Singer, Song, and Responder

It is spring, a cool spring but spring all the same.  The trees have put out their flowers and/or leaves, and the birds have returned.  One recent morning, listening to a bird singing, I had a little epiphany.  That bird's brain and vocal apparatus evolved so it could sing this particular song to ears that evolved to hear it and a brain shaped to respond to it.

The song shaped both singer and listener and both singer and listener shaped the song.  The singer could not have sung a song that did not fit the shape of its throat or the sound of its voice.  A song the other could not receive or respond to would not have been sung for long.  There was a co-evolution of those three entities- singer, song, and responder.

I have been thinking about this in relation to my sense of calling, which has changed a great deal since I first heard it, as a child.  At first it just confused me because I grew up in a religion where, as female, I could not respond to it.

Many years later, after finding a religion where I could respond to that call, I heard that song again.  Had Spirit been singing it all along?  Had I stopped listening, tuning it out because of my inability to respond, or had the song stopped altogether?  Had the song changed so I could hear it, or had my situation changed to allow me to perceive it?   Both?  Sometimes I think too much and it makes my head hurt.

When it first came back my calling niggled at me - and I tried to resist it.  After all, I'd been pursuing a career as an academic for years - all those years in graduate school.  I didn't want to jettison all that effort and time.   Gradually it grew louder, or so it seemed - more insistent, harder to resist.

The first time I stood in the pulpit to share a sermon with my minister it was clear as clear, "This is what I was meant to do with my life."  My call came from and to the pulpit.  At that point it felt like there was no choice but to respond.  It was like an instinct, as irresistible to me then as singing that song was to that bird this spring.  Within a month I was filling out applications to seminary.

Looking back after eight years of experience, it feels like my calling has been tuning me, all along.  Both that song and its mysterious singer have pushed, pulled and coaxed me to change substantially as a person and as a minister.  They have tuned me to serve as I do, which changes at least some of those I serve, who in turn change me.  My sense of the source of my call has also changed.  Is it possible that Singer changes too?  I believe it does.  There are layers to this, strata that I suppose are like harmonies, to stretch the metaphor a bit further.  The song is complex.

Maybe we only hear parts of it at different points in our lives.  Maybe we will never hear the whole thing.  Maybe that doesn't matter, given that what we do hear can be this beautiful, this difficult, this challenging, this amazing.  Maybe what matters is hearing what we can hear, and responding as best we can in the moment, knowing that our response may change us enough to hear another part of song.

Much has been happening beneath the surface of my life in recent months.  I have not posted a great deal lately because it is taking a while for it all to rise to the surface.  That requires periods of less busy-ness (which I have not had) and time alone for me. As an introvert, I need solitude to hear, feel, realize.  When you listen, what do you hear?  Is that different from what it used to be?  Has your voice changed over time?

Our Daily Bread

Where oh where has the Rested Reverend been? What has she been doing?  Well, my dears, when not busy working I have been practicing deep self care by fixing up my house!  First, some "back-story" then I'll pick up where I left off....

Early this year I spent two days on retreat at a Benedictine monastery where they worship several times a day.  Of course we said the "Our Father" or the "Lord's Prayer" together. Now, growing up in Catholic home and school, I said that prayer thousands of times, but this time, "give us this day our daily bread" jumped out at me.


My lectio divina group has trained me to use a certain practice when words strike me.  I think about what the words mean, how they touch my life at the moment, and what Spirit might be calling me to do or to become through those words.

After that service at the Abbey, I started contemplating what "daily bread" might mean for me. Of course these words have a literal meaning for those who are hungry.  They also have a broader, more metaphoric meaning, "give us each day what we need to nourish our bodies, minds, hearts, and spirits."  Many of us take so much more than we really need, which is part of why others are hungry.


But in some ways, we may take much less than what we need to nourish ourselves.   In one version of the story, before he teaches the prayer, Jesus says Spirit knows what we need before we ask. Does Spirit know when we are not asking for enough? Might it be a bit displeased when we do take less than we need?


There’s a poem by Wendell Berry about two feasts. At one, people shove each other out of the way in order to get to the table, and then they stuff themselves greedily. At the other feast, people hang back from the table, reluctant to take anything.  When they do they just nibble at it.  Berry suggests that Source is not pleased with either extreme.  We have a banquet in this world – we should neither shove nor demure.


When I take less than what I need, I end up feeling exhausted, depleted, and cranky.  That doesn’t serve me, nor anyone around me. So I started thinking about what my "daily bread" might be.  What do I need to nourish my body, spirit, mind, and heart?  


Being me, I made a list. My daily list includes sufficient sleep, adequate and healthy food, exercise, loving interactions with others, beauty, order and cleanliness in my home, and beauty in general (or rather, mindfulness of it because it is all around), and of course meditation and prayer. Some things I need, but not every day, include meaningful work, creativity, and intellectual stimulation.  


Making a list is satisfying but not enough.  It’s a starting point.  I started this blog partly to keep myself honest about living it. Spending time with people I love was already in place, as was regular meditation and prayer, creativity, intellectual stimulation and  of course meaningful work. The next step was to try to get to bed at least nine hours before I need to wake up.  I do that most days now.  I started exercising but to be honest, far from daily.  I have been eating more healthfully.

Cleaning house is not my favorite (especially vacuuming), and slips easily.  However, realizing a clean house is part of my daily bread inspired me to make time to clean my home every week – even if it’s just giving it “a lick and a promise” as my mom says.  It turns out cleanliness is next to godliness, or at least pretty darn close, in my book.  Okay, so that brings us up to my last post, which was shortly after having two days off in a row.


The next week I had two days off in a row again.  This made me a bit giddy.  Looking at my furniture all winter, especially the love seat someone gave me 13 years ago that is uglier than sin (well, some sins anyway) had me dissatisfied.  Watching one of those shows where people come in, help you sell your stuff, and then redo your rooms had me feeling very inspired.  A potent mixture.


On the first day off I went window shopping for furniture.  I found a love seat and chair that I LOVED plus cute throw pillows to tie them together with my existing couch.  Not only that, I also found a china closet that would solve my kitchen storage problems in a beautiful way.  However, I could not afford any of it.  Sad.


Next day I called my mom, and we chatted.  She asked me what I had planned to do on my day off.  I said I would LIKE to go buy furniture but due to cash flow problems could not.  Guess what?  She said she could float me a loan to cover the cost of all those great things and more!  Hurrah!  Happy!  


Turns out I could only get the living room furniture that day, but it a big difference.  After my son and I carried the uglier-than-sin love seat out to the curb, I did a little hallelujah dance.  Anticipating the china closet, I decided to act on the paint chip that has been hanging in my kitchen pretty much since moving in.  I HATED the colors in there.  


That same night I took down everything in my kitchen down and fixed all the holes.  Then after working a short work day, I painted it this pretty yellow.  I bought other cute things to give it a French country bistro feel. Then the china closet came and voila!  My new kitchen.  I LOVE it.  This is a real photo of my real new kitchen.  

It turns out I don’t hate painting that much. Talk about inexpensive ways to transform a room! Could the living room be far behind?  It could not, given its industrial white that predated the previous tenants.  The problem was choosing the color.  I agonized. What could tie it all together?  In the meantime I rid myself of lots of stuff, to sell at a yard sale to raise more funds for redecorating.  Did I mention OCD?


Then I found the perfect color, "butterscotch."  It seemed like a sign.  I did not wait to have two days off in a row, but bought the really expensive paint that dries quickly, and did the living room in one long afternoon.  The paint looked really orange when I put it on and I thought, "Oh no!  It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!"  But it dried darker.  And it picks up the colors in all my prints - makes them pop.  Here is a real true photo of my new living room.  With the smallest tv ever, my son would say.

That is what I've been up to for the past month. I find myself breathing deep sighs of relief and contentment when I enter my kitchen or living room.  I have already chosen the color for my bedroom, and purchased two new lamps and a print for it.  I have found the most divine chaise lounge, for sale by owner, online.  Hold a good thought for me that it's still available.  


And my house is pretty darn clean, to boot.  Though sometimes I feel too tired to do the dishes at night, I have come to think of it as giving myself the gift of a clean kitchen in the morning.  It is a way to love my self.  And I think Spirit likes it when we find ways to love our selves, as well as others.

My home is becoming a restful, nourishing sanctuary, all because the words “give us this day our daily bread” jumped out at me early this year.  My question to you is this – what is your daily bread?  What do you need to nourish your mind, heart, body and spirit on a daily basis.  Just like our bodies, our spirits need nurture every day.  What nurtures your spirit? How can you incorporate those things into your daily life?  


I encourage you to love yourself enough to gift yourself those things, and to be sure you take just enough. Spirit of Life, give us this day our daily bread.

Thoughts: A Big Reason NOT to Overwork

Hello, Readers -

This weekend I had two days in a row, almost entirely off.  I did check in on email on Saturday, but in general had enough downtime to unhook. Besides lying around, I put in a few hours working on a photo project.

Let me tell you a little about that.  For years I put every photograph into an album, accumulating 20 albums that took up precious shelf space.  The plan is to pare down to no more than three albums by choosing the best photos, giving some to my ex (I kept the albums when we split), and storing the rest.

The first album is my life from the start of college through age 30.  (All the old family photos, mine through high school, and the odd-sized ones will go into a scrapbook, later).  The second album covers the next eight years. How do you choose between adorable baby photos?

In the third album, I stalled midway through the year 2003. That's the year I graduated from seminary, started my first parish settlement, and my ex bought a digital camera.  I need to get photos from him printed out to add to mine, so that's part of the reason I am stuck.

It's been an interesting project - emotionally tough looking back at the difficult years.   But then again it is great to put things in order.  Memory can be murky.  The years of my first parish settlement, which started in 2003, may be the most challenging murk-wise.  That's mostly why I'm stalled there.

For one thing I was too busy to do much upkeep of the albums.  For another, those years were incredibly stressful.   I went to my first settlement straight from seminary not knowing it was a misconducted church, or even what that meant.  The congregation had not told anyone at the denominational headquarters, so the powers that were did not know or else they would not have let me go.

At the end of my second year I told someone at headquarters what people had been telling me about their history, and he was alarmed.  He informed me I was serving a misconducted church, told me to take incredibly good care of myself, and connected me with a consultant who saved my life.

She is a minister and therapist who specializes in supporting "after pastors" serving churches where there has been misconduct.   If it hadn't been for her and a group of interim ministers, the closest thing I could find to an after-pastors' group, I would likely have left the ministry.

Out of necessity, over the next three years I learned a great deal about misconduct.  One thing I learned is that some pastors who misconduct are indeed sexual predators, as painted in the media.  However, many are people with poor boundaries, and/or boundaries that are broken down by overwork.  Overwork is a risk factor for misconduct and boundary violations.

If you won't stop overworking for your own sake, consider doing it for the sake of your parishioners, your congregation, and every clergy person who follows you.  Clergy misconduct ruins lives.  It destroys trust.  It plays havoc with congregational dynamics for decades.  Those dynamics make it incredibly tough for anyone who serves in the wake of misconduct.  The experts used to say the longest an after-pastor can last is three years.  I managed to last five, with the support of that group, the consultant, and some excellent self care.  The consultant said I should self-care to the point of feeling pampered.  

Lots of massages helped.  Even so, those years are a blur to me.  Sorting through these photos, putting them in order, placing them lovingly in photo albums, will help me remember and reorder my life.  That is a big task, but worthwhile.  It is more than a photo project.  It is life recovery, so it counts as self care, especially if I pace myself and lie around a lot, like I did this past weekend.

Assessment:  A great weekend - busy day today but managed to work out (hurrah).
Appraisal:  Tired - time for bed.

Thoughts: On Letting Go, and Love

Having written that sometimes I overwork to avoid a painful feeling or issue, I had an insight earlier this week, aided by a dream.

In the dream my son and I are visiting friends from my previous church.  We somehow end up at his high school on a day when there is no school.  It may be a graduation day, it has that festive feel.  We wander around, companionable as we usually are.  Then he sees some friends across this field. He hails them and goes to join them, without saying good bye. I stand at the fence watching him go. The sun is setting. End of dream.

I started seminary, newly single, when he was four years old.  This summer he turns 16 and starts driving.  Next fall he enters his junior year and college search.  As close as we have been as single mom and only child, his friends are becoming more important to him. This is natural and normal, healthy and good.  It must happen.

Although I would never hold him back, as he crosses the field and I stand at the fence, I can still feel his three year old hand in mine.  I can still see his thoughtful child face.  It's like part of him is standing there with me - my memories of him.  Things are changing.  I am grieving.  So this week I made some time for tears and letting go.

Meditations led me to see that though I have been the Mom Who Holds On - advocating for him (he has some learning disabilities). I now need to become the Mom Who Lets Go.  I told him about the dream, today, and said some kids and parents manage this transition by fighting a lot.  I said let's do it differently.  I said, "Instead why don't you tell me if I'm holding on too much, and also tell me if I'm letting go too soon."  He said he'd grab me if I did the latter.  He's a great kid.

Today I saw my therapist and my spiritual director.  I'd planned to go dancing but checking in with my heart realized I wanted to come home, have a few precious hours alone until he comes back from visiting his dad.  I sat outside, a weekly ritual of letting go of my work week and entering sabbath time.  I became quiet enough to hear the rheumatic groan of the late winter trees.  A storm is blowing up.  The sky is cloudy, reflecting the lights of the town.  A rosy glow.  There's a poem brewing here.  Tomorrow I will sleep in, make pancakes and sausage for breakfast, lie around.  If the weather is not too bad I'll go to a dance tomorrow night - I like it better.  It's smaller and friendlier.

Though tired today I pushed through and finished my sermon in order to have two work-free days.  My son will be here, but I will have some alone time while he sleeps late, and when he spends time with friends. In Romans 8:24 Paul writes, "who hopes for what can be seen?"  I cannot see from here what the next phase of my life will be, but another revelation this week has been that what I hope for most is love.  All types of love.

Enough for tonight.  I will try to have two screen-free days, spent enjoying time alone and time with my son.  Hoping.

Week one:  Averaging 8-9 hours of sleep each night - somewhat interrupted, at times.   Worked long hours but feel full.  This can be such fulfilling work.  Better nutrition.  Some exercise.  Friend time tomorrow.

Assessment: Lots of work time but decent sleep.  Time to sit and think each morning.  Good week. B+.

Appraisal:  Tired but feeling full.  Looking forward to down time.

A moving day

They weren't this bad, really.

A good day.  Satisfying.  February Fever hit, so I ended up moving furniture in my church office, and re-organizing all my bookshelves. They were bugging me - displaced books - not enough room.  I culled several books I will never read, or at least not again.  I reorganized the rest. Looks good. Tidy.

Moved my desk against the wall and the chairs into the center of the room.  Increasingly, I have been using my office for small confidential meetings - ministry committee, lay pastoral assistants, covenant group leaders.  It looks more open now - more like a meeting space with an office over to the side.

This all probably says something about how my ministry is evolving.  Yesterday during the children's time I responded to questions the kids have been putting in the "Ask the Minister" box in our social hall.  They ask some loaded questions, like "When you were little, did you get along with your siblings?"  True answer, "Sometimes yes, sometimes no."

"Do you prefer G or PG movies?"  "Depends on the movie."

They also asked, "What is your favorite thing about church?"  Easy.  All of them - the kids and the adults.  The people.  A couple of the kids said, "Yes!" and pumped their arms.  Now my office arrangement demonstrates the same thing - that people are important.  I have a bulletin board outside my door where I hang all the art the kids make for me, and pictures of them that their parents send at Christmas time.

Day Four:

• Had eight hours of sleep last night, then as usual I made myself breakfast in bed (hot wholegrain cereal)
• Had a good hour of "sit and think time" before work.
• Worked about 10 hours today.
• Salad and hard boiled eggs for lunch.  Couple pieces of fruit.
• Did grocery shopping on the way home so made burgers for dinner.  Veggies.  Low fat chips. Fruit.  Dark chocolate for cancer prevention.  
• Note to self:  having cookies in the office is not a Good Thing.  Must avoid in future.
• No time to work out but did move furniture and haul books around for hours.  That counts, right?

Self-care - a good day if I add in a bath before bed.  B+

Practices: God Loves Me When I Sing

Every morning I read from two meditation manuals and then journal.  Today this quote from Rabindranath Tagore appeared in one of my manuals - "God respects me when I work, but God loves me when I sing."

Ministers tend to overwork.  If you have that unhealthy tendency, this calling will feed it with the unfair expectation that you work all the time and are available every minute of every day.  You will have to strive against that expectation AND any workaholic tendencies in order not to burn yourself to a crisp.

In my experience, this unfair expectation comes partly from me and partly from the laity.  Clearly, it helps to set more realistic expectations of myself. It would also help me and my successors if I could help my church learn fairer expectations of ministers.  Many of us overwork because of unfair expectations.

Farmers also overwork!

Personal history contributes to my tendency to overwork.  Growing up on a family farm is a great way to learn workaholism.  Most days, from spring through harvest, we had to work every possible daylight hour.  Sometimes overworking repeats or re-enacts history.

Finally, sometimes I overwork to avoid a painful issue, feeling or even (dare I admit it?) intimacy. Overwork can numb pain, grief, and loneliness, but by preventing closeness, it can also create loneliness, pain and grief. 

Letting painful stuff surface, then coping with it (with the help of trained professionals!  See my forthcoming post on pit crews!) has lessened my tendency to workaholism.  Having time for closeness with family, friends, partners (if you're lucky enough to have one) is a better antidote than work.

So putting it all together, overwork-prevention may include

1. creating fairer expectations in one's self and among those you serve
2. breaking the bad habit of overwork
3. addressing painful stuff underlying overworking, with the support of loving people
4. oh, and one not mentioned yet - finding things that bring you fulfilling joy - singing!

Tagore suggests that though God respects us when we work, God loves us when we sing.  What makes your soul sing?  Dancing does it for me.  Gentle Readers, let's try, each day this week, to do one thing that makes our souls sing.  You with me?

Day 3:  9.5 hours of sleep last night (no nap)
10 hours of work
Fairly good nutrition.  Not enough time to exercise, again.  Boo.
Watched Ghostbusters 2 with my kid.  Yay.

Assessment: better on the sleep - but still in the B range in terms of self care
Appraisal -  dark circles under the eyes are waning, but this rebound is going to take some time.

Day Two - Shutting off Overdrive

During periods of extreme overwork - consecutive weeks of more than 55 hours and little down time - I sort of kick into overdrive.  Maybe I'm a little obsessive-compulsive, if there is such a thing as "a little" OCD.

It's like I can't turn it off, the minister thing.  I wake up several times a night thinking about work - things I need to do or the sermon for the next week or the one I preached the last week, or what have you....

I  have learned how to get back to sleep when that happens but it still stinks waking up thinking about work. Some tricks:

1. Sleepytime or Tension Tamer tea before bed.  
2. Great homeopathic med "Calms Forte" during really bad patches. 
3. Remembering that "worry is a misuse of imagination," and a waste of energy, besides.  
4. Julian of Norwich's prayer, "All will be well, all will be well, and all manner of things will be well."  Repeat until it breaks up and then you're pretty much asleep.

Muir Beach

For me, the only thing that seems to shut off the overdrive is getting away for a couple days.  However, like most clergy, my contract stipulates only one day off per week.  I take that on Friday so whenever Saturday is free I can take two days off in a row. If my son is at his dad's house, I can get away.  Cycle broken.

That set of circumstances won't happen again for two months.

My best friend tells me that some Episcopal dioceses are recommending that priests be given two days off in a row every week.  It could happen, right?  But until then, I need to find another way to shut off overdrive, because sometimes in this line of work you can't avoid those 60 hour weeks.  Crises happen, and you still have to have a sermon on Sunday.  I'm hoping this whole "self care" thing will help.

Day Two:
Slept at least 8 hours last night.  Took 45 minute nap this afternoon.
Worked 9 hours altogether.

• Good breakfast and lunch.
• Ate too many cookies.  Felt deprived.  That triggers sweet cravings.  More on that later.
• Too tired to work out but did watch episodes of "Community" on DVD with my son this afternoon and had laugh therapty.
• Potluck dinner at a congregant's house so who knows about food tonight.

Assessment:  Not the greatest self-care day, a B maybe.

Appraisal:  Tired

Day One - Why self care?

In seminary they kept repeating "self care, self care, self care."  Our professors were trying to drill into us the need to take care of ourselves in order to sustain ourselves in this work and not burn out.  I heard it, but years later it's still sinking in.

If you are an aspiring or practicing clergy person and are dubious about the need for self-care I can only recommend Barbara Brown Taylor's excellent book "Leaving Church."  I read it a few years ago but it is still sinking in.  I do get credit for reading it, though.

Two years ago my spiritual director said, "Tell me about your day off."  I said, "Well, that's the day when I plan menus, buy groceries, do laundry and, if I have the energy, clean my house."  She shook her head and said, "That's not a day off!"  She suggested that I start observing a sabbath day of rest.

Being me, I read books on it first.  Abraham Heschel's is a classic for good reason.  Then I planned it out.  In the days leading up to my sabbath I did all those chores, one or two per day, so they'd all be done when the sun went down on Thursday night (my sabbath eve).

My first sabbath day I took three naps.  Tired?  You think?

Though I get points for having a spiritual director (too few of us do that) and for observing a sabbath (too few of us do that, even though even God does it according to Genesis), I still work too hard and too much.  I usually don't get enough sleep, often fail to eat healthy foods, and regularly find myself too tired and/or busy to exercise.

Confession:  This was my first full day off (complete with required introvert alone time) in three weeks.  That is NOT self care.   I know better than that.

So in order to underline the importance of all this for myself, I decided to start this blog in order to

1. track my own quest to practice good self-care AND 
2. to record what happens when I do what my seminary professors told me to do.  

And yes, I see the irony of working on resting.  Got it.

Day One:

• After a nice night out last night I slept nine hours.  
• Woke and made myself breakfast in bed (awesome self-care practice I highly recommend).  Tea, hot wholegrain cereal.
• Had lunch with my best friend (another good practice -we all need face time with friends).  Spinach salad with goat cheese.  Yum.
• Came home, did some online shopping but didn't buy anything (should do "screen-free" days on days off like awesome colleague does).
• Laid down to take a nap, thinking, "I never nap more than 30 minutes."  Woke up 1.5 hours later.  Felt odd.  Took a bath.
• My son came home with friend - I ordered out for pizza for them as didn't feel like cooking. Another salad for me.  Also fruit.  Glass of red wine (anti-cancer), dark chocolate (ditto), funny movie on tv.

Assessment:  All in all, a good self care day.  No exercise but otherwise good.  A solid B+.
Appraisal:  Feel less exhausted.