The Nut Tree

Loved, Embraced, Challenged...and Going Forth

2012-01-22T15:21:00.006-05:00

Opening my heart, only to have it broken again. -a thought I wrote during worship last year

Whenever you have an encounter with God, you are different. -Randy McMillen (during a sermon sometime in the last year)

Today's sermon made me cry. Actually, weep is a better term, because I was crying so hard that I had to grab the entire box of tissues on the table in the back of the worship space. It's the fifteenth time in as many months that Randy's sermon has made me cry, and the fifth time I've actually wept during the sermon. Not that I'm counting or anything.

I think it's become sort of a joke at OG...or at least among the people who know me well there...that Patti cries during Randy's sermons. The word is definitely "out" after today, because about ten people came up to me after the service, hugged me, and asked me what was wrong. I then told them why I was crying. I can understand why people are taken aback when I cry so readily at Randy's sermons...because I've never been a "cry during worship" person, and not a lot of people are. But then, I've never experienced God so powerfully anywhere else.

I have written about my awful, no good, very bad experience in my first appointment (look at the label "Danville-gate" for those posts). I have shared parts of it with many people at Oak Grove, and Randy knows most of the whole sordid tale. It was devastating, and two of the worst after-effects were that my relationship with God was damaged, and so was my sense of self-worth...I often entertained thoughts of turning in my ministerial credentials (the nifty sheet of paper that lets me act in the capacity of a pastor, according to the United Methodist Church), because I no longer had any passion for ministry or sense of calling.

After going around to various churches, my family began attending OG in 2009, because it had a great contemporary service. For over a year, my worship attendance and participation were purely out of habit. Over time, my heart began to heal, mostly because I began to experience the people of OG loving and embracing my family and me. Little things that said, "I care" kept chipping away at my hardened and broken heart, because I was experiencing the church (the people of God) being the church (the chosen vehicle to bringing God's hope and healing to a broken world and broken people). Eventually, I got to a point where I was willing to really engage in and commit to the body of Christ again, so we joined OG and began financially supporting a congregation for the first time in three years.

That's when I began really listening to Randy's sermons, and when God began speaking to me in a very powerful way. I was reminded of Whose I am (a child of God, a person of worth) and who I am and who God is calling me to be (a pastor). I made the commitment to go back under appointment (to be a pastor), and began seeking out opportunities to serve God, to serve God's people, and to use my gifts for ministry.

Over the past year, God has transformed me, reminded me of gifts that I had forgotten, and shown me new gifts that I didn't know I possessed. God has given me the strength and love to open my heart and reach out to others, and renewed my passion for ministry and my heart for God's people. And that has all taken place in the context of Oak Grove United Methodist Church, in the midst of this wonderful (yet far far from perfect) congregation. For that I will be forever grateful.

Today's worship experience, and particularly the sermon, reminded me powerfully of two things: first, it reminded me of all that God has done and is doing through OG to touch my life and the lives of others. Second, it reminded me that in a few months I will have to leave OG, and how painful that leaving will be. My heart, which God softened and opened wide, will once again be broken by having to leave people and a church that I love...a church whose vision resonates in the deepest part of who I am, as a person and as I pastor.

I would love to be able to stay at OG...to continue to be a part of what God is doing here. However, because of all that God has done and is doing at OG and in my life, I am changed. I am becoming who God has called me to be, and that involves becoming a pastor again, and having my own congregation to lead and my own congregation with which to dream. So, some Sunday in June, you will see me weeping during, after, and possibly even before, worship. And it may be because Randy's sermon has (in the words of a friend) "touched me for the 32 millionth time". However, it will most likely be because my heart will be breaking over the thought of leaving a pastor and congregation with whom and through whom I have experienced God so powerfully, and whose loving, embracing and challenging have helped me rediscover my true worth, rediscover my calling, and reveal the pastor who God is calling me to be. When I re-enter the pulpit on July 1, 2012, I will not be the same pastor I was in July 2006. Nor will I be the same pastor I was in May 2008, when I left full-time ministry. I have been changed and transformed because of the ways that God has worked and is working through the people of Oak Grove United Methodist Church.

So, people of Oak Grove, keep loving. Keep embracing. Keep challenging. Keep stepping out in faith and following God's vision, because God has done, and is doing, amazing things at Oak Grove. I, and so many others, are proof of it.

Sermon for January 1, 2012: "Epiphany: Eyes Wide Open"

2012-01-01T15:51:00.001-05:00

Here's the text of the sermon that I preached this morning. I included links to the videos, except for the "House" clip, which I can't link to. And in the scripture text (which is from The Message), my own thoughts/interpretations are in italics.

Sermon is after the "jump"

As always, feedback is welcome!

Rev. Patti Money

Oak Grove UMC

Epiphany Sunday

January 1, 2012

John 1:1-18

Epiphany: Eyes Wide Open

[Play sermon bumper video “He Came”]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vm0x5u9NbZM&list=FL7T9_-eKartAQYICSPeJi4A&index=1&feature=plpp_video

A week ago, we gathered in this place and celebrated the miracle of Christmas. We sang carols, we had Communion, we celebrated the birth of Jesus. In the surrounding culture, Christmas is often forgotten by December 26. I walked into Target earlier this week and saw all the Valentine’s Day merchandise already displayed. We’ve moved on, in a manner of speaking. But here in the culture of the church, we celebrate Christmas for another twelve days after December 25. And today, we celebrate what in the church we call Epiphany Sunday.

Webster’s Dictionary defines an Epiphany as: A usually sudden manifestation or perception of the essential nature or meaning of something. Today, when we celebrate Epiphany Sunday, we celebrate our realization of God’s amazing love and the impact of that love on our lives.

One of the most popular shows on television is the drama “House, MD.” It’s one of the shows that my husband and I love to watch together. The main character is Dr. Gregory House, whose specialty is treating extremely difficult-to-diagnose cases. Those of you who watch this show know that Dr. House is fairly eccentric, not the easiest person to work for, and has the bedside manner of a porcupine. Each episode features a patient with a confusing set of symptoms that baffle most other doctors, which is why the patient winds up in House’s hands. House and his team of doctors toss around potential diagnoses like candy and usually attempt two or three treatments that don’t work or make the patient worse. However, just when House and his team appear to be at their wits’ end, he has an epiphany. I’m going to show you a clip from a recent episode. Watch for the epiphany.

[play “House” clip from “Risky Business”]

In the middle of an ordinary activity or conversation, House suddenly realizes what is really wrong with the patient, and it totally changes the course of the episode and winds up saving the life of the patient. An epiphany, a realization demands a response on our part. Our eyes are opened. We see the world differently. We see people differently. We live different lives. When Dr. House has his epiphanies about a patient’s diagnosis, he immediately shares whatever realization he’s had with his team, so they can give the appropriate treatment and save a life.

Today is Epiphany Sunday, when we celebrate our realization of God’s amazing love and grace, which came to fulfillment in the person of Jesus, God in human flesh, whose birth we celebrate at Christmas. Jesus broke into our world to show us God’s love and show us the life that God wants to give us.

Let me read to you from the first chapter of the Gospel of John, verses 1-18.

^1-2 The Word was first,
      the Word present to God,
      God present to the Word.
   The Word was God,
      in readiness for God from day one.

The Word = Jesus, who we know as God in human flesh, but Jesus has been around and been part of God’s plan since the beginning of time.

^3-5Everything was created through him;
      nothing—not one thing!—
      came into being without him.
   What came into existence was Life,
      and the Life was Light to live by.
   The Life-Light blazed out of the darkness;
      the darkness couldn't put it out.

God brought life into the world, and with life comes light, which chases away darkness, because light always overcomes darkness.

^6-8There once was a man, his name John, sent by God to point out the way to the Life-Light. He came to show everyone where to look, who to believe in. John was not himself the Light; he was there to show the way to the Light.

John was sent to show people the way to Jesus, who is the way to life.

^9-13The Life-Light was the real thing:
      Every person entering Life
      he brings into Light.
   He was in the world,
      the world was there through him,
      and yet the world didn't even notice.
   He came to his own people,
      but they didn't want him.

Jesus, the ultimate demonstration of God’s love, came to give us life, but many couldn’t or wouldn’t see him for who he was.

   But whoever did want him,
      who believed he was who he claimed
      and would do what he said,
   He made to be their true selves,
      their child-of-God selves.
   These are the God-begotten,
      not blood-begotten,
      not flesh-begotten,
      not sex-begotten.

When we believe in Jesus, when we place our hope and faith in him, we can become all that God wants us to be. We can become more than we ever imagined we would be.

¹⁴The Word became flesh and blood,
      and moved into the neighborhood.
   We saw the glory with our own eyes,
      the one-of-a-kind glory,
      like Father, like Son,
   Generous inside and out,
      true from start to finish.

Jesus came to live among us. He “moved into the neighborhood”, became part of our world. We saw God as we had never before seen God.

¹⁵John pointed him out and called, "This is the One! The One I told you was coming after me but in fact was ahead of me. He has always been ahead of me, has always had the first word."

^16-18We all live off his generous bounty,
      gift after gift after gift.
   We got the basics from Moses,
      and then this exuberant giving and receiving,
   This endless knowing and understanding—
      all this came through Jesus, the Messiah.
   No one has ever seen God,
      not so much as a glimpse.
   This one-of-a-kind God-Expression,
      who exists at the very heart of the Father,
      has made him plain as day.

When John says, “no one has ever seen God”, he’s using hyperbole to a certain extent. Before Jesus, God had worked through the Law (meaning rules) and prophets (people sent by God to speak God’s truth to God’s people) to demonstrate God’s love and show us how to live. The Old Testament is full of stories of God revealing God’s self to people through miracles, through visions, through calls in the night. The God that people had experienced in the Old Testament, before the birth of Jesus, was nothing compared to the way we can experience God now. God’s love has always been the same; but Jesus gives us a new understanding of God’s love for us.

During the passing of the peace, you were asked to share about a time when you had an epiphany: when you came to a new understanding about something or someone. It was fun hearing some of the stories over in my group.

A few years ago, my husband and I met our friend Nathan for dinner. Nathan asked us if we liked burgers, and told us that he wanted to take us to a burger joint he really liked. So, off we went.

Now, often when we think of going out and getting a burger, fast food places such as McDonalds come to mind. I’m sure many of us have eaten our share of Quarter Pounders with Cheese or Big Macs or whatever your McDonalds burger of choice is.

However, Nathan didn’t take us to McDonalds or a fast food establishment. Nathan knew someplace better. And that’s how I got introduced to Red Robin burgers.

Red Robin is a whole different ballgame from McDonalds. It’s sit-down, the atmosphere is better, the service is better, they ask you how you want your burger cooked, there are about twenty different kinds of burgers from which to choose, with all sorts of different toppings…and when I first bit into a Red Robin burger, my immediate thought was WOW. I have never eaten a burger before.

Of course, I had eaten a burger before that night. I had eaten lots of burgers from lots of different places, most of them fast food establishments. But after my first experience at Red Robin, it was like I suddenly realized what a burger could taste like…juicy, fresh, made of gourmet beef, full of flavor, dressed up with all sorts of yummy toppings.

I had an epiphany; I realized what a burger could be, what a burger could taste like. My perspective on burgers was forever changed. It was like I had never eaten a burger before. My eyes were opened wide.

Now, when our family wants to go out and eat burgers, Red Robin is our top choice. Over the years, we have taken a number of friends to Red Robin for the first time, so they could experience it for themselves. And they, too, discovered the incredible, amazing difference between a McDonald’s burger and a Red Robin burger.

When we encounter Jesus, when we experience the life and light that God brings into our lives, we see God as we have never seen God before. God had always sought out a relationship with God’s people, but Jesus brought that relationship to a whole new level. Suddenly, there was a flesh-and-blood model of God’s love for us. There was God, being a part of the world that God created, living among the sinful humans that God had been loving, teaching, forgiving, and trying to redeem since the beginning of time. Jesus gives us the opportunity to have a deeper, transforming relationship with the creator of the world. To realize how much God loves us. To experience the life that God can offer us. To shine God’s light and chase away the darkness in our lives. From that relationship with God, we become all that God created us to be and more than we ever imagined we could be. And we can partner with God to point to Jesus and transform the world.

The question that we (you, me, everyone) can ask ourselves is: what is our response to Jesus?

· First, have we opened our eyes and our hearts to experience that relationship with God and that love that transforms our lives? Have we experienced that epiphany? Have we allowed ourselves to experience that epiphany?

When I’m not keeping up with my two young children, I work as a chaplain at DePaul Medical Center in Norfolk. Earlier this week, I had a visit with a patient who I’m going to call Lewis. He’s essentially an agnostic, because while he’s willing to acknowledge God’s existence, he confesses that he does not have faith. Lewis told me that he would love to have faith in God, but he just doesn’t. After I left his room (following a long conversation), it occurred to me that the main reason that Lewis doesn’t have faith yet is that he simply has not had that epiphany experience…he hasn’t had his eyes opened to the amazing power of God’s love.

· Second, how do our lives reflect our experience, our relationship with Jesus? Is God’s life-light blazing in us and through us in such a way that others are drawn to God? Do others see us giving and receiving the grace of God, and therefore helping others to know and love God? Are we living like people who have had their eyes opened by God’s love, or are we still stumbling in the darkness?

One of our other chaplains is a man named Father Leo, who is a Catholic priest. A few months ago, I was having a conversation with a patient, and the patient’s wife asked me if I know Father Leo. I said yes, I do know him. She then said this, which has stuck with me over the past few months: “When he (Father Leo) walks into a room, the love coming from him is so strong that it’s like Jesus himself just walked into the room.”

Wow…when my colleague walks into a room, the love coming from him and through him is so strong that it’s like Jesus himself just walked into the room.

When I heard that, my first thought was, “wow, I want to be like that.”

A few years ago, Joan Osborne had a song that became very popular. It’s called “One of Us”. I’m going to play a video set to that song. While you watch, reflect on what you see and hear.

[Play “One of Us” video]

· http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OQkO09FUlBk&list=FL7T9_-eKartAQYICSPeJi4A&index=3&feature=plpp_video

God does have a name. God does have a face. God did become one of us, just a slob like one of us. In Jesus, we are able to experience God’s love for us and God’s love for this world…and share that love, that life, that light, with those who haven’t experienced it yet…and what God wants to ask us is: what is our response?

All In: Because I Can't Do Anything Else

2011-12-10T21:44:00.000-05:00

On Thursday morning, I will drive to the District Office and sit down with my District Superintendent for an hour or so to discuss my desire to go off family leave and go back under appointment as a local church pastor. Part of our conversation will center around the gifts and graces that I bring to ministry, so that he will be able to best discern what sort of church would be best for me. However, I also expect that my District Superintendent (as well as the Conference Relations Committee, with whom I will interview in February), will ask me the question, "why do you want to become a pastor again? Why don't you continue being a chaplain?"

That's a perfectly reasonable question, and on paper, being a career chaplain would make a lot of sense. I do believe that I have the gifts and graces to make chaplaincy a career. Being a chaplain would mean that I would not have to worry about the United Methodist itinerant system and could be assured that I would be able to stay in the area. Being a chaplain would mean a fairly regular schedule and stricter boundaries between my family and my job, which is an advantage with younger children. Being a chaplain would mean that I wouldn't have to deal with the realities of local church politics (I'm not saying that health care setting don't have politics, but the local church's emotional system is an entirely different animal), which can be excruciatingly painful for pastors.

Despite all the above, being a career chaplain just isn't an option for me. Over the past year, I have realized with amazing clarity what God has been trying to tell me for 18 years, and what I've been fighting for 15 years: that I am called to be a pastor in the local church. And if that is what God is calling me to do and who God is calling me to be...then I can't do anything else and still be faithful to God.

The concepts of "calling" and "vocation" are sometimes difficult to explain to people who may be unfamiliar with those terms and/or are still searching for their true calling. John Stott, a renowned theologian who died a few months ago, is remembered as saying "Go where your gifts will be exploited the most." Frederich Buechner, another theologian, is known for saying, "Your vocation is where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet."

Both of those statements apply to how I feel about chaplaincy versus ministry in the local church. Being a pastor is how my gifts will be most exploited. Being a pastor is where my deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet. In plainer, less theological terms, being a pastor is how God will work through me the best, and how I will best become who God is calling me to be.

For me, being a chaplain is almost easy. Don't get me wrong; it is often very painful and challenging work. There are days and nights when I go home exhausted because I have heard too much, dealt with too much, been exposed to too much pain and suffering. Chaplaincy is hard work; it is not a walk in the park. What I mean by "too easy" is that FOR ME, I am able to be a darn good chaplain (based on my self-assessment, the feedback I receive from patients and families, and my evaluations) while using my latent gifts and abilities and not leaning on God a whole bunch. After all, I was serving as a chaplain for several years during my "spiritual wilderness" before the Great Awakening of Late 2010, and doing a perfectly good job. So, in saying that being a chaplain is "too easy", I guess I mean that I'm able to be fairly effective at it without needing to fully rely on God...and that's kind of dangerous.

However, for me, being a pastor is much, much more challenging. I know it's what God is calling me to do and who God is calling me to be, and I know that I have the gifts and graces to be a fantastic pastor...if I give myself fully to God and rely on God's grace, wisdom, and strength on a daily basis. And going back to the "where my gifts will be most exploited"...I know that some of my greatest gifts will be far more "exploited" as a pastor than as a chaplain.

So, why am I going back to being a pastor? Because it's the only option for me...it's the only way that I can be faithful to God, the only way to fully utilize the gifts that God has given to me, the only way to become who God is calling Patti to be. I have to be a pastor. I can't do anything else. And I don't want to do anything else...because what I want most in the world is to hear and obey God's will...no matter where God leads me.

I'm "all in"...and what a wild ride it's going to be.

A Little Dose of Grace

2011-12-01T20:58:00.000-05:00

"for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus." Romans 3:23-24

For the past two years, I've been working as a "PRN" (as-needed) chaplain for a local health system. I work at two hospitals whose spiritual care departments function autonomously but share a budget and the three PRNs (of which I am one). My official boss is a man I'll call Joe, who runs the Spiritual Care department at Maryview. However, I spend a lot of time working at DePaul (because they need me more), and the manager of that Spiritual Care department is a man I'll call Bert, and of course I report to Bert whenever I work at DePaul (although I think if Bert ever wanted to fire me, he would have to consult with Joe). It sounds confusing, but it's not, mostly because Joe and Bert are so incredibly gracious and easy to get along with (and they get along with each other). I have been very blessed to work with them for the past two years, and I will greatly miss them (and the rest of the chaplains) when I leave in June.

A few days ago, it occurred to me to ask Joe and Bert to each send me a letter of recommendation to my District Superintendent, to better aid my D.S. in understanding my gifts, graces, and growing edges in ministry. I hate asking for favors, and I hate asking people to say nice things about me to other people, so this was rather difficult for me. This morning, I summoned up the courage and made the calls. I called Joe first, and he readily agreed to write me a letter of recommendation. Whew. Next, I called Bert, who was out of the office (he is, after all, a chaplain), so I left a voice mail. When Bert called back about 20 minutes later, the conversation went like this:
B: Hi Patti, I was worried when I heard your voice mail.
P: Um...
B: You were supposed to work today...I was wondering if someone was sick or something came up.
(I was supposed to arrive at work between 10:30 and noon and work until 6pm. It was now 12:15. I was in jeans, had Susanna in the backseat, and was on my way to my mom's to pick up Greg. I had TOTALLY FORGOTTEN. It wasn't even in my calendar.)
P: Ohmygosh Ohmygosh Bert, I'm sososo sorry...
(Patti blabbers on apologetically for a minute or so).

And Bert...just took it all in stride. He accepted my apology, was beyond understanding, accepting my humanity, my occasionally frantic life...and when I offered to do everything in my power to get there ASAP, he told me that it was OK (probably knowing that I would have to move heaven and earth, or at least bribe my mother, in order to get childcare at such short notice).

In the course of our conversation, I let it slip that I had called to ask him a question. Bert asked me what the question was, and I sort of fudged around and said, "maybe now's not a good time to ask it." He told me to ask it anyway. So, I sheepishly gave him the same spiel I had given Joe (going back under appointment, wanting my DS to know more about my gifts and graces, etc) and Bert readily agreed to write a letter for me. Even though I had totally failed him today. Even though my failure most likely meant that he would need to stay at work a few hours later, and not have an extra chaplain to help him out. Even though I've made other mistakes in the past.

I deserved a lecture and/or tongue-lashing, but I didn't get it. Instead, I received gentleness and understanding.
Some supervisors would seriously consider firing me, but there was no hint of that in Bert's words.
I definitely did not deserve for him to agree to write a letter of reference of my behalf, but he did.

When I hung up the phone, I was nearly in tears, both because of my embarrassment and because of Bert's...grace.

That's what I received today...a dose of grace from Bert. I received far, far more than I deserved. It was a fantastic example of the grace God gives us each and every day of our lives.

Even after we come to faith, we still struggle with our sinful and imperfect nature every day of our lives. We continue to fall short of the ideal, but God continues to forgive us, lift us up, and offer us second...and third...and fourth...and fifth...and five millionth...chances. God does not dwell on who we have been or who we are, but who we can be. When we fail God and expect condemnation, God merely helps us up, dusts us off, and walks with us on our way. God redeems and restores us, time and time again. We don't deserve it, which makes it even sweeter when it happens.

I think Cathleen Falsani describes grace in a great way: "Grace is like receiving a bowl of watermelon gazpacho when you were expecting Taco Bell."

So today, I'm thanking God for continuously giving me bowls of watermelon gazpacho instead of Taco Bell.

The Prayer That Changed My Life

2011-11-24T20:22:00.001-05:00

Last year, Lauren posted about the Christmas Novena, a prayer that is part of the Catholic tradition and one that many Catholics say during the Christmas season. Its origin is found in St. Andrew (disciple of Jesus), but the prayer is directed towards God. The idea is to pray it 15 times a day, every day, from November 30 to December 24. According to tradition, it has never been known to fail...meaning that it's the sort of prayer that people offer up when they desperately want to receive a specific blessing.

After I read Lauren's post last year, my mother and I decided to each pray the Christmas Novena. We're ecumenical like that: a prayer to God is a prayer to God (and Mom was raised Catholic, although she's now Methodist). She was in month five (or six?) of chemotherapy for Triple Negative Breast Cancer (this type of breast cancer does not respond to any hormonal therapies and the only way to treat it is through chemo and radiation). In addition to the chemotherapy, Mom had also had two mastectomies and a skin graft. I was not ready for my mother to die (and I'm still not ready), and while she was "ready" to die in the spiritual sense, she certainly wanted (and still wants to) live for a few more years. So, Mom and I agreed to each pray the Novena and ask God that she would be cured of cancer.

And yes, the Novena "worked", in the sense that two days after we started praying, Mom's oncologist told her that she was responding so well to treatment that he was stopping the chemo, and would order six weeks of radiation, after which his hope and expectation was that the cancer would go into remission. A year later, she is still "NED" (No Evidence of Disease), which means that the cancer is not showing up on any scans. For that alone, I am praising God, because I have hope that my mother will live long enough for my children to remember her.

However, something else miraculous happened as a result of that time of dedicated prayer: my relationship with God, my relationship with the church, and my sense of calling were also renewed. Up until that point, I had spent two years angry at God and angry at the church because of my experience in my first appointment. I still went to church, but it was more out of obligation and habit than a deep desire to connect with God and other Christians. We attended worship most weeks, but that was it. I prayed before each meal, but otherwise didn't really talk to God. I had absolutely no desire to ever be a pastor again, and while I was applying to lots of chaplain jobs (and was working as a chaplain on an as-needed basis), my turning to chaplaincy was more out of a sense of resignation than a real sense of calling. In so many ways, I was spiritually and emotionally bankrupt.

Through the discipline of praying 15 times a day, my heart began to be softened towards God. In the first week of December, Randy (my pastor) sent an e-mail to a few of us who had seminary/pastoral experience, and offered up a preaching opportunity for the first Sunday in January. I felt a nudging in my soul to jump at it, so I did, committing myself to preach for the first time in 18 months. In front of 200+ people. As I began preparing for that experience, I had no choice but to turn to God for inspiration, strength, and wisdom. As a result, God brought me to my knees one morning, and my relationship with God was restored. In essence, I "forgave" God for everything that had happened over the past two years (yes, I realize that it's somewhat theologically backwards to forgive the creator of the universe whose human manifestation was perfect and sinless, but it's the best way for me to describe what happened), and I asked God to forgive me for my lack of faith and obedience. It was an awesome moment, much like the reunion of two friends who were on the "outs", but who realized that they couldn't and didn't want to live without each other.

Things just kept snowballing from there. I began to sense God calling me back to the church, and back into pastoral ministry. When I preached in January, the joy and fulfillment I felt in that experience (and the positive feedback I received from my sermon) reminded me of how much I love preaching the Word. I began getting more involved at Oak Grove, including being part of the Church Council and the Finance committee (Randy put me on both when I affiliated with the church as a clergy member). Randy's sermons began making me cry because God would speak through them to remind me of Whose I am and who I am. Actually, they still make me cry: we're up to 13 times in the past year. One of the greatest gifts that Oak Grove and Randy have given me is the ability to hear God's voice over all the others, and the confidence and freedom to do whatever it is that God is calling me to do.

When I look at the Patti that I see in November 2011, she is so vastly different than the Patti from November 2010. I've fallen back in love with God, and back in love with the people of God (meaning the church). I've rediscovered my calling to be a pastor, and God has shown me the gifts that He's given me that I had forgotten about...and some that I never knew I had. Where before my heart was covered in a protective layer of stone (so as to prevent myself from being hurt again), it has now broken free of that stone and as a result, I have become so much more willing to open myself up and to reach out to people with the love of God. I am now much more willing to take leaps of faith, resting solely on the promise that as I follow God's will, God will be with me, no matter what happens. That promise will be what will carry me through the next six months, as I prepare to make the biggest leap of faith in my 35 years of life: to go off family leave, to request a full-time pastoral appointment, and to go back to serving as a pastor, knowing that most likely, I will once again wind up being hurt and disappointed by the church. However, I know being a pastor is what God has called me to be, and where (in the words of John Stott), "my gifts will be most exploited". I simply can't be anything else but a pastor.

And all that happened as a result of a prayer that I prayed 15 times a day for three weeks. It's proof that when we open our hearts to God through prayer, we risk being transformed as well. True, the Novena "worked", in the sense that Mom is disease-free and back to her normal self. However, I got cured from my own spiritual and emotional maladies, and that miracle never ceases to amaze me.

I will be praying the Novena again this year. I'm not going to share the specifics of my request (I'm still figuring them out myself), but it will involve Oak Grove...and something so amazing happening there that God's power and presence will be the only way to explain what transpires.

I invite you to join me in praying the Christmas Novena, for whatever miracle you might need to happen in your life or church right now. However, be prepared. This is a powerful prayer and God is an amazing God. Your life might wind up being transformed, just like mine has been.

Hail and blessed be the hour and moment
in which the Son of God was born of the Most pure Virgin Mary
at midnight in Bethlehem, in piercing cold.
In that hour, vouchsafe, o my God!
to hear my prayer and grant my desires,
through the merits of our Savior Jesus Christ
and of His Blessed Mother.
Amen.

Sermon: November 9

2011-11-21T21:04:00.001-05:00

I preached at our Wednesday night service on November 9. Here's the text of the sermon. Not a bad one, especially since I was recovering from bronchitis and wrote it while high on codeine-laced cough medicine. Sermon is after the "jump."

Rev. Patti Money

Oak Grove UMC

Joshua 1:1-9

November 9, 2011

“Be Strong and Courageous”

Lois Gibbs was an ordinary American woman, living an ordinary life in upstate New York in the late 7os. She prided herself on being a suburban wife and mother, and that’s all she ever wanted to do and be. She did not have a college degree. She was not an activist. She had never given a speech in public, and in fact had intentionally skipped school when required to give presentations in class. However, Lois and her husband had settled in Love Canal, New York. They owned a home. Their children attended the local schools. When her son began to suffer health problems, when other children in the area began to suffer health problems, when Lois and other residents discovered that their town was built on the site of a toxic waste dump, she was faced with a choice: stay silent, and watch her family and friends suffer the health and financial consequences, or gather her courage, speak up, and force local and national authorities to take notice and take action. Over thirty years later, we know what choice she made, and the difference that choice made in her family, in her community, and in this nation. In 1978, Lois Gibbs was an ordinary wife and mother, living an ordinary life in her community. In 2011, her name is synonymous with the Love Canal situation, and our world is a better and cleaner place largely because of her activism…and all because when faced with a giant problem, she, who used to tremble at the thought of speaking in public, rose to the challenge and showed great strength and courage.

Sometimes, like Lois Gibbs, we are presented with giants…problems, challenges, obstacles…that seem beyond our ability to conquer. Our human instinct is to quiver in fear, to flee in terror, or to hide our heads in the sand and hope that someone else will take care of it. But that’s not what God calls us to do. God calls us to face our fears…to stand strong…to take action. And God promises that He will be with us, and will give us everything we need.

There’s a story in the Bible about that. It’s found in Joshua 1:1-9. Let me give you a little bit of background. God had rescued the Israelites from Egyptian slavery, and Moses had led them to the edge of the land that God had promised to give them. Through it all, the Israelites complained and whined, and God continued to provide for them, both materially and spiritually. Finally, they arrived at the Promised Land, and God instructed Moses to send in twelve spies to “scope out the place”. Ten of the spies returned and said, “Yeah, it’s great…except there are giants, and fortified cities, and armies…and it’s just impossible. If we try and invade it, we’re toast.” Two of the spies returned and said, “OK, all that is true…but it’s an amazing land, God has given it to us, God will be with us, and with God we can do anything.” Guess which spies the Israelites listened to? The negative ones, of course. As a result, the people of God spent forty years wandering the wilderness, and an entire generation (including Moses) did not get to enter the Promised Land. All because in the moment of truth, they chose to give in to fear rather than step forward in faith and courage.

Fast forward forty years, and a new generation of Israelites are getting ready to enter the Promised Land. Here is what God says to them:

^NRSJoshua 1:1 After the death of Moses the servant of the LORD, the LORD spoke to Joshua son of Nun, Moses' assistant, saying, ² "My servant Moses is dead. Now proceed to cross the Jordan, you and all this people, into the land that I am giving to them, to the Israelites. ³ Every place that the sole of your foot will tread upon I have given to you, as I promised to Moses. ⁴ From the wilderness and the Lebanon as far as the great river, the river Euphrates, all the land of the Hittites, to the Great Sea in the west shall be your territory. ⁵ No one shall be able to stand against you all the days of your life. As I was with Moses, so I will be with you; I will not fail you or forsake you. ⁶ Be strong and courageous; for you shall put this people in possession of the land that I swore to their ancestors to give them. ⁷ Only be strong and very courageous, being careful to act in accordance with all the law that my servant Moses commanded you; do not turn from it to the right hand or to the left, so that you may be successful wherever you go. ⁸ This book of the law shall not depart out of your mouth; you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to act in accordance with all that is written in it. For then you shall make your way prosperous, and then you shall be successful. ⁹ I hereby command you: Be strong and courageous; do not be frightened or dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go."

Be strong and courageous…for I am with you…do not be frightened…obey me…believe in me and in my promises…and you will be successful…I will be with you…be strong and courageous…I am with you. Those are the words that God spoke to the Israelites. This time, with Joshua as their (literally) fearless leader, the Israelites did take over the Promised Land…and were successful. Yes, there were casualties. Yes, there were struggles. Yes, it was not all sunshine and roses. But they claimed what God said was theirs…and they were successful in doing so, because they chose to step forward in faith, in courage, in strength, and in obedience…because they believed in God’s promises rather than their own fear and doubt.

Here in modern-day America, we’re not in the business of conquering land and armies in God’s name. But, we still face situations when God requires us to be strong and courageous, when we are called to obey God’s voice over the voice of others, when we are called to step out boldly in faith rather than shrink back in fear. It’s different for all of us: it may be beginning a new job in a new career, choosing a new treatment for an illness, speaking up against injustice that we see, or moving to a new area and beginning a whole new life.

Here are Oak Grove, one of the greatest challenges we’ve faced has been financial…I’m on the finance committee and church council, so I’ve seen this struggle firsthand over the past ten or so months. We have an incredible vision from God, a pastor, staff, and leadership who are extremely gifted, and as a result we have a church culture that is incredibly unique and innovative, especially among our United Methodist peers. And all of that is paying off…in professions of faith, in worship attendance, in the number of small groups and Sunday school classes we offer…and the amount of people involved in those. Lives are being touched and transformed in a major way here at Oak Grove. My life, and the life of my husband and those of my children, is among those that have been transformed. God is clearly doing amazing things, and could do even more amazing things in the next few years. However, we’re also facing a giant…a giant mortgage, to be exact, and contributions that are not meeting our needs. And when times get tough…when we are struggling financially, when there are fears about our future, when the words “Bank of Hampton Roads” finds us sweating and quivering in our boots (or Nikes, or Danskos, or whatever you wear on your feet)…it’s very tempting to give in to the fear and doubt, to want to give up, to blame God and whoever it is we perceive led us to this point…to stick our heads in the sand, hum a jaunty tune, and hope it all goes away. But none of those responses reflect faith, strength, obedience, or courage. None of them are pleasing to God, and none of them will help Oak Grove continue to fulfill the vision God has given us. Because, my friends, God is still with us. God has called us to be bold, to be courageous, to place our trust and hope and faith in Him and the only way through our current problems and obstacles is through listening for and obeying God’s voice, and pushing aside the voices of fear, and doubt, and despair.

When things seem hardest, when things seems most impossible, it is then that we need to believe in and cling to a vision that is beyond ourselves, and listen to the voice that tells us that vision is possible, and that we are not alone. It’s what Lois Gibbs did; she saw a vision of a safe community, of healthy parents and children, of justice and wrongs made right. She faced her fears of public speaking, of her self-doubts and feelings of inadequacy. She didn’t wait for “someone else” to come along and act…she went into action because the consequences of not acting were too great. She was bold, she was strong, she was courageous, and she helped change her world. It’s what the Israelites did in Promise Land Takeover part 2: they saw God’s vision of the land God would give them, believed in God’s promise to be with them, and faced their fears of the giants, of the armies, of the fortified cities…they knew from experience (of forty years wandering the desert) that the consequences of not following God’s vision were far greater than the possibility of following God and failing.

Be strong and courageous…for I am with you…do not be frightened…obey me…believe in me and in my promises…and you will be successful…I will be with you…be strong and courageous…I am with you. Those are words that God spoke to the Israelites thousands of years ago…and when they listened to God, took those words to heart, and obeyed God’s call on their life, they changed the world. They are also the same sort of words that Lois Gibbs heard thirty years ago, and when she listened to them, took those words to heart, and obeyed God’s call on her life, she changed her world. God has been speaking those words to God’s people for generations, and is still speaking them to our hearts today. The question for us here in this room, for us here at Oak Grove, is two-fold: what is God calling us to do, and what are we going to do about it? Are we going to give in to fears, self-doubts, and give up? Are we going to hum a jaunty tune and hope it goes away? Or are we going to be bold and face our fears, and be courageous and believe that God can make the impossible possible? Are we going to step forward in faith and obediently follow the vision God has given us?

I Needed to Read This...Maybe You, Too?

2011-07-21T11:29:00.000-04:00

Sometimes being a mom (and for me, a stay-at-home mom) is just overwhelming. Here's a column from the one and only Erma Bombeck that puts in all in perspective:

Why Don’t You Grow Up?
By Erma Bombeck

One of these days you’ll explode and shout, “Why don’t you grow up and act your age”
…and they will. OR:
“You guys get outside and find yourselves something to do and don’t slam the door!”
… and they don’t.
You’ll straighten up the boy’s bedroom neat and tidy, stickers discarded, bedspreads tucked neat and smooth, toys on the shelves. Hangers in the closet. Animals in their places. And you’ll say out loud, “Now I want it to stay that way and it will.
You’ll prepare a perfect dinner with a salad that isn’t picked to death and a cake with no finger traces in the icing and you’ll say, “Now there’s a meal for company.”
…and you’ll eat it alone.
You’ll say: “I want privacy on the phone, no fooling around. No demolition crews. Silence! Do you hear me?”
…and you’ll have it.
No more plastic tablecloths stained with spaghetti sauce.
No more bedspreads to protect the sofa from wet bottoms.
No more gates to stumble over at the top of the stairs.
No more anxious nights under a vaporizer tent.
No more sand on the sheets or Popeye movies in the bathroom.
No more iron on patches wet knotted shoestrings, or rubber bands for ponytails.
Imagine. A lipstick with a point on it.
No baby sitter for New Year’s Eve.
Washing only once a week.
Having your teeth cleaned without a baby on your lap.
No PTA meetings.
No car pools.
No blaring radios.
No one washing her hair at 11 o’clock at night.
Having your own roll of Scotch tape.
Think about it. No more Christmas presents out of toothpicks and library paste.
No more sloppy oatmeal kisses.
No more tooth fairy.
No giggles in the dark.
No knees to heal. No responsibility.
Only a voice crying,” Why don’t you grow up?’ and the silence echoing, “I did.”

Sometimes It Just Takes a Curtain Call

2011-07-13T19:30:00.000-04:00

This is my favorite story about my little brother, Bart. I thought I'd put it here for posterity.

People who have known me for any length of time are aware that I have a younger brother, named Bart, who is three years younger than me and has "intellectual disabilities." Essentially, Bart functions at the level of a four-year-old most of the time. He lives in a group home/apartment situation about ten miles from my parents and has such a busy social life that he has to squeeze us into his schedule. Or, at least it seems that way sometimes. (:

Years and years ago (when we were teenagers), Bart was attending a school for disabled children that was religiously based. At the very least, he had a religion lesson on a regular basis. One day, around Easter time, Bart came home from school appearing very sad. When my mom asked him what was wrong, he said, "Jesus died." Apparently, Bart had learned the Easter story that day...but all he understood was that Jesus had died. He hadn't grasped that Jesus rose again. Of course, Mom responded with something along the lines of, "But then Jesus rose again, and Jesus lives in our hearts." No dice. When my dad came home, he tried to explain to Bart that Jesus died, but he rose again. All he got was, "Jesus died" and a very sad expression.

The next day, my mom asked Bart's religion teacher to re-explain the Easter story to him. She did, but Bart just couldn't understand the concept of the resurrection...he couldn't move from Good Friday to Easter Sunday. My parents tried again...I even tried...to no avail. "Jesus died", and that was it. Eventually, we gave the situation over the God, because we were at our wits end.

Fast forward a few months...for my birthday that year, my parents took the family to see "Jesus Christ, Superstar" at Wolf Trap (big outdoor arena in Northern Virginia). We packed a picnic, sat out on the lawn, and enjoyed the show. If you've never seen "Jesus Christ, Superstar", then I'll tell you that it's a musical (very loosely) based on the last week of Jesus' life. Lots of poetic license.

At the end of the show, Jesus is on the cross, and the background changes and soft music plays as he is lifted up into the rafters. Bart was with us, of course, and I could see him looking sad as he watch this. Jesus had died, after all. The show was over, and Jesus was dead.

The show may have been over, but there was more excitement to come...

What happens at the end of every dramatic performance?

The Curtain call

In groups and pairs, the performers came back on stage for their bows. Finally, the actor who played Jesus walked onto the stage to thundering applause and a standing ovation. As pseudo-Jesus came out, Bart's face lit up and he exclaimed, "Jesus lives! Mom, Dad, Patti...Jesus lives!" And we heard him proclaim that for the rest of the evening...as we left the lawn, as we rode the shuttle to our car, as we drove home...we heard Bart proclaiming, at the top of his lungs, the essence of the Gospel: that Jesus died, rose again, and still lives today.

Sometimes God works in the most amazing and unexpected ways to touch our hearts and open our eyes, including curtain calls of Andrew Lloyd Weber musicals.

Blast from the Past or The Internet is Amazing

2011-07-03T21:57:00.000-04:00

Way back in 1999, when my bacherlor's degree from Emory & Henry College was fresh off the press, I took a job as the Administrative Assistant at an Episcopal church in Northern Virginia. I wasn't quite ready to go to seminary, and my degree in religion didn't make me very marketable in the job market. Church jobs (like as a youth minister) were few, far between, and competitive. So, after a few months of looking and dead-end temp jobs, I found out about this position, interviewed for it, and was hired on the spot. I worked at St. Francis for a year and a half, and left to attend Asbury. James and I were actually married at St. Francis (with two officiants: one Methodist and one Baptist) and held our reception in their fellowship hall.

One of the priests that I worked with was named Hentzi. He was the younger of the two and was the Associate Rector. Hentzi took me under his wing and we spent a lot of time talking about life and ministry and theology. Twelve years ago, he had been married for about ten years and had two young children. He was also the age that I am right now. I have a feeling that we were both jealous of the others' life at times...me wanting a spouse and children and him wanting PEACE AND QUIET. I now understand how he felt, and why he wanted to wring my neck some days. (: Right after James and I got married (and moved to Kentucky), Hentzi and his family moved to a new church, and we lost contact.

But! Through the wonders of the Internet, a Google search, and his unique name, I found my long-lost friend and mentor. I left a comment on his blog, and we shall see if he a) actually remembers me, b) remembers me fondly or as that ditzy administrative assistance, and c) responds.

Regardless of the outcome, it was nice to find out that Hentzi is alive and well, and so are his wife and children. And once again, I think the Internet is amazing.

Now, my next task is to track down Bob, the other priest I worked with...maybe he has a blog as well?

Been To Annual Conference

2011-06-23T17:46:00.000-04:00

Last week was the Virginia Annual Conference. For you non-Methodist folks, that's the annual gathering of clergy and lay delegates from across Virginia. It was held in Roanoke, so I was there from Wednesday afternoon through Saturday afternoon (it actually continued into Sunday afternoon, but I was a) on-call on Saturday night and b) scheduled to be the liturgist at the 8:15 service on Sunday. I needed the money from being on-call and didn't want to miss an opportunity to lead worship at Oak Grove (I am SUCH A GEEK), so I left on Saturday afternoon.

The kids came to Roanoke with me, of course. Actually, Susanna was already there, because my rock star mother-in-law, Nina, had taken her for a few days. Nina lives just outside Roanoke, so we stayed there, because it was free (as a clergy person on leave, I am responsible for ALL my expenses for attending AC). They had childcare for kids 3 and up during the daytime sessions, so Susanna went to that. Nina (who is retired) watched Greg during the day and both kids one night and on Saturday morning (see: ROCK STAR status).

I got to re-connect with a few friends: I had dinner with a former pastor who is now a friend (Hi Dave!), a clergy friend from my Danville days (Hi Susan!), and my college roommate (Hi Laura!). I also attended the Emory & Henry Alumni luncheon, where I lowered the average age by about ten years (seriously, at one point I think I was the only person under 45, and most people were over 55). I also got to have brief catch-up conversations with other friends who I hadn't seen in a while. The past two years, I've only attended AC on Monday because a) it was local (in Norfolk) and b) I simply didn't have the time to attend the whole event (in 2009 I was doing my residency, and last year I was nursing Greg and my mom had just started chemo). It was nice to see a lot of familiar faces.

It was also nice to really and truly put on my "clergy hat" for four days. My primary identity for the past two years has been that of a stay-at-home mom and wife. I'm not knocking that, but it's nice to embrace another identity. Many people at Oak Grove know that I'm clergy, and Randy has been really gracious about giving me room to utilize and explore my gifts, but 90% of the time I function as a lay person. That's fine, but it was really really nice to be with other clergy and explore that part of my identity.

This year was a voting year. Every four years we have General Conference (Methodists around the world) and Jurisdictional Conference (Methodists from a particular region, such as the southeast US) and we elect clergy and lay delegates to attend those events. In the past few years, the rules have been changed so that provisional members (of which I am one) can vote for delegates to GC and JC. It was sort of fun, although also a long and tedious process.

The preaching and worship were amazing, as always. Rev. Dr. Sam Wells (the dean of the chapel at Duke) was our preacher, and HOLY COW, can he preach. If I'm ever in Durham on a Sunday, I will attend worship at Duke Chapel just so I can hear Sam preach again. Actually, I can also listen to/watch his sermons on the Internet, and I may explore that option. Really, he is THAT good.

There were two bittersweet aspects of Annual Conference this year. First, our bishop was very ill and was unable to attend Annual Conference. She's recovering now, but was in no shape to preside over AC. Instead, we had another bishop (Bishop Whitaker of the Florida Conference) "sub" for her. He did a phenomenal job, but it just wasn't the same without Bishop Kammerer. Second, the rest of my provisional class (the group of people who were commissioned with me) were ordained this year. There are a couple others in my class who have not been ordained yet, but about 95% of the class has been ordained. I am so, so proud of those who were ordained, and I know that I am where God wants me to be...but it was hard to watch from the congregation and know that it will be at least 2014 before I am ordained.

I'm already looking forward to next year's Annual Conference (which will be in Roanoke again), and also looking forward to the moment when I see my name listed as the new pastor of a church. Since I'll have a per diem, I'm also looking forward to staying in a hotel within walking distance and not having to drive back and forth each day. That gets tiring and eats up a lot of gas and time.

Sermon for May's Healing Service

2011-05-05T19:13:00.001-04:00

Because Randy (my pastor) has been traveling a bunch over the past week, he let me preach at this month's healing service (we have a healing service on the first Wednesday of each month).

Here's the text of the sermon I preached. You can read it after the "jump":

Rev. Patti Money

Romans 8:35-39

Healing Service

Oak Grove UMC

May 4, 2011

Three years ago today, I stood in the pulpit of the small, United Methodist church I had been serving for the past two years, and announced that after that day, I would not be their pastor. I had been planning to move to a new appointment at the end of June (in the United Methodist Church, pastoral appointments are made from July 1 to June 30), but had made the difficult decision to take a leave of absence, effective immediately, because things with the congregation had gotten so bad that I feared for my emotional and spiritual health, and that of my family. I had my District Superintendent's (the pastor who supervises all the pastors in an area) full support and my husband's support, but it was, and still is, the hardest decision I've ever made. However, the six months prior to my departure, I had received countless emotional and spiritual wounds (and, to be honest, I had probably wounded people, too), had been the worst of my life, and I do not make that statement lightly. I hoped that removing me from that situation would allow myself, my family, and the congregation, to begin healing. And indeed, the healing process did begin for all of us involved. We moved here to Chesapeake, I worked as a chaplain and focused on my family, I gave birth to our second child, and I was able to process and grieve and think through some of what I had experienced. However, what I didn't realize was how difficult the healing process would be and how long it would take. In some ways, healing from the wounds I received was a more painful process, emotionally and spiritually, than the wounds themselves. It involved forgiving people in the congregation, forgiving myself, forgiving the church as an institution, asking God to forgive me…and even, as incredibly backward as this sounds…forgiving God and renewing that relationship. The healing process took a long time: as I mentioned, it was three years ago that I left that congregation, and it's only been in the last few months that I've been able to declare myself fully healed from that experience.

I'm not going to go into any more detail about either my experience as a pastor or my healing process for two reasons. First, it would take far too long; we’d be here until 9:30 or 10:00, and you all have better things to do. If you're really dying to hear my story, give me a call, shoot me an e-mail, and I'll happily share it with you. We can get together and I'll tell you the whole story. Second, I'm not going into detail because this service is not about me: it's about all of us, and most importantly, it's about our God, whose healing love, grace, power, and presence in the world is the reason we're here tonight.

I shared my own experience with you for one main reason: because you don’t know me very well, and I want you to know that as I use the terms “we” and “us”, as I talk about wounds and healing and hope, and as I share good news, that I have experienced wounds and needed God’s healing, too. It helps to know that the person giving you good news has “been there” in a manner of speaking.

The apostle Paul found himself in a similar situation when he wrote the letter to the Roman church. We see it in the book of Romans, which is in the New Testament. Paul had never visited this church, so while they were surely familiar with him, they had never met him and only knew him by reputation. However, since Paul was probably a household name in the first-century Christian world, the Romans probably had heard a decent amount about him. This passage I’m about to read comes from Romans 8:35-39:

Romans 8:35 -39⁵ Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? ³⁶ As it is written, "For your sake we are being killed all day long; we are accounted as sheep to be slaughtered." ³⁷ No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. ³⁸ For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, ³⁹ nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

The apostle Paul had experienced, or would experience, every situation mentioned in verse 35: he had been beaten, he had been imprisoned, he had been stranded on an island, and he would lose his life by being beheaded for his faith in Jesus. Paul endured incredible persecution; his life had been extremely difficult since becoming a Christian, and the Romans knew it. So, when they read these verses about nothing being able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord, the message rang true. If Paul, who had endured so much suffering in his life, could believe and proclaim such assurance and faith, so could they, even as they endured hardships and trials and persecution and even as they were wounded emotionally, physically and spiritually.

We are here because we are a broken people who live in a broken world, and we have wounds that are hurting us, and we need healing. Whatever those wounds may be: physical, emotional, spiritual, or a combination, we come here because we need the healing that only God can provide.

Healing can take a very long time…it can be a long process, with two steps forward and one step back, or even one step forward and two steps back. There can be periods of time when it seems like no progress is being made, and then periods of time when it seems total healing is just around the corner. It can take months. It can take years. It can even take a lifetime. And it can be frustrating, infuriating, agonizing, painful…any or all of the above. I can speak from my own experience that when we are in the midst of suffering and when we are healing from our wounds, it can be hard to believe that God loves us, that God is present with us, that God is not punishing us. Sometimes these feelings come from others, who hint that we’re “getting what we deserve”, that this ordeal is “God’s way of teaching us a lesson or making us stronger”. Sometimes these feelings come from inside of us, from our own sense of unworthiness, our own frustration with our prayer life, our feeling that God is distant, and our fear that we’re not doing something “right.”

This passage I just read from Romans 8 speaks to those feelings in a real and powerful way. It says that nothing and no one can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord…not the forces of darkness, not physical suffering, not unemployment, not poverty, not anything we do, or anything anyone else does to us, not the future and not the past…not even death can separate us from God’s love. We can be assured that no matter what we are going through, what suffering we are enduring, whether physical, emotional, or spiritual, that God is present with us, and will never leave us. In the midst of our struggles, in the midst of our pain, in the midst of our healing, that God’s love for us will never change, that God will always be present with us, God will always work in our lives, and that God will never give up on us or stop loving us. That is good news indeed.

Love Wins: A Review

2011-04-08T20:19:00.002-04:00

Some of you may have heard about Rob Bell's controversial new book, Love Wins: A Book About Heaven, Hell, and the Fate of Every Person Who Ever Lived (click on the name for the link to Amazon's page on the book). This book has stirred up a lot of controversy in the Christian community because a number of people believe that Bell has just tossed over two millennium of Christian doctrine out like bathwater.

I bought the book on Kindle because I wanted to read it and come to my own conclusions. It's a somewhat short book, but not really a quick read because Bell uses a lot of scripture and historical references that require some processing on the part of the reader. As usual, he writes in a very convincing, provocative style that challenges the reader to go outside their theological box (so to speak) and view faith in a whole new way.

Before I get to my opinion, I suppose I should lay out the perspective that I brought to my reading of the book. I was raised in a Christian family, grew up in the church, have a Master of Divinity from Asbury Theological Seminary (which educates a lot of United Methodist pastors, and is known to be moderately conservative in theology), and would consider myself pretty firmly in the "moderate" camp in terms of my theology and ethics. I embrace the Christian faith as outlined in the Apostles and Nicene creeds. I am, however, willing to think "outside the box".

I've liked Rob Bell since I heard him preach at a Youth Specialties convention eight years ago (Nashville, 2002, in case you're curious). I love his Nooma videos and have read Velvet Elvis, one of his other books. One of the things that I love about Bell is that he has an incredible knowledge and understanding of scripture and historical Christianity, yet he tells the "old, old story" in a new and highly creative way.

Here's my synopsis of the book: Bell challenges our stereotypical views of heaven (angels sitting on clouds, strumming harps, singing in the heavenly choir, streets made of gold, reserved for a certain few) and hell (fire and brimstone, gnashing of teeth), especially as viewing them as physical places and reserved totally for the afterlife. As part of that argument, Bell also challenges our view on salvation: who gets in, who doesn't, how we know who goes where, etc. He makes the excellent point that Jesus inaugurated the kingdom of God here on earth, and that instead of salvation just being about what happens AFTER this life, it also includes what happens DURING our time on earth. In other words, our acceptance of God's grace through Jesus Christ needs to result in a changed life on our part...and part of that changed life includes being the hands and feet of Christ to share the love and grace of God and make this world a better place. Bell spends a good chunk of time exploring and establishing the far-reaching and overwhelming love of God, and how that love has the power to win over even the hardest heart. He raises the possibility of people having the chance to respond to God's grace not only up to the moment of death, but even after death occurs...because the sort of love he's talking about does not end at death. Up until this point, I was agreeing with Bell, even being willing to see how that last point might be possible. A stretch, but possible.

There are some beautiful quotes in this book about God's love...which of course is the main theme. A few examples:
"Jesus meets and redeems us in all the ways we have it together and in all the ways we don't, in all the times we proudly display for the world our goodness, greatness, and rightness, and in all of the ways we fall flat on our faces (190)."

"Jesus invites us, in this life, in this broken, beautiful world, to experience the life of heaven now. He insisted over and over that God's peace, joy, and love are currently available to us, exactly as we are (62)."

However, in the last few pages of the book Bell sort of lost me. It was sort of like we were on a nice walk together when all of a sudden we came to a cliff, and he jumped...and I just couldn't do it. The end of the book does give implicit hints of universalism...that God's love may be revealed through Jesus Christ, but that people experience that love in different ways...including through different religions. Here's a quote:
"Is there a force, an energy, a being calling out to us, in many languages, using a variety of methods and events, trying to get our attention (141)?"

OK, that's reasonable...but here's another quote:
"What he doesn't say is how, or when, or in what manner the mechanism functions that gets people to God through him. He doesn't even state that those coming to the Father through him will even know that they are coming exclusively through him. He simply claims that whatever God is doing in the world to know and redeem and love and restore the world is happening through him (154)."

And...I just have a hard time wrapping my head around that concept. I would certainly never say that someone was in hell. As a hospital chaplain, I spend a lot of time working with grieving families and praying at the bedside of recently deceased patients. My usual prayer for any recently departed soul is that they are experiencing God's love, peace, and presence (I pray the same for the grieving family members). If a family member asks me whether their loved one (who, as far as they know, did not profess the Christian faith), is in hell, I simply tell them that their future is in God's hands, which is true for all of us. And I believe that. God is the one who determines salvation, not humans.

I may, one day, find out that Rob Bell was right, and I (and many others) are wrong. Or maybe the reverse will be true. Who knows. I expect that there will be many people in heaven who I did not expect to see, and a fair amount that I won't see who I did expect to see. In the meantime, I will continue to believe and proclaim the love and grace of God as revealed in Jesus Christ, and live in response to that grace by doing my part to create the kingdom of God here on earth.

So, I think that Love Wins is a good book. It's challenging and complex and made me do some major theological wrestling. I just can't come to the same conclusions that Bell did, but I'm not about to throw the baby out with the bathwater, so to speak. In other words, I'm not writing him off as a heretic (yet) and I'm not going to burn any of his books. I would probably even consider using this book as a small-group study once I become a pastor, with the caveat that I (or some other theologically trained person) lead it, since it's sort of a theological minefield.

Have you read it? What did you think?

Coming Out of the Closet

2011-03-23T15:14:00.000-04:00

With apologies to any of my GLBT friends...I'm coming out of the personality closet and claiming my true identity...

Hi, I'm Patti, I'm 34 years old, and I'm an extravert.

I've always claimed to be an introvert for two reasons: first, I'm fairly shy and quiet in new situations, second, I've always shown up as an introvert on personality profiles. Therefore, I accepted that I was an introvert, and functioned accordingly.

However, I've been doing some self-examining recently, and I realized a few things (Side note: keep in mind that the definition of an introvert is someone who gains energy from being alone, while an extravert gains energy from being with others). First, I love being with people, meeting new people, and conversing with people. I may be kind of shy and quiet at first, but that has more to do with self-confidence (and a lack thereof) than desire. Second, I've found that I become excited and energized after interacting with people. I am happiest when I have a chance to interact with people (besides my family) on a regular basis. I was lonely while serving St. John's because I felt so isolated and had to seek out other people. I love hospital ministry or the thought of doing ministry in a larger congregation because there are people around me with whom I can interact.

So, I did an experiment that lasted a few weeks. First, I paid close attention to how I felt before and after interacting with a lot of people, especially on Sunday mornings. On March 13, I was the liturgist for the 8:15 service, attended Sunday School, and then went to the 11:00 service. On the way home, my emotional energy level was higher than it had been four hours prior. The big test was this weekend, when I had an all-day Church Council retreat on Saturday and another long morning on Sunday (I was again the liturgist for 8:15). A lot of interaction with people, including some heavy discussions. I felt intellectually tired at the end of Saturday's retreat, but my energy level was still high. Ditto for Sunday morning. That sealed the deal for me.

So, I'm an extravert. Or, at the very least, a borderline extravert/introvert. It's pretty amazing to realize something like that when you're in your mid-thirties. But I think it will help to inform my future ministry, and how I function in ministry.

Sermon Responses: What Preachers Like to Hear

2011-03-12T20:42:00.001-05:00

As a preacher, I essentially have two audiences, for lack of a better term. First and foremost, I need to be faithful to God and God's Word. God is the one that I want to please, to whom I want to bring glory and honor. However, I also preach to a congregation (right now my limited preaching experiences are at Oak Grove), and they need to be part of the equation, also. The main purpose of my preaching is to move individuals and a congregation into a deeper relationship with God and move them to action as a result of that deeper relationship with God.

You know what comment I HATE to hear after I preach? "I really enjoyed your sermon." I understand what the person is trying to communicate, but I don't spend hours praying over scripture and preparing a sermon so they can ENJOY it. A good runner-up is "nice sermon". I don't want my sermon to be NICE, I want it to be effective. I imagine most preachers feel the same way (fellow preachers, feel free to comment).

So, here are some alternative comments to give to your pastor as you shake his/her hand on Sunday morning:

"That sermon gave me a lot to think about/pray about."
"I felt God speaking to me through your sermon."
"Your point/story/quote about ___________ really struck a chord with me."
"My toes feel kinda sore" (meaning the sermon hit a sore spot with you)
"My heart feels strangely warmed" (it's a Methodist thing...you felt God's love in a powerful way)
"I guess I should have worn body armor this morning, huh?" (something I said to my pastor a month or so ago
"Your sermon made me cry" (I've said that to my pastor, too)

And if you REALLY want to make your pastor's day, call or e-mail him/her later in the week and share some details about how the sermon impacted you. Or ask to meet with him/her so they can help you process what you think God is telling you. I'm telling you, we preachers eat that stuff up!

What a preacher most wants to hear is that the Holy Spirit worked through their sermon to touch your life somehow. That's really what makes a sermon effective...not simply excellent Biblical interpretation (although that's part of it), great delivery, or fantastic illustrations. Those can make a "nice sermon", but as a preacher, I want to know that God is using my sermons to touch peoples' lives and draw them into a deeper relationship with Him.

What if the sermon really didn't do much for you? Then I suggest not saying anything about the sermon as you shake your pastor's hand. Instead, wish them a great week or make some other comment. That week, you can give them a call and offer more specific feedback. Constructive criticism can be helpful, to us, as long as it's done in the right spirit:

"I wish you would have spent more time exploring ______________"
"Your sermon seemed a bit disorganized" (and then give examples)
"That sermon wasn't up to your usual standard. Is everything OK?"

So, people of the congregation, next Sunday, don't tell your pastor "nice sermon." Give them a little bit more than that, OK?

Sermon for Ash Wednesday

2011-03-10T18:27:00.001-05:00

Would you like to read the sermon I preached yesterday at Oak Grove's Ash Wednesday service? My pastor was kind enough to let me preach. He was at the service, but still let me preach. Now that he's heard me preach, we'll see if he'll let me ever preach again. (: The sermon is after the jump.

Rev. Patti Money

Ash Wednesday

Oak Grove UMC

March 9, 2011

Joel 2:1-2, 12-17

“A Matter of Heart”

There is a man named Blaise Pascal who lived over 400 years ago. He was a Frenchman and an absolutely brilliant mathematician whose ideas are respected and studied today. Pascal was also a faithful Christian. Like many of us, he grew up in a Christian home, and like many of us who grew up in the church, in Christian homes, his faith was mostly intellectual. Pascal believed in God and probably even went to church on a regular basis, but there was very little connection between his faith and his day-to-day life. Many of us can identify with that: we come to church each week, we sing the songs, we pray the prayers, we hear the sermons, we go to Sunday School, we go to meetings…but most of what we hear and experience remains in our heads, and doesn’t make our way to our hearts. We are not changed, our lives are not changed.

That was certainly true for Blaise Pascal, until 1654, when, at the age of 31, Pascal was thrown from his horse and into the roadway. He took that experience as a warning from God to change his life and his priorities, and later that night he experienced God’s love and grace in a powerful way. From that moment, Pascal fell in love with God and his relationship with God took precedence over everything else, including his passion for mathematics. His heart was changed, and therefore his life was changed. He began giving sacrificially to help the poor and he published several writings about the Christian faith. Many of us know Pascal for a certain quote that is attributed to him: “There is a God-shaped vacuum in the heart of every man which cannot be filled by any created thing, but only by God, the Creator, made known through Jesus.” In other words, we all have a God-shaped hole in our hearts, and spend our lives seeking ways to fill that hole, but the only way to fill that hole is by letting God into our hearts and letting God change our hearts and our lives.

As I reflected on the story of Blaise Pascal, I was reminded of today’s Old Testament lesson. It’s from the book of Joel, towards the end of the Old Testament. Joel was a prophet, which means that he shared God’s messages, God’s truth, with the people of Israel. In this particular passage, Joel is warning the Israelites that the day of the Lord, the day of God’s judgment is coming, and it is not a day to look forward to: darkness, gloom, a powerful army marching on God’s people. Blow the trumpet and sound the alarm, because Doomsday is just around the corner. It’s the sort of announcement that shakes us to our core, and causes us to wonder, “is there anything we can do to prepare ourselves?”

Joel answers that question with a resounding yes. The answer is to repent, to return to God with all our hearts, with the traditional signs of repentance: fasting (refraining from certain activities), weeping (deep emotion), and mourning (deep sadness over loss). We repent when we make a spiritual U-turn: when we turn around and head towards God instead of away from God. It’s what we’re doing when we confess our sins to God. But it goes deeper than external activities, because we are to return to God with all our hearts, by “rending our hearts but not our garments”; in Biblical times, it was traditional to show repentance or mourning by tearing a hole in your garment, right in the area of the heart; sort of like this (Patti rips hole in shirt). Rending our hearts is a totally different ballgame: instead of ripping a hole in fabric, we are ripping a hole in our heart, a muscle, a vital organ, possibly the most vital organ in our body. Ripping a hole in clothing is a symbolic gesture: ripping a hole in our heart is the real deal; it’s a total life change. We are opening our hearts to God, and inviting God to come and change our hearts, and our lives. That tends to make us a little bit uncomfortable, because a heart opened up to God is a heart that is willing to love who God loves and follow where God leads, even though we will move outside of our comfort zone, even though we will experience pain, even though we will experience great and scary change in our lives. Bob Pierce, the founder of World Vision, once said, “let my heart be broken by the things that break God’s heart.” A changed heart sees people through God’s eyes and sees the world through God’s eyes, and sometimes what God sees in this world is heart-breaking. When our hearts are changed by God, when our hearts are broken by what breaks God’s heart, our lives are transformed so that we, as individuals and as a community, look and act more like Jesus every day, so that we can be God’s agents of change in the world.

Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of our Lenten journey. At the beginning of this service, we all wrote a commitment down on a slip of paper. Maybe it was to give something up for the next forty days, maybe it was to take something on for the next forty days, maybe it was for both. In a few minutes, the ashes from those commitments will be placed on our foreheads, in the shape of a cross. We will hear the words, “from dust you are made, and to dust you shall return.” Those words and this day remind us of our place in this world. They remind us that God is God, and we are not God, that we are mortal. That someday, the things of this world will pass away, and all that will be left will be our relationship with God, as individuals and as a community, and the fruits of that relationship. As we already know, it is so easy to simply go through the motions of our spiritual life, even to go through the motions of Lent. It is easy to fill that God-shaped hole in our hearts with distractions of this world: possessions, activities, friends, family, and even ministry. Yes, even ministry can distract us from our relationship with God. This Lent, as we journey towards the cross and journey towards Easter, let’s make it our goal as individuals and as a community to engage in self-reflection, to examine what might be keeping us from a deeper relationship with God, what we might be using to fill that hole in our heart that only God can fill. Let’s make room in our hearts for God to come in and change our hearts and change our lives so we can change our world with God’s love. Safiya Fosua, who is part of the General Board of Discipleship of the United Methodist Church, describes today this way: The gift of the day is personal reflection, a season of confession, and change. Start the arduous journey from shadow to substance, from ritual to reality, from façade to faith. Today, choose the harder course. It is easier to buy new clothing than to mend a soul.

It is easier to buy new clothing than to mend a soul. Today we begin a journey, lasting forty days, that gives us the opportunity to walk with Jesus to the foot of the cross and be transformed forever by His love and grace. It’s a long journey, a painful journey, but a journey that we do not go on alone. We are surrounded not only by God’s love and grace and promise to never leave us or forsake us, but also by each other. We are on this journey with others who are rending their hearts, who are creating space for God, who are allowing God to change their hearts and lives.

We will leave this place with our foreheads marked with a sign of repentance. Let us also leave here having opened our hearts to God, and invited God in to enlarge our hearts, to change our hearts, and to change us, so that this Lent, we can be transformed as individuals and as a church community, so others will see God in our midst and be changed as well.

Random Ramblings, "Oops" Edition

2011-02-06T19:13:00.001-05:00

So as it turns out? Susanna didn't have Fifth Disease. She had strep throat, and the rash was a result of that. I found this out when I took her to the doctor on Thursday, which was the day after she had attended preschool and I had swore up and down to both the preschool director and her teacher that it was "just Fifth Disease" and she wasn't contagious AT ALL.

Yeah. Preschool Parent of the Year award, right there.

Thankfully, Susanna is feeling much better. The rash is pretty much gone, and she's like herself again. And even better, Greg didn't get it. Yay!

We're watching the Super Bowl tonight, complete with nachos and pizza. We're rooting for the Packers simply because we don't really like the Steelers and I lived in Wisconsin for a whole ten months when I was an infant. Clearly, we are true blue fans.

I got to help my pastor at a healing service on Wednesday. That was very cool. And I'm now on the rotation to preach at our Wednesday night service. My first time is Ash Wednesday, which is March 9. I'm excited, because after preaching in January, I got re-bitten by the preaching bug.

Greg's first birthday is on Wednesday. Wow. We're having his party on February 12. It's just going to be a casual affair with lunch, cake, and presents.

Susanna totally cracks me up. Earlier, she was pretending that a balloon (which a ribbon attached) was her "tail" and she was a "doggie like Simon." She then made me pretend that I had a tail and was a dog.

I hope your week goes well!

How Can I Keep From Singing?

2011-02-01T21:31:00.000-05:00

Random note: ten years ago today was my first day of seminary. James and I were engaged, but not yet married. Obviously, we had no children. So much has happened since then, and my life is very different than I thought it would be. However, I am thankful that I a) finished my MDiv, b) am still married to James, c) have my two beautiful children, and am d) active in ministry and anticipating a return to being a local church pastor. God is good. All the time. And all the time...God is good.

A couple of weeks ago, I slipped into church a few minutes late. James was sick and decided to stay home with Greg, and I had had a busy night (three deaths and a code blue). I had actually not gotten home until 9:45am (worship is at 11am), but managed to get myself showered and dressed, get Susanna dressed, and get to church by 11:10. Pretty impressive, huh?

I grabbed a seat in the back and wound up sitting next to our worship/music/technology person (her official title, I believe, is Director of Worship Arts and Technology). I sang with my usual gusto (I really like to sing). At the end of the service, she leaned over and said something along the lines of, "you should be on our praise team." My response? A slightly pained look at her, and "I'd rather preach at Annual Conference than sing in front of people." She then reminded me that I wouldn't be up there alone (of course), said that my pitch was good, that I knew the words, and that I was welcome to come to practice, just think about it, yadda yadda. A soft sell (she didn't get down on her knees or anything), but I sensed a sincere invitation. And while I don't know her well at all, I get the sense that she's not the sort to give out empty compliments.

I've been puzzling over that encounter. This is not the first time that someone in the congregation has commented that I have a "really pretty voice"; I've actually heard that sort of remark about five or six times, which is an absolute record for me. And with the exception of B, my former choir director, I don't think I've ever had a choir director comment on my singing AND invite me to join the choir/praise team. I've actually received more affirmation for my (congregational) singing at Oak Grove than anyplace else.

I've always loved singing. My mom tells people that she always knew I'd wind up behind a microphone; she just never thought it would be from a pulpit. I was in choirs in high school, college, church, and even my first semester of seminary. In college, I took voice lessons for three years, piano lessons for three semesters, and even planned on minoring in music until I hit the first semester of music theory (and a professor who really didn't belong in the classroom. Fantastic choir director, lousy professor). In other words, I'm trained. I'm passionate. And thanks to my voice lessons and Ms. G (my voice teacher), I would say that I'm a fairly decent singer.

But, I've never made it into an audition-only choir. I wanted more than anything to get into my college's Concert Choir, and I never did (I auditioned three times in a row). I re-auditioned for the Singing Seminarians at Asbury, and didn't make it. I have this tendency to "choke" and get so nervous during auditions that I wind up missing notes, sounding flat, etc.

So, I pretty much pushed that hobby/passion to the side and haven't visited it in years. I developed my gifts and skills in preaching and worship leadership. I feel very comfortable preaching, and can talk myself through any nervousness about that. But singing? In a praise team? On a stage? In our fairly large worship space? It sort of freaks me out. I meant what I told our worship person about preaching at Annual Conference versus singing in front of people.

But, what if...? Could all this affirmation be a sign that God wants me to use my gifts in that area? Or should I just stay in the congregation, and keep focusing on my gifts in preaching/worship leadership?

Anyone have any thoughts?

Random Ramblings, Fifth Disease Edition

2011-01-30T20:28:00.000-05:00

Susanna, we are pretty sure, has Fifth Disease. She started seeming feverish and congested on Thursday and woke up after her nap on Friday with this red rash on her cheeks. Kind of like someone slapped her, and that's a trademark sign of Fifth Disease. The rash is still present and she's still very weepy and snotty.
Greg got sick yesterday, with congestion and a fever. He barely slept last night and has been cranky and snotty all day today. I'm hoping that the combination of bath (with VapoBath), steam treatment, and a vaporizer in his room will ensure a slightly more restful night for both of us.
My husband went to Target, drove through Wendy's, and brought back a Frosty for both of us!
My mom had a VERY SIGNIFICANT birthday on Thursday. It was really a victory, since this past year has been so hard and so long for her. And for us...but mostly for her. She's done with chemo, is now in radiation, and should be DONE in a month. We are fully expecting the score will be Mom 1, Cancer 0. Thanks be to God.
I am currently planning Greg's first birthday party. He'll be a year old on February 9. I can't believe that my baby is almost one!

Who I Am, Where I've Been, and Where I'm Going

2011-01-10T04:02:00.001-05:00

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Yesterday was the Sunday we celebrate the Baptism of Our Lord-when John baptized Jesus in the Jordan River. As part of the sermon, my pastor included a video from "The Lion King" on Broadway, using it as an illustration for God being within us, and reminded us who (and Whose) we are through our baptism. It was powerful, although if it had been me I would have used the above clip from the movie. BUT, he didn't ask my opinion and the Broadway clip definitely "worked" and may have been more relevant for other people. After all, there were several hundred others in attendance, and the Broadway show just had a one-month run in Norfolk.

What my pastor does not know is that I have used specific clips from "The Lion King" to illustrate my continued healing from Danville-gate. Go, Holy Spirit.

God is definitely doing a new thing within me. Even as recently as two months ago, I was actively searching for chaplain jobs and using the phrase "if I ever go back to the [local] church" as a pastor, with a big emphasis on the "if." And since my main focus in searching for chaplain jobs was fulfilling service requirements for ordination versus actual vocational fulfillment, I was sort of hazy and unfocused in regards to my future. I'm really not convinced that I'm cut out to be a SAHM for the long-term (more on that another time), but at that point (only two months ago) I had no interest in going back to the local church as a pastor.

Then, God started nudging me each Sunday through my pastor's sermons (that Holy Spirit can be really pesky). Then, in early December, the opportunity to preach last week pretty much fell into my lap. As I prepared the sermon, I began to remember how much I enjoyed it. And on, and on, and on. Finally, I knew what I had to do. I made an appointment with my District Superintendent (who oversees all the clergy on the Norfolk District) to discern/discuss the possibility of me becoming a pastor again. Together, we agreed that I'm not quite ready this year (Greg is still very young and I also think I may have presented myself as more fragile than I am), but that by next year (July 2012), I should definitely be ready to once again be Pastor Patti.

My plan over the next year is to remain on family leave, do whatever I can to finish healing, to gain more experience, to increase my confidence, and to basically do whatever necessary to begin my next appointment 100% ready to be Pastor Patti. I'm fairly certain that our current church is a good place in which to do that, and of course I have other resources available to me, as well.

The above video pretty much illustrates what I've been experiencing over the past six weeks and where I am right now.

And someday, hopefully 18 months or so from now (NOTE: the United Methodist system works on annual appointments from July 1 to June 30, so unless something literally falls into my lap, it will be 18 months. I've already mailed in my forms for family leave), I will once again be a pastor and once again be shepherding the people of God. Or, to keep using "The Lion King", I will be climbing Pride Rock and roaring:

Happy Epiphany!

2011-01-06T00:01:00.001-05:00

This is a video of one of my favorite Christmas songs ever, and one that's fairly obscure. My college choir sung this back in the fall of 1997, and I fell in love with it. Enjoy!

But I Had Such a Fun Time! I Really Did!

2011-01-03T20:32:00.001-05:00

This successful experience was brought to you by the grace of God, a stubborn will, and five units of Clinical Pastoral Education.

I have preached in many contexts, not all of them pleasant. I have preached while pregnant, with painful Braxton-Hicks contractions rippling through my body. I have preached while in the throes of bronchitis (also pregnant, I should add). I have preached while a congregation glared poisonous daggers at me during the whole service (that was my next-to-last Sunday at St. John's). I have literally preached to the choir, when they were the only ones who showed up for a Maundy Thursday service.

However, I had never preached while suffering from the stomach flu. Until yesterday, that is**.

I woke up yesterday feeling kind of queasy and with some symptoms of mild stomach upset. I assumed they were due to nerves, because I had been putting myself under an unreasonable amount of stress about this sermon, service, etc. I ate some breakfast, got dressed, and headed to church.

The first service went well, but I was still feeling kind of queasy, so I ate a bagel and drank some water. It's a good thing I didn't eat the Hostess cupcake I received from a very nice gentleman who attended the 8:15 service (I still haven't eaten it, but I WILL, because I LOVE those things). I still felt queasy.

I went into the worship space for the 11:00 service to pray, re-read my sermon, and prepare for worship. Around 10:15, I began to have THAT FEELING. You know, when the queasiness turns into the I'M GONNA PUKE feeling. So, I walked very quickly to the ladies' room (which was mercifully empty), locked myself in a stall, and promptly expelled the contents of my stomach into the toilet.

I felt somewhat better, but found myself in a new predicament: was I sick, or was this just nerves? And if I was sick, then what should I do? My instinct was that I was coming down with the stomach flu, because I had NEVER EVER thrown up as a result of nerves. I also knew that James was not feeling great (and was, in fact, staying at home because he wasn't feeling well), so it was possible that I had caught whatever he had.

I did two things: first, I asked God to please hold off any further symptoms until the service was over and I was home. Next, I posted something on my Face*book status, asking others to pray for the same. Then I continued preparing for worship. After all, it was 10:30 by this point. I figured that as long as I could get up and down from the stage and stand to deliver my sermon, there was no reason for me not to finish what I had started. I had brought some mouthwash and used that, and sanitized my hands very very well.

And it worked. I compartmentalized the queasiness (hardly even felt it, really), did a reasonable job with the service, and headed home. Within an hour of returning home, I was shivering with a fever and unable to keep down even Pedialyte. That continued for the rest of the afternoon and evening. James (who was also miserable, as was Susanna) went out and bought some Gatorade and ginger ale. The Gatorade stayed down, and I began feeling better.

We're all better today and even eating solid food again. And I really really enjoyed preaching yesterday...I had forgotten just how much I missed it.

**Really, I wasn't THAT sick during the morning hours. It didn't get bad until I got home. But "I preached with the stomach flu" sounds good, doesn't it?

I Brought The Word, and a Side of Stomach Flu

2011-01-02T17:31:00.000-05:00

Both services went as well as I could have expected them to go. Thank you for your prayers.

I came down with the stomach flu this morning, fought off the worst of it, and succumbed within an hour of getting home.

Feel Like Reading a Sermon?

2011-01-01T16:42:00.001-05:00

My sermon for this Sunday is after the jump. Read at your own risk. Due to unforseen circumstances, I am now preaching at both the 8:15 AND the 11:00 services. Please pray for me tomorrow. I'm well-prepared, I've done this before, and I know the Holy Spirit has my back (and my front, and all of me), but there's a certain nervousness that comes from a) not having done this is 18 months and b) not having preached in this setting. I have a feeling that a number of people at the 11:00 service are going to be thinking, "huh? Her? I thought she was just some boring housewife. Wait...she's a PREACHER?"

So, please pray, especially that I will be able to focus first and foremost on pleasing and glorifying God, and not anyone else.

Rev. Patti Money

Oak Grove UMC

Epiphany Sunday

January 2, 2011

“What Gift Can We Bring?”

Three years ago, I was the pastor of a small, United Methodist congregation in Danville, Virginia. One of my members was a man named Homer. Homer was a “salt of the earth” kind of guy; the sort of person who would knock on the parsonage door and hand me a bag full of vegetables from his garden, the sort of person who had more spirituality in his pinky finger than I had in my whole body, the sort of person who everyone admired and loved. That January, Homer had a heart attack. First he went to the local hospital, but after tests and consultations with physicians, he was transferred to Duke Medical Center, about 70 miles away. After more consultations with physicians, he and his family agreed that bypass surgery was his best chance for survival. The surgery was scheduled for the next morning, and his family called me that afternoon to let me know. I began making preparations to go down to Duke to be with Homer and to be with his family. I let Susanna’s day care provider know that I would be dropping her off as soon as the center opened at 6am, and made a “Plan B” in case I couldn’t be back by closing time at 6pm. I made sure that Susanna had enough bottles, diapers, and spare clothes to choke a horse. I laid out my clothes. I prayed. The next morning, I woke up at 4:30am. It was snowing in Danville and there was already a thin layer of snow on the ground. I got ready, got Susanna ready, dropped her off at daycare, and began my journey. It was snowing for the first 20 or so miles of my drive and raining for the last 50 or so miles. The main road between Danville and Durham is a two-lane country road and not a lot of fun to drive in early-morning January darkness, with bad weather on top of that. But I kept driving, determined to make it to Duke, determined to be there during Homer’s surgery.

What was propelling me down the road was not necessarily pastoral duty, although that was certainly a small aspect of it. After all, it’s part of the role of the pastor to be present in times of crisis, and I would have made that drive for anyone in my congregation. However, the reason I was determined to drive those 70 miles through snow, and rain, and darkness, the reason I was determined to make it down to Duke, was not a sense of duty, but a relationship with the man who, even as I was driving, was being prepped for a major and very risky surgery. Over the 18 months I had been his pastor, I had become very fond of Homer. He had opened his heart and his life to me, had taught me a great deal about life and faith and ministry, and was really a bright spot in what was a difficult time in my life and ministry. Homer had embraced me as his pastor despite my youth, despite my inexperience, and despite the mistakes I made as a result of both that youth and inexperience. He loved me in spite of all my faults and failings. And so I drove down to Duke in the snow, in the rain, in the darkness, found my way to the hospital, to the parking garage, and followed the maze of hallways to the surgical waiting area, where I found his family. Homer had already gone into surgery, and it would be another six hours before I would finally see him, still under anesthesia, his chest covered in bandages, and with tubes here and there and everywhere. But he was alive, and the surgeons had given his family hope that he would have a complete recovery. That news gave me joy, and my joy increased as I was able to relay the good news to the rest of my congregation and my joy made my return trip to Danville that much easier and so much quicker than my earlier trip. That day, a visit that had begun with a sense of duty, had become about a relationship and about a gift. My relationship with Homer was a gift from God, and my response to that gift from God was to drive down to Duke that yucky January morning, to offer my presence and prayers to his family as we waited for news of his surgery, to rejoice with them when the surgeon gave us good news, and to lead his family in a prayer of thanksgiving when we were finally allowed to be at his bedside. In essence, my response to the gift of Homer’s relationship with me was to offer myself, my time, my energy, my presence, and my prayers, to him, to his family, and ultimately, to God.

Christmas Day was just over a week ago, and in the church, we are at the tail end of the Christmas season. Today is what we call Epiphany Sunday, when we celebrate and remember the visit of the wise men to Jesus and his parents, a visit that also involved a journey, a relationship, and gifts. Listen to how the Gospel of Matthew tells the story:

[Patti reads Matthew 2:1-12: NRSV for 8:15, The Message for 11:00]
The wise men were from the East, possibly from what is the modern-day nation of Iran. They had been watching the skies for a while-we don’t know how long-for a star that would signify the birth of a baby who would be known as king of the Jews. As soon as they saw this star appear, they gathered provisions, packed their bags and their camels, acquired their gifts, and set out on their journey, heading west, following the bright star they saw. It was a very long journey, a journey of several hundred miles, a journey most likely done on foot or maybe on camel. It was also likely a journey whose purpose initially was diplomatic: representatives from one kingdom visiting the newly-born ruler of another kingdom. The wise men went first to Jerusalem, because it was the capital city, because this baby was supposed to be a king, and royalty and rulers almost always live in capital cities. And they did encounter a king. They encountered Herod, who was the political leader of the Jewish people, and who directed the wise men to Bethlehem, where prophets had said that Jesus would be born. Herod deviously made them promise to return to him and tell him exactly where Jesus was, so that he “could come and worship” this new Messiah. In reality, Herod was threatened by reports of this new king, and had no intention of worshipping Jesus. Whether the wise men realized Herod’s false pretenses at the time, we do not know. We know that they continued to Bethlehem, that they followed the star until it stopped at their destination.

Finally, after months of travel, after being guided only by a star and ancient writings, the wise men arrived at their destination, at the home of Joseph, and Mary, and Jesus. And their response, according to the writer of Matthew, was threefold. First, they were overcome with joy as soon as they realized that they had finally arrived at their destination. They hadn’t even seen Jesus yet, but they were overcome with joy. The Greek word that’s used in this verse indicates a joy that is God-given, a joy that is transformational, a joy that indicates some sort of deep connection with God. Second, when they entered the home and saw Jesus with Mary, they knelt and worshipped him. The verse doesn’t say that they talked about how cute Jesus was, admired Jesus, or even simply revered him as a king. The verse says that the wise men worshipped him. They saw Jesus for who he was: the Messiah, God in human flesh, the savior of the world. Third and finally, they offered him three gifts: gold, frankincense, and myrrh. These gifts show us that the wise men knew that this child was not just any king, that he was special. We don’t know how long they stayed with Jesus and his parents, only that it was probably at least overnight, because it was in a dream that God warned them not to return to Herod, but to go home a different route. God spoke, the wise men listened, and they returned home by another route. We hear nothing about them for the rest of the New Testament, but one thing is clear from this passage: that the wise men’s visit to Jesus brought forth a transformation within themselves and the clearest evidence of that transformation is found in their worship of Jesus and their obedience of God’s warning. It indicates a relationship and a response as a result of that relationship. They came bearing gifts, and they received an even greater gift in return.

What made me drive 70 miles in cruddy weather to wait and pray with a family? A relationship, the gift I received from that relationship, and my desire to give the gift of myself in return. What made the wise men travel hundreds of miles to come and worship Jesus? A relationship, the desire to offer the tangible gifts they had brought and the intangible gifts of their worship to the one true king.

We’ve talked a lot about Christmas over the past few weeks. Christmas is all about a relationship...what God gives to us, what we give to God in response. Not about duty, but about a relationship. That is the heart of Christmas, the heart of the Gospel...a God who loves us enough to come down and live among us, to be human like us, and to eventually die for us. That is the true and most important gift of Christmas. God gave us the gift of God’s Son at Christmas. What’s our response? What gift can we give in return for all that God has done for us?

[Play video: “At Christmas”]

http://www.sermonspice.com/product/29174/at-christmas

Patti prays once video concludes, then transitions into song.

Merry Christmas from the Moneys!

2010-12-13T20:34:00.000-05:00

Every year, we receive several Christmas cards from family and friends. Many of them include newsletters and family photos. Each year, I intend to send one out, but I never get around to it. Thanks to the wonders of the Internet, you can have a Christmas card, albeit a virtual one.

We're all doing well. Our biggest news of the year is the birth of Gregory James, our second child (click on the link for more info). We call him Greg. He is an absolute delight, especially now that he's sleeping through the night. He looks exactly like James, and his resemblance to Susanna at the same age is uncanny.

Susanna at three is delightful, intelligent, energetic, and talks so much that we have difficulty getting a word in edgewise. She started preschool this fall, really enjoys it, and is doing well. Depending on the day, she either considers Simon (our black Lab) or Greg her best friend. Susanna has adjusted very well to being a big sister, and really loves her little brother. As you can see from the picture, she's not a huge fan of Santa, but that's OK.

James is still working at Booz Allen Hamilton, loves it, and they love him (great news in this economy!). I'm on "family leave", which means most days I'm at home with both of the kids. For the record, most of the time I love it. I'm also moonlighting as a hospital chaplain for a local hospital system, which provides not only a paycheck but also a vocational outlet. Only God knows what the future will hold for me in that arena (full time chaplaincy, returning to the local church, extending my family leave), but for now I feel blessed to be where I am and do what I'm doing.

May your Christmas be merry, your New Year be happy, and may God shower you with blessings!

Love,
James, Patti, Susanna, Greg, & Simon Money.

Well, This Should Be Fun!

2010-12-12T08:00:00.007-05:00

Remember this post from last week? Well, the very next day, my pastor sent an e-mail to several of us who have pastoral experience and/or seminary education, asking about our level of interest in worship leadership AND seeing if any of us would be interested in preaching for him on January 2 while he's away (Imagine that! A pastor taking off after Christmas! like he's expecting to be TIRED or something). I replied on Tuesday afternoon, saying that I would be happy to preach at either service (we have a traditional service and a contemporary service) and would love to help out with worship leadership. (Of course, being ME, I said that in about ten sentences instead of two, and included a Brief History of My Vocational Life.)

So, I sent that e-mail and ~~gnawed my fingernails~~ ~~checked my e-mail every five minutes~~ patiently waited for his response (I really was patient. Having been a pastor, and still having many friends in the "business", I know that pastors cannot spend their whole day answering e-mails and phone calls). Yesterday, we went to a fun-filled family thing at church (it really was great. Free pancake breakfast and photos with Santa, a "angel gift shop", and a cookie walk/sale thingy) and within five minutes of us entering the pancake breakfast, he came over and confirmed that I would be preaching at the 11am service (that's the contemporary one, which we usually attend).

So, there you have it. I have my first preaching gig in over a year. I was ~~freaking out~~ ~~hyperventilating~~ for a few minutes, but I'm actually feeling good now. I'm pretty excited. It helps that I was reminded of a few things: first, that experience has shown me that as long as I am faithful to the "process of preparation" as one fellow blogger described it, I (with the help of God, of course) will produce good work and my nerves will be considerably reduced. Second, that no matter how large the congregation may be (average attendance around 250; I'm used to 40-50), I only have an Audience of One, and that would be the One who created me, loves, me, and called me to do this in the first place. God is the only one in the room whose socks I want to knock off, so to speak. Third, I am someone for whom learning and growth both come through experience. In order to gain that experience (and therefore learn and grow), I need to take some risks. This will also be a good initial test for me to see if preaching is indeed something I'm called to do/find fulfillment in, and whether I should go back to the local church.

So, pray for me, will you? Particularly that I am faithful to the One who called me to ministry and whose Word I will be bringing, but also that my preaching will not cause my pastor to regret asking me to preach in the first place.

Food for Thought

2010-12-08T17:18:00.000-05:00

I had another topic I was planning on writing about today, but then I clicked over to Joelle's blog and read her most recent post, which had me cocking my head and going, "huh" in a very good way. In other words, it provided me with a perspective I hadn't considered. That, by the way, is one of the reasons that I read Joelle's blog; she has this way of showing things from a different (but legitimate) perspective.

In this case, she's linked to this article from another blogger. I highly encourage you to read it, for the reason I mentioned above (different perspective). This blogger offers an alternative to the highly-popular Advent Conspiracy. One suggestion she offers: if you have money to spend, go ahead and spend it, but spend it wisely (keep your dollars local, focus on what will bring the most joy to others, not on giving gifts just for the sake of it).

Anyway, go ahead and read the article. I think it makes several excellent points.

Into Every Blog a Few Typos Must Fall

2010-12-07T19:19:00.000-05:00

I took a look at the title of yesterday's blog post and realized that instead of "Danskos" I had put "Dankos"...without the "s". Brilliant, Patti. I will confess to being a complete and utter grammar/spelling snob. It drives me up the wall when people (particularly well-educated people) consistently make major grammatical and spelling mistakes. A few of my pet peeves are:

-Saying "you're" instead of "your" when using the possessive. Ditto for using "your" instead of "you're" when you mean to say "you are".
-Referring to the large table in a church that traditionally holds Communion elements, flowers, and Bible as "alter" instead of "altar" (the correct spelling).
-Using apostrophes when indicating plural nouns.

I could go on, but you get the point. I do pride myself on having very good grammar and spelling. However, I have noticed some grammatical errors in my blog posts AFTER I had published them. One major error was even pointed out by my MOTHER. It's pretty embarrassing to pride yourself on great grammar and then find errors/typos that wouldn't exist if you'd just been a little more careful (or if Blogger would add a "grammar check" feature).

So, if you find a grammatical mistake in a blog post, you have two options. First, you can e-mail me and point it out so I can fix it ASAP. Or, you can ignore it and figure that grammatical mistakes happen to all of us. It's your choice. I suppose there's also the option of noticing an error/typo and simply judging me, but if you're the type of person to do that, I'd just as soon you pointed the mistake out to me, so I can fix it.

No one's perfect, right?

If It Weren't For My Dansksos, My Feet Would be Bleeding

2010-12-06T22:25:00.001-05:00

I probably walked about 15,000 steps today. I visited 29 patients and their families over a ten-hour period. That may not sound like a lot to you, but given that I am supposed to have MEANINGFUL CONVERSATION with each of these patients, it is a lot. Trust me.

I clocked in at 10:30am and clocked out at 9:25 pm, so I guess I technically worked for eleven hours. Whatever. My feet hurt. My mind is numb. I'm going to bed. I'll iron James' clothes in the morning.

I do feel very satisfied and fulfilled, though. But mostly exhausted. And cold. Do you know it's really cold outside?

Night-night.

Random Ramblings, Cookie Monster Edition

2010-12-05T21:15:00.000-05:00

James is making chocolate chip cookies. Our new oven does a really, really nice job with cookies. Apparently his co-workers have requested chocolate chip cookies, and James is obliging.

I'll bring some into work tomorrow, too. I'm working at DePaul tomorrow, and am fairly excited about it. Getting myself (professionally dressed and groomed) and two kids out of the house, to day care, and to work on time is really not fun. However, I really enjoy working the occasional shift because a) I get to do something I really really love and b) I get to talk to adults. It's a nice break from being "Mommy" 24/7. And as a nice bonus, I make money!

I'm sort of in this "vocational limbo" where I'm deciding what to do for the next few years and for the long haul. Because I'm a provisional elder, I have eight years from the time I was commissioned to "fulfill the requirements for ordination and full membership." The requirements include: three years of full-time service (I currently have one year) and approval by the Conference Board of Ordained Ministry (which involves papers, psychological testing, and interviews). Since it's common to be "continued" at least one time, I really should add in a year or two of insurance. Therefore, by July 2013 I need to be beginning my third year of full-time service in order to really have a good shot at being ordained by 2015. If I'm not ordained by 2015, my understanding is that I have to re-apply for provisional membership and begin the process all. over. again. Therefore, I'm weighing my options and figuring out how I can accomplish that...and if accomplishing that right now is what God wants me to do (and part of that includes what's in the best interest of my family). It's somewhat frustrating and painful, because part of me feels like if Danville-gate hadn't happened, I wouldn't be in this situation. But it did happen, and I am here, so...

Greg is so so so much better. I'm only giving him two breathing treatments a day now, and I'm hoping to only give him one tomorrow, one on Tuesday, and then be DONE.

I must go now, because I need to clean up the cookie mess and then go to bed. Toodles!

On Ecumenism: Just Call Me Christian

2010-12-04T22:08:00.001-05:00

There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to one hope when you were called; one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all.
Ephesians 4:5-6

When someone asks me, "what are you?" in regard to my faith, I usually respond, "United Methodist," because that seems like the clearest, most straightforward answer. It's certainly true: I've been a member of the United Methodist Church for 20+ years, attended (and have a degree in religion from) a United Methodist college, my seminary student body was two-thirds United Methodist, and I am, of course, on the track for ordination in the United Methodist Church. It's where I feel most at home theologically.

However, saying that I'm United Methodist doesn't tell my whole faith story any more than saying I grew up in Northern Virginia tells my whole life story (see the "about me" section for more info on that subject). My mom was raised in a faithful Catholic home, and while she left the Church when she married my dad (a divorced non-Catholic), she certainly did not leave God or the church. For the first 12 or so years of my life, my family attended non-denominational, charismatic churches. James and I were married in an Episcopal church (I had been working there for almost two years) by a Baptist campus minister, with a United Methodist pastor celebrating the Eucharist. I've experienced some of the most awesome worship of my life at a Catholic church in Georgetown (my friend Joe took me*, and I returned on my own several times. It was awesome to the point where I gave brief thought to converting, but there are four or five theological/polity issues that need to be resolved before I would seriously consider it**) and at Taize. I am currently praying the Christmas Novena for an intention very close to my heart. I have found the grace, love, and peace of God in Jesus Christ, revealed through the Holy Spirit, in every Christian tradition of which I've been a part in some way, shape, or form. In other words, I'm sort of a "religious mutt in the Christian tradition." I am highly ecumenical, and feel like I am blessed because of it.

Therefore, I always get a little confused/exasperated/incensed (pick your word, depending on the situation) whenever I run across individuals or groups who, instead of embracing other Christians as sisters/brothers in Christ, question the authenticity or strength of the faith of others or even their salvation because of differing beliefs. I once had a friend (who is one of the most faithful Christians I know, and a cradle Lutheran) tell me that someone from a large, well-known Campus Ministry Organization spent ten minutes challenging his friend's salvation once they found out he was Lutheran. I have another friend who was raised (and still is) Catholic who, while in college, spent a significant amount of time with the Baptist student ministry (while still attending Mass at the Catholic campus ministry and remaining connected with that community). While on a mission trip with his baptist friends, he mentioned to some church person that he grew up Catholic. Their response, "Well, at least you're Christian now." Apparently they thought that the two were mutually exclusive. I guess it's good that he didn't tell them that he was still Catholic, huh?

I really have two main criteria for deciding if someone is a fellow Christian. Technically, it's really just one criterion with added clarification:
If you declare with your mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you profess your faith and are saved. Romans 10:9-10

My added clarification (if I'm gonna be really strict) is that if you can agree with the contents of the Nicene Creed (click on the link if you're not familiar with it), or at least the Apostles' Creed, then I know we have enough in common, belief-wise, that I will consider you a brother or sister in Christ, regardless of whether you are Catholic, Episcopalian, Anglican, Lutheran, Methodist, non-denominational, Baptist, etc, etc. Of course, it goes without saying that salvation is completely within God's realm: it is not up to me to decree if someone is "saved" or not. I do believe that when we all get to heaven, there will certainly be many people present who we Did Not expect, and probably even more people absent who we DID expect. However, I do believe in drawing the line SOMEWHERE, and that explains what I wrote above, because it's the criteria the Christian Church has been using for the past 1500+ years.

I guess my bottom line is, if we're all essentially on the same team (Go team Jesus!), then why do we WASTE so much time and energy fighting over doctrine, polity, and practice, when we could really and truly UNITE and totally rock this world with the love of Christ?

*Joe and I have been friends for 11 years now. We first met through ICQ (anyone remember that?), because he was apparently looking for a new friend (Joe is always meeting new friends; he could be in a room of terrorists and within an hour or two will have become friends with half of them and be engaged in a discussion on Mid-Eastern cuisine and which restaurant in Riyadh has the best hummus. I say all that with a great deal of affection), and I had somehow put my settings on "open to random chat." We met in person several days later, and he subsequently introduced me to the best frozen custard in the world and did wonders for my understanding and appreciation of Catholics and the Catholic Church. He got married about six years ago to a lovely woman who I think is absolutely perfect for him (although I've only seen her three times) and they have a lovely little girl who is about a month younger than Greg.

**The biggest two are: the priesthood (I do firmly believe in the priesthood of all believers, although I believe that clergy should have a priestly function during the sacraments) and the infallibility of the Pope (because I just have issues with any human being infallible). There are other issues, but those are the two that are major stumbling blocks and are keeping me Protestant.

Anyway, those are my thoughts on ecumenism. I'd love to hear your thoughts/responses, and especially your experiences with other Christian traditions.

Not to be vain, but my parents say she looks just like me when I was her age

2010-12-03T10:47:00.001-05:00

Susanna's school picture. Isn't she beautiful?

More Advent Ideas

2010-12-02T15:20:00.004-05:00

Check out this link for some great ideas for celebrating Advent with kids:
http://www.conversiondiary.com/2010/11/baby-steps-for-celebrating-advent-a-cornucopia-of-ideas.html

Let's Get In the Mood...

2010-12-02T00:01:00.003-05:00

This is one of my favorite Advent hymns, apparently arranged by one of my favorite singers, Chris Tomlin. If you've never heard of him, YOU ARE DEPRIVED INDEED. This is from a Christmas album, obviously. His original stuff is amazing. The lead voice is, I believe, Christy Nockels, from the (now retired) band Watermark.

Celebrating Advent/Christmas with Young Children

2010-12-01T11:43:00.001-05:00

You'd think that having a seminary education and being a member of the clergy, my home would be a model of Christian discipleship and my children would be able to recite creeds and Bible verses backwards and forwards before they entered preschool. I hate to burst your bubble, but that's just not the case. James and I certainly believe that it is essential for us to share our faith with our children, both through modeling and teaching. However, like so many of us, sometimes the best intentions are left by the wayside in the flurry of life. That's not to say that our life together is absent of spirituality. We pray together at every meal, we are actively involved in a local church, we encourage Susanna to "talk to God" anytime she feels like it (especially if she's scared or lonely), and I read Susanna a Bible story every night and a little prayer book. Her preschool is affiliated with our church, and I know she's getting spiritual nurture there, too. Greg is still young, but we will add in these things with him as he gets older.

I still feel like I certainly could be more intentional about the spiritual formation of our children. (I'm using "I" because I'm the one who spends the most time with them, not because I'm totally leaving James out of the equation. He's often the one who gets my butt in gear and reminds me of the importance of these things.) So, I thought that Advent would be a great time to begin putting my money where my mouth is. I owe this inspiration largely to Emily, who is also trying to think of ways to make this season more meaningful for young children.

So, here are some of my (very tentative) plans, and what we're already done. There is secular stuff mixed in with the sacred, but I don't see any harm in that, as long as we place the focus on the real meaning of the season (HINT: It's the birth of Jesus, the Messiah, the son of God, God in human flesh, the Light of the World, etc):

This week we're decorating the inside and outside of the house for Christmas, including putting up the tree. Susanna mostly followed us around while we did this, but we talked to her about what we were doing, about Christmas and preparing for Jesus' birth, and how some of our ornaments have special significance (like the one we bought for our first Christmas as a married couple, the one for Susanna's first Christmas, some of the ornaments I made as a little girl, etc).
We watched the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. Laugh if you want, but I consider it a sacred tradition.
In two weeks, our church is having a special Christmas activity for children, featuring breakfast, pictures with Santa, an opportunity to shop for (previously wrapped) presents, etc.
On the 17th, Susanna's preschool is having a "Birthday party for Jesus", including a Christmas program. OH THE CUTENESS.
We live an hour from Busch Gardens Williamsburg, and when we renewed our season passes, received three free tickets to Christmas Town, their holiday celebration. We're planning on going to that.
Years and years ago, my mom made this beautiful Advent calendar. She gave it to me after we got married. I'm going to find it (we hung it up a few years ago, but haven't for the past two years) and hang it up somewhere in our house. There are 25 little flannel "ornaments" that are attached via velcro, with #25 being baby Jesus. The main part of the calendar is a Christmas tree. The idea is, that each day of December you add one more figure to the Christmas tree, with baby Jesus being the final figured added. I figure it might be a neat activity to do with Susanna (and Greg, but he'll be mostly watching) each night.
Somewhere I have an Advent wreath, or maybe I'll just go and buy one (I haven't been to Cokesbury in a while! They must miss me!). Each night at dinner, we can light the appropriate candle for that week and maybe read a Bible verse.
I'll read Susanna and Greg The Night Before Christmas on Christmas Eve. I'll also see what other Christmas books the preschool library has.
Watching Christmas movies a few times a week, such as "The Muppet Christmas Carol".
I can download some Christmas music from iTunes and see what Christmas CDs we have and simply listen to them together.
Our church has an "Angel Tree" program and I thought that maybe we could do that as a sort of service project.

I'm keeping my expectations low, both for myself and for Susanna (again, at 10 months old, I'm not expecting much active participation from Greg). I really believe that so much of early faith formation is planting seeds and nurturing faith. My kids might not "get" it right now, but it is my hope and prayer that if we're consistent, then the seeds will eventually sprout and grow.

Anyone have any other ideas? This is sort of off the top of my head, so I haven't done much research. And I'm not exactly an expert in children's ministry, either.

Life, Death, and Everything in Between

2010-11-30T21:51:00.037-05:00

This post is in honor of National Hospice and Palliative Care Month, which ends today.

I wasn't always passionate about palliative care, hospice, and end-of-life issues. In fact, I distinctly remember a time when I was very much on the "do whatever necessary to keep someone alive" bandwagon. When I was in high school or college, my maternal grandmother told me about her "living will" and desire to not be resuscitated if she stopped breathing. I was horrified. She was in her late 70s and in fairly good shape for a woman her age, but she did have a heart condition. In my youthful arrogance, I imagined myself ignoring her wishes, doing CPR anyway, and having her thank me when she woke up because...why, I don't know.
My views on that subject began to be more flexible when I went to seminary, which tends to be a time of examination and reformation of values, anyway. As I formally studied ethics for the first time, I began to become a little more open-minded. During my final semester of seminary, the Terri Schiavo case was front and center in the news, and there was a lot of discussion in our community around that issue.

However, it wasn't until the summer after I graduated from seminary that my current passion for end-of-life care was kindled. As part of my requirements for ordination, I did a unit of Clinical Pastoral Education at a local hospice. (In case you're not familiar with Clinical Pastoral Education, or CPE, it's basically supervised chaplaincy work, reflection in groups and one-on-one with a supervisor, and teaching seminars.) Over the next ten weeks, I learned so much about intentional living and dying, quality of life vs quantity of life, and the courage it takes to stop curative treatment, accept the end of your life is near, and do whatever possible to die on your terms. I was able to walk with several patients and families on that journey. One of my favorite memories was spending time with Charlotte, a patient with terminal cancer, the day before she died. We had gotten to know each other fairly well, and it was both painful and rewarding to pray with her and tell her goodbye, knowing that the next time I saw her would be in heaven. She died on her terms; surrounded by family in the inpatient hospice unit.

The phrase "dying with dignity" is often tossed around by those of us in "the business", but it's really a misnomer. Dying, in and of itself, is completely undignifying. After all, by the end you lose control of most things and are totally dependent on other people. I think a better phrase is "dying with as much dignity as possible", but I guess that doesn't sound as pretty.

The fact is, one of two things are going to occur: either Jesus will come to us (i.e. the Second Coming) or we will go to Him (i.e. death. I'm not preaching universal salvation; I'm simply saying that I believe we will all have our five minutes with Jesus before going to our final destination). Unless Jesus returns in our lifetimes, WE ARE GOING TO DIE. Moreover, we don't know how or when that will occur. I may be only 34 years old, in good health, and live a low-risk life, but I could die tomorrow or I could live another 60 years. Or, something could happen and I could receive devastating physical and/or mental injuries. I don't know the future, and neither do you. Only God knows the future.

Therefore, it makes complete sense to me to make some preparation and do some reflection on the future, and I encourage everyone else to do the same. First, everyone over 18 should have an Advance Directive (click on the link for more information and a way to download one that meets your state's guidelines). If Terri Schiavo had had one, then the whole fiasco over the feeding tube probably wouldn't have happened. Second, you should discuss with your family (parents, siblings, spouse, or children depending on your place in life) what your wishes are in regards to artificial life support, organ donation, and the like. That way, if you can't communicate your wishes, your family and Advance Directive can do it for you. Third, think about what gives your life the most meaning, and what you might be willing to give up in order to prolong your life. For example, my mother had to "back away" from some things she's been doing for years and LOVES, because of the time commitment and side effects of her chemotherapy. However, for right now, she feels that it's worth it to give those things up in order to have a fighting chance to have more years with her family (not that it's my decision to make, but I agree). Finally, if you're over 60 or have a major health condition, I would also have a funeral home picked out and (if you're not a part of a local faith community), have an idea of who you would like to do your funeral. There have been so. many. times. when I have worked with a family whose loved one is dying/unable to communicate/just died and they are lost as to what to do, what the person would have wanted, what funeral home to call, etc. Advance planning, as difficult emotionally and logistically as it is, can make things so much easier when the moment comes.

And if you can afford it, get life insurance for yourself each member of your family. It's not uncommon for funeral expenses to run past $10K, so I would recommend at least that much, if not also enough to pay for outstanding medical bills, joint debts (if you're married), and any other transitional expenses.

My grandmother died in July of 2009 as a result of her heart condition and injuries resulting from a fall a few months prior. She simply went into cardiac arrest, and since she was a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate), that was that. I was not with her when she died, but if I had been, I simply would have held her hand, told her I loved her, and let her go*. Because it was what she wanted, and it was the best way for her to die with SOME dignity.

*Not that it would have been my decision. She had actually made my cousin Mike her power of attorney, so he would have made the decision. But you get my drift.

I'm jumping off my soapbox now. I could write another several paragraphs, but your eyes are probably already glazing over. (: However, if you ever have any questions or comments, leave them in the comments section below or e-mail me, and I'll be happy to either answer them or point you in the right direction. I'm not an expert by any means, but fairly well-informed and very passionate on this subject.

My Kid Saved Me $110...

2010-11-29T22:05:00.002-05:00

Explanation for the title: under our insurance plan, a doctor's visit is a $15 co-pay and an Emergency Room visit is a $125 co-pay. Read on...

So, when I checked Greg's temp this morning, it was back to normal. I debated not taking him to the doctor, but decided to go ahead and take him, because he still seemed miserable in the Respiratory Department. He was coughing a lot and wheezing a lot.

Our pediatrician has drop-in hours from 7:30-9:00 am, and we arrived a little after 8am. The waiting room was full (I expected it after the weekend, especially a holiday weekend). Almost four hours, one nurse practitioner visit, two nebulizer treatments, one chest X-ray, and a tentative diagnosis (only tentative because they can't run the actual test in the office) of RSV/bronchiolitis later, we left the building. They gave me a nebulizer machine for Greg (well, they're actually billing our insurance for it) and prescriptions for liquid Albuterol (for the nebulizer) and a steroid. The chest X-ray was to rule out pneumonia. Thankfully, that came back negative.

Remember this post from when Susanna was a baby? Susanna had the same thing Greg has. Apparently, Greg had reached that critical point in his illness where he was really having trouble breathing. He actually slept fairly well last night (in three or four hour stretches), which was why I was so surprised that he seemed so bad off this morning. Had he begun showing signs of distress overnight (the way Susanna did when she had bronchiolitis), I would have had to take him to the ER (which I did with Susanna*). Wasn't that thoughtful of him to wait a few hours before having breathing difficulties? I'm SURE he did that intentionally (of course he didn't. It was purely by chance).

So, we have a fairly sick little boy on our hands, but he will be OK in a few days. For now, we're giving him breathing treatments every four hours and a steroid once a day. He goes back to the pediatrician on Wednesday, but hopefully things will be better by then.

I have another post brewing about hospice and palliative care (hey! did you know that November is National Hospice and Palliative Care month? Neither did I until today!), but that will take actual time and more thought than I can drum up right now. Hopefully that will show up tomorrow.

*In Susanna's/my defense, I had already taken her to an Urgent Care center once and called the pediatrician's answering service early that evening when she seemed to be getting worse. I think that if medical care in Danville had been better, the ER trip would have been unnecessary, because the bronchiolitis would have been caught earlier.

Random Ramblings, Sunday Afternoon Edition

2010-11-28T16:49:00.000-05:00

Greg is better, I think. He slept better last night than he did on Friday night. He's eating again (only liquids, but at least he's not dehydrated) and he occasionally has happy moments, which are relieving to see. I'm still taking him to the doctor in the morning, unless a miracle happens overnight. He still has a fever, a nasty cough, and is incredibly fussy. I want to rule out an ear infection, bronchitis, or croup. With my luck, they'll tell me it's a cold and will go away on its own. However, to me it's worth the co-pay for my peace of mind (or antibiotics, if he needs them).

We skipped church this morning because Greg wasn't feeling well (so one of us had to stay home). I had thought that James would take Susanna, but she has a yucky cough (still not sure if she needs to go to the doctor, or if I should keep her home from school tomorrow) and James was feeling sub-par. So, we all stayed home. I'm sure the women who work in the nursery were weeping over not seeing their favorite baby. However, people in the congregation may have been happy that the loud toddler was missing. Susanna likes to dance and sing during the songs (not really a problem) and offer commentary during quieter moments (including the sermon, which is why she goes to Children's Church midway through the service). I know it bothers me more than other people, and I'm willing to bet that our pastor doesn't even notice it (I used to be able to tune Susanna out while preaching, and since he has children, I'm sure there was a time when his children did this), but I still feel self-conscious.

Susanna, by the way, is showing some rather disturbing tendencies. In addition to offering insightful commentary during sermons, she has been known to pick up and "read": official Annual Conference documents (such as the Minute Questions from the Clergy Session at Annual Conference), a piece called By Water and the Spirit (the official UM teaching on baptism), and just the other week picked up one of our bibles and demanded that James read her the first two chapters of Genesis. If she starts reciting the Great Thanksgiving (a.k.a Eucharistic Prayer), I'll know I'm in trouble.

Gotta go...Greg is making discontented noises. Tomorrow's blog post will reveal the Big Mystery: What is wrong with my baby boy? A bad cold? Ear infection? RSV? Croup? Stay tuned...

Quick Takes, Sick Baby Edition

2010-11-27T21:16:00.002-05:00

1. Sheesh, I'm tired, and I'm on call tonight and then on Monday night.

2. The reason I'm tired is a certain little boy named Gregory James who is sick. The sickest I've ever seen him, actually. Last night he really didn't sleep, except for a two-hour period. Today he had a fever (101 and higher), a bad cough, and for several hours was exceedingly fussy. He seemed to feel better after his afternoon nap, but he still didn't want much to eat, so I'm worried about dehydration.

3. We put up our Christmas tree today. It's not decorated, but probably will be in the next day or so. I've never been a huge fan of putting up the tree so early (Advent and all), but last year we couldn't find any lights TWO WEEKS before Christmas (we save the lights every year, but some always don't work the next year). So, this year we're putting it up early.

4. Being a PRN (as-needed) chaplain is either feast or famine. A few weeks ago I was in the middle of "feast" mode: lots of extra on-call shifts, one regular day shift, and plenty of pages while on-call. Right now, I'm in the middle of "famine" mode: I've had about eight on-call shifts in the past three weeks, but only one of them has netted an actual page (I get paid $1.50/hr for carrying the pager, and then my regular hourly rate plus a "shift differential" whenever I answer a page), so my last paycheck was fairly small. However, that's going to change. I have three daytime shifts scheduled for December in addition to my regular twice-weekly on-call duties.

5. I bought Susanna the Candyland game at Target this afternoon because it was only $4 and I thought she'd like it. The first time, she was more interested in the pretty game board and the cards than the actual game and rules. However, the second game (which she played with James) was a little bit more fruitful. We shall see. Of course, now she'll be asking me to play Candyland every five minutes, but that's what parenthood is about, isn't it?

6. My traffic has really not picked up very much, and I was hoping it would as a result of my posting (almost) every day this month. I'm thinking of doing NaBloPoMo again in December (it's actually an ongoing thing you can sign up for now, not just a once-a-year deal) and actually making it all the way through this time. Maybe then I'll get more traffic...we shall see. Any suggestions?

7. Remember my de-lurking post from a week or so ago? I've done what I said I was going to do; I've left comments on just about every blog I've been "lurking" on and have begun "following" some new bloggers on Twitter. I feel good about that, and it will be interesting to see if any new Internet friendships come out of it.

Greg is crying! Bye!

RevGal Friday Five: Pie-ola

2010-11-26T19:18:00.001-05:00

And once again, it's time for the Rev Gal's Friday Five. And once again, I'm posting it here instead of on my other blog that's actually part of the web ring. But it's NaBloPoMo! And I need a post.

Please answer these five questions about pie:
1) Are pies an important part of a holiday meal?
Of course! It's not Thanksgiving/Christmas without pie!

2) Men prefer pie; women prefer cake. Discuss.
I didn't know this; not sure that it applies to me. I like both pie and cake. James says that it would depend on the cake/pie being offered. I take that to mean in general, he likes both.

3) Cherries--do they belong in a pie?
Oh, yes. I love cherry pie!

4) Meringue--if you have to choose, is it best on lemon or chocolate?
Lemon. Definitely lemon.

5) In a chicken pie, what are the most compatible vegetables? Anything you don't like to find in a chicken pie?
Carrots, peas, green beans, onions....I don't like beans, so wouldn't want to find those in a pie.

Perspective and Giving Thanks

2010-11-25T20:21:00.001-05:00

About three hours ago, I was feeling somewhat grumpy. Our Thanksgiving dinner had gone very well (and been given rave reviews), been eaten, and the leftovers put away. The dishes had been washed, and my parents and brother had already left. But I was feeling out of sorts and not really in the holiday spirit at all. There were reasons for that feeling, of course. Very valid reasons, as a matter of fact. I'm not going to focus on them right now.

I decided to take a break and checked F*cebook. One of the first status messages that cropped up was from my mom: "We had a delicious dinner at chez Money with great food and great company. It was a lovely afternoon. We have so much to be thankful for."

Talk about a reality check and reminder. After all, that statement came from a woman who just this year has experienced a life-threatening diagnosis, four surgeries (five, if you count the port-fixing one) in three months, and is five months into an indefinite chemo cycle of two weeks on, one week off. Her life has been totally changed in the past nine months and (realistically speaking), will never be the same. Yet she can come up with that sort of statement. If she can have that sort of attitude of thanksgiving, then I can, too. After all, one of the main reasons I was feeling like a "Thanksgiving Scrooge" was because I was worried/upset about the effects of the chemo on her well-being (which is going very well, but it's not without drawbacks, of course).

So, I began seeing things in a better light. After all, I had my entire immediate family with me for Thanksgiving. Both of my parents are alive, and live thirty minutes away from me. Ditto for my little brother. I have a husband who loves me (and who can cook a fabulous meal) and two beautiful, HEALTHY, and charming children. I have a full stomach, live in a lovely home in a safe neighborhood, and all my needs (and most of my wants) are provided for. It is highly likely that this weekend, I will get to see one of my dearest friends, one whom I haven't seen in two years (she's one of those wonderful college friends I mentioned in an earlier post, and she lives about eight hours away). Most importantly, I am a creation of the Most High God, whose love is so high and deep and wide that I cannot begin to fathom it.

And then I got a call asking if I could possibly be on-call tonight, and the gratitude my fellow chaplain expressed when I said "yes" warmed my heart (and the opportunity to earn money helped, too).

And THEN, while I was reading her a story from her kiddie Bible, Susanna said "I have to go potty" and she ran to the bathroom, sat on the potty, and PEED IN THE POTTY. People, that is monumental. It makes me think that she's finally "getting" the whole potty training thing, and she may indeed be potty trained before she learns to read.

So tonight, I will go to bed feeling grateful. And all it took was a quick peek at F*cebook to get the perspective needed to be grateful.

Happy Thanksgiving!

'Twas the Night Before Thanksgiving...

2010-11-24T19:05:00.000-05:00

...And our kitchen has been busy for most of the afternoon and evening

James has made six (6) pies: two each of pumpkin, sweet potato, and pecan.
I made cranberry sauce, which is now chilling in the fridge.
Tomorrow, James is planning on waking up at 6 am to make the stuffing, thaw the turkey if necessary (it's been in our fridge since Sunday, but you never know...), and pop the turkey in the oven.
In addition to the cranberry sauce, I am making sweet potatoes. That, cleaning the house, setting the table, and cleaning up afterwards (no small feat!) are my contributions to Thanksgiving. James does everything else.
James' mom is here (she lives four hours away) and my parents and brother will come over tomorrow afternoon (they live about half an hour away) for dinner.
Greg is already asleep, and has been for almost an hour. I think his teeth were bothering him. Hopefully he'll sleep tonight. I have a "My First Thanksgiving" bib for him for tomorrow, as well as pureed sweet potatoes, green beans, and turkey tetrazzini.

Hope that tomorrow is wonderful for everyone! Happy Thanksgiving!

Three is (not so much) a Magic Number

2010-11-23T20:36:00.001-05:00

I included the above video so in case you've never heard the song "Three Is A Magic Number" by Schoolhouse Rock, you can be properly educated. My tenth grade English teacher used to play this for us frequently. Why? I don't know. He just did.

So, Susanna has been Three for almost three months. I have heard many conflicting reports about Three. Many of my friends warned me about how awful their children were at Three, even worse than at Two. Still others assured me that Three wasn't that bad because you can REASON with a three-year-old. And many people told me that it was a really fun age. Based on these varying reports, I had no idea what to expect.

They were all right.

There are many wonderful, wonderful things that I'm enjoying about having a child who is Three. First, Susanna's speech has improved by light years in the past four or five months. She can easily carry on a conversation, regularly uses four or five-word sentences, and appears to add new vocabulary on a daily basis. She's started to sing songs she learns in church, at school, or that she hears on the radio/TV. Second, her imagination has just taken off in the past few months. She loves to dress up and engage in pretend play. One of the games we play (I've dubbed it "Showtime") involves us taking turns performing for each other. She also likes taking turns singing "Happy Birthday" and blowing out imaginary candles on a cake made out of Play-Doh. Third, she is much more aware of the world around her, and is beginning to have (somewhat) significant relationships outside of our family with her teachers, classmates, and others. This may be unique to Susanna, but she's also been very affectionate with us and with Greg. It's kinda cute.

But then there are the negative aspects of Three, and these negative aspects make me glad that I have nine guaranteed Susanna-free hours a week. First, she is extremely stubborn and always wants things done HER way. If she doesn't get her way, then there is Great Weeping and Gnashing of Teeth. Or, she simply refuses to do what we ask her to do, regardless of the consequences. Exhibit A: dinner. Our rule is that she needs to eat at least two bites of her dinner (which is exactly what we're having for dinner, no exceptions) if she's going to watch TV later. However, she keeps on refusing to eat and THEN throwing a temper tantrum when she asks for "Elmo" (aka "Sesame Street") and we tell her "no" because she didn't eat. Second, she seems to think that everything is hers, and we constantly hear the word "mine" be applied to things like my iPhone, James' iPad, Greg's toys, etc. Any correction to the contrary is met with Great Weeping and Gnashing of Teeth. Finally, she is alternately independent and dependent, both to great extremes. One moment she is insisting that she brush her teeth (badly) without assistance. The next moment she refuses to go down the stairs without me by her side and holding her hand. And again, any time I try and either help her/encourage independence (depending on the situation), there is....(all together, now) Great Weeping and Gnashing of Teeth.

So, I think the best description for Three comes from Charles Dickens: "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times." Here's hoping Four will be better...

Pack The Knife - Capitol Steps

2010-11-22T19:20:00.001-05:00

I'm tired and don't have much energy for posting, plus I have cleaning to do. Enjoy this video, especially if you're traveling by air this holiday week. This video is from 2008, but it's still funny...

Random Ramblings, Sunday Evening Edition

2010-11-21T20:21:00.001-05:00

James cleaned the carpet in the family room today. It was waay overdue, and since we're hosting Thanksgiving this year, the timing was right. It looks much better, but I find the smell of carpet cleaner overwhelming. Hopefully it will be better in the morning.

We didn't make it to Sunday School today, but we did make it to church. That was definitely a good thing, because the service was awesome, and I'm glad we didn't miss it. From the prayer concerns posted in the bulletin and on Twitter, and from what our pastor said, it was a rough week. There had already been three funerals and the fourth was scheduled for this afternoon. Plus Charge Conference (annual meeting with the district superintendent) and several more members in the hospital. So a rough week for the congregation and also for our poor pastor (although he didn't complain, of course. Or even mention himself in the equation. But I bet it was a really, really, rough week for him. I bet his wife hardly saw him. Hopefully he'll be able to take a break over Thanksgiving). I don't know if this was planned or in response to the events of the week (probably the latter), but the sermon was based on Colossians 1:11-20 (click on the link to read the passage) and essentially focused on God being with us through the rough times. After the sermon, he did an altar call (I can't think of any other name for it), had several Stephen Ministers up front, and invited us to come to the front if we wanted to pray with someone and be annointed with oil. A lot of people came up (it looked like about 10% of the congregation, which is impressive since there were 200+ people), which showed that his instincts were right; a lot of people were/are hurting. Anyway, it was a powerful service and one that makes me glad that we are part of this church.

We got a new oven a few weeks ago. Did I mention that? Anyway, it's very exciting. Our old one worked but was becoming "finicky". Last year, it took over eight hours to cook the Thanksgiving turkey and it burned the pecan pie that James made. Sometimes it would overcook stuff, sometimes it would undercook stuff, and sometimes it was fine. Since we were hosting Thanksgiving again this year, we decided it was a good excuse to get a new stove. The new one is really really nice. It's black (we like black appliances), gas, and has a double oven. We also decided to get a new microwave (also black) and installed it over the stove.

Greg is teething. He's apparently an overachiever, because he appears to be cutting both his upper front teeth AND his molars. Yes, really. We're thanking God for infant Motrin and also shoving frozen stuff into his mouth as often as possible.

Time to go and double-check that Susanna hasn't flushed my iPhone down the toilet. Have a great Sunday night!

Seven Quick Takes, Quick-for-me Edition

2010-11-20T21:32:00.005-05:00

1. Today James and I had a date, our first one in over a month. We went to see "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 1". I highly recommend it. I think it stayed very true to the books and ended at just the right point in the narrative. We contemplated going to see it in IMAX, but decided to save our money and see this installment at the regular theatre. However, we plan on seeing "Part 2" at the IMAX theatre, because it will be in 3D.

2. After the movie we had "lunner" at Olive Garden. The movie ended around 3:30 and we really hadn't had lunch (unless you count the ridiculously expensive popcorn), so we dubbed our meal "lunner". After that we made a quick trip to Home Depot to look at knobs for the cabinets and drawers in the kitchen and bathrooms. We found one that both of us like, so James may be going back later this week to buy them.

3. I think that the check I wrote to the baby-sitter may have been almost as much as what our tickets, snack, and meal cost. Baby-sitters are expensive! We love ours (she's 16, lives on the next corner, she's very responsible and resourceful, and our kids love her) and we pay her the going rate, but she makes almost half my hourly rate. Isn't there something WRONG with that?

4. Incidentally, we've only recently had to start paying a baby-sitter. My mom used to always baby-sit Susanna when we needed a date night/afternoon/overnight. It's not like it was every week; more like once a month at best. However, since the Unwelcome Visitor (breast cancer and the four surgeries and chemo that have followed) arrived, Mom hasn't been as available as she used to be (which is OK, because the surgeries and now chemo treatments are hopefully ensuring that she will be able to watch her grandchildren grow up. It's a trade off, and I'll take it.) She still helps out; she watched them overnight for us when we went to a wedding in Richmond last month, transported Susanna from preschool to daycare for me two weeks ago, and took Greg for me one night so that I could get a few nights' sleep. We just realized that we couldn't keep riding the "grandma gravy train" forever.

5. Remember my how part of my "grand plan" for saving money on clothes was to sell Susanna's outgrown clothes via consignment? That may not be as easy as I thought. On Tuesday, I (along with my two sidekicks) took a box of mint-condition clothes to a local consignment shop that pays cash for secondhand kids' stuff. The lady looked through it...and bought a pair of shoes and a sweater. I chose store credit, so I now have...$2.40 in store credit. She handed back the rest of the box, which included a girls 2T winter coat (I would think that would be a hot item, but I guess not). I have a few other places I can try, and several more boxes of clothes, but I may be looking at either Craigslist or simply donating them.

6. James and I are planning on going "Sunday School class hunting" tomorrow. We haven't been part of a small group/Sunday school class in years. When we were in Lexington, we had a wonderful small group. I still miss them, four years later. When we moved to Danville, the church I was serving really only had one adult Sunday school class, and James didn't like the style (it was more lecture than anything else) and I liked using the time for last-minute sermon and worship prep. When we moved here, we didn't really try to find a class at the first church we attended (none of the Sunday School descriptions sounded interesting to us, and my schedule made weeknight evenings difficult). We've been at our current church for almost a year, but haven't made much of an effort in that area. Sad, I know, especially for a clergy person! So, we're going to begin making it a priority, for our relationship with each other, with God, and so our children can go to Sunday school.

7. I'm on-call tonight, and hoping to actually get a page (or two). I had a "Pager Palooza" weekend over Halloween (meaning I had four on-calls and one full-day shift in four days) and made loads of money, but I've had four on-call nights since then, and my pager has been silent for all of them. I take calls from home (so it's not like I'm away from home) and do get a pittance ($1.50/hr) just for carrying the pager, so it's not like I'm spending nights elsewhere and having nothing to show for it. However, my next paycheck is going to be on the light side. Thank God that I'm not the primary breadwinner!

Hope you're having a great weekend!

You're in the Right Place! Same Blog, New Title and Design

2010-11-20T18:35:00.001-05:00

If you're looking for "Life and Times of the Moneys", you're in the right place. I changed the title (it seemed appropriate, since it's becoming more of a multipurpose blog than a family newsletter-type blog) and am fiddling around with the design. This is more time-consuming than I thought (and I'm just using Blogger's stuff; no HTML or fancy stuff at all), so this post may have to "count" as my post for today.

Unexpected Thanksgivings

2010-11-19T20:36:00.001-05:00

The RevGals are focusing on Thanksgiving for this Friday Five. (NOTE: I'm a member of the web ring via another blog I own. Since I'm mostly writing over here right now, I'll do the Friday Five here. I'm sure they won't mind)

Name five things in your life that were unexpected for which you are now grateful

1. My little brother, Bart. From what my mom has told me, she had pretty much given up on having a second child. She was going to have a tubal ligation done (I don't know if she was still contemplating it or had actually been to the doctor for a consult) when she found out that she was pregnant with Bart. Although Bart's disability and health issues have certainly made things a little more difficult (especially for my parents, who have born the brunt of it), I can really see how God's grace has shown through Bart and touched our family.

2. Winding up at my undergraduate alma mater and absolutely loving it. I had my heart set on another school, a small womens college in North Carolina. I had been accepted there and had already sent in my deposit to reserve my spot in the freshman class. But for some reason (possibly my lackluster grades and the equally lackluster financial aid I was offered), my parents insisted on taking me on an official visit to E&H. By the end of the visit, the financial aid office had increased the amount of aid and I had decided that I could be happy there. I actually planned on transferring someplace else after a year (where, I don't know), but by the second day of freshman orientation I knew I didn't want to leave. It was at E&H that I found a renewed relationship with God, discovered and answered a call to ministry, and met people who are dear, dear friends to this day.

3. Our first dog, Woody. James and I stopped at a Humane Society on a whim one afternoon and found Woody. We didn't take him home because we wanted to think about it, and then James said he wanted to wait a few more months before getting a dog. I agreed, although I was disappointed because I had really liked Woody. The very next day, James surprised me by bringing home Woody. I was absolutely delighted. It's the nicest thing he's ever done for me.

4. My CPE residency. After I finished my first unit of CPE in 2005, I knew I wanted to do more CPE, possibly a residency. However, I planned to wait until after I had been ordained and maybe when my children (planned, but unborn as of yet) were older. However, then Danville-gate happened and I was in need of both healing and a ministry venue (I had been offered an appointment by the Annual Conference, but turned it down because it was further west than Danville). My residency offered both, and I am very thankful for both my supervisor and colleagues.

5. Greg. I've already said it best here.

Please Stop Me From Driving to Minneapolis and Throttling These People!!

2010-11-18T20:09:00.001-05:00

One of my Face*Book friends posted a link to a story about this website. Check it out for yourself. It may or may not be a hoax, but I find it disturbing regardless.

If this couple and this situation are authentic and not a hoax, then I am simply speechless with rage. I just can't see how anyone could a) abort a healthy (i.e. without a terminal condition) 20-week fetus in the first place, b) especially after viewing said fetus via ultrasound multiple times, and c) ask the Internet to VOTE on whether or not to abort the fetus because they're "not sure they're ready to be parents." I'm in the pro-life camp on a normal day (although I think there are a few exceptions-such as when the mother's life is clearly in danger and delivery is the only option, or when the fetus has a condition that is 100% fatal), but I think most of my pro-choice friends are horrified by this story, too.

If this is indeed a hoax/pro-life publicity stunt, I find it tasteless. There are other ways to make your point besides leading people to believe that they are voting for or against an abortion. Assuming that at least the pregnancy is valid, I hate to think what this poor child will think if/when he or she finds out about it via Google or some other search engine. This entire situation smacks of exploitation and disregard for others.

Just in case this is "the real deal", please go to the website and vote for the giving birth option. And if you would lean towards the abortion option, then I hope you get "lost" on the way there.

Finding My Own Mothering Style

2010-11-17T21:02:00.001-05:00

This year, the director of the preschool Susanna attends asked for volunteers to join the Parents' Council. I joined for three reasons: first, I wanted to be involved; second, I hoped it would be a good chance to make some friends of my own (two years after moving here, I still have precious few friends in this area); and three, if I made friends with some of the moms, then maybe our children could become friends.

The purpose of our first meeting was to discuss plans for the upcoming Fall Festival. The church was actually running it, but wanted the preschool to host a few activities for children. I attended the meeting, but had no clue what I would contribute. I had absolutely no ideas. During the meeting, most of the other moms came up with brilliant ideas: face painting, a hayride, a bounce house, painting pottery, story-telling, etc. They enthused about different craft ideas and offered supplies from their personal stash. I sort of sat there and allowed myself to have an inferiority complex about what a sub-standard stay-at-home mom I am because I don't subscribe to Oriental Trading, almost never engage my child in craft projects, and can't tell stories using funny voices.

I'm a good mother. I know that without a doubt. I may only have three years of mothering under my belt (and the hardest part is yet to come), but so far my children are happy, healthy, well-adjusted, well-behaved (at least around other people), and appear to love me and want to be near me. Heck, just tonight Susanna wouldn't let me leave her room until I read her a Bible story (from her kiddie Bible) and allowed her to kiss me.

But I think sometimes society paints this picture of "the perfect mother" and I (along with other moms) get tricked into thinking that unless we do X and Y and Z, we are falling short of the mark. We also compare ourselves to other mothers and maybe even our own mothers, and that does us no good whatsoever. My mom was/is an excellent mother, and there are many of her methods that I use with my children (and some, like "the subjunctive mood" that I'm holding onto for the right time). But then there are things that she did (like sew a good deal of my clothes when I was younger) that I just can't/don't want to do (I tried to learn how to sew, I really did. I even took a sewing class. But my fine motor skills are horrible, and I'm just no good at it. I don't enjoy it, either).

So, I can't/won't sew my children's clothes/costumes. But, I am very good at bargain-hunting and can find clothes that are stylish and good quality without spending a fortune.

I am not one of those moms who can't stand the thought of leaving her children for any length of time. I confess that every time I get called into work, I'm practically leaping with joy at the thought of being with adults for the day. I had no qualms at leaving both of them with my parents overnight last month, and would love to go away with James for longer than that. Of course I miss them and am delighted to see them when I return; I'm just able to enjoy being away from them, too. But, I have made some major professional sacrifices to be a stay-at-home-mom most of the time, and I've found that by spending the occasional day apart from them, I enjoy my children that much more.

I don't do crafts. I have no aptitude or interest in them. However, I send Susanna to preschool and Sunday school so she can have the opportunity to do crafts, and will happily purchase materials and encourage her creativity. I'll do the same for Greg when he gets older. I'm just not going to be leading Susanna and Greg in crafty activities. Ditto for making photo collages or anything else creative.

I don't lead my children in regular devotions and probably never will, unless they ask me to. But I pray for them, and with them, and I read them Bible stories. I also occasionally give theological lectures that are over their heads, but oh well.

Susanna has a partially-completed baby book and Greg has a totally empty baby book. However, chances are that if you ask me when either of them reached a milestone, I can give you at least a ballpark answer. And I have a good idea (also off the top of my head) of how tall they were/how much they weighed at a certain age. And unlike A CERTAIN MOTHER I SHALL NOT NAME, I have kept careful records of their immunizations, in case either of them ever need it as an adult.**

I didn't breastfeed either of them for a whole year, but I certainly put a lot of effort into it, and made it past six months with Susanna (exclusively pumping to boot!) and almost six months with Greg. (NOTE: Not that I think mothers who exclusively formula-feed are substandard. I just really wanted to exclusively breastfeed for a year for my own reasons). And the reason I stopped breastfeeding with both of them was so I could get back onto medications for my ADD and depression. In other words, so I could be sane and happy, both of which are essential for good mothering.

I also don't make my own baby food or buy organic, but also don't feed them McDonald's every day. Most importantly? I FEED THEM, and they're well-nourished and healthy.

Bottom line? While I'm not exactly the mother I "always imagined I'd be" and sometimes fall short of even my own standards, I am a good mother. I am developing my own mothering style, and realizing that so many of these little things aren't going to matter in the long run. After all, I don't remember if my mother did any crafts with me (I'm sure she did) and I certainly don't remember her making my own baby food, but I remember her loving me, and guiding me, and disciplining me when necessary. I remember her being THERE for me, and being my mother. And my hope, prayer, and expectation is that years from now, Susanna and Greg will be able to look back and say the same thing about me. And I believe that if I continue in the direction I'm going, they will.

I am a good mother. I may do things differently than my mother did, and I may do things differently than I ever expected I would, but I AM A GOOD MOTHER.

**When I was going through the process to become a certified candidate in the United Methodist Church, I had to fill out some health information that asked for the dates I received certain immunizations. I called my mom, and she said..."oh gosh, I know you got all those, but I have no clue when. The doctor's office always had that info." So, I called my pediatrician's office, and it turned out they had destroyed my medical records several years ago (since I was now 26 and hadn't seen them in at least six years). So...um...it all worked out somehow! Right! Actually, I've had my blood drawn and my titers (immunization levels) checked, so I know I'm immune to everything I need to be.

Coming Out of Lurkdom

2010-11-16T19:16:00.001-05:00

I sort of have a self-confidence problem. When I mention this, I tend to get two different reactions. Reaction #1 (usually from people who know me well) is usually: "[snort] Really? I hadn't noticed." Reaction #2 (usually from people who don't know me as well) is: "Really? You seem so confident and self-assured."

But yes, I have issues with self-confidence, especially when it comes to personal and professional relationships. It's gotten better over the years and I can mask it when I need to (which is why I have no problem entering a total stranger's hospital room and engaging them in deep conversation), but it's still there. Even when it comes to the Internet, which is why I rarely comment on people's blogs. It's not because I don't want to, but because I have this neurotic fear that I'll say something totally stupid and they'll laugh and call me names through their computer screen. And I'll be shut out of the virtual lunch table or something. Yeah, even I think that's ridiculous.

So, I've decided to change that. There are a number of blogs that I have been reading and following for a while (as long as two or three years) and I have rarely, if ever, commented on them for the precise reasons above. These aren't people like Stephanie and Alyssa, both of whom I know in real life (although I haven't seen them in over four years). They're simply people whose blogs I enjoy reading and (frequently) have benefited from reading them in some way. But a few things have recently occurred to me. First, that unless I post a comment that is obscene or really really weird, I have nothing to lose. The worst that can happen is...nothing. After all, most of these fellow bloggers are also mothers and wives, so they have something better to do than talk about Patti and her silly comments. Right? Right. Second, as a blogger myself, I know how much I value comments (HINT, HINT) because it shows that people are reading my posts and appreciating what I read. I also appreciate people linking to my blog and the increased traffic it brings.

The potential benefits (new friendships, new knowledge, increased traffic) of my commenting on blog posts, following new people on Twitter, and commenting on Tweets are more numerous than any potential drawback (and the only one I can think of is absolutely nothing changing, which isn't exactly a drawback.)

So, this week I have made, and will continue to make, a concerted effort to comment on every blog that I have been reading on a regular basis. And if you have been lurking on my blog, or are a new reader, could you please leave a comment? Thanks!

Saying "Bye Bye" to Wally World

2010-11-15T15:46:00.001-05:00

About three miles south of us, they're building a Wal-Mart. This does NOT make me happy, because I just don't like Wal-Mart. Let me explain...

There was once a time when I loved Wal-Mart. Growing up in Northern Virginia (inside the Beltway, for those of you who know about those things), I had heard that such a store existed, but I had never actually been inside of one. There were no cheap stores like that in my area; it was Giant, Safeway, or bust. So when I went off to college and entered a Wally World (my personal name for it) for the first time, I felt like I had entered a new universe. There was a Super Wal-Mart about twenty miles from my campus, conveniently located at the same exit as a Perkins, and both were open 24 hours a day. Prime fodder for college students. I spent many hours and lots of money at Wal-Mart, because it had EVERYTHING: groceries, cleaning supplies, makeup, clothes, organizational stuff, etc etc. You could even eat there, because it had a McDonald's. I was a junkie.

I continued to be a loyal Wal-Mart shopper through seminary, because it was cheap and since James and I were both in grad school, cheap was GOOD. When we moved to Danville we had more income, but Wal-Mart was pretty much the only show in town. There were a few Food Lions, but they never seemed to have everything we needed. Wal-Mart always did, so that's where we shopped. But I was getting sick and tired of it...the crowds, the lack of customer service, how it would frequently be out of stock of stuff, etc, etc.

When we moved to Chesapeake, we suddenly had lots of options in terms of grocery stores. There are four different grocery stores within five miles of our house, and the nearest Wal-Mart is eight miles away. We went to Wal-Mart the first few months we lived here, and just got fed up. Again, the crowds, the lack of customer service, being out of stock of something critical (to us) no matter what day of the week or time of day we went. Why were we driving all this way just for a miserable experience? Was it really worth it? And Wal-Mart is known for treating its employees badly. Why should we give them our money?

So, when James took over grocery shopping almost two years ago, he began shopping at our neighborhood grocery store. And guess what? Our grocery bills have not increased very much at all. He stocks up on things when they're on sale (and this store has some great sales), uses the customer loyalty care, and every once in a while I hand him some coupons to use (I'm horrible about clipping coupons). He also buys the store brands if they're a good equivalent to the brand name, and is very good about sticking to the list I give him each week (based on what I want to cook for the next week).

The benefits have outweighed the slight increase in our grocery budget; there are fewer lines, excellent customer service (anytime I have both kids with me someone always insists on helping me out to the car, no tips accepted), higher quality produce, easy proximity to our home (less than two miles away), and they even have the option of ordering your groceries online and having them ready when you pull your car up (OK, there's a $5 service fee. But I plan on using it next time James goes out of town. I think not having to drag two kids through the grocery store is worth $5). I also like the fact that I'm really and truly keeping my dollars in my immediate community.

Just to cement our decision, the other week I was coming back from work and dashed into a Wal-Mart to pick up a few supplies for Halloween. I got what I wanted easily enough, but when I went to check out, all I saw were lines of people at least three deep. No self-checkout stations were open. It was about 8:00 pm. I decided that it simply wasn't worth waiting in line for twenty minutes, and put my stuff back.

So, long, Wal-Mart. I won't be missing you.

Guest Post From Greg

2010-11-14T18:56:00.002-05:00

Hi people,
   This is Gregory James, James and Patti's younger child. Also known as: "Greg", "Greggie", "Greggie James", "His Lordship", "McScreamy"...you get the idea. I thought I'd tell you about my day.

    Mommy may have told you that I'm not the best sleeper in the world. Well, I tried to be nice to her and I slept for over ten hours last night. It's the last time I do something nice for her, because I just got mistreated all day...First, Mommy gave me a bath this morning. Normally, I like baths, but Mommy didn't let me play around in the tub for very long. Then, we headed to church. I saw Nani, Granddad, and Uncle Bart when we got there, which was a pleasant surprise. That was the last nice thing that happened for a while...
    Mommy and Nani took me away from everyone else and put me in a DRESS. A dress, people. Sure, they called it a "baptismal gown" and gave me some spiel about how my great-great-grandfather was baptized in it in 1879, but it was still a dress. Next, Mommy and Nani wouldn't let me go see my "girlfriends" in the nursery but made me go into the church service wearing this ridiculous getup. That was embarrassing enough, until I realized that Mommy was carrying me UP FRONT, ONTO THE STAGE. A few minutes later, I heard Mommy and Daddy make a bunch of promises about faith, church, being Christian, whatever, then next thing this guy I don't know very well (Mommy calls him Randy, and says that he's our pastor) poured some water on my face. Dude! I already HAD a bath today, thankyouverymuch. Then he held me up like some sort of prize on display. Finally, we left the stage, Daddy came to my rescue, changed me into some proper little boy clothes and let me go see my girlfriends in the nursery. I breathed a sigh of relief and thought it was over.
      Well, after that ordeal I really wanted to go home and take a nap. But Mommy and Daddy apparently disagreed with that assessment, because they (along with Nani, Granddad, Uncle Bart, Grandma Nina, and our friends Joel, Melissa, and Josh) all went out to lunch and dragged me along. I let them know how displeased I was. Eventually I went to sleep, waking up after a bit to eat some pureed food. They were all taking too long to eat, so I began voicing my displeasure. They were clueless! Here I was, a tired little boy with a soiled diaper who had been subjected to incredible humiliation and on top of all that, MY TEETH HURT! No wonder I was screaming. I was so ticked off with them I wouldn't even smile for any pictures.
     Eventually, we left the restaurant and went home. I got a clean diaper and within minutes was in the comfort of my crib, fast asleep. It will take a while to get over today, though. I mean, really. A dress? Public humiliation? A second bath? Denying me time with my girlfriends? No nap? How much can one little boy take?

Mommy had better watch out tonight. It's payback time, woman.

Addendum to "My Favorite Shows"

2010-11-13T16:57:00.000-05:00

I forgot one! I'm also a huge fan of "Brothers and Sisters", which is entering its fifth season. It stars Sally Field, Calista Flockhart, and until recently, Rob Lowe was part of the cast (he left the show, so they killed him off). One of the things I love about "Brothers & Sisters" is that it's a great show for someone like me, who's a fan of family systems theory. It's about a widow (Nora Walker), her five grown children and their spouses/children, and Nora's brother (who "comes out" in the first few seasons), Saul. From a "systems" perspective, their family is a very healthy one, but they definitely have their moments and quirks. One sign of a health family system is the ability to air emotions, resolve conflicts, and laugh together. The Walkers do all of that.

My Favorite Shows

2010-11-12T21:11:00.000-05:00

I've never been a huge TV person. Growing up, I had a few favorite shows, but rarely watched more than an hour or so a day. In college, I never had a TV in my room, so I almost never watched TV. When James and I got married and I was in seminary, we didn't have cable and of course I was busy studying, working, and being a newlywed. In fact, I didn't begin watching much TV at all until we moved to Danville and I found myself alone at nights whenever James was teaching an evening class. The fall and spring he was working in Norfolk, I developed a few favorites and would either watch them at night or while I was pumping for Susanna.

My TV-watching came to a halt when I began my CPE residency, because I just didn't have the time. However, last fall , when James installed SageTV, I was able to "reunite" with my favorite shows. I record them and then watch them when I have a chance; while exercising, at night after the kids go to bed, or while cleaning up the kitchen and family rooms.

So, here are my favorite shows, and why I like them:

"Fringe"- James got me hooked on this, and it's a show we both like. It's very sci-fi and features a "mad scientist" of sorts and an FBI team that investigates paranormal events. Its very different, and that's why I like it so much.
"House"- Another show that James and I watch together. Dr. House may be a rather arrogant SOB, but he's brilliant and the last few seasons have shown his human side. One of the reasons I like the show is that I wish that I could be as direct as he could and get away with it.
"Desperate Housewives"- My dad actually got me hooked on this show, believe it or not. At first I scoffed at it, but now I find it very entertaining and also a good indicator of human nature. I've also had a good number of "that'll preach" moments while watching it. I'm also simply addicted to the storyline at this point.
"Grey's Anatomy"- So many people I knew were watching this, so I thought I'd check it out. I eventually got hooked. I enjoy medical dramas because I spend a decent amount of time in hospitals and am intrigued by medicine. I know that "Grey's" and "House" are not entirely realistic, of course. The constant game of musical sexual partners grates on me, but I will say that I have had more "that'll preach" moments while watching "Grey's" than any other show.
"Private Practice"- This is a spinoff of "Grey's" and I really just watch it for pure entertainment value.

Happy "Gotcha" Day, Simon!

2010-11-11T20:29:00.000-05:00

Four years ago today, Simon joined our family. You can click on the link to read the story. Back then, he was a little 8 lb ball of black fur. Now, he's 60 lbs of lean muscle and looks like the picture of the left. It's not that great a picture, but it's hard to capture him well, since he seems to be camera shy.

Next to Susanna, Simon is the best thing to come out of our time in Danville. Sure, he chewed up several hundred dollars' worth of shoes (one pair Birkenstocks, one pair of Danskos, and several of my dress shoes), scraped large amounts of paint off my parents' gate, and just this week ate a loaf of bread and some baby formula. He's definitely not perfect, but none of us are.

However, Simon was there to greet us when we arrived home that horrible night Woody died, and his presence helped us through our grief. He has now been with us for longer than Woody was. Simon is a very cuddly dog, and will happily sit on our laps and let us rub his belly for long stretches of time. We joke that he is our "fertility dog", because one month after getting him, I became pregnant with Susanna. When we were moving from Danville to Chesapeake, he stayed with some friends for a long weekend. Two weeks later, they found out that they were expecting their first child. Fertility dog, indeed!

Simon has been a model of gentleness, patience, and love with Susanna. She loves him, and he loves her back. I can see the same relationship beginning to happen with Simon and Greg. Sure, he licks them on the mouth despite our best efforts to prevent that. But he also has let Susanna sit on him, play peek-a-boo with him (using blankets), and generally abuse him (again, despite our best efforts to prevent that). I don't think we could have gotten a better dog if we'd hand-picked him from a breeder.

It's been a great four years, Simon. I hope we have many, many more with you!We love you.

Just so you can see it for yourself. This photo was taken this January, pre-Greg. Notice the toddler sitting on top of the calm dog. Amazing.

Susanna's Favorite Shows

2010-11-10T20:33:00.001-05:00

Last September, we got a DVR-like system (it's called SageTv and it's somewhat complicated to explain. I would have just gotten DVR through the cable company, but that was too easy for James. However, I love Sage now and am addicted to it. So, there.) and our lives changed drastically because we could now record our favorite shows and watch them anytime.

At first, Susanna just had a few shows that we recorded for her: Sesame Street, Curious George, and Ni Hao, Kai-Lan. After we returned from Disney, we added Mickey Mouse Clubhouse to the mix. Keep in mind that we generally only allow her two hours of "TV time" per day, with exceptions made if either one of us is sick. Over the past few months, as she's started school and has been talking with her friends, her taste in television shows has changed. So, here are the shows that are on our DVR, from most-watched to least-watched:

Dinosaur Train (she's nuts about this show. Asks for it multiple times every day.)
Sesame Street
The Wiggles
Dora the Explorer
Mickey Mouse Clubhouse
Curious George
Ni Hao-Kai-lan
Blue's Clues
Caillou (she actually hardly ever watches this; I've stopped recording it altogether, but we still have a few episodes)
Play with Me, Sesame (cute show on PBS/Sprout)

You will notice that the Purple Dinosaur (begins with B, ends with Y) is not on the list. He will never be on the list, because James and I ABHOR him and refuse to let Susanna watch his show. I can watch 5,000 episodes of "Dinosaur Train", but I will not watch B----Y.

Raising children in the 21st century is very different than when I was growing up. We had a VCR and videotapes, but I think there was less quality childrens' programming and of course there was no DVR. My brother and I never watched that much TV anyway.

Want to hear about my favorite shows? Stay tuned...

How to Have a Well-Dressed Child Without Breaking the Bank

2010-11-08T21:38:00.000-05:00

Confession time: I have become a childrens' consignment shop junkie.

One of the most fun yet frustrating things of raising children is the rate at which they go through clothes and shoes. At three years old, Susanna (who currently wears a size 4/XS in girls clothes) has never been in one clothing size for more than five months. She goes through shoe sizes even quicker; I bought her two pairs of shoes in August and she's already grown out of them. Of course, seasons change, so I basically wind up buying the kid a new wardrobe every four to six months. It gets expensive.

For Susanna's first year of life, she subsisted on 70% gifts and 30% purchases by us. I bought most things brand new at various stores (usually on sale) and did have a bunch of luck at a thrift store. Her 12-18 month and 18-24 month wardrobes were purchased in a similar manner; mostly new stuff that was either on sale or from an outlet. Around her second birthday, I discovered the wonders of the consignment sale/store and began developing my SYSTEM. I'm quite proud of my SYSTEM. Here's what I do:

At the beginning of a season (July/August for fall and winter stuff, March/April for spring and summer stuff) I hit one of the local "huge consignment sales". I have a mental list of what she'll need for that season. I go through the racks and stacks of clothing in her size and look for the Big Brand Names (Gymboree, Children's Place, Baby Gap, Janie and Jack, Hartstrings). I'll also pick up stuff from Carter's and Osh Kosh, because I know they're good quality.
Over the next few weeks, I "fill in" any necessary clothing gaps at regular consignment stores. Again, I try and focus on the pricier brand names. I have a penchant for Gymboree, honestly. I love their stuff, but can't afford to buy it in the stores unless it's MAJORLY marked down. I focus on the pricier brand names because they do seem to be the better "deals", meaning that I'll save 60-70% off retail (sometimes more!) versus 40-50% off retail for Carter's/Osh Kosh.
By the time I've outfitted Susanna for the season (which for me, means enough everyday clothes for a week, plus a few extra tops, a couple dresses/skirts, and a couple light jackets/sweaters) I've spent the same amount as I would have buying everything new at Target/Wally World, but the quality is significantly better. This spring/summer things were kind of crazy (what with the whole newborn and mother with breast cancer situations), so I bought everything at Target and Wal-Mart. By the end of the summer, almost all of it was worn out. Buying the expensive stuff also helps the resale value, which brings me to the next part of my plan.
I haven't actually done this yet, but my plan is to re-sell as many clothes as I can. I have about four diaper boxes full of clothes that Susanna has outgrown yet that are in "nearly new" condition. They are Gymboree, Childrens' Place, and private labels. There are multiple consignment shops near me that pay cash for clothes, and I plan on trying them out. My reasoning is that I will at least get a fraction of my money back.

I haven't mentioned Greg in this equation, because I have bought about two pieces of clothing from him thus far. Of course, the cheapest way to have a well-dressed child is to BORROW clothes, which is what we have been able to do with Greg, thanks to the generosity of some friends who have a son who is exactly one year and four days older than Greg. I just finished sorting, folding, and hanging up his 9-12 month clothes. His dresser is full and so is his closet. We're not expecting to ride the gravy train indefinitely, and when we actually have to buy the kid some clothes, I will begin utilizing the above method.

So, in a nutshell, here's the Patti Money method of having a well-dressed child on a dime:

Get free clothes from someone else if at all possible.
Shop consignment sales and consignment shops
If you have to buy new clothes, shop sales, clearance racks, and outlets
Re-sell clothes when possible, or donate them to a good friend to "pay it forward". If our friends who have lent us their son's clothes ever have a daughter, I've promised them all of Susanna's 0-12 month clothes.

Questions? Comments?

Seven Quick Takes, Sunday Afternoon Edition

2010-11-07T16:42:00.001-05:00

1. I totally skipped blogging the past three days because I'm trying to get the house somewhat clean. Emphasis is on "trying." It's not working. I'm horrible at housework and incredibly envious of those women who can have two (or more) children underfoot and still keep a reasonably clean house.

2. Greg is getting baptized next Sunday. We're very excited. He will be wearing the Heirloom Baptismal Gown that his great-great-grandfather wore in 1869? 1879? Anywho, a long time ago. Susanna wore it when she got baptized...at ten weeks of age. Because of all the craziness of this spring and summer, I didn't feel like having Greg baptized right away. So, Greg will be nine months when he gets baptized (Methodist theology does not associate baptism with regenerating grace, so unbaptized babies still go to heaven). It will take a little maneuvering for the gown to fit him, but we're making it work. It's all about TRADITION, darn it. And not wanting to fork over the $$ for a new baptismal gown.

3. I've begun applying for full-time chaplain positions. I love staying at home (most days), but I need to be ordained by 2015 or begin the whole process over again. I need two more years of full-time ministry before I am eligible for ordination. I don't really feel that going back to the local church is an option right now. Therefore, I am looking for chaplain jobs. I applied for three this week, but the job market is fairly competitive in this field, so I'm not sure what to expect.

4. We got a new stove on Thursday. Our old one was original to the house (1994), and while it worked, the thermostat was funky and so things would sometimes take too long to cook or get burned because they cooked too quickly. The new stove is AWESOME. It is a double gas oven, self-cleaning, and BLACK. I love black appliances.

5. We also got a new, over-the-range, microwave. It is also black, to match the stove, of course. Now all our kitchen appliances are black! Woohoo!!

6. I ~~have to~~ want to buy myself a new winter coat. My current winter coat is "wearable", but I bought it when I was DATING James and we've been married for nine years. There are a few holes in the lining, too. I think a new winter coat every ten years is a reasonable purchase, right?

7. On that topic, I'm deciding whether to buy a traditional, wool coat that will keep me warm even if the temperature goes down into the teens OR buy something lighter that will keep me warm as long as it's above freezing. Here in Hampton Roads, it's pretty rare that it gets REALLY cold and most of my time is spent indoors or in the car. So, I'm leaning towards the latter, especially because that sort of coat will be cheaper. And I can always keep my old coat in case we do get Arctic temperatures.

There you go! Happy Sunday afternoon!

And Then the Fun Began: The First 72 Hours

2010-11-03T22:07:00.000-04:00

Our hospital stay with Greg was phenomenal. The staff practically anticipated my every want and willingly took Greg back to the nursery at night in between feedings, ensuring that I would get some sleep. The second night, James slept at home so that at least one of us would be well-rested. While we were happy to be able to take our baby boy home on Thursday afternoon, it wasn't like we were absolutely DYING to leave.

So, we went home (after stopping by the Lactation Store to rent a breast pump, because His Lordship was having latching issues), Greg and I went to sleep, and James went to pick up Simon from the kennel. We ordered Chinese for dinner, and everything seemed wonderful as we gazed at our sleeping son. Susanna was still at my parents house, because my mother had wisely suggested that we have at least one night alone with Greg before picking her up. That was a good idea.

As last as 10pm on Thursday night, James and I felt so good that we were actually considering going to a birthday party on Saturday (for the son of our good friends; he was turning one). That feeling didn't last long. That night was...night with a newborn. Greg is a noisy sleeper, so he kept waking us up (even after we transferred him to the crib in his room). Then, he would do the typical newborn thing and wake up every two or three hours to eat. Nursing was still a challenge, and I was pumping after every feeding to build my milk supply. By morning, all three of us were exhausted. And Greg hadn't done #1 or #2 since his circumcision early Thursday morning.

Our plan for that day was sleep as much as possible in between feed ings. The first wrinkle occurred when the pediatrician's office called around 10:30 am to check on things. They were concerned that Greg had only peed once in 24 hours, so they asked us to come in that afternoon at 1pm. No problem; that gave us time for naps, showers, and lunch. The nap got tossed to the side when they called back twenty minutes later and asked us to stop by the hospital first to get Greg's bilirubin and electrolyte levels checked. Since the hospital is on the other side of town from the pedi's office, that meant we had to leave the hospital by 12:40, which meant we really needed to get there by noon to get everything done, which meant we had to leave the house by 11:40. It was almost 11am. Neither of us, of course, were dressed. James and I quickly took showers, packed the diaper bag, and I pumped as quickly as possible. Neither of us had lunch, because we didn't have time.

The hospital was a ridiculous experience, from the lack of parking spaces (it took James 15 minutes to find one, on the other side of creation), to the staff members who continually asked me, "is he (Greg) here as a patient? Because you know children aren't allowed..." to the receptionist who didn't understand why I didn't have written orders and to the waiting for the actual tests. I bought myself and James some fruit and bottled waters from a cart in the lobby.

We pulled into the pedi's office on two wheels at about 1:15. Greg was crying for many reasons (hunger, his foot had been pricked, and because he was a newborn) and James and I were about to kill each other (not for anything the other had done, just from exhaustion and hunger). There was good news and bad news. The good news was that Greg's bilirubin levels were not high enough to warrant treatment (meaning returning to the hospital). The bad news was that he had lost a total of 12 oz since birth AND was showing early signs of dehydration. The electrolyte results hadn't come in yet, but the doctor didn't think those would be a problem. But basically, our mission for the next 48-72 hours was to get as much food into the kid as possible. The doc outlined a few "what-if" scenarios and what to do (having the on-call doc paged to taking him to the emergency room) that sort of scared me. They ordered me to supplement after nursing either with my own milk and/or formula. We set another appointment for Monday. Mom volunteered to keep Susanna one more night, and I willingly accepted. I missed her, but I was just. so. tired. and overwhelmed.

We got home around 2:30 or so, ate lunch, and I began the nurse/pump/syringe feed ritual. We got Greg down for a nap, James went to sleep, and I was just about to go to sleep myself when...my phone rang. It was the doctor's office. Apparently the morons at the hospital hadn't drawn enough blood to test Greg's electrolytes, so the test had to be done again. I flatly refused to go back to the hospital and asked where else we could go to get the test done. The nurse conferred with someone and said, "oh, you can get it done at the lab at our main office" which is closer than the hospital and has a MUCH LARGER PARKING LOT. Plus, there's less red tape there. Why couldn't we have gone there first? Don't ask.

So, off to the lab we went, where Greg got his heel stuck for a second time. By the time we arrived home, my mother-in-law had arrived at the house. Now I love my MIL dearly and normally am happy to see her. However, I think Jesus could have been waiting in my driveway and my reception would have been lukewarm (probably not, but you get my point). I just wanted to sleep. Screw dinner, screw being a good hostess, I just wanted to sleep and maybe cry a little bit (because I was less than 60 hours postpartum, after all). I hugged Nina, looked at the presents she had brought, thanked her (I think I did, anyway), pumped, threw Greg at them, and went to sleep. A few hours later I woke up and there was a message on my phone from the doctor. Greg's electrolyte levels were normal, thank the Lord.

Friday night was exhausting. Thankfully my milk had come in that morning, so I was able to supplement with my own pumped milk and avoid formula (not that it would have been horrible if I had to use formula, but I preferred to give him my own milk if I could). I was trying to avoid nipple confusion, so I'd nurse him, pump, and then give him about 1 oz of pumped milk via syringe/finger. This was lengthy, exhausting, and had limited success, because half of the milk wound up on Greg and myself rather than in his stomach, where it needed to be. After several rounds of this, I had had enough. I broke out the box of three Medela bottles and nipples that I had bought and began giving Greg the extra milk in bottles. I decided that I'd rather deal with nipple confusion than have Greg under special lights or hooked up to an IV.

So, that's how the next 48 hours went. Thankfully, my milk supply kept increasing, and I was able to begin saving milk in the fridge and even freezing it. Because he was eating more, Greg began (cough) producing lovely diapers. When we saw the doctor on Monday, he had gained five ounces, and the doctor told us we could stop supplementing. At his two week checkup, he was almost at his birth weight. By six weeks, he was a full pound above his birth weight.

We picked up Susanna on Saturday morning and she ignored Greg for the first 24 hours or so. However, Sunday night she suddenly starting paying attention to him and talking to him. It was precious. For the first three or so months of Greg's life, she referred to him as "day-day", which I guess meant "baby" in Susanna speech. Now she calls him "Greg" or "Greggie" and she tells me that he's her best friend.

As "rough" as those first 72 hours were (I put that in quotation marks because it's not like Greg was ever in real danger), I was immensely thankful that for a vigilant pediatric practice, excellent lactation support, and parents who live less than 20 miles away. I think James said it best on his Face*book page the day after Greg's birth: "Having a baby in Chesapeake is way cooler than having one in Danville." Amen.

Greg's Birth Story: It Hurt, I Got an Epidural, and He Arrived

2010-11-02T19:45:00.000-04:00

When I first found out that my labor with Greg would be induced, I had a few reservations/concerns. My biggest concern was that I knew that induction at 38 weeks (especially with the possibility of a big baby and the certainty of excess fluid) raised the chance of a C-section, especially an emergency C-section. I really really really did not want a C-section, what with it being major surgery, having a longer recovery time, a scar, and THE PAIN after the epidural wore off. Of course, I'd rather have all of the above and a healthy baby and healthy Patti than the alternative. I was just afraid that the doc might get "scalpel happy" and push for a C-section when it wasn't necessary.

Having those concerns (and also being much more proactive and vocal in this pregnancy than my previous one), I expressed them to my doctor (there were four OBs in the practice, but I knew which one would be doing the induction) and tried to make it clear that unless there was a very real danger for Greg or myself, I wanted to avoid a C-section. Thankfully, he understood my concerns and assured me that the route we were taking (inducing two weeks early b/c of the extra fluid and potential large baby) had the best chance of avoiding a C-section. It also helped that the day before my induction, I was already two centimeters dilated and partially effaced.

The night before the induction, we took Susanna to dinner at Moe's and then dropped her off at my parents house. It was Monday night, and I knew I wouldn't see her until Thursday night at the earliest (she couldn't come to the hospital to see Greg because all area hospitals had banned visitors under 18 because of H1N1). I felt sort of sad, but knew she was in good hands. James and I went home, did some final preparations, and went to bed.

The next morning we woke up around 5am, took showers, loaded everything in the car, and called L&D at exactly 6:30. They told us to come on in. The hospital is very close to our house, so we were checked in and settled in a room by 7:15 or so. Dr. H came in (along with a male medical student) to break my water, but it occurred to me that I should use the facilities first, because I wouldn't be able to leave the bed once my water was broken. He said he'd come back later. I took care of business and the nurse began my IV. They actually had to call in an anesthesiologist to finish the job, even with three nurses trying to get the best vein. Finally, I was hooked up to the Pitocin. Around 8am, Dr. H came back in and broke my water. THAT was incredible...sort of like the Hoover Dam bursting. Apparently Greg had been swimming in an Olympic-size swimming pool. Even more fluid came out once the contractions started. Dr. H said that I could get an epidural anytime, but I wanted to actually "feel" a few contractions before getting my pain relief.

By 9am I was feeling uncomfortable contractions, maybe 3-4 on a scale of 10. By 10:15 they were more in the 5-6 area, so I requested the epidural. By 11am, when I had the epidural (there were two anesthesiologists in-house, and one was in surgery and the other giving someone else an epidural), my pain level was closer to 7 and I felt immense relief within a few minutes. One major difference I noticed between "natural" labor (like I had with Susanna) and "Pitocin" labor was that the latter had very severe contractions, so by the time I received the epidural they seemed almost never-ending, even though I had only been "in labor" for a little over three hours. With Susanna, it had taken 12+ hours for the pain to get this severe.

By the time I received my epidural at 11-ish, I was 5 or 6 centimeters dilated. By 12pm, I was up to 8cm dilated. I was, incidentally, also on oxygen because Greg's heart rate kept dipping. They kept me on oxygen until I delivered. I was also laying on my side to help with everything. I did express my concerns to my nurse (who was awesome, by the way) because I was worried for Greg but also worried that I was on the fast track to an emergency C-section. She reassured me that everything was fine, they were just taking extra precautions.

During all this time, James and I basically hung out. He went down to the cafeteria at one point to get breakfast, but the rest of the time we just chatted, played on our iPhones (I even posted on Face*book!), and James read a book. I had expected labor to be quicker this time around since it was induced, but figured that I'd probably be in labor most of the day and hopefully have Greg before dinnertime. Things progressed a lot quicker than I thought they would. By noon, I was over 8 cm dilated and the nurse let the doctor know "not to go anywhere." By 1pm, I was pretty much fully dilated and we were just waiting for Dr. H and his med student to arrive. It took longer than anyone thought, so they didn't come into the room until about 1:40. They set the room up for delivery and I remember the med student (a male by the name of Vu) holding my left leg up so I could push. Greg came into this world at 2:06pm, smaller than we expected and absolutely perfect.

I don't remember a lot of details about the actual labor, but the delivery I remember very well, simply because it was so wonderful compared to Susanna's birth. When I gave birth to Susanna, they detected meconium in the amniotic fluid and the cord was around her neck. As a result, the OB cut the cord and whisked Susanna over to the isolette to work on her. I don't think she was ever in any real danger, but she was surrounded by nurses for the first 30 or so minutes of her life. Once she was "done", they handed her to James, because my OB was repairing my third degree tear and having a fun time of it, apparently. So I didn't get to hold Susanna until she was almost an hour old.

Within 30 seconds of Greg's birth, the nurse had placed him (still attached to the umbilical cord, still covered in vernix) on my tummy so James and I could meet him. It was an incredible feeling. Dr. H let James cut the umbilical cord, and we spent a few minutes with Greg before the nurses took him over to the isolette to be cleaned up and weighed. Dr. H sewed me up very quickly (apparently Greg did significantly LESS damage to my nether regions than Susanna) and then he and Vu left the room.

I should mention that at the final four visits of my pregnancy, Dr. H said pretty much the same thing, "How big was your first baby? 7 lbs 10 oz? This one's going to be bigger." Then, right before delivery, he told everyone that we were looking at "a big baby". Imagine my surprise when Greg weighed in at a mere 6 lbs 15 oz and was a full inch shorter than Susanna. Alas, I did not get to rib Dr. H about this until my six week checkup, because he and Vu had already left when Greg was weighed.

We spent almost two hours in the room after delivery, because (as I learned later) several other women had delivered at the same time I had, so there was a delay getting us all to rooms. James and I called our parents, sent out e-mail birth announcements and posted stuff on Facebook. And of course we adored our little boy, but he eventually went upstairs to be bathed and examined. By 4:30pm we were in a room on the Mother-Baby unit and I was chowing down on the "post-delivery box lunch" they apparently give all new mothers. I guess you burn a lot of calories pushing a baby out of your body, because I was starving again an hour later, and demolished my dinner when it arrived.

Initially, we had planned for James to spend both nights at home so that he could get some sleep. However, I had forgotten how sore and stiff I'd be after delivery and since I didn't know how competent and attentive the nurses would be (I needn't have worried and could have sent James home: the Mother-Baby nurses at CGH are SIMPLY AMAMZING), I asked James to stay overnight.

We had woken up as a trio, and went to bed that night as a quartet, thanking God for His goodness and grace.

Hospice medical care for dying patients: newyorker.com

2010-11-01T03:22:00.000-04:00

Read this. Reflect on it. Yes, it's long. Get over it. In a few days I am going to write a blog post about this topic.

Hospice medical care for dying patients: newyorker.com

The Decision God Made For Us

2010-10-28T15:11:00.000-04:00

Greg was a complete and total surprise.

We were somewhat open to the idea of a second child, and had discussed it. But, our discussions sort of had the same tone as when we discuss replacing the flooring downstairs...someday, but not right now. I figured it would be six months to a year before we were going to being "trying", if we began trying at all. Meanwhile, I was on birth control and since I took it faithfully, I figured we were "safe". I was wrong.

There were several reasons we were still in the "one child or two children?" discussion phase. First, James was an only child, had loved it, and said he'd be happy with just one child. Second (and the biggest reason for me), my brother has a rare genetic disorder and I do not know if I am a carrier for it. It's a recessive gene, so both James and myself would have to be carriers in order to have a chance of passing it on to our children. Even then, I think there's only a 25% chance of one of our children having SSADH (the specific condition my brother has). I've never been tested because insurance won't cover it and it would cost us upwards of $3K to get tested.

Anyway, I just didn't know if I wanted to "gamble" on having a kid with SSADH. As much as I love Bart and as much of a blessing and joy he is, I have seen what a strain a child with special needs can place on a family. And I know how hard it can be for the typically-developing sibling of a child with special needs. Neither James nor I believe in abortion, so even though a prenatal diagnosis is possible, we would certainly NOT terminate a pregnancy. So in our minds, we only had two options: have a second child and take the risks of him/her having SSADH or stick with one child.

Well, in the midst of all this discussion, God decided to intervene somehow and Greg was conceived. We found out on Father's Day 2009. He's healthy, happy, and a wonderful addition to our family. I think he's the best surprise I've ever received.

Yes, having two children is stressful sometimes (I am in awe of my friends who have 3, 4, 5, or even more children!), and the first few months of Greg's life were very tough (what with the newborn, the toddler, and the mother with breast cancer. Oh, and let's not forget the (milder this time, but still present) postpartum depression. I don't think that James and I do very well with the newborn period. However, watching how Susanna loves her little brother, and seeing how she can elicit such a joyful smile from Greg, makes it all worth it. There will certainly be sibling rivalry later on, and they will fight and all that stuff. But I hope, and I believe, that as they grow up and move into adulthood, that Susanna and Greg will be friends. I dream of them being in each other's weddings, spoiling each other's children, and their children (our grandchildren) becoming friends and playing together. In other words, I hope that their relationship will contain some of the elements missing from my relationship with Bart.

I've found that what everyone says is true; every child is different, and so is your relationship with them. I think Greg is much attached to me than Susanna was at this point (it's not that she wasn't attached, but she rarely cried when we left her anyplace, and Greg does.) and he has this way of giving me adoring smiles that convey that he thinks that I'm the best thing since sliced bread. I look forward to seeing his personality develop. He is very much like his sister in that he loves to smile and laugh, and also enjoys being around people. And the physical resemblance...my gosh! I need to post some "comparison" photos for you. It's crazy how much he looks like Susanna as a baby.

Thanks God, for going ahead and making the "one child or two children" decision for us. Best. thing. ever.

I'm Not in Kansas Anymore and I Don't Want to Go Back!

2010-10-27T21:12:00.005-04:00

Since August 2009, I have been employed by Bon Secours Hampton Roads, which is part of the Bon Secours International health system. It was founded by Catholic nuns (the sisters of Bon Secours) and has kept the life and teachings of Jesus Christ as part of its mission for 100+ years.

When I began working for BSHR, I had to attend a new employee orientation, which lasted all day. By and large, hospital orientations for new employees are extremely similar, and Bon Secours was no exception. However, there were a few key distinctions at this one that quite pleased me. First, nearly everyone who presented material highlighted the mission of Bon Secours and its status as a faith-based organization. Second, BSHR actually has an administrator whose main role is Mission. She's the one all the Spiritual Care departments answer to, and although I've only met her that one time, I was quite impressed. Third, we (meaning all employees, not just the chaplains) are not just permitted, but encouraged to PRAY with patients if they ask us and/or seem amenable to it. Wow. There are prayers said over the PA system twice a day, and at DePaul we even announce the newest babies each day (first and middle names only, never last names).

Once I began actually working, I noticed other differences. The Spiritual Care departments are much better staffed than at most secular hospitals. Both Maryview and DePaul have at least one chaplain (usually two during the week) in-house seven days a week, 365 days of year. Both hospitals have on-call coverage 24/7, and Maryview has (due to the resurrection of its CPE program) resumed offering 24/7 in-house coverage Monday through Friday. With that sort of staff, every patient is visited (or at least we attempt to visit them) at least once during their stay. We visit patients in critical situations more, of course, and are always available via the pager system for emergencies and other requests.

Next, the hospital staff, especially the doctors, nurses, CNA's, and other staff who directly care for patients, clearly value the chaplains and see us as a key part of the "team." That is not always the case at secular hospitals. I've also been impressed by the way the staff cares for patients and families when we're delayed or (rarely) not available. One time I arrived at the bedside of a recently deceased patient only to find that the family had already left (I guess they had been present when the patient died, and didn't feel like waiting for me to drive half an hour from Chesapeake). The staff on the unit assured me that the family had been "fine", and told me what they (the staff) had done to comfort them; prayer, listening to stories, offering support, etc. Basically, lots of what I would have done for that family. It was nice knowing that others had stepped up to the plate when the chaplain wasn't present.

I will also say that I believe that patient care is superior here than at many secular hospitals in the area. True, the facilities at other hospitals may occasionally be nicer, but if I had to choose between competent staff who exuded caring and a really fancy facility, I'd pick the latter in a heartbeat.

Mammas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Pastors

2010-10-25T17:20:00.001-04:00

The Danville Years: My Own September 11 Experience

2010-10-24T22:44:00.011-04:00

For two and a half years, I have struggled with how to adequately and succinctly describe my time at Saint John's, and how to respond when someone says, "was the local church tough for you?" Until recently, I couldn't really think of an appropriate description without giving a 30 minute blow-by-blow account of everything that happened, or simply saying "yes", which usually leads people to believe that it was all my responsibility and I'm "just not pastor material", which I don't think is true. So, "tough" is not adequate for describing my time in Danville. Heart-wrenching, yes. Traumatizing, yes. Devastating, yes.

However, a few weeks ago, I thought of a good analogy that is brief yet infinitely more accurate than "tough." So here is what I can (and may) say in the future, when someone asks me about my experience in Danville:

"To say that my experience in that particular setting was 'tough' would be like saying that September 11, 2001 was an 'unfortunate event' for the United States of America." In other words, my two years in Danville (particularly the final six months) were to my professional and persona lives what September 11 was to this nation: absolutely devastating, life-changing, and innocence-shattering.

Before anyone gets extremely offended by what I just said, please understand that I don't mean any disrespect to those who died as a result of 9-11, who lost family members in that tragedy, nor am I trying to make light of that horrible day. I am merely trying to use it as a comparison to my own experience, because I think it is an accurate comparison to the impact Danville had on my life and my family. I ran it by James almost as soon as I thought of it, and he (who walked with me, supported, defended, and loved me through the whole experience, and was also wounded himself) totally agreed.

Here are some of the similarities I've thought of:

The 9-11 attacks totally blindsided the US; their success was a result of our defenses being down and us not expecting (and not being prepared for) anything of that scale. I had no clue what was going on "behind the scenes" at Saint John's because I was inexperienced and (for the first year at least) they put on a very good front.
The 9-11 attacks also shattered our innocence (whatever innocence a 225 year old nation has), damaged our ability to trust others, and left us feeling rather bruised, battered, and grief-stricken. By the time I left St. John's in May 2008, I felt so bruised and battered that it took me ten months of reflection and sharing with my CPE colleagues and supervisor before I had reached the place where I could forgive certain church members, the congregation as a whole, and even myself for what happened.
In the aftermath of 9-11, we felt that other nations were not supporting us. Remember how we appealed to various "allies" for help in tracking down Al-Qaeda (sp?) and many of them turned us down? Remember the story about "freedom fries" instead of "French Fries" in Capitol Hill cafeterias? While I did have several clergy colleagues who reached out to me during my experience and after I left, I felt abandoned by the Annual Conference. My marriage was suffering, my self-confidence was at an all-time low, I was seriously questioning my calling to ordained ministry, and I was constantly beating myself up over what happened, but all I sensed from the Annual Conference was...recrimination, for lack of a better term.
While we may have healed from 9-11, we are forever changed and things will never be the same. I don't think this is necessarily all bad, but it's a shame that we have to go to these lengths to protect ourselves. Think of how air travel has changed...I feel like I have mostly processed through things and have experienced healing. However, if I ever return to the local church as a pastor, I will take certain measures to protect myself and my family so we're not so vulnerable again, and so I'm more aware of potential "bombs."
Although it's possible that September 11 might have been less catastrophic with a little more diligence on the part of the U.S. (some of the things we do now, for example), it was by no means "our fault." Likewise, I've come to realize that accept that while I certainly hold some responsibility for the whole Saint John's debacle, there were many aspects that were out of my control and/or a result of pure circumstance (inexperience, being naive, losing my father-in-law, having a baby, being in a long-distance marriage, have postpartum depression, and my dog dying, among others).

I could go on and on, but hopefully you get the gist. I haven't talked much about St. John's since I left, but I may write the occasional post about what happened and how I've grown/processed since then. I confess that I still have some anger/frustration towards certain groups and individuals who I feel "dropped the ball" at one time or another. I've forgiven, but I'm still struggling with "letting it go."

Part 2 or The Part Where I Share My Feelings

2010-10-23T18:10:00.000-04:00

If you know my mom at all, you know that she did not simply tell me, "I have breast cancer. I'm having an MRI tomorrow and major surgery right around your due date, bye!" Of course not, because my mom is much more...maternal and selfless than that. After giving me some details and answering some of my questions, we spent at least fifteen minutes discussing something else, namely how the heck James and I would handle the whole childbirth, hospital, and first few days at home since our plan had now been shredded to smithereens.

I have no doubt that Mom was upset/worried about the deadly disease coursing through her body, and that her birthday had been RUINED (she had just heard from the oncologist that morning). However, outwardly she seemed much more concerned about how we were going to cope and about brainstorming ideas, most of which involved calling James' mom as soon as I knew this was "it" and hiring someone else to stay with Susanna until James' mom arrived here (she lives 4-5 hours away). We also discussed me pleading with my OB to induce a week early.

We ended the conversation not really resolving anything, but agreed that we had plenty of time AND I kept reminding her that LOTS of people give birth without having families nearby to support them. If they could do it, so could we.

So, in my mind, my thoughts for the next few hours sort of went like this (interspersed with crying jags, of course): "My mom has cancer...she's having major surgery right when I'm supposed to have my baby...this isn't fair, I want my Mommy...calm down, Patti, it's just a few weeks, you'll get through it...right, after all, I can get through this...it's just temporary. Gotta think of the long-term, put everything in perspective...Stop being so selfish...After all, she's the one with cancer and facing major surgery...HOLY CRAP! My mommy has cancer! People die from cancer! She might die! I can handle her not being around for a few weeks, but what if she DIES? MY MOM CAN'T DIE! (Ignoring the fact that I have a husband and numerous friends who have already lost a parent) My children have to know her! Deep breaths...calm down...this is breast cancer which has a much lower mortality rate than say, pancreatic cancer. Mom had a clean mammogram in August, this was probably caught early. She'll have the surgery, maybe chemo and radiation, and chances are that by this fall, it will all be over. Right. Be positive." What also helped (and continues to help) is the knowledge that Mom is no weak sister. She is a fighter, a survivor, and if breast cancer does kill her eventually, it will not be without her fighting it with all she has in her.

By the time James got home several hours later, I was mostly in control of myself. The next day, we found out that Greg would be coming two weeks early, anyway, so that issue was resolved, and Mom's exclamation of "God is good!" when I told her that news was priceless.

So, the spring was kind of sucky (most of all for Mom, since she was the patient) because it was (in my eyes, anyway) a roller coaster of good news, bad news, and the accompanying emotions. Mom has the rarest, most aggressive kind of breast cancer possible. It's actually highly irregular for a Caucasian woman in her 60s to get this type. But Mom's always been an achiever, and our family tends to be "health care trendsetters", anyway. She had four surgeries in three months (I'm going to respect her privacy and leave out the details) and began chemo in June. She's responding well to the chemo, and is part of a clinical trial for a promising new chemo drug. Things aren't the same as they were a year ago, but I'm adjusting to the "new normal" and thankful that between God's grace and healing, the miracle of modern medicine (and the gifts of her oncologist), and Mom's own strength and determination, there is s a very, very strong possibility that Mom will be around long enough to see my children grow up and most importantly, for them to know her, make memories with her, and remember her when she does die, whenever that may be.

I will probably continue to write about this from time to time. Keep in mind that I'm writing from MY perspective, so I'm not speaking for my mother (I can't do that, since I'm not her). My posts will likely be about my thoughts, feeling, and experiences, and will have very little actual details about Mom. If you want details, ask my mom. Ditto for wanting to know her perspective on things. I'm not planning on giving any blow-by-blow accounts of her condition without her express permission.

Of course, Mom covets your prayers, as does the rest of my family. Prayers are always welcome.

So what if my day was ruined? It was her BIRTHDAY (Part 1)

2010-10-23T00:01:00.004-04:00

It was January 27, 2010. My mother's birthday. I was 36 weeks pregnant with Greg, and had a hankering for Taco Bell. So, I loaded Susanna into the car and drove through Taco Bell to get a double decker taco with guacamole and no tomatoes. I was pulling out of the drive-thru when my phone rang. I saw from the Caller ID that it was my mom. I answered, wished her Happy Birthday, and she asked if I was home. I said no, that Susanna and I were out and about. She asked me to call her when I got home. I agreed, and we hung up.

Immediately, my brain went into overdrive. My mom and I frequently talk on the phone while in the car, so her wanting to wait to talk until I got home meant that SOMETHING WAS UP. I latched onto the real possibility that she had bad news to tell me, and spent the next fifteen minutes (as I drove home and then put Susanna down for a nap) wondering what was wrong. Obviously not an emergency involving her, my dad, or my brother. If that had been the case, she would have told me immediately so I could head right to...wherever. My dad would probably be the one of call me if it involved him. Was something going on with Bart (my brother)? One of my aunts or uncles or cousins? A close family friend? I didn't really think about the possibility that what my mother had to share involved HERSELF. After all, she was in great health, exercised, ate well, and looked and acted like someone 10-15 years younger than her true age. I had no doubt that she would live well into her 90s and be around to watch my children grow up, maybe even be able to see Susanna and Greg get married to their respective spouses and meet her future great-grandchildren.

Within five minutes of calling my mom back, those expectations were suddenly and excruciatingly colored with doubt. Mom told me that she had breast cancer and was scheduled for an MRI the next day and a mastectomy on February 25, which just happened to be the day after my due date.

Once we hung up, I spent the next hour sobbing uncontrollably, and even once I calmed myself down, I cried on and off for the rest of the afternoon.

(To Be Continued)

Seven Quick Takes Friday, Long Overdue Edition

2010-10-22T06:00:00.002-04:00

1. Hi out there (waves and smiles guiltily)! OK, so it's been a while since I've posted. Probably all of my readers have stopped checking the blog and given up on me. But I'm back! And I have at least three future posts brewing! And maybe more! So, there. Come back, blog readers, come back!

2. Part of the reason that I haven't posted in so long is that I now have two children. And as those of you with two (or more) children know, 1+1 DOES NOT = 2. No, it's more like one plus one equals 20, or something like that. I had no clue how EASY my life was with only one child. Just like I had no clue how easy my life was before I had children.

3. In case you're curious, we are DONE with the procreation thing. I love Greg and Susanna, thank God for them every day, and am so delighted that we had two children. However, James and I mutually decided that for us, two children was enough. And that decision was made final in June at a urologist's office in Virginia Beach. (:

4. My children are very similar in some ways, but very different in others. They clearly resemble each other, are both somewhat stubborn, and have excellent appetites. But there are plenty of differences...An example is the sleep issue. Susanna was sleeping eight hours at night by the time she was six weeks old (don't hate me, please). I did not expect Greg to do THAT, because it's pretty rare. He did show promise, though; he was sleeping ten-hour stretches at three months. However, that screeched to a halt at the four-month mark, when he decided that it was way cooler to sleep for only two or three hours at a time. He's gotten better since then (we regularly get at least a 5-7 hour stretch each night), but I spent most of the summer in an exhausted haze, chugging Coke like it was water and craving sleep like an addict craves their next fix. It's a good thing he's cute and smiles adoringly at me several times a day. He's a happy baby, although his first few months were tough due to infant reflux. He still takes medicine for it, but it seems to be much more controlled now.

5. Besides the two children thing, this winter/spring/summer has been somewhat emotionally stressful for me and my family because someone I love dearly was diagnosed with a MAJOR HEALTH ISSUE in January. Two weeks before Greg's birth, as a matter of fact. I'll talk about that later, in much more detail. Don't worry; no one is dying (as far as we know).

6. I'm still doing my very very part-time chaplain gig for Bon Secours Hampton Roads. I love the work, I love the chaplains in both Spiritual Care departments (I work at two hospitals), and I love the hospitals themselves. The facilities are not nearly as nice as those at Riverside, but I've found that the staff is friendlier, more caring, and generally has a much higher view of chaplains than at Riverside. I'm seriously considering staying in the chaplaincy field and not going back to the local church. Problem is, the job market for chaplains is kinda tight, especially if you want to stay in one geographical area (which I do).

7. Susanna turned three at the end of August and started preschool a week later. She's attending a preschool run by our church, and we've been very pleased so far (and she loves it, which is also important). She is talking a blue streak and it seems like her vocabulary doubles every day. She is still not potty trained, but we're working on it and know that it will happen someday, and hopefully that someday will be soon! My parents say that she is the "spitting image" of me when I was her age. Susanna is, however, much much taller than I was. She has never gone below the 75th percentile for height, and at her three-year checkup was 39.5" tall and 36 lbs (both 90th percentile). She wears size 4 clothing easily and we're probably going to have to convert her bed from the toddler bed to the full-size bed (she has one of those convertible cribs that is currently in the "toddler bed" mode) within the next year.

And that's all for now, folks! Have a great Friday!

To Make Up For Seven Months of No Posts...PICTURES!

2010-10-21T10:03:00.003-04:00

Greg at seven months old!

Susanna on her first day of preschool!

Susanna riding a tricycle

My two beautiful children!

My second wedding (as an officiant)! Me with Kris (groom) and Laura (bride).