared that I clearly need help with self-management (such as knowing when I need to rest before things reach a critical point, building rest and care into my schedule, etc). He shared with me some of the strategies he uses, and invited me to share some of those (a small group, a clergy discussion group).

So, I'm going to use the next few months to build a support network for myself, with the hope that I'll be appointed in this area and will have these resources in place. My first step is what I mentioned before: someone who I can talk to, who can help me sort through my thoughts, and who will aid me in discovering and following God's will in my life.

The two clearest options for the sort of resource I'm describing are either a spiritual director or a pastoral counselor. I live in an area where either are readily available, and even have the number for several pastoral counselors. I cannot utilize both at this time, for financial reasons. My insurance would pay for the pastoral counselor, but I would probably need to pay out of pocket for the spiritual director, and I don't know how much that would cost.

I'm leaning towards the pastoral counseling option, but I wanted to hear your thoughts. Which have you found most helpful?

Some Light Reading for a Friday Night...

I've been busy over the past few months, which is why I haven't posted much. Here's an update, with bullet points to make it easier for you:

• I wound up being on the Steering Committee of our capital campaign. I'm doing the spiritual emphasis, so we're organizing a prayer vigil and prayer prompts/guides for each week for the rest of the campaign. 
• I'm also the chair of our still-forming Endowment Committee. Our first meeting is at the end of this month. I figure this financial experience will help me when I go back to being a pastor.
• I'm speaking at the United Methodist Women's meeting this Monday. It should be fun, and I'm going to speak about women's roles in the church, specifically my call to ministry and the challenges and blessings that I've faced as female clergy. 
• I've met with Mac about three more times since my post back in early April. One time he initiated it (as a response to a question I asked), but the other two times I initiated the meeting, as a result of stuff that I am processing/experiencing (more on that in another post). He has been absolutely magnificent, has become a valuable mentor, and is also becoming a friend. I'm beginning to feel more comfortable with him, in the sense of feeling like his equal instead of "meek provisional elder who sucked at her first appointment vs pastor of large church with twenty years pastoral experience," which is how I felt at first. I still feel that I'm receiving more from this relationship than he is, but that's OK. I pray for him, I gave him my extra Wesley doll (when Asbury sent me two instead of one), and I frequently let him know how much I appreciate him. Oh, and I also stoke his ego by telling him that his sermon and/or the "special music" made me cry. But don't worry, I also ask him questions and have even expressed my disagreement from time to time.
• I am going to Annual Conference this year. Did I tell you that? They're offering childcare for kids 3 and older, we're staying with my mother-in-law (who will watch Walter for me) so we don't have to pay for a hotel (because I get no per diem, since I'm on leave), and I'm looking forward to seeing some clergy friends.

Happy Friday!

TRAIN PARACHUTE with LYRICS

This song and video, which Mac showed in church this morning, had me nearly sobbing. Watch it and you'll understand why...

Head, Heart, and the Balance Between the Two

General update: When I talked to Mac last Saturday, he pointed out that both Matt and I are fairly new to the church (within the past five years, which is new for a 230-year-old church) and he wasn't sure that dynamic was a good idea for a six-million-dollar campaign. I agreed, so I told Matt to find someone else, and he picked someone who I think is PERFECT and a much better choice than me. So, that's that. I will, however, be helping with the campaign.

During my CPE residency, one of my biggest self-realizations was how my self-confidence (or lack thereof) affects my concept of my own authority and the way I relate to others, especially those I view as being in positions of authority. In other words, I have trouble seeing myself as an authority figure and tend to have trouble "pushing back", and sometimes even just being myself, with people who I view as authority figures. In the hospital setting, I've gotten over this to a good extent, and can now "push back" with nurses and even doctors when necessary. However, I still run into this issue in other areas of my life...as I realized last week.

Last Wednesday, I met with Mac in his office. I had asked to meet so he could give me feedback on the sermon I preached on Ash Wednesday. I did get that (he basically thought it was fine, called it "tight", and said he had received a lot of positive comments on it), but we spent at least an hour talking about other things. He asked for my impressions of the church so far, and then asked me if I had any questions...particularly about the church or even about him. Golden opportunity, because I did/still do have questions. And...I sort of froze. Instead of asking the insightful questions that have been in my mind (like how he first received a call to ministry, how he prepares these amazingly creative sermons and worship services, or even mundane stuff like if he has any pets or what he does on his day off, and mentioning some of my pet peeves about the church), I...honestly don't even remember what I asked him, except for one: what his wife does for a living. Way to go, Patti. Part of what happened stemmed from my having prepared myself to receive sermon feedback, and not much else. Another part of it stemmed from the fact that (as I realized later) even though Mac generously invited me into a collegial moment and was treating me as an equal, I couldn't see myself in that light, and was therefore giving myself an internal inferiority complex.

My heart was touched and gratified that Mac was willing to be so collegial with me, but my head was telling me something else entirely...that I wasn't worthy, that any questions I asked would be stupid, and who knows what else my subconscious was thinking. Sort of silly, but it stems from my self-confidence being somewhere in the basement due to my SJ experience. I have trouble stating my gifts for parish ministry because I still have trouble believing that I am, indeed, called to be a pastor.

Keep in mind that this is all "me", and has nothing to do with Mac. He's been great, and I am very thankful that God sent me to this church and put him in my life. Of course he's not perfect (I threatened to beat him with a wet noodle last week when he took several days to respond to a voice mail, and his sermons run too long, and...), but overall, he's pretty awesome. I just need to be more confident about who God created me to be, confident about the gifts God has given me, and be myself in my conversations with Mac.

I hope all of that made sense.

I'm Exhausted

Physically...because even at one year old, Walter still does not sleep through the night on a consistent basis. Yes, we've tried sleep training. No, it didn't really work. Also, I'm on call every Monday night and every Saturday night, and the pager has been really really busy. I don't remember the last time I went a night without a call. Good for the bank account, but bad for my body and sleep needs.

Emotionally...because all this healing/growth crap is really wearing me out. I feel like I'm constantly having to do CPE with myself. There's also the fact that I have two young children, and Nora is a very engaging, playful child...who WEARS ME OUT. Oh yeah, and then there's the emotional roller coaster I've been on over the past year with my mother's breast cancer (good news: she should be in remission, but we'll know for sure on March 1).

Spiritually...because right now, I feel like God is a coach who keeps asking me to "step it up" to the next level. Just when I get to a point of surrender and think that I can rest for a while, some new nudging/revelation happens.

Sadism, Masochism, and Homiletical Brilliance, Oh My

I was tempted, so tempted, to stomp up to Mac this morning after worship, bop him over the head with my bulletin, and call him a sadist while also proclaiming him to be possibly the most effective preacher that I have ever experienced.*

Ahem. However, I did not do that. There were two reasons, really. First, I really didn't know how he'd respond to that sort of comment and the bopping over the head action. Second, I just don't have the personality to engineer that sort of confrontation. Instead, I settled for a LOOK as passed him in the hallway, told him that Wesley would have really liked that sermon, that I would like it as soon as I processed it, and that I was in tears for most of the sermon. Then I said, "hope you have a good week" and sincerely meant it.

So, today God graduated to a Mack truck from a 2x4. I began crying about two sentences into the sermon, had a few moments of respite, but cried through most of it. Seriously, it was like Mac was preaching JUST TO ME, even though I know that's not true, because there are 350 other people who hear his sermons every week.

There are things I realized during that sermon (which was on Matthew 5:21-37) that are largely non-bloggable, so I'm not going to be able to share my specific revelations. Suffice it to say, it carried me even further on the journey to complete healing.

*I mean that from a subjective point of view, in the sense that no other preacher's sermons have elicited the sort of visceral reactions in me that Mac's sermons do. However, if I were to evaluate them from a completely objective point of view, I wouldn't think they were that great. Make sense?

Open Heart Surgery...Without the Anesthesia

When I was in seminary, a lot of people referred to the process of major spiritual change as "open heart surgery without the anesthesia." As in, God replacing our old heart with a new one, without the benefit of pain medication. It's a hard and painful process, but very worth it in the end.

That's what I'm going through right now...for the first time since seminary. It's part of my healing process, and it's gratifying to know that by embracing the pain and following God's will for my life, I am speeding the healing process along.

I met with Mac this morning, and it went really well. I told him the gist of my parish experience and the struggles and healing I've experienced since then. He listened, offered some helpful feedback, and prayed with me. No miraculous sense of peace, but a strong sense that I am where I need to be and am doing what I need to be doing. And also a strong sense of gratitude that God led me to this church, and to have Mac as my pastor, whether that be for the next four months or 16 months. He doesn't know if he's moving or not, but should know in the next few weeks. For my sake, I hope he doesn't (a new pastor might be a wild card where I am concerned: he/she could be very supportive or be threatened by my presence), but of course most of all I want God's will to be done, and that would be what is best for the congregation, for Mac and his family, and for the annual conference. We shall see what happens.

I don't think that the God 2 x 4's that I've been receiving via Mac's sermons will end anytime soon. That's OK. I'm willing to endure 4-16 months of 2x4's if they will lead me to full healing.

On Being Transparent

In terms of the healing thing...I'm almost there. I was doing great until I made the mistake of checking Facebook of Wednesday night, after I posted the last blog entry. The Board of Ordained Ministry met this week and a number of my clergy colleagues (who I was commissioned with in 2007) were joyfully announcing the good news of their impending ordination. A bunch were ordained last year, but this represents the bulk of the rest of my class of provisional elders (some were deferred last year, and approved this year). I am so, so happy for them. I really am. I'm proud of all the work they've done to get this far, the fruit that God is bearing in their lives, and will proudly stand up for them as they're being ordained in June (whether I'm at Annual Conference or watching on the computer via live streaming video), just as I did for the first batch last year.

But, it hurts just a little bit to be left behind and to not be where I thought I would be at this point. Sure, I believe I'm where I need to be right now, and I know that God is working in my life, blah, blah. But there are days when I wonder when it will be my turn to go before the Board (I have two more years of full-time service before I can even apply for ordination), to get that phone call, to be elected as an elder in full connection, to place my hands on the Bible and have the Bishop ordain me, and to feel that stole go around my neck for the first time.

On Friday, I finally broke down, called Mac, and told him I wanted to meet with him. I'm coming into the office on Monday morning, after I drop Nora off at preschool (which is at our church). We should have almost an hour to talk, and I plan on at least sharing some of the pain, victories, and healing of the past four years or so. And then...I don't know. I'm hoping that sharing it with him, and praying about it with him, will help bring some closure and healing. At the very least, he'll know more of my story. And maybe I'll know more of his, too.

And maybe, if I'm really lucky...he'll tell me if he's moving in June or not.

Thank God Almighty, I'm Free At Last...

Oh my gosh, y'all, there are no words to adequately describe what I'm experiencing and feeling right now.

Well, yes, there is one word: PEACE.

After almost three years, one CPE residency, a year with a pastoral counselor, two years of blogging, and countless crying bouts and prayers, I think I may have reached the point of true healing from not just SJ, but all the turmoil of the last few years.

I helped Mac (my pastor) out at the healing service tonight. It was wonderful, really. I did wear the robe, incidentally. Mac also gave me the impression that he might let me do it solo sometime, which would be cool.

Speaking of Mac, he had better be glad that I have five units of CPE and a well-developed ability to compartmentalize my emotions, be a non-anxious presence, etc. Because if I didn't? I would have been a crying heap on the sanctuary floor, and no use to him at all.

He preached on the 8th chapter of Mark, on the passage where it takes Jesus two tries to heal the blind man. The first try sort of works, but not really. It’s the second try that does the trick. And I don’t remember much about the sermon, just that I got this warm, fuzzy, I’m-gonna-cry feeling and it felt like Mac was preaching JUST FOR ME. Except there were 30 other people in the room, too.

And then…there was Communion. I don’t think I’ve served Communion since my last Sunday at SJ. I’m not talking about being the celebrant: I mean even handling the elements. And the sanctuary at OG is so much like SJ’s. And the congregation reminds of SJ…in the best possible way. Sort of like how things COULD have been.

So, the service ended, Mac thanked me, I thanked him for letting me help, I took off my robe, and went home. He was still talking to some people, and I a) wanted to get home and b) figured that he would want to get home.

But now…I can’t sleep. It’s a good thing. I feel peaceful, so much so that I’m still in tears. I don’t know the last time I felt this good. Maybe I just want to treasure it for a while?

Maybe I should change the name of this blog to “Wounded and Healed”?

To Robe or Not to Robe, That is the Question

Our Congregational Care staff person called me yesterday to see if I could help with tomorrow's healing service (we have a healing service once a month with Communion and anointing oil). She normally helps serve Communion, but can't because she broke her wrist. I just talked to my pastor, and am pretty excited about it. He's preaching, and my main role will be to serve Communion, while he prays with and anoints anyone who stays behind after taking Communion. I may assist with some other part of the service, too. I haven't seen a bulletin, yet.

I'm deciding whether or not to wear a robe. He mentioned that I could, then mentioned that P (the normal staff person who helps him) always just wears street clothes (she's a lay person), but then said, "if you want to robe, that's great, if you don't, that's fine, too." It sounds like he's really OK with either option, so I'm deciding what I want to do. Any thoughts?

I haven't heard about the chaplain job, so I'm assuming I didn't get it. That's fine, really. Harry and I talked about it on Friday night, and we both felt that it just might not be the "right fit" for our family. For starters, I would have needed to find childcare for both kids, one day a week. Do you know how difficult it would be to find an affordable option?

Oh, and in other news, I'm officially on the schedule to preach at our regular Wednesday night service (the first Wednesday is a healing service, and Mac preaches. The other Wednesdays, our lay speakers and now me, take turns preaching.) and as a liturgist for the 8:15 service. Yay.

Getting Ready to Return

I've decided that my vocational mission this year is to get myself ready to return to full-time ministry by July 2012 (the United Methodist appointment year goes from July 1 to June 30). I want to be in the best shape possible in terms of spiritual health, emotional stability, and my confidence in my ability to effectively lead a congregation.

Over the past two-and-a-half years, I have reflected a lot on what I could have done differently in the Saint John's situation and what I will do differently when I return to being a pastor (note the use of the word "when". I'm now certain that it is a "when" and not an "if"). However, I've never actually put those thoughts and ideas in writing; they've just remained in my head. I think it's time to express them "out loud", so to speak.

Even if I were to begin a new appointment today, I know that things would be different. I am not the same naive 29-year-old who walked through the doors of Saint John's in 2006. Obviously, I'm not 29 any more. (: I also weigh about 20 lbs more than that woman and have some unsightly stretch marks. But there are deeper changes that aren't noticeable to the naked eye. I am far, far more realistic and pragmatic now than I was back then. I have an additional four units of Clinical Pastoral Education, and a pretty good handle on basic Family Systems theory. I am a stronger person, and am less "rocked" by the petty things in life. I have increased empathy for people and situations that are different from myself.

But, I'm still growing in my confidence and ability to lead/order the ministry of the church. I think my self-confidence was damaged enough that I need to spend some time developing relationships within the church, to regain my equilibrium in that area. I've still never done a traditional church funeral (remember, no one died while I was at Saint John's). I've also just begun to really re-involve myself in the local church. And then there's the matter of my relationship with God, which is being renewed after two years of negligence.

At the end of my CPE residency, I did a creative verbatim using scenes from "The Lion King" to illustrate my experience in the local church and healing afterward. This scene (click on the link to view it on YouTube) pretty much sums up my attitude in 2006; excited, but not having a clue about what I was walking into:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nGaLVJ9U52I


When I do take another appointment, my attitude will be much more like Simba in this clip:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ea4uc_1VGSE
Informed by the past, confident in who I am, but most importantly, confident in the One who called me and who is saying, "Remember who you are."

Well, Now I Feel Better...

I made up with God today. After two-and-a-half years. It's not like I had stopped believing in Him (sorry, gender-neutral purists, I just feel more comfortable using the traditional language), or that I wasn't speaking to Him at all. It was more like I was giving him the cold shoulder, only speaking to say things like, "pass the salt" (or the theological equivalent).

About a year ago, I mentioned that I was angry with God. I thought admitting that would help me begin to work through the issues, but it really didn't. There were certainly moments when I felt God's presence and thanked Him (such as when Walter was born) and of course I prayed, both as a result of my vocation and for personal requests. But I was still keeping God on the outside (although that's pretty difficult to do, since God is omniscient and everything). My mom's cancer returning might have had something to do with my ambivalence, or maybe I was suffering from a "hard heart".

But things didn't get better. In fact, they seemed to get worse. I've felt like I've been in a fog since Nora was born, and it's gotten worse recently. I've been fairly snappish towards Harry and the kids, excessively anxious about things, and just generally depressed (and since I've been on antidepressants and ADD meds for nine years, that's something). I've been trying to figure out what to do with my vocation/family (I have to be ordained by 2015 or re-apply for provisional membership all. over. again) and wondering if I should try and be a pastor again or pursue chaplaincy full-time.

This preaching gig was probably what sent me over the edge. I'm excited, but anxious at the same time. I kept dealing with flashbacks to St. John's and struggling with those memories. I then got mad at myself that I'm still dealing with it over two years later. Shouldn't I be "over it" by now?

This morning, it was like a thunderbolt hit me out of the blue: I needed God back as more than a fair-weather friend, as more than a fixture on the mantle. So, I got home, put Walter down for his nap, and began looking for a Bible (of course, I have one on my iPhone and can access it on my laptop, but I wanted a hard copy in my hands). It took me 20 minutes to find a (non KJV) Bible, which is saying something about my level of spiritual vitality these days. Anywho, I found a Bible, opened it, and spent the next half hour or so in some QT with God. We talked, I apologized for ignoring Him, and I admitted that it's very possible that the Saint John's situation might have turned out better (or at least been less scarring for me) if I had indeed been having regular devotions/cultivating our Relationship.

It's amazing how well the rest of the day went. Nora did some of her same, annoying, three-year-old stuff, but it didn't bother me nearly as much. I was able to be patient and respond to her lovingly and (when necessary) firmly. When Harry walked through the door, I didn't feel like throwing the kids at him and running for the hills. We didn't snap at each other all evening. Finally, I'm feeling much more in control and less anxious about this preaching gig in 2 1/2 weeks. I'm still nervous, but I keep reminding myself that God has my back, and as long as I rely on His strength and not my own, I will be fine.

This probably sounds very unsophisticated and shallow, but it's heartfelt and since Harry is wanting to go to bed (the alarm goes off at 5:30am), I don't have much time.

One parting thought: all the time I was struggling, both during the SJ debacle and afterwards, not one of my clergy friends, lay Christian friends, or family members asked me, "how goes it with your soul?" Why is that? Why do we not ask each other the hard questions? True, I may have simply said, "Oh, it's fine." But, I may have been forced to look inward and make these realizations a lot sooner.

Well, THAT Only Took Me 18 Months to Realize...

It's amazing the realizations that come to us in the middle of the night, or the wee hours of the morning. Today, I had one of those realizations and amazingly enough, I still remember it and can blog about it.

I'm angry at God.

I've struggled with lots of anger over the past 18 months. I was angry at myself, then at SJ, then at my District Superintendents (both of them), then at my Board of Ordained Ministry, the Annual Conference, and even Harry (although that's not the case anymore-and since he reads this blog, I know we'll be having a conversation when he gets back from his overnight trip). But I had never even felt or even contemplated that I might be angry at God.

I think that the catalyst for this realization is Harry's trip up to his undergraduate alma mater to give a presentation on some fun math topic. See, in our original Grand Plan, Harry was supposed to be teaching at Alma Mater University after he received his PhD. He was one of the bright stars of the department; his former professor, mentor, and friend described him as the best student he's ever had. Every time Harry would visit during graduate school, key people in the department would do this "wink, wink, nudge, nudge" thing and ask him when he was graduating (with the understanding that they wanted him to come and teach). So, he would teach at Alma Mater and I'd serve a church in the area, and life would be Great.

The year Harry received his PhD (2006), there were three (3) full-time faculty positions available in the department. He applied for all of them, as well as at least five or six other faculty positions at various colleges/universities within the boundaries of my annual conference. To be "on the safe side", he also applied to three or four schools outside the conference. His grades were PERFECT, he was already published, had presented several papers, had excellent recommendations, etc. I expected schools to be fighting over him. Who wouldn't want my brilliant, gifted, hard-working husband on their faculty??

But that's not what happened. He went to a huge math conference in January and only got about five or so "mini-interviews" and of those interviews, he only got invited for TWO on-campus interviews, neither of which were in our annual conference. Alma Mater University never contacted him for an on-campus interview, and when he made some inquiries, he found out they were drooling over a bunch of people who had done post-doctoral research and seemed to care less about Harry (his former professor was quite incensed about this, by the way. Jim wanted Harry to come to Alma Mater as much as Harry did, maybe more).

So...he got a job offer at a small university about 70 miles from the border of our annual conference, and accepted the position. Then I had to make a request for an appointment as close to the VA/NC border as possible. Then I got appointed to SJ, and I now know that they had specifically asked for a pastor who was OLDER and EXPERIENCED (the opposite of me, in other words), and no one saw fit to tell me this until 18 months into my time there. My two years at SJ were probably the worst in my life so far (and it wasn't all about the church-my FIL died, my dog died, my mother got breast cancer, Harry and I were separated for six months while we had a newborn) and did severe damage to my reputation, my family, and my emotional health. I'm still in "recovery/healing" mode from all that and am scared to death to return to the local church because of those two years.

It really just feels that from January 2006 to May 2008, Harry and myself were the unwilling subjects of a massive amount of human and natural screw-ups. So much seemed like it was out of our control. And I'm just now realizing/willing to admit that I sort of blame God for that, and am just slightly angry at God for that. That awareness is both freeing and terrifying. It's freeing because I know it's a step towards complete healing. It's terrifying because I don't want to be mad at God and, as much as I tell others (and believe that) "it's OK to be angry at God. God can handle your anger. Let it out", the truth is that it just feels wrong to me...like lightning is going to strike me at any moment.

I could write more, but Nora is calling "Mama, Mama" and banging on the baby gate to her room, so I'd better go liberate her. We're planning a "Girls' Afternoon/Evening Out", complete with a trip to a local mall that has a CAROUSEL and a cool play area.

On Departing a Church...

Over the past few months, I read posts by several blog friends as they prepare to, and then leave a church under less-than-ideal circumstances (in other words, it's not "I feel God leading me to this new ministry setting, so let's celebrate the fruits of our ministry, cry a little, and prepare to move forward", it's more "I really need to leave this place for my well-being/that of my family or because I have no choice but to leave."

I'm sure that leaving a church is painful no matter what the circumstances, but it seems to be especially heart-wrenching and have a painful aftermath when the situation resembles the latter of the two I mentioned above. Granted, I've only left one church, and it was a "get the heck out of Dodge" situation, so it's not like I have vast amounts of experience in that area.

In my situation, less than two weeks elapsed from the time my D.S. called me (while I was in a Wal-Mart parking lot, incidentally) to say that, "these people are out for blood, it's your blood they want, and things are not going to get better if you stay until June; it will get much worse" and then proposed the "paid study leave" that turned into an unpaid family leave. I received his phone call on Tuesday, April 22, 2008 and my final Sunday was May 4, 2008.

At first, I was elated, because a) I was going to get out of there and it had been his idea and not mine, b) I was (at first) still going to receive my salary for another eight weeks, c) I would be free to join my husband and reunite our family in a brand new setting. However, over the next week or so I began to have conflicting emotions. I still sensed that I needed to leave early...or at least would pretty much have no choice by the end of things...but also struggled with the need to be gracious and take the higher road while also really wanting to throw things and cuss some people out. Because of the timing of everything (the initial phone conversation happened the day before my DS left for General Conference, our denomination-wide gathering), just about everything was done via phone or e-mail. There was pretty much no interaction between me and the congregation's leaders. My next-to-last Sunday (April 27, I think), the tension in the worship service could have been cut with a knife. There was a special Council meeting after worship (that I did not attend, because the DS pretty much advised against it), and an e-mail later that afternoon from my PPR chair, who said that they decided to "pass" on the proposal "offered by you and Rev. ____" because they didn't "see any benefit to us." They had decided to let me continue as their pastor (not like they really had any choice...) until June.

The D.S. was furious at them, because the key leaders had essentially agreed to our initial proposal, the Council meeting was supposed to be a formality, and so they essentially reneged on the deal. As he explained to me the next day, I had a choice; I could stay at SJ until the end of June (when my appointment would officially end) or I could take unpaid family leave ad interim and have the next Sunday be my final day. Well, you know my final choice; I shook the dust off my feet and left early. I took 24 hours to pray about it, and while I did wonder if I shouldn't just "tough it out" for two months, I eventually decided that the cost to my family and my own well-being just wasn't worth "toughing it out". Harry made it very clear that he wanted Nora and me away from SJ ASAP and he didn't care how it happened. I also felt that given that the entire congregation knew that I had essentially tried to leave with a severance package, things probably would be have REALLY REALLY bad for those final weeks.

I made the decision on Tuesday, wrote a very gracious letter of resignation to my PPR chair, and gave it to her in person that day. Her reaction, "well gosh, I hope you don't think we were trying to run you out of town!" Of course, I was nice, but you know what I REALLY wanted to say? Pardon my French, but it would have been this, "Oh, please, b*tch, that's exactly what you were trying to do, and we both know it."

For my final Sunday service, I stayed with the "take the high road" theme and had my Lay Leader (who made my PPR chair seem NICE in comparison-she didn't even talk to me that last day) read scripture and my PPR chair help me serve Communion. Some people knew it was my last Sunday; although there had been no formal announcement, my PPR chair had undoubtedly called my Lay Leader as soon as I left her driveway on Tuesday. My lay leader had a mouth wider than the Mississippi, and she probably called half the congregation herself ("we did it! She's leaving early!") . Of course, others had no clue until they arrived at church and either a) someone told them or b) they heard my announcement. I wrote a lovely letter to the congregation (too bad I can't find it anymore) and while I don't remember lots of it, I do remember there was one line where I said, "I may not be your pastor anymore, but I would be honored to be your friend." I preached on John 17 and talked about unity, forgiveness, and reconciliation. Finally, I prayed for the congregation at the close of the sermon. Yeah, I took the high road. I was so high above some of them, they were SPECKS.

Afterwards...nothing. Several people hugged me, one cried, and several sincerely said they had appreciated my ministry and wished me well. The rest? Either ignored me or gave empty expressions of goodwill. My PPR chair was very "nice" and made a big show over Nora and how much she'd miss her. Against my better judgment, I let her hold Nora for a few minutes.

And then we left...I took a day to pack and gather what we'd need for two weeks in Harry's one-bedroom apartment. We closed on our new house on May 16, and were moved out of the parsonage by May 21 or so. We left the parsonage IMMACULATE, mostly thanks to my cleaning lady (I had that luxury in Danville, but not here) who spent about 20 hours cleaning the parsonage after we moved out. Even the ultra-critical Parsonage Committee found nothing wrong with it.

Sometimes I regret having been SO. DANG. NICE throughout the whole leave-taking process. I feel like I repressed some emotions that I was feeling and robbed myself and them of the potential for some healing. On the other hand, if I had shared more of my emotions and been more up-front with the congregation at large of the issues at hand, that might have caused more problems.

I've really grown a lot...and experienced a lot of healing and recovery in the past year and a half. But there are still some scars, and I'm glad that I have this blog as an outlet and fellow clergy who have "been there, done that, got the T-shirt" who can offer empathy and support. My prayer is that we will all continue to move forward into the next great adventure that God has planned for us...whatever that may be.

Dual Vocations

It's been almost three weeks since my residency ended, and the past two weeks I've pretty much been in my "stay-at-home mom" routine. While it's still very early in the game, right now I love it. I don't miss going to (paying) work and am enjoying the chance I have to attempt to make the house clean and orderly. I enjoy spending time with my daughter and not being exhausted in the evenings after driving an hour from the hospital. Of course, there are rough moments. Nora just turned two, and it seems like overnight she became the classic two-year old with tantrums and obstinacy. My patience wears thin some days. I'm not getting as much done as I'd like to, between fatigue (still! at 16 weeks!) and the explorations of an active two-year-old (she just learned to climb the stairs and she gets into everything, even when contained on one level). However, the good outweighs the not-so-good, and I feel like I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing.

In a way, I think that I've been struggling between my vocation as a clergyperson and my vocation as a mother ever since Nora was born. I don't believe the two are incompatible, and I know plenty of women who do both very well and even thrive. Their children thrive, too. I admire my friends and colleagues who fall into the above category. I'm just not sure that I'm called to both work a full-time (or even substantial part-time) job AND be a mother. I wind up feeling too torn and unable to do either vocation well. Right now, even if a high-paying, full-time, chaplain job (or the perfect parish) fell into my lap, I don't think I'd want to take it. Seriously. Even if it was "perfect" and the salary was amazing. I want to be able to focus my heart and my energy on my family, and I'm blessed to be able to do so.

I have, under my belt, an education that someone (me and Harry, my parents, some foundations, my paternal grandparents' estate, Uncle Sam) paid over $100K for, five units of CPE, and thousands of dollars and hours and hours of time spent working towards ordination in the UMC. I'm currently on family leave, and have five years (after this year) before my time as a provisional elder "runs out" and I have to begin again. Some might say that I am "wasting" all that I've worked for and not using my gifts. I'd have to disagree with them. I'm sure that Nora and Junior (our current name for baby #2) will benefit from my education and training. I also have the security of knowing that if something happened to Harry or his job, I would be in a better position to provide for my family than if I did not have a graduate degree and subsequent training. Finally, I do not believe that one needs to be in an "official" ministry position in order to practice their vocation.

I don't know how long this current season will last, but for now, I'm content. My family is stable and thriving, and so am I. I feel at peace and am doing what I feel God wants me to do. What more can I ask for? What more can any of us ask for?

Needed: Accountability and Support

A key part of my CPE experience has been reflecting on and growing from my parish experience. I believe that I have been mostly healed, thanks to God, my colleagues, an insightful supervisor, and my husband. As I see it, what happened was really the intersection of three parties and the issues we had that contributed to "the perfect storm", as Henry (my supervisor) calls it. First, there was the church, which was small , dying, and consisted mostly of individuals over 55. It had been through some pretty deep divisions in the past. It was also located in an economically depressed area. As of result of those issues, it was an anxious, immature, and insecure system. The church specifically asked the District Superintendent for an older pastor, preferably one with more experience. Instead, they received me, a 29 year-old pastor who was in her first appointment with ministry being her first career. My husband did not fit their idea of a pastor's spouse and had no desire to conform. I was inexperienced, lacking confidence, and was learning how to be a pastor, while they needed someone who could lead them boldly. I also went through a number of personal issues during my two years as their pastor (father-in-law dying, pregnancy, baby, dog dying, mother diagnosed with cancer, husband getting job four hours away, etc) which made me unable to be as emotionally available to them as I could have been, and as they needed me to be. They felt threatened and scared, so they did what they knew to do...fight for their church. I still don't think they have any idea how much they hurt me and my family; if I were to confront them now, they'd probably react very defensively. Anyway, that's their story.
Second, there was the Cabinet (the bishop and all the District Superintendents in the annual conference), which needed a pastor for this church. The DS either had her head stuck in the sand or had no clue about how damaged this church was. Anyway, I needed an appointment close to my husband's job, this church needed a pastor, and it was just about as close as I could get and still be within the boundaries of the Annual Conference. So, the Cabinet appointment me to the church. The DS didn't see fit to tell me that I was the EXACT OPPOSITE of what the church had requested. The outgoing pastor didn't tell me anything about the church's history or about any issues that I might encounter. Actually, she didn't tell me much of anything, except the very basics. Of course, the church didn't tell me until 18 months later, but I'm not sure that it was their place to do so. When everything seemed fine the first year, my DS didn't pick up on any of the "warning signs" that I now recognize: mostly superficial and petty comments by the PPR, almost no contact outside of worship/meetings unless initiated by me, frustrations expressed by my PPR that I "didn't know how to lead" and doubts about my maturity. When I got a new DS my second year, he seemed better at first and I connected with him easier, but he seemed to minimize the situation and really wasn't proactive and prophetic enough with either me or the church. I don't know what he told the Board of Ordained Ministry about me, but it must have been pretty negative, since the Provisional Process Committee required an in-person meeting with me.
The third story belongs to me, and you've heard most of it through this blog. If you haven't read the "back story", there's a link in the sidebar. I certainly had my own issues that contributed to everything and take responsibility for that. I didn't claim or utilize my authority well (sometimes, at all), I didn't set and enforce appropriate boundaries, I didn't work hard enough at my relationships with certain individuals, etc. I've identified key growing edges and have seen a lot of improvement and will continue to seek growth.
I've pretty much forgiven the local church for their part in what happened. There are certain people who I don't ever want to see again, but my anger toward them is mostly gone. I am still mad at the district/conference, though. They certainly had a part in this, but it feels like they just left me out to dry and may even have written me off as an ineffective pastor without knowing the whole story. My DS certainly knew much of what was going on in my life yet offered very little support or understanding. He also offered almost no insight on what I could have done to make things better. Anything he suggested (be transparent, increase visitation, communicate clearly) I did, but it didn't do the trick. I got the feeling that I was simply supposed to "bend over and take" whatever abuse the church threw at me. It would also have been nice if some sort of action had been required from the local church after I left...more training, a stern talking-to, some sort of severance pay for me. I don't know what's happened since I left, but my gut feeling is that life continued as before (except they had no pastor for six weeks) with no or very little acknowledgment.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again; my clergy friends helped bring me through that situation. They provided a shoulder to cry on, a listening ear, compassion, and affirmation. However, I wish that they would have been a little firmer with me and been willing to confront me, especially when the trouble was beginning. They mostly patted my hand and sympathized with me as I told horror stories.

So, those are my thoughts these days. I guess I feel like I was either offered sympathy and further enabled in my behavior OR abused/neglected. Some empathy partnered with constructive criticism and practical help/advice would have been the best. I know that's rare in the local church, but I think the district/conference officials and my clergy friends were capable of offering it.

Yes, I'm Alive

A lot has happened since I last posted, both professionally and personally. First, the hospital at which I'm doing my residency is going through some financial difficulties due to the recession. They've had some layoffs and made a lot of cutbacks in other areas. For example, no one (not even the medical residents) gets on-call meals anymore. There was some talk of ending our CPE residency early (in late May instead of late August), but they decided to keep us for the duration. However, the administration decided to end the CPE residency program after this year, which made a lot of us very unhappy, especially since the chaplain residency program costs the hospital a whopping $8,000 a year, thanks to Medicare/Medicaid reimbursement. Sigh. At least I have a job until August!

On the personal end, Nora (my 20 month-old daughter) is not walking yet. This has been an ongoing saga for almost a year now. We first noticed some gross motor delay at six months, which is when she first rolled over. She didn't sit up by herself until eight months, didn't start crawling until almost 14 months, and just in the past month or so has been taking steps while holding onto someone. The problem seems to be low muscle tone. She's been receiving weekly physical therapy since November, saw a neurologist in March, and had bloodwork and an MRI brain scan in April, both of which turned out fine. My husband and I work with her as much as we can, of course. It's just been pretty frustrating, since none of us (not even the PT) thought it was going to be this big of a deal. At this point, we're fervently hoping that she'll be walking by her birthday in late August. The good news is that she's on target or advanced in every other area of development and is a very happy and charming child. We adore her and are thankful to have her in our lives.

I've also been discerning my calling and thinking about the "what next?" question. I know I'm not ready to go back to the local church as a pastor. Harry definitely isn't; he's still dealing with his own scars and demons from our experience, and he hasn't had the benefit of CPE to help deal with all that. My current decision is to look for a chaplain job, preferably in a hospice setting. Meanwhile, I'll happily be a stay-at-home mom to Nora. It will involve some penny-pinching, but we can handle it financially. We're very blessed that Harry not only works in a high-paying (and stable) field but is also brilliant, hard-working, and accomplished. I might also see about doing per diem chaplain work, supply preaching, weddings to bring in some extra cash.

The good news is that I feel that I've mostly healed from my parish experience, thanks to CPE and my supervisor. I feel like over the past year, I've moved from being in the ER trauma bay, to ICU, to a regular hospital room, to rehab. There are still some residual feelings (like anger at district and conference staff, which I may explore later), but a huge amount of work has been accomplished. Thanks be to God and to His servants for bringing me this far.