Blessings, Fear and a Circle of Love

As they wheeled me out of the hospital holding Sarah Katherine 19 years ago, I struggled to suppress an uncontrollable fit of the giggles.  I looked over at Chris and saw a look of disbelief on his face.  We buckled SK into her car seat, got in the car ourselves, and I turned to Chris and said, "They're really letting us leave with her..."  "I know," Chris replied, "We have no idea what we're doing; don't they know that?"  Four and a half years later when we left with our fourth little blessing, we absolutely knew (and I'm pretty sure everyone else did too) we didn't know what we were doing, but we had learned that with a little laughter, a lot of faith and the blessing of family and friends we would be alright.

Over the years there have been numerous times when we have been quite aware we had no idea what we were doing.  There have been times of deep fear and deep sorrow, but there have also been many times of joy and hope and laughter.  One of the things we have learned (shh, don't tell our children, we aren't sure they are yet aware) is that we have so much less control than we want to have, then we believe we need to have to keep our family safe and secure.  We have had to face the reality that there is evil in the world, in the shadows, that can and does threaten the sense of safety and security that we have tried to build in our home.  And we have experienced times of having to face that evil as it tries to penetrate the world of goodness that God has given us all.

9/11 was for so many of us in the world one of those days.  Sarah Katherine was in kindergarten, and I am so grateful she was in parochial school.  The school released all students that morning saying, "At times like these families need to be together, to pray and hold one another close."  That day I gathered all four children together and we joined with friends as the adults tried to both not allow our fear to seep into the innocent world of childhood and to try to make sense of what was happening.

As our children have grown that innocent world of childhood has been punctured on several occasions.  Truth be told as the children have grown, Chris and I have known that as much as we hate to do it, we have had to allow some of our fears into their world.  We have had to let them know that the goodness of the world God has given us is broken and that they have to be careful; they have to be aware.  And we have had to let go--we have had to let them go to school without us, to drive the car alone, and to go off to college--all the while knowing that bad things do happen to good people, to careful people, to innocent people, to God's people.

This weekend the brokenness of the world cracked the security  of our girl's world.  A young girl has gone missing from the hallowed Grounds of the University of Virginia.  It's hitting too close--I am terrified.  I in no way want to equate how my fear must compare to Hannah's family.  My heart breaks for them and my prayers for both Hannah and her family are never ceasing.  But I have to admit I am scared and that desperation to be able to both pray and physically hold Sarah Katherine is coarsing through my veins--and she is 494.8 miles away.

When Chris and I took SK, our first blessing, to school we were both comforted knowing there were people there who knew and loved us--blessings God has given our family.  The blessing of friendships given to me over 20 years ago.  Friends of mine who had never before met SK reached out to her and to us.  Diddy gave her a mug filled with goodies as a welcome; Adonice took her a cake, promised me she'd open her medicine caps (remember that is a skill SK does not have); Holland re-entered our lives, and Ellen, Molly, Dana, Andrea  and many others sent me messages to say, if she needs anything tell her to call.  I had no idea what that need may be...

Over the last 24 hours those friends, those blessings have reached out to me and to SK.  I am not there to hold her, to protect her, to offer her a sense of security, but they are.   I am so comforted knowing my girl has a safety net, a circle of love, and I wish every parent had that.  I am grateful beyond words for my friends and my heart hurts for all parents who have had to let their children go and who don't have that safety net wherever their children are.  I pray for them, for peace in their hearts and I pray for this world.  I pray that we can all be blessings to each other and that as we form our circle of love that bond becomes so strong that soon, very soon, only the goodness of God and the world God created exists.  I pray our circle of love expands to blanket the entire world and evil is no more.

We left the hospital that day 19 years ago with one of God's gifts, one of God's blessings given to u; we may not have known what we were doing, but God has provided.  I had no idea how much God would continue to bless us--today I give special thanks for those blessings God has given me that reside in C'ville. Words will never be adequate to express the peace you bring to my heart.  Thank you; I love ya'll--hug my girl.  My hands aren't there, but yours are as my hands, as God's hands.

Faith Formation Outside of the Classroom

Christian Formation is my passion.  I love reading about it, talking about it, writing about it, analyzing it--you name it, I love it.  As the new Director of Christian Formation for Calvary Episcopal Church in Louisville as well as the Diocesan Chair for Christian Formation, it is on my mind, well non stop.  I want to help develop Christian formation programs that speak to our world today, that are inclusive, tolerant, and real  I believe Christian formation is lifelong; I believe Christian formation takes many forms and last night as I was reading Julie Lytle's book Faith Formation 4/0, my belief that Christian formation is a part of the entirety of the church and not just the hour or the 45 minutes of "Sunday School" was solidified. In fact, I'll go out on a limb and say, Christian formation happens more outside of that time than within.

Anyone who has been around me for more than 20 minutes talking about Episcopal churches hears me talk incessantly about St. Paul's Mt. Lebanon.  St. Paul's was our parish for 2 1/2 years; it was our friends and it was our family away from home.  We left 10 years ago, and still my heart swells when I think of the time we spent there.  When we left St. Paul's to move to Virginia a very wise priest, The Rev. Doug Wigner, said to me, "When you leave a parish that has been so integral to your life; a parish in which you have been so involved, there will be a time of grieving, and it will be hard to immediately assimilate into a new parish. A part of your heart will always remain with that parish."  How right he was.  So last night as I was reading I was trying to remember what "programs" were used, what curricula was presented, what topics we discussed in Rector's Forum.  And I couldn't remember ONE thing--but here are the memories that came rushing back.

I remember Caroline at 2 walking straight into Father Bob Banse's office and being welcomed while I was trying to keep her out.  He said, "She's fine in here; go do what you need to do."  (It might have helped that she called him Father God.)  I remember standing in the kitchen with the parish secretary, financial secretary, both priests, the sexton and Patti Trainor,another friend, as we and our children celebrated the sexton's birthday--a gathered, inclusive, community centered around a table.  I remember walking into the youth lounge and finding my children on various teens laps, and I remember walking in and saying, "First youth to call me gets the babysitting job Friday night" and it was just like having older siblings show up.  I remember eating dinner before the Alpha program and seeing Holland sitting behind her mother with her 15 year old arms draped around her and thinking, "I hope my relationship with my girls is like that." and then having Janie to turn to over the years, across the miles to give me advice and pray for me--and in fact that is now my relationship with my girls.  I remember Caroline coming into church after Children's chapel and taking her time to choose who she would sit with.  (Her comment when we told them we were moving to Virginia, "well who will I sit with in church?")  I remember William knocking over the chalice during a midweek Eucharist where the children were gathered around the altar.  His eyes swelled with tears as he began to tremble, and Father Bob picked him up and continued celebrating with William in his arms.  I remember Caroline walking into the assistant rector's, Fr. James McCaskill, office during a pre-marriage counseling session and the couple and James saying, "You are welcome to stay if you just sit quietly."  She sat on the groom-to-be's lap throughout.  (And ya'll wonder why she's the child she is today--seriously it was not ME!)  I remember a wonderful friendship with a couple,, the Kubanceks, who were my parents age and who treated Chris and I as equals--as people with as much to offer as they had.  I remember TJ bringing Christopher home from football (yes Christopher was 5) and when I tried to pay him say, "Mrs. Doyle, we're family.  We don't pay each other to help out."  I remember on our first visit back after moving they sang all my children's favorite songs in Children's chapel to welcome them home.  And I remember driving by the church one afternoon and William saying, "Aren't we going to stop at the church?'  "No," I answered, "I don't have anything I need to do there today."  "Well I think we should just stop by to say hello," he replied.  And we did.  These are just a few of the memories that continue to flood my mind...

In contrast, we attended another church for a while that I truly believe was a place of God's love.  I know many people who have been reared, worked and attended this parish and they are faithful people of God.  But what I remember when I think of this church is having not lived in the community for very long and shyly (yes me) walking into pageant rehearsal one cold December morning and seeing a group of women laughing and walking out.  One turned to me, my hopes soared thinking I was going to be invited along,  and instead she said, "Excuse me," (she didn't know my name), "Could you stay and help?  They need someone to and we really want to go get coffee together and catch up." And I learned what it meant to be excluded and that there must be some sort of "initiation| into belonging in this community.

I don't remember the Sunday School curriculum of either church, but I remember what St. Paul's taught our family about God's love, acceptance, and inclusivity.  St. Paul's taught us that children matter, that all people matter, and that the love of God extends beyond Sunday morning.  St. Paul's taught us how to live our faith in the world.  I am challenged as a priest--challenged by my mentors and friends, The Rev. Bob Banse and The Rev. James McCaskill, as well as all the people of St. Paul's.  In 10 years, what will people I lead and love remember?

God's love in Cakes and PJ's

People say things they don't mean all the time.  You know how you walk by people and everyone says, "Hey how are you?" but no one really stops and listens--unless you went to UVA in 1989 when my psychology class conducted an experiment.  For one week, each time someone walking past us asked "how are you", we were supposed to stop them and tell them.  I can't even remember what the point of the experiment was, but I'm pretty sure people started walking past me with their eyes down or even saw me coming and crossed the street.  There is some woman out there who has probably never asked anyone how they are again since I told her, "well fine except for cramps and an ingrown toe nail."

And there are others--things people say that they may even mean at the time, but there is little follow through.  The times you say to someone, "We should have lunch/coffee/drinks" and the next time you see them you say, "We should really have lunch/coffee/drinks."  Many times I have heard, and I have said, "If you need anything, please call." And those calls never happen.  Perhaps those calls don't happen because it is so hard for our individualistic, self sufficient, I can handle everything myself society to actually admit that we need help, to actually admit that a community can be a blessing, that together we can love, serve, and care for others better than we can alone?  So those calls don't happen very frequently--wonder how many of us actually breathe a sigh of relief?

Last Thursday when I pulled the plug on Cousins Weekend, it also meant we wouldn't see SK on her birthday.  While we were only going to get to see her between classes for an hour, we were going to get to see her.  Birthdays are a huge deal in our house--I know it's shocking but there are lots of traditions, lots of goofy traditions that the children tolerate with eye rolling.  This was the first time SK had not been with the family on her birthday.  The first time in 19 years...

My heart was hurting for one of my babies--for all of my babies, and a mother's hurting heart can propel her to do things she wouldn't normally do. Actually this is the second time I stretched my comfort zone and asked--this summer hotels were all full by the time I went to make reservations for orientation weekend, so I sent out a plea to my sorority sisters living in C'ville,  Almost immediately Adonice, whom I had not seen in 25 years, whom I had only in the past few years reconnected with on facebook, responded, "you're welcome here."  It was a wonderful visit and reconnection; then Chris and I had dinner with she and her husband Greg when we dropped SK off and the famous words, "Call if ya'll need anything or tell SK to call if she needs anything" were said.  I suspected SK would never call and I knew I would have to be desperate to "inconvenience" anyone.  Well, I was desperate....

I texted Adonice and asked if she knew of a place that would deliver a cake or a cookie bouquet.  Within minutes she responded, "I can take one!!!!"  Another thing many people myself included are terrible at doing is just saying, "Thank you" and accepting help.  I had to argue, tell her I was sure she had other things to do when my heart was really saying, "thank you, thank you , thank you."  Finally I did say thank you, and Adonice planned to take her the cake on Monday.  Monday morning, Adonice checked in with me to see if there was anything else she needed and then texted SK.  Between classes SK texted me, "Adonice baked me a cake!!"  My heart was beginning to smile.  As we were having birthday lunch with our
 exchange student, SK sent me pictures--tears sprang to my eyes.  Adonice went so beyond what I expected--I thought she'd drive up and SK would meet her outside to get the cake.  Nope, she came in with TWO cakes--one for the hall and a pretty one for just SK.  She came in with her precious daughter Carey and she came in with new pj's.  She came in as extended family; she came in as an angel; she came in.

Over the past few weeks I have been working on putting together Christian formation and mission.  I believe they are intricately intertwined, but putting it into words, into specific examples can be difficult.  So often when we think of mission we think of mission trips, homeless shelters, and outreach to the "other", and when we think of formation we think of memorizing, church history, and doctrines.  I believe mission is ministry where you are, to the people with whom you are surrounded, and formation--life long formation happens all the time in words but more importantly through

actions.  Mission is sharing the love of God in community in many ways.  Yesterday Adonice's mission and formed me.  She taught me that God does indeed call us to be in community and to be in community we have to be vulnerable.  We have to reach out to others, and we have to let others respond.  God's love comes to us in many ways--sometimes in cakes and pj's.

I tried to and have tried to express how much I appreciate what she did.  Adonice's final text to me was, "My pleasure; seriously."  And I believe she means it.

She also sent me pictures of my happy girl!

Cousins of the Heart

Cousins Weekend started in 1996.  We all gathered for Gangan's birthday and a tradition was begun.  That year there were 2 great grandchildren--the second generation of cousins; now there are 12.  The cousins, both first and second generation, start talking about it months in advance.  As the date gets closer, the excitement mounts.  Pictures posted on social media always have comments of, "Just a few more weeks and I'll see you"  "I know--love ya!"  We have had 18 Cousins Weekends--it has moved around during the summer based on everyone's schedule.  When we lived in England they planned around our trip home; the year Gangan died we had her service on Cousins Weekend;.  Not everyone can always make it--camp, sports, college sometimes get in the way, but it always happens--until this year....

Gangan's service

It was such a long week--an emotional week.  Chris and I didn't get much sleep.  It seemed like every day there was something new--something else to worry about (read obsess about for me).  Wednesday night Chris said, "Maybe we need to reconsider going this weekend."  And I burst into tears.  How could we not go?  Cousins Weekend sustains me through the year--cousins weekend is the one weekend I feel completely sane, the one weekend I feel like I totally belong, like I'm totally accepted,  the one weekend I can just be me. I've tried to explain it in a blog--I've semi-succeeded.  What's so special about Cousins Weekend?

"We'll go.  We'll go." Chris jumped in.  "Absolutely we'll go.  We'll make it work."   We went to bed

and I laid awake worrying.  He was so tired--physically and emotionally.   He was going to have to do all the driving--we had to rent a car; I can't drive because of the boot; Boss can't help drive because it's a rental--10 hours each way.  There was still stuff hanging out there--emotional stuff--that we hadn't resolved...

Thursday morning I was a mess--well more of a mess than normal.  As Chris left for work I said, "Maybe we should think about not going."  "I'll leave it up to you," he said as he kissed my cheek and left.  I needed to process, so I walked to my therapist's office.  (I know not the smartest thing to do when you're in a boot, but smarter than driving or losing your mind...)  After an hour of many tears, I knew I had to pull the plug on Cousins Weekend, and it broke my heart.  And I knew it was going to break my children's hearts.

I told Caroline as we were waiting for the neurologist to check her concussion--not the best timing.  She was furious; tears streamed down her face and for the first time ever I witnessed her being rude to an adult (well an adult outside of the family).  She would barely speak to him.  As we got in the car after the appointment William said, "When should we pack for Cousins Weekend?"  Caroline glared at me as I responded, "We're not going."  Dead silence...we got home and Boss asked me what was going on.  I told him--he flew down the stairs, punched a hole in the wall and paced.  This was not going well.

I couldn't bear the thought of talking to anyone.  I didn't know what I wanted to share about our decision, so I texted the group.  Cowardly I know.  Immediately the texts came flying back--'we'll reschedule', 'let us know what we can do', ' going to miss seeing you but really hoping everything's okay', 'do you want me to drive to C'ville for SK's birthday?'  Second generation cousins started texting, checking on each other.  I felt the love, but I still couldn't engage.

 Friday morning I woke up to a text from my sister letting me know she was here if I wanted to talk.  Beth called and left a message--before I could even listen to it I knew it would start, "Hey cheeka" and it did.  Taylor sent a text, "What's up with the Doyle's?  Someone in jail?"  And for the first time I laughed.

Yesterday I wanted blueberry muffins--a Cousin Weekends staple--so I walked to Kroger.  (Again

not a smart move in a boot)  Coming home I called Beth.  I told her everything--the whole year of pain came spewing out.  As we were hanging up she said, "I totally understand why you had to cancel; I just wish you were here so I could give you a big hug.  Luv ya!"

It hit me--Cousins Weekend is important, and I'm so glad we're rescheduling.  I need to see the cousins; I need a weekend with just the cousins, but it's not the weekend that makes us; it's the heart.

Joan Chittister says,
"We all need someone, somewhere to support us when we fail, to sustain us as we grow, to beckon us beyond the present to the complete development of the self. Most of all, we each need someone who sees in us what we may not even see in ourselves — and requires us to pursue it."

So thankful I have The Cousins.

A Letter of My Hopes and Dreams for You as You Enter College

Dear Monkey Moo, Boss, Willie Wonka, and Carolina,

This is my feeble attempt to pass on what I hope for ya'll both choosing and attending college.

When SK and I were looking at colleges, we were in C'ville and I woke up one morning and went for an early run.  As I was running through Grounds passing all the places I passed 25 years ago, tears kept springing to my eyes.  Happy tears--tears of joy as I remembered my years there. And it hit me--this is what I want for each of you.  I want you to choose and attend a college that 25 years after you graduate, you still love.  A place that will always have a part of your heart--a place you would choose again.  But remember as you choose, you can change your mind.  I didn't even apply to UVA in high school, transferred second year and it's like I never went anywhere else.  Admitting you were wrong in your choice the first time does not make you weak; it makes you strong--you don't have to settle for what is fine or will work--Daddy and I have worked hard so that you can have the BEST fit for you.  Ignore what "everyone" else is doing, what schools other think will be "perfect" for you--find your dream school and soar.

These will be some of the most amazing four years of your life (and yes, 4 years--that's all we've agreed to fund :) )  You will grow and change in ways you cannot even imagine; you will find things out about yourself that will be surprising, empowering, and possibly even unsettling.  Embrace it all.  While your in school, take courses that challenge you academically,the way you think, and your view of the world.  Take courses in areas you know interest you and also stretch and take some that you're not so certain about.  Take courses that challenge what you think you know, that offer another viewpoint, and that allow you to either solidify what you believe or bend and change.  Become passionate and idealistic.  Form your own theology, your own philosophy, your own political views, your own world view and then be willing to be challenged, to possibly change your mind, but to always be able to express your ideas and beliefs with compassion, courage, and confidence.

Join clubs and organizations.  Explore all the school has to offer.

Make friends--friends that are like you and friends that aren't.  Make friends who share your faith, your politics, and your world view, and make friends who don't.  Make friends that love who you are and that challenge you to be more.  Make friends that you will stay in touch with for years and years and ones that you will reconnect with years later and it will seem like no time has passed.  Make friends with people whom you may never see again but who will leave a lasting impact.

And through these exciting and life changing years, always know that Daddy and I love you, support you and believe in you.  Ya'll are the best things we have ever been a part of and we love you more every day.  We are proud of who you are and of who you are becoming.  Reach for the stars, go where the world calls you, and remember you always have a safe place to land.

These next four years, have fun; remember who you are and who you are called to be; and be true to yourself.

Love you to the moon and back and back and back and back and back,
Mama

A Glimpse into the Ballet World--a glimpse into the Kingdom of God

I’m not a dancer.  But for 15 years through SK I’ve had a window into the world. The ballet 

world—I’ve seen the movies like The Black Swan; the movies that portray the ballet world as competitive—cut throat, neurotic, bordering on and sometimes crossing into the insane.  There is some truth, some reality, more than I want to admit, frightening as that is, to that portrayal.

For the past 6 ½ years SK has danced 20-30 hours a week, sometimes more,  on top of a full academic load.  This is not uncommon with these driven young men and women.  For 6 ½ years she has danced with girls from different schools, who are different ages but share one passion—to dance.  During these 6 ½ years, there have been deaths in families, divorce, eating disorders, physical pain, emotional pain, some girls leaving—and still they dance.  During these 6 ½ years they have seen one another through breakups, academic pressure, exhaustion, and even some shattered dreams.  They have also seen each other through first loves, academic success, and dreams fulfilled.  There have been tears, fierce fights, and harsh words.  There has been laughter and joy.

 It is a complicated world—a world of individuality and a world of synchronicity.  It is a world where every “flaw” in your body and you believe in your soul, is exposed.   It is a world of vulnerability and of power, of friend and foe, of success and failure.  It is a world that both intrigues and frightens me.

The other night some of these girls had their last night together before many leave for college.  I saw a picture from that night, and I froze and tears streamed down my face because in that picture I saw pureness and vulnerability and interconnectedness and love.  In that picture I saw a glimpse of the Kingdom of God.

Keep Calm and Put Your Lily On

I have to admit when I got the email, I was flattered.  The Courier Journal wanted to highlight me in Stylemaker.  Okay I admit it; first I went straight to my middle school girl mode and wondered if someone was playing a joke on me or making fun of me--but that's another story and probably for my therapist.  Anyway, I admit it; once I knew it was real, I was flattered and a tad bit proud and definitely surprised.  I don't see myself as a style person; I never won one of those "best dressed" "most attractive" "best hair" (There is a girl in SK's UVA class that got "best hair".  She told everyone at orientation.); I just see myself as an average person who probably spends too much on clothes--no comment please Chris.  So it felt good--and at the same time it felt weird and a little bit shallow.  Nonetheless after talking to several people, I decided to do it. Sunday, August 3--there I was; here I am.  The Rev. Katherine Doyle; Stylemaker.

I got to work early and was truly surprised by the number of people who had already seen it.  What are all these people doing getting up early enough on a Sunday morning to read the paper and get to church?  Seriously, ya'll sleep in!!!  People were bringing me copies, posting them on the bulletin board, ribbing me a little, talking about the publicity for Calvary, and saying how much they enjoyed it.   (I even had one parishioner ask me if she could now be my adopted grandmother--that has to be the best thing that has come from this.  I love you Grandma Lois!)  So overall it seemed to be accepted positively and in good fun as I had intended it to be.  I left work that day breathing a sigh of relief that I hadn't greatly offended anyone.  I knew there were probably some people who didn't think it was such a great idea, but no one who was angry enough to tell me or my boss.

Later that evening I was talking to one of my best friends who is also a female priest in this Diocese.  (I can already hear some of ya'll's brains trying to figure out who she is--let's put it this way Anne was out of town, so it wasn't her.  Does that help?)  As best friends who also know how neurotic you are do, she started with, "Please don't take this as criticism, but I wanted to tell you some of the comments I heard today.  Well, from the two people who made semi-negative comments."  I took a deep breath; I really did want to hear--I am learning that listening to people with different perspectives doesn't make my choices wrong but it helps me understand people, so I said, "Please tell me."  The two comments that have stayed with me from these two gentlemen are, "I wish she'd talked more about her ministry." and "What kind of priest wears Lily?"  (To which thankfully my friend could say, "Well I do.")   The first has been easier to think about; in fact, I kind of agree.  When I was answering the questions I even wanted to figure out a way to do it, but the questions were very specific and this was the style section.  I hoped my style philosophy could be read that way, as part of who I am as a priest, but honestly looking back perhaps I could have said something else, made it more clear--water under the bridge--(which is why I keep a hammer in my glove compartment--just another neurosis of mine.)  The second comment has been hard to let go.  What does that even mean?  Should a priest not wear Lily because it's too colorful or too pricey?  Does that mean a doctor or lawyer shouldn't wear clothes from Target or Walmart (which I also do AND I know doctors and lawyers who do as well!)?  I keep returning to this comment not because I think I am wrong but because I wonder what it means and because I strongly disagree with it--and that's been a journey.

The week before ordination I was in tears in the Bishop's office.  I was questioning whether I should be ordained.  I had repeatedly read the questions I was too answer and I was terrified particularly with this one.
Will you do your best to pattern your life [and that
of your family, or household, or community] in 
accordance with the teachings of Christ, so that you 
may be a wholesome example to your people?  (BCP, 532)

I had four children--three already teenagers.  I had long ago realized that while Chris and I were doing our best and it was actually pretty good, I had no control over some of the choices they might make  I was worried that we wouldn't be a wholesome example and I was worried about putting my children in the position that they had to be.  Bishop White wisely and calmly reminded me that it said, "will you do your best".  He also told me that being able to say you're sorry and admit when you or your family makes mistakes is a witness and a good example of living in accordance with the teachings of Christ.  (In these past two years we've been able to be THAT kind of model repeatedly!)  I then told him that I was struggling with some of how we lived.  What did it look like that we had three children in private school?  (I have to totally fight the urge to explain and describe all the sacrifices we have had to and still make in order to do this--oh wait I didn't fight that urge very well....)  Again Bishop White calmly told me that it was good that I considered these things but the choices Chris and I made for our family were just that our choices.  Would some people have something to say about it?  Probably, but he also reminded me that people would have something to say about many things I did--sermons I preached; decisions I made.  He told me that I needed to be okay with my choices  made through prayer and discernment and discussion with Chris, and then take the black eyes that may come.  He also reminded me that God had called me to this vocation; I heard the call, the community heard and supported me in the call.  God knew who I was (he didn't add neurosis and all, but I bet he thought it) and God called.  It was my job to answer.

As I continue to think about the question, "What kind of priest wears Lily?" I have had to return to that conversation with the Bishop.  We never discussed my choice of dress (although I am told there was conversation around the Diocese about what heels I would wear), but the conversation still helps me.  How one dresses does seem to define people far more than I wish it did.  I'm as guilty as anyone else--I often say to my children, "How you present yourself matters.", but what I don't agree with is that brand should matter.  I am a mother, a wife, an athlete (or ex-athlete), a southerner, a prep, and a priest.  All of these make up who I am, and all of these were part of me when God called and I answered.

Saturday while at the needlepoint shop I saw a canvas that says, "Keep calm and put your lily on" I laughed, but I think I'm going back to get it.  I'm going to stitch it and then put it in my office, next to the pictures of my family, my Bibles, and my prayer beads.  I'm going to do it to remind myself that God loves all the parts of me just like God loves everyone else--no exceptions.  I am grateful for the question--it helped me to own that.