Reaching the Goal

I set a goal for myself for Christmas eve.

Since agreeing to be in the choir at church, my goal was to not totally suck, even if it's Christmas and even if the people at church are supposed to be forgiving and understanding.

And....






drumroll please....










I didn't suck! Granted, I probably won't ever do this sort of thing again, but I didn't suck. And I didn't cause anyone's eyes to water in pain, I didn't totally screw up and look like a dolt, and I didn't make a total fool of myself (I prefer to keep those moments personal and mostly private)

I got the giggles about 1/2 way home, when I realized that there was a professional opera dude in the congregation.

And I didn't suck!

A Joyful Noise

So, I'm singing (if you want to call it that) in the choir Friday night.

I was asked, and like the true dolt I am, I agreed. I'll muddle through it, somehow.

But I mentioned it at work last night. After the laughter died down, I was quizzed on the church part. As if it is inconceivable that I attend church. And would be welcomed there.

During the quizzing, I mentioned, also, that I am a licensed lay eucharistic minister. More laughter.

There are now people willing to pay admission to my church for Christmas eve service. Apparently, they think there will be lightning bolts and gnashing of teeth, possibly a miracle or three.

Whatever.

Snooty Susie, The Church Lady

Years ago, I left the church in my hometown. There were reasons, not the least of which is that I had, apparently, outlived my usefulness to them. Of course, my "bad attitude" and questioning of their motives for certain decisions was probably part of it. At first, they refused to allow the Toad to move forward away from being a little boy in his role during services; by the end, they were actively pursuing ways to condemn and chastise me (making some of the shit up, and yes, I could prove it) and to humiliate and repress him.

While there were some who didn't want to see us go (and whom I missed seeing weekly) there were others who, I'm fairly certain, did the Happy Dance when they heard that we'd left.

Snooty Susie was probably one of them. She & I didn't have problems, it was more of a low-level general mutual dislike.

This year at the Diocesan convention dinner, My Sweetie & I sat with my first Sunday School teachers from the local church and Snooty Susie. When we sat down, Snoots asked me how well I knew our Bishop. Since he's only been our Bishop 3 years, and their last priest really didn't like him (and most of those parishioners parroted whatever their attention whore priest said) she said it like she fully expected me to have nothing good to say about our Bishop.

Okay, so it's not just that, I don't generally like people much. And clergy get no special exemption in my graces, either.

I asked her what she meant by "know well" and she said, "Well, does he know your name?" as if there's no way he would (the prior Bishop didn't know my name, but he knew my face--and he always looked at me like he'd just stepped in something nasty when he saw me. No lie.)

I told her how many ways I'd met the current Bishop, and that he'd been to my house. My Sweetie confirms that, no, I wasn't being snooty or holier than her about it. I was simply telling a story about how I knew the man. Snoots looked like I'd slapped her.

HAH! Score one for me--I was being a grown up.

She Has Been Paying Attention!

Today at Sunday School, the lesson was about the "Saints of God." As in, any God-fearing Christian person who attempts to share the Word is a Saint of God.

During the discussion, of course, the children named our priest, deacon, the Toad, etc etc. The Howler names, specifically, her father. Good girl!

When asked if her mom teaches her about God also, she shrugs her shoulder and says, and I quote, "enh."

'nuf said.

Bible Quiz

So, once upon a loooooooooooooooong time ago, My Sweetie was on his church's Bible Quiz team. I believe him when he says it was because there were pretty girls on the team, because he certainly remembers very little scripture from it.

Recently, the Howler moved up to the next level of AWANAS. No more foolin' around! She needed a Bible, and we need to work with her on those verses. So, the former Bible Quiz Guy decided he would also begin reading the Bible.

He starts, of course, at the beginning. A few chapters into it, he announces that "all those begats and whose dad is whose is pretty boring. And hard to follow." Well, yeah. Why do you think I'm not also reading it? He also discovered that there are no guys in Genesis named Bob, but decided that any names he couldn't pronouce would be simplified into Bob and Bill and Biff. But I remember when I created a book of the Bible for the Toad called Inertiates, and made up verses, he said I was "so very wrong. Funny, but wrong." But he doesn't remember that Vince is a prominent figure in Inertiates, either.

Last night, though, he proved for once-and-for-all that the Howler's parents are really not the kind of people who should be helping the Howler understand the Bible: he sez, "You know, in the Old Testament, if a guy thinks he's not getting enough kids from one wife, or two, he just takes a few handmaids too."

I responded with, "So, you've made it as far as Jacob, then?"

He seemed a little surprised that I knew that much, since, as I stated before, I don't read the Bible, unless I have to. And I've never mentioned Jacob to him, so that must be part of the Black Hole that is my less-than-Christian accumulation of knowledge.

Then he tells me, "Yeah, and that guy Jacob would stick it in just about anybody."

There you have it: Bible Stories from Heathen Headquarters.

Finding Jesus

Yet again today, I got Jesus-ified.

For some reason, people I do not know (and in all honesty, have no desire to know) hand me Jesus tracts--the more I smile, the happier I am at work, the more likely it is that I will be given God's love in a convenient 4 paragraph package.

Today's message was about how kittens and puppies and babies love to be hugged. And God loves me! After being informed that said Jesus-ifiers were ducks, due to the rain, and after I declined the very polite offer to buy his umbrella for $40. (The most amazing part? I was INSIDE--not out in the rain, when the umbrella offer came.)

I do not understand the whole Jesus tract gig: are you obligated to hand them out only people who seem happy? When I am miserable, when there are flames shooting out orafice, when Satan himself is plaguing my every breath, these people and their messages of hugging kittens is nowhere to be found. When I could actually use these things, I don't get them. Is there a secret decoder ring necessary for figuring out the hows and whys of these things?

I remember once getting handed one in the ladies room while at work, too. I don't get how that was supposed to be helpful.

And now that I mention that...I recall the guy, 2 years ago, who gave me the one telling me I was going to Hell. I was happy and smiling that day, too.

Oh, I get it now. Never mind.

Another Rant

I know I spend waaaaay too much time thinking (okay, obsessing) on this, but another newsletter arrived today, and yet again, I am ASS. TOWN. DED. by the unadulterated assumption that I can't remember what's been said before...and that I can't put 1 good idea, and 1 bad decision together and come up with an answer.

This month's diatribe is not full of "every sneeze and dinner", thank God (prayer DO get answered!) but, it also mentions TWO amusement park trips AND the necessity to cut out all outreach because of a lack of funds.

Now, I realize I no longer belong to this parish. And I am fully aware that, since the former is true, there may be some nuance to the situation that I'm missing, but, it seems absolutely assinine to BRAG about one thing while lamenting the other. They're also a church who for YEARS (decades, really) could afford to send ALL the parish children who wanted to go to camp (with parents paying ONLY the registration fee--which is, this year, only $25), but this year, they can't afford to help anybody go.

That's like bragging you paid $500 for Penguin tickets, but crying the blues because your electric is shut off.

I don't think it takes a Nobel Prize winning thought process to figure out that if, as a church, you can't afford even the smallest on-going outreach (especially a local program you started!) you don't go out and rent buses and pay admissions for even small groups to go on rides and eat nachos and hot dogs. I can't fathom being able to justify RENTAL of carnival games--for an event that while it may raise community awareness of your church, it does not bring in any money--but it can't afford it's diocesan assessments (and is actually putting it's excuses in writing.)

Ass. Town. Ding.

At some point, somebody has to remember that in the past (around the time I left, btw), when the situation arose that there wasn't enough money to pay for the basics, it was time to evaluate WHY.

WHY is the parish priest promoting (and being allowed to promote) events that suck the treasure dry? WHY is this man running at the mouth about how desperately they need money, even to pay his salary, but money can be found for bus trips? WHY aren't these people more concerned over WHY it's congregation is NOT giving (and trying to alternately embarrass or extort money from them)? I assume they want to increase the fold so that these newbies will give them something for Fr. Attention Whore to put into his billfold.

Why am I so obsessed? Because this is a church with wonderful people. This is the church that, in spite of the crap, I still love. It hurts me to see something as beautiful, as spiritual, as this turned into a begging, whinging, money-grubbing prostitute.

It hurts to know that with each passing month, the fond memories I still have are overshadowed by Fr. Attention Whore.

It also makes me angry because he gives every one of the fellow churches a bad name--guilt by association, I'd call it.

It turns my stomach--and because we're all such polite Christians, I have to be mature enough to allow them to embarrass themselves for Fr. Attention Whore's sake if they want to.

Explain, Please

In the town where I live, there is a church I will not attend. I left several years ago, and no amount of begging, asking, demanding, backstabbing, or manipulating can get me to go back. (Okay, I've been back for a few services, due to time constraints, but I'll rather travel 40 minutes 1-way to attend the church I moved to, all those years ago.)

This church has, for it's reigning clergy, an attention whore. A man who loves the sound of his own voice, couldn't answer a pointed question honestly, and who has tried to manipulate my family into returning. He's an In-Yer-Face kind of guy. He's all about himself. He does nothing, in my opinion, by way of outreach that does not glorify himself.

I don't like him. (But, I don't make a secret of it either.)

Since the church I do travel 40 minutes one way to attend is the same flavor, and in the same regional collection (referred to as "the diocese") as this man's congregation, I do have occasional contact with him.

That occasional contact usually makes me wonder if I shouldn't find another church--farther away from him, or, at the very least, in a different flavor. (It's like finding out your arch-nemisis is the spokesmodel for your favorite brand of ice cream. Ugh)

Anyway, one of his modus-operandi within our little Christian world is his church's lack of funds, and therefore, his personal lack of funds.

Today, I received his newsletter--the one supposedly put together to have all our collective congregations communicating with each other. In it, there is usually 3-4 pages devoted to the 4 other churches together....and 3-4 pages devoted exclusively to promoting his own church (called "every sneeze and dinner" in my ever-so-eloquent vocabulary).

This month's In-Yer-Face blather has information stating that his church will provide "admission, transportation, and food" to Hershey Park, PA, for any of his congregation who can "earn 20 points" by doing things listed (among them, attending church, a parish sponsored dinner, and participating in various during-service capacities).

What I don't get is how he can stomp about the diocese, proclaiming a total lack of funds in his church--practically begging for everyone else to help foot their bills--and yet, they can cough up $30+ bucks for admission, a couple hundred dollars to rent a bus, PLUS the cost of food (food aint cheap in amusement parks). If a minimum of 30 people "earn" their way to "heaven-cum-Hershey", he and his church are looking at a bill upwards of $1000--even if they get a group discount.

The parish, as a whole cannot pay to have their roof fixed, pay their assessments, or to pay this man the required minimum salary, but they can afford to pay for this? How does that math work?

Weirdness Abounding

Today.

Of course, it means I was at work.

For no particular reason, a man walks up to me at the customer service desk and asks me if I'm familiar with Jesus' twelve disciples.

I said, "sure"

He asked if I knew what kind of car they'd be driving if they were here today. I was afraid to answer, because all I could think of was "circus clown car?" (as in, how many disciples can you fit in this car to win a spot in the Guiness Book of World Records)

Finally he said, "Well, it was in the Bible--are you sure you don't know?"

"I'm afraid to guess."

So he tells me:




Are you ready?












Have you figured it out yet?













A Honda. The disciples were all in one Accord.

Where's My Sharp Stick?

I am, as my Sweetie says, the "Queen of Pull-It-Ouch-Yer-Ass", and yet, sometimes, that just doesn't work.

I had a few things I needed to type up and have ready for church tomorrow (today? lol).

I put it off because I am lazy. I put it off because I am a procrastinator. I put it off because I am a glutton for punishment, and, Karma not withstanding, I like pain and humiliation.

Actually, I put it off because I just don't like doing it--and I'm lazy. My PIOYA skills have rarely failed me, and yet, I should have known I was due.

For some reason, I cannot print the last page I desperately need. I have 2 other things I need for tomorrow, but I can, if necessary, skate by on them and get them there later. Not good, but not exactly bad, either.

My Karma caught up with me.

My printer is not working. It says it has a communications error.

I'll be dammed before I start trying to pull things apart and start reconnecting them at 1:12am on Sunday morning.

I'm a glutton for punishment, but I'm not sick.

So what do I do instead? I come here to whine about it--mostly because no one else will listen to me whine (mostly because I don't listen to them whine, but really, how fair an attitude is that?)

I will go to church tomorrow AM, and hope for the best. Then, when we get home, I will find my sharp stick, and poke myself in the eye.

epiph·a·ny *

i-'pi-f&-nE
3 a (1) : a usually sudden manifestation or perception of the essential nature or meaning of something (2) : an intuitive grasp of reality through something (as an event) usually simple and striking (3) : an illuminating discovery, realization, or disclosure b : a revealing scene or moment


Much like the prophet Jonah, I am heading to my very own Nineveh. Lucky me. Usually, when threatened with being swallowed by the fish, it's because I need to do something that is a continuation of what I've already been doing, or it's stretching out into an unknown area, but one in which I already know I have the skills or the knowledge to accomplish it. It's generally just something I do not want to do.

This time, I'm being told that I need to do the cliche "Let Go; Let God."

It comes from having spent the last few years raising a teenager. It comes from my knowing, without a doubt, where he is to head--where he is to end up, what he is to do with his life. It comes after yet another instance of the boy's blatant stupidity, arrogance, and sheer determination to do the wrong thing.

On Friday, September 7, 2007, I had an epiphany. One that was so clear on intent and so vague on details.

I have to let the boy go. I have to stop trying to get through to him, I have to stop trying to teach him, reach him, better him, guide him...you name it. The only thing I am to continue in reference to him is to love him.

The epiphany went like this:

I got in the shower. I started thinking about the latest round of stupid.

I had a vision that was of the boy, in a church, being ordained to something. I was not in the picture--in any fashion. I was glimpsing this from the very back of a church, dimly.

Stepping out of the shower, I was crying. It was clear to me that whatever it is the boy is to accomplish, it is to be totally without me.

Basically, I saw God gently showing me to "sit down, shut up, and get out of My Way."

I choose to listen, although I'm sure God knows (better than even I do myself) how hard this is going to be for me. I have control freak tendencies, and I do have an inordinate amount of emotion attached to this boy.

And, said boy is being a total screw up.

For the last three days, I have been concentrating on NOT barking, shrieking, screaming, yelling, offering advice, giving instruction, trying to explain, asking for explainations...and it's killing me. So I am also, at the same time, concentrating on not clenching my jaw, neck, and back muscles. Mostly because that ends up being a physical manifestation of my emotional pain. Both of which are intensely stupefying.

I am comforted by the fact that I have peace with this. And that peace is how I know that this is, truly, what I'm supposed to do: If I get out of the way, the Toad will eventually cease being a Toad, and become the person he is intended to be. I need, to quote the cliche, to get my oar out of it, and let it ride.

Having a strong tendancy to be a control freak (and the obligatory being-nearly-always-right that goes with it) isn't helping him, or me, be who we are supposed to be. Or, if truth be known, continue to exist on the same plane with the other.

It will, I'm sure, prove to be the single hardest thing I've ever had to do.

*found at: http://www.m-w.com/dictionary/epiphany (Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary)

Postcards from the Pew

This was written for my church's newsletter. Postcards from the Pew is in lieu of a Pastor's letter to the congregation traditionally found in most parishes' newsletters.

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end. They are new ev’ry morning, new ev’ry morning. Great is thy faithfulness O Lord! Great is thy faithfulness.

The refrain from this song in the Come Celebrate songbook has been stuck in my head since last Saturday.

By now, I’m sure everyone has heard that the Rev Sean Rowe of Franklin, PA, was elected our next Bishop in one ballot.

I was struck, more than anything, that a large gathering of people who, for all intents and purposes have trouble agreeing on the smallest detail, could overwhelmingly agree so easily on who would be the 8th Bishop of the Diocese of NWPA.

I believed, especially after listening to the three nominees at the Walk About in DuBois on May 5, that the choice was clear. I was hesitant to express it because I felt so strongly that Fr. Sean was indeed who God was calling to lead this Diocese and that I would, in discussing it, be overly zealous (obnoxious and annoying). For me, it was as if a spotlight had been lit on a darkened stage.

After praying harder than ever, I remembered something I heard at Alpha: if you are ever unsure if the answer you believe you received is from God, ask yourself if it comes with peace. If it does, then it is from God, because God is peace, and He sends us peace.

Of course, I’m paraphrasing, but in all ways, the answer that seemed so clear left me feeling not only peace, but joy. How could that not be from God? I felt as I did when going to Cursillo in 1988 or to Vocare in 1996: nervous, alive, and full of joy.

Those things I know to be from God, so I have no doubt that the single ballot in deciding this election was not only the result of fervent and faithful prayer, it is, in all ways, the will of God.

To the words from Fr Sean: “Today is a great day in the Kingdom!” I would add a joyful “ALLELUIA!”

This is "Why I Don't Advertise"

I need to seriously vent on this one.

On a forum I frequent, someone mentioned that they had attended church, but their 3 year old just could not sit still.

Several people offered encouragement and suggestions for quiet toys and ways to help their 3 year old last the hour needed for the family to be able to stay through a service.

One genious seems to think that church is an all-adult activity and actually made fun of me for saying that the Howler, at 4 years old, participates in the service and especially enjoys helping with the collection.

First, let me explain.

We are a small church. There are, in regular attendees, about 28 people, including the Howler and the newest family of 3, which includes an almost-toddler. The Howler attended her first service there when she was 6 days old. She has, in her 4 years, missed perhaps a dozen Sunday services.

She knows the Our Father, she is learning many of the simpler hymns and knows the service--what order things come in. She kneels when we kneel and stands when we stand. She is not, however, "church mouse" material, and she does do some talking, and she does sing little made up songs about Jesus and God during service--she sings quietly, and she certainly isn't bothering anyone.

I can honestly say that the oldest member of our congregation (and easily one of the grumpiest people on the planet) misses her when she isn't there. This is a man who admits to not liking his own children and grandchildren when they were children.

Yet, this narrowminded know-it-all loudmouth thinks I attend a "weird church" because my daughter participates in the services as well as she can.

WTF? Jesus himself is quoted as saying, "Suffer the little children to come unto me." Does this Queen of the Dumbed think that he was misquoted?

I highly doubt I'm a model of Christianity, but doesn't her attitude totally go against what we're supposed to be as Christians? I take the Howler to church so that she can be exposed to some terrific and kind people--I'm not sure I'm up to standard needed to produce one myself. The Toad is more active than many adults would ever be, but that's because my sister started taking him (I was a slug and got dragged in reluctantly....discovered something and stayed) when he was 18 months old.

If I had waited until "he was old enough" I'd probably still be waiting.....and neither the boy nor I would have what we have.

I know this is just some judgemental nutjob, but it's still irritating. And it gives those of us who don't advertise, but do try to live up to the Christian name, a bad name.

"How I be my name"

The Howler has learned (is learning?) the Lord's Prayer.

When I first wanted to begin teaching it to her, she informed me, "No, Mommy. I'll freak out."

I countered with, "If you don't, I'll freak out."

She won with, "I'll freak out MORE."

But, for Daddy daddy daddy, she will learn it.

Are Fadder who art in heabeen how I be my name. Dye kingdom come I will be done. On earf as it is in heabeen. Gib us dis day are daily bread and forgib our sins as we forgib doze and lead us not into temptation but deliber us from ebil for because of duh power and the glory for ebber and ebber. Aymen.

Yes, folks, she can say "temptation" but can't say "thine"