The toe pledge

In response to my pedicure post, my sister sent me this:

It's that time of the year again. Please
> Raise your big toes and repeat after me:
>
> As a member of the Faux Paux Sisterhood, I pledge to follow The Rules
> when I wear sandals and other open-toe shoes:
>
> I promise to always wear sandals that fit. My toes will not hang over
> and touch the ground, nor will my heels spill over the backs. And the
> sides and tops of my feet will not pudge out between the straps.
>
> I will vow to keep my nails polished (clear polish is acceptable) and the polish fresh, intact and
> chip-free. I will not cheat and just touch up my big toe.
>
> I will sand down any mounds of skin before they turn hard and yellow.
>
> I will shave the hairs off my big toe.
>
> I won't wear pantyhose even if my misinformed girlfriend, coworker,
> mother, sister tells me the toe seam really will stay under my toes if
> I tuck it there.
>
> If a strap breaks, I won't duct-tape, pin, glue or tuck it back in to
> place hoping it will stay put. I will get my shoe fixed or toss it.
> No matter how much it hurts.
>
> I will not live in corn denial; rather I will lean on my good friend
> Dr. Scholl's if my feet need him.
>
> I will resist the urge to buy jelly shoes at Payless for the low, low
> price of $4.99 even if my feet are small enough to fit into the kids'
> sizes. This is out of concern for my safety, and the safety of others.
> No one can walk properly when standing in a pool of sweat, and I would
> hate to take someone down with me as I fall and break my ankle.
>
> I will take my toe ring off toward the end of the day if my toes swell
> and begin to look like Vienna sausages.
>
> I will be brutally honest with my girlfriend/sister/coworker when she
> asks me if her feet are too ugly to wear sandals. Someone has to tell
> her that her toes look like they've been dragged behind her car on the
> way to work and no sandal in the world is going to make her feet look
> good.
>
> I will promise if I wear flip flops, that I will ensure they actually
> flip and flop, making the correct noise while walking and I will swear
> NOT to slide or drag my feet while wearing them.
>
> I will promise to go to my local beauty school at least once per
> season and have a real pedicure (they are about $15 and worth EVERY
> penny). I say spend another $15.00 and get a even better one.
>
> And finally...
>
> I will promise to throw away any white/off-white sandals that show
> Signs of wear...nothing is tackier than dirty white sandals...
>
> For all our sakes, please don't keep this to yourself - pass it on to
> other Sisters.
>
> May God Bless your Soles as well as your Soul!

Hymnal Problems

So I'm thumbing through the hymnal looking for Ascension hymns, (our bulletin person is going to Hawii next week, so I have to pull everything together ahead of time), and I'm not finding much I can be excited about. The "king" image seems to be just about the only Christ image on offer, for one thing. I could go with one "king" hymn, but three or four? I mean, aren't their any other images that help us get at the meaning of Ascension? It's not so much the maleness of that image that bothers me as its utter foreigness to anything the average 21st century American might find resonating with his/her actual daily life
experience.

Then it hits me. Freebird! ( See post below) It would totally work:

If I leave here tomorrow, would you still remember me?
Cause I've got to be movin' on now
There are so many places I've got to see
And if I stayed here with you now
Things just could not be the same
Cause I'm as free as a bird now
And this bird you cannot change . . .

It's all there: the departure, the untamedness of the risen Christ, his need to be present in other places, even an image (bird) that foreshadows the descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost! Think I could get away with it???

Of course, the second verse doesn't work as well.

Why is it . . .

. . . that I can blow forty bucks taking the family to the Fiesta at the Catholic church, (rides, raffles, food), and will go with my husband to an overpriced weekday lunch to get some kid free time when we could have accomplished the same thing at home with a tuna sandwich, and consider library fines an acceptable line item in the family budget BUT I cannot bring myself to get a pedicure because THAT would be a frivilous waste of money???

Boomer Memorial

I did a funeral today. It was for a man in his early fifties who died suddenly after many years of severe mental illness and other health problems. His family did not want a big, formal, service: just a gathering of family and close friends--in the chapel instead of the sanctuary. They said they did not want organ music, but would bring a CD player and some music. His sister said she thought Day by Day from Godspel would be appropriate. She did not own the CD, but thought she knew where she could find it. I agreed to this plan.

So this afternoon I broke away from our women's retreat early to return to the church. I got there with just enough time to meet with the family briefly and get my materials together. Imagine my surprise, then, when at the appropriate point in the service I signaled the cousin running the CD player to cue the music--and I heard wafting across the chapel toward me not The Godspel's Day by Day, but Lynrd Skynrd's Freebird.

If I leave here tomorrow, will you still remember me?

I successfully supressed the urge to laugh out loud and sat in respectful meditation, watching the congregation. All the men of a certain age were communing with their inner seventeen year olds--some smiling, some with eyes closed --obviously transported to another spring in another place, some actually getting teary and choked up. The seventy and eighty year old contemporaries of the deceased's parents were looking either confused or shocked. What on earth is this song and why am I hearing it in church? The twentysomething nieces and nephews were being polite: this is what was cool when uncle was young, poor thing.

The cousin let the sound fade out once it hit that long instrumental section at the end and I got up to read the Twenty-third Psalm. But somehow, I had not made the complete return trip from that spring dance at the end of seventh grade because I suddenly heard myself saying,
Even thought I rock through the valley of the shadow of death . . .

Baby boomer funerals are different, huh?

My sins

I thought you'd all want to know. .

Your Deadly Sins

Sloth: 60%

Envy: 20%

Gluttony: 20%

Greed: 0%

Lust: 0%

Pride: 0%

Wrath: 0%

Chance You'll Go to Hell: 14%

How Sinful Are You?

Installed

Sunday was a wonderful day--despite my earlier rant about installations. At the time of each of my installations, my Mom has made the same joke about plugging me in like a refridgerator. But hah! I discovered today that the earliest use of the word install is from the 1500s and refered to placing a bishop into ecclesiastical office by the act of him sitting in the bishop's "stall" in the cathedral. The word install is not found to refer to the setting up of machinery until the late 19th century.

I found this wonderful info here. Prepare to waste hours and warn your parishoners to expect some of those "word analysis" sermons over the next few weeks.

Enough of this crap

Okay. I'm really a pretty reasonable person. I'm the type of feminist who does NOT insist that every slight or inconvenience is about my suffering at the hands of the evil patriarchy. HOWEVER, after 17 years of ordained ministry and in a time and place where clergywomen are not all that rare, should I have to put up with being chased by the security guard in the hospital parking lot?

"Excuse me--ma'am? Ma'am? MA'AM?????

"Yes?"

"That spot you just parked in is reserved for clergy."

"Yes, I know."

"So why'd you park there?"

"Because I'm clergy."

Eyes narrow, arms cross. "What church"

"________ Presbyterian"

Shrug. "Okay--just checking."

Now I ask you all--would a well dressed, forty-something male have had this same experience?

Disneyland Miracle

My parents are visiting for the installation thingy happening this Sunday. It's their first visit to us here in SoCal, so we made the requisit trip to Disneyland. I'm a bit cynical about the whole notion of "Disney Magic", but I'm not a killjoy. It was not a crowded day at the park by any means, but there were still LOTS of people. I was reflecting that seeing those teeming throngs of humanity milling about makes the notion that there is a loving Creator who knows each one by name seems so unlikely--and the idea that there is a loving Savior who loved each one enough to become one of us and suffer death seem patently absurd.

Later we were searching for a spot to watch the parade. As we pushed our way through the crowd, my little girl tugged at my sweater and whispered, "Mama! There's Sarah!" Sure enough, on the other side of the avenue was her very best friend from her school in Portland, the one she has been missing intensely since we left 10 weeks ago, the one she's found no equal for in her new school. We leaped over the parade barrier and ran to her. The girls squealed with delight and jumped up and down. Her Mom and I shook our heads and said, "What were the chances?" They were on a somewhat impromtu vacation to visit some family in San Bernardino. The girls have exchanged notes since we left, but her Mom and I were not close friends so I'd not communicated with her. We all watched the parade together, the girls hand in hand and wide eyed with wonder.

O Lord, Our Lord, how majestic is thy name in all the earth.

Kind of late on this one but what the heck . . .

Accent: vaguely midwestern. Henry Higgins could probably detect subtle undertones of Southern and New York with the merest hint of British.

Booze: Red wine, hard cider---can't say I really want to repeat that late adolescent experiment with Orange Kool Aid and Everclear . . .

Chore I Hate--picking up stuff and putting it away

Dog or Cat--Cat. I like other people's dogs, though.

Electronic Necessity--cell phone and computer

Favorite Cologne--4711

Gold or Silver--silver. I'm really only just now getting back into wearing jewelry after the "can't wear it cause the baby/toddler/preschooler with grab it/choke on it/yank it and break it" years.

Home Town--Eight major moves between birth and college. Favorite growing up places were North Carolina and England.

Insomnia--yeah, off and on

Job Title--New Pastor at LA academic suburb church.

Kids--Two

Living Arrangements: One house, one husband, one cat, two kids

Most Admirable Trait--short sermons

Number of Sexual Partners--Can't answer this one--my mom reads this blog

Overnight Hospital Stays--Tonsilectomy at age 4. Two births. Several all-nighters spent with other people in the hospital or with their families.

Phobias: Making phone calls to people I don't know very well. Thank God for e-mail!!

Quote: "I knew I shouldda taken dat left toin at Albequoiki . . ." Bugs Bunny

Religion: Yes, most days.

Sibs: Two--younger bro and sis

Time I Wake Up: I am the only night person in a family of early risers. This REALLY sucks.

Unusual Talent: Ear wiggling

Vegetable I Hate--Raw Celery

Worst Habit: Losing my keys

Xrays---teeth, chest, do ultrasounds count?? What about mamograms??

Yummy Foods I can cook: shrimp dip, rum cake, sesame noodles

Zodiac Sign: Cancer/Dragon

How'd he DO That?

We have a distinguished visitor at our church this weekend. (prep for this event partly explains my silence on the blogosphere recently) Anyway, his visit was planned well before I arrived. He is a lovely man. Gives a nice talk/workshop. Gracious to children and old ladies. Doesn't name drop too much--no more than I probably would were I as notable and distinguished as he is. And I'm glad that he is preaching tomorrow and not me because I get to enjoy Saturday for a change.

Here's what I don't quite understand. Part of his distinguishedness is that, in addition to serving several tall steeple type churches, he is the author of more than a dozen books. How did he do that?? I can barely keep all the plates spinning, much less think about doing the research, thinking, contemplating and writing involved in producing an actual book. Even ONCE. Now, I'm guessing he had a spouse that probably didn't work full time. But even if I had a full-time homemaker in my life, I'm still not sure I could pull it off. I can hardly find the time to blog, for pete's sake.

How about you all. Have you figured this out?

CrossWalk

Several of my friends are involved in CrossWalk America, an organization that is walking cross country even as we speak to raise awareness of an more expansive vision of Christianity than the more conservative vision that gets more air time generally. Would that this were in the LA Times this morning instead of a big story about a Christian young man suing for the right to wear a T-shirt to his high school informing his gay classmates that they should be ashamed. I know there are legitimate first amendment issues involved---but it makes me sad that the message that gets out is that being Christian is primarily about being anti-gay. Anyway--check out the walk and the blog that accompanies it.

Good News/Bad News

The good news: I had my very first IRL meet-up with a RGBP! Katherine and I had a too brief chat at a local coffee house before I had to race off to the next thing in a day I had managed to pack WAY to tightly. She's a lovely person and we talked about the rest of y'all---so if your ears were burning, that's why.

The bad news: Two more notches in my Bad Mom black belt. First, today my son was supposed to bring a paper towel tube to school for a classroom activity. I forgot. This caused great consternation when the boy discovered that, not only had I forgotten, but my schedule was such that returning home to fetch one was just not in the cards. Luckily, there were plenty of extras provided by the good moms who remembered. Second, I got scolded by my cleaning lady for not cleaning the house sufficiently in preparation for her arrival. HeLLO! If I were anything approximating a tidy person I would not employ a cleaner, right? Anyway, I'm warned that if I don't do better, she will have to charge me more.

How was YOUR day???

Easter Near Miss

We had a near disaster on Easter afternoon. The kids were rollerblading under strict orders not to skate anywhere near the grill where we were roasting our Easter chicken. After the bird was roasted and eaten, my son went back outside. Perhaps it was the effect of all the candy, but he disregarded the no-skating-near-the-grill injunction and ended up slamming into it. Providentially, the top was still on and he knocked the grill away from himself so no hot coals fell on him. Still, he got screeched at and his rollerblades were confiscated until further notice.

He ran into his room, there to bewail his sins and his cruel fate. After about fifteen minutes, he came out, grabbed his nerf baseball bat and began hitting himself on the head with it.

"You don't have to do that, you know," I said to him. "When you make a mistake the best thing is to learn from it and move on."

"No," he said. "I'd rather hit myself over the head, then forget all about it."

Which is the whole problem, isn't it? We'd all rather endure a little short term punishment than experience true repentance. . .

Our place this Easter.

Rain on Good Friday

"It always rains on Good Friday. It's because God is sad." So one of my neighbors told me when I was sixteen and I had made some remark about the rotten weather we were having during Holy Week.

I was skeptical. This was at the time my family was living in England and it occurred to me, (though I was polite enough not to say so to her), that rain there on any Friday in April was a pretty good bet.

Life went on. I did notice that it rained on Good Friday almost every year. Still, climate seemed to be the best explanation. I lived in Ohio and New York where rainy springs are commonplace. Then I spent 15 years in the Pacific Northwest. Enough said.

This is my first Good Friday in Southern California--land of endless sunshine. It's pouring.

Just in time for Maundy Thursday

Check this out:

Yes, those are real palm trees. Not bad for a midwestern girl . . .

Bad Mom Award

Today my daughter's class had a multi-cultural festival. Part of the deal was that each family was to bring a potluck item from their own ethnic heritage. Right. On the cusp of Holy Week I'm gonna be whipping up pots of homemade borcht, or bratwurst, or platesful of cream scones. I visited the bakery department of my local grocer, selected an assortment of bagels, and slathered them with cream cheese. I slapped on a label that said "Eastern European-American" and declared my work done.

They looked pretty sorry next to the platters of home made eggrolls, enchiladas, beans and rice, and New Orleans caramel cake the other Moms produced.

Too late, it occured to me that with our family's deep midwestern taproots, I could have lit up the room with lime jello and mini marshmallows.

Next year.

The grass is always greener . . .

What I like about being in a bigger church:
1. Lots more people with varying gifts
2. You can buy stuff you need instead of waiting for it to turn up used or free or making it with duct tape
3. Good instruments regularly maintained
4. Building doesn't look like shit
5. Everybody hasn't necessarily known each other since infancy--more surprises
6. Real choir director instead of me waving my arms and hoping for the best


Oh yeah, I remember this crap from before
1. Endless time on administrivia
2. Longer meetings
3. Staff politics
4. People don't necessarily know each other at all
5. More people who could potentially get mad at me if I screw up
6.Annoying lapel mikes

Friday Five on Saturday--Things Your Elders Said

Dad: "Avoid the passive voice!!!!!!!!!" (As he read my high school essays and early literary efforts.)

Grandpa: "What are you dressed as?" (Indicating that he disapproved of one's fashion choice for that day)

Mom: "That's dinner" (To any complaints that the menu was unsatisfactory)

Grandma: "Now, if you always . . . " (Did something you almost never did like empty the dryer as soon as it stopped, put your keys in the same place everyday, did your homework as soon as you got home---life would be better all 'round.)

Aunt M. "Always leave the house looking fantastic because you never know when you'll meet a new boyfriend." (Also apparently works when meeting old boyfriends as she is now dating a guy she dated briefly in college 40+ years ago.)

Russian Grandma: "I theenk if you looook in zat meedle drawer in zee china cabinet . . . ." (When my Mom had confiscated the bags of candy she had brought for me so that I would not eat them all at once and make myself sick)