Back From Camp

What do I do with my time?

Girl Scouts is something I do. My troop of 14 girls has been together through Daisies (kindergarten) and the first year of Brownies. They are all seven years old now. Each meeting we share stories; things that made us feel happy or sad or angry. Most of these conversations are of teeth loose, teeth lost, teeth coming in. Occasionally there is a new brother/sister born, or a puppy adopted. This year two girls lost grandpas.

Last week we went to Day Camp. The weather was finer than fine; cool and sunny. We swam and hiked and walked in a creek. We did crafts and sang song and ate lunch outside. We washed and kissed lots of scraped knees. We laid on quilts and listened to Miss Mary (another leader) read Nancy Drew's Mystery at Camp.

College students come to campus for cultural immersion studies. Day Camp has a similar quality. There, I am fully immersed in the culture of childhood. I find it both lovely and a bit sad. It's sad to me that children need to be entertainment. At the edge of the creek, they ask what they are supposed to do next. I say, "Go play" and they are wide-eyed at the prospect. What's lovely is how they take to it. Childhood kicks in and they are climbing rocks, slooping through the mud or utterly still, watching a fish.

It's meant for them but good for me. . . a week with nothing more important to do than watch a fish or sit in the woods with a kid on my lap. I doubt there is more necessary work in all the world ~ to sit like a child in the cool of creation and be grateful for it.

Blessings, Pastor Annette

Start out slowly . . . and then taper off

Back at work after several weeks of leave, my intention is to stay as centered in the midst of my "normal" life as I did when I had hours and hours to myself. It is no small thing to want. Like everyone else I know, my "normal" day is full of things I love to do among people with whom I love to be. Among and between these things and people much is exchanged ~ needs and comforts, help given and help recieved. Easily does that sense of centeredness slip out the side pocket of my conciousness. In no time at all, I'm mentally rushing here and there, working hard to beat the clock ~ the alarm that says this day has run out and everything must be put off till tommorrow.

I've learned, and am learning, that if I do that first hour right ~ the rest usually follows. Doing it right means, for me, starting out slowly. . . and then tapering off. It means waking up slowly, rising rested, giving the kids my full attention till they are on the bus, sitting on the porch and just listening/watching until my insides do this little mental/spiritual exhale that tells me it's time to get ready for the next part ~ work, house, whatever. Through the day, when that little demon in my head offers her the only word she knows, "hurry. . .hurry. . .hurry" ~ therein is my cue ~ breathe, slow down, wait. On the occasional day that goes as I intended, the time lengthens and day's end is not a judgement but a curse. . . a gift. . .a joy.

Writing Day

Friday is writing day ~ the day that reading, prayer and study hopefully coalesce and fall onto a page in the shape and sound of a sermon.

The most difficult part is carving out the 3-4 hours of uninterrupted quiet needed for that to happen. Half the interruptions are external; ringing phone, sick kids, kids who need me to visit their classrooms, etc. But the other half are my own; inability to sit still, constant temptation to see what's in the fridge/on the bookshelf/etc.

The best plan I've been able to find is scurrying myself into the corner of some library or bookstore with my laptop cabled to the chair. The spot must be mildly uncomfortable (Barnes & Noble keeps the a/c at about 50 degrees, Borders cafe chairs are horrible, people who sleep at the library tend to snore) so that I am very motivated to get finished.

My text is Romans 5:1-5. Paul says we have peace with God through Jesus, through whom we have gained access to this grace in which we now stand. An old commentary I'm reading describes grace as the treasure house, a grand room full of riches into which we are all brought by God's intention and desire. Our choice is what manner of shopping bag we shall carry in, fill and spend from. Some choose a tiny basket, big enough for a single coin. Others bring their own cart, so wide they can fill it with more than can be spent in a lifetime.

We shall see what the day brings to the page ~ and into hearing this coming Sunday. Blessings! Annette

My first blog. . . . .

The one teaching me to "Blog", who happens to be a congregant, suggests that somebody somewhere might wonder what a pastor does all day.

Personally, I have no idea what most pastors are doing. But I hope they are enjoying this life as much as I do. First, I sat on the porch swing and wrote in my journal. Then I assembled the marinade for the chicken we will eat for supper. Once on the way to work, I talked on the phone ~ but only briefly for I was due at the 3rd grade science fair where I visited our three UBC 3rd graders. I learned what makes a rubber band stretchy, that you cannot see a coin underneath a jar full of water but you can see one through an empty jar. Also, I watched a tornado in a 2 liter bottle. Amazing.

I am also knitting a red/white/cream afghan for my son. Knitting will be a regular feature of this blog ~ as will reading, cooking, kids, flowers and the stories that make me happy, sad, angry and confused.

After lunch, I read Karl Barth, a German theologian. My favorite sentence, in comments on Romans 5, is "The merry men of God are merry where there is no merriment; and this is the boasting of the man who is righteous by faith." Come Sunday and you (hopefully) will hear more. Must sign off and meet with our worship planning group.

I love this pastoring life! Annette