Sermon: "Theo and Phyllis Gettin' Married" (June 30, 2013)

Pentecost 6C

Luke 9:51-62

Galatians 5:1, 13-25

Some facts to help you understand the sermon metaphor:

·      “Sophia” is Greek for “wisdom,” and in Scripture refers to the Holy Spirit.

·      Luke’s Gospel is addressed to “Theophilus,” which means, “lover of God.”

·      Scripture is replete with wedding imagery, including Revelation, which refers to Christ as the bridegroom and the church as the one betrothed to Christ.

Pr. Sophia [to congregation]: Hello! Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen. I’m so glad you are able to be here with us today. I’m Pastor Sophia, and I wanted to give you a little background about the meeting you’ll be listening in on today. I’ve been meeting with this couple who are preparing to marry, Theo and Phyllis, doing a little premarital counseling, if you will. Usually I meet with both members of the couple together, but in past sessions, some concerns have come up for Phyllis, so I suggested we meet one-on-one so we can discuss them.

Phyllis knocks.

Oh, there she is now! Come in!

(Overlapping “Hi”s)

Phyllis: Sorry I’m a few minutes late.  Theo and I were across town doing registry stuff. He wanted to register at that store, “Fruits of the Spirit.”  Have you ever been there?

Pr. Sophia: Oh yes!  The guy who does their marketing, Paul, is a friend of mine!

They have a moment of shared enthusiasm:  “Omigosh, Paul, the kind of bald guy with the tuft thing, “ “Yeah, always has a pen on him,” “Oh he seemed so nice..and kind of confusing!” (overlapping)  “Yeah, that sounds right...”  (Simultaneous sigh.)

Ah that’s great. But let’s get started.  I’m so glad we are able to meet today. Please, have a seat. Phyllis sits. Let’s begin with prayer. Gracious God, bless this conversation, and may your Spirit guide us in this time of discernment. Amen.

Phyllis: Thanks, Pastor.

Pr. Sophia: Ok, so last time we met, some concerns came up for you about what you’re giving up in order to marry Theo.  

Phyllis: Yeah, uh... This whole marriage thing is kind of a lot to take in!

Pr. Sophia: Very truly I tell you, it sure is.

Phyllis: I mean, when Theo first asked me, marriage seemed like such a good idea. It’s just...I’m not sure I’m ready to leave behind my life.

PS: Hm. Okay. Can you say more about that?

Phyllis:  I always pictured settling down somewhere, you know? A nice little house with the gardens and the curtains, maybe in West Irondequoit....that's been my dream for a long time. But as you know, Theo’s work requires him to move around a lot. At first I thought I was ok with giving up that dream, but lately it's all I can think about. The other day I was driving, and this fox darted across the road in front of my car, and even as I was swerving so I didn’t hit her, there was this thought: even that fox has a place to lay her head. Why can’t I have that too?  

PS:  I can see how marrying Theo and following him in his work might make you feel a sort of... homelessness. I mean, even birds have their nests!

Phyllis:  Right?! Also, I’ve been thinking about how my dad hasn’t been doing too well lately with his heart problems. I’m really worried that one day, my parents are going to need to me, and I won’t be there for them.

PS: I can see why that would concern you. And family is very important... It sounds like you have a lot of future hopes and dreams that you’re not ready to compromise.

Phyllis: I do. And to be honest, it’s not just future stuff I'm thinking about, it's now stuff too. Like, I’m used to waking up at a certain time, hanging out with certain people, spending my money a certain way... And pastor, Theo does all those things really differently. Like, he’s always wanting to give money and things away--like, he keeps bugging me to get rid of extra coats--and he invites over these strange people all the time!  Like, some of the people involved in that IRS scandal!  And these women...they're a little sketchy, if you know what I mean...

PS:  I see. Sounds like following Theo in his work is going to be a big life change for you in a lot of ways, and you’re worried that life with Theo will require you to sacrifice more than you are ready to.

Phyllis: That's exactly it! Theo's asking me to sacrifice so much, and the relationship is starting to feel out of balance.

PS: Well... yes, but Theo has also sacrificed quite a bit for you, you know. He is Christ, after all.

Phyllis:  I know, I know he is. And I’m trying to be the best darn church that I can. But maybe it's too hard to do what he's asking.

PS:  No one ever said that being the Bride of Christ was a vocation for the weak. But don’t be so hard on yourself. This is not something that can just suddenly happen. It is something you have to work toward. Relationships are hard. And this is a big life commitment, not to be taken lightly.  

Phyllis: I guess... I just didn’t expect it to be THIS much work.

PS: Yeah, I know. Maybe this will help. In my work with people preparing to marry, I have found there are really three big tasks to work toward: blessing, leaving, and cleaving. The blessing has been going on for a while already, as you have gotten to know each other. Can you think of ways that preparing for this commitment to Theo has already been a blessing?

Phyllis: Well, actually...even the things I was talking about to you before...how Theo likes to give everything away--well, that commitment to figuring out what sorts of things I really need in my life, and sharing what I have with the less fortunate, gives a meaning and shape to life that I didn’t have in the same way before I met Theo. Getting rid of extra stuff has made me feel...freer. Does that make sense?

PS:  Yes, absolutely.  “For freedom Christ has set you free.”  But you know, my friend Paul - that guy who does marketing at the “Fruits of the Spirit” store - he likes to say that Christ didn’t set us free for self-indulgence.  He set us free for service to one another.  

Phyllis:  No offense, pastor, but... That doesn’t really make any sense. Being set free sounds great.  Being set free for service sounds almost harder than being in chains. Who wants to be free, only to be … chained to the needs of someone else?

PS:  Interesting. What makes you feel like you are chained to something or someone else?

Phyllis: Wanting to be a good person for Theo! But I'm starting to realize: being a good person?  Not so hard.  But trying to be the kind of person Theo wants me to be?  This radically self-giving, hands-on-the-plow, ain’t-looking-back, love-your-neighbor-as-yourself person?  That’s hard. And freedom shouldn’t be so hard!

PS:  Aha. So how should freedom be?

Phyllis: Well, my answer for that is changing! Before I met Theo, when I heard the word “freedom,” I thought about all the rights I have. You know, life, liberty, pursuit of happiness kind of rights. But when I hear Theo talk about freedom, it seems like that means giving up some of my personal rights, stuff I deserve.

PS: That’s very interesting. Can you give me an example?

Phyllis: Like...[thinks] I have a right to spend my money however I want, right, because I earned it and it’s mine. But Theo likes to talk about people who are hungry, who can’t even afford to buy food for their children! So then I start to wonder... if I could maybe buy fewer shoes, or eat out less, then that money could go instead to feeding some of those people, then I would still be exercising my freedom, but it would be serving someone else, not myself.

PS: It sounds like your cultural context is telling you a very different way to live than you are hearing from Theo. Theo is very counter-cultural! But I also hear you recognizing the blessings as well as the difficulties.

Phyllis: So maybe it’s the leaving and cleaving you talked about that I’m struggling with?

PS: Ah, okay. So let’s talk more about those. They sort of go together - you leave in order to cleave. You have to leave some of those familiarities behind in order to really cleave to Theo. That means some of your relationships might change - relationships with your family, your co-workers, your friends. And that can be hard, definitely. But it can also be so joyful, because cleaving to Theo is something that will bring you so much love and joy and peace in your life!

Phyllis:  Pastor, I don't doubt the love and the peace and the joy...I doubt whether I can really cleave to Theo! Seriously, I open my copy of the Bible and I see Luke 9 and the costs of being a disciple, and how even Theo’s earliest compadres didn’t really understand what it was like to be his friend, how THEY kept getting it wrong, doing dumb stuff like trying to bring down fires on entire towns... if the apostles got it so wrong, how am I supposed to get it right?  

PS: Well, the good news about being the Bride of Christ is that he already knows you might fall short sometimes and do foolish things. Finding blessings - that is much easier, even fun! But he knows leaving the physical and emotional comforts of your familiar life is difficult, perhaps the most difficult task of all. But even though you can’t do it, Christ can and does.  In that very part of Luke you’re talking about, what does your beloved do when his friends get it wrong?  He keeps his face set toward Jerusalem. He stays committed to the relationship, committed to the mission he was sent to do.

Phyllis: That's really good news.

PS: Then why don't you sound happier, Phyllis?

Phyllis:  It's just so hard to believe that Theo won't ever get tired of my falling short. I’m really afraid that...someday he'll have had enough of my mistakes, and he'll stop loving me.

PS: Do you really believe that, Phyllis? That he would go through everything he has gone through for you already... just to drop you as soon as you make a mistake? As soon as you waver just a little bit?

Phyllis: Well...yes.  Like, after everything he’s gone through for me, shouldn’t the least he gets in return be a church who can live up to his expectations?  And when I can’t, wouldn’t he have every reason to walk away?

PS: Every reason, yes... but he’s not a particularly reasonable person, is he?

Phyllis: Good point.

PS:  Against reason, Theo--let me call him Christ--died for people who rejected him, who did absolutely everything they could to convince him that all the love he’d shown for them had gone to waste. And he went to the cross still loving them, and asking his Father to forgive them for everything they had done. And you know something, Phyllis? As a living metaphor for the Holy Spirit, I can personally vouch for the fact that Theo repeats that line every time the church fails to live up to his love.

Phyllis: Every time?

PS: Every time.

Phyllis: Wow… The weird dinner guests don't seem like such a big deal now.

PS: He’s pretty amazing, that bridegroom of yours!  So, where are your thoughts now?

Phyllis: Still sort of torn, to be honest. I mean, I love Theo with all my heart. I know following him, marrying him, will not be easy. I know it will come with struggles. And that is not something I am taking lightly. But...I think I can take on the leaving and cleaving. Pastor Sophia, I just really want to spend my life with this guy!

PS: I’m so happy to hear that, Phyllis.

Phyllis: Now, my father-in-law... HE is a tough nut to crack.

PS: Let’s save that for another session, Phyllis.  Shall we pray?

Phyllis:  Yes, please.

PS:  I’ll begin, and then I’ll leave some space for you. That work?

Phyllis: Yeah.

PS: Lord Jesus Christ, we know that following and committing to you can be very difficult - even as the rewards are beyond our comprehension. Grant us the courage to follow you anyway, trusting that you will lead us safely. I pray this day especially for Phyllis, who is weighing some of the challenges of committing her life to following Christ. Lord, hear her prayer...

Phyllis: Dear Lord, sometimes I don’t feel good enough to be your hands and feet in the world. Thank you for letting me be them anyway. Sometimes I don’t feel wise enough to know why you called me in the first place. Thank you for calling me anyway.  Sometimes I don’t feel like I can pay the cost of discipleship. Thanks for loving me anyway.

PS:  In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

Both: Amen.

Lingering gratitude and a rude awakening

Last night as I was trying to get to sleep, I thought over the events of the day, and the past month, and I was still so overwhelmed with gratitude that I couldn't fall asleep! I was experiencing such an abundance, that I almost felt a certain lack - a lack of ability to fully express how grateful I am. I kept thinking, "I need to say thank you again!" but also felt that no number of words could possibly ever do the trick. Pretty good problem to have, I guess!

This morning when I woke up, I felt pretty good, good enough to go for a little walk with my pooch. But alas, his leash was nowhere to be found. (Later discovered in Michael's car - drat!) In our previous walks, I have felt like I am probably to the point where I could even run a little, if Klaus's little legs were able to keep up (they aren't, and/or he's too lazy). So since I couldn't take Klaus with me anyway, I thought, "Today is the day! I'm going for a run!" I put a podcast on my phone, and off I went. And it was glorious! I would run for 7-8 minutes, then walk for a minute, then run again, and so on. It was about 20 minutes, and I thought that was probably enough for my first day hitting the pavement, so I headed toward my house. I passed a lady with her dog going the other way. I could see my house - I was across the street and a couple houses down from my final destination, still feeling pretty good.

And then I tripped.

The uneven sidewalk. It'll getcha every time. I thought I had it, that I could just run through it. Keep my momentum moving forward, and I would find my balance. I stumbled past a parked car, but decided not to use it to catch my balance (slamming into neighbor's parked car seemed a bad idea).

And then I was sliding into home, face first.

Ugh.

The lady walking her dog turned around. "Oh my gosh! Are you okay?!" I stayed still for a moment, trying to figure out what happened, but I realized both the dog lady and the yard work guy across the street were eagerly watching to make sure I hadn't broken anything. So I rolled over and got up, brushed myself off. "I'm okay. Just my dignity is damaged," I shouted back. "You sure??" "Yeah, I'm okay." I turned toward my house and started walking, trying to get a better sense of the real damage. My phone, which had endured a long scrape on the pavement, actually looked fine. Just the screen protector, which had clearly served its purpose, needed to come off because of all the dirt under it. Nothing was bleeding too bad, just scraped and bruised - both elbows, especially my left, my left hand and thumb especially, and a gigantic bruise on my left hip. A hole in my shorts.

Then I realized, "Oh my gosh, I just had surgery on my left side! Am I okay?" I looked down, and no damage done. With some pride, I noticed that my newbie boobie didn't hurt at all - I hadn't even noticed it! (Of course, it doesn't have any feeling, so maybe that's why...) But it still stood, looking artificially perky as ever, no damage done. Good job, boobie!

I limped (more in ego than in body) back to my house, the few more steps, feeling pretty discouraged. Here I'd felt so good, was getting a good start on the day by exercising, and the adventure ends with a face plant in sight of my house. What am I supposed to take from this??

Michael's mom has been staying with me, and she was up and about when I got in. "I biffed it," I said. "Oh no," she said, with appropriate motherly concern. She helped me get cleaned up, helped me get set up with some ice. After I'd calmed down a bit (between the pain and the frustration, there were some tears), I took a shower and got dressed, and asked her to help me get some bandages going. I pulled out the hydrogen peroxide and she tried to clean the biggest scrape... but holy CRAP that hurts! I said, "This hurts more than the mastectomy!!" which really is true, I think (though it didn't last as long). We gave up on that after a while and iced it some more, than put some neosporin and a big bandaid - at least I had plenty of those from my biopsy days. I took some Advil.

Now I'm at work, grumpy that I didn't get here until much later than I'd planned when I woke up feeling so good and energized. Boo. :(

My heart is bursting!

After a couple weeks of feeling "pretty good" and one week of feeling "pretty darn good!" I decided it was time to get myself back in the pulpit. I had planned for a while to be back in worship in a sort of leadership role by today, because there was a baptism at Bethlehem this morning, and a congregational meeting at St. Martin. We had a supply preacher lined up, so I was going to lie a little low and let him do most of the work. But I couldn't resist. I have been feeling so good these days, I didn't see any reason not to preach, too. (And with a Gospel text as colorful as the Gerasene demoniac... I mean, demon possessed pigs running off a bank into the sea to drown themselves?? This stuff preaches itself!) So on Wednesday this past week, I decided I would jump back in with both feet - preaching, baptizing, schmoozing, the whole shebang.

At that point, I had no idea just how much I was getting myself into! (In a really good way!)

I very quickly saw at Bethlehem that most people in church were wearing pink tie-dyed shirts - in honor of my return! So sweet! One member of the congregation was tie-dying shirts for her Relay for Life team (I think?) and went ahead and made some for people in the congregation to wear today. They all said, with such happy smiles, "We're so glad you're back, pastor!" Boy, I was glad to be back!

As I said, there was a baptism at Bethlehem, a really nice young family who has been involved but with young children has not been around much. But now they were back with a vengeance - the family filled up three or four pews! And they were so thrilled to be there, all looking so very happy. And so naturally, I was practically bouncing off the walls. A baptism - what a day to come back! I was grinning from ear to ear, wanting to talk to everyone and greet everyone. I kept telling myself, "Johanna, save some energy for St. Martin," but I couldn't contain it.

Worship was beautiful, one of those days when everything seemed to fit perfectly with everything else. There was even a flute/guitar duet (they played for both churches). Little Ryan John only made a little fuss, and was a perfect angel while I walked him up and down the aisle, introducing him to the congregation (and I only cried a little - I've yet to make it through that part without crying... oy vey!) The family was immensely grateful for the warmth and welcome the good people of Bethlehem offered (even a cake - see above!). And I continued to emotionally bounce off the walls.

On to St. Martin. As per usual, I slipped in quickly and ran up the stairs. I greeted people as I saw them, tried to catch up with people as much as I could in a short time. We had a pretty decent turn out, which pleased me for a hot summer day! (And no A/C...) When I said during the welcome how glad I was to be back, they burst into applause. Aww. :) It was such fun to do the children's sermon again - I've missed interacting with them! After worship we had our annual congregational meeting, which went rather quickly. In place of my report, I said the deepest thank you I knew how - for all that they have done for me in the past year, all that they have given me, all the ways they have inspired me. As I had at Bethlehem during announcements, I told them that no words could express how deep my gratitude is for them and their graciousness for me as I've taken this time to heal. I am so, so blessed, and my heart is over-flowing. "Keep being the church!" I charged them. I closed the meeting in prayer, we adjourned...

And then my council president said, "So, we didn't just stay for the meeting. We also have a surprise bridal shower for you downstairs!" Total surprise. I mean, I knew they would do something (they wouldn't do nothing!), but I had no idea it was today. I hadn't heard anything about and wasn't expecting anything, per se, except that I knew they would do something because that's who they are. There were a couple hints: someone asked me where I was registered; someone asked me last week, "How many showers are you having?" and I said, "Just the one for sure, maybe something at home, unless you know something I don't know!" and people got all shifty eyed; my council president was awfully insistent that I not preach, and really take it easy today; stuff like that. But even Michael kept it a secret! That rascal. It didn't hurt, of course, that I was gone for five weeks - much easier to keep a secret when I'm not around to hear the announcements! What makes it even better is that Michael's mom has been in town this weekend from Virginia, so she was there for it, too! She missed the other one back in April, so I was SO glad she could be here for this one.

The party was a lot of fun. A few games, like every table of people had to sing us a song with the word "love" in it (they did very well, I think we may have some new choir recruits!). There was a sheet with several Bible verses about love or marriage with missing words we had to fill in. There was a trivia game about me and Michael. There were LOTS of sunflowers! And delicious finger foods. Unfortunately (fortunately?) our congregational meeting was short, so we were an hour ahead of schedule and we had to call BLC people to come much earlier than we thought! But they came, and there was plenty of food for everyone and lots of happiness and smiles. And SO MANY GIFTS! Michael and I were overwhelmed by people's generosity and thoughtfulness. Totally bowled over. Wow wow wow.

If I wasn't feeling loved and blessed already (but believe me, I WAS), there was no mistaking it today. I am so, so lucky to be a part of this beautiful body of Christ. I have no words to describe it. Thank you God!

(Needless to say, we all came home and totally crashed. So tired, but so very happy.)

Homemade favors, filled with candy.  

Recipes for us! 

Bride, groom, and mother of the groom.

Food table (and this was before BLC's food came!)

Someone donated these to the garage sale! Nothing wasted. :)

Beautiful cake! 

Sermon: "New identity " (June 23, 2013, Pent. 5C)

Pentecost 5C

Galatians 3:23-39

Luke 8:26-39

  

While I have been on medical leave these past weeks, I have accomplished many things: getting rid of cancer was a big one, of course. Then all the little triumphs that go with recovery – first full night’s sleep, first walk around the neighborhood, first time driving, etc. Another accomplishment I’ve achieved that maybe you don’t know about… is that I have watched all nine seasons of the popular and hilarious television show, The Office. I even got my parents hooked on it. While I was cooped up and not able to get out much, the people in this show became my world, such that I related their life events to my own, and they even became a part of some of my dreams.

So it is only natural that, as I read today’s texts, my mind immediately went to an episode I’d recently seen of The Office. In this episode, one young mom unwittingly brings her 3-year-old’s lice into the office, and everyone in the office has to be treated. One character, Dwight, takes this very seriously. Dwight is a strange character with a unique upbringing and bizarre family values. In one scene, he explains why he takes lice so seriously. “Of all of the vermin in God’s great green kingdom,” he says, “lice are the ones I detest the most. My first day of school I had lice and no one would play with me. For 15 years they called me freak and four eyes and sci-fi nerd and girl puncher, all because I had lice when I was seven.” As far as Dwight’s could tell, this one little issue had defined him for the rest of his school years!

Really, it’s not so unlike the situation of the Gerasene demoniac in today’s Gospel reading. This is a sad text for a lot of reasons: the Gerasene man, the man with the demons – his existence is not a happy one. Of course, there are the demons that possess him, a whole legion of them. Then there’s the fact that he lives not in a house, but in the tombs – as if to say this man might as well be dead. He is captive not only to the demons possessing him, but also bound by chains and shackles. No one wants him around, he is self-destructive and nasty, he has no control over himself. It is truly a sad existence.

But what is the saddest part of all about this man’s situation is that his story is documented here as “the Gerasene demoniac.” For the rest of time, he would be known not for what he gave to the world, not for his willingness to follow Jesus, not for his miraculous healing, or his charge to tell others in his Gentile land about what Jesus has done for him – all significant parts of his story. No, this man goes down in history as “the Gerasene demoniac.” The man possessed by demons. He will be forever labeled by his ailment. And not just an ailment – by the demons, this thing that has possessed him, is holding him captive, is keeping him from health and life and joy. His demons define him.

We are not so different, either. For Dwight in The Office, this was a silly thing – he believed the lice he had when he was seven shaped how everyone thought of him throughout school. But this is no laughing matter. How often we not only let others define us this way, but actually define ourselves based on our shortcomings, our setbacks, our mistakes, our failures. Like the demons in the Gerasene man, these demons possess us, cause in us self-destructive behavior, make us feel trapped, keep us from living happy lives. We let these things be that nasty voice in our heads, that Legion that has possessed us, whenever a new opportunity comes up: “You can’t do that,” the voice says. “You failed before, remember? No one believes you can do it.” Just like the demoniac, we are kept from the joy and abundant life that God so wants us to experience. We, too, are held captive. We, too, are Legion.

It’s more than sad. It’s devastating and debilitating.

         But the story doesn’t end, of course, with a mere description of the man’s devastating state, and our story doesn’t end there either. In fact, this man’s story starts by Jesus taking action. The first line of the story says that Jesus crossed the Sea of Galilee to go to this man. It’s a small detail, one we may pass over, but it is terribly significant. The land of the Gerasenes is not the sort of place Jesus should be going. It’s where Gentiles live, foreigners. He is crossing a border, going out of his way to go to this man. As soon as Jesus steps out of the boat, he confronts the man’s demons for him. He commands them to come out. He argues with them. And finally, he sends them out of the man and into a herd of swine, who promptly run down a bank and into the sea, drowning the demons.

         It’s a pretty dramatic scene. It’s no wonder the people who saw it and heard about it were scared – so scared, in fact, that they send Jesus away. Even though it is so dramatic, and at first blush seems like nothing we’ve ever seen before… it is also so very familiar. We all have our demons – those things in our past or our present that we wish would go away, that possess us and hold us captive, that keep us from living as fully and happily as we would like, and as God would like us to. They are addictions, they are obsessions, they are actions for which we can’t forgive ourselves or others, they are resentments, they are cruel behavioral patterns, they are embarrassing habits. They are known, and they are unknown. They make us self-conscious, and they make us angry.

But no matter what those demons are, Jesus goes out of his way, crossing borders, to confront them. He talks with them, argues with them, begs them to leave us, and finally sends them to be drowned – drowned in the waters of baptism, drowned in the heartfelt words of confession, drowned in a chalice of wine and a piece of bread. Drowned in the sound of praises lifted to God.

Sometimes, this can be scary; even though our demons plague our lives, they are a part of our lives, something with which we are familiar, an unhealthy or unhelpful norm with which we have grown comfortable. Indeed these demons become a part of our identity, as Legion became the identity of the Gerasene demoniac. So their sudden absence can be hard to grasp.

But Christ doesn’t want our identity to be based on our setbacks and failures and shortcomings. That is not why Jesus came to earth. It is not, “For God so loved the world that he sent his only son … so that we might continue to perish at the hand of our demons and never experience eternal life.” No, Christ came to earth to give us a new identity: as beloved and forgiven children of God. This becomes so abundantly clear in our baptism, when our sins, our demons, are drowned in those holy waters, and we are marked with the cross of Christ, and sealed with the Holy Spirit. We take on that identity that Paul talks about in our text today from Galatians: “As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ.” We are no longer clothed or weighed down by the things that hold us captive and torment us, those things that keep us from life. Rather, we are clothed with the love and forgiveness of Jesus Christ.

And so, with the former demoniac, that man who was so loved by God that God sent Jesus to cross borders and go to him and heal him from his ailment and release him from his captor – with that beloved and forgiven man of God, we too are sent to give thanks, to sing praise, and to tell everyone what God has done for us.

         Let us pray. Liberating God, you know what holds us captive, what possesses us and keeps us from living lives of joy. Release us from these things, drown them in the waters of baptism, so that we will be free to proclaim with thanksgiving all that you have done for us. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Church spy: Part III (Bethlehem!)

Today I spied on my own church - I went to Bethlehem!

I have been trying to get different church experiences, and it is definitely an different experience for a pastor to attend worship and sit in the pews, but what really made this experience different from normal for me was that I didn't have to rush out right after worship. The longest I have ever been able to stay at coffee hour at Bethlehem is about 10 minutes - so what a gift it was to stay until the very end! I didn't leave until almost 11:30!

My original plan today was to go to Browncroft Community Church. This is a large church near my house that I hear a lot about, and I really wanted to check it out, see what the buzz is. But the more I thought about it, the more I just really needed to go to a comfortable place to worship, to receive communion, to sing hymns I know and love. (The hymns were particularly good at Bethlehem today... even though I learned later that we accidentally sang NEXT week's hymns! I'm sure no one would complain if we sang them again.) I have never really had to church shop in my life - a little bit in seminary, but not much. It gets exhausting going to a different place each week, and I only did it for a few weeks. Sheesh. Today, I needed to feel like I was home.

But I didn't want my usual rushy-rushy Sunday morning. So I had to choose one church - oh dear! Actually, the choice wasn't that hard. As I said, I never get to go to Bethlehem and not be rushed after worship. I never get to just sit and shoot the breeze with people at coffee hour. Today was a perfect opportunity to do this. The more I thought about it, the more I looked forward to it.

I came a little late, despite my best efforts. (Why is that?? My family jokes that we always have to do confession in the car because we so often miss it in church. I wasn't late to any of the other churches I've visited, but when I go to my own, I'm late. Doggone.) I slipped in and sat next to the council president, who was conveniently near the back and in a pew alone. And then I just worshipped, with a familiar liturgy, familiar people, familiar hymns. So nice. I loved watching my people do their thing, helping the supply preacher for the day, stepping up to cover for people's jobs who couldn't make it today, just being their wonderful selves. I loved that people greeted me so happily, but didn't put any demands on me. I loved how happy they were to see me looking and feeling so well. I felt so much like a part of that congregation, like just a regular member of the Body of Christ. I felt so happy.

Then of course today was Sunday School Teacher Appreciation Day - so there was ice cream after church! Woo-hoo! I sat around and chatted with a couple groups of people. They asked about my wedding plans, and I showed them pictures of my dress, and of our new house (PS - I just sent in my mortgage commitment! This is really happening!). I learned some things I didn't know about my parishioners, like that one guy works with wood and enjoys restoring old furniture. I saw pictures of a new grandbaby. Perhaps my favorite moment of all was sitting with some of the ladies and talking about my future surgery plans, and how perhaps at this time next year, we could start trying to get pregnant, and one lady said to me, very seriously, "You'll need lots of practice." I was confused, so she clarified: "You'll need to practice - making babies. It takes a lot of practice to get it right!" and she smiled, and everyone giggled. Someone else chimed in, "Practice makes perfect!" I said we might need to practice every day, and they said, "Yes!" Ah, I love them.

I stayed at coffee hour for over an hour! They were clearly delighted, and several people said how nice it was to have me there. I'm sure it was even nicer for me! :)

Teach us to pray...

I have a confession to make:

I have not had an easy time praying these past weeks. 

It's a confession difficult for a pastor to make because it feels a little like a failure. Praying is my job after all, right? Shouldn't this be second nature to me? I really wish that I could write a blog about prayer that started not with a confession, but with a recounting of a long conversation God and I had about all the decisions and difficulties in my life right now, and God spoke to me, and suddenly everything became very clear and I felt this abiding presence and my faith is strong as ever and God and I skipped happily into the sunset. 

But I can't.

And to be perfectly honest, I have never had that experience. I am so jealous of people who have encounters like this, but while my experience with prayer has been many things, it has never been quite like this. For me, prayer is work - at least prayer in the traditional, down on my knees beside my bed sense is. I was comforted about feeling this way when a Benedictine monk told me, regarding their five times daily prayer practice, that there is a reason these times of prayer are called the "daily office." It's like going to work, to the office! And if prayer is indeed work, then it certainly becomes clear why it has seemed difficult for me in these very intense weeks of decision-making, recovery, emotional stress, wedding planning, house-purchasing, preparing to move... I don't have anything left!

Still, I was troubled by my lack of ability to pray during this trying time in my life. At first it was because I was not very happy with God, and we weren't on speaking terms. Then I was just so tired. But these seem like lame excuses. I talked to my spiritual director about it and two things became clear. First, I thought about the different ways that I have tried to pray over the years, and one of the more successful ways was via a prayer journal. I have always been an avid journaler, and it occurred to me one day that I was telling my journal what one might tell God in prayer. So I started beginning my journal entries with "Dear God" and ending them with "Amen." For the first time in my life, I felt like I had a really engaging relationship with God. So in that way, I realized, this blog has served as a sort of prayer outlet for me. I often sit down to write a blog and have no idea what I'm going to say, and then by the end I have a full page of reflections. The revelations that might come from the prayer that I think I should be doing on my knees beside my bed are happening instead through writing this blog - as if the Spirit is speaking to me through my fingers on my keyboard. I almost always leave a blog with a deeper sense of peace than I started with, a result of sitting still, sometimes silently staring at a blinking curser on a blank screen, waiting for inspiration. Even that word, "inspiration," is spiritual: in-spirit-ion. Taking in the Spirit, the Breath. So in that way, I have been praying, and you all have been witnesses of it - indeed you've been a part of it. 

Which brings me to the next realization that happened in my conversation with my spiritual director: she suggested that we might think about prayer as relationship. Notice my previous comment that in my prayer journaling, I felt like I had an engaging relationship with God. Consider what you know about the most intimate and important relationships in your life: they require regular interaction and conversation; they require you to both listen and to speak (whatever form these activities take for your particular abilities or place in life), to be attentive and expressive; they bring happiness, but also discouragement at times; and, they are a lot of work. Now don't get me wrong - I adore Michael, my parents, my best friends, but all of these relationships have required a whole lot of work. Some of that work has been fun, some not so much. Especially when there are a lot of other stressors in life - I dare you to have a major surgery, buy a house, and plan a wedding with your significant other all at once and sail through it without ever being frustrated or discouraged with each other. Michael and I are very strong communicators, but that has been a bit much! But at the end of the day, my relationship with Michael is worth the effort. 

And my relationship with God is worth it, too. Even though it takes a lot of work. Even though it requires me to listen when I'd rather talk (which is, to be honest, a good amount of the time). Even though God makes me mad sometimes, and makes me want to say hurtful things that I don't really mean. Even though we go through dry spells from time to time. Relationships are work. Prayer is work. It's okay if you need a break for a little while. Just as long as, in the end, you remember: it is worth the effort.

In the midst of all this, of course, I've been thinking a lot about marriage, both my own upcoming marriage and the fact that I am presiding in six weddings in as many months (plus my two!), and working with all those couples in preparing them for their marriages. I read in a book recently that studies have shown that couples who pray together have more successful marriages and are happier in all of the various categories of marriage. Michael and I pray together, and I can totally see why this would be the case. Even as we speak to God together, the intimacy between us is at its very deepest. The first time Michael and I prayed aloud together - and almost every time since - I have cried some of my most honest tears. I have clung to Michael as I might cling to God if God were a physical being in my midst. My tears have wet Michael's T-shirt as they might wet God's T-shirt, if God were the T-shirt-wearing type. 

Praying together in this fashion is beautiful, so beautiful. Whether it is aloud, or silently together, or sitting in intentional silence together, or naming thanksgivings together over dinner, or painting, or making music, or blogging (in which I am praying with all of you!), or even shouting my frustration, or any number of other ways to pray, I am grateful for the opportunity to grow through prayer, through relationship. Thank you to all of you. Thank you, God.

One month out and looking good

After a doctor appointment marathon this week, I have seen everyone for my one-month-out round of appointments, and things are looking good!

And I, frankly, am BEAT.

Beat, but good. Everyone is very happy with my progress. The plastic surgeon said on Monday that everything is healing just right, and newbie boobie continues to be "perfect." The medical oncologist this morning said I don't need to see her again until next year (more on that later). The surgeon gave me some more info on the Tumor Board's discussion, and we talked about next steps more concretely. The occupational therapist said my mobility is great, ahead of schedule even, and I don't need physical therapy and don't need to see her again. Great! My energy level this week is better than last week, but I'm still trying to lie low and not push it, trying to remember that it is not only bodily healing I seek, but whole healing, and my heart has been through a helluva lot in the past two months. It is okay to take time to take care of myself.

Still, I have started working again, when I'm up to it. I'm answering emails, setting up meetings, reading some work-related books. A member at one church died this past weekend (at 102, I'd say she earned it!), so I'm working on the funeral, which will be my first full week back. There's also a baptism at that church on my first Sunday back. So, there are things to keep me busy, and I'm trying to sneak carefully out of hiding without overdoing it. The messages I keep receiving from concerned parishioners say things like, "We miss you! But please take care of yourself!" hence granting me permission not to push it, and assuaging my guilt about still being home when I feel like I should be working. (Johanna, you are working. Get over it!)

Okay, so our talk with the medical oncologist. She said she agreed that the mastectomy is a better preventative measure than the Tamoxifen, and especially since we want to try to get pregnant in the next few years, she said it was fine to leave my treatment at that. She also encouraged me to get genetic testing - whether or not I have the infamous BRCA gene mutation, there may be another one that would be of interest. After a fairly short talk, we left the office, but then she came chasing us down. "I just thought of something. Can we still talk?" She brought us to a consultation room. She said when we were talking, she still had DCIS on the brain, not invasive cancer, and was thinking I would have the mastectomy this summer. But she said if we want to wait on the mastectomy until October, it wouldn't be a bad idea to take the Tamoxifen starting now, taking a week break from it during the surgery, and then going back on until we're ready for kids. Basically the logic was, "It can't hurt." She expected the side effects would be fairly mild for me, probably just some hot flashes, a la menopause, and if they are bad, I can just stop taking it. It won't be as effective as it would be for five years, but even six months might provide just a little more peace of mind until mastectomy time. She suggested I talk to Dr. Skinner about it, and if I decide I want it, I can call her and she'll call it in.

So, on to Dr. Skinner, who was wonderful as always. (Seriously, who says that about their cancer doctor, whom they only see when they're talking about cancer? How much better it is to love your doctors!) That visit always starts with a short interaction with the aide who takes my vitals, and she is a hoot. She loves us, and we always joke around with her. We had her in stitches today, just quipping about our lives. She said, "You guys are delightful. I love it when you come in." Smiles all around! Dr. Skinner came in shortly and told us very carefully about the recommendation for the mastectomy and we just looked at her sort of blankly until we realized she was waiting for us to react. Simultaneously, Michael and I realized this, and said, "Oh, we're so there. We know that. No problem."

The mood lightened a bit and we just had a frank conversation about everything. I asked my three most pressing questions:

1) More information about the invasive cancer? For those who are interested in such things, it is IDC (invasive ductal carcinoma), stage 1, low grade (not aggressive). It's estrogen and progesterone positive, HER2 negative. (Those are all hormones, and being HER2 negative is good because HER2 positive cancers, about 10-20% of breast cancers, are much more aggressive.) It was 3mm in size, and likely started as DCIS. In retrospect, she said, they probably did see the beginnings of it on the MRI - something had been going on there, but because it seemed fairly stable, they didn't look further into it. But it had probably been developing for several months. In general, my left breast has been funky and weird, and three times the funkiness turned into cancer, so let's stop playing games.

2) What made the difference in the recommendation about my right breast? A few things. One is that invasive cancer is a game changer. Even with just that little bit, you don't mess around with it. Another is that a deeper conversation with the radiation oncologist indicated that my right breast wasn't as low risk as it might have seemed. There is also some research that shows that less radiation, as I had, causes more cancer than higher doses, because it is enough to damage the cells but not kill them, so they stick around and make cancer. Seriously? Hardly fair. So much for a protocol that was supposed to lessen long term side effects. (My Hodgkin's treatment plan had only been used for about 10 years, so they didn't know long term side effects yet, but the hope was with lower doses of both chemo and radiation, rather than higher doses of just radiation, I'd have lower risk of long term side effects like heart problems and future cancers.) Another game changer was three independent developments of breast cancer in the same breast in six months is something you don't mess around with. One, okay. Two, maybe. But three? No.

3) Last, we asked about Tamoxifen. Dr. Skinner said basically what the medical oncologist had said, that I could take it for a few months and not hurt anything, and maybe help, at least with peace of mind... or I could not take it and probably also be fine. The most important preventative is the mastectomy. So do we go all the way and take Tamoxifen too? I dunno. I'll sleep on it.

After chatting a bit more with Dr. Skinner, just chatting (love her), I went to the occupation therapist. She is also a lovely lady with curly hair and bright, clear eyes. She was very pleased with my progress, and amazed that I could raise my arms all the way over my head! She tested the strength in my hands and in my pectoralis muscle, and found that really, my strength is pretty much back. It is sore to use those muscles, which is appropriate given what they've been through, but she gave me some exercises to do to help that. I told her the pain is mostly in my skin, which looks fine - there is nothing wrong with it - but feels like it is really irritated, like a sunburn. I described it as "nervey," because I assumed this was because the nerve endings are all wacky, and she said that's exactly right. But I went ahead and changed that in my head to "nervous" - I have a nervous armpit. Doesn't that make you smile? And just like when I am nervous, a little massage should help it calm down over time. Good deal! The occupational therapist also offered some suggestions for sleep positions next time around, and suggested some ways that driving could be made less uncomfortable for me. The next mastectomy should be easier to recover from, despite it being my dominant side, because they won't have to take any lymph nodes. Overall, it was a very encouraging visit, and she said I didn't have to see her again unless any concerns arise, because I am already ahead of schedule in my healing.

Not a bad report, all in all, but I'll tell ya, all that information and processing really took it out of me. I've been pretty stationary all afternoon, lacking any energy to do anything! I will sleep well tonight.

We're not here to PUMP you up.

Today was my next appointment with the plastic surgeon. I had sort of freaked myself out about it, and went with some trepidation. I even asked a friend to come with me to comfort me. Why so scared? Because today was the day I was going to get expanded the rest of the way, to 100% of my previous breast size (I'm still at 80%). I have heard this process can be excruciatingly painful. I had thought it was from the skin stretching, but in hindsight, this makes no sense - my skin doesn't have any feeling in it. But after doing some reading, I learned it is actually because the muscle under which the adjustable implant is placed is getting stretched. It's already still a bit tight, so yes, I can see why this might hurt.

But really, the reason I was scared was because this would be something to which I had nothing to compare. "Well, the last time I had my boob inflated..." No. Nothing in my experience could relate and prepare me for this.

So I psyched myself up. I pictured the appointment going something like this:

(You don't need to watch that whole thing... the first half is plenty.)

So after all that, I was sort of disappointed when the resident said they didn't need to inflate me today. What? He tried to explain, but I was having trouble understanding. He went to get Dr. Langstein. In short, here is the deal:

As we know, I have to have another mastectomy (well, I don't HAVE to, Dr. Langstein said, but that doesn't really seem like a very good option at this point). Also, there will be another surgery if/when I swap out what I currently have - a saline-filled long-term adjustable implant - with silicone, which will look and feel nicer. I asked what will require the least number of surgeries, and that would be to do the right mastectomy, and when that side is expanded fully, swap both sides out at once for silicone. (This is a short, outpatient procedure, maybe an hour, but I do believe I will be asleep for it.)

So with that in mind, both Dr. Langstein and Dr. Myers, the resident, felt it made more sense to wait on expansion until after the next mastectomy. This first one, we were lucky enough to inflate me 80% at the time of the surgery. There are no guarantees that we will be so lucky with the other one (though there is no reason to believe we won't be). So say we go ahead and expand the left side to 100% right now, and then they can only expand the right 60% - then I'm looking pretty lopsided. If I leave the right at 80%, then it's more likely to look similar right off the bat, and we can expand both at the same rate, and when both are the size I want, I can swap them both out for silicone at the same time.

Dr. Langstein said, "The most important thing is fitting you in that wedding dress! So, how do you want to look on your wedding day?" I said, "Gorgeous? Radiant? Glowing?" He smiled and said he was sure I would, but he could only manage the breasts, and get them to the right size. "I can't bring an expansion kit to the wedding and make last minute adjustments," he said, a twinkle in his eye. I said it was in California, so I wouldn't expect that, to which the resident replied, "In that case, I'd be willing to fly out there and do that!" Dr. Langstein said he could call in a favor, then he pretended to be talking into a walkie-talkie: "I have an expansion emergency I need you to tend to at a wedding. I need back up. Over." I love them. :)

So, after all this, I did not get pumped up. No Hans or Franz. No pain, and no gain. But no one can tell, to look at me (except I can tell). I will try on the dress and make sure it fits, and if I need expanding I will go back and do that, but I very smartly did not purchase a dress that requires a certain boob size to hold it up, so I'm sure it will be fine, with an insert or nothing. As long as I can zip it up, we good! (Although it would seem that despite next to no exercise and abundant church meals every day, I have lost about 5 pounds in this ordeal... so I'm hoping it really does fit!)

Church Spy: Part II (First Unitarian)

Today Michael and I attended First Unitarian. This is one of the largest churches in the area, and one of the most generous, and though Unitarian ≠ Christian (though many Christians attend there), they do have Christian roots, and it shows. One of the two senior pastors at this church (the Mr. of a clergy couple) has just taken a new job working at the Unitarian Universalist Association in Boston, and this was his last Sunday. Scott, this pastor, was very helpful to Michael during a difficult time of Michael's life, so Michael was glad to be able to be there to bid farewell to his friend and hear him preach one more time.

For me, it was also good to be there. First Unitarian does a lot of things really well. They are large and incredibly active in the community. They host a lot of community events (from fundraisers to art shows - my uncle had a photography show there!), tutor in local schools, give money to a lot of organizations. I was amazed to learn that three Sundays a month, everything that people put in the offering goes to support organizations outside of First Unitarian. One Sunday supports First Unitarian's ministries and programs. Wow! (I was told that the Sundays they give away are consistently around $1000. To be able to give away $3000 a month!!) One of this church's claims to fame is that Susan B. Anthony was a member there, and the spirit of the work she did is still alive and well in the current community. I have taken an improv class at this church (The Spirituality of Improv, I think it was called), which is, first of all, super cool by itself, but also allowed me a chance to see some of their facility, which is clever and artistic and interesting and engaging. I was very impressed. Their sanctuary is also very cool and flexible. It may seem at first like a big cement box of a room, but the architectural choices are quite deliberate. The ceiling is shaped like a cross, so for a Christian like me, I was comforted to be "Beneath the Cross of Jesus" throughout the service. The skylights are placed intentionally for the sunlight to shine through in a particular way. The walls are covered with long, woven hangings in different colors - enough color to be interesting, but plain and clean enough to avoid distraction. A screen is placed up high and to the side, quite visible without blocking or distracting from anything. The front of the sanctuary displays some sort of art that is in keeping with the theme of the month. Today was a 9x12 canvas, created from an oil painting of a serene scene in Durand Eastman Park, painted by a local artist. I love it.

For those unfamiliar with a Unitarian service, this is what it is like, at least at this particular church. (The nature of Unitarianism, though, is that it is open and welcoming to all walks and traditions, so I imagine churches and their practices are as varied as the body of people that make up the tradition!) Someone with a Christian upbringing would find it quite familiar in many ways. Today's service started with a "Call to Worship," played by the band, which was a very talented group playing in a sort of jazzy, bossa nova style. All their songs were intentionally chosen to support the theme. Then a welcome from a person on the ministry staff, and some announcements. Then a chalice lighting - the chalice is the primary symbol of the Unitarian faith. Together, as it was lit, we said, "We gather this hour as people of faith, with joys and sorrows, gifts and needs. We light this beacon of hope, a sign of our quest for truth and meaning, in celebration of the life we share together." Not Christian, but also not un-christian. This was followed with another song by the band.

The next piece was called "Opening Words," and it was just for me. Pastor Kaaren, the other senior pastor, led this. I know Kaaren because she was also in the aforementioned improv class. She recently had some major medical issues and had to cut way back on her work hours. She said that her doctor had written her a surprising prescription: "For two days of rest." She needed to simply rest for two days, and this was her doctor's note to do that. He said she could give that to her boss. (Funny thing - I think the congregation might be my boss, which is what she said, but really, God is my Boss, and that Boss actually already "prescribed" one day a week of rest. Interesting...) She talked about how important rest is to delight, which is their theme for June. I couldn't help but think of my efforts these days to find joy. I will write a separate blog about more of these reflections. At the end of her opening words, she said she had given everyone the same prescription - sure enough, they were tapped under our chairs! Very cute. I loved it.

I'm gonna go ahead and say it's fine for any of you to use this prescription, too. :)

So as I said, the theme for June is "Delight." This was somewhat trumped, however, by the fact that this was Pastor Scott's last Sunday - it was more about saying goodbye than it was about delight. There was another song after opening words (this was sung congregationally - "The Word" by Lennon/McCartney), then the offering (offertory song was "Pennies from Heaven," haha), and then a shift in the theme from delight to goodbye. Kaaren read a poem she had written several years ago about goodbyes - very moving. Silence, and then another song. One more poem, and then it was time for the sermon. Scott offered a lovely reflection on his discernment, being very vulnerable about the struggle involved in such a difficult decision to leave a place he loves. He reflected on what this congregation has taught him, and how they have helped shaped him into the Scott he is today, and prepared him for this next step in his life. It was really quite nice, and very well delivered - no Jesus, of course, but he did at least draw from a passage from the book of Hebrews! (10:24-25: "And let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another." Funny that he would choose to quote what is one of the most Christological books in the Bible!)

After the sermon, some music for reflection, followed by a congregational song which was chosen as a farewell for Scott. And finally, a sort of communal sending, said while holding hands: "Whatever we can do or dream we can do, let us begin it. Boldness has genius and power and magic in it; may we ever be bold in our living and our loving." I gathered that these are always their closing words, since many had it memorized. (I couldn't say it because my hands were busy being held and I couldn't hold the bulletin to read it.) Again, nothing I disagree with, per se, but given that I'm used to the charge to live boldly and lovingly coming from the words, "Go in peace, serve the Lord. Thanks be to God," it felt a bit empty to me. No, maybe not empty; just lacking in power. I mean yes, I can dream, but I don't believe I empower myself to fulfill those dreams. God empowers me to do that - my job is to listen to that call. The boldness with which I live and love comes also from the assurance I find in Christ, and has less to do with magic or genius. But of course, this language wouldn't fly with a good sized chunk of the Unitarian crowd, so it would seem the words we (well, they) spoke were just right for the majority of the people gathered there this morning.

General observations:

* There is a lot of love in that place. You feel it in the energy, you see it in the smiles, and in the way people greet one another. You hear it in the exceptional welcome of people from all walks of life. Oh, that the church could offer such a welcome in all places to all people!

* I'm a little jealous of their flexibility. The space is flexible, for sure. They can go to town on a theme, even rearrange the orientation of the sanctuary if they like, and they have the staff to do it, with many talented people whose jobs are as specific as "worship decor." Their themes come from whatever strikes them as interesting or important, and they have any text in the world to draw on to enhance it. On the other hand, part of what makes my ministry so interesting is that I do have one text in particular that I view as sacred: the Bible. And I believe that God speaks an important word through this text. And when I am tied to something, there is less risk of making worship about me and whatever I happen to be going through. It can stay focused where it should be: on God, and God's Word to us. I have always worked better with structure, and the liturgy and tradition of the church, and the biblical text, certainly do provide that! Still... utter freedom in worship planning is fun sometimes. (To a point of course - I've never wanted to toss out the Bible completely! I do want to stay focused on God and God's Word!)

* For my Christian self in a Unitarian church, there is enough familiar to make me feel comfortable, and as long as I don't expect to hear the Christian language to which I am accustomed, it's fine. It's not worship, really, but it is a spiritual experience. I can see why the Unitarian church is growing, especially among the infamous "none" segment of society ("nones" being people who don't identify with a particular religious tradition). I can also see why this particular church would draw people - the musicians were talented, the music was very impressive, and the speakers were excellent and relevant. Though Scott reflected particularly on his discernment and saying goodbye, it brought up for both Michael and me different things in our own lives, and helped us to reflect on them. (Notice - a "relevant sermon" is not equal to "made pop culture references" or similar, but rather that it caused people to reflect on things that are important to their lives right now.)

* Still, as a Christian I found the experience lacking. There was nothing outside of myself to hold onto. I mean, I do all right by myself, but I fail a whole lot of the time, and to rely completely on myself, my boldness, my love, my ability to listen, my empowerment to serve... I just know it's not going to cut it. I find such strength in knowing that someone much more powerful than I has me covered, that my sins and shortcomings are going to be (already are!) forgiven, that none of this depends on me but rather on something - and someone - so much greater and more powerful than I am. The freedom that this belief offers allows me then to serve with joy, not with the pressure that all this depends on my own goodness, or even the goodness of those around me.

* Related to that, there wasn't anything liturgical to tie me in with the other people there. That is, there was nothing sacramental. We lit the chalice and said words together, but I couldn't actually see the chalice because of where we were sitting. Plus I was reading and looking down and so I wouldn't have seen anyway. We kind of sang some songs together, but it wasn't with the gusto with which a bunch of Lutherans sing. We held hands at the end. There was a general feeling of community and fellowship, but again, nothing outside of ourselves to tie us together. No common baptism. No communion. I suppose our common humanity brought us together, and perhaps that is sacred enough for those gathered. But for me, I felt that piece was missing.

Overall, the experience was engaging and a worthwhile way to spend an hour. I'm not sure at this point what I might take back for my own ministry, but I will let that simmer for a while.

What the tumor board said

The tumor board met on Monday and talked about my case. If you are unfamiliar with a tumor board, it is a meeting of oncological medical professionals (surgeons, medical oncs, radiation oncs, nurses, etc.) who discuss especially more complicated cases to determine with a multi-disciplinary approach the right course of action. So I get input on my care not just from my primary doctor, but from all kinds of doctors with different specialties. Pretty cool, I think!

So yesterday I called to find out what they'd come up with. I spoke with Dr. Skinner's nurse, which was great because now I can mull over their thoughts and be prepared to talk with Dr. Skinner about them next week when I see her.

We were actually somewhat surprised by the report. The tumor board is strongly recommending I have the other breast removed before I get pregnant (like, after wedding, but within the next year or so), and they are softly recommending Tamoxifen. Here's the rationale:

We know that my breast tissue has responded to radiation three times now by making hormone receptive breast cancer (two times in situ, one time invasive). They asked the radiation oncologist if my right breast is at significantly lower risk of this. She said it is at lower risk, but not lower enough risk to make her feel comfortable with me keeping the breast through a pregnancy. Again, the invasive cancer has made this more of a concern. Flooding my body with pregnancy and post-pregnancy hormones will only exacerbate that concern. The best defense is to make sure I have as little breast tissue as possible before I try to get pregnant. The Tamoxifen would be a stronger recommendation, I suspect, if I were post-childbearing. But taking it for five years adds a new set of risks by putting me in the high-risk pregnancy age bracket. It also adds a slew of undesirable side effects that I would love to avoid if possible.

I feel strangely okay with this recommendation. I am definitely bidding farewell to the possibility of breast feeding, but I'm okay with that. I have mourned that several times before, so that work is done; this is just how the dice landed, after all that shaking around. (As a side note, just as Jim and Pam in The Office upset me by getting pregnant right before I went on birth control, they made me feel better in a later episode when Pam gave birth and could not get the baby to latch. Watching how frustrating this was for them made me feel a little better - I guess I won't have to deal with that, I thought!) I am certainly sad to see my other breast go, and do have fears about another mastectomy even though I've done it once successfully and know what to expect. But what really makes me feel better is that at least with the option of just having a mastectomy and no Tamoxifen, I feel like we have been given back some choice in the matter of family planning. I mean, of course God has the final say in that, but I'd much rather leave it to God than have cancer or a drug protocol dictate it. But with a mastectomy, it moves back to, "When I'm healed, and when we feel ready, we can start trying." And that feels like such a gift to me.

Sometimes I go further down the road. What if we try and fail? What if this turns into another disaster? I have some answers to those questions (adoption is a very real option that we have considered seriously).  But today at my appointment with my spiritual director, I got a small ceramic heart that has the word "joy" etched into it. There were several to choose from, with different words. Last month, I would have taken the one that said, "Peace." But I found some peace, and now I am searching for joy. I've felt a lot of sadness in this thing, and a lot of grief, and a lot of anger, but despite my apparent positive attitude and good humor, I have not felt much joy about my situation, especially in the last week. So I have been thinking today about how I will find joy. And one way is to look only at the thing right in front of me, and give thanks for that. So today, I will find joy in the possibility that Michael and I might have some say in when we want to start a family. I'll take it!

The "calm" after the storm

If you have ever lost someone close to you, especially a family member, you know that those first days are full of arrangements and busy-ness, not leaving much space for actually processing the pain of the event. Several days later, after everything has been taken care of, you find yourself feeling suddenly alone, with no more tasks and just the weight of your emotions to deal with.

I feel a little bit like that right now (on a much different scale, of course!). The days leading up to my mastectomy, the time in the hospital, and the first weeks after the surgery were full of appointments and plans and arrangements. The day I got my second drain out was joyous, and it was the last appointment I had for a while. My parents left. I had no appointments to occupy myself. All I had was my reflection in the mirror, and the reality of my new normal.

In many ways, that was much harder.

I'm well enough to take care of myself, but not well enough to go to work. I'm still in a bit of pain, but nothing quite as painful as the image of my new body and the recognition that my old body is not coming back. I have kept myself pretty distracted, but now I'm stuck having to actually process all the emotions I haven't had a chance to touch yet.

Part of what has brought these to the forefront is the knowledge of my next steps. Dr. Skinner had told me that whether or not I go on Tamoxifen for some amount of time, it was a good idea to wait to get pregnant. So I called my GYN to discuss this with her. She recommended an IUD, a reliable non-hormonal birth control method that would not interfere with the Tamoxifen and put any extra hormones into a body that has produced three hormone receptive breast cancers in six months. She also suggested I get tested for the now-famous BRCA gene mutation (that's the one Angelina Jolie has). I probably don't have it, but with my recent history it's not a bad idea to check, and if I have it, it has an effect on ovarian cancer risk, and of course the possibility of passing it on to any possible offspring. I made an appointment for the IUD, and got the info for the test.

I know it's only temporary. I know none of this is as bad as it could be - I probably don't have the BRCA gene, and even though an IUD is designed to stay in for 10 years, I don't actually have to wait that long. There is still a possibility that I could have a child by the time I am 33 or 34. But remember how I said that after all the immediate stuff has passed, I was faced with the emotions I hadn't dealt with? So the big one that came up was about child-bearing. I'm kind of over losing my breast - wish I didn't have to, but so it goes. I'm even over losing my other breast in the near future. I'm even over breast-feeding - again, would have loved to, but it isn't the end of the world. But throughout all of this has been the nagging fear that I won't be able to bear children at all. I saw a fertility doctor, and a blood test said I was probably fine. Even if I'm not, we can always adopt. But there are other factors that are more personal than I won't get into here. Sufficed to say: I am more worried about this than I would like to be.

Last time I saw the gynecologist, I joyfully checked the box that said, "I'm planning a pregnancy in the next year." She had told me there are some prenatal vitamins I should start taking two months before we start trying (aka the wedding night!). June 3rd is two months before. But instead of getting prenatal vitamins on June 3rd, I went on a birth control that is intended to be long-term. I wasn't looking forward to it, so I watched some episodes of The Office to cheer me up. And which episode should come up? The one where Jim and Pam get pregnant. Seriously?? I cried all the way to the doctor. I sat in the car for a few minutes trying to pull myself together. But I got into the room and was lying on the table texting Michael and lost it again. The doctor walked in on me quietly weeping. "Are you ready?" she asked. "No!" I squeaked out. She said, "Oh honey, what's up? Talk to me." (She knew from an earlier appointment how emotional I was about this.) She listened to me wail on about all these things on my heart, things I'd only really told Michael, big things and stupid things like Jim and Pam. I told her some of the things I had heard about IUDs, and she calmed my fears.

When I had composed myself a bit, she asked again if I was ready, and I said okay. The procedure was much more painful than I expected, but her demeanor was gentle, which helped. I pulled myself together and got in the car and cried all the way home. I was still in a fair amount of pain, and the only position that usually helps this pain was not one that my recent surgery allowed. Life is so unfair.

When Michael came over, he soothed me and made me tea and listened to me cry and went to the pharmacy to get me things to make me feel better - a hot pack, a sunflower-in-a-bucket, a green lei, and even a toy for Klaus, all in a cute green tote. It helped, but I still pretty much cried all night, and even cried myself to sleep (again).

But you know what? I felt better in the morning. Sometimes you just need two solid days of crying and a cup of peppermint tea and a nice hand to hold to make you feel better.

Church Spy: Part I (Artisan Church)

While I'm on medical leave, I thought it would be fun and educational to take the opportunity to see what some other churches in Rochester are like. What is the church scene around here? What are other churches doing? What is the special niche of my churches, and what do we offer compared to what other churches off? Also, what are these other churches doing that is working or not working, and how can I use this knowledge to help my churches be the best they can be?

(Does doing this count as work? If so, don't tell my dean...)

This began today. Michael and I attended a church I had heard about shortly after moving here, a fairly new church in the South Wedge called Artisan Church. It's a merger of two mission starts, and I believe they came together in 2005 or so. A couple people had told me about it, and looking at their website, it seemed something worth looking into. I decided to go "under cover" - I wanted to be treated as just some young couple coming in off the street, so I could get the full effect of how they would treat a visitor. (Michael let the cat out of the bag though - "They want us to come back, and I don't want them to think they did something wrong!" He's so nice.)

First impression: the building did not look like a church - more like a doctor's office. No cross in sight, at least on the outside. Just inside the door was a very friendly and welcoming man who introduced himself and helped us make name tags, so people would know who we are. (This guy even checked in with us again later, saying, "I didn't have a chance to talk to you before. Do you live in the area?") They had coffee and goodies already out (coffee hour, it seems, happened more before worship than after), so we got some and stood around. I checked out their bulletin boards (one of my favorite things to do in different churches... dork), which I thought were very nice, neat, and said very clearly who they are. There was some artistic flair, though I don't think they embraced their name, "artisan," quite as fully as I expected. I'd be interested to learn how that name came about. We looked around at the people gathered - the vast majority were in their 20s and 30s. In fact, it was the opposite ratio of most mainline churches, where there are a few token young couples or families, and mostly middle aged or older folks. Here, I don't think there was anyone over 60, and almost everyone had a kid or two sitting with or near them. The result was a buzzing energy, and a relaxed atmosphere. After a while, a middle aged couple came up to us an enthusiastically started a conversation with us, and we chatted until it was time to go into worship. (The kids remained in worship for the opening songs, and then went off during the sermon and readings to Sunday School.)

You can tell a lot about a church and their values by their worship space. Unfortunately, they are in the midst of some construction, so we didn't get the full effect, but enough. First thing I noticed was that there was a worship band on a stage that was across the front and center of the worship space, with a screen above them. The room was small, or snug, or cozy - in a good way. I felt like I was a part of a congregation. Next thing I noticed: no prominent cross, or any symbol of Christ - even the pastor was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and nothing that set him apart visually as the community's designated symbol of Christ, and he was a part of the worship band. The set up in front of the stage was aesthetically pleasing to me - a small table serving as an altar with bread and wine, several pillar candles, flowers, and a small cross, and two other tables to either side, covered in burlap and some rustic candle holders. Aside from the band being front and center and the lack of any explicit Christian symbols, the feel of the sanctuary was very comfortable for me. I liked it.

The music was led by talented people and was very well done... if it were a performance and I were only listening. Harmonies were great, voices and instrument tones were lovely, balance was good, music was eclectic in style (folk, rock, blues) and emotionally moving, texts were theologically sound. But even as a musician, I had a hard time joining in the singing. I only knew one of the songs, and with the exception of one other song, I never felt comfortable singing any of the others. The harmonies were so solid that I had a hard time finding the melody. I looked around and there were several others not singing (though many were), and I couldn't really hear anyone but those who were miked. It felt more like a performance than congregational singing.

The liturgy was at once familiar and disjointed. It followed the basic ordo I'm familiar with - gathering, word, meal, sending - but it was randomly out of my familiar order. Like, a couple songs, then the creed. Another song, and the passing of the peace. Another song and the prayers. Michael and I kept looking at each other like, "Wait, now?" but we went with it. (We noticed a lot of people during the passing of the peace just introduced themselves instead of passing peace, so there were a couple people who said, "Hi, I'm ____" and we accidentally responded, "And also with you.") When it came time for the sermon, the pastor began by telling the context of the day's biblical story, then reading the text (manna in the desert). Then some more context, then the Gospel text (feeding the 5000 from John). Then he showed their relationship, their place in a sweeping, continuing biblical narrative, then he talked about how they speak to us today. It was very conversational and heartfelt/thoughtful, though not particularly dynamic - its delivery fit the casual mood of the rest of the service. He finished the sermon by making a move from the feeding of the 5000 to the Passover meal Jesus shared with his disciples later (but remember, we were in John, and the Last Supper in John is actually a foot-washing - oops!), during which time he included the Words of Institution. Just the bread part.

Then he invited us forward to communion - open table, come if you want, don't if you don't want sort of deal. That bit in the sermon was the consecration. I was surprised to see no one get up to serve communion, and in fact the pastor went back to play in the band. We watched for a minute to see what was happening, and saw people were just going up when they wanted, taking some bread, dipping it in the wine, and returning to their seats. Michael said, "Let's try." I had a hard time. I kept waiting for something more to happen, but when it was clear that this was how communion works in this community, we went ahead and went up. Broke off a piece of bread for myself, dipped it in the wine for myself, crossed myself, and returned to my seat. For me, it was totally unsatisfying. I felt no sense of communion, no connection with the pastor or anyone, no sense that Jesus was giving this gift to me. There was no "given for you." It was taken for me. I was taking that morsel of grace for myself, didn't need anyone to do it for me. I tried to look normal back at my seat, but Michael noticed the contortions my face was making involuntarily. It wasn't like I'd done something wrong; it was more like I'd done nothing at all. Grabbed a piece of wine-soaked cracker and was on my way. Didn't feel especially holy, and didn't at all feel like communion. (I told Michael later that I almost made him give it to me, so at least I wouldn't feel so self-sufficient, but decided against it, trying to avoid standing out too much, though I'm sure it would have been fine.) I will say that the prayer team was available during this time, so there was the possibility of that sort of communion.

After communion, we sang a song. Then someone got up and said it was time for offering. There was a note on the screen saying that visitors need not feel obligated to participate in this portion of the service, but we at Artisan understand giving as an act of worship. I know this was meant to be gracious for visitors, but I actually felt the opposite. I said under my breath to no one in particular, "Well, I'm here to worship, aren't I?" and I grabbed my purse and quickly scratched out a check. I think the collector was surprised by that. While the offering was happening, they made some announcements, and then said, "Okay, good bye! Go in peace!" Michael and I looked at each other again - the end? Sure enough, people were getting up to go. Felt abrupt!

Overall, it wasn't a bad experience. The people were friendly, the atmosphere pleasant, the leadership talented. The sermon kept my attention, even though neither of us really got much out of it. I really liked the prayers - the pastor led them right before the readings/sermon, asking people to voice their own needs or joys, and the people responded. The prayer team wrote down the requests (there was also a box in the back) and these requests will be prayed about all week. I liked the context that the pastor gave for the readings, and this is something I would like to find a way to do as well. It was much more effective than just reading four readings from four different books of the Bible all in a row, and helped people to understand more of the biblical story. I liked the energy and the people we met. If I weren't a pastor elsewhere, I might return and/or participate in some of their non-Sunday programs just to get to know some more of the people, since they were all in my age bracket. Overall, despite my complaining, it seems that they are doing some good work over at Artisan Church, and that God is working among them in some good ways.