thanks, WomenSpirit!

Like many clergywomen, I have wardrobe issues.

Not wardrobe malfunction issues, a la Janet Jackson (save us all from that, good Lord), but wardrobe issues. More specifically, clergy shirt issues.

Until recently, most clergy shirts for women trespassed on one of the following shirt-specific sins:
1. They have puffed sleeves (unless you are Anne of Green Gables, and aged about twelve, this is not a good look).
2. They are some shade of pastel, in the manner of Easter eggs.
3. They have darts to give them "shape" (which does not work).
4. Did I mention the puffed sleeves? And the pastels? They're worth a second offense.

I have a few really nice clergy shirts, most of which came from WomenSpirit, a company which makes a number of reasonably attractive clergy shirts in non-pastel colors, without puffed sleeves, and dart-free. They're not cheap, but then again, the pink-puffy shirts aren't cheap either.

The very ingenious writer of Collar This! has chronicled her attempts to transform regular shirts into clergy-collar shirts, and while I admire her very much, that is the sort of transfiguration I think I should leave to the professionals. I only wear clergy shirts on Sundays, or to weddings or funerals, so it's not like I need a ton of these things. But, since I got into this gig nearly ten years ago, I have coveted one particular shirt - or, to be accurate, one specific color. I want a red clergy shirt.

This might be traced to my group of wonderful seminary friends and our love for liturgically-appropriate underwear. (Color, I mean. I'm not sure how else you could make your underwear liturgical. Many bad thoughts in head now. Moving on.) A few of us bought red lacy undergarments for seminary graduation, which happened to be on Pentecost, as a randomly fun inside (no kidding) joke. And since then, I've really wanted a red clergy shirt to wear on Reformation and Pentecost Sundays. But no one makes them. Only pink. And light blue. And maybe grey, or seafoam green, or yellow. But no red.

And then, a few weeks ago, I found this shirt at WomenSpirit. (That's not me in the picture, but isn't her hair great? If I can go grey like that, sign me up.) Unfortunately, however, it only came in the long-sleeved version. And, while I've bought a few long-sleeved clergy shirts over the years in great colors, what I've learned the hard way is that they're usually just too warm. Add the robe and the stole and 500 people in worship, and it's too much. Even in the winter.

So, I wrote to the good people at WomenSpirit and asked if they would make the red shirt in short sleeves. And yesterday, I received my beautiful garnet red, short-sleeved, non-pastel, puff-and-dart-free clergy shirt. Thanks, WomenSpirit! You rock.

Sometimes you have to find joy in the little things.

well THAT can't be good

So, what does it mean when you have a really big day ahead of you and you wake up with the theme to Titanic running through your head?

Doesn't seem good. I haven't seen that movie in years. Where on earth did that come from?


*Update: apparently it means nothing. The day was great. I have no musically-inclined psychic abilities. Good to know.

off

I'm having an "off" day. The kind of day where nothing specific is wrong, nothing is terrible, there's no crisis, there's no tragedy - and yet you just feel...off. Off-balance, maybe, or off-focus, or just off.

I had a frustrating session last night with the 9th graders in confirmation: I don't think they would have talked if I had paid them. Silence and sullen looks are not my favorite way to spend an evening. I had another encounter during that session with Mr. Acolyte Boot Camp, who seemed intent on undermining my attempts at group conversation. I really dislike the feeling of disliking a kid. I decided last night that I need to pray for him and for myself, because I'm not quite sure what to do with this one.

And today my colleague, Senior Pastor, whom I like very much, was in the office on his day off - again. I think he's here almost every one of his days off, if only for a few minutes. It irritates me. I think it sets up an expectation that the pastor will be here every day, and frankly, that's a pattern I just don't buy into. I think I'll need to talk with him about it next week and just voice my own concerns about what "day off" really means (to me, anyway - he can do as he chooses). And then a woman who is involved with almost every group at church - the kind of person you run into a lot in congregations, who needs to be needed in a profound way - responded with a snippy retort when she asked me where Senior Pastor was, and I said, "well, it's his day off," and she said, snorting, "well, I KNOW it's his day off, but he's HERE." "I haven't seen him," I said. "Well, he's here," and huffed off.

Off. One of those days where I just want to crawl back in bed and start over. There are days in this new call (not so new now, nearly eight months in) where I feel all over again that I'm brand new, and that I don't belong here. That they don't know me. And that they never will. And that I'll never know them. And that we won't find real friends. And that if one more person asks me how many children I have, I will go insane.

I feel unfocused and pointless here today. What am I doing? Writing in an anonymous blog? I have no sermon to finish this week, only one class to prepare. No one's in the hospital. No one is calling. I feel completely and utterly, redundantly useless. I should be glad for the rest, and put it to good use. And instead, I just feel off.

These days come and go. Tomorrow will be better, I'm sure. It's grey and rainy today, which doesn't help. I think I just miss my other life today, the life I had before. That's natural. It gets better. But it's funny how that sort of grief pops up when you're least expecting it.

maybe it's in the water

So apparently Nicole Kidman is gushing to celebrity magazines that she "fell pregnant" after swimming in some magical Australian fertility waters.

This would have been good to know before undergoing a relatively minor but nonetheless not-exactly-painless surgery last week. Hmmm...general anesthesia, or trip to the Outback? Door number two, please.

Part of me says this is a harmless story about a woman who is delighted to be a mother, and who has a relatively unscientific but sweetly innocent theory on her pregnancy.

And another part of me says this is yet another deceitful attempt to hide something which no one needs to be ashamed of, but which seems like something shameful precisely because you are unwilling to acknowledge it. How do all these 41-year old Hollywood moms get pregnant so easily? How is it that they so often have twins? I guess it runs in the family.

I know they have every right to privacy. They don't have to talk about their sex lives, or their fertility, to a magazine any more than I have to reveal that same sort of information to my congregation.

But you know, just for once, I would love to read about a famous woman who tried for years to have kids, went through treatments, was frustrated and sad and scared and tired, and says flat out, "this fucking sucks, and it's not fair, and I have all the money in the world to deal with it, and it still fucking sucks."

Not, "Oh, I went swimming in the magical Australian waters of fertility, and I fell pregnant at age 41. Imagine!"

On the other hand, I wouldn't mind a trip to Australia.

Boot Camp

Last week, we had acolyte training at church. I'm assuming most people are familiar with the basic duties of an acolyte: light the candles, hand the offering plates to the ushers, help with communion - that kind of stuff. We have 4th and 5th graders do this, because they think that being an acolyte is the COOLEST THING EVER (whereas junior high kids sigh with boredom and wish they were dead rather than get up in front of everyone in a dumb white robe).

I was really excited and impressed that one of our junior high kids wanted to help with the training. I don't really know this kid; I know his dad a little bit, and his mom a little less. He's clearly very smart and mature, and I thought the fact that he volunteered to help teach this class was really wonderful. He said he would take the kids through the routine of a Sunday, while I was to give a basic intro and closing, and answer questions.

So. We had ten kids show up. Ten happy, excited, a-little-too-interested-in-the-candlelighter kids who were eager to acolyte and help on Sunday morning.

By the time we were done, we had nine nervous, worried, over-informed, FREAKING OUT graduates of Acolyte Boot Camp (one dropped out as soon as the training was over, nearly crying: "I don't want to do this," he said in a trembling voice). It turns out that Eager Junior High Volunteer would probably thrive in a career as a prosecutor, army general, or IRS agent. Now I am in a rather strange position.

How do you tell a junior high kid that he is not a good fit for helping train acolytes? Because he's not. He made them turn counter-clockwise at the altar (he stopped and made them do it over if they turned the wrong way, and let's face it - kids with digital clocks don't know what the hell "counter-clockwise" is anyway). When one girl asked nervously what she should wear, he answered, "church clothes." "What about shoes?" she asked. "Well, I usually wear church shoes," he said sternly, "do you have church shoes?" "No," she said quietly. "Well, you should probably get some," he retorted, and then moved on to the next question.

The church is full of people with control issues. This we all know. But they usually show up a bit later in life. If you have any helpful tips about how to deal with Mr. Boot Camp, please let me know.

Meanwhile, I'm hoping he's not acolyting this Sunday, because if I turn the wrong way, I'm pretty sure I might get hit on the head with a candlelighter.

random notes from a week

• Yesterday I started producing my very first Powerpoint (which should come with a little person who jumps out of your computer and answers your every question, of which there are MANY). I find to be very true what a friend of mine says: "Power corrupts; and PowerPoint corrupts absolutely." That thing is a black hole of time. But I'm having fun.
• I met with my doctor today for one last appointment before minor surgery next week (an outpatient deal I am thinking of as Baby Promoting Procedure). I'm not worried about it, but it will be nice to have it over with. Also, and happily, it will end the Summer of Birth Control, which is also known as Very Bizarre Experience for Someone Trying to Get Pregnant.
  
• Every year I think early September cannot possibly get more busy than this year. And every year I am wrong. And also tired.
• In yesterday's mail I found an advertisement from a local fundagelical church promoting its latest adult forum series: three classes entitled, in this order, "Porn and Pancakes," "Porn and Pastries," and "Porn and Parents." (These are also helpfully filed on their website under "XXX Church Events.") I'm all over churches talking about difficult, complicated issues. But this is just a little over the creepy line for me.
• It's amazing how a few days of solid, reliable sunshine really makes you feel good.
• Right now I have three baby sweaters to be knitting. I need to find a new pattern.
• If you are someone frustrated by the choice of Sarah Palin (even if you are, like me, someone who was never going to vote for McCain in the first place), you should most definitely read Anna Quindlen's take on the choice in this week's issue of Newsweek. I've read some good articles about Palin, but this one says it best. Well done, Anna.
  

Back to the PowerPoint. And the sermon, at some point.

I 'heart' Jon Stewart

Tomorrow I will do a better job of rising above petty politics and trying to improve the civility of substantial discussion among us.

But today, I will enjoy Jon Stewart. Sigh.

i'm just a girl in the world

For the sake of total honesty here, I did not watch Sarah Palin's speech last night. (In all fairness, I didn't watch Biden's speech either. I've never been a big fan of political conventions - they strike me as really, really long infomercials.) From what I've read, she's probably a very effective speaker. And her speech seems to have been long on criticism of the other guys, and a bit short on creative ideas of her own. Then again, the VP speech can get away with a lot of that, so she probably doesn't deserve particular criticism for that approach.

I'm irritated for her that last night's national news broadcast included a piece entitled, "Can a Mom of 5 be the Vice-President?" It might be a decent question, if anyone was asking whether a Dad of 2 could be President. And I'll admit that Palin has made some parental decisions which bother me a bit. It doesn't bother me that she twice went back to work the day after having a child; some women don't have the luxury of childcare or the money to take a leave. It does bother me that she seems to be bragging about it, as if that were an ideal situation (I'd hope that any new dad would take a little time off too). It certainly doesn't bother me that she has five children, or that her youngest has Down's syndrome - though it does bother me that she apparently spent a fair amount of her speech introducing her family, which strikes me as filler material for someone who doesn't have much substance. One of our local candidates for governor routinely pastes his family's picture all over his campaign ads, and that irritates me to the same degree. Candidates' families are always of interest, and always will be. I don't mind them being on stage (though I do wonder how they feel about it at times). I do mind feeling like I'm being manipulated by cute kids.

And I really, really mind that the pregnancy of Palin's daughter is being used, simultaneously, to prop up anti-choice agendas and to decry the invasive nature of American politics. Either you keep your family out of the public eye, or you live with the consequences. And if you are willing to let your 17-year old daughter be a poster child for the anti-choice movement, then you've sacrificed her privacy whether you think it's fair or not. You can't demand her privacy and show her off as a model of "choosing life" at the same time. (You also can't laud her "choice" and then spend the rest of your time lobbying for legislation which would get rid of the whole concept of reproductive choice. Equally irritating.)

There's a fine line here between disagreeing with parenting styles and wondering whether parental decisions reveal something about a person's basic character, so as to impact that person's suitability for public office. For example: I've read a quote from Palin's speech in which she said something like, "Some people use change to promote their careers: John McCain has used his career to promote change." Nifty line. But a bit slick coming from someone who is evidently willing to place her 17-year old daughter square in the public eye, including a really sickening emphasis on how she's going to marry the 18-year old father of her child, in order to become McCain's running mate. I'm not sure you're in a position to criticize someone else's ambition if you went back to work the day after having a baby.

This gets complicated, because for all I know, Obama went back to work the days after his daughters were born. If we're lucky enough to have children, I plan to be a working mom myself, and I have no shame about that whatsoever. But it goes back to my central problem with choosing Palin: consistency. Or the total lack of it.

Let's face it: the choice of a running mate is entirely political. You want to find someone who fills in the soft spots of your resume, who appeals to a different category of voters. So McCain might well have chosen someone from a different area of the country, with different experience, who appeals to younger voters. That's fine. If you think a woman candidate might help you get women voters, I can understand that. No problem.

But choosing a woman who, by any standards, is light on experience - after you have spent over a year decrying your opponent's lack of experience? What does that say to women? That you think we are so dumb as to vote for vagina over values? That we can't see past hairdo's and pantsuits to the vast and overwhelming differences between Sarah and Hillary? Do you really think that women (and men) who supported Hillary were in her camp only because of her gender?

I really love that McCain is now crying sexism because so many questions have come up about Palin's resume. Funny how that never came out of his mouth while Hillary was in the race. You cannot reasonably expect to choose a highly inexperienced woman, after months of pounding the pulpit for the value of experience, and then brand any questions about her background as sexist. If you had chosen a similiarly inexperienced man, would you be trying to protect him from the questioning? Why does she need protecting anyway? That's sexist.

I was never going to vote for McCain anyway, even if he chose George Clooney as his running mate. (I might have volunteered for George's campaign staff, but that's another post.) But after a historic primary, after knowing that a woman might actually become President during my lifetime, it's really, really disheartening to feel totally patronized. Choosing a candidate because she's a woman is just as unfair as not choosing her for the same reason. And no matter how hard you try to convince me otherwise: if you choose someone who's been the governor of one of the least populated states in the union for a whopping 18 months - and if you do that after harping on your opponent for being inexperienced - and if you then get super pissed at the media for questioning your choice - then you're telling me one thing: I chose her because she's a girl.

And that's exactly what girls don't need, Mr. McCain. Especially Ms. Palin.

a thousand words

Let's face it: I am not the biggest fan of our current president.

But, really. Even his most ardent supporters have to admit - the guy takes a horrible photo. Is there any shot of him that doesn't look like that freckley dude from Mad magazine?

Take this.



Is this the face you want telling you who to vote for in November? Really?

Please, O Lord, hasten the day when my first thought, upon seeing the President of this fine country, is no longer thus: "Boy, I bet that guy has some cheap used cars on his lot."