This week's RevGalBlogPals Friday Five centers on big plans for the upcoming summer season:
1) What home fix-it project is on your Big To-Do?
Well, the big biggie is fixing up Fellow Traveler's new stained glass studio in our front garage. This garage has been a catch-all for some time, including the flotsam and jetsam from Fellow Traveler's former home and mine. A couple of weeks ago we got serious about sorting through it all and either integrating it into our home, selling it at our garage sale or tossing it. So we have some brand new space perfect for crafting, but we have to paint the long main worktable, fix some plumbing, come up with a storage plan for supplies and spruce up the small office space attached to the building.
2) What event (fun or work) is on your Big To-Do?
I have to do double-time on my class, which is very easy to set aside for other intervening life events. And for the next two months I'm in rotation for office hours one day ata church.
3) What trip is on your Big To-Do?
We are reprising our first vacation in the Upper Peninsula. (Famously postponed for several days until Fellow Traveler could pass a troublesome kidney stone...we definitely do not wan to reprise that.) We want to visit the Wooden Boat Show in Hessel again -- Hessel and the Les Cheneaux Islands are a very pleasant destination -- and maybe strike out in a new direction.
4) What do you wish was on someone ELSE's (partner, family member, celebrity, etc...) Big To-Do?
Grading local gravel roads, definitely...we were exploring the county one evening when we hit a real washboard road, and poor Gertie wound up trembling in my lap.
5) Getting inspired? What may end this summer having moved from the Big To-Do to the Big Ta-da? Of course the glass studio; and an estbalished vegetable garden; and, if I can fit it in, the rock garden we've wanted to put in the back yard. We have the rocks...we just need to re-do the plantings.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
A Vaycay Friday FIve
Today I happen to be working -- we are in the middle of Home Consolidation Garage Sale Day One -- but here's a picture of me several vacays ago outside Margaritaville in Orlando; an appropriate photo, I thought, for this week's RevGalBlogPals Friday Five:1) What did your family do for vacations when you were a child? Or did you have stay-cations at home?
We never, ever went on a vacation when I was growing up. We didn't even have stay-cations. We made hay during my dad's weeks off; not exactly festive, although my mom did make remarkable meals when the neighborhood teenagers or my great-uncles came to help out.
2) Tell us about your favorite vacation ever:
That's hard to say because we have enjoyed them all in their own way. Fellow Traveler's and my first "away" vacation, in the Upper Peninsula, was a lot of fun -- we still had getting-to-know-you jitters on this milestone event, but we still had a splendid time; even though we wound up waking up in the middle of the night to take Cody the Maltese on constitutionals throughout uptown St. Ignace. Romance, thy name is peeing dog in the moonlight. (And seriously, for persons interested in the UP, we highly recommend the Hessel/Les Cheneaux Islands area -- it's a beautiful place, and their vintage wooden boat show at the beginning of August is great fun -- and Taquamenon Falls; if you ignore the annoying, touristy tourists (which we, of course, are not) you will see some awesome nature.)
3) What do you do for a one-day or afternoon getaway...is there a place nearby that you escape to on a Saturday afternoon/other day off?
It depends on the season and how much time we have. If we can't get away for an entire day, we enjoy our county recreational area, formerly a private hunting club -- a sadly underused property that has a nice picnic area, hiking trails and a river with a scenic deck. In the fall we like to look for apples either at local orchards or growing wild along fence lines. We also like driving around our local Amish neighborhoods. Our day trips have ranged as far as Cadillac and Benzie County to the north and Ann Arbor to the south.
4) What's your best recommendation for a full-on vacation near you...what would you suggest to someone coming to your area? (Near - may be defined any way you wish!)
Okay. Then I'm going to define "near" as "between Midland and Mackinaw City, and invite all Michigan-curious readers to a quality vacation in the Benzie-Leelanau County area of the state -- in and around the "little finger" of our state mitten. Foodies will enjoy following the Leelanau Peninsula wine trail, fine dining in some lovely local restaurants (we enjoy Trattoria Funistrada on Glen Lake, and right down the road is La Becasse, another well-regarded establishment) and finding local produce stands and artisan foodcrafters of various kinds. Kayakers, boaters, bikers and hikers can enjoy three seasons of adventure, while skiers and snowshoers also have plenty of options in the area. If arts and crafts are your thing, the Leelanau and surrounds are home to many creative folks specializing in everything from fine art to soapmaking. History buffs can enjoy places like the ghost town of Glen Haven and the Port Oneida Historical District, a series of 19th century farmsteads being preserved and restored by the National Park Service and local volunteers. Lighthouse lovers can find places to visit all along the shoreline. Our favorite place to stay when we're up north is the Sleeping Bear Bed and Breakfast between Empire and Traverse City, which has lodged and fed us admirably (one of the innkeepers is a professional chef with French credentials) for an affordable rate, and which provides a handy Mission Central for sightseeing in all directions.
5) What's your DREAM VACATION?
I haven't been on it yet, but I have been promised good times in Vermont and in the Maritime Provinces, especially Prince Edward Island. We were headed there this fall, but the arrival of G-baby in November has us headed to the Big Apple instead.
Hope you all have a great, relaxing/refreshing Memorial Day weekend. Meanwhile...the customer always comes first so...gotta go!
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
LC's Adventures in Ecumenicism Continue
It's been a busy week here, as we continue to condense our two homes into one. We've been cleaning out packing boxes, closets, cupboards -- getting serious about things we want, things we need and things we need to give to someone else.
The other morning we stopped at the local mission to unload a couple bags of clothes. This mission is run by a highly exciteable self-identified "sister" of unknown denominational affiliation who's notorious for her frequent right-wing, homophobic rants in the local newspaper. We normally eschew this mission for the larger and more professionally run mission connected to our local Roman Catholic parish, but on this particular day we wanted to quickly unload our baggage, so we drove around the corner to The Sister's place. I volunteered to walk into the place and engage with the staff, and steeled myself in preparation to meet The Sister and her church-lady volunteers.
As I stepped through the service entrance, my foot met air -- I hadn't noticed the drop-off -- and literally fell into the midst of several older women sorting through a tableful of clothing.
"LutheranChik! Are you all right?" The voice was familiar. I looked up to find an ex-coworker of mine -- a similarly scarred veteran of my former place of employment.
After we determined that I was uninjured from my mosh-pit dive into the back room, we got to talking about what we'd been doing for the past few years. My friend had heard that I'd been involved in lay ministry training, so I talked to her about some of the things I've been doing at our church.
"Might you be interested in leading worship at another church sometime?" my friend asked. It seems her own Church of the Brethren congregation was between pastors, and her husband had been tasked with finding supply preachers for the summer.
Now, keep in mind that, prior to my grand entrance, I was crabby and defensive and determined to spend a minimum amount of time dealing with anyone in that place. Also keep in mind that Lutherans and members of the historic peace churches have had a difficult and occasionally violent relationship over the years.
I came out of the building grinning. FT, who'd been waiting in the car, shook her head. "I heard you laughing in there. Don't tell me you met someone else you know?" FT is always amazed at my ability to run into people I know, no matter where we travel. So I told her the whole story. She thought it was great. So did our pastor, this past Sunday, when I asked him if it would be okay to do a little ecclesiastical cross-pollination.
This might be fun.
The other morning we stopped at the local mission to unload a couple bags of clothes. This mission is run by a highly exciteable self-identified "sister" of unknown denominational affiliation who's notorious for her frequent right-wing, homophobic rants in the local newspaper. We normally eschew this mission for the larger and more professionally run mission connected to our local Roman Catholic parish, but on this particular day we wanted to quickly unload our baggage, so we drove around the corner to The Sister's place. I volunteered to walk into the place and engage with the staff, and steeled myself in preparation to meet The Sister and her church-lady volunteers.
As I stepped through the service entrance, my foot met air -- I hadn't noticed the drop-off -- and literally fell into the midst of several older women sorting through a tableful of clothing.
"LutheranChik! Are you all right?" The voice was familiar. I looked up to find an ex-coworker of mine -- a similarly scarred veteran of my former place of employment.
After we determined that I was uninjured from my mosh-pit dive into the back room, we got to talking about what we'd been doing for the past few years. My friend had heard that I'd been involved in lay ministry training, so I talked to her about some of the things I've been doing at our church.
"Might you be interested in leading worship at another church sometime?" my friend asked. It seems her own Church of the Brethren congregation was between pastors, and her husband had been tasked with finding supply preachers for the summer.
Now, keep in mind that, prior to my grand entrance, I was crabby and defensive and determined to spend a minimum amount of time dealing with anyone in that place. Also keep in mind that Lutherans and members of the historic peace churches have had a difficult and occasionally violent relationship over the years.
I came out of the building grinning. FT, who'd been waiting in the car, shook her head. "I heard you laughing in there. Don't tell me you met someone else you know?" FT is always amazed at my ability to run into people I know, no matter where we travel. So I told her the whole story. She thought it was great. So did our pastor, this past Sunday, when I asked him if it would be okay to do a little ecclesiastical cross-pollination.
This might be fun.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Friday Five: "Friends" Edition
From the RevGalBlogPals' Friday Five post:Ever since I found out I could be the hostess for the third Friday Five of each month, I have not been able to get the thought of friends out of my mind. Being an only child (all growed up) who moved around a lot in my lifetime, friends have always been very important to me. As Ralph Waldo Emerson once wrote: "The way to have a friend is to be a friend."
So today let's write about the different kinds of friends we have, like childhood friends, lost friends, tennis friends, work friends, and the list goes on. List 5 different types of friends you have had in your life and what they were/are like.
As a bonus, put a link to a new (to you) blogging friend and introduce us!
1. School friends. Sadly, I've lost contact with nearly all my college friends, but I do maintain contact with some of my high school pals, either running into them here in greater Outer Podunk or through the virtual-reunion magic of Facebook. I have gone to one high school reunion, which was quite interesting because almost none of my old posse were present -- I wound up socializing with people who weren't in my inner circle back in the day. And I had fun with them.
If I could meet up with my college friends, I'd definitely want them to be the gang from Martin Luther Chapel and University Lutheran Church. Good times.
2. Church friends. This is a pretty diverse group encompassing everyone from li'l kids to our 90-year-old church matriarch to the folks from my LMTP program. Because our faith is very often our only commonality, this is the most challenging bunch of peeps in my interconnecting circles of friends.
3. Blog friends. I've certainly made some terrific friends through this medium. (A fact that I wish would spur my creative impulses here.) I'm always in awe of the writing ability and the insight of my blogfriends; it keeps me humble, as well as connected.
4. Animal friends. I can't forget my animal buddies, past and present. Actually, as I type, Mollie the cat is curled up above my head on the top of the sofa, while Gertie -- who just lost her tennis ball -- is standing at her toy box, looking up at me as if to say, "Well...are you going to help me find it?"
5. Facebook friends. This is an interesting intersect of the above groups (well...with the exception of my animal friends, who so far haven't friended me on Facebook, although Gertie is regularly read reports of other friends' pets).
I haven't been blog-surfing lately, so for my bonus points I'll add a new category of friend: The marketplace friend. We tend to make friends -- not social friends, but recognize/smile/wave friends -- with a lot of people selling goods and services around here: Yard Guys, Lamb Lady, Angie at the Coop, Mrs. Mast and Mrs. Gingerich in the Amish community, the Brass Cafe owner and head chef, Tony of Tony's Tacos...I could go on and on. We're loyal customers when businesspeople do a good job for us; we're friendly; we give affirmation and occasionally constructive criticism. We truly enjoy interacting with these people.
Saturday, May 09, 2009
You've Got Mail
Both Fellow Traveler and I spend a good part of our day -- often too much time -- at our laptops. This ia often frustrating to Gertie, who just can't understand what's so darn interesting about this machine.
About a month ago she started pushing onto our laps, putting her chin on the keyboard, looking at the screen. So we started saying, "Gertie, would you like us to read your your e-mail?" and either reading whatever is on the screen or just making stuff up.
Gertie loves this. It's now a daily ritual.
Anything you want to say to Gertie?
About a month ago she started pushing onto our laps, putting her chin on the keyboard, looking at the screen. So we started saying, "Gertie, would you like us to read your your e-mail?" and either reading whatever is on the screen or just making stuff up.
Gertie loves this. It's now a daily ritual.
Anything you want to say to Gertie?
Friday, May 08, 2009
A Grave Situation
As I've blogged about before, one of Gertie's favorite pastimes is running steeplechase over headstones in cemeteries, so we regularly take her around to the local abodes of the dead for some R&R. Of course, we don't stop at cemeteries where observances are taking place.
Today while I was lunching with a friend from my lay ministry training days, Fellow Traveler took Gertie to what's become her favorite cemetery, a three-sectioned area with hills and valleys and over a century's worth of headstones to hop over or careen around. Usually Gertie will stay within sight...but on this particular day she sped down the driveway and disappeared.
Fellow Traveler called...no Gertie. So FT walked up and down the hilly graveyard, searching for her: "Gertie! Gertie, come!"
FT finally found Gertie. Sitting at the edge of a new grave, in the midst of mourners and clergy, gazing solemnly into the hole.
"At least she wore black," I noted.
Today while I was lunching with a friend from my lay ministry training days, Fellow Traveler took Gertie to what's become her favorite cemetery, a three-sectioned area with hills and valleys and over a century's worth of headstones to hop over or careen around. Usually Gertie will stay within sight...but on this particular day she sped down the driveway and disappeared.
Fellow Traveler called...no Gertie. So FT walked up and down the hilly graveyard, searching for her: "Gertie! Gertie, come!"
FT finally found Gertie. Sitting at the edge of a new grave, in the midst of mourners and clergy, gazing solemnly into the hole.
"At least she wore black," I noted.
A Buggy Friday Five
RevGal Sophia writes:
As I was walking the beach today, I was surprised and delighted to find it swarming with ladybugs. The sweet little red beetles are one of my favorite insects and also my daughter's blogname--though as of this morning she was thinking of changing it to Butterfly. I'll keep you posted.
This got me thinking about spiritual insect trivia: Did you know that medieval mystics and theologians esteemed the bee for its dedicated work and transformation of ordinary ingredients into sweetness? That Spider Woman is an important creator Goddess to many Native American tribes? Or that Francis of Assisi was reminded of Jesus not only by lambs being led to slaughter, but also by worms (think "I am a worm and no man" from the Psalms)-- so he picked them up and took them out of stomping-vulnerable spots?!
In that spirit, this week's Friday Five is a magical mystery tour through God's garden of creepy crawlies!
1. Ladybugs or ladybirds? Pillbugs or roly-polys? Jesus bugs or water skeeters? Any other interesting regional or familial name variations?
Ladybugs; pillbugs; water skeeters; and of course the bane of northern climes, especially in coastal areas, the annoying little no-see-ums that fly up your nose and onto your eyeballs in the late spring.
2. Stomp on spiders, carry them outside, or peacefully co-exist?
I am in the carry-them-outside school. Fellow Traveler is in the "stomp first, ask questions later" school.
3. Favorite insect?
I think honeybees are my favorite -- they are so important to our environment, and they're so fascinating to watch. (Ever seen one do the "honeybee dance" to let her sisters know where the flowers are? I have...very cool.) I'd challenge my fellow gardeners reading this to grow more bee-friendly plants in their yards and gardens, to help our beleagured bee populations.
4. Least favorite?
It's a tossup between dirty, disease-bearing, disgusting cockroaches -- which have no redeeming qualities that I can think of -- and deerflies, which are a terrible, painful nuisance around here in mid-summer, and which can also act as vectors for blood-borne disease. Fortunately for me, cockroaches are relatively rare here in outstate Michigan except for scattered concentrations of human beings in apartments, dormitories and such. But I invariably get bitten by deerflies; I even have a scar on my upper arm from one such bite that somehow got infected and left an ugly souvenir.
5. Got any good bug stories to share?
Our Miss Gertie, who has become something of a precocious only child in the absence of her late dog-sister Cassie, loves to watch bugs. She'll sit under the maple tree next to our patio and intently watch the ants scurrying around underneath. My parents' old poodle mix Mitzi also loved ants; one day I saw her watching them on the sidewalk and wagging her tail: Hello, little buddies!
Bonus: One of my favorite bug books: Hope For the Flowers.
Friday, May 01, 2009
Friday Five: Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!
A very thoughtful Friday Five this May Day, touching on ritual as a part of our faith experience:
1. Are ritual markings of birth, marriage and death important to you?
They are, which is why I'm sad that they're so diminished/devalued these days in the popular culture. And I think excessive, over-the-top extravagance and personal indulgence of bad taste (either in an attempt to be hip and ironic or because one doesn't know any better) is a kind of devaluement. I'm sorry, but people who take marriage seriously as a celebration of a sacred bond of love and respect don't get married by Jumpsuit Elvis in a drive-through chapel in Vegas. Yes, I'm a mean stick-in-the-mud with no sense of humor...on this topic. As stepmother to 30-somethings, I sometimes mourn the aridity of that generation's ritual life -- of their sense of the Sacred touching the touchstones of the seasons and of our human lives.
2. Share a favourite liturgy/ practice.
I get a lot out of praying the Daily Office, even in a thinky, non-full-body way sitting at my laptop. When I take my turn having an office day at church, I think that I am going to take my show on the road and use the sanctuary for this purpose. If anyone happens to be there and wants to join me -- all the better.
3. If you could invent ( or have invented) a ritual what is it for?
I'm not sure that there isn't already a ritual for any event or condition I can think of. But right now, sitting here, I'm thinking that we need more rituals related to people's employment, since so much of our time and attention is invested in our work. I think retirement is a tough transition for people, even those who've longed for it for years; it might be an interesting exercise to create a spiritual ritual launching a new retiree into a new life of possibility.
4. What do you think of making connections with neo-pagan / ancient festivals? Have you done this and how?
As some long-time readers know, once upon a time I was what I'd call an agnostipagan. I have a fondness for celebrations that, like May Day, have their roots in the pre-Christian festivals of Europe, just as I have my ethnic roots in that place. So I have very little patience with Christians who feel compelled to eradicate everything that may even have a hint of pre-Christian spirituality from Christian practice or the Christian calendar; because that isn't authentically who I am, or who they are either. On the other hand, I think it's possible to overly romanticize our pagan past -- my German ancestors may have had some quaint, evocative ritual celebrations of various kinds, but they also did things like strangle and drown sacrificial victims in sacred lakes as gifts to their deities to help keep the crops growing. Overall, though, I'm more alarmed by the pagan values implicit in the recent Pew study finding that self-identifying devout American Christians seem to be more tolerant of government-sponsored torture than the population at large than I am about Christians wanting to celebrate springtime and harvest and the circle of the year.
To me a real weakness in the Church calendar is its disassociation from the cycle of the seasons; I'd like to see more ritual affirmation of the created world as a good gift of God in our worship year, even if it makes the neo-Gnostics and neo-Puritans nervous.
5. Celebrating is important, what and where would your ideal celebration be?
I like celebrations outside, and I like them to involve food, friends and fellowship. Pick a reason to celebrate!
1. Are ritual markings of birth, marriage and death important to you?
They are, which is why I'm sad that they're so diminished/devalued these days in the popular culture. And I think excessive, over-the-top extravagance and personal indulgence of bad taste (either in an attempt to be hip and ironic or because one doesn't know any better) is a kind of devaluement. I'm sorry, but people who take marriage seriously as a celebration of a sacred bond of love and respect don't get married by Jumpsuit Elvis in a drive-through chapel in Vegas. Yes, I'm a mean stick-in-the-mud with no sense of humor...on this topic. As stepmother to 30-somethings, I sometimes mourn the aridity of that generation's ritual life -- of their sense of the Sacred touching the touchstones of the seasons and of our human lives.
2. Share a favourite liturgy/ practice.
I get a lot out of praying the Daily Office, even in a thinky, non-full-body way sitting at my laptop. When I take my turn having an office day at church, I think that I am going to take my show on the road and use the sanctuary for this purpose. If anyone happens to be there and wants to join me -- all the better.
3. If you could invent ( or have invented) a ritual what is it for?
I'm not sure that there isn't already a ritual for any event or condition I can think of. But right now, sitting here, I'm thinking that we need more rituals related to people's employment, since so much of our time and attention is invested in our work. I think retirement is a tough transition for people, even those who've longed for it for years; it might be an interesting exercise to create a spiritual ritual launching a new retiree into a new life of possibility.
4. What do you think of making connections with neo-pagan / ancient festivals? Have you done this and how?
As some long-time readers know, once upon a time I was what I'd call an agnostipagan. I have a fondness for celebrations that, like May Day, have their roots in the pre-Christian festivals of Europe, just as I have my ethnic roots in that place. So I have very little patience with Christians who feel compelled to eradicate everything that may even have a hint of pre-Christian spirituality from Christian practice or the Christian calendar; because that isn't authentically who I am, or who they are either. On the other hand, I think it's possible to overly romanticize our pagan past -- my German ancestors may have had some quaint, evocative ritual celebrations of various kinds, but they also did things like strangle and drown sacrificial victims in sacred lakes as gifts to their deities to help keep the crops growing. Overall, though, I'm more alarmed by the pagan values implicit in the recent Pew study finding that self-identifying devout American Christians seem to be more tolerant of government-sponsored torture than the population at large than I am about Christians wanting to celebrate springtime and harvest and the circle of the year.
To me a real weakness in the Church calendar is its disassociation from the cycle of the seasons; I'd like to see more ritual affirmation of the created world as a good gift of God in our worship year, even if it makes the neo-Gnostics and neo-Puritans nervous.
5. Celebrating is important, what and where would your ideal celebration be?
I like celebrations outside, and I like them to involve food, friends and fellowship. Pick a reason to celebrate!
In the Waiting Room
As my Facebook friends know, I had a trying afternoon at the doctor's office yesterday -- I had to wait an hour past my scheduled appointment time just to get into the office, and another 20 minutes in the examining room before the doctor strolled in, sans apology. Which is grist for a whole 'nother post, about my so far fruitless search for a healthcare provider that actually provides me with useful healthcare. But anyway.
While I was stewing in the waiting room, I tried to distract myself by reading magazines. As it so happened, the only ones in my vicinity were women's magazines -- Redbook, Ladies' Home Journal and Woman's Day. I've not paid attention to any of these in years, so I thought it might be instructive to learn what's up with the popular culture these days as it relates to (presumably) straight women.
Hmmm.
First of all I found out about a kind of sanitary napkin one puts in one's pants in order to "go commando" in a hygenic fashion: "No more panty lines!" Because I guess panty lines are so horrible that going commando is a preferable state of affairs. Ecch, I thought. What is the matter with these people?
Then I moved on to a fascinating article, written by a male psychotherapist, on the perennial women's-mag topic of How To Keep Your Man. This therapist gave a number of handy hints for mind-canoodling husbands -- who, according to him, are a kind of hairy, smelly, clumsy subhuman creature less self-aware or socially skilled than the average bare-assed baboon -- into feeling loved and valued. He cited the example of a client who came to him complaining that her husband made a theatrical production out of bringing shopping bags in from the car and loading them on the dining room table, grunting and heaving as he did so. He said that, back in the caveman days, men had the job of hauling the mastodon back to the tribe; contemporary men don't have this opportunity for proving their ability to provide for their families, so women need to find ways to affirm male prowess in bringing home the bacon, the mastodon, et al -- even if it means feigning stunned admiration and gratitude as Hubs hauls in the Trader Joe's bags: "Oh, you're so strong and helpful! You're my big daddy! What would I ever do without you?" (My advice to any men reading this blog is to read your wives' magazines. You will be shocked at how badly you come off as a gender.) Oh, for God's sake, I thought. If Fellow Traveler or I ever acted that way toward one another one of us would be on the phone with Community Mental Health asking about emergency psych evaluations.
Next I found a heartwarming tale of fashionista Carson Cressley coming to the makeover aid of two large women who felt ugly and unloved Because, of course, the subtext hissed, no one wants to be with a fat cow like all you pathetic heifers reading this article...a point made clear by the fact that the dapper Mr. Cressley rated an almost-full-page color photo, while the the photos of the women in question, even in their "after" attire, were tiny thumbnails buried in the text of a subsequent page. I rolled my eyes; Yeah; that's affirming.
And then of course we had the disease-or-crime-of-the-month-hysteria articles -- how this often-ignored symptom or that bit of mishandled household hygiene, or that unknown psychopath weirdo down the street can kill you, so you'd better be very, very scared all the time. Oh, give me a break.
The recipes were not enough to redeem the crap all around them.
Speaking of which...if the magazine industry is following the rest of the print media industry down the toilet in this digital age, then please flush the women's magazines first.
While I was stewing in the waiting room, I tried to distract myself by reading magazines. As it so happened, the only ones in my vicinity were women's magazines -- Redbook, Ladies' Home Journal and Woman's Day. I've not paid attention to any of these in years, so I thought it might be instructive to learn what's up with the popular culture these days as it relates to (presumably) straight women.
Hmmm.
First of all I found out about a kind of sanitary napkin one puts in one's pants in order to "go commando" in a hygenic fashion: "No more panty lines!" Because I guess panty lines are so horrible that going commando is a preferable state of affairs. Ecch, I thought. What is the matter with these people?
Then I moved on to a fascinating article, written by a male psychotherapist, on the perennial women's-mag topic of How To Keep Your Man. This therapist gave a number of handy hints for mind-canoodling husbands -- who, according to him, are a kind of hairy, smelly, clumsy subhuman creature less self-aware or socially skilled than the average bare-assed baboon -- into feeling loved and valued. He cited the example of a client who came to him complaining that her husband made a theatrical production out of bringing shopping bags in from the car and loading them on the dining room table, grunting and heaving as he did so. He said that, back in the caveman days, men had the job of hauling the mastodon back to the tribe; contemporary men don't have this opportunity for proving their ability to provide for their families, so women need to find ways to affirm male prowess in bringing home the bacon, the mastodon, et al -- even if it means feigning stunned admiration and gratitude as Hubs hauls in the Trader Joe's bags: "Oh, you're so strong and helpful! You're my big daddy! What would I ever do without you?" (My advice to any men reading this blog is to read your wives' magazines. You will be shocked at how badly you come off as a gender.) Oh, for God's sake, I thought. If Fellow Traveler or I ever acted that way toward one another one of us would be on the phone with Community Mental Health asking about emergency psych evaluations.
Next I found a heartwarming tale of fashionista Carson Cressley coming to the makeover aid of two large women who felt ugly and unloved Because, of course, the subtext hissed, no one wants to be with a fat cow like all you pathetic heifers reading this article...a point made clear by the fact that the dapper Mr. Cressley rated an almost-full-page color photo, while the the photos of the women in question, even in their "after" attire, were tiny thumbnails buried in the text of a subsequent page. I rolled my eyes; Yeah; that's affirming.
And then of course we had the disease-or-crime-of-the-month-hysteria articles -- how this often-ignored symptom or that bit of mishandled household hygiene, or that unknown psychopath weirdo down the street can kill you, so you'd better be very, very scared all the time. Oh, give me a break.
The recipes were not enough to redeem the crap all around them.
Speaking of which...if the magazine industry is following the rest of the print media industry down the toilet in this digital age, then please flush the women's magazines first.
Marty Speaks
"Here you see that Christ's kingdom is to be concerned about the weak, the sick, the broken, that he may help them. That is, indeed, a comforting declaration. The only trouble is that we do not realize our needs and infirmities." -- Martin Luther, sermon for 2 Easter.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Lenten Project Footnote
At the beginning of Lent I wrote about how I'd undertaken the project of praying for a particular journalist/columnist whose by-turns embittered, obsessional and at times simply mean commentary is so troubling to me that, ironically, I couldn't stop reading it.
I'd love to report that this process resulted in some sort of metanoia moment in my feelings toward him. But instead I will share a prayer that serendipitously appeared today when I went to visit the Beliefnet website:
Heavenly Father, I sometimes get into relationships
that are not good for me.
Please help me better discern how I relate to
the people in my life
and give me the wisdom to know when a relationship
is not giving you glory and is harmful to me.
Bring me courage to avoid toxic relationships
and help nurture what is good and just in all things.
Okay...it's not exactly in the league of the Book of Common Prayer, but you know where the author is coming from.
The result of my little experiment is that I've lost interest in engaging with this type of individual perhaps because I've developed a more realistic sense of my ability to deal with negativity without becoming infected with it myself. The fact of the matter is...I'm not very good at it.
I recall a time in my life when I developed a taste for reading true crime stories. I don't know why; perhaps that genre appeals because the horror of violent death puts everyday anxieties into perspective, or because of the good vs. evil subtext of such books that lets us be vicarious heroes as we root for the detectives and investigators who crack the case. But after awhile I started feeling as if I were carrying around residual darkness from what I'd been reading; a dark film developing over my soul. One day I reached for a book on my nightstand, stopped midway...and said, "I don't need this in my life."
I think maybe I've come to the same conclusion with writers and bloggers who endulge in negativity, either to exorcize their own demons or because provocation keeps readers, whether fer or agin, coming back for more. They make me feel dark inside.
I'd love to report that this process resulted in some sort of metanoia moment in my feelings toward him. But instead I will share a prayer that serendipitously appeared today when I went to visit the Beliefnet website:
Heavenly Father, I sometimes get into relationships
that are not good for me.
Please help me better discern how I relate to
the people in my life
and give me the wisdom to know when a relationship
is not giving you glory and is harmful to me.
Bring me courage to avoid toxic relationships
and help nurture what is good and just in all things.
Okay...it's not exactly in the league of the Book of Common Prayer, but you know where the author is coming from.
The result of my little experiment is that I've lost interest in engaging with this type of individual perhaps because I've developed a more realistic sense of my ability to deal with negativity without becoming infected with it myself. The fact of the matter is...I'm not very good at it.
I recall a time in my life when I developed a taste for reading true crime stories. I don't know why; perhaps that genre appeals because the horror of violent death puts everyday anxieties into perspective, or because of the good vs. evil subtext of such books that lets us be vicarious heroes as we root for the detectives and investigators who crack the case. But after awhile I started feeling as if I were carrying around residual darkness from what I'd been reading; a dark film developing over my soul. One day I reached for a book on my nightstand, stopped midway...and said, "I don't need this in my life."
I think maybe I've come to the same conclusion with writers and bloggers who endulge in negativity, either to exorcize their own demons or because provocation keeps readers, whether fer or agin, coming back for more. They make me feel dark inside.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Lay Ministry 2.0
Our pastor is going on sabbatical this summer, getting some inspiration for his other, artistic vocation by traveling by motorbike around the perimeter of the U.S. to photograph and write about works of public and "outsider" art.
This means, of course, that we lay ministers will be front and center leading worship for the better part of three months, both on Sunday morning and at our midweek Evening Prayer. Even considering our fairly relaxed schedule now -- we each take turns assisting once a month, and once a month one of us preaches -- I'm ready to take on greater worship responsibility.
But we will also be increasing our presence in the parish office. At our last meeting, when we sat around discussing how best to deal with the "pastor gap" this summer, I suggested that simply being present at the church for regular office hours might help keep things running smoothly. The others agreed; and because of where we are in our lives, we're each able to take one day a week to be in the office to answer the phone and greet walk-in visitors. Obviously pastoral counseling is not a part of this equation; we will be armed with a list of referral phone numbers for the usual situations that go on in our neighborhood (usually, sadly, struggling families calling for emergency assistance). But we also told the pastor we were willing to take on more hospital and shut-in visitation ourselves.
This will be something new for me, but I think I can do it competently. I've spent enough time in hospitals and care institutions with my own family members to be fairly unrattled by the experience, and I think being one step removed personally from the situation will help. My one big qualm about the whole thing is big-city driving, which I do not in any way enjoy, and which actually causes me more anxiety than the thought of communing someone in ICU or being with a family on a difficult day. I'm hoping that requests for visitation on my watch will involve less harrowing trips to smaller hospitals that people around here tend to wind up in for their routine ailments. Or that Fellow Traveler, who enjoys urban driving, can be bribed into piloting me if necessary. ("Hey! Want to go to Whole Foods by way of U of M Hospital?") I know that attitude is not very pastorly; but on the other hand I am not a pastor.
None of this, by the way, is a paying proposition. Which is why I think the lay ministry program is such a useful program for small/underfunded churches. Our presence in our parish increases the flexibility of our ministries and our pastor's schedule tremendously. It's a good thing.
This means, of course, that we lay ministers will be front and center leading worship for the better part of three months, both on Sunday morning and at our midweek Evening Prayer. Even considering our fairly relaxed schedule now -- we each take turns assisting once a month, and once a month one of us preaches -- I'm ready to take on greater worship responsibility.
But we will also be increasing our presence in the parish office. At our last meeting, when we sat around discussing how best to deal with the "pastor gap" this summer, I suggested that simply being present at the church for regular office hours might help keep things running smoothly. The others agreed; and because of where we are in our lives, we're each able to take one day a week to be in the office to answer the phone and greet walk-in visitors. Obviously pastoral counseling is not a part of this equation; we will be armed with a list of referral phone numbers for the usual situations that go on in our neighborhood (usually, sadly, struggling families calling for emergency assistance). But we also told the pastor we were willing to take on more hospital and shut-in visitation ourselves.
This will be something new for me, but I think I can do it competently. I've spent enough time in hospitals and care institutions with my own family members to be fairly unrattled by the experience, and I think being one step removed personally from the situation will help. My one big qualm about the whole thing is big-city driving, which I do not in any way enjoy, and which actually causes me more anxiety than the thought of communing someone in ICU or being with a family on a difficult day. I'm hoping that requests for visitation on my watch will involve less harrowing trips to smaller hospitals that people around here tend to wind up in for their routine ailments. Or that Fellow Traveler, who enjoys urban driving, can be bribed into piloting me if necessary. ("Hey! Want to go to Whole Foods by way of U of M Hospital?") I know that attitude is not very pastorly; but on the other hand I am not a pastor.
None of this, by the way, is a paying proposition. Which is why I think the lay ministry program is such a useful program for small/underfunded churches. Our presence in our parish increases the flexibility of our ministries and our pastor's schedule tremendously. It's a good thing.
I Am But a Stranger Here
So it's been four months fulltime here in Castorville, down the road from my hometown of Outer Podunk. (Castorville referring to the fur-bearing rodent for whom this town is actually named -- a source of much mirth among local adolescents.)
When I was growing up we might visit Castorville on perhaps a quarterly basis. My parents had an account at the local bank here -- Dad said that our primary bank, back in Outer Podunk, didn't need to know all our family business -- so on an occasional Friday night, when the lobby was open late, we'd go do our out-of-town banking. We'd always stop at the local dime store, an establishment whose hodge-podge of tantalizing fire-sale/fallen-off-the-truck/remaindered merchandise made our venerable 5-and-10-cent store back home seem quite modest and boring in comparison. On a very rare occasion we might even get ice cream down at the ice-cream shack across from the high school, or stop at the shabby little grocery store for a local sale.
Castorville was our school's cross-county rival, so of course Castorvillians were considered backward, likely inbred, yokels whose academic credentials were as poor as their prowess in sports.
Who'd have thought that, three decades later, I'd be living here?
I make an excursion perhaps every other day to the post office, just down the street. They've cut their office hours in such a draconian way that picking up box mail is difficult even for those of us in town during the day. But the two clerks are beginning to say hello to me if I stop by the window on the way out. I visit the supermarket -- still shabby and mainly limited to basics, although every once in awhile they surprise us with exotica like portabello mushrooms or frozen quail. About once a week I visit the local farm store for some item of pet care, and to buy eggs from the owner, who raises chickens on the side.
It's feeling more like home. I'm starting to recognize faces of staff and regular shoppers. But it's still...different. People, in general, look different here than they do up in Outer Podunk. And it's interesting, this difference. Because I've certainly lived in other cities away from home. But there's a certain familiarity curve that I would achieve in a very short time in those other cities that I don't feel here.
Last night we took a trip to the local cemetery, next to the big lake in town, to let Gertie run. Walking among the gravestones, it struck me that so many of the surnames were unfamiliar to me -- unlike the cemeteries of greater Outer Podunk, where I -- much to the amusement and occasional bemusement of my partner -- can confidently point out city fathers and businesspeople of yore, my parents' old childhood neighbors and classmates who died young.
I wonder if this is because, while this is our home and we're planning on investing some years here until our mortgage is paid in full , we don't feel that this is going to be our final stop in the world; that in the words of the Catie Curtis song, we're actually "only passing through."
When I was growing up we might visit Castorville on perhaps a quarterly basis. My parents had an account at the local bank here -- Dad said that our primary bank, back in Outer Podunk, didn't need to know all our family business -- so on an occasional Friday night, when the lobby was open late, we'd go do our out-of-town banking. We'd always stop at the local dime store, an establishment whose hodge-podge of tantalizing fire-sale/fallen-off-the-truck/remaindered merchandise made our venerable 5-and-10-cent store back home seem quite modest and boring in comparison. On a very rare occasion we might even get ice cream down at the ice-cream shack across from the high school, or stop at the shabby little grocery store for a local sale.
Castorville was our school's cross-county rival, so of course Castorvillians were considered backward, likely inbred, yokels whose academic credentials were as poor as their prowess in sports.
Who'd have thought that, three decades later, I'd be living here?
I make an excursion perhaps every other day to the post office, just down the street. They've cut their office hours in such a draconian way that picking up box mail is difficult even for those of us in town during the day. But the two clerks are beginning to say hello to me if I stop by the window on the way out. I visit the supermarket -- still shabby and mainly limited to basics, although every once in awhile they surprise us with exotica like portabello mushrooms or frozen quail. About once a week I visit the local farm store for some item of pet care, and to buy eggs from the owner, who raises chickens on the side.
It's feeling more like home. I'm starting to recognize faces of staff and regular shoppers. But it's still...different. People, in general, look different here than they do up in Outer Podunk. And it's interesting, this difference. Because I've certainly lived in other cities away from home. But there's a certain familiarity curve that I would achieve in a very short time in those other cities that I don't feel here.
Last night we took a trip to the local cemetery, next to the big lake in town, to let Gertie run. Walking among the gravestones, it struck me that so many of the surnames were unfamiliar to me -- unlike the cemeteries of greater Outer Podunk, where I -- much to the amusement and occasional bemusement of my partner -- can confidently point out city fathers and businesspeople of yore, my parents' old childhood neighbors and classmates who died young.
I wonder if this is because, while this is our home and we're planning on investing some years here until our mortgage is paid in full , we don't feel that this is going to be our final stop in the world; that in the words of the Catie Curtis song, we're actually "only passing through."
Friday, April 24, 2009
Meh
I suppose some of you are wondering what the deal is with the blog lately -- why I haven't been posting with my usual regularity.
I don't know. I'm just feeling meh lately -- think Charlie Brown in A Charlie Brown Christmas, complaining to Lucy that "I know I should be happy, but...." It's hard to think or to write or to get moving. I'm trusting it's just some sort of cyclical serotonin problem.
I don't know. I'm just feeling meh lately -- think Charlie Brown in A Charlie Brown Christmas, complaining to Lucy that "I know I should be happy, but...." It's hard to think or to write or to get moving. I'm trusting it's just some sort of cyclical serotonin problem.
Friday Five: Bucket List
This week's RevGalBlogPals Friday Five asks us to share five items from our "bucket list" -- for the uninitiated, those things we want to do before we kick the bucket.
Here are five of mine -- big and little, short and sweet:
1. Visit Vermont.
2. Learn to fly-cast.
3. Learn tai chi.
4. Learn to navigate in a personal boat -- a kayak or a canoe -- without maiming/kiling myself or others.
5. Find another "special someplace" here in Michigan, apart from our usual haunts in Leelanau and Benzie Counties, that pleases us -- that's a good place for a getaway.
Here are five of mine -- big and little, short and sweet:
1. Visit Vermont.
2. Learn to fly-cast.
3. Learn tai chi.
4. Learn to navigate in a personal boat -- a kayak or a canoe -- without maiming/kiling myself or others.
5. Find another "special someplace" here in Michigan, apart from our usual haunts in Leelanau and Benzie Counties, that pleases us -- that's a good place for a getaway.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Sermon For 2 Easter
Contrary to all appearances, I have not abandoned my blog; I just took a week or so off because of other priorities.I preached this past Sunday. Here's my sermon:
I bring you grace and peace from God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. We pray: Lord, sanctify us in your truth; your word to us is truth. Amen.
A continued Happy Easter season to you all…as a friend of mine puts it, “Jesus is on the loose again!” Because the Easter season runs 50 days – more than a month – for the next few weeks we’re going to hear Gospel stories of the risen Jesus on the loose again in our world.
Let’s revisit the first part of our Gospel text. The first Easter morning has come and gone; a few of Jesus’ friends have encountered this empty tomb, or even the risen Christ himself; but as a group the disciples are still confused, afraid and in hiding for fear of the religious and political authorities.
Suddenly, that evening, Jesus appears ; the door of their hiding place is locked, but he nonetheless appears. What do you think that would be like? Imagine being at the deathbed of a loved one, and three days later having that person show up in your living room. It’s no wonder that Jesus’ first act in this story is to bid his friends peace…twice, even.
Jesus shows his wounds to the disciples; in other words, “I’m not a ghost. I’m not an hallucination. I’m real.” Because when the risen Lord is on the loose in the world, in these last chapters of the Gospels, sometimes he’s able to do things that defy physics; he appears and disappears; he walks through solid objects; so people are confused. But Jesus convinces them of the reality of his presence among them.
And then, as his disciples rejoice at this incredible miracle in their midst – Jesus gives them a job: “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” He gives them the authority, the responsibility, to be like him in the world. And to help them do that job, he gifts them with the Holy Spirit.
A few years ago, one evening after work, I was shopping at Glen’s Supermarket in Gladwin. I had a half-hour window before I needed to be home; so I was in a hurry. You probably know how that feels, shopping with the clock ticking. I was rushed; impatient; on a mission. Suddenly, I rounded a turn and encountered…a smell. Have you ever smelled the smell of an unwashed human being, so pungent that it creates a kind of wall of smell? That’s what I smelled. I looked up. A woman, dressed in layers of dirty clothing, her hair disheveled, was standing there in the aisle, rocking back and forth on her heels, mumbling to a row of canned tomatoes. She was, as they say down South, afflicted.
Being the good Christian, good citizen, compassionate defender of the rights of the oppressed, my first thought was…”Maybe I don’t need to go down this aisle.” But I did; I needed something in that aisle. My second thought was, “If I don’t make eye contact, maybe she won’t talk to me.” I used to live in the city; I used to encounter verbally abusive, whacked out street people; I didn’t want to deal with it; not this evening, not while I was in a hurry. So I grabbed my shopping cart with extra firmness, stared straight ahead, and proceeded to walk purposefully past the afflicted woman.
I’d gotten maybe three long steps away from her when I heard a quavering voice: “Excuse me?”
I knew it. I knew she was going to talk to me. I turned around.
The afflicted woman was no longer talking to the tomatoes. She was smiling at me – despite her wild, darting eyes, she was smiling at me.
She said, “I have a message for you from the Holy Spirit. Would you like to hear it?”
How do you respond to that, in a supermarket aisle? My mind was churning with a mixture of confusion and irritation and shame for being so unkind…and fear; fear of her; fear that this scenario was spinning completely out of control.
“I have a message for you from the Holy Spirit. Would you like to hear it?”
I finally said, “Okay.”
The woman then clapped a grimy hand on my forehead, there in the supermarket aisle. She closed her eyes and began rocking on her heels. I thought, Please don’t let anyone else turn the corner right now and see this.
The woman finally opened her eyes. She was still smiling.
She said, “God wants you to know that He loves you very much.”
I honestly don’t know what I said to her in return; “Thank you,” or “God loves you too”:. But I got out of that store, and into my car, and just sat there in the parking lot for a long time. Because something big had just happened to me.
Equipped and called to be Christ in the world; to tell the good news that God loves us no matter what; that God forgives us; that God wants to be our friend; that God will do whatever it takes to draw us into relationship. Do I believe that this woman in Glen’s Supermarket, despite her illness, had somehow been equipped and called to be Christ for me, to shake me up a little, to wake me up and remind me who I am and whose I am? I do. And I tell her story now because I believe her message to me is also a message to you, and that my job is to tell it.
We Lutherans talk a good game about justification; how we are justified, made right with God, purely through God’s grace and mercy and not because of any real or perceived merit on our parts. We know we are given new life, life as children of God, through our baptism. We know about “saved.” But sometimes we forget why we are saved. That salvation isn’t all about our own little private, personal get out of jail free drama with Jesus ; that it’s about Jesus calling us to help him love and heal the world, as any situation arises for us to do so. That is our job, each one of us and in community, as the called, forgiven, freed and equipped people of God.
And the thing about Jesus being loose in the world, equipping us with the Holy Spirit and giving us the job of loving and healing the world: He doesn’t care about our qualifications. He doesn’t care about our resumes. We don’t have to achieve some special level of maturity, education or purity of intention for him to show up. We know that from Scripture, from lessons like today’s…the disciples to whom Jesus appeared were the same people who’d turned tail and abandoned him when he needed them most. They were the same people who, day after day and month after month with Jesus, didn’t get what he was telling them. They were grumbling, quarrelsome, fearful….generally clueless. In today’s Gospel lesson we find Thomas, in the face of his friends’ amazed testimony about meeting a risen Jesus, putting conditions on his belief: “Unless I can see and feel Jesus, I’m not buying it.” And yet Jesus came back for his disciples; even for Thomas.
And Jesus comes back for us. Jesus comes back, though the locked doors of our busy, complicated, confused lives, every time we meet together to hear him and to share the Sacrament with him. He comes back for us when we are touched by something we hear in a prayer or a sermon or in the stories we hear here of one another’s lives.
Jesus is still on the loose in the world. He wants to take us with him. He’s given us our assignments. He’s given us the tools. Let’s go. Amen.
And now may the peace of God, which passes all understanding,keep our hearts in the knowledge and love of God, and of his Son Jesus Christ. Amen.
Friday, April 17, 2009
A Domesticated Friday Five
Ironic that this Friday Five comes on a day when we're planning to eat out, out of town, partly as an temporary respite from our neglected household in the wake of Fellow Traveler's long bout with bronchitis.
1. What is the one appliance you simply couldn't be without?
I love our contact grill.
2. What if anything would you happily give up?
The blender, which to me is often more trouble than it's worth when it comes to cleanup. Ditto the food processor, for the same reason, and because it's simply so difficult to put together.
3. What is the most strangest household appliance you own?
Our matching University of Michigan and Michigan State University bottle openers, which play the fight songs of the respective schools when you pry off a bottle top; our dog-cookie jar, which plays "Who Let The Dogs Out?" or "Hound Dog" when you lift the lid.
4. What is the most luxurious household appliance you own?
It's not very luxurious at all, but coming from a home with a 40-year-old economy-model stove I've had to get used to our programmable stove with glass stovetop and multitudinous controls. My new Breadman bread machine is also fairly whiz-bang; enough to make me somewhat nervous trying to program it each time I use it. Oh, and then there's our new upright vacuum cleaner with the detachable canister for certain walking-around cleaning tasks and a special pet-hair-sensitive somethin'-somethin' for maximum pickup; although "vacuum" and "luxury" are not concepts I generally put together.
5. Tell us about your dream kitchen-the sky is the limit here.
For me it would be less about appliances and more about storage space. Just -- lots of accessible storage space so that everything can have its own spot. And I also have a craving for more light -- we get good sunlight from the window over the sink and from the French doors to the patio, next to the kitchen, but I think especially because of feeling like a mushroom in the dark Cold Comfort Cottage I'd like even more light -- if not from windows, from the artificial lighting.
1. What is the one appliance you simply couldn't be without?
I love our contact grill.
2. What if anything would you happily give up?
The blender, which to me is often more trouble than it's worth when it comes to cleanup. Ditto the food processor, for the same reason, and because it's simply so difficult to put together.
3. What is the most strangest household appliance you own?
Our matching University of Michigan and Michigan State University bottle openers, which play the fight songs of the respective schools when you pry off a bottle top; our dog-cookie jar, which plays "Who Let The Dogs Out?" or "Hound Dog" when you lift the lid.
4. What is the most luxurious household appliance you own?
It's not very luxurious at all, but coming from a home with a 40-year-old economy-model stove I've had to get used to our programmable stove with glass stovetop and multitudinous controls. My new Breadman bread machine is also fairly whiz-bang; enough to make me somewhat nervous trying to program it each time I use it. Oh, and then there's our new upright vacuum cleaner with the detachable canister for certain walking-around cleaning tasks and a special pet-hair-sensitive somethin'-somethin' for maximum pickup; although "vacuum" and "luxury" are not concepts I generally put together.
5. Tell us about your dream kitchen-the sky is the limit here.
For me it would be less about appliances and more about storage space. Just -- lots of accessible storage space so that everything can have its own spot. And I also have a craving for more light -- we get good sunlight from the window over the sink and from the French doors to the patio, next to the kitchen, but I think especially because of feeling like a mushroom in the dark Cold Comfort Cottage I'd like even more light -- if not from windows, from the artificial lighting.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Maundy Thursday: Tough to Digest
Fellow Traveler woke up today with a chest cold, which makes participation in our church's Maundy Thursday community meal problematic in itself.
But it would be problematic anyway. Because of FT's particular health issues, she can't eat most of the meal that our church serves -- oven beef stew, whose meat and (intentional or otherwise) al dente vegetables she finds difficult and painful to digest; an apple-and-nut salad -- our Upper Midwestern alternative to hasoreth -- which could actually send FT to the ER. So she'd pretty much be left eating the bread, even though the liturgy that accompanies the meal incorporates all the elements of the meal, leaving her hungry and idle, watching everyone else be fully interactive with the liturgy and eat their fill. When we attended together the first time FT came home in actual physical pain from trying to eat the main course, and the last time she wound up having to eat a meal before the meal and then just go through the motions of the mealtime liturgy, which defeated the whole Eucharist-as-part-of-real-meal theme.
I'm not saying that our church should jettison its service, which gains in popularity each year, because not everyone can partake of all the food. But it's been a learning experience. And it makes me appreciate the "hungry feast" of the traditional Eucharist more.
But it would be problematic anyway. Because of FT's particular health issues, she can't eat most of the meal that our church serves -- oven beef stew, whose meat and (intentional or otherwise) al dente vegetables she finds difficult and painful to digest; an apple-and-nut salad -- our Upper Midwestern alternative to hasoreth -- which could actually send FT to the ER. So she'd pretty much be left eating the bread, even though the liturgy that accompanies the meal incorporates all the elements of the meal, leaving her hungry and idle, watching everyone else be fully interactive with the liturgy and eat their fill. When we attended together the first time FT came home in actual physical pain from trying to eat the main course, and the last time she wound up having to eat a meal before the meal and then just go through the motions of the mealtime liturgy, which defeated the whole Eucharist-as-part-of-real-meal theme.
I'm not saying that our church should jettison its service, which gains in popularity each year, because not everyone can partake of all the food. But it's been a learning experience. And it makes me appreciate the "hungry feast" of the traditional Eucharist more.
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