a good thing

At coffee today, I found myself having a conversation about tears in church:  a terrible embarrassment, or a gift of grace?

I suspect you know where I stand on this.

I hate crying in public. I get annoyed at myself when it happens.   But I think it’s absolutely essential that people are free to cry in church.  And sometimes (often) I think that the right response from those near by is to do nothing.  To accept that tears are normal, that engaging honestly with pain in the presence of God is good, and that we needn’t, shouldn’t try to ‘fix’ it or get it to stop.

I am always grateful if someone is being honest enough to cry in church.  And I love it even more if at the same time, others feel safe enough to laugh, to beam, to be unembarrassed in their joy even if their joy shares the room with someone else’s pain.

The apparent gap between laughter and tears — the apparent faux pas of having people doing both at the same time — just evaporates when both come from God.

Now don’t misunderstand me:  I can still get frustrated with my own tears.  I think it is farcical that in good times or bad, I seem unable to get through Spiritual Direction without a box of kleenex very near by.  But on the whole, I am still thankful to God every time I sense the truth coming near:  in tears, in laughter, in uncertainty, in hope. In the grace of letting people be present to themselves and to God, whatever that means.

 

 

 

odds and ends

Today was one of those bitty days, when it’s a bit hard to say what I did that had anything to do with being a priest, save that priesthood tends to catch up all the bits of a life and distribute them towards a common end.

After prayer and morning prayer, the day began with emails and phone calls.  Some vestry business.  A bit of catch up with key people.  Messages left, work progressed.

In between all that, there was lesson planning and liturgical planning for the School Harvest service. Somewhat accidentally, I have stepped into the role of writing teacher for this one (with a most kind and indulgent classroom teacher letting me get away with it, then picking up the pieces  when I fail to pitch right for P1&2).  A few minutes to spare sent me hunting for psalms and simple Christmas music.

Then it was time for lunch.  Once the sandwich was eaten, and the napkin covered in drumming patterns for tonight’s music night, it was time to see the P1s and P2s. I was so impressed with them.  There were lots of glorious bits in their poems and they were realistic about what wasn’t working.  Together we chanted them out and listened for the rhythms and found solutions for lines that limped.  In the end, we had time to gather five good poems, and countless fine images of swirly twirly tails (we seem to be focusing on the squirrel’s harvest this time.   My lesson plan; my bias…)

From school, it was back to my desk:  a draft article for inspires from someone who had taken the unusual move of saying ‘this isn’t done yet, but am I on the right track?’  I fear he got a fuller answer than he might have since I was in writing teacher mode, but it was a good article, and will be better (I hope) for his asking for feedback early.

Then, I fed the hedgehog, and headed out for some Casting the Net evangelism.

Time now to gather things up for the music night:  wine glasses and knitting needles, chopped vegetables, drums and bells.  Hymnals and psalms.  Chairs.  Optimism.

My favourite ‘model of priesthood’ has always been ‘priest as magpie’ — gathering up all the sparkly bits in case they come in handy. A scrappy view of priesthood, which longs for glitter in a pile of leaves.  And look — there’s one now, chattering through the rose bush at Molly-cat.  Is he here for the sing-along, do you suppose?

return

I’ve done it again:

Ignored the blog for weeks… months?  I think this is the longest it’s ever been.

It began with a holiday.  I needed a holiday.  And I decided that when I went home to my parents, I would stay off line.  And I did.  (almost)

And I rather enjoyed it.

Then I came back and decide to try to rebalance my life a bit:  no more late nights on the computer (or reading).  Early to bed.  Early to pray.  Time, if the weather’s good, for a quick walk before morning prayer (the liturgical bit…).  And much to my surprise, I have rather enjoyed it.

But it’s bad for blogging.

The absence from blogging has made me ask why I do this.  It began as a tool:  like email in the 80s and internet access in the 90s, blogging was a necessary skill.  I remember the year of trepidation:  knowing I must; not wanting to.  Learning to comment on friends’ blogs, and then strangers’ blogs, and then finally stepping out into the abyss and beginning my own.  It’s scary.  It’s exciting.  It’s obsessive.  And then you get tired.

Bloggers all over the world have been getting tired in the past year or two.  Most blogging friends admit to slowing down, not reading as many blogs. And there are times when I wonder, ‘should I just stop?’

But the answer is always no.

I have built far too many relationships through the blog to want to give it up.  It has helped me build friendships, sustain long distance relationships, and connect with people who share my concerns and visions.  And of course, that sounds very self-indulgent.  But I am thankful that on a bad day, I can read the blogs of clergy women in the States whom I have met through the Young Clergy Women’s network.  I am thankful for bloggers like Goodinparts, whose posts make me think ‘yes, I’m not imagining it.  there is hope for the church’.   I am thankful, time and again, for the quips and comments and discussions that happen all over the blogosphere and keep us all going even when few of us are blogging well.

So, I’m thinking maybe what I need in an influx of new blogging energy.  Alison Peden has jumped into the blogosphere with aplomb this month.  I find myself reading more and more  non-church blogs — everything from Your Vegan Mom and Joe Pastry to the wonderfully addictive videos at TED (ideas worth spreading).  But I haven’t hunted for blogs in a long time.  Maybe it is time.  Some quiet evening, when I have worked enough for one day, but have not hit the newly imposed 9pm computer threshold, maybe I should go wandering.

What do you think?  What have you found lately?  There must be new and exciting bloggers out there, to stir the weary old bloggers into action.