Thursday, March 29, 2007

Gallivanting

Some people in my family call me to ask where I am. "We were sitting here over dinner wondering where in the world you actually are now." This has certainly been a year of freedom to go and do whatever I wished, and I have enjoyed it. I have tried to use this time well, as I know that being a pastor somewhere will usurp my time and energy so completely that I will not have such unfettered time again. My trip to London in December was just such an indulgence. The price was right, a friend was ready to go; we went. As I prepared to leave Mississippi, I e-mailed a friend in Western New York state to see if I could visit before I went back to California.
She is a enjoying her first experience as a pastor by shepherding two small congregations on the shore of Lake Erie. Her parsonage is a four-bedroom, two-story house, with plenty of room for guests, so her answer was a delighted YES.

I drove away from Biloxi on a Friday afternoon, and spent the night in Houston. I wanted to see an exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston of a 17th Century Dutch floral painter - Van Hylsum. What a wonderful gallery. I took a quick tour through their 20th Century gallery, stopped in the museum shop (my downfall, always), and then headed for the Rothko Chapel about a mile away. The chapel itself was wonderfully situated in a park with a Barnett Newman sculpture in a reflecting pool, especially lovely in the misty rain. But I was disappointed by the paintings. I had recently seen a room full of Rothkos glowing in the dimmed light in the Tate Modern in London. The paintings at the Tate were haunting and compelling. There was no comparison. Then late that Saturday night, I arrived at Richard and Dianne's in Dallas for a miniscule visit before flying off to Buffalo on Monday.

Western New York was even more beautiful than I expected. Small villages separated by stretches of hardwood forest, all blanketed with fresh snow. The lake was frozen and a few fishermen had shacks far from shore. We drove all over the countryside - Amish farms, the Chautauqua Institution, an Arts and Crafts village in East Aurora, and Niagara Falls from the Canadian side complete with a side trip to Niagara on the Lake, a tiny tourist town at the edge of Lake Ontario. It was wonderful to see K at work in her two churches -- they love her, and she is on the way to being a wonderful pastor. But it was hard to watch her at work in her parishes, I so long for my own. There are some openings for pastors in the Upstate New York Synod. Maybe one of them could be mine. We had such a good time together, laughing and comparing experiences since our seminary days two years ago. It was like balm after the intensity of my Biloxi time, and its hard farewells.

A few days more in Dallas and a farewell to Richard and Dianne on my return from Buffalo. I have been able to spend so much time with them in the last year. Their home feels like home to me. What a gift that has been. It was hard to leave, knowing that I will not be just heading back in a few weeks or months.

I wanted to see Taos again, and to visit my new favorite shopping venue - a jewelry store in which the owner makes most of the jewely herself. I also found wonderful wool to feed my knitting addiction. It is hand-spun and dyed with plants from the Taos area. And then to Sun City and my sister, after a drive through the Arizona mountains.

My sister, Pat, is recovering from serious abdominal surgery and some complications that followed shortly after. I was planning an overnight, but stayed for three days. It gave me a chance to visit Lord of Life Lutheran Church, which had sent a group to Biloxi with their pastor only a few weeks before I left. And then to Santa Barbara and Marti's wonderful home.

Two weeks later, I have still not unpacked all my suitcases. I have just enough in the closet to get dressed every day. This week I drove to Sacramento for a conference with the Bishops and their assistants who place pastors in congregations. It was an opportunity to network, interview, get feedback on my interview style and tips on better interveiw skills. It also gave me a chance to stay overnight with a fellow seminarian who has just received her first call, and some other seminary friends who were in town for the same conference. We had dinner and drank a lot of wine and caught up and laughed about old times. Our seminary class was very small - not good for the school, but a boon for us, as we become very attached to each other. I stopped in Berkeley on my way out of Sacramento, staying with another seminary friend who is completing an MA. It gave me a chance to visit with another whole group of friends and professors. I do not miss being a student, but I do miss the challenge of academic life, and the community that lives on the seminary hill. After a long ride down the California coast, I am once again at Marti's.

I promised a friend who is in Mexico City this year on internship that I would visit her in April. Wow, April is already here. I am divided in my thinking about another trip. Wouldn't it be fun to fly off to Mexico for a week? But the idea of packing and making flight arrangements is a little daunting. I am feeling a bit disconnected from my own feelings, I think. Having stopped back at Marti's feels like coming home. It has given all the feelings of longing and disappointment connected to my expectations of a call to a congregation a chance to catch up with me. My decision to become more assertive in my search for a first call has turned up a few possibilites, and I don't even know what to expect in that line from the conference this week. Anyway, this morning I awoke with new energy, ready to sign up for a Spanish class and maybe go back to the gym. Is it the affirmation of inteviewing well and getting good feedback that feels so good, or is it having a chance to spend time with people you are glad to see after a long absence? I wish I had an answer. One think I know: waiting sucks. But perhaps I am gaining the virtue of patience, whether I want it or not.

I bought a guide book on Mexico today. Maybe my gallivanting days are not over yet.

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Leaving Mississippi

It was so hard to drive away. I had come to love the Mississippi coast and its people. I had become part of Bethel Lutheran Hurricane Katrina Ministry and the people who labor to accomodate the volunteers and create a place for those most affected by the storm to find hope and help. It was so good to work side by side with Judy Bultman, Judy Jones, Dorothy and Donna, Lisa and all the volunteers who, like me came to stay to be part of this mighty work: Heather and Carol Lee, Kelli and Allison, Andy, Ed and Eunice, and all the cooks who graced our tables with their loving labors.

It had been good work for me to sit in the clinic with people who needed healing, to hear their stories, and to pray with them. It had been good work to offer Bible passages for volunteers to wear or carry with them each day as a focus, keeping their work rooted in God's work. It had been good work to lead Lectio Divina in the mornings for staff to rest a minute in God's word before the overwhelming demands of a day filled with emergencies and sorrows and miracles. I wanted to find a place in Mississippi. I wanted to create a home for myself there among those people who still need healing and beside those people who walk with them toward a restored future. But it was not to be. The grants that would have provided such an opportunity came attached to work that required credentials I did not have, and separating the requiements I could not meet was complicated at best. It seemed like a closed door. At the same time, through the gracious invitation of Bethel's Pastor, Gerry Bultman and his colleagues in the conference, I was able to attend weekly text study and monthly cluster meetings. I missed being a pastor more and more as I spent time with pastors. It became clear to me that in order to pursue a placement as a first-call pastor, I would have to recommit to that process and go home. So I left the Mississippi Coast on February 23, heading to brother Richard and sister-in-law Dianne in Dallas one more time on my way west.

I learned so much at Bethel. I learned that communities grieve like people grieve. I learned how God is present in a special way to those who need God's presence the most. I learned to expect God to provide everything that is needed for ministry, and saw miracles every day. I learned that you can see God's face in the people you work with and in the people you serve. And most of all, I learned that those who answer God's call to help receive blessing on blessing, beyond any of the help they give or the gratitude they receive for it. I made deep friends with others who worked the long hours in the popcorn-popper atmosphere of emergency ministry. There was hardly a moment to breathe, and there were many days in which I never saw anything outside of the building I worked in or the parking lot in which my camper lived.

But this experience has shaped my future ministry. I know now that a church can be used in every nook and cranny every moment of the week to provide ministry. Such a ministry can be a beacon not only to the neighbors it serves, but to those who come to work in it and have their faith regenerated by the work in which they have particpated. Volunteers go home filled with a new measure of God's Spirit to regenerate their own ministries. It was a privilege to live that renewal, and I will be eternally grateful to the people of Bethel Lutheran Church for welcoming all the volunteers who come to serve, but especially for the generosity with which they welcomed me.

One morning in the clinic orientation I introduced myself as Almost-Pastor Barbara, explaining that though I seved in some pastoral capacities there, I was not ordained yet. One of the volunteers called me "Almost" for the rest of the week and the name stuck. I will be ordained someday. I hope it will be soon. But Amost-Pastor Barbara has become a name of special honor to me. I will treasure it always.