Three Years

Me, "Ugh, I'm so tired of mopping these floors everyday."
Boss, "In three years you won't have to. We'll all be gone."
Me, "I'll still have the dogs."
Boss, "Bobby will probably be dead and Winnie will be old."
Me, "She'll still need to go out and she will still track in."
Boss, "I don't think you can know what the world will look like in three years."

Just a normal smart ass conversation between my 18 year old son and me as he was leaving for school, and yet, I couldn't let it go....

It's not just that I practically dissolve into tears (okay not practically, I do) whenever I think about being an emptynester.  I mean it kind of is that--I have no idea what the world will look like in three years on a global level (and that scares the beejezus out of me particularly because of this upcoming election).  But even scarier for me, I have no idea what my world will look like.  Who will I be in three years? The children will be gone (although not off the payroll) and being their mother has been my world. I'm still in transition from my previous call, will I still be? All day I thought about his off the cuff remark and while I can proudly say my anxiety didn't mount, my curiosity did.  (Okay maybe my anxiety mounted just a little...) So last night as I was showering I started thinking about February three years ago; three years doesn't seem like much time, but....

• Three years ago I was newly ordained and the curate at Calvary--I'm no longer there and have yet to settle anywhere (2013)
• Three years before that we were living at the seminary and I was in my second year (2010)
• Three years before that we lived in England and had no idea we would live in Louisville (2007)
• Three years before that we lived in Pittsburgh and seminary was not on my radar screen (I thought I'd go when the children were gone--you know three years from now....) (2004)
• Three years before that we lived in Athens and I would have died if you told me I'd live in Pittsburgh (the place where my faith grew and deepened and some of my best friends ever were made) (2001)
• Three years before that we had two children and thought we were done--2 months later I was pregnant (1998)
• Three years before that I was pregnant with our first child, living in Augusta and I worked for Planned Parenthood (1995)
• Three years before that I had was grieving an on again off again relationship that was permanently off--I met Chris 6 months later (1992)

I thought about all the changes that happened in these three year increments.  I thought about how not once would I have been able to predict three years down the road.  In fact, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have asked for any of the change that came each three years (except the two more children...I was praying against Chris on that one...) And yet, I know I wouldn't change a thing.  Each of those three years brought love and laughter and joy and growth and change.  Each of those three years had times of sadness and anxiety and uncertainty and pain.  But each of those three years have made me into who I am today--I hope a little wiser and a little kinder. I know each of those three years has deepened my faith as I learned to trust (most of the time) that God is in control. (whose earthly ministry by the way was three years....)

I have no idea what the next three years will bring; I guess I'll just wait and see...

To Collar or Not To Collar

I began attending Marist High School in the 7th grade (a college

prep Catholic high school--7-12-- in Atlanta, Georgia). Not long into the school year I started hearing people talk about how quickly they got out of their uniforms when they got home or that they hated it when they had to run errands after school still in their uniform. I was very confused. I loved wearing my uniform; I loved people asking me where I went to

school; I loved people knowing I went to Marist...

Recently (read since I've been criticized or questioned about why I don't always wear my collar) I've thought a lot about my days at Marist and why I loved the uniform so much.  Keep in mind, I was a 7th grade girl which easily translates into a self centered, insecure individual, but I know, and frankly I knew then, I loved it because it made me stand apart; it made me feel special; deep breath...it made me feel better than...

And it made me feel like I belonged.

It made me feel like I belonged AND that I belonged to something better than, something above others, something privileged, and I liked that feeling. I am not going to beat myself up about how I felt then--I was 13 for crying out loud who late in the spring of that very year was diagnosed with an eating disorder, so clearly I had issues--but it does make me stop and think.  It makes me think about belonging, and it makes me think about motivation and intention. And it makes me think about thin lines....

We all want to belong; we were created to be in relationship--and we all want to feel special...the problem I think is that we believe in order for us to feel special we have to be above someone else--

Don't get me wrong; there are many ways we exhibit belonging that are innocent--we wear our team colors, people get t-shirts made for family reunions, matching tattoos (yes, still thinking about one for myself) just to name a few.  And there are times we need to stand out--there are times we need to identify who we are--doctor's in scrubs; officials in games; and even priests in collars...

But I think there are also times we use these "things" to stand out for not so good reasons.  And there are times we use these "things" as armor against the world.  I suspect this helps explain gangs and their colors and their signs....

I was a little girl just entering the teen years, and like many little girls I was insecure and scared but trying desperately not to let anyone know. That uniform became my armor--proof I was good enough, proof I was special, proof I belonged. And it became a way for me to ignore my true feelings, to deal with my true feelings...

What I know now is I wasn't alone and I also know (although still need to be reminded) that I am special and I belong simply because I am a person created in the image of God.  But here's the really important thing, so is EVERYONE ELSE!!!  At our baptisms we are "sealed and marked as Christ's own forever" oh that that sign would be enough for everyone...

So the answer to the question do I wear my collar all the time is no. And I am very conscious of when

Thinking? Or overthinking?

Sometimes it's monogrammed

I wear it and what it represents--I continually challenge myself.  Am I wearing it to stand out and to be special? Am I wearing it to be given special treatment? (okay maybe in the airport...) or am I wearing it because it is part of who I am, part of who God created me to be? Am I wearing it to be "above others" or to be with others--with others as equals, all belonging, all special in our own ways?

I loved my years at Marist; I love the friends I have kept and reconnected with--they are part of my journey in life--they are part of forming who I am today.  And I still proudly wear my Marist ski hat (The Hat), and I always will, but now I wear it for the right reasons.

Yes I Would Celebrate the Eucharist Standing on My Head

It's all about relationships--

I was standing there during the break connecting with John a colleague who knows several people I do and we were sharing stories, so really just minding my own business when she walked up and touched my arm..

Victoria has a smile that lights up a room, a smile that is warm and engaging inviting you into conversation--you know what they say, things aren't always what they seem, and I was soon to find out.  "How many stations do you want during the Eucharist?"  See I told you it's actually a sinister smile, luring you in.... "Why are you asking me?" I questioned.  "Because you're the celebrant. So how do many do you want and where do you want them?"

My hands began to sweat and my heart to race.  Just then John said, "I'll let you two talk." ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!?!  He's deserting me; so much for thinking he might be a new friend--traitor!  I'll bet Ben and Rob have told you I'm psychotic I thought all the while trying to send him telepathic messages, "please don't leave me; please don't leave me...."  He left...

My eyes were darting around the room as I thought to myself, "I don't want to make these decisions; I've never been in this church; what if I'm wrong?!?!? Why are you asking me? Can't someone else decide?" At that precise moment my friend, who doesn't know me that well and probably now wants to know me less, Lisa walked by--I reached out and grabbed her arm almost shrieking, "How many communion stations should we have and where should they be?" I think at this point Victoria realized I was not stable so she piped in, "The altar guild says with large groups they usually have four" and then she began explaining where they put them.  A startled Lisa quickly answered, "Yes four; it will be a large group." I know she wanted me to let go of my death grip on her arm, but what if Victoria asked ANOTHER question!?!?!? Should I risk t? I finally relented, let go and ran.....(and I'm pretty sure Lisa will steer clear of me for years to come...)

Okay, I get it.  I know the presider is "in charge."  I know he/she "should have full authority and conduct of the worship." (See I read the canons) And I am a rule follower--sometimes an unquestioning rule follower which isn't necessarily good. But at this moment my ecclesiology, leadership style and neurosis all collided--right there in the middle of that hotel lobby!!  Let's just start with my neurosis so we can get that out of the way--I have no idea why I was asked to celebrate, so of course during moments of insecurity (like when people ask me questions I don't have answers to) my brain goes to, "They just asked me because they feel sorry for me." (for what I haven't figured out--this is my neurosis it isn't supposed to make sense, but Nadia Bolz-Webber thinks we should name our demons since they hang out with us so much--stay tuned for that) or "They're going to figure out I'm not worthy to do this." I can get that under control pretty quickly (thank God for therapy) most times but then there's the whole ecclesiology...

That's also shrouded with doubt--there have been a few people who have challenged whether I accept my priestly identity siting two specifics---I don't wear my collar all the time and going by a title isn't that important to me (except when the youth call me Mama Doyle because that makes my heart sing...). And so I live in paradox.  Now let's be clear, while I don't necessarily want to have a title used I would never call my Bishop anything but "Bishop" and if he told me to celebrate the Eucharist standing on my head, I would do so no questions asked.  I really am a rule follower--for example, I know Bishops have for lack of better terms "right of first refusal" to celebrate during worship, which is why I accosted Bishop Andy Doyle in the hotel lobby making certain he didn't want to celebrate. (I hope he doesn't know Barbara Brown Taylor or he may know to quickly put me on the author stalker list...I prefer to call it the zealous fan)I know these things, and I like them, I follow them, but...

To complicate matters further, I firmly believe in and preach and try to practice a baptismal ecclesiology which makes us ALL ministers of the church--lay and ordained.  And I believe we all bring our gifts to worship (like deciding things about stations...)--worship I believe should be participatory not observatory. So although I have the "right" to make all the decisions, I don't want to. I know according to the Canons of the Diocese of Kentucky I have control of and the responsibility for all aspects of public worship including the music and the arrangement of the furniture and appointments of the Chancel.  I get that but why would I take over the music?  I work with some phenomenal musicians. There are people gifted; people whose ministry that is, and have you seen my house--I don't think you want me arranging furniture...

So the third issue--my leadership style.  It's not that I don't claim my authority as a priest, it's just that I do it differently than some.. I'm more comfortable with a participatory style of leadership.  I want to talk things out; hear people's thoughts; recognize gifts and then make a decision---I don't want to be the "important" one--treated that way or think of myself that way...(except when I go through airport security)

My Cohort

I have been working very hard at examining all of this--just ask my cohorts in my Certificate of Leadership in Lifelong Christian Formation....

Friday morning came early and I was overcome with emotion.  I posted this on facebook:

This morning I have the honor of celebrating the closing Eucharist for Forma. Being asked for that was overwhelming enough but presiding at Christ Church the first parish of the Church of England in the colonies, the first Protestant Episcopal Church, the church where The Rt Rev William White, our first presiding Bishop was rector, the church where Absalom Jones the first African American priest was ordained and where the Philadelphia 11 (first women ordained in the episcopal church) were welcomed has me up early reflecting and hoping these emotions are in check before the service begins at 9:15.

Apparently my emotions were both the least of my problems and the answer to my problems...

Asking so many questions!

As I walked up to the church Victoria greeted me with that smile-"Oh no," I thought, "I'm onto you." We walked in together, and I began to breathe. She hadn't asked me anything, but then we made it to the pews and the questions started.  I knew it!  How could I have let that cagey smile win me over again?!?!? I tried to act cool calm and collected---tried to act like I knew what I was doing....tried to not sound flippant...tried to be priestly.

From Mark the musician, "Where do you want me to stand?" Me, "Where ever you want." but then I added, "Just don't trip me." (While that sounds flippant, I have fallen off the altar before and broken my foot....another story).  From the sound guy, "Where's the preacher preaching from?" Me, "Where ever she wants."  That one didn't sit well and mainly because he needed to set up.  So I sent people scurrying to call Myra.  I know Myra, I like Myra but I don't know Myra.  I didn't know if she wanted to climb into that high pulpit or preach from the floor, and I didn't feel like it was my call. Her sermon was her gift to the congregation (and man what a gift it was!)  (Ultimately the sound guy made the call for logistic reasons....) And the questions continued--most of the time I deflected them like a super hero, most of the time....

I was going to get vested when Mark approached me again, "So during communion I have several songs chosen; ones pretty long.  The one following it is Be Thou My Vision, if we're already finished communion do you just want me to skip it or play it anyway." "DO NOT SKIP IT!"  (I didn't really yell it, but I did say it very firmly, very authoritatively). I stunned myself and quickly did a card catalog search as to why I was so emphatic. Got it...

Sharing stories about Gangan
with Mark and his wife Amanda

I turned back to Mark and tried to soften myself--this man didn't know me and I didn't want him to think I was a bossy control freak (back to the neurosis), "It was my Grandmother's favorite hymn. We sang it at her funeral. She was a large part of my faith formation. I wish she could be here with me in this historic church today." Mark smiled at me and said, "It's a great hymn and it will be played."

It wasn't the only thing I made decisions about; it was important to me that the assisting priest and I walk side by side (would have had the deacon with us too if there had ben room--I do recognize the importance of flowing liturgy--space sometimes rules) I also made another firm decision that day. It was important to me the three of us--priests and deacon stood together behind the altar--so I asked them too. Finally, I wanted my dear friend Andrea to chalice with me at the altar, and so I just stated it. But the thing is, it wasn't because I could do what I wanted, it was because of our relationships. These choices I made because of my belief in relationship and connection in the church and in the world, and I wanted that belief to be visible. All aspects of worship matter--it all says something...

To be honest, I didn't leave my neurosis at the door either.  As I processed in that little demon in my

head said, "Who do you think you are?" and "People are laughing at you" but it didn't last because as I processed in, my eyes met those of so many people who have loved me, supported me and lifted me up.  The people whose voices remind me that I am worthy because I am a beloved child of God.

Andrea and I serving

I know it's shocking, but I haven't stopped thinking about all this. I don't want to be a control freak, but I also don't want to look like I don't know what I'm doing (back to the they feel sorry for me...). I appreciate a liturgy that flows smoothly, but I also want to lead liturgy that is open and accessible to everyone without fear of "messing up." I want the liturgy to be of the people so the people, ALL the people lay and ordained move from that liturgy into the world to make liturgy as Bishop Andy Doyle described it. And I want the liturgy to help us make connections in our lives--connections with the past, the present and the future.  Be Thou My Vision connected me that day to Gangan--it connected me to a legacy of faith in a parish that was full of legacy. So yes, I want the liturgy to be the work of the people; I want to honor the gifts people bring, the experiences they bring, the brokenness, the need, and the hope and I want the liturgy to bind us all together to be one body.  I don't believe I can do that alone--I want to, I need to collaborate.

What I've really learned is I can live in the paradox of hierarchy and democracy (Episcopalians are good at paradox). What I've learned is the way to live there is through relationships--building them and continuing them.  It's about relationships that center around integrity and respect and vulnerability and connections. I would celebrate the Eucharist standing on my head if my Bishop told me to because I trust he would have a good reason (please please please don't test this....).

I believe learning and practicing together creating liturgies in the church will empower us as we take liturgy to the world. People in historic Christ Church have done that for years.--built relationships, made connections and their liturgies have impacted the world.

Now to work on the neurosis part....