Mine

Some of you know that I just returned from spending a week in Cape Cod with my family. One of the best parts of the trip for me was spending time with my 2 year-old nephew, Sam. I have to say that being an aunt is one of the greatest joys in my life. Sam is so precious, so wonderful. One night, my mom and I took Sam out to dinner so that my brother and sister-in-law could go out for dinner on their own. My mom and I took Sam out for dinner too – but after running around and playing and go-go-going in his new vacation home, a tuckered out Sam fell asleep before we even got to the restaurant. While we waited for our table, and for the first 10 or 15 minutes before our food arrived, I held a perfect sleeping Sam on my lap, and enjoyed all the smiles from staff and patrons admiring Sam’s sweet face. As I was holding him, I was just really overwhelmed with how much I adore Sam, and I was just thinking: “Sam is mine.” Mine. Not as in ownership, obviously, but as in connection. Deep, unbreakable bond. Relationship based on unconditional love.

Sam is not the only person I feel this way about, although he’s pretty darn special. I tend to feel this way about my parishioners too – I remember sitting at an elementary school graduation for some children in my first appointment, and watching as my church girls received award after award, and I was sitting there thinking, “they’re mine.” As the Conference Youth Coordinator for the North Central New York Annual Conference, I look at the young people I work with, and watch them leading worship, and speaking about God at work in their lives, and I think: “Mine.” Just this week I visited one of our church camps, Casowasco, and saw several “former youth” of mine who are now on staff at camp, becoming objects of inspiration to a whole set of young people on their own, and I just felt so happy seeing them in action, in ministry, and I thought, “They’re still mine.” As you may also know, our annual conference will soon be merged together with three other annual conferences in New York State. This June, just before I started at First United Church, I spent a week a training camp for youth from all four conferences. And after a week together, I left feeling like the number of youth who I count as “mine” had just quadrupled. I once baptized a woman a few days before she died from ALS, a most horrific disease. I didn’t know her very well at all – she was a friend of a friend of the congregation. But as I sat with her and said those words: “I baptize you,” I was thinking, “and so now you are mine.”

Mine. As I was thinking about that amazing bond that we can feel with others, imperfect though we are, I thought I was starting to understand, or at least get a better hint at how God feels about us. I think of my love for my nephew Sam, which is certainly one of the most powerful feelings I’ve experienced, and I can only imagine a bit of how much my brother and sister-in-law feel about Sam, their child, who they created, and who is, in every way, made from them, part of them, even while he is unique and all his own. How much, then, must God love us! I think of the chorus of one of my favorite songs from The Faith We Sing, called, “You are Mine,” by David Haas. “Do not be afraid, I am with you. I have called you each by name. Come and follow me, I will bring you home; I love you and you are mine.” God must look at us, and think, “Mine!” My beloved children. Created in my image. So unique. So wonderful. So precious. Mine. God must just treasure us.

Sometimes, we lose sight of that. We can’t see ourselves as God sees us, and/or can’t see one another as God sees. But if you can remember the love that swells inside you when you look into the eyes of your child, or grandchild, or niece or nephew, or godchild, or student, or friend – I hope you can catch a glimpse, a hint, of how beloved you are, knowing that you belong to God.

Harder Things

A couple of years ago, I wrote that the hardest thing in ministry was announcing to a congregation that you were moving on to a new appointment. I can now add a little bit to that: it's even harder to do when you're leaving quite a bit sooner than anyone (including yourself) anticipated, and when you have to share that you've requested the move yourself.

Today, it was announced at FLUMC that I will be moving back to the North Central New York Annual Conference, where I have maintained my membership while serving here in New Jersey. This move comes as a result of a lot of struggle, prayer, and discernment on my part. When I came to this appointment, I felt like I was being appointed to just the right place at just the right time, and I certainly don't think I was wrong about that. I've just been surprised to discover that my journey here will be much shorter than I first thought it would be, and that perhaps the plans I've had in mind for myself weren't the things God had planned for me. (Go figure! As a pastor, you'd think this part wouldn't be so surprising all the time....)

I've told folks here what I want to make very clear: my asking to move home is about just that - home and feeling a sense of homesickness for my family and conference. You don't have to know me for long to know that my family is extremely close-knit. For all our different interests and paths, we mostly live close together, and spend a lot of time together. New Jersey and Central New York aren't that far apart, but I very much miss, for example, getting to see my gorgeous nephew all the time:
What has been particularly wonderful is the graciousness that people show in the situations when you most need it. I've been dreading making this announcement. I knew it would be shocking to announce a move after just two years of ministry in an appointment. I knew people would be shocked, and expected that some people would be hurt by my news. But what I encountered today was just grace and understanding, which I needed very much. I guess everybody understands what it's like to want to go home, and I was greeted by so many kind words and wishes today, such a gift to me. As my SPRC chair was announcing the news (brand new in her role, poor woman!), I was thinking: "Hey, I'm holding myself together pretty well. Maybe I'll say a few words myself too." So I got up to speak after she was done, and immediately realized it was a bad move on my part, as a instantly started crying. Ah well. I'm still glad I added my own words from the heart. I've invited my folks here to relocate to CNY with me, but so far no takers.... ;)

So, in July, I will become the pastor at The First United Church of East Syracuse. This congregation is a blended United Methodist and Presbyterian Congregation, a congregation that came together because of a fire that burned the Methodist Church to the ground in the late 60s. Three days after the fire, the two congregation began worshipping together at the Presbyterian Church, and they've never gone back! When a new church home was built in the 1973, it was home to a united congregation. I have some learning ahead of me for sure, as I explore how blended congregations work and brush up on some Presbyterian history and polity, things we might have touched on in Church History in seminary but are sadly now forgotten! In a "small world" situation, Rev. Matt Labriola, a retired pastor here in my congregation in Franklin Lakes, co-officiated a wedding at First United a couple of years ago, so he and his wife have already been to my new appointment and even brought me a bulletin today from there time there. How strange!

Now that I've been through a pastoral transition, I think I have some better ideas about what to expect and a better sense of what I want to and can accomplish here before I go. I'm looking forward to my new appointment, and I'm looking forward to enjoying everything about my next months here in Franklin Lakes.

Nephew Cuteness Update

The latest cuteness from my 6-month old nephew, Sam:




What a doll he is! Sam makes everyone feel like a million bucks, because he's such a happy baby, and his face lights up for any new visitor, which is a great mood-booster. He always acts like he's just been waiting to see you! (Which, in my case of course, he has - who isn't waiting for a visit from Aunt Beth?)

My brother...

My brother, jockeystreet, appears to be blogging again. Check out the cute video of my nephew, too, from a few months back. Also exciting? Looks like Sam is going to be a lefty like his Aunt Beth. Left-handedness is, of course, a superior trait, a sign of genius. I'm not surprised.

New Nephew Cuteness

When I went to Central New York for Adjourned Session last weekend, I got to swing by my brother and sister-in-law's house, and see my gorgeous nephew Sam. Of course, I know you want to see some pictures:





Sam and Aunt Beth















Sam, looking too grown up at four months old.












Sam proving his grown-up status by bringing home fridge artwork already from daycare. He's talented, no?

The Long Goodbye

Sorry for the light blogging. I'm 9 days away from my move to New Jersey, and my calendar is jam packed with lunches and dinners with friends, family, and church folks. On the upside, I don't think I'll have to get my own food from now until I'm settled into New Jersey. I'm being treated to meals left and right, and having a good time spending time with loved ones.

The downside: This goodbye is very hard, and very long. On the 12th I sang a solo in worship - I usually sing a solo once a year for summer special music. I sang, "You are Mine," that beautiful song in The Faith We Sing. I was doing ok until the last verse when I realized people were crying, including my mother, who was there, and that did me in. And I hate crying in front of people.

This Sunday, the 19th, I celebrated three baptisms, the last three I will perform at St. Paul's. What a joy - celebrating baptisms - probably my favorite thing in ministry. I baptized my cousin's child (the picture is of him with my grandmother), and he dropped his pacifier into the baptismal font. My cousin said she'd have to keep it forever, since it is now clearly blessed in holy water. The choir director presented me with a blanket made in my favorite colors, since the choir director will be out of town on my last Sunday.

And all week I'm doing last things - last nursing home service, last meals with other parishioners who will be away this week, last administrative councils (ok - I didn't cry over that one.) My emotions are right under the surface, and honestly, I usually prefer to keep them down a bit farther than that!

At the same time, I head out tomorrow morning to spend a day in Franklin Lakes. Firsts, hellos: moving things into my office. Meetings with members of the staff and leaders of committees. First visit without being helped along in the day by my predecessor, who is now two months into his own new appointment. I'm really excited to be going - starting. I've been imagining what things will be like for months now, and I want to begin, dig in. There's so much hope in a new start, a new beginning, and it's almost like I'm starting a new school year, fresh packs of paper and all.

I've been blessed by thoughtful cards and notes from folks in both Franklin Lakes and Oneida. Folks in Oneida are writing to share memories of our four years together. Franklin Lakes members have been writing to wish me a speedy recovery, and to offer to help me get to know the town, take me to meals, settle me into the parsonage.

I know, oh faithful readers, you are probably tired of hearing about all this transition talk, but of course, this is virtually the only thing on my mind (besides the joy of getting to babysit my nephew this week.) Bear with me a bit longer!

My strategy, and a request for advice: In an effort to actually survive my last Sunday, I can't imagine referring in my sermon to the fact that it's my last Sunday. I think I'll preach just like it was any other Sunday. We're having a potluck following worship, and I think there will be time for goodbyes then. Does that seem sensible? Have you preached a last sermon somewhere? What did you say/do? How did you 'survive'?

Sam

Here's the latest of my nephew Sam, wearing a cute outfit I got him. Turns out I have a hard time maintaining my anti-consumeristic aspirations when it comes to Sam. Can you blame me?

The Cast: Day 5 of 42ish...hopefully...

Things I've learned in the first five days of being in my lovely bright orange cast:

- Using crutches is not nearly as easy as I thought it would be.
- My cat is scared of my crutches, but only when they are in use by me.
- Capri pants are my friend.
- I can still hold my nephew and my godson even with my cast, only it is trickier with my godson, since he just turned one, and moves, now, a lot faster than me.
- My church's hallways are longer than I thought they were.
- I have a whole new perspective on what it means to call something 'handicap accessible'. My church is accessible on each floor, though we have no elevator. But there is access from outside to each level, accessible bathrooms, etc. However, I've borrowed a wheelchair to use for getting around at church, and discovered glitches already - for example, our front doors don't unlock from the outside. You have to unlock the door by the office, and then unlock the main sanctuary doors from the inside. Problem: the door by the office is not accessible - it is two steps up. Hm. Also, the side aisles in the sanctuary are wide enough for a wheelchair, but just. How you get down the aisle without scraping your knuckles is a mystery to me. And this is something I will only be forced to think about for a very few weeks. Eye-opening.
- My mom is a life-saver. She's stayed at my house for the first few days. I hate having to be waited on, especially by my mom, since she's already racked up enough of waiting on her four kids her whole life, and it should now be her turn to be waited on, but I would have been in deep trouble without her here for these first few days. How does one pour a bowl of cereal and eat it in a different room from the kitchen with crutches? Answer: ask Mom for a bowl of cereal. She'll bring it to you. She went back home tonight for the first night and within 30 minutes of her leaving, I fell. I was trying to move from the crutches to the wheelchair so I could have my hands free, and before I even tried to sit down in the chair, I lost my balance and fell right over. Ouch! I think everything is OK, but of course, I called my mom for her advice. (Besides being a mom, she's a nurse, which is also handy.)
- My colleague Betsye Mowry, who is pastor at the other UMC in Oneida, called on me today. I think it was my first experience of being on the other side of a pastoral call. (I've had surgery twice before, at ages 12 and 17, but I wouldn't even let my mom but my name on the prayer list either of those times. Ironically, I'm very private usually about all that. A pastor's nightmare parishioner, right?) It was nice. Betsye is a neat person, and she's remembered exactly when my surgery was going to be since I told her about a month and a half ago.
- I promise not to blog *solely* about my cast for the rest of the summer ;)

Can't Be Helped: More Pictures of My Nephew

OK - I can't help it. I have more pictures of my nephew, Sam, that just have to be shared because he's too cute.

(His onesie is from the Farm Sanctuary that my brother loves. And, by the way, my brother has an excellent post up with his initial thoughts on fatherhood. Makes me a little teary.)

Festival of Homiletics Reflections: The Music, Tuesday Night

As I mentioned, I arrived a bit late and frazzled to the Festival of Homiletics because of the arrival of my nephew Sam on Monday. (Not that I'm complaining - and here's another fabulous picture of him, by the way.) I missed both Barbara Brown Taylor and Walter Brueggemann, among others, which was too bad - I've heard Barbara Brown Taylor - back in 2001 at a gathering of ministry fellows through The Fund for Theological Education (where I also heard Fred Craddock). I've only read Brueggemann. Oh well.

The first thing I was in time to hear? A concert given by four singer/songwriters. I hadn't heard of any of them, and that's because they are primarily successful as songwriters - those who crafted the tunes that we know and love for other artists. We heard Marcus Hummon, Allen Shamblin, Kyle Matthews, and Beth Nielsen Chapman. Hummon, for example, wrote "God Bless the Broken Road," also "Ready to Run" for the Dixie Chicks, and Shamblin wrote one of my favorite songs ever, Bonnie Raitt's "I Can't Make You Love Me."

What a perfect first event to attend. The music was so excellent, moving, relaxing, mellowing, reflective. I really enjoyed it. I enjoyed hearing about the writing process, the courage it took for them to move to Nashville to pursue their dreams, what it is like to have others sings your songs and be famous for them. I enjoyed the way they seemed to respect each other, and how they worked together and improvised with each other. They shared how they saw their faith expressed in their music - sermons in words. Hummon is married to a clergywoman, and I especially like this song of his, "Stand Up (Song for Jesus)":

You’re battered and blue

He drinks and you pray

You cringe in the corner

But you're still in his way

You oughtta run like hell

But you always stay...

Stand up Stand up

You're out on the street

And you're only fifteen

You oughtta be dancin'

Bright homecoming queen

But you sleep in the alley

And you cry in your dreams...

Stand up Stand up

You learn to speak English

So you can explain

That you need the job

For the money to pay

To bring a hungry family

'Cross the border someday

To this town and these streets

That your ancestors paved, Oh...

Stand up Stand up

Now, I know a poor man

from an occupied nation

He was trained as a carpenter

But he lost all his patience for it

He believed that the truth

Was the chosen vocation

Still they hung him like a criminal

Despite the adoration

Of the invisible masses

Who forgetting their station

Believed in a God

Who loves all creation...

Stand up Stand up...

I had a great week in Nashville - I have many more sets of reflections to come. But I also just enjoyed being in Nashville. I've been to Nashville for meetings before, but this was the first time I actually got to just be in Nashville and walk around and see things. I really got a better sense for the community of artists and musicians struggling and/or succeeding in the industry. I like the city. Still couldn't ever see myself living in the South, but maybe if I did, it would be in Nashville.

Lots more to come...

OK - and one (two!) more picture(s) of Sam (with me, self-portrait, courtesy my cell phone).

I'm an Aunt!

I'm an aunt! My brother, jockeystreet, is a father. My nephew, Samuel Allen Thompson, was born at 5:24pm on Monday, May 21st. He weighs 8lbs, 14oz. And, of course, he is perfect and gorgeous. Monday was a long day, and he gave his mom a hard time, but everybody is in good shape and safe and sound. We're already a very close family, and this has been an awesome event for all of us. My mother, a new grandmother, is just ecstatic, and looks at pictures of Sam constantly (if she can't actually be with Sam.)

I'm currently in Nashville at the Festival of Homiletics, having a fantastic time, which I will blog about eventually. I've seen Jay and Gavin, and hopefully I will eventually get my act together to find some RevGals - I came in a day late because of Sam's birth, and have been playing catch up since, but everything here has been wonderfully worth it too.