...and miles to go before I sleep.

It's time to close down my sabbatical blogsite. The sabbatical is over and I'm moving into parish life again. It's been difficult to continue to blog about daily occurrences because so many involve individuals in the parish and even without naming names, they would be easily identifiable. That can't happen.

This blogging has been an incredible experience. It's taught me the importance of journaling and the importance of community, regardless of whether that community is virtual or real. Living in a vacuum is not a healthy thing so I've appreciated the comments and responses, both on-line on this site, through my email address, and personally.

The processing of this sabbatical will continue to inform my ministry and my life. For the experience I am deeply grateful to the people of St. Clement's for their support, both spiritual and financial. They have brought home a clear-headed and spiritually healthy rector. This is a major mitzvah that they have supported as a community. I hope other faith communities will see the importance of this support for their own spiritual leaders. As I think I said early on: Sabbaticals are not vacations. Rather they are times for renewal, centering, reflection, and discovering more about one's relationship with God and creation. Sabbaticals are crucial to those who are responsible for the spiritual care and guidance of faith communities. It's often difficult to get clergy to understand this; it's essential for a faith community to insist on it.


There might be a time in the future when I start another public blog. But for now, my journaling will have to be off-line. Thanks for Stopping by Woods with me. There are still miles to go before I sleep, and I'm looking forward to the next leg of my life journey.

A regular kind of week.

The sermons did get written last Sunday. The morning sermon was okay -- it seemed to flop at the early service but played a little better at the later service. It's good to get back into some of kind of daily routine, even though there continue to be anomalies. The memorial service in the afternoon was probably the most well-done funeral I have ever taken part in. Around 700 people attended, filling up all available breathing space in the cathedral. It was a time of quiet dignity, laughter and weeping, and glorious music -- both Hawaiian and Anglican.It felt as if we were in a small family group in the intimacy that was experienced. The scattering of the ashes on Monday morning was also really well done. Five canoes, a few surfboards, and a calm sea. There was a sprinkling of rain, and then the sun provided us with a beautiful rainbow across the Waikiki sky. Just as the canoes reached their destination, another rainbow began to form in the sky. It couldn't have been more perfect. I'm so happy that everything worked out the way it did. But as many of us know, there are still difficult times ahead so we continue to keep Vi in our prayers.

The play time with my friends from State College PA was also very good. The day before they left, we went on a seaplane ride around the island, taking pretty much the same route that we took when we drove around the island the day before.

Seeing O`ahu from the sky is breath-taking -- this was my second time in the seaplane and I enjoyed it just as much as the first(except for a 'little' bout of motion sickness...).

It's the only seaplane tour in the islands and I'd strongly recommend it for any first time visitors. http://www.islandseaplane.com/







I asked Rob to run the vestry meeting last Monday. It was his last regular meeting and I needed to sit back and just observe the group for a while. It went well. The one downer was receiving the SeniorWarden's resignation for both personal and work reasons. We had talked about this so I wasn't surprised, but the rest of the vestry was. My own reaction is that it takes a lot of courage to walk away from a position when it's not working. Very few of us know how to do that. I respect her immensely for serving and for knowing when her many gifts were needed in ministries other than vestry. She will continue to be a personal sounding board for me as we move forward into the unknown.

This week I've continued to be very deliberate about moving back into the various layers of parish life. I'm not feeling rushed or anxious about the many issues that developed during my sabbatical. I'm convinced that with God's help we will continue as a faith community to move forward into more deeply living out our faith individually and corporately.

Personally -- emotionally and spiritually -- I seem to be doing well. A little meditation to begin each day and the constant awareness of the Holy Spirit's presence does help. I did have an interesting experience in the middle of the night. I got up for a glass of water and, probably still asleep, ran into the chest at the foot of my bed. I went flying and landed on my back. That woke me up a little more but not much. When I looked up, Hooker and Cranmer were standing with their front paws on the footboard, staring at me. What a sight that must have been. But I'm sleeping well, reading, and enjoying the quiet solitude of my home at the end of each day. And that's good.

If I could only find someone to clean the house, I'd feel even better.

Off to take a nap.

My first week back is almost finished. Interesting week it was, too. A number of good meetings and exchanges with individuals. Absolutely no time to be bored or standing around with nothing to do. I even had some difficulty checking email during the day. But it was good to be busy. I'm feeling quite centered -- it's a bit like riding a horse that's bucking and being able to balance and center in the saddle so that one's body moves with the horse rather than being thrown. (Yes, I used to ride Western and the feeling of being centered and almost one with the horse is not a feeling that one easily forgets.) That's how this week has felt and I'm thankful for it.

I've also found myself being more pensive throughout each day. Maybe starting with a Rilke poem helps; maybe doing more observing and listening brings on the pensivity (is that a word?). But I did keep my Thursday morning reading time -- that was good.
Friday wasn't quite as easy because there's a Standing Committee meeting on the second Friday of the month. But it was a very good meeting and I am increasingly impressed with +Bob and his intentional review of the many relationships the diocese has with different entities.
This is my last year on Standing Committee, and I will miss it, especially because +Bob really does want it to become his council of advise and an integral part of the diocesan leadership. But term limits are good and recycling members tends to stagnate groups, so it will be fun to watch who gets elected in October.

Part of the week was spent working on Paul Loo's funeral service, and other parts with folks who are dealing with the impending death of relatives and those who need to be seen by the rector. Those are all very sobering situations. On the other hand, I welcomed an old friend from my grad school days at Penn State in the early 1970s. She's in the Islands with a friend to attend a higher ed conference last week on the Big Island. We haven't seen each other in about 30 years and reconnected only about 2 years ago.
They arrived in town yesterday and we spent half the afternoon and evening together, doing a few of the sites and dining on the lanai of the Elks Club. It was very good indeed to reconnect with Linda (on the left) and to meet Susan. We did have a thoroughly enjoyable time with lots of laughter. They'll be here for about a week so I'm looking forward to spending a little more time with them as my schedule allows.

This morning I spent some time with Paul's family and some close friends of the family, wrapping Paul's ashes in a puolo. This is what his son will carry into tomorrow's funeral service and what will be tossed into the Pacific as we scatter his ashes. It was a very solemn and awesome ritual of wrapping those ashes.

However. Before we began that, Paul's daughter, Pam, brought me a present. And what a present it was! Chopped chicken liver, real rye bread, pickles, corned beef, and pastrami -- all from a real deli in San Francisco. What a surprise -- I just couldn't believe it. And I was so touched that she had done that for me -- all packed in a little cooler to keep it fresh and cold. Just wow.
Deli rye bread is so good that it can be eaten totally on its own -- no butter or any other kind of spread. Of course I spread chopped chicken liver on it, a slice of onion, and then totally basked in the flavor and texture of such an extraordinary sandwich. Just wow.

I also did something I haven't done as much of lately. I wrote a response to four retired Episcopal bishops who wrote a smarmy letter -- an open letter -- to the Executive Council of the Episcopal Church. This is all so tiring: the letters are predictable, the responses are predictable (as was mine), and we just keep going in circles. The essence of the Anglican Communion is being challenged in this "situation" and it becomes increasingly clear that a number of the African bishops are more interested in redefining Anglicanism to their particular culture and traditions and history. They are in a very different place than the Anglican Communion in the west, even though there are Americans and Canadians and others who agree with the theology of the Africans. I suspect it won't be long before we see an official break in the Communion. What will be most interesting is to watch the disaffected Episcopalians: will they continue to align with the Africans or will they form splinter groups as happened in the 19th and 20th centuries.

Time to get my head in a better place so I can write tomorrow's sermon and the homily for Paul's service.

It's been a quiet week in...

Sunday was my first day back to work. It was good to return to the community and to reconnect. The early congregation was very funny in its welcoming behavior. When the altar part walked into the church to begin the service, I happened to look around the congregation and realized almost EVERYONE was in a place that was not their customary seat. We all know how Episcopalians and other pew sitters tend to have "my" pew. As I tell them, that's how I take attendance and know who's missing!
We sometimes think the the early congregations in our parishes -- those with said liturgy and little-to-no music -- are in and out on Sunday mornings, don't do much socializing, and are the more serious and quiet of our congregations. It was definitely a surprise to see almost the entire congregation take part in this little "trick." When it was sermon time, I walked into the pulpit, leaned of the top, looked at them for a few seconds, and said, "You're all trying to make me crazy, aren't you?" Much laughter -- they were really quite proud of themselves -- and deservedly so!

There was a really nice brunch between services, and lots of opportunities for getting acquainted. The second service was definitely upbeat, and I appreciated especially that two of my favorite hymns were included.

The sermon wasn't really a sermon -- it was more like a good-to-be-home-again homily. But it was focused on how difficult we make such an important communication as prayer and and how important it is to actually believe that God is good in a way that affects our lives. We don't say that enough, I think, and we don't know how that belief actually fits into the trials and joys of our lives. So we will be doing more work on prayer and thankfulness over the next few months.

But it was an exhausting morning as well. Spending four months out of the center of a community and then jumping right back in can be jarring to the spirit and soul. I'm finding that it is going to take a little while to move into a new daily routine. Both Monday and Tuesday were chock-a-block full of sitting with different individuals to begin the transition and to be brought up to date on what's been happening. Being intentional about sitting back and listening, taking things slowly, not letting pre-sabbatical button pushers drive my responses and actions have all helped to make these last two days not as overwhelming as they could be.

Along with my Friday sabbath (yes, one day 'off' each week), I've also put aside Thursday mornings for professional reading. This will make a difference in helping me to keep balance in my week, as well as in providing a small opportunity to be continuously excited about potential parish ministries and issues and approaches to spiritual growth.

But it's not been easy jumping right back into 8-10 hour days after four months of relative down time. Today will be a little less full, and tomorrow even less.

My morning's start with a poem from Rilke's Book of Hours: Love Poems to God. Good stuff for meditation throughout the day. Today's selection:

We must not portray you in king's robes,
you drifting mist that brought forth the morning.

Once again from the old paintboxes
we take the same gold for scepter and crown
that has disguised you through the ages.

Piously we produce our images of you
till they stand around you like a thousand wall.
And when our hearts would simply open,
our fervent hands hide you.

No pictures tonight. Just thoughts.

This has certainly been an interesting week. It's the last week of my sabbatical and I've spent much of it dealing with jet lag. It was definitely good to fly into Honolulu last Sonday -- got my luggage quickly enough and Beverly and Rob picked me up at the curb. Got home to the boys (Hooker and Cranmer) and to my friend Ange, who has been such a major help in keeping the house clean between visitors and making it especially nice for my arrival. I haven't mentioned her before but she definitely deserves acknowledgement. She loves the cats and I think that's one of the main reasons she agreed to help me out with keeping the house up to snuff for our guests. Housecleaning is not something she does; it was a special favor for me, and I don't know how I would have gotten along without her. She's a good person and I hope our various kitty-sitters appreciated the care she took. I certainly have.

It took a little while getting used to the idea that I'm not leaving again. What was interesting was that I no longer fell back into some of my pre-sabbatical routines. Rather I've been finding a way to integrate my new sabbatical routines into my daily life. Having a little breakfast, meditative prayer in the morning, reading the paper, and then turning on the computer. I've also not spent any significant time in front of the TV. Reading has been so enjoyable that I'm doing that in the evening rather than vegging out in front of the tube. I actually don't even like to do that anymore, and I think that the boys are even enjoying the quiet evenings.

I received the first draft copy of the raw data of the listening process that the parish went through in my absence. 56 pages of comments and perceptions about all aspects of parish life, including the clergy. Over thirty listeners contacted everyone in the parish inviting their participation. Over 200 adults participated and about 30 teens also shared their feelings about the parish community. The interesting thing about this is that the listeners truly listened rather than engaging in conversation. Confidentiality was guaranteed to the responders, giving us a better chance to hear very honest answers. Three of our parishioners coordinated the project, putting in hundreds and hundreds of hours gathering, sorting, categorizing, and inputting all of the responses. It is an amazing piece of work and I'm looking forward to sharing it with the vestry and the parish as we welcome Gay and Albert Jennings back in September to help us use this information to develop a vision for the next five years. At some point, I'll upload the information from the CD. This is the kind of in-depth evaluation that could be so productive for so many parishes. It's really quite an impressive piece of work, and I'm so pleased that it is so overwhelmingly positive about our first five years together..

I have to preach tomorrow. The readings are good and I'm especially fond of the hymns that were chosen. There is a welcoming prayer that was written by one of our parishioners that will acknowledge our coming back together after four months. Surprisingly, I'm a little nervous about tomorrow, although I'm not feeling any inspritation to actually write a sermon. Rather I feel like the sermon needs to be more reflective, extemporaneous, and from the center of the aisle. When I awaken tomorrow morning at 4, I'll just have to see what the Holy Spirit has in store for me.

There's so much to share, and I'm supposed to present a sabbatical report to the vestry in about a week. But perhaps the biggest learning (at least tonight I think this is the biggest learning) is to keep my daily life focused on prayer and on my relationship with God. Everything else flows from that. Spending six weeks at St. Margaret's has helped to readjust my priorities and to take seriously the need to stop a few times throughout the day to reconnect intentionally with God. I think also that a regular evening midweek service may be in the works if I can get some parishioners to sign up as worship leaders. We've done that during Lent but it's time to make it a year-round piece of our community worship in addition to Sunday mornings and Wedenesday mornings. Adding another Bible study -- this time in the evening -- also seems important. Making much better use of our lay leadership and intentionally inviting more paticipation by parishioners needs to happen.

As I type, I see the scar from the chisel accident and can see very clearly that it hit an artery exactly. Maybe it's a vein. Whatever it is, I can follow it on the back of my hand as it runs right into the scar. I couldn't have been so on-target if I had actually tried to hit it. The wound is healing on the outside, but internally, it's still pretty tender.

As much as I'm looking forward to tomorrow morning and to being back in the office on Monday, there's also a bit of anxiety building up with Rob's impending departure. Frankly, I have no idea how we're going to sustain and further deepen the faith of our parishioners -- of all ages -- without a full-time associate and at least a part-time youth minister. I don't know how much more financial support we can expect of our membership, but I do know I can't do this as the only ordained person on staff. These are not volunteer positions and they are crucial to the continued growth and development of the parish. So of everything that will be happening for the rest of the summer and into the fall, this is something that is weighing very heavy on my soul. How we address it is a huge challenge for all of us.

I'm going back to the parish much healthier -- emotionally, spiritually, and physically -- and am looking forward to reconnecting with parishioners. I'm also going to pay very close attention to those who tend to fall through the cracks or who seem to remain on the periphery of the community. There aren't many but there are enough that it's important we find new ways to reach out.

I feel like I'm rambling, but maybe that's what I need to be doing to clear my head out in preparation for the sermon development.

One of the things I picked up in the listening process report was the perennial issue of the rector needing to be all things to all people. That shouldn't surprise me, even in a parish that has sucfh a depth of lay leadership and pariticipation. There are still some who seem to have their own set of priorities for what the rector should be doing; compiling those priorities results in one unsaid expectation: the rector should be doing everything. On the other hand, an overwhelming perception is that the rector is doing way too much and needs to say "No" more often. I have to keep reminding myself that there's one of me and almost 400 parishioners. Four months ago, had I read this, I probably would have thrown up my hands in frustration and considered moving on. But after four months of renewal and rebalancing and reconnecting with God, this doesn't frustrate me. It does say to me, however, that there needs to be continuing education about what the rector does and why she doesn't always meet everyone's expectations.

I spent a couple of hours with Vi Loo this afternoon, planning for Paul's memorial service next Sunday. It was a very good two hours, filled with laughter and tears and some very serious planning. I think the service itself is something that Paul will appreciate -- simple, dignified, and reflective of who he was as a caring and loving man.

So tomorrow morning is a new beginning of sorts. It will be good to be back in the community and to renew our commitment to do God's work together. Since I have to iron my cassock-alb in the morning, maybe the Holy Spirit will make her appearance at the ironing board and give me a little guidance on my re-entry sermon. Maybe ironing board inspiration is quotidian inspiriation, back to one of the first blog entries in March. After all, being a Christian means claiming a way of life that is the essence of who we are, in every thing we do in every aspect of our lives.

Final evening on the mainland.

Saturday afternoon and evening were spent with Sarah, Dan, Lizzie, Michael, and Dani. It's always good to gather -- especially when there's hunter's sausage to eat. Long family tradition of buying pounds of this at the local Kowalski's Meats, and munching on it through the weekend. It's the one thing everyone in the family loves. Unfortunately, the Kowalski stores closed relatively recently and Julie discovered that the local Costco's were selling it. Thank God for that.

If it isn't in the Hawaiian Costco's -- and I suspect it won't be since they tend to carry the various Portuguese sausages rather than Eastern European sausages -- I'm going to get Julie to pack it and send it out here. Michael has one going into his mouth and two others in his left hand...




Steaks on the grill for dinner and a pretty pleasant evening. We were able to get a few shots with me, Sarah, and Lizzie -- it helped for Julie to hold Gizmo and wave his paw. That's about the only thing that got the three of us looking in the same direction.


But at some point after dinner, Lizzie had obviously had enough and provided us with a really fine demonstration of the extent to which a one-year-old can throw a temper tantrum.

Finally her grandmother put her on the rocking elephant and got her to quiet down. The pout, though, a classic. Soon thereafter, Lizzie and her parents departed for the southwest and Ann Arbor.

A photo for this evening.

I'll write again tomorrow, but I thought I'd post a photo that's pretty cute. Lizzie is sitting in a rocking chair that her great-great grandfather gave to me when I was her age, and that was then passed on to her mother. It's nice to be around to see the development of some traditions and family "heirlooms."

A day with Julie on Houghton Lake.

After a good night's sleep, Julie and I did a little errand on Friday morning and then took off for Houghton Lake, where she and Tom have a cottage (actually a "small" 3 BR house). We stopped on the way at Freeway Fritz's, a place that sells Frankenmuth chicken and little tchatchkes, and took a slight detour into the Birch Run Outlet complex.

(Frankenmuth is a village that's kind of in the thumb of Michigan. It's famous for its two German restaurants that sell chicken dinners family style -- all you can eat.

It was a family tradition growing up to go to Frankenmuth a couple of times a year, and after we had grown, coming home to visit often meant a trip to Frankenmuth for a chicken dinner.)

An hour later we pulled into the driveway.

That afternoon I said to Julie, "Let's take the boat out on the lake," not knowing that was something she didn't often do. But she was good, and said, "Sure!" So we unsnapped the tarp covering the boat, got it down into the water, and spent about 5 minutes trying to get the key in the ignition. Ken, a guy who lives across the canal and is married to a woman named Barb, was greatly entertained watching us go through this little operation. (The photos of this entire adventure are below. Fighting jet lag, I still don't have the wherewithall to intersperse them throughout the text.)

Finally the key fit, she turned on the ignition, revved the motor, and started backing out. And she actually did a very nice job, too.

So we waved to Ken and off we went down the canal into the main canal that leads into the lake. We very slowly followed another boat that was dragging a couple of kids sitting on an inner tube.
We went under the bridge and into the opening to the lake. Julie made it through the narrow bridge opening without scraping the sides of the boat at all. This was also something that she didn't normally do.

Out into the lake -- a very large lake it is -- and we spent a little time while Julie figured out how to balance the engines and the speed so the bow of the boat stayed low and allowed to look over the front. I was impressed. She tried and tried and tried and didn't give up, and finally she had it figured out perfectly. So we took off into the center of the lake and had a really nice view of various places along the shore.

One of the things that struck me as we were zipping around the lake, feeling the water and the wind, was how free I felt. We were having pure fun with no expectation of producing anything other than a good time. I liked that a lot and wonder if I can replicate it at home. What would give me that same sense of utter freedom?

On the way back, we got a bit stuck in a part of the lake that is only three feet deep (for such a big lake, it's very shallow), and needed to slowly move forward so as not to mess up the blades of the engine. While we were doing that, I saw a mother loon with her little loonettes following closely behind. At one point, one of the babies was riding on the mother's back, which is something that little loons do. I figure we got stuck in the shallow water for a reason and the reason was to see the loon family. Definitely a treat.

One the way back in, under the bridge, we were treated to some local art work. A life-sized carved bear with a fish in its mouth, and another lawn "ornament" of a bear with a fishing pole next to a pink jet-ski. Too precious.

We got back to Julie's, she made a wide turn, pulled the boat onto its ramp, shut off the engine, and we were successfully done with our adventure. She did a really fine job from beginning to end, didn't get frustrated at any point, and I think we both thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.













































We had dinner later -- actually we gnoshed on hunter's sausage and horseradish sauce, the chicken and sides that we picked up at Freeway Fritz's, and the shrimp that had been leftover from the night before.

The next morning we closed everything up, left, and spent a little time at the Birch Run Outlet mall, where I bought some shoes and a few other things. Stopped at Starbuck's, gassed up the car, and took off down I-75 for Bloomfield Hills and Julie's house. Tom had flown in from Baltimore the night before and the kids -- Sarah and Michael, spouses, and Lizzie -- were coming over.

It was a good thing to spend time with number 2 sister. Usually there are lots of family around and we don't get much chance to spend time alone with each other. So this was very good. Julie is not only my sister, but she's also a good friend. And that's a gift. I'm fortunate to have three sisters that I also like and enjoy spending time with. For that, my parents deserve the credit. Not sure what they did or why we turned out the way we did -- all very different but all focused on the importance of family.

Thinking about this reminds me of an evening, after I had graduated from college, when I was sitting with my mother on the porch of the house in which we grew up. I took it upon myself to tell her everything she did wrong raising me. After all, I now had a college degree and knew a lot from my psych and sociology courses. Thinking back, what impressed me most is that she didn't laugh me right back to college. I deserved to be booted all the way to Kalamazoo for my college-educated arrogance. I don't remember if she and I ever re-visited that conversation. I hope we did and I hope I apologized for being such a smart-mouthed, disrespectful kid.

At any rate, it was good to spend time with Julie, and I looked forward to spending time with the "kids" that afternoon.

Unexpected hiatus.

I've been in Bloomfield Hills and at Houghton Lake with my sister, Julie. Lots of good stuff and good photos and a lot of packing still to do before leaving early tomorrow morning for a 9:00 flight out of Detroit. After the happenings today in the UK, I expect security will be ramped up considerably. So I'll write during my trip home and hope to upload text along with some photos Sunday evening, HST.

Not a good traveling day for Liz.

This really was not the day to be traveling.

After finally getting to Dulles, I walked down the corridor to the gate of the flight to Detroit. It was one of those 50-person commuter jets. They're weird little planes to fly in in the first place. Fifty of us are sitting tightly together in this long, thin metal container. It was hot and the AC was barely working. The flight attendant was barely working as well.

As we sat on the ground, there was suddenly this awful odor. Someone had gas and was sharing it with the rest of us. It was either the guy next to me or the guy in front of me. I sat up as straight as I could and moved my nose as close as possible to the air flow thingie that was aimed at my seat. Finally it subsided.

About halfway through the flight, it happened again. It was even worse because the tube (plane)was warmer and there was very little air flow. I closed one nostril and tried breathing into my hand. Finally it subsided.

After landing in Detroit (having circled over downtown Detroit and much of Windsor), we were taxiing to the gate and it happened a third time. I pulled my t-shirt up over my nose to filter out the odor. It was just awful. And finally it subsided as the door was being opened for us to exit.

Once I got my luggage, I caught the Avis bus to pick up the rental car. I had asked for a compact knowing it would be upgraded one size. When I got there, I had a compact and was told that it was upgraded from a subcompact. After insisting that I wouldn't even think of asking for a subcompact, I suggested the customer service guy look around and find me something larger than a compact (one suitcase couldn't even fit in the trunk). I ended up with a nice Jeep at the same rate. Lately Avis has been acting like #3 or #4 rather than a We-try-harder #2. Time to send an evaluation letter to them.

I got in the Jeep and started the trip north to Bloomfield Hills. Two major detours added on a good half hour and then I got myself lost thinking I knew a shortcut.

As I said, this was not a good day for me to travel.

BUT. Once I got to Julie's, she had hunter's sausage and horseradish sauce and shrimp cocktails. Along with a bottle of cold beer, it doesn't get much better than that. Smart woman, my sister. So we had a good time gnoshing and talking, sat out on the deck for a while, and now I get to do some writing. Julie says they have a nightly visit from a horned owl in a dead tree out in back so I'm looking forward to seeing that. That's her puppy Gizmo in her lap. Giz is a 14-year-old Shi Tzu who is still trying to enjoy some quality in his life. He and Julie are close companions.





On the theme of the day, though, it wasn't even a good day for me to walk. Do you see the kitchen in the picture? Do you see the screen door that must be moved to walk into the house and the kitchen? I didn't, walked right into it, and bounced back about two feet.


Tomorrow morning we're on our way up to Houghton Lake where Julie and Tom have a "cottage." Back on Saturday for a cook-out with Sarah and her family and Michael and his wife Dani. Steak. Hooray!

Special rooms for special people.

Airline clubs need to start providing rooms for people who have a need to talk loudly on their phones. I'm sitting in United's Red Carpet Club at Logan. One guy has been talking loudly on his phone while walking through a couple of different areas. He needs a long narrow room that is lined with mirrors so he can see how important he is while he talks.

There's a woman sitting near to me who is talking loud enough for the rest of us in this little area to hear. Her voice sounds like fingernails scraping a chalk board. She needs a room that echoes her voice so she can flinch like the rest of us. She just said, "Believe me, my reputation is very important to me." I can only wonder how she perceives her reputation.

Then we have the customers who are whining their unhappiness because of flights delayed for "weather." There's supposed to be a storm coming up the coast, but if it's clear in Boston, then it must be clear everywhere. These are folks who needs oval rooms where images of the universe revolve around them.

Oh good. She's about to get off the phone. Maybe I can continue to sit here in some peace.

Oh dear. She's punching in another number. I'm outa here.

Ponderings while the laundry dries.

I've spent the evening sitting on the roof of the convent reading, enjoying the breeze and the view, and waiting for my laundry to finish drying. I've been thinking about the past four months and what this sabbatical has done for me, how it's changed me, how it's renewed me. The are obviously quite a few intangible benefits; in fact, I can't think of one week since March 10 that hasn't brought a new learning or some down time or some new appreciation for God's creation.

I'll spend my last week at home reading through my on-line journal (the word 'blog' just doesn't seem to do it justice) and beginning to develop some actions for the future based on the past four months. Off the top of my head I think about my final refusal to walk but my commitment to bike; about the quiet time spent at St. Margaret's and how I can integrate prayer better into my daily life rather than letting daily tasks take control. Perhaps some sort of daily prayer commitment that helps me re-center the day and not be so scattered. I'm thinking about how much I've enjoyed reading and how this enjoyment might lead to some small reading-focused groups in the parish. At noon day prayer, I heard a wonderful excerpt on love from a book called The Monks of New Skete. I'm thinking about a small group of parishioners who are business people who might come together and talk about how their faith influences their daily work, their decisions, their relationships with staff and supervisors.

I'm thinking about how we're going to handle Rob's absence. That will be a major issue -- the parish must have two clergy to meet the pastoral, spiritual, and ministry needs of 400 people.

I'm thinking about the listening process in which so many parishioners participated. Grace,George, and Delphine are working their fingers off trying to get the final report finished. What will it say about who we are as a faith community and where we see ourselves over the next five years? What kind of challenges will we face? How will we renew our commitment to one another and to God?

Those are the things I'm thinking about today as my laundry dries and I try to solve the mystery of how to fit everything I have into two suitcases and a carry-on.

Beantown, Trip 3.

I’m now in Boston, having made the road trip yesterday in very good time, and including a stop at St. Andrew’s Church in Albany. It was at St. Andrew’s that I began attending an Episcopal church regularly, and it was at St. Andrew’s that I was received into the Episcopal Church in 1977. I guess that makes 30 years this year. Wow. I stopped to take a picture and found a new sign (new to me anyway) with words from the baptismal covenant on each side.
Those words are truly representative of the ministry of St. Andrew’s, a ministry that helped to form me as an Episcopalian and as a priest. As I was standing on the sidewalk, a man walked by. We exchanged greetings and I suddenly realized it was my friend, Kevin Dulin, whom I had known at St. Andrew’s and with whom I’ve kept in touch on a very irregular basis.

Since there are no coincidences, that’s when I decided that Jesus wanted me to be there on N. Main and Western Ave. After talking with Kevin, I walked into the church to see if Mary White, their rector was in. Didn’t expect her to be since clergy often take off Mondays, but she was there. We had a wonderful talk about her time at St. Andrew’s and what it’s like to be in the diocese of Albany. St. Andrew’s continues to be one of the parishes that is a progressive oasis in the midst of isolating conservatism. It was good to stand in the church and see the changes made; it was good to see the renovations on the second floor; and it was especially good to see some old friends – Bill Tatem, Curtis Wells, and Martha Iannacone. What a treat that hour was and how thankful I am that it turned out in such a nice way. After talking with Mary, I am convinced more than ever that we who are not in ACN dioceses need to be aware of the isolation of those progressive churches in those dioceses and make sure we find ways to reach out to them. They need to know that they haven’t been forgotten by The Episcopal Church.

I arrived at the convent in early afternoon to greetings of “Welcome home!” It was so good to finally be here and look forward to a few days of rest and debriefing with Sr. Carolyn, and of seeing my “sisters” again. Catching up with everyone was also good fun – and Sr. Mary Eleanor was kind enough to make many of us eggs – scrambled and fried – for dinner. (remember that Monday is the community Sabbath and everyone is one their own for meals). I had forgotten how good fried egg sandwiches are!

During the afternoon, though, I received some distressing news from the parish. One of our parish leaders, Paul Loo, had died while on vacation with his family in Scotland. Paul had just retired in April from a stellar career with Morgan Stanley, and was looking forward to this family trip taking a canal boat down the Thames.
We (not only the parish but the Honolulu community and beyond) are all in shock at the news. The memorial service will probably be on July 15 after his family returns from the British Isles and the mainland. The news not only stunned me, but I have been feeling a certain level of surreality for the past 24 hours. I can’t even begin to imagine how Vi and the rest of Paul’s family are doing. But thankfully they are together -- it’s a close family and they will support one another in their grief. I've been able to work with Paul's son Rodney and Gwen Pacarro at Morgan Stanley to begin coordinating the service.http://starbulletin.com/2007/06/26/news/story04.html

Laundry and packing and one more mailing are on the list for tomorrow, as are a final meeting with Sr. Carolyn and posting a blog about the past weekend. And then I’m off to Detroit on Thursday morning. Plane gets in around 1:30, so I’ll see you between 2:30 and 3:00, Julie!

A new experience with some old friends.

During seminary, a group of friends who gathered in White City (or Tent City as it's sometimes called) on Lake Ontario north of Rochester from points east and points west got into the habit of calling me Father Liz; sometimes just Fa. This was obviously good teasing and an inside joke for this particular group. They would even mail things to the seminary addressed to Father Liz; the office knew into which mail box those envelopes were to be deposited.

I was able to make a little extra money doing work on the house and yard of my friend with the house on the lake. One day, in the midst of standing on a ladder painting the screened-in porch, I dropped a can of beer into a newly opened can of paint. This was one of those you-had-to-be-there moments that has taken on apocryphal status in a group that has spent much time laughing and eating and drinking and just generally having an incredibly good time together.

The group has changed a bit over the years but there is a core group that has maintained the stories and the good times (although drinking and eating patterns have changed a bit as we’ve all gotten older).

This weekend some of the “old” group gathered at a larger house on the lake with some new friends to celebrate the blessing of a covenant between two of the women in the group. They’ve been together for 13 years, and recently went through the scare of one almost dying in the past year from botched surgery. On their way from central Illinois, they stopped in Niagara Falls and were married in a civil ceremony in Canada. They then drove on (with four of their Illinois friends) to Rochester to be met by six more friends. The blessing ceremony took place overlooking Lake Ontario. They wanted God’s blessing and presence in their life together (one was baptized just last December), and they wanted Father Liz and their friends to make that happen. And so we did.

As many clergy know, weddings are often extremely tense events with multiple expectations from both families, high drama, and absolute relief once the day is over. This event, however, was truly a touching ceremony – in the music, the words, the small gathering, the promises, and especially the couple and those present to support them. We spent the rest of the weekend celebrating with good food and drink, lots of laughter, and deep appreciation for the blessings of our lives and in particular for Connie and Peg’s covenant together.

On Sunday morning, the Illinois group left at 7. Betsy and I drove in the opposite direction to Schenectady and were home a little after noon. It was good to have the rest of the day to pack and relax before taking off the next morning for Boston. A quick run to Barnes and Noble (if there truly is such thing as a "quick" run to a bookstore), dinner at a local Thai restaurant, and home to finish packing some more Flat Rate postal boxes rounded out the weekend.

An unexpected chance to post.

I have a little break before the ceremony this afternoon so I can post some stuff I'd written over the past few days.

I just sent off 7 boxes of stuff to Hawai`i so I don't have to figure out how to fly it home with me. Three more boxes should do it. One of the best ways to ship stuff is with a flat rate box from the post office. $8.95 regardless of weight. Had I not done that, each box would have cost between $25 and $30. They'll get there probably the middle of next week. What a deal.

Had a good trip up to Whitehall to visit Carol on Wednesday. I do wish there weren't so many years between visits. But it was a real gift to spend a few hours with her and catch up. She's one of those rare friends who is a kindred spirit so it's easy to just move easily into conversation and laughter and everything else one enjoys with a friend. I also got some pretty neat photos that I'll post next week when I have internet access for my own computer.

Betsy and I went to a girls' softball game Wednesday evening -- the granddaughter of one of her colleagues was playing. Amazing to watch 11 and 12 year olds play fast-pitch softball. I wondered what that kind of stress puts on their muscles and bones, just as I wonder about young boys who fast-pitch. One of the treats was to see a bunch of 4 and 5 year old girls play. They're incredibly small and very earnest. Photos of them next week as well.

I'm off to the county jail in about an hour for a tour (this was Thursday afternoon. Betsy has asked me to wear my clericals because the officers and prisoners have a hard time believing her friend is a priest. So I'll put the dickey collar on under a blouse and just take it off when we're done with the tour. Haven't worn a collar in at least three months, I don't think.

And I have a few books that I'm moving through. Another Patterson thriller, of course. But also Krista Tippett's Speaking of Faith and Rainer Maria Rilke's Book of Hours: Love Poems to God. They are so very different -- all three of them -- but each one speaks to me at a different level, and right now I appear to be ready to hear what they're saying. Not so much Patterson, although I am amazed that I continue to read him with such voracity. But the other two as well. Tippett's is on a somewhat intellectual level, and Rilke's is poetry that comes out of an incredibly intimate relationship with God. I might search for an audio tape of some of Rilke's writings so I can listen in the car, as well.

Eleven more days and I'll be home to enjoy the last 6 days of my sabbatical. Miles to go before then, but I will be so ready to be home. I miss the consistency of the weather and the daily appearance of Sister Sun. I miss the sounds and brilliant colors of the birds, and the incredible sunrises over and Kokohead Crater. I miss Cranmer and Hooker and my little house. I miss my community of St. Clement's. And I miss the diversity of food. It's time to step back into my life.

Speaking of food, I had another chopped chicken liver sandwich and half sour pickles again for lunch. Gershon's is a real NY Jewish deli -- it smells like one, it has the right kind of food, and it's an integral part of the neighborhood. I especially like the way it smells when I walk in -- I don't think there is any place I know that can match that real deli aroma.

More journaling Sunday on the jail visit and my weekend in Rochester and maybe I’ll even post a bunch of photos of the past week.

The last hiatus.

Off to Rochester NY for the weekend. Will blog again early next week from Boston...

Hot Hot Hot.

It's hot in Schenectady. Hot hot hot. I even got a haircut today and I'm still hot. This reminds me of those times when I -- who view shopping malls as anathema -- would go to the mall or the movies just to be in air conditioning. That might happen later after Betsy gets home from work.

It's just way too hot. I don't even know the temperature and it doesn't matter. It's just too hot.

I've enjoyed riding around town and seeing how Schenectady is rebirthing itself after the major employment slashing at GE in the mid 80s. That really decimated the town (and is one of the reasons that Jack Welch was called Neutron Jack). But it's starting to come back with new initiatives and a new face. That's good to see. Even in this heat.

Betsy got news yesterday that she needs to move. Her landlord, who is also her niece, needs to move her 95-year-old grandmother into this lower flat so she (g-mother) is closer and can be cared for more constantly. This news was totally unexpected. The down side is that Betsy has to move by the end of August. The up side is that it gives her another opportunity to clear out more of her accumulated stuff. Betsy beats me hands down when it comes to books and stuff. Yes, I know that's hard to believe. But it's true. So doing another culling is one of the up sides to moving. She really wants to stay in this general neighborhood -- almost found one right down the street this morning, but it was taken yesterday afternoon-- and that shouldn't be too difficult. Renting a flat or apartment makes much more sense than a house, which would need a lot more caretaking. So apartment hunting is one of the objectives for this week. In the heat.

I'm driving up to Whitehall tomorrow to visit my friend, Carol Greenough. We've known each other for about 25 years, and don't get to see each other much. I think the last time was a couple of years ago. She works for the Village of Whitehall, the birthplace of the US Navy. It's a nice little village on the canal just below Lake Champlain and close to the Vermont border. It'll be a nice drive up tomorrow ---- in the air-conditioned car.


And now I'm going to find something cold to drink. It's hot.

On the road again...

These last two days I’ve had the opportunity to do something I used to really enjoy – long distance driving. Down Rt 1 from Camden to Freeport and another LLBean pilgrimage, and then onto 95 out of Maine and into New Hampshire and Massachusetts. While I was waiting to have my new bookbag/briefcase monogrammed at LLBean, I walked around town a little and found this terrific shop called Cool As A Moose. And I walked out with a few things that were begging to come back to Hawaii with me.

It really is a very freeing experience to just drive and drive and not feel restrained by time. One of the things I noticed driving in Maine are the church steeples that tower over each of the towns and villages. I see them before I even see the towns that are hidden by trees.

I listened to a couple of podcasts from NPR’s Speaking of Faith. I’ve gotten a bit hooked on that since being on sabbatical. The host , Krista Tippett, is very good at what she does and brings in guests from across the world’s religions as well as secular folks who talk about the interface between religion and science or some other secular field. She’s written a book called Speaking of Faith, based on her own background and how she ended up with this particular radio show. She’s a former journalist and diplomat who has woven her own spiritual journey into her understanding of the realms of the spiritual and the religious.

The latest podcast I’ve listened to twice now is Tippett reading portions of her book to a college audience. Kate Moose, who produced the program, says there’s a video on http://www.speakingoffaith.org/ of this particular program, as well as a study guide. This is definitely going to be an addition to St. Clement’s adult formation program – actually I think adult and teenage formation. I was especially intrigued by her reflections on Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Elie Wiesel, along with some references to Rilke and a comparison of Bonhoeffer with St. Augustine. She read a piece of text from Rilke that sounds very much like the statement that Jesus made to his disciples when they asked him the meaning of certain parables:

"Have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a foreign language. Do not search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live with them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer." From: Letter 4 of "Letters To A Young Poet" by Rainer Maria Rilke, July 16, 1903

I can't find the Gospel passage that has Jesus saying something similar. Maybe someone can come up with the citation and provide it. I find the idea that God has not revealed everything to us because we would be unable to handle it a fascinating concept that explains so much of what I consider the ongoing revelation of God in creation.

I’ve been thinking some more about my experience over the past two weeks. It was good in that I learned the process for some basics in furniture making. I also know that I will not expect others to go through what I did once I get a group together to build something. We’ll use jigs and routers to make simple prayer benches or prayer tables and they will be pieces of furniture that will reflect the care of each person making them. For myself, I’ll continue to work on handmade dovetails and mortises and tenons just because I need to conquer those skills for myself. The mortise-and-tenon work should come together nicely after a few more practices. The dovetails will not click for me until I can understand the integrated way the angles of the tails and pins fit together. It looks simple but until I can envision how a dovetail joint works, it will not click for me. So that is something I need to continue to pursue.

The other thing I was reminded of during the two weeks was the use of the words “easy” and “simple,” and the phrase “all you have to do is…” In my other life as an editor for Logical Operations, a computer training firm, one of the cardinal rules for the writers was to never use words like 'easy' and 'simple.' A task that is easy or simple for some is not easy or simple for others. To imply that it should be is to set the learner up for feelings of stupidity or ignorance or being less than capable. Fortunately for me, Nashaun, the college student who was assistant assistant gopher in the course, continued to encourage me and did not give up. That was important for my own self-esteem and ability to continue to work at learning. He is one young man who is innately patient and empathic.

If I were to go to the Center for Furniture Craftsmanship again, I would take the one-week course in turning. The results are much more immediate and there is a definite aspect of teamwork between craftsperson and machine. For the time being, however, I will look for a local woodworking course to continue to practice what I’ve learned and to have access to some adequate facilities.

I’m glad I was there for two weeks, and I’m still processing the spiritual and emotional learnings that challenged me. The other plus was meeting Nancy Lubin, in whose home I stayed. Along with speaking much the same communications language, she is also well versed in holistic medicine and natural and organic remedies. So I’ll pursue some of what she taught me by doing a bit of googling and trying out some of her suggestions. She’s a good person.

I also learned how comfortable it can be to travel alone -- eating in restaurants, amusing myself in various stores, meeting local people, and enjoying the solitude. That was especially important after spending 8 hours a day with 14 other people. I gained a little more self-assurance doing things that used to be awkward for me.

Did anyone hear that Mr. Wizard died? That came up a couple of times on NPR this weekend. His real name, I think, was Don Herbert, and his program was something many of us watched in the 1950s. He always had a couple of kids on who would help him with simple science experiments. Nothing deep or sophisticated – but then the 1950s weren’t a decade known for its sophistication. I was surprised to know that he was still alive…

This past week was also the anniversary of the Watergate break-in in the early 70s. I hope students still learn about that time in our history. It was definitely a turning point for how we view politicians, especially the person in the Oval Office. One of the things we lost in the aftermath of Nixon’s resignation was a given respect for the person in that office and perhaps even for the office itself. Daniel Schorr did the commentary on the anniversary because he was heavily involved as a journalist during that time and was even troublesome enough to be on Nixon’s list of “enemies.” He made more than a few comparisons with what’s happening in the Oval Office during W’s time – a message of “Those who don’t remember the lessons of history are doomed to repeat the mistakes.”

I took a lot of photos on the trip today from Chelmsford, MA to Schenectady. It’s hard to explain, but driving the Mass Pike, moving through the Berkshires and into the foothills of the Adirondacks was a wonderfully calming and uplifting experience. The changes in the landscape and the ability to drive for hundreds of miles without repeating any roads was and continues to be a wonderful adventure. Being away for over five years has helped me appreciate what I had when I lived in this part of the country. It would have been so easy to continue to drive south when I saw the sign that said Cape Cod 89 miles.

But I'm glad to be in Schenectady, to have a week with one of my oldest and closest friends. While she's at work, I'll do stuff I need to do -- like packing up boxes to send home ahead of my arrival -- and then we'll play when she gets home. Betsy's prisoner services coordinator at the Schenectady County Jail, so you might imagine the stories that she brings home with her.

For now, though, I'm going to walk down the street to Gershon's Deli and get a chopped chicken liver sandwich with a real dill pickle. What a treat!

A short respite...

Not posting tonight because I don't have easy access to the Internet. But I'll upload this weekend's blog and photos tomorrow morning....

Starting out on another leg of the journey.

I just took a visit to harveyandluna dot blogspot dot com. It's the blog of the canines who live with Susan Russell and Louise Brooks, who are currently in Hawai`i taking care of Cranmer and Hooker for me. The photos are terrific, as are the captions. Definitely worth a visit. I just love it that so many folks were willing to care for the boys and have a good time as well.

Today was the last day of basic furniture making. What an emotional roller coaster ride that was. Finally, about an hour before the end of the class, I got my dovetails to fit together. They looked like hell, but they fit. Not a moment too soon either. I was making plans to take them into the machine room and cut off the ends so I could start anew.

I am more determined than ever to learn these basic skills and learn them well. Soon after arriving home in July, I'll take a trip to the Woodcraft store in town and see what they have to offer in the way of classes or individual lessons. I will do this and do it well enough to teach others.

Tomorrow morning I leave for the trip west to Schenectady and upstate NY. First, though, a second pilgrimage to LLBean, and then I'll spend the night at the Raddisson in Shrewsbury before driving another three hours or so to the other side of the Hudson. At some point, I'll need to stop at a laundromat. I have exactly one clean t-shirt left.


We had a class picture taken today....

The next challenge is going to be shipping the cherry wood and tools home. I already have a couple of boxes of books ready to go. But I'll deal with that in Schenectady.

This has definitely been an adventure in many ways. I was fortunate to be placed in a most welcoming home with a terrific family -- it couldn't have done better. I met some good people in the class and suspect I'll see some of them again when they visit Hawai`i. And I was challenged in ways I never expected. I thought I'd build a little bench, bring it home, show it off, and teach others how to do it. Boy was I surprised. I will be building some jigs to make the production of mortises and tenons less frustrating and will look into a less frustrating method of making dovetails. The process of handmaking both of these joints is really important to understand. And that is something that I finally got. But it will be a very long time indeed before I forget what it felt like to feel humiliated and how thin the line is between that and humility. A very long time.

Lots of stuff still going on in the Episcopal Church and the Anglican Communion. A couple of blogs of interest that I recommend: http://episcopalmajority.blogspot.com/ and http://www.blogger.com/www.episcopalcafe.comBetween the two of them, the information and commentary regarding TEC and the Anglican Communion are reliable and balanced and they will also recommend other sites to pursue for more in-depth info.


Finally, June 18 is fast approaching. If you remember, buttons that proclaimed It's A Girl! were passed out on that day as the election of Katharine Jefferts Schori as new PB was announced. That's also the day that Elizabeth Grace Cover Thompson was born in Ann Arbor.

My niece just put together a wonderful little slide show of Lizzie's first year. If I can figure out a way to share it, I will.

In the meantime, I'm going to sign off, read a little bit, and get to bed so I can be on the move between 9 and 10 tomorrow morning. And of course nothing is packed. Why mess up a perfectly good evening with something that I can rush around doing in the morning?!

Day 13

Yes, Betsy, I did think about how quickly you'd be back at the ranch with a book! But think about how you managed to appreciate the various shows we went to in London. Rather than doing the whining, you figured out how to appreciate. I think that's what's happening here. It's not a matter of can't but how.

And it's still a struggle -- even figuring this stuff out intellectually, I deal constantly with feelings of inadequacy. But I'm getting through them.

It's been interesting to watch, as well, the attention of the assistants to what I'm doing. Monday, it seemed like Fred was at my bench every 10-15 minutes. Tuesday and Wednesday, he acted like I didn't exist. THAT was weird. I mentioned something to Fred about keeping his distance all day Tuesday, and he had a pretty weak answer like, "I wanted to stay out of the way of your follow-through..." Not sure what was going on other than he might have seen helping me as pretty useless. I mentioned it to Peter in another conversation yesterday. But I also just didn't bother asking Fred for help. He did start attempting to make conversation late yesterday afternoon. That just made me smile. Maybe this is just a Mars/Venus thing. We'll see what today brings.

Nashaun was good; even Peter was helpful. I find that it's really important for me to make the mistakes, try to figure out how to get out of them without discarding the wood, and then figure out what the next steps are. I'll go in this morning and work on the other leg. I hope to get it done by noon, and then clean up the shmutz in both sets of dovetails so I can move to making pins.

I do think a router with appropriate jigs is the way to go once I get home.

We'll see.