Looking back on the year

I started 2009 praying about whether or not I should work toward being ordained as a deacon. Just after New Year's Day, my discernment committee met for the first time, and the journey was officially on its way. But, like any trip that starts out without a map, an itinerary and a plan, there was no way to know exactly where I'd go or where it would end. I started the year feeling pretty uncertain, but open to whatever lay ahead.


The year went by pretty fast. Just looking at the discernment process, we finished meeting in May, and the group felt that God was calling me to move forward, but that I also needed to keep praying, and keep working on some things. In May, I started meeting with a spiritual director. By July, I had taken all the tests I had to take and was waiting for further news. By the end of July, I was feeling something was not going right, and was praying for sight to see what God wanted me to do. By August, I had decided to stop and wait and not go forward with the meetings, tests and retreat. And by October, when I met with my friend Deacon Debbie Harrington, I had become so focused on my work in Trinity and at school, felt so at peace within myself, that when she asked me if I was having any regret about withdrawing from the process, I had to stop and think. No, there was absolutely no regret, just a feeling of abiding peace and happiness at the direction my life was headed.


I am looking forward to 2010. I have two new projects at Trinity that will start in January. One is a weekly Bible study group and another is a quarterly book group. Both will use my talents as a teacher, talents others have seen in me as my true calling from God. And Bible study will hep me fulfill one of the weak areas in my spiritual life-- having a good understanding of and familiarity with God's Word.


I've also made room in my life for more peace and less stress. For the past few years I've taken on more and more administrative tasks at my work and been teaching less. The admin. stuff is not where my heart lies, and while I'm good at it, it's stressful and not fulfilling. I'll go back to full-time teaching this spring while letting most of the admin. work slow to a trickle. By the summer, I plan to be a teacher alone, with minimal committee work. This also fills my heart, knowing I'll be connecting with my students even better and without the burdens of the other work on my back.

The past year has also been fulfilling with my family and friends. I grew closer to my sister as her wedding approached, and it was wonderful to see her and her husband so happy on their big day. I also reconnected with my dad this year, and continue to have a great relationship with my mom. All three of them were very supportive as I went through the discernment process. This journey also opened up new conversations between my husband, Paul, and I, and even with my other family members as I kept them updated on what was happening with my tests and meetings, and asking them for prayers and advice.


I've made wonderful new friends through Trinity this year, and been with new and old friends through good and bad times. I've prayed with friends who have lost close family members and continue to struggle with those losses. I've celebrated as old friends have safely returned from far places and dark places. I've reached out to newcomers who have become close friends, and let go of some people who were ready to move on. All of them have been blessings to me, and I pray that I've been a blessing to them.


A lot of people take stock this time of year, looking back at the events of the past, and looking forward into the dim light of the new year. This year I know I'll grow and change and have good and bad experiences. I'll make mistakes and learn from them. I'll help people and try not to hurt anyone, although that's probably bound to happen, too, no matter how hard I try. I might move forward with the ordination process, or I might find that my work in the church and world is just where I need to be. Every new year is a mystery. But what a wonderful mystery! I pray for all the best for all of you, and the understanding that no matter what happens, God is always with us all.

So Grateful

Don't. Ask. For ANYthing.

This was the refrain that my mom would recite when taking me and my sister into a store. Grocery store. Clothing store. Convenience store. She was kind not to torture us with toy stores unless we could get something, but that was rare. This has been so ingrained in me, that I have a hard time asking for things in general. There might be other reasons, but this seems logical.

Like when my dad took my sister and Paul and I up to Estes Park one summer day a few years ago. Estes is a tourist town with lots of little shops. Alicia and I admired jewelry and some art, and Paul liked a sports shirt. Paul asked me if he could get it, and I said no because we weren't making much money then. My dad got it for him. Alicia and I, who hadn't asked for anything, didn't get anything. It never occurred to us to ask. So we just jokingly pestered Paul for weeks afterward about how Dad liked him better than us.

That's maybe not the best example, but it's pretty representative. I don't like to ask for help, for gifts, for anything. I can do or get things on my own, and if I can't get it for myself, I don't need it. This drives Paul crazy, because I'm stingy with myself. If Paul says he needs a pair of jeans, we go get them. I'll live with my jeans until they fall apart. I just realized this week that my one black skirt is getting a little worn. I've had it for seven years. Who knows when I'll get around to getting a new one, as long as I can make this one work.

You might be wondering what this has to do with a blog on discernment. (Sorry, awkward segue.) But, this affects my prayer life too.

I keep a prayer journal. Every night, I write kind of like Anne Frank did to her diary Kitty, but I write to God. I start with being thankful for something from my day, and then I ask for things, always for others. For example tonight's entry will probably look something like this:

Thanks for the warm fall day today, and the cool night last night. Sleeping with windows open is great! Tonight I pray for ____, my single friends who want companionship, my family, ____, Trinity, and for my student who's having a rough time. Thank you for all the blessings I have, like my marriage and my pets who are cuddled around me.

Sometimes my entries are longer, but for each prayer, I hold the person or people in my heart for a moment before writing the next prayer. The closest I get to asking for things for myself is usually to ask for things for both Paul and I, like help with budgeting, or with s fight we've had.

It's not that I don't need anything. Far from it. And it's not that I am so great I can't use some help. In fact, there are a lot of things in my life that only God can help me with. Like being patient. Or keeping a reign on my swearing. Or knowing what to do in any given moment. Or being kind to people who really, really bother me. There's plenty. But for some reason I find it hard to ask.

I talked about this with my spiritual director, Carol, today. She's written a book on prayer, and she's working on one about personal prayer, asking for God for things for ourselves. She admitted that it can be hard to pray for ourselves, for as easy as it is to pray for others. I at least seven people, if not more, that I pray for each night, and sometimes whole groups of people, like Iraqis or soldiers if I've heard that there's been an attack or a disaster somewhere. But it's hard for some people to tell God, "Hey, I need some help with this," or admit that we're worthy of the same help we ask for others. I think part of it is that I know I've got it good in this life. I have a house, a husband, health, food, and fun stuff. I have friends who are missing any one of things, and thus, I'm not as worthy of prayer as they are.

One of the blessings of spiritual direction, is that the person doing the directing is also doing a lot of praying. Carol starts our sessions with silent prayer, and usually I start talking to god as I do in my journal, saying thanks for things, and thinking about the people who I know need prayer. But at the end, after we've talked about what's going on, and she's given me some ideas, she prays aloud for me. She says my name, and asks God for all things we've talked about. She asks God to give me patience, and wisdom and blessings. She asks for help my students to be open, for me to know how to help them. And it feels so good, like getting a present, for her to do that for me.

I'm going to start trying to ask for things for myself, not extravagant things, but things I need, like patience and wisdom. We'll see how it goes. Who knows, maybe I'll get used to it, and see where things go from there.

Not a Final Destination

Every road trip I've ever been on has had an end destination. We traveled back and forth from Tucson to northern Ohio during the summers when I was a kid. We drove to Disneyland. I drove to my mom's house in Colorado from northern Wisconsin and Minnesota when I was in college and grad school. Paul and I have driven all over the Midwest and parts of the south. But I've never had one of those road trips where someone leaves the house without a map, without a final destination in mind. That's mainly because I'm type-A and I wouldn't like that.

That's also probably why when I started questioning my path to deaconhood, I felt really queasy. I had felt like there was a map in my hand, pointing me to a final destination of ordination. But all of a sudden it was like the map was swept out the car window, and I didn't have GPS or OnStar or even a passenger to ask for help. There were no roadsigns, and all I could do was stop at the gas station and get quizzical looks from attendants, all of whom had different ideas on how to find my way.

I had emailed a lot of friends and asked family for insight. All of them said to listen to what my heart was saying, to God in my heart. But it felt like God was being really quiet. He was like a passenger who falls asleep while you're driving. He's there, but He's not giving input. Plus, He doesn't wake up for just anything.

I decided after all this questioning to take a break. One of the concerns my discernment committee had was that I've been moving so fast, and while I was making time for the deaconate training I'd undergo, I might burn out. My mom is always one to tell me that I take on too much. Paul does too. Part of me felt guilty, that I was letting Trinity down, or the discernment group, or Fr. Charlie, or even myself. But my health and well-being need to be taken care of. I won't help anyone if I don't help myself first.

I made this decision before school started back, but life has been hectic. School starting, my sister getting married, and just everyday life have kept me running, and kept me away from the blog. I'm praying that I will find time to reflect and keep moving on this journey. I'm looking at this as a stop at a really cool roadside attraction, but definitely not the final destination.

Speed Bump Ahead

My neighborhood is full of speed bumps. Not those asphalt ones parking lots have that jar passengers’ teeth, but wide rises in the road that gently lift the car up and over. When we first moved here, we had to be attentive and go really slowly over them, but now that we’re used to them, we slow down without even thinking.

I’m using a lame metaphor here for the bumps we have in life. I’ve had a busy, busy life for several years in a row now, more busy than I’ve been ever before. I’ve been used to hitting a bump, ignoring it, and moving on. I double scheduled meetings? One quick call usually settles that. I somehow signed up for coffee hour the same morning I’m helping on the altar and doing the readings? No problem. I’ll just ask someone for help and push through.

I’ve finally reached a bump that’s made me take some notice, that’s sent my shocks squeaking. It’s not a bump that I can just smooth over with a phone call. I suppose it’s one that I could push through, but the consequences of doing that will be more than just a rushed Sunday morning. I’ve come to a point in my discernment process that is making me stop and wonder if I should keep moving forward.

I can’t go into too much detail, but the bump has to do with one of the many tests that I have had to take. The results came back showing the need for another longer, more in-depth test to get some new results to help the diocese make a decision about my strength in going into holy orders. I’m not opposed to taking more tests, per se. It’s not that I don’t think I can do it and do well. It’s just…well…this nagging feeling.

I’ve had some nagging feelings from the beginning, but they were quieted after talking to other deacons, or after being encouraged to move forward, or after people said they had faith in me. But I’ve moved on, trusting that the right things would happen. This snag has been one that is calling me stop, listen to God, and pray really, really hard.

I’ll be listening, praying, and asking for insight from friends and family. I have to come to a decision soon— there’s a deadline looming.

Testing...testing...

Do you get all queasy and uneasy before a test? The bad night's sleep the day before, the upset stomach, the sweaty palms, the urge to run out of the room once it's started? I don't have these problems, and I've always counted myself lucky. Either I know what I need to do, or I don't. Either I'm going in the right direction, or I'm not. I knew there were going to be tests in the process of discernment, and I've had the same faith with the required tests as I have taking any other tests in my life.



Last week and this week have been The Weeks of Tests. It started last Tuesday with a Diana Screening. I went to a counselor's office for this one. I had to answer some multiple choice questions about my hobbies, interests, career interests, and about my interest in children. I love kids when they are well-behaved and someone else's who can take them away when they aren't well-behaved. So I said I rarely enjoy teaching kids things, and rarely want to spend my free time with them. Kids are not my calling. Then I had to look at a lot, something over 200, photos of people of all shapes, sizes and ages in bathing suits. And some occasional photos of women's underwear, and a couple of creepy ones of men's hands on women's tushes or people fully clothed but tied up and looking very uncomfortable. I had to rank the photos as being sexually unattractive or attractive. I'm not turned on by small children, men's hands on women's tushes, or people being tied up. Yeay for not being a pedophile, a creepy old man, or a sado-masochist.



After that test, I hoofed it over to my internal medicine doc for a physical. She gave me a hearing test she said she's never been required to give. She chalked it up to the Bishop wanting to know I can hear grumbling old ladies across the parish hall. My reflexes and all my stats were fine. I did the standard blood and urine tests. All normal, no worries. Passed everything with flying colors, so I can stay on my diet and exercise plan, and keep going about my business.



Then this week Monday, I went for my psychological tests at church. Fr. Charlie proctored them for me, and the company that scores them had sent him all the test materials and directions. I was told in my paperwork that the tests would take 4-6 hours, and that I would be given a quiet place to take the tests. I didn't think it would take that long, and I wasn't worried about the quiet place. In fact, I was running late from a leisurely morning spent reading, writing poetry and window shopping, so my hubby Paul dropped me off at 12:30 without my having had lunch. I found a big piece of cake leftover from coffee hour, got a glass of water, and found Fr. Charlie.



He is so sweet. He set up a "desk" for me in the upstairs choir room with a great view of the church garden and street, with a pile of scrap paper, pens and sharp pencils. He came up and asked if I had any questions, and went over the directions. I said a quick prayer before I dove in. I had ten minutes for each of the first two tests. One was a 30 question multiple choice vocabulary test, and the other asked me to complete 30 sentences like "My ideal man ____," and "Depression____." I was done with both in less than ten minutes. I know lots of words, and the sentences end with "doesn't exist," and "sucks" respectively.

Then, I had to a 650 true/false personality inventory called the Minnesota Multiphasic personality Inventory. That was fun. It's the kind of test that keeps asking the same exact questions over and over with some different ones tossed in so that it can see if you are consistent in your answers. Do I want to a be a nurse? No. Did I change my mind 50 questions later? No. Do I think about my poop often? No. Did I want to change my answer two pages later? No.

To my delight, I got to do a 400 question true/false personality test almost completely identical to the MMPI, called the California Psychological Inventory. The CPIU asks a lot of the same exact questions as the MMPI. Do I want to be a nurse? Still, no. Do I think a lot about my poop? Again, still no. At least this one was 200 questions shorter than the MMPI. Yippee!

There were a couple of other tests in there too. One was an adjective test where I just marked boxes next to adjectives I'd use to describe myself. Smart-ass wasn't on there, but sarcastic was. I checked it off. I'm honest. I can't recall the others too well except for an analogy/matching/pattern test, but about 90 minutes in, I was done, cooked. I finished all the tests in just two hours. This was supposed to take 4-6 hours, remember? No way.

So, I'm thinking that the tests will come back and say that I'm pretty good with words, not so much with numbers. I don't want to be a nurse/cop/surgeon, but I like science. I am not overly concerned with feces, sex, or children. Tah-dah!

I get a breather from tests for a bit now. I think at this point, I wait for the Bishop to call me. "Kristin, I know you're not psychotic, so could you come and meet me for a conversation this week?" "As long as there's no tests," I'll say. I feel kinda queasy.

Keep Puttin' It Off

I keep trying to work on this entry, the one about the reservations the discernment committee had, and it keeps not coming out right. I keep starting and revising, and then throwing away my draft and starting over. I finally asked myself why I am doing this when my husband asked me when I plan on posting again. I can't write a new post until this one is done. And I don't want to do it.

It's hard to face our faults. I mean really face them. It's easy to say, "I have a sweet tooth and can't steer clear of chocolate," or "I really need to exercise more," when we try to put on a pair of jeans that's a little too tight. But to bear our inner faults with the whole cyber-world that might stumble upon it and judge me? That's a bit harder.

I have two faults that I have always struggled with in my life. One is my lack of enthusiasm for authority for authority's sake, and the other is that I don't think before I speak. The latter isn't a huge problem since I rarely run into those kinds of authority figures anymore. My job is pretty autonomous thanks to a little thing called "academic freedom" whereby my department chair and other bosses don't micro mange me. But when I was a kid, teachers, principals, most adults and their, "you have to do this because you're a kid and I'm an adult and I said so," never flew with me. I spent a lot of time being in trouble for resisting, pretty needlessly, the very people who wanted me to succeed.

But being a deacon means being a servant, and sometimes to people who can rile me, aggravate me, or just push my buttons. I'm not going to like everyone I encounter on this journey. But, I take comfort in knowing that I don't like all my students, but I manage to put on a smile when I walk into class and treat them all with respect, whether they respect me or not. So I think I can pray and be led in the right direction as far as knowing I need to lead and follow, not just lead.

The other part is harder to deal with. As I just said, even though I don't like all my students, I manage to be respectful to all of them. But thinking before I speak? It's like asking an ocean wave to please not come so far ashore. It's like requesting a dead skunk not to smell. It's like telling a wolf not to eat you because you're not going to taste good. It's like..... well, you get the point.

I say things I shouldn't on a daily basis. I do it everywhere and at any occasion. I'm a non-biased put-her-foot-in-her-mouth-gal. I have angered people because of this. I've probably hurt many people's feeling because of this. It was usually not intentional, but whether it was or not, it's something I need to work on. Silence and consideration of my words.

So I'm praying for help with this, and everything else in this process, as I wait the next phase. Right now, all my paperwork, including the committee's, Fr. Charlie's, and the vestry's reports, and my transcripts, and resume, are waiting in a file. Someone is running background checks, and credit checks, and I'll be called at some point for a physical and psychological examination. Then I'll meet with any series of people at the diocese, from the Archdeacon to the Canon to the Ordinary to the Bish himself. And I'll have to answer their questions, thoughtfully and carefully, not flying off the handle about anything.

So please pray for me and my big mouth. Not that it needs to be smaller, just a little more shut a little more often.

First Gate Cleared!

My discernment committee has deciphered the call that I'm receiving as a call to the deaconate! Yeay! Woohooo! Yowza! Ha cha cha!


Okay, now that that's out of my system, let me clarify what they said. There were no balloons, or confetti, or uncorking bottles of bubbly. I came to the meeting after the group had already convened to make their final decision. I got to Rick's house (Rick was the chair and the host for the meeting), was greeted and ushered into the living room where everyone was chatting. I sat down after our hellos, and Rick said they had come to a decision. I said, "okay," or something like it, equally lame, and someone asked if I wanted to know what the decision was. It was going to come sooner or later, but part of me was really scared of knowing. Move forward? Is that good? Go back? It that better or worse? But I mustered a smile, and said, "Sure," and they said I should keep going. But...


Let me emphasize the "but" here. The group has reservations about my moving forward. Now, I've had many people express reservations about me, so this is not a new sensation. I almost had to do first grade over again because my teacher wasn't sure I was ready because I wouldn't do my work-- I'd hand in blank worksheets. I almost didn't make it out of of fifth grade for the same reason, and I told my teacher off. I was allowed to get my first master's degree, but with the caveat that I not go on for Ph.D. work because the faculty didn't think I was ready for that. I got tenure at JJC, but with the Vice President's concern that my teaching practices were unorthodox and of concern to him.

So I get to move on to the next step, applying and meeting with the Canon to the Ordinary (assistant to the bishop) and the bishop. I'll write more about the reservations soon, but I wanted to get the good news out. I'm moving forward! Praise the Lord!

The Ride

I was on a rollercoaster once when I was about 10. It didn’t make me sick until I had a nightmare about it that night, and I had to get up to run to the bathroom. My family and I figured I wasn’t rollercoaster material, and I didn’t ride one for years. Then, when I was 28, Paul and I went to Six Flags for our anniversary. I wanted to try riding a coaster, and we got in line for the first one we came across—Mr. Freeze from the Batman comics. We had to go into a building to get in line, and the cars came into the building, shooting out a tube, and then returning the same way. So you went out facing forward, and shot back in facing backward. I wasn’t paying attention at all to the cars or how they came and went, but Paul was, and he knew better than to say anything and risk my freaking out and not getting on. So we strapped in, and then were shot out a tube going 75 m.ph. There were two corkscrew turns that left the cars shooting up a spire, then back down in reverse. The whole ride took about 30 seconds. For the whole ride I screamed things I don’t care to print here. I was shaking when we got out off the ride, but figured no rollercoaster could be worse than that, so I rode a bunch more that day until neither Paul nor I could get on one more without being sick.

The past few weeks have been like a rollercoaster-- one like Mr. Freeze. I can’t blame work, which has been smooth, or my husband’s being laid off, which we were praying for. It’s all been about the discernment process, which has taken me places I had not expected to go.

Looking back at my first entries (see “Trepidation” in November 2008), I had written about my concerns about the discernment process, and my path to being a deacon. Two of the problems I had were that I knew I might have to change as part of the process, and also, that I don’t need to be a deacon. I think these were the two biggest obstacles, but at the time, I wasn’t sure that I even had obstacles. I’ve been telling myself this whole time that the call to be a deacon didn’t come from me—it came from the Holy Spirit working in others. I rationalized that this meant that I wouldn’t be heartbroken if I kept to my current way of life as a lay person if the discernment process led me and the committee to believe that deacon-hood isn’t for me, at least for right now. But things have changed. I have changed.

Here’s where the rollercoaster metaphor comes in. On the old-fashioned wooden rollercoasters, you can see, pretty much, where you’re going. There’s the big drop after the first rise, but you can see the bottom, and the first curve coming up. On Mr. Freeze, part of the thrill is there is no drop, and it moves so fast riders can’t tell where it’s going. As I strapped myself into my seat for the discernment process, I thought that I would answer questions honestly, the group would think about my answers, and we’d move through the discussion discovering where my life should be going. I told myself I was open to whatever decisions and curves came my way. If the ride ends with me getting off and going home, that was fine. If it ends and I get to go back in line for another ride, that’s great too.

But the ride has gone on for much longer than I expected. Not that I didn’t know this process would last through June, but you know the feeling when the stomach and body say, “Enough, we want off this ride,” but you’re not near the end? That’s the way I’m feeling. I have answered the questions I’ve been given honestly, but then I wonder if I couldn’t have answered them more clearly, more succinctly, more coherently. Did I even answer them at all, or did I go off on a tangent? Was my tone rational and even as I gave an answer? Should I have been more emphatic or less so? Was it okay to be emotional? Why did that question make me so edgy?

But while I want off the ride, I also want to get back on again, for another shot at it. Somewhere along the line my whole attitude of “whatever the Holy Spirit wants” and “this isn’t coming from me, so I don’t mind if it ends” has changed. I want to be a deacon. The call that originated outside of me has awakened the call within me. I will mind, at least a little, if the group comes to the conclusion that I’m not ready yet. And there are good reasons for me not to be ready yet. I’ve filled my life with work, and while I am making real progress to not fill it up any longer, there’s a risk that I will shift back that way. But, I know in my heart that I want to fill my life doing God’s work, not just work-work. Another problem I have is that I sometimes (okay, oftentimes) speak without thinking, which can mean I step on people’s toes sometimes, or that I put my foot in my mouth. I can try to work on that too, but even then, no deacon is perfect.

So I’ve been feeling a little queasy about the process lately, but it’ll pass. I can’t believe how fast time has gone, how much I’ve grown both in this call and in my prayer life and my life as a whole. I have been listening to God and the Holy Spirit in ways I never thought I would. I’ve changed for the better, so no matter what path I am on, I’m moving in the right direction.

Just when I thought I was smart...

So I was at a training session for Lay Eucharistic Ministers (LEM) at church this past weekend, and I had a bit of an epiphany, or maybe even more than one. I should start by clarifying what a LEM is. At our church, they are the people who take the consecrated host and wine to people who can’t make it to church on Sunday. At other churches LEMs are the people who help at the altar. So in case anyone needed to know, that’s what that is at Trinity, and that’s what I was being trained for.

Anyway, part of our training included going over what happens at the Eucharist so we understand the magnitude of the work LEMs do. While we were going over the service in the prayer book, Fr. Charlie asked us what we believe happens during the sacrament. So I jumped in and said something about how I was raised Catholic and thus was raised to believe in transubstantiation. We had been joking about some church words being more expensive than others, like “liturgical” being a $5 word, so I threw in that transubstantiation is a $10 word. It’s a biggie. And Fr. Charlie asked me to explain what it meant to make sure I wasn’t just opening my vocabulary wallet and showing a bunch of Monopoly money as the real thing. If you are Catholic and went to Catholic school, you can define this word while you balance cups on your head and at the same time work a hula hoop while standing on a balance ball. I spouted out that it means that the bread and the wine become the actual body and blood of Christ, that they are changed (trans) into the flesh and blood (substance). This led to a short side conversation about ritual cannibalism and what other issues people have with this belief. Fr. Charlie got us back on track by joking that I’d get the gold star for knowing my terms if we gave out gold stars, and asked us what else the Eucharist can mean.

Another member of our group spoke up next. This woman is a wonderful help in church, from volunteering at our soup kitchen to helping in the office every week to singing in the choir. And this woman is one of the most humble people, and caring, you could ever meet. She has been bringing the consecrated bread to a woman who can not come to church due to the cold and ice and snow for fear she’ll fall and be hurt. She said something like this:

I don’t know about the expensive words and I’m not educated like Kristin, but when I bring the bread to this woman, after I’ve given it to her, she just gets a look of peace on her face. It’s as if she takes a deep breath and relaxes after she’s been given the bread. It’s magical and holy and wonderful.

This was my first epiphany. I may know the $10 words, but that isn’t what the Eucharist is about. It’s about the mystical quality and holiness of being “fed with the spiritual food” of this sacrament. Fr. Charlie went on to explain the spectrum of beliefs surrounding this sacrament, and pointing out that both of us who responded were right, but that we were touching on different aspects of the spectrum. I’ll add that one of us did it much more eloquently and with feeling. That person wasn’t me.

But this wasn’t the end of the epiphanies. The next day, Sunday, I was serving on the altar. I had given Fr. Charlie the chalice and helped him wash his hands. He had handed me the water pitcher and the other items he didn’t need, and I had gone back to my post beside the altar. I listened as he said the prayers over the hosts and wine, lifting each up at the right time, and I heard the Sanctus bells ring at the right moment. But at some point when he was going through the prayers, a voice in my head said very loudly, “You don’t believe in transubstantiation. You’ve just been parroting that because it was what you’ve been taught.” Wow. Just like that. I don’t believe that. I don’t. After the priest and the congregation have prayed for the world, said the words from the Last Supper, and said the Great Amen, I think the bread and wine are special and blessed and holy, like holy water in Baptism, but they’re not flesh and blood. At least not to me. Who knew? Not me, evidently, and not my friends who sat with me the training the day before.

It doesn’t mean that the sacrament is less special to me now; in fact, I thought about my revelation a lot that day, and it’s been on my mind throughout the week now. It is special. It’s so special that I am prayerful in giving the wine to people at the altar. It’s not passing out drinks at a party. It’s so special that I understand why we don’t toss out the bread after we’re done, but we eat it all or make sure the birds do. It doesn’t go to the garbage disposal or the waste bin. And the wine gets finished off or poured onto the ground, the earth God created. It doesn’t get put back with the wine that hasn’t been prayed over. And it means that taking the host and wine to someone who cannot be at church, someone who needs them so much that he or she asks for them to be carried to the nursing home or apartment, is a very special and humbling task.

Just when I thought I was secure in my beliefs, that I could put them down on paper, as I’ll have to shortly as an assignment for my discernment committee, I was wrong. I do need to think carefully about the difference between what I’ve been taught to believe and what I really do. There is a difference. And the true beliefs are what I need to cull out and ponder. I guess I’ve got some work to do.

I just remembered...

We had our first discernment committee meeting this week. Most of what we covered, I was expecting. I’ve been reading a lot about the diaconate in the past two months or so, so most of the information went right along with that, and I’ve served on a discernment committee before, so it was what I remembered, more or less. I will go into the logistics of what this committee is and what it will do, but I wanted to write about something that the meeting triggered for me this week.

First a little background info. I grew up Catholic, and was in the same church from Baptism until I moved away to go to college. And I went to K-8 at the church, so church and school were the same for me, same place and same people and same worship twice a week for most of my life. Then priests all knew me and my parents were really active in helping with youth group and my mom made banners and helped at school, so I was in touch with a lot of people whether I wanted to be or not.

There wasn’t a huge population of nuns in my church since by then fewer people were going into Holy Orders, and nuns had become a bit more liberated, so they weren’t all as easily recognizable as nuns. Some of them wore veils and dark clothes, but none wore those habits we tend to think of nuns traditionally wearing. There were a few, but not many, nuns teaching in my school, but the principal was always a nun. I took for granted that they were there, that they lived in a house and shared a car just like the priests had a house, but each had his own car. I didn’t think about becoming a nun much, but I didn’t think much at those ages about careers or callings to Holy Orders. Plus, the nuns’ car was orange and had plaid seats, which wasn’t cool. I didn’t analyze it much, but you can tell what stuck with me. That vow of poverty was embodied in an orange car with plaid seats.

But this is what I remembered this week. The priests, or others, or my parents, realized that there was something different about me. I had leadership qualities and a spiritual side. I liked church, the liturgy and ceremony of it. And I liked people, being in front of them and participating. So during my freshman year in high school, I was chosen to part of a diocesan group of youth, girls and boys, who met at the diocese offices to pray, study and discern if we were called for holy orders. I don’t think that was ever voiced in that way, maybe it was called a “leadership” group or something, but I participated in it for at least a year. It never came to anything, and by sophomore year, my best friend I knew we could never be nuns because of that whole chastity thing. We liked boys way too much for that.

I remembered this group as I was thinking about the committee this week, probably as I was driving or doing dishes. But this memory triggered an even earlier one.

When I was really small, maybe before my sister was born when I was five, small enough that I had to stand on the kneeler because if I kneeled I couldn’t see anything, I would mimic the priest at the altar during the Eucharist. I mouth the words he’d say, and hold up my hands like I was holding up the chalice and host. This isn’t anything weird, probably, since I’ve seen Fr. Charlie’s little daughter do this too at different times during coffee hour with the small altar in our parish hall. But I don’t remember seeing kids in church do it very often. They are usually interested in anything but what is going on up there like what color lipstick Mom has in her purse, or where the crayons are to color in the hymnal. My sister would dance in the aisle during the procession as her form of participation, but that’s not the same. And sadly, I had no chance to be at the altar as a kid since girls weren’t allowed to serve. And nuns don’t serve at the altar, so when I was mimicking, there would have been no hope for me to ever be up there except as a person to come up afterwards and help hand out the hosts and the wine.

I don’t why I bring this up except as a comment to Chas’s comment on my last posting. He mentions that he has watched me grow deeper in my journey. Maybe I’m not going deeper, but going back. Anyone who knows me well knows that I have a child-like quality even though I can be very mature. Maybe as I go through this process I’m connecting with something my child-self knew but couldn’t possibly interpret or analyze. I wanted to be a part of that mystery on the altar, a mystery I was barred from even taking part in at all until after my First Communion in second grade. And somewhere in that childhood others recognized that maybe I was supposed to be on this path, but the path just then wasn’t right for me, and wasn’t the right path. A whole series of forks lead us into our adult lives, but all those forks are connected. I’m really interested to see what comes of this new, clearer discernment that I have been called to, and what forks are up ahead for me.

But seriously folks....

I’ve been a little off-hand in some of my posts, and I just wanted to assure everyone that I know this calling is serious stuff. I did grow up in a serious Catholic Church, Our Mother of Sorrows, so I know about being serious. If that’s not a serious name to be under for all of one’s formative years, I don’t want to know the name of the church that could beat it.

Last week’s Gospel reading was about God’s call to Mary. And during his sermon, Fr. Charlie spoke about how Mary took her call so seriously and without any ducking around it. So many of the people in the Bible who got calls said things like, “Hey, I’m not the guy for this job,” or, “Are you really serious?” in the lingo of their day. Only Mary says that she will do God’s will without so much as a shrug or a look to see if she was the one being spoken to. Sometimes I’ve thought that if a talking bush or cloud or an angel would show up for me, it would make things so much easier. In fact, that is one of the funniest things to me about the Old Testament. One character asks God to perform three tasks to make sure that it’s really God’s voice he’s hearing. It would be akin to me hearing a voice coming through my ceiling and my saying, “Okay, if you’re really God, when I get home from work, I expect the carpet to be vacuumed,” and when I get home, the place is spotless. Then, I say, “Okay, so just to make sure, when I get tomorrow, I want this place to look like about 15 dogs had a shedding party,” and behold, my house is covered in fur the next evening. But then I’m stuck with a mess, so I ask one more time for God to vacuum, and He does. As if the whole voice from above wasn’t enough, I now have a really clean house. How could anyone doubt that voice as God’s?

Anyway, this call is serious partially because we don’t have so many burning bushes, voices from clouds or people with wings sprouting from their shoulders showing up at our doors. I really have to listen, and I need others to listen with me. This isn’t a voice we can all hear when we just light some candles, sit really quietly and stop breathing. This is the same voice that we all ask for when we need something. And we’ve all seen the bumper sticker that reads, “If you’re not hearing an answer to your prayers, the answer might be, ‘No’.” But a call isn’t a yes or no question. There’s no divining rod, Ouija board or Magic 8 Ball to consult.

But this is also magic, in the best sense. It’s mystical, spiritual, and awe-some. And right now it’s Christmas, a season full of those very qualities. People who never pray, never go to church, never think about God, hear bells ringing that ask them to help those who are less fortunate, and they give what they can. People who don’t think of themselves as spiritual have their breath taken away by the beauty of a world awash in sparkling white. People who don’t usually attend worship take time out to go, if only for tradition’s sake, but their hearts might swell with the glory of a baby being born who will save the world. A baby saving the world. A person. Someone who smelled like babies do, who squirmed and gurgled and had those funny crossed eyes babies have. Someone whose mother loved him and rocked him and fed him at her breast. Someone whose father looked down at him and marveled that something so small could be so strong. Someone who would hear stories about men traveling over the country to come see him when he was born, stories about a magical star over his birthplace, just like we hear stories about ourselves as babies, only without strangers showing up with really expensive presents, I’m guessing.

So please, during this time of magic and wonder, fill your heart with a child-like sense of God’s love. Listen for that quiet voice that tells you of that love. Pray that others might hear it too. Pray for me, and know that I’ll be praying for you.

Serving on the Altar

Deacon Debby had suggested that I start serving on the altar to get used to being up there. So about a month ago I asked Fr. Charlie to get me some training and start using me up there. He was thrilled since we haven’t had new people serving at the altar in a long time. He got the two regulars together and went through some training.

The training was pretty basic. We walked through a service and I processed the cross, held it again for the reading of the Gospel, went through the motions of the Eucharist, and processed back out. The most difficult part is serving at the Eucharist. There’s a lot that goes on there.

Just as an aside, what happens at the altar wasn’t a complete mystery to me, but it wasn’t very familiar either. I grew up in the Catholic Church before them time girls were allowed to be altar servers. The phrase “altar server” wasn’t even an option since there were only altar boys. And really, during the Offertory when all the moving around is going on up there, there are a lot of things to distract us folks in the congregation. We’re singing, passing the plate, watching the ushers go by, finding our places in the books, all sorts of things. And I can only focus on what’s close around me. This is why when I started driving at 16 I couldn’t find my way around the city I had spent my whole life in. Sitting in the passenger or back seats, I was looking at stores, mountains, cars, annoying my sister, singing along to the radio. I had to ask my mom how to get to the mall after I got my license. This is why I was a little clueless with the whole Communion dance.

And really, it’s like a square dance when you’re up there, only there’s no caller. You have to know when to be beside the altar and when you need to sit behind it. You need to follow cues to know when to go get the cross, when to put the book on the altar, what to grab next. And the whole serving Communion is a dance all in itself with the priest, two people with chalices and then the people lining up at the altar.

So my first service, I just followed. There was a twist since we had an extra person carrying the brass incense burner. I got to follow him and carry the silver jam jar of incense crystals. (I’m sure there’s a name for the silver jam jar, but I haven’t learned it yet.) And John, the incense guy, hadn’t been on the altar in a long time, so we kept bumping into each other since I was following him and he didn’t always know where to go. But I made it through the readings and the Sign of Peace just fine. Then Fr. Charlie asked me to help with the table, which I wasn’t expecting.

It’s not hard to serve at the table, but there is an order to things which should look serious, reverential and coordinated. I can do serious and reverential for the most part, but I’m so not to the coordinated part. Fr. Charlie kept having to direct me, and I kept forgetting to bow after each transfer. Priest hands me wine carafe, we bow. Priest hands me the host holder (again, I know it has a name), we bow. So Charlie would bow, and then I would hesitate and bow. It probably looked a lot like someone visiting China and being a little awkward with a new cultural handshake. But again, I know not many people out in the audience are paying attention, so I think I’m safe.

Then, I got to pass the chalice. Here’s the list of warnings I got about giving people wine:

· DO NOT let go of the chalice, even if the person holds it to their lips.
· say “The Blood of Christ” before offering the wine for people to drink.
· say “The Body and Blood of Christ” for people who are “Dippers”
· for people who are “Dippers” (the right word is “tincture” I know that one) hold the cup low enough that they can see what they are doing.
· some people want you to dip the host and put it on their tongue
· some people don’t want any wine, in which case they will either cross their arms over their chests, shake their heads, or hiss and cross their eyes (well, maybe not the last part)
· after someone takes a drink, wipe the edge, turn the chalice a ¼ turn, and move to the next person.
· after everyone has finished, do not slug the remains. Put the chalice either back on the Credence table or on the altar depending on which chalice you get. The Altar Guild get first dibs on whatever wine is left.

I think I did okay. I didn’t spill anything, said the right things, didn’t trip over Fr. Charlie as he went back and forth, and no one hissed at me.

Then, we made it through the clean-up and I did okay putting everything back as Fr. Charlie finished up. I processed just fine. I just forgot it was my job to put out the candles on the altar, but it got taken care of.

Since that first time, I’ve been on the altar a couple of more times, even when the Canon to the Ordinary came to visit a couple of weeks ago. And I guess I did well enough that Fr. Charlie is going to put me n a regular rotation and give others a break from serving. It’s wonderful taking part more fully and up-close at the mystery of the Eucharist, and I just have to keep reminding myself that no one “out there” is watching for me to mess up. But I can see them during the sermon from my perch up at the altar. And if anyone falls asleep, I’ll know. So be careful you’re looking attentive out there… I’m in control of the wine….

Update

Sorry I've been away from here! The end of the semester is always hectic with grading, panicking students, end-of-the-semester projects, and getting ready for the upcoming semester.

But exciting things are happening in my discernment process. Fr. Charlie has the discernment group together and we're finding times and days when we can all meet. We'll start in January and meet once a month or so. The first three meetings are trainings with two "shepherds," and then the shepherds leave us to the work, which can go for as little as three months and as long as six-nine months. We'll be working together to make sure I'm on the right path. We might decide that the call is really just to keep doing what I'm doing, to be priest, or to keep going with the deacon thing.

The holidays are coming, and I've got a lot on my plate, but really, it's a feast and a party! And since I always go back for seconds at real buffets, chances are I'll be that with a metaphorical one as well!

Love to you all, and please pray for me and the whole discernment group.

Trepidation

What is there to get all freaked out about? It's not like I have to take a vow of chastity, poverty, sign a form giving all my earthly goods to the church, or sell my pets. Why all the fuss? Here's a list of my fears about this journey, both before talking to Deacon Debby and still persisting.


1. I don't have the time.


This is a big one. Becoming a deacon means a pretty big investment of time. First, I have to go through discernment, which means several meetings over a series of months. Well, okay, I have lots of meetings already, so what's one more? Plus, this will focus on God's call to me, so it's not like sitting through a budget meeting or a student judicial hearing where I know that student is just biding his time and doesn't think he has any blame in whatever trouble he got it. Ooops. I started channeling "Professor LaTour" there. Sorry.


After the discernment meetings, if I move forward, I have to start getting some deacon education. That means giving up every other Saturday for a few years, plus some weekend retreats. Ouch. I just finished a low-residency MFA that took two years and sucked away time. Can I do it again? If I did it once, I suppose I can.


What about after I'm a deacon? How much time then? I'll pretty much do what I'm doing now, with a little more focus and purpose. Deacons are ordained, but "of the world" so they function in both places. I'll still serve on committees. I'll still visit people who can't leave their homes. I'll still be at church every Sunday. And I'll still be a professor. but who knows knows what else?



Verdict: Trepidation EASED



2. My husband, who I love, isn't the church type.


Paul is a super guy. He's into sports, writing, movies, indie music, trips into Chicago, and me. He's been open to adopting abused chihuahuas, putting up with my annoying cockatiels, my venting about students, and my going back to get another Master's degree. He even comes to church with me sometimes. But he's not really the church type and has some issues with the whole idea of church. If you read my first posting, you'll know I had some issues with church stuff in my life. Growing up Catholic meant that we went to church and were active volunteering. But my mom used birth control. And I was not a nice kid so I went to confession, I was pretty much lying that I was sorry for my sins. And let's not go into the whole sex-abuse scandal. I wasn't abused, but friends of mine were.



I brought up Paul when I first talked to Deacon Debby. She pointed out that my growth in the Holy Spirit is apt to help Paul more than hurt him. And if he's half as cool as I made him out to be, he'll hang with me through this. I get a lot of comfort from the passage about a wife with an unbelieving husband. In Paul's First letter to the Corinthians he says," And a woman who has a husband who does not believe, if he is willing to live with her, let her not divorce him. For the unbelieving husband is sanctified by the wife" (verse 13).



However, for whatever issues Paul has with "church," he likes Trinity and really likes the people there. And he's being supportive of this whole "calling" thing. And I think he might find those collars kinda sexy. But probably not.



Verdict: Trepidation EASED

3. There is not any compensation for this.

I know this may look like a really, really shallow trepidation, but we all know about the connection to money and time. And you know I'm a teacher. Teachers don't make the big bucks. And I'm a poet. Poets can only dream of big bucks. I get asked to be a featured reader at several open mics around Chicago every year. For my 20 minutes of reading and hour and half drive, I make about $40. I had to pay some money up front to get a book published and while I've made that money back plus some, it didn't even make a car payment. So I know a lot about doing things for the love of it and not for the cash.

However, being a deacon can be like a part time job on top of whatever job the deacon already has. And that whole "in the world" thing is pretty serious. Deacons don't get full time deacon jobs like priests do. So whatever extra roles I take on in this journey are just that, extra. Please refer to trepidation #1. But also look at my answer for that one.

Verdict: Trepidation EASED

4. This will change me and I don't know exactly how.

Ah, the fear of the unknown. We're surrounded by this right now. What will the stock market do next? Will gas prices stay low? How will Obama do as President? Will Krispy Kreme still be open on my way to church on Sunday?

But self-change is even more frightening. And as you learn about me, you'll know that I'm a little on the edge of normalcy, so change can be even weirder. What if I get more weird? What if I start acting normal? As a case in point, when I met the Bishop of Chicago, Bishop Jeff Lee, when he came to our church this summer, I greeted him with a loud and excited, "HEY BISH! Nice to see ya!" My husband rolled his eyes, and Fr. Charlie was a little taken aback. I think that may have been because he had asked me to entertain Bishop Lee's wife Lisa that afternoon. "Dear Lord, please don't let Kristin frighten Lisa," might have been going through his head.

What if I stop being this strange quirky person I've become? What if I become all studious and holy and have a light glow about me all the time? How will I go shopping? How will I drive at night? Will my students get a glare off the white board?

Verdict: Trepidation EASED (I'm going to stay strange.)

5. I don't need to be a deacon.

I'm doing my part in church and that won't change if I'm a deacon. I can still visit people who are sick or homebound. I can still serve on committees. In fact, I don't think Trinity will let me go back to not participating as I did the first few months I was getting to know everyone. I'll still be a teacher and God's light in a secular place. I'll still pray for my students, my fellow faculty and other people. So why do this?

This comes to the difference between wants and needs. My mom was big on saying, "You don't need that, you just want it." I have this problem in other areas of my life as well, the problem of distinguishing between wants and needs. For example, I've been losing weight. Paul will point out that my pants don't fit so well. So I wear a belt. I don't need new pants nor do I want new pants.. But really, there's a point at which putting a belt on won't fix things. I'll need new pants. I still won't want them, but I'll need them.

So this isn't necessarily a call that I want. I'm fine and dandy. Right as rain. Good as gold. Wonderful. I don't want to change a bunch of things in life or add complications. I have enough already. but this little voice keeps calling to me, either in my heart or from other people. "Why not become a deacon, or at least give it a shot?" I don't have a good answer. So maybe this is a need. A real call. Hmmm...

Verdict: Trepidation CONTINUES. . .

Discernment

So how did this whole deacon thing come about? Well, I was happily serving as lector and as a substitute short stop on the church softball team when I was beamed by a line drive in the knee... Oh wait, wrong story. But that's a good story too, if you like swearing and big purple bruises.

But playing softball was one of the clues that maybe being a deacon is where I need to be. I've always been active in the churches I've been a part of. I've taught Sunday school (which is so NOT my calling), been on altar guild, and I've lectored since I was in high school at the big Catholic Church I grew up in. But then, in 2005, Trinity Church hired a new priest. Fr. Charlie DeKay is not the kind of priest Trinity was used to. We had had the same priest for 30+ years and had grown, well...let's say accustomed to the way things had developed. In other words, it was a little stagnant. But hiring a new young priest, who came with a young wife and three small children, changed all that. We didn't have a Sunday school when I came to Trinity, or a softball team, or a Worship Committee, or a wheelchair ramp, or any other number of things. Let's just say that the Holy Spirit is now flying so fast around Trinity that you almost get knocked over on the way to the bake sale table. It's cool!

But having a new priest meant other changes too. We try new things. One of the new things was the Worship team, which I was asked to serve as a member. When we lost our chairperson, I felt called to step in. I've learned about liturgy and hymns and other aspects of our service I hadn't known about. But it lead Fr. Charlie to ask me to deliver Morning Prayer one morning this past summer. I even got to give the sermon. I was moved by the Holy Spirit and the congregation enjoyed my talk. This was the first time someone from Trinity came up to me and said, "Kristin, you should be a deacon." Okaaaayyy.... Then, during our softball games this summer, I was asked to lead the pre-game prayer a couple of times. Someone else came up to and said, "Hey Kristin, you should be a deacon." Now, this was getting disconcerting. I am fine just as I am. Right?

But I started praying about it. And God started to remind me of little things that had happened early in my life that I had forgotten about that reminded me of earlier calls. And I prayed some more. And then, with a little apprehension, I approached Fr. Charlie one morning after services. "I'm thinking about being a deacon," I said, probably with a look that said something like, "and I'm not sure what to think about this whole thing because it's really, really freakin' me out." But Fr. Charlie seemingly ignored the look on my face, started to beam and glow and then hugged me. So I guess he was excited. I wasn't yet.

Fr. Charlie hooked me up with a deacon he's friends with, Debby Harrington, and we did lunch. She answered all my questions, and every trepidation I had, she soothed. By the time we were done chatting and eating, she was possibly more excited for me than Fr. Charlie had been. So now the ball is really rolling. I'm not sure it's picking up too much momentum yet, but it's definitely leaving a path in the grass.

Either I'm really blessed, or I'm hearing voices. I'm going with the blessed thing. Yup. That's grace for ya!