BE 2.0 Re-Entry

No, I was not on an Apollo mission, but the word "re-entry" has been on my mind all day. I returned home late (very late) last evening and have had considerable difficulty trying to convince my body that the clock on the wall is actually correct. This could be another long night. It is SO bizarre to feel tired and yet so unable to sleep. Clearly I don't get out much...

Anywho, I was away for a week in Scottsdale AZ hearing about the "Daughters of Miriam" - women prophets of the Hebrew Scriptures. Our excellent key note speaker was the Rev. Dr. Wilda Gafney, the book's author and an Episcopal priest and Associate Professor of Hebrew and Old Testament at The Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia.

She rocked. She had a great sense of humour and now stands as the only woman I know with feet smaller than my own.

I spent the first night in Arizona with dear friends in Mesa - THANK YOU!!!!! (you know who you are :)) We had a lovely lunch, shopped a bit and enjoyed a quiet evening - exactly what I needed after a busy Lenten/Easter season. Be warned however - your place is so great that I may just show up on your doorstep next winter and I'll be like a bad rash you can't get rid of. Just sayin'....

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Thanks also to the organizers of BE 2.0 - I know it is a huge task and was mostly done via email. Thank you to my RevGal buddies, y'all are a great bunch to hang out with and learn from, despite my lack of knitting prowess. (Did you notice how well I used "y'all"? And I only caught myself saying "eh" a few times, so it was a banner year for me. I was dropping "eh"s all over the place at the past two Festival of Homies.)

A special thanks to those of you who hung around the campfire on the last evening despite reports of snakes and spiders. As we sang, talked and laughed, I felt the Spirit dancing her way through the night and all the way up to the stars. And truthfully, I really never did locate the Little Dipper. Astronomy - not so much my thing. Still - it was a beautiful night and all of the stars were incredible, especially those of the RevGal variety!



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But I digress...

Here are a few shots of the retreat center where we stayed:





As the only Canadian in the group, I felt it was something of a sovereign duty to be the ONLY one to go for a swim in the lovely pool. It was refreshing, but hardly cold.



One afternoon, we had a bit of free time and headed into Old Scottsdale.



I learned about Geocaching from a few experts in our group. Fascinating and quite possibly addictive. I'm thinking that a BE in Canada could involve some very interesting International Geocaching...



Naturally, one must stop for lunch and refreshments. We ate at a place where I had my first experience of ACTUAL guacamole, made right at the table. Deeeeelish.



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Yes, we actually did our study time too. At times, my brain was fighting against the tide of information coming our way. It was all good and interesting material, but my poor wee brain at times felt the overload of the season. I know that I did the best I could do and brought home much to share with our congregation. I know that we all did. This group of old friends and new friends are now and evermore shall be the official membership of BE 2.0.

And the people said in one voice: Amen!



(Tomorrow I'll post the pics from the Grand Canyon and Sedona - they are incredibly beautiful)

Bemused, Befuddled and Bemildred....

I have no idea where that title came from except the back (way back where the cob-webs are starting to collect rapidly) of my memory.


more animals

The reason for my confusion is not algebra, thanks be to God.

It's (and I'm hesitant to even say this) the topic for BE 2.0 - I'm slowly (very, very slowly) working my way through Wilda's book "Daughters of Miriam" and I'm feeling really, really insecure about the whole thing. It is so far over my head in the scholarly sense that I should have received one of those emergency masks that they hand out in airplanes in case of loss of air pressure during the flight. This stuff is that far over my wee brain. I feel like a fool. I'm just not getting it. I'm so lost in the classic Hebrew that I'm missing the point of the whole book. I'm going on the event, but I'm starting to worry that I'm just not smart enough to be there.

Back story: I grew up as the only child of four who did NOT skip a grade in school, so my feeling like the village idiot is nothing new, despite the massive framed degrees on my wall. This book is just dredging up a whole lot of old insecurities and I find myself feeling sympathetic to the disciples in Mark, who for all their effort just could not understand what Jesus was talking about - all this stuff about dying and rising in three days. Perhaps that is the lesson for me here - now I finally understand how confused they were.



I suppose if all else fails, there's always the pool.

By the way, today is International Women's Day. I went to a V-Day performance locally that was simply excellent in every way. Our son coordinated it and did a wonderful job. It was a good and informative evening. I love being a proud mom. I feel so fortunate today in so many ways that this whole post sounds really whiny now, but I'm going to leave it up anyway.

Any other BE 2.0 folks finding the same experience with the book, or is it just me? It's okay to be honest, I won't be hurt if you tell me it was a breeze and a quick read. I'm just curious more than anything.

Why I Love This Guy

Still here

Today was one of those "one step forward, two steps back" kind of days. My attempts to access every possible avenue of care were met with a large brick wall today. When I finished hitting the brick wall, I was invited to politely slip between some very huge cracks in the system.

So very disappointing. And discouraging. And frustrating.

I'm tired. And so very sore.

Ouch.

Say Their Names...

December 6th is Canada's National day of Remembrance and Action on Violence against Women. Our son Fabulous is speaking at the annual event at the University this afternoon. I'm looking forward to hearing what he says.

This is from the National Web Site:

Established in 1991 by the Parliament of Canada, this day marks the anniversary of the murders in 1989 of 14 young women at l'École Polytechnique de Montréal. They died because they were women.

As well as commemorating the 14 young women whose lives ended in an act of gender-based violence that shocked the nation, December 6 represents an opportunity for Canadians to reflect on the phenomenon of violence against women in our society. It is also an opportunity to consider the women and girls for whom violence is a daily reality, and to remember those who have died as a result of gender-based violence. And finally, it is a day on which communities can consider concrete actions to eliminate all forms of violence against women and girls.

Do me a favour please. When you think of the 14 women who died in 1989, say their names. Do not name their killer aloud. He needs no more infamy. God is responsible for his destiny, not Canadians. Let him go.

But let us hold on to the women's names. Let's not forget who they were, and what they represent for women and men everywhere.

In remembrance of:

Geneviéve Bergeron
Héléne Colgan
Nathalie Croteau
Barbara Daigneault
Anne-Marie Edward
Maud Haviernick
Barbara Klucznik Widajewicz
Maryse Laganiére
Maryse Leclair
Anne-Marie Lemay
Sonia Pelletier
Michéle Richard
Annie St.-Arneault
Annie Turcotte

We must never forget!

A Dream of Birds

 

When I turned 40, I decided to get a tattoo. It's a colourful hummingbird and it's not in a place where many can see it. It means a lot to me and I'm SO glad that I have it. I've had body image issues since I was a small child, and part of my desire to have a tattoo came from a need to acknowledge that the words "beauty" and "my body" can be spoken in the same sentence. More than that, my body can actually BE BEAUTIFUL. My body art celebrates and adds to that beauty.

I didn't really know it at the time, but my tattoo has also become one of the ways in which I hold on to my privacy. Ministry is a bit of a fishbowl, and I'm not a terribly private person (at least I don't think I am.....but then.....hmmmm....now I'm not so sure about that) - basically, what you see is what you get. But I always have that one juicy piece of information that most people don't know and would never suspect.....I have a tattoo.

The tattoo artist who created my hummingbird said he had tattooed so many priests and ministers over the years that he had lost count. Interesting, yes?

Some people in my congregation know. We have had delightful ladies sauna nights, and well, it's hard to hide much in a sauna. That's ok. A few of the women were waiting for it to wash off in the hot tub I think, but that's ok.

I love my tattoo. It represents so much to me, but that's because of the hummingbird dream that lies behind it.

Twelve years ago, in the summer of 1995, I had just quit a job that I had held for 15 years, moved into a smaller home, earned my BA, and completed my first CPE unit. Where I found the energy for all that, I don't know! While all of this was happening, I was keenly aware that in a few months time I would be going away to Canadian Fancy Pants University to complete my MDiv.

My family would remain at home base, and I would return every 6-8 weeks for a week-long reconnection, then go back to school. This would be the pattern for the next three years during the Sept-April academic year. I was home for each summer. The decision for me to go away to school was not an easy one. If the program had been offered here, life would have been considerably less complicated.

It was a family decision, and the understanding between us was that if either of the boys or my beloved needed me to come home, then that's what would happen. All they had to do was call and I would be on the next plane.

That summer it all started to sink in. I had to leave. I was desperately sad and horribly conflicted about leaving my family, but God had moved beyond nudging to placing her hand squarely in the middle of my back and saying, "YOU. GO. NOW."

In hindsight, it is clear that this was the best move. Had I not taken that opportunity at that particular time, my present ministry may not have ever happened. My partner's health was fairly good then, and MS is so unpredictable, that it was a matter of leaping while the leaping was good. So I started to prepare....but frankly, I was terrified.

I had a dream one night about a bird cage. In the cage was a small brown finch sitting contentedly on a perch. If birds could smile, the finch was doing just that. Also in the cage was a beautiful hummingbird, alive with colour and hovering in the air. My hand opened the door to the cage and the finch continued sitting where she was, smiling and happy. The hummingbird flew out over my hand, up my arm, and over my shoulder. She had to fly.

I woke up realizing that I was both birds. Part of me would have been content to stay put and celebrate all of the wonderful blessings of my home and family. Part of me also had to fly. In the summer of 1995, I had to find my hummingbird courage and trust God to lead all of us in the right path.

Today when I look at my tattoo, I see an enduring reminder that I am capable of doing what God calls me to do, even when it seems beyond reach, even when it seems downright impossible.....I am convinced that when God calls, God also equips.

In the years that I've had my tattoo, the colours in it have not lost their brightness, nor has the memory of a dream that was, and is, a gift.

Watch this...

This is an amazing video made by wise-woman Jennifer. I found the video through The Urban Abbess.

When I see this, I am torn between the hope of knowing how far women have come in Christian ministry and the sheer despair of knowing how far we have yet to travel.

Every day, as I drive into the parking lot at the church, I am thankful to be in a place where I have a viable, credible, and valued ministry with God's people. On the other hand, at least once a week, someone calls, or I meet someone new who is not from the church and they ask, "You're the minster?"

My deepest hope is that there will be a time - soon - when gender and sexual orientation will not hinder those called to share the gospel and serve in ministry - in any denomination.