Spiritual Direction Book Launch

On Friday, October 24, I finished teaching at Spartanburg Methodist College and headed down to Columbia, SC.  I was intrigued by a book launch, and the stars aligned so that I could attend.  One of my grad school friends came with me; she and I are not only grad school friends, but also writers and creative people who have been fascinated by book launches.

That said, we weren't sure what to expect.  Melanie Dobson, the head of the Spiritual Direction Certificate program at Southern Seminary (LTSS), wrote the book, so it made sense that the book launch would be at Washington United Methodist Church downtown.  The event took place in the smaller chapel, a beautiful choice.

I knew very little about the book, but I knew I would buy it regardless.  I like to support writers generally, but I especially like to support writers I know.  I knew that my book purchase would also support All Good Books, an independent bookstore in 5 Points.  I was happy that they were there and set up early; we arrived early too, so we bought our books and settled in.

The book launch was great.  Melanie Dobson spoke a bit about how she approached both the book writing and spiritual direction.  Then we watched group spiritual direction happen.  Three members of her spiritual direction group were present and they came forward.  We watched a shorter version of what they do when they are together in their regular, private meetings.

There was an opening prayer, and then the directee spoke for five minutes.  There was a moment of silence to see what bubbled to the service.  Then each of the women spoke to the directee for three minutes each about what they thought God might be saying.  Then there was closing prayer.

Then came an interesting twist:  we did a bit of spiritual direction too.  We broke into smaller groups, 3-5 people who happened to be sitting near us.  One person volunteered to be the directee, and the rest of us gave insight.  It was slightly shorter, and slightly less personal, since we didn't know each other.  But it was deeply satisfying nonetheless.

Afterward, there was an actual meal in the fellowship hall.  I was expecting refreshments, but something more along the lines of cheese and crackers.  The meal was salad and soup and bread--but a much more extensive selection than I'm used to seeing:  4 soups, several breads, several crackers, and 3 types of salad greens with about 20 bowls of various salad toppings to choose from.  We also had dessert!  I regret that I took no pictures--it was really impressive.

The book signing was leisurely, which gave us time to meet others and to have more personalized attention from Melanie Dobson.  I did feel bad for her--it seemed like it might be exhausting, but I realize it could also be gratifying.

As the evening progressed, I found myself thinking about whether or not I wanted to do more with spiritual direction.  I earned the certificate and promptly moved on to being an MDiv student.  I'm just recording this whisper, because I want to remember it.

If ever I do decide to do more in the field, the book is an amazing resource, with lots of great ideas for how to do spiritual direction--it's the best resource I've seen on the subject.

Inviting a Nurse to Communion

On Sunday on our way home from Bristol, we took communion to a parishioner in the hospital.  My spouse talked to him while I was getting set up.

A nurse came to record vital statistics and check on the parishioner patient.  I was worried we were in her way and offered to wait until she was done.  My spouse, on the other hand, said, "Or you could stay and join us in this small worship service."

She said, "I would love to stay and join you."

I was surprised but forged on ahead.  She participated in all but the thimble-full of wine for communion.

After we were finished with our very short service, she said, "Thank you so much.  I always miss church when I work on Sundays, and it was nice to do this with you."

I was humbled.  I have spent the whole summer in a hospital, after all.  I have spent the whole summer trying to train my brain to remember that I may see myself as an unwelcome intrusion in a hospital room, but that may not be the reality.  In fact, it's probably not the reality--after all, as a chaplain, I was the only one on the medical team who wasn't there to do an invasive or shame-producing procedure. 

My spouse is often better at parts of ministry than I am; he would likely make a better chaplain than I would.  But we are getting much older, and the time for these decisions is closing.

This Sunday encounter also made me think about other ministry outreach activities.  If that nurse misses her Sunday worship opportunities, there must be others of a similar mind.  When we walked into the hospital on Sunday, the lobby was completely vacant.  Could we be a ministering presence to people there to visit loved ones?  Could we roam the floors, doing "drive-by" communion on foot?

If we were a larger church, perhaps.  If I was full-time, looking to make connections to the community, perhaps.  It does make me wonder if the hospital has a chaplain, and if so, where was the chaplain?

As always, the idea of the ministry field is only constrained by our imaginations and by our time and energy.

Worth Fighting For

One of my friends was reflecting on the past year, and she made a statement that church camps are worth fighting for.  I immediately thought about her words as a framing device, as a question, "Is ______ worth fighting for?"

I thought of how often I don't frame my thoughts this way:  my thoughts about decisions, about paths forward, about relationships, about creative pursuits, about the future.  I am more often asking different questions.  Am I any good at this?  Does this nourish me?  Am I wasting time here?  How impossible is this outcome?  Am I doing the right thing?

If it's a decision about a group, change the I to we.  I'm thinking of larger communities too, like higher ed, like the ELCA (the more inclusive Lutheran expression of church that I have committed to), like the U.S.  I'm thinking of decisions about ideas and ideals too:  democracy, being a poet/artist in the world, education, and yes, summer camp.

If I think about what makes monetary sense, I may make different decisions.  Those may be the right decisions, and I'm not advocating that we throw all of those practical considerations away.  But those questions don't always get at a deeper importance.  

If I come away having kept my bank account intact, but I've lost my soul, what/where is the profit?  

It's a question as old as time, and not one unfamiliar to many of us.  But I like my friend's formulation.  It's worth fighting for--so it's worth continuing, worth the struggle, and worth the joy.

God's Paintbrush

Yesterday as I was walking, I saw ghostly shapes, looking as if they had been sketched in the pavement.

My rational brain says that what happened is that trees fell over, and dirt that was on the leaves turned to mud, which dried in the post hurricane days.

But my spiritual brain saw it as God's paintbrush, mud as paintbrush, leaves as paintbrush, pavement as paintbrush.  

My brain has seen other signals from God.  In the days after the hurricane, I saw that the bushes near the lake had started to bloom again.

I am vacillating between hope and despair in these post-hurricane days.  I am happy for signs that help me discern God's voice, calling me to hope.

Friday Fragments: Quilt Projects, Camp Projects, Home Projects

This morning, I've done my work out of order.  I've been doing grading, and now I can't remember ever having had anything worth blogging about.  Let me put down some assorted thoughts:

--At the end of spring Quilt Camp, I put together smaller pieces of fabric by size.  I had a vision of putting together a quilt of random pieces.  It's not exactly worked out that way, but I'm pleased with how it's going:

--I love having a small project to work on in the evening, but it's quickly becoming a large project.

--This morning, I woke up thinking that I should spend the next few weeks sewing together the Log Cabin squares that I spent much of 2023 assembling.  The picture below is from spring 2023:

Then I can have it ready to assemble and quilt at Quilt Camp in November.  Later today I'll put them on the bed to see how many I have.  I'm fairly sure I remember that I have enough for our queen size bed.

--We took the car in for an oil change yesterday, and came home not only with the oil changed, but also with bushings and a control arm for the steering and suspension.  We could have put off this repair for a few months, but when it fails, it will be "catastrophic," according to the mechanic.  Well, this is why we save money, I suppose.

--Today we go to pick up the last of the furniture that we bought a few weeks ago.  We went in to get a kitchen table, and we left with two new chairs--well, we left having ordered them in a fabric that we hope will complete the living room look.  I've been very pleased with the small kitchen table, which can be expanded when we have guests:

--Yesterday we ate a delicious meal at that table, with the window open, and gentle music playing.  We could hear the patter of rain, and it was so delightful, even as we were waiting for the summons to come back and get the car.

--Today is the last day of summer camp at Lutheridge.  I still have dreams of being a director of adult programming at a camp like Lutheridge.  I have memories of Lutheridge summers from years ago, where there was more programming for adults.  Could we ever go back to that?  There are lots of folks in work places where they can't get away for adult programming during the school year (like teachers).  It would be fun to offer Quilt Camp or Create in Me or Wild Women or any other number of programs in the summer.  From what I can tell, there is space for adults in terms of lodging in the summer.  In terms of program space, it would require some creative thinking.  I'm putting this idea here so that I remember it in the future.

--It seems like we just got started, having counselors arrive and then campers.  And now, it's done.  One more summer complete.

--We've had people at camp this week doing burly, lumberjack kind of things.  Some trees needed to be cut into pieces, like the one that fell down last week and took some power lines down with them.  One tree by the lake has been down for over a year, maybe even two or three.  Why cut it apart?

--I did get a poem idea, when I said that men with chainsaws have a different idea of forest management than I do.  I thought this might be an interesting idea to have Noah's wife contemplate.  Or maybe I'll do several approaches and see which one I like best.  Hmmm.

Ghost Seminary

 One reason I wanted to come to this intensive is that it's the last time we'll be on this campus.  Earlier this year, the announcement came that the seminary would be moved to the Lenoir-Rhyne campus in Hickory, NC.  Frankly, as I move around campus, it feels like everybody has already moved there.

I will spend time in the library today, the library that has more books by itself than the whole of the library holdings at the Lenoir-Rhyne campus.  I fear for these books.  I know what often happens:  people will look at the last time a book was checked out and decide that no one is interested and toss the book.  The idea of that makes me sorrowful in so many ways, even as I admit that I rarely check out physical books from my own seminary campus (admittedly harder from a distance).

The dining facility has group pictures of all graduating classes, and I've had fun looking for people I know.  But along the line, I thought about the size of the classes.  We've been told that the seminary must move because there are fewer students.  But based on these pictures, the seminary has never had many students.  The largest graduating class was roughly 30 students.  Far more typical is the class of 1990:

Now, there are other good reasons for moving the seminary.  It's clear that it's been awhile since the buildings were maintained.  My small group is meeting in a building that reeks of mildew, even though the AC is running.  As I walk back to my seminary apartment that's on the far end of the complex, I can see the stucco about to break apart on the walls, and every AC unit looks like it's about to rust through completely.

Still, I hate to think of losing this campus, particularly as I take guesses at what might happen to it.  In yesterday's small group session, I talked about feeling grief about this part of the future.  I talked about how it's a shame to have all this infrastructure disappear into more urban development when so much could be done.  My friend said, "Like create an arts retreat?"

My friend and I have shared this dream, a retreat center that focuses on liturgical arts, for a long time.  I like the idea of communal living as part of it, but only if the communal living means that each person gets their own living space.  I know how quickly communal situations deteriorate when one person's cleanliness/neatness preferences don't mesh with that of others.

The small group was intrigued by the idea of changing the campus to that kind of vision, and I spent the rest of the day thinking about that possibility.  It might be easier to do such a thing at a place that already offers retreats, like Lutheridge.  It might be easier to do such a thing at a place that is also a small seminary--sigh.

I do realize that I don't have the resources of Lenoir-Rhyne, and so why should I think that I could have different outcomes.  But my mind goes back to part of our large group session yesterday, when our learning leader talked about God planting dreams in us like a farmer plants seeds.  I will continue thinking and writing and dreaming.

Internship's End

 Last night, my internship experience came to a close--it was a natural end, nothing dire.  But it does feel like an event worth noting.

First, some background.  Wesley handles internships differently than some  schools.  It's a part-time job coupled with a class where we meet each week to process our experiences together as a group.  The part-time position can be in a church, the typical learning to be a parish pastor kind of job.  But it could also be in any number of other settings, from prisons to hospitals to non-profits.  If a seminarian has a specific vision, as I did, she can file the paperwork to have her site considered.

I was lucky to have this flexibility.  When I was thinking about possibilities, I wasn't sure where I would be living.  The campus housing was slated to be torn down, and I was mulling over options.  I decided that an internship that I could do remotely made sense.  I had been impressed with the way the Southeastern Synod of the ELCA offered online options for spiritual growth, so I reached out to them.  They were agreeable, and happily, the paperwork was not too onerous.  I know that Synod staff are busy folks, and I hated making paperwork requests.

During my seminary journey, I've never been too worried about traditional classes:  I know that I can write, and I can read rigorous books and journal articles, and I have little problem meeting class deadlines.  But the internship process worried me a bit, with its additional parts:  class instructors, internship staff from the school, and Synod staff.  Happily, everything went smoothly.

When I first started at Wesley, the internship stretched over two years, with the class meeting every other week.  I prefer the more intense model that I just completed.  Much can go wrong over two years, and I would hate to have to start over.  Much can go wrong over one year, and I'm glad to have this requirement completed.

When I talk about much that can go wrong, I know that may sound like I'm being a bit of a drama queen.  But I've seen classmates derailed by events, like the death of the mother who was providing childcare or a pregnancy that turned problematic or any number of other health problems.  I know that internship sites that seem fantastic can change.  I feel fortunate that I didn't have any stumbling blocks.

I also feel fortunate that my internship journey has been filled with wonderful people, people I worked with directly and indirectly at the Synod level, faculty, classmates.  I have felt supported and nurtured at every turn.  I know that not everyone gets that experience, and I am so grateful that I have had the experience that I just completed.

Eclipse Regrets

I now have eclipse regret.  Perhaps I should have gone on a quest for totality.  I knew we were going to be at 85% totality, and I thought that would be enough.  But now, seeing other people's pictures and reading about their experiences, I'm wondering if I should have made more of an effort.  After all, we won't have these opportunities often, at least not in driving distance.

I'm also feeling a tinge of sadness for other reasons.  I made this Facebook post yesterday afternoon:  "Strange to think about how much has changed since August 2017, the last time I viewed a solar eclipse. Back then, I wrote this conclusion to a blog post: 'Make plans now: August 12, 2045, my house will be on the path of full totality. If the rising seas haven't washed it away, you're all invited to my house. Full totality will be at 1:37 p.m.' That was my Florida house, now someone else's Florida house, and that post was just a few weeks before Hurricane Irma."

We stayed in that house for four more years, many of them years of trying to stay sane in the midst of home repairs from hurricane damage.  Sure, we were one of the lucky ones--our insurance paid for the repairs, with minimum struggle to get them to do it.  We thought it was going to be a struggle, with a need to send documentation about our contractor and to get said contractor to fill in reports periodically to get the funds released periodically--and then, out of the clear blue sky, the funds were released in one big check.

I spent the next four years expecting the insurance company to come and demand paperwork or demand their money back or somehow make my life more difficult.  Happily, they did not.

Thinking about 2017 makes me sad for all sorts of reasons.  Even though I didn't have the amount of leave accrued in my new job that would have let me go on a quest for totality, I was happy in that job at that moment.  We had just had a successful accreditation visit.  Our new president who was in charge of two campuses was still mostly at the Ft. Lauderdale campus, still mostly not concerned with my campus, the Hollywood campus.  It was all going to go badly in many different ways in the coming years, but if I had any sense of that fact, it was only a glimmer.

There's also some sadness because we spent that 2017 eclipse in and near the pool in our backyard; my sister and nephew were down for a visit, and we were having a marvelous time.  We still have a marvelous time together, but it's different now, in the normal ways that everything changes as we age.

I have spent time trying not to look back, but every so often, I'm stopped in my tracks.  Usually, I'm stopped for happiness.  If I could go back to 2017 Kristin and tell her how life has changed, she would be amazed:  a home in the mountains, almost done with an MDiv program, a part-time preaching position, and a teaching job at a small, liberal arts college.  That list represents lots of dreams coming true.  It also represents some severances:  something we don't always remember when we think about dreams coming true, that dreams coming true mean some dreams fade away.

It is time to get ready for that teaching job--off I go, soon, down the mountains to teach English at Spartanburg Methodist College.  I teach, while the bathroom install is happening here.  It will be good to be away.

Let me close with another Facebook post from yesterday:  "Today I looked at the sky and looked at the ground, hoping for interesting shadows during the eclipse. No interesting shadows, but I did realize for the first time that one of our spindly trees is a dogwood, one of my favorite trees."

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Campus Minister for Digital Media Ministry Job Description

I'm posting this job description here so I can find it again, should I need to after the posting has been taken down (should that happen). It has intrigued me for several days now.  It's at the University of Dayton.

Position Summary:

Align your passions for creativity, spiritual growth, and faith engagement in this digital ministry opportunity. Apply for our Campus Minister for Digital Media Ministry opening today!

The Campus Minister for Digital Media Ministry leads Campus Ministry in the development and strategic execution of ministry across multiple digital platforms to engage and promote spiritual growth among a diverse body of current students. Develops, implements, and assesses digital ministry projects to foster encounters with God through faith formation, catechesis, and religious practice. Shares the story of faith communities on campus that inspire a sense of belonging and faith engagement. This includes having primary responsibility for Campus Ministry's weekly newsletter, website, social media, and 1850 CampusGroups page; coordinating Campus Ministry’s Digital Ministry Committee; recruiting and working with student ambassadors to support the ministry; developing and curating digital media content; taking initiative on faith development projects which could include videos, podcasts and other digital ministry experiences for student faith development.

Minimum Qualifications:

Bachelor's degree
Excellent written communication skills, including copy writing and editing
Experience or coursework in Theology, Religious Studies, Pastoral Ministry or similar sufficient to create faith development content and engage ministerially with students.
Technical proficiency with using major digital social media platforms and management tools including developing and posting content
Ability to develop and advance a creative vision for digital media engagement as ministry for college students across multiple platforms

Preferred Qualifications:

While not everyone may possess all of the preferred qualifications, the ideal candidate will bring many of the following:

Bachelor’s degree in theology/religious studies or graphic design/marketing or similar
Social media leadership for an organization
Technical experience or familiarity with a web content management system, visual design/editing software, and/or video/podcast production
Ability to design using on-brand graphic elements
Experience creating and implementing ministry experiences for a diverse range of college students (prayer, retreats, reflections, educational content etc.)
Experience working collaboratively with students and staff
Ability to recruit, train and supervise student employees
Capacity to represent the Catholic and Marianist character and mission of the university
Practicing cultural competency in ministry with attention to religious, ethnic, and cultural diversity, equity and inclusion
Knowledge or experience in designing ministry content reflective of diverse religious traditions that include Roman Catholic, Protestant Christian, Islam, Judaism, and Hinduism and others represented on campus
Excellent oral communication skills
Attention to detail with the ability to manage multiple tasks and manage deadlines

Special Instructions to Applicants:
To apply please submit a cover letter addressing each minimum qualification and any applicable preferred qualifications that you meet.
Closing Statement:

Informed by its Catholic and Marianist mission, the University is committed to the principles of diversity, equity, and inclusion. Informed by this commitment, we seek to increase diversity, achieve equitable outcomes, and model inclusion across our campus community. As an Affirmative Action and Equal Opportunity Employer, we will not discriminate against minorities, women, protected veterans, individuals with disabilities, or on the basis of race, color, national origin, religion, sex, sexual orientation or gender identity.

Shifting Employment

 In this time of great resignations and remodelings of our lives, I've been informally collecting/noticing stories of people who have made a shift or are in the process of moving towards a shift.

I have tended to focus on people going back to school.  More specifically, I've been amazed at how many women my age have decided to go to seminary in the past few years.  Often these are women who were already deeply involved in church, although perhaps not in a paid capacity.  Often these are women who have hit some sort of ceiling in their current church jobs and need a different kind of theology degree to get to where they need to go.

Most of the people I know are in caring professions, like pastoring, teaching, and medical fields.  Many women who are undergoing career shifts are moving from one caring area to another.  And some are doing something adjacent.

I heard from a woman who went to college when I did, and her job sounded so cool that I had to ask her about it.  She works in a museum that tells about the history of the county she lives in, and she said this about her job:

"I cannot believe I get paid to teach some amazing school children and dress historically on occasion, plant and maintain an antebellum garden, give tours to people from all over the US, research history and genealogy, work with an amazing group of intelligent , respectful co-workers AND get paid to do it!"

I'm recording it here because I want to remember that there's a wide range of jobs out there.  I've been having some anxiety when I think about the future, both the near future and the further away future.  There are all kinds of jobs out there that don't require more education, jobs that can be fulfilling, jobs that don't involve spreadsheets and downsizing, jobs that help preserve the best of what humanity has been and can be.

Camp Dispatches

I am continuing to write while the choir practices.  I'm staying at camp lodging with no internet connectivity, so I sit here and type.  It's progress--2 weeks ago I wouldn't have been able to type at all.  Still, my internet time is limited.

Here are a few brief snapshots from Music Week:

--When the choir first started rehearsing the music, I thought, I bet I could do this.  As I've continued observing, I've been glad I decided to sit out this experience.  I have a serviceable voice sometimes.  This choir is for people who are much further along than I am.

--The time when choir rehearses is the best time to do my required internet activities:  checking in with my online classes primarily.  Today I did my applications for the 5 jobs that the unemployment benefit process in Florida requires.

--The drumming has been fun--much more my speed.      

--I've been able to be part of the team that decorates the chapel for worship.  Here's a picture of what we created for Tuesday night, with it's theme of Psalm 23 and the Jeremiah passage that talks about return from exile:

--I could be so happy having this kind of ministry--working on creative responses each week to the Gospel.  That could include a written meditation for the newsletter, a visual image for meditation, the altar space . . . I would like to be the specialist that does such things.  Could my ministry be just that and not visiting the sick, tending the building, etc?

--Today is my birthday.  Perhaps the whole camp will sing the song to me.  But if they don't, that's O.K.

--Was the dining hall always this noisy?  It's impossible to have any sort of conversation over a meal.  And I am missing hot chocolate on cool mornings served in battered aluminum pitchers.

--Music Week is much more scheduled than I remember as a kid.  But we are finding time to get some stuff done to get ready to move (a week from today the moving van will have come and the loading of possessions will be underway!).  We've unpacked 2 cars' worth of stuff, and we've bought a mailbox and a post.  This morning, we washed a load of clothes in the washer and dryer that came with the house.  Judging by its avocado color and smaller size, I'm fairly sure it's a circa 1975 washer/dryer all-in-one unit.  And it still works!  In fact, it looks like it hasn't been used much at all.     

--I am trying not to rhapsodic about the weather.  It's been gloriously cool in the morning.  In the afternoon, I can walk from a building to a car without sweating a drop.  Amazing!  We've slept with the windows open (we're in Bacot, not in our new house that has no furniture).

--And on a non-camp note:  this morning was the first time that I woke up without my wrist feeling like a wooden block.  It's not normal by any stretch of the imagination, but it's a sign of progress.

Beachside Foxes

Yesterday during my walk, I had several encounters with one of the neighborhood foxes.  As I write that sentence, I wonder if people still use the term "fox" to mean an attractive female.

I saw the fox from a distance of a block, as we both walked east.  As always, I wondered if I was seeing a fox, a coyote, or a dog.  But the head made me think I wasn't seeing a dog.  And it was a slender creature, which made me think it was either a baby coyote or a fox.  Plus, I've seen a fox in the neighborhood before, but never a coyote.

I continued east to the Intracoastal and then around by the marina, heading up to the route around North Lake.  A few blocks away from the path around the top of the lake, I saw the fox again.  This time, the fox crossed the street, stopped under a tree, and stared at me.

I stared back.  I didn't want to make the fox feel threatened.  Plus, I wanted a good look.  My spouse and I have a long running disagreement.  He often thinks he's seen a coyote, and I think he's probably seeing the neighborhood foxes.

Eventually, I kept walking, and the fox trotted off into a back yard.  I walked home, thinking of all the forest creatures that are here, in a beachside town full of concrete and high towers, very far away from any forest.  If I wrote children's books, I'd write about foxes and raccoons who live in the abandoned houses and go to the beach after everyone goes home.

At home, I looked at various pictures to be sure I was seeing a fox instead of a coyote, and I'm pretty sure it was a fox.  It would have been small for a coyote, but more than that, its face was more like a fox than a coyote.  And back to that slang--how did that become a term for a beautiful woman?  Foxes are cute enough, but other animals are much more beautiful.

I spent the rest of the day working on writing for seminary classes and meeting former colleague friends for lunch at a Mexican restaurant.  In later years, when I look back and wonder why I wasn't writing during this time when I was underemployed and a part-time student, let me remember that I'm writing thousands of words a week.  For my New Testament class, each weekly assignment clocks in at over 1,000 words, and that's just one class.  I'm writing a similar amount for Hebrew Bible and I'm writing 300-500 words each week for my Religion and the Arts class.  And some of it might be useful in other contexts--but the larger importance is that it keeps my writing muscles in use.

It's the kind of delightful life that I have to keep fighting back this fear that I might be punished later.  But what kind of punishment do I fear? Will I regret this time of not optimizing my earning potential?  I doubt it.

Let me remember the many delights of this time.  

Travel, School, Life: The Same and Yet Different

Here I sit in Williamsburg where my parents live, working on my computer, after a plane trip yesterday.  Once that sentence would not be remarkable.  But at certain points yesterday, I shook my head at how events were both strange and familiar.

I haven't taken a plane trip in 2 years.  In some ways, not much is different, although yesterday it seemed like more people were in the Ft. Lauderdale and Atlanta airports.  Yesterday, as I waited in the very long security line at 4 a.m., I laughed at the Kristin who thought the airport would be deserted at that very early morning hour.  Lots of people were returning from cruises, to judge from conversations I overheard, including lots of college students.  What a different spring break life I had as a student, back when dinosaurs roamed the earth, and I was happy to return home to my own bed and my bread baking equipment.

A major difference, of course, is the masks we all wore, some of us more correctly than others.  I was happily surprised that most people had something around their faces on the plane and in the airport once we got past the security line.  In the security line, all bets were off.  I thought of the crowds on Monday night as we walked to a restaurant and how I worried I might have been exposed to disease that I would bring to my parents.  Monday was the least of my worries as it turns out.  But I still felt relatively safe during yesterday's travel which may say more about my faith in vaccines, booster shots, and my own mask than it says about the accuracy of my safe feelings.

Although the flights and the airports were packed, yesterday's airplane experience was fairly easy.  There was a moment when we landed in Atlanta, where the full moon was setting and the fog was intensifying.  In some ways, it felt like we had landed on an alien planet, as the plane rumbled into the parking spot.  I thought I might end up stuck in Atlanta until the sun burned off the fog, but my layover was several hours, so it wasn't a problem.

I was traveling alone, so I used the time to get lost in a book, Jonathan Franzen's latest, Crossroads.  I understand all the reasons why people don't like him, but he knows how to spin a compelling story, and this one has the best elements of The Corrections, a book which thrilled me.  I'm not done yet, but I'm happy to be reading it.

The Richmond airport was comparatively empty, which was a relief, and I had no trouble getting my bag and hopping into my parents' car.  And then we were off, back to Williamsburg.  If I hadn't known that the temperature outside was in the 50's, I'd have thought that a snowstorm was blowing in.  Even with dark clouds, the rain held off.

We relaxed for a bit, made dinner, and then I was off--back to my parents' study, where I logged on to my seminary class.  What an amazing world we live in!

This morning, I'm thinking back to the last time that I was here, in January of 2019, and my plan was to return several times a year in a more concerted effort to see my parents more often while they are still in the healthy part of old age.  While I've always been aware of apocalyptic possibilities, I would not have anticipated a global pandemic disrupting my plans, along with all the plans of all of us.  Sigh.

And now we're looking at a variety of possible plan interruptions:  a new variation of this virus, a brutal invasion of Ukraine, chief among them. And then there's my own individual disrupters:  job loss, house sale, S. Florida becoming increasingly unaffordable.

Earlier this week, I woke up feeling a bit panicked about money--my last paycheck from my old job was March 15.  But I'm trying not to linger long in that panic.  Similarly, as I walked through the Richmond airport, I thought, we should have moved years ago--but we don't have a time machine to go back, so that line of thinking isn't useful.

There are days when I worry that I'm diving off a dangerous precipice by pursuing my seminary dreams.  But then I go to class, and I am so thrilled to have this opportunity.  I choose to see that through an Ignatian lens:  seminary is a space of consolation, and worrying about money while I have house sale profits in the bank is a space of desolation. 

Let me continue to move towards consolation.

Dream Jobs in a Different Category

 A few days ago, I saw a job posting for Dean of Chapel at Berea College, and I can't stop thinking about it.  I won't apply because I'm not qualified.  It requires an MDiv degree, "Traditional ministerial/chaplaincy credentials (ordination, etc.)," and 10 years of chaplaincy experience.  I do have teaching and higher ed administration experience, which some candidates might not have, but that's not enough to make up for not having the MDiv degree and ordination.

Although I did cherish my time in campus ministry as a college student, I haven't really thought of myself as the best candidate for campus student ministry, so why am I intrigued by this posting?  It might be these parts of the job:

"Provides leadership in the planning of ecumenical worship, convocations, and other special services

Builds relationships with religious professionals assigned to the campus (Intervarsity, FCA, Newman Club, etc.), and together with the President, serves as liaison with local pastors and churches

Regularly offers sermons/homilies/messages during weekly noon worship services and other events on and off-campus

Oversees the daily administration of the Center and its programs, and provides supervision, support and guidance to CCC staff members in their specific roles and areas of focus

Teaches 1-2 courses a year in the area of academic expertise and/or General Studies"

Or is the appeal of this job the fact that it's at Berea College?  I have always found that college so inspiring.  It would be so great to be part of a school like that.

As I think about my trajectory over the past 10-15 years, I remember the times that I wished that I was teaching at a school with a religious focus, so that I could talk about some aspects of faith and literature and regular life without feeling like I need to censor myself.  So it makes sense that this job would appeal.

I also like the idea of developing special kinds of opportunities for students, the kinds of stuff I would do for retreats.  In the pre-pandemic times, that was one of my favorite parts of my job, creating decorate a pumpkin tables and a vision board drop in station.

In some ways, it's a moot point, so you might wonder why I am writing about this at all.  I want to remember the wide range of jobs that are out there.  I often get fixated on a certain type of job, and I forget that there could be other possibilities.

More Ways to Frame the Ignatian Questions

 I've been repurposing an old sketchbook.  I had used it for sketching at work, but lately, I haven't been doing much of that.  So, I'm using the rest of the pages to sketch wherever I am.  

I leafed through the older pages.  I had taken some notes during the June intensive for my spiritual direction certificate program.  One of the sessions covered Ignatian discernment.  The presenter conceded that the process of Ignatian discernment can be a bit either/or.  Consolation or Desolation?  Closer to God or further away.

The presenter suggested we look for questions that will lead us to a Both/And frame of mind:

Does this lead us deeper into love?  This question gets us away from the happiness trap of consolation/desolation.  Happiness is a smokescreen, as is the good/bad dichotomy, for all the reasons we likely already know.

I also liked this question:  Is this bringing me life?  It's akin to this question, but takes us a bit deeper than this one:  Is this bringing me joy?

And here's another way of asking that can lead us to Ignatian discernment:

Does peace abide?

First Meeting with Seminary Faculty Advisor

Yesterday I had my first meeting as a seminary student with my faculty advisor.  Before the meeting, I was happy to discover that I had been assigned to the director of the Theology and the Arts track, who is also the director of the Luce Center for Theology and the Arts, which sounds like one of my dream jobs.

Our meeting didn't last long, but it was wonderful.  It was a meeting where we were supposed to talk about my progress and my form that I filled out, the form that mapped out my future semesters and which course I would take.  My advisor and I agreed that it's really tough to make that plan right now.  There are so many questions.  Where will we be in the course of this disease?  Will there be courses on campus?  Will there be on-campus housing?  Will I still be employed?

I said, "Part of me thinks that this may be my last full-time job with health insurance, so maybe I shouldn't give it up."  My advisor told me that his wife is an Episcopalian priest who has just taken a job in Maine, and that's given them a chance to compare health insurance plans.  We talked a bit about what we might all accomplish if we didn't have to consider basic health care/health insurance and how we would provide for it.

My plan for the near future, next semester, is to take the second half of the classes that I'm taking now.  They're basic classes, the building blocks for future classes, and happily, they are ones that work well online.  My advisor finds himself wrestling with that question of which classes really need to be in person and which ones can be adapted.

As we closed, my advisor reminded me that he's there to be an advocate for me, if there's ever anything for which I need that kind of support.  Or that if I'm ever confused about requirements, I should come to him.  I said that I'd keep in touch with him by way of e-mail to let him know that I was making progress.  He smiled and said, "You gotta love mature students.  They understand the benefits of staying in touch."

I also realize how lucky I am, that I've always had advisors who wanted the best for me, without any of the creepiness that can develop.  And I feel lucky now, with my current advisor.  At a later point, I'll have more questions that I'll need help with.

And perhaps I'll continue to have the kinds of questions that are more on me to decide.  How fast should I be progressing?  Do I move to DC full time or think about the hybrid options?  I like the idea of reporting to campus for long week-ends periodically, but my heart really yearns to be part of the seminary community.  Of course, at this point, the seminary community isn't what it was before, with more of us feeling safer about online classes.  

So yes, I have lots of the sorts of questions that cannot be answered right now.  I am learning to live with the mystery, to live with the knowledge that has always been true, but in pre-Covid times, many of us could pretend otherwise.  Our lives will have all sorts of twists and turns, and while we can have long-term plans and goals, they are likely to be upended, and we'll have to pivot.

And for most of us, there are all sorts of ways to pivot, if we remain nimble and open to the possibilities.

The Milkweed Meadow of Our Lives

I have often joked, "I don't have children or pets; I can't even keep a houseplant alive."  For years, I thought this statement was true, that my spouse had a green thumb, but not me.  But over the past few years, I've kept many plants alive.

I began to change my thinking with the butterfly garden that I created for my college--over 20 potted plants on a second floor, rooftop parking garage area.  I kept those plants alive, and we got to see caterpillars and their journeys to become butterflies.

In July of 2020, my colleagues gave me an orchid for my birthday.  That orchid has remained in bloom.  I've never heard of an orchid--or any plant--doing that.  I've had a few other orchids that I killed because of bad advice.  I was told they don't need much water, just an ice cube here or there.  Those poor orchids died.  With this orchid, I give it some water once a week, plus the dregs of my tea cup here and there.  It's thriving.

One of our colleagues left some plants behind when she was let go, and I moved them into my office when I found them withered.  I thought I was doing some plant hospice work, but nine months later, they're thriving too.

One of the things I will miss about having a house is the chance to garden, to see a slice of nature each day, and to watch the changes.  But we do have a deep balcony.

Last week-end my spouse moved some of our larger milkweed over--a great gift for our anniversary.  We didn't see any caterpillars, but a week later, we had at least 5.  Did we have eggs already on the plants?  Were there tiny caterpillars that we didn't see?

They have eaten all the milkweed, and we have had our conversations about whether or not to get more.  I have thought of all those desperate people in Afghanistan, waiting for rescue.  I have moved a few more plants from the old house to here.  I've thought about buying more.

My spouse thinks about the situation the way a traffic planner might:  if we build more highways, more people will drive.  In short, we'll never solve this issue.  My brain agrees, but my emotional core wants to fill the balcony with milkweed, and then my brain reminds us that we will still run out at some point.

We have our first chrysalis, so it will be interesting to see what happens.  At the school garden, we had no attacks by lizards, snakes, or birds, although the occasional chrysalis was consumed by ants.  Up here, the process should have no predators.

We await on the larger question:  will monarchs find us on the 6th floor?  When the milkweed grows back, will monarchs come to lay their eggs?

This process seems like much of my life right now.  We make decisions based on the best information we have right now.  We pray for guidance and drive carefully by the light of a full moon and a broken headlight.  We think back to times of consolation and desolation, those wonderful Ignatian descriptors for being on the right path and being astray.

I am trying to hard to trust the consolation--both in terms of butterfly gardens and in terms of the larger milkweed meadow of my life.

When the Wait List Turns into a Seat

It feels like a very long time ago that I signed up for seminary classes.  I put myself on the waitlist for the first half of the church history class.  Week after week went by, and the wait list didn't seem to change.  In the meantime, I had been thinking that maybe doing 4 classes was too ambitious anyway.

And then, yesterday, I discovered that I now have a seat in the class.  What to do?

The obvious answer:  buy the books and get ready for the class.  Why did I put myself on the waitlist if I wasn't planning on taking the class?

When I first signed up for classes, I wasn't sure that my job would last very deep into the fall.  In fact, I thought that I might be let go in early September once we moved all the labs over to the Ft. Lauderdale campus.  I put myself on the wait list knowing that if I ended up unemployed, I'd be happy that I had given myself the possibility of an extra class. 

Fast forward to now, and it's clear we won't be at the Ft. Lauderdale campus in the next few weeks.  The Vet Tech program has specific lab requirements.  The school can't just plunk them into an abandoned surgical tech lab space.

Still, I might be able to handle the additional class.  My school observes Jewish holidays, and we've got a lot of them in September.  I could be focused and get a lot of the heavier reading done in September.

My online orientation to seminary class seemed to say that the classes will open in Blackboard 2 weeks before classes start--2 weeks is Monday.  Hopefully, I can look at all the classes and get a sense for the work load:  the reading schedule, the assignments, and the due dates.  I know that I have until week 2 of classes to withdraw and not be charged.

For so much of summer, I felt like I was in a holding pattern.  And now, suddenly, the pace has shifted.  I have some decisions to make, but there's still time--not as much time as there once was, but there is time.

Let me also remember to pray.  I hear the words of my spiritual director:  "How are you praying about that?"  And often, to my chagrin, I realize that I am not praying about it at all.  Let me also ask God to help and guide me.

Sixteenth Visit to the Spiritual Director

This time, I tried something different:  an 11:00 a.m. appointment.  From the point of view of traffic, it was better.  I didn't shave much time off my trip, but it wasn't as stressful with fewer cars on the road. 

The last time I went to my spiritual director, it was exactly 2 months ago.  Amazing to think about what all has happened since then:  I've registered for my seminary classes and gotten approval from the Candidacy Committee.  But I was surprised to think about the development which seems like the largest in many ways.

We spent time talking about the decision to sell our house and the condo that we've found to rent.  Why does this decision feel bigger than the seminary decisions?  I was already on a path to seminary.  But the last time I met with her, my spouse was deeply conflicted about what to do in terms of housing.  We talked about all sorts of options, like renting out the cottage or moving into the cottage and renting out the larger house.  There are many days when I'm surprised by how we are both on board now with selling and moving.  In April, I would not have foreseen that we could get to this point, or at least not by July.

The house is not on the market just yet.  We've both been feeling overwhelmed, so we are focusing on the move first and then we'll spruce the house up a bit and put the sign in the yard--fingers crossed that we're one of those stories of the house selling in one week.

I still feel an odd mixture of emotions when it comes to the house, a bit of guilt, a bit of shame, a bit of sadness, a readyness to move on and a bit of guilt about feeling that way.  But today, sitting with my spiritual director, I framed it differently:  I'm ready for someone else to have this house, someone who might have the time, energy, and resources to help it realize its full potential.

At the end of the session, I asked my spiritual director if we should keep meeting.  I wanted to give her the option of moving on.  I don't know why I worry that she's getting tired of me, but that is a worry of mine.  I sometimes hear myself going over ground that we've discussed in prior sessions, and it irritates me--why haven't I improved yet?  

Happily, she doesn't seem to feel the same way about me.  We've decided to keep meeting, even though our last 10 minutes were spent with her congratulating me for making progress in controlling my control freak self--she used much nicer language, of course, talking about my willingness to be open to possibilities and to see where paths might take me.

Neither one of us used this language that comes to me now:  I'm not rushing the Holy Spirit.  May I continue to be able to live in this reality.

The Loops of Time

It has been a strange week-end.  My week-end really began with my interview with the Candidacy Committee on Friday at 3:30 (for more on that experience, see this blog post).  The interview itself only lasted 45 minutes, and then there was the waiting for the results, and the short final session where I got the positive results.  I was on my way home by 5:00 p.m., feeling like the world had shifted a bit, but all those other people in their cars had no idea.

On Saturday, I sorted, sorted, sorted.  For years, I had resisted looking at my boxes of memorabilia, but last week-end, after seeing how many photos I held onto for reasons that are beyond me now, I decided it was time to tackle the memorabilia.  In my younger years, I kept an assortment of notes, cards, receipts, all sorts of memorabilia, in shoe boxes.  

It was interesting to take a quick look through the notes and cards, to think about the people with whom I am still in contact, the people I've lost to the ages, and the ways that Facebook helped some of us find each other again.  It was interesting to come across a stash of letters, agendas, retreat worship services, and publicity from my Lutheran Student Movement days in undergraduate school.

While the shoe boxes were loosely organized by years, I didn't put them in the larger box in any organized way, so I looked through my memorabilia in ways that were out of order:  here's the stuff that 9 year old Kristin wrote and kept, here's the stuff from undergraduate school, here's a bit from early married life, and now we're back to high school; here and there is a random picture, young parents with a baby, and I know that the baby is grown now.  I look up, the sun is setting, and some part of me can't comprehend what year it is, or how the concept of linear time even makes sense at all.

Yesterday at church, the choir sang "Here I am Lord" as Gathering Music.  I have always loved this song, with its lyric of God calling in the night, and being willing to be called.  I first heard/sung it at a Lutheran Student Movement gathering in 1984 or so, and we continued to sing it long before it showed up in our Lutheran hymn books.

That song always makes me think about our ideas of what it means to be called, how we interpret that out in the world (and now, I will always think about answering that question for the Candidacy Committee).  I thought about all the people I have known who have experienced a call from God differently than I have--off they went to seminary, right after undergraduate school, convinced that serving in a parish was what God needed them to do.  I thought of all the people who are finally finding/taking time to go back to school at midlife, and how many of us are headed to seminary, not other types of school.

I thought back to our Lutheran Student Movement days, when some of us were convinced that the churches of our childhood had value, and others of us wished that church could be more like our LSM groups.  I still wish that, and I am glad about the changes that have come to the churches of my childhood.  When my fellow college students were discerning our calls, Lutheran churches had only grudgingly begun to allow women's ordination, but the path to a pastorate was difficult.  One of my female friends went to a Baptist seminary in 1987, only to be told midway through that women would no longer be ordained.

I'm not sure that the situation has changed for Southern Baptists, but for many other Christians, the churches that existed in the mid-1980's are very different now.  It will be even more interesting to see what the coming decades bring, and how we'll answer those calls.