Stay of Execution

So yesterday was the big day: I (finally) had to tell my staff and council that I have been offered another call. I have been dreading this for weeks. Make no mistake: it was a hard and exhausting day. But, all things considered, it went very well.

I started with our newest staff member, the Director of Music. Because he had been hired only four months ago, and came to this congregation under the assumption he would be working with me for - well, longer than this - I thought he deserved to know first. One of the things that consistently amazes and delights me about this guy is his maturity level; he's 22 years old, but you'd think he's at least 30. His first response? "Wow; congratulations!"

(As an aside, I have been so focused on how hard this is that I forgot it is exciting too. My husband has said "congratulations" to me, and so have many family members, but somehow, coming from a colleague, it was different. I think that small moment changed the whole day.)

Next, to tell the rest of the staff. The secretary, the youth & family director, and one of our two visitation pastors. (Another aside: this particular visitation pastor used to be my full-time colleague. Five years ago, at age 45, he was diagnosed with a terminal brain cancer. He had a biopsy and numerous, serious complications as a result. He has great trouble communicating but now works very part-time as a visitation pastor. I could write a whole book about this experience, not to mention many blog entries, but suffice it to say that our relationship is complicated.)

That, too, went fairly well. Everyone was surprised and, while certainly no one was happy - though, again, very gracious to me - they took it well. We talked for about 45 minutes.

Then I waited for six hours to tell the executive board. Let me tell you this: I accomplished absolutely nothing yesterday during that time. Nada. And I had plenty to do. Oh well.

I had called this exec meeting; we don't meet every month unless specifically requested or we feel there is a particular reason for doing so. I had one minor issue to discuss and then I dropped the bomb. It went something like this:

"I need to tell you that I have received a call to another congregation."

Long pause.

Treasurer (a dear man who can be blunt as a rock but who has gone to the wall for me numerous times): "Can we talk you out of it?"

Which broke the ice, and we had a good conversation. They wanted a little more from me than I can really give - names of other pastors I would suggest, whether they can choose their own interim - but it was good.

And the best part, which resulted in the title of this post, is that they decided we ought not to tell the whole council until I have made a decision. In all honesty, that was the part I was dreading the most: first, telling the council; and second, the extremely high likelihood that the news would then find its way into the congregation, no matter how much they promised to keep it quiet. (12 council members, 12 spouses...you do the math.)

I did feel like it was a stay of execution. The ELCA way of doing this is that you are obligated to inform your council when you receive another call, whether or not you intend to accept it (or have decided yet). You only inform the whole congregation when you have made a decision.

What I really worried about was rumor getting out of hand, during an already emotionally charged time of the year. By not telling the council - or, by fulfilling that requirement via the executive board - I think we've minimized the chances of that as much as possible.

I feel good. I admitted to the staff that, as hard as it was to tell them this, it was also something of a relief to tell them the truth. In a post from awhile ago, I used the image of Hester Prynne to describe how I was feeling during the interview stage; I've heard numerous pastors describe the whole thing as the ecclesiastical equivalent of an affair. (We assume these pastors are speaking metaphorically only and with no personal experience, but it's striking to me how often that image comes up. Certainly says something about the depth of attachment we develop to our congregations.)

To tell the whole council was, as I discussed with a blogging friend the other night, like saying to your spouse, "Well, I've been cheating on you for several months but I haven't technically decided if I'm going to leave you. I'll let you know in thirty days."

This is not a good feeling. (And I have no doubt that actually telling your spouse about an affair would be thousands upon thousands of times more difficult than the conversation I had with the board. But there's still truth in how this image conveys betrayal.)

So I can head into Thanksgiving with a reasonably light heart. Now we just need to make a decision. It's almost a foregone conclusion at this point; I have suspicions that both Beloved and I are dancing around the common assumption that we're going, but no one wants to be the first to say it.

I knew that five very specific people were praying for me as I headed into that exec meeting, and I can't tell you how meaningful that was. To the five, my gratitude.

Also, I got my hair cut and colored today. Now I feel sassy. Sadly, no camera to prove the sassiness. But it's real: trust me.