I don't like going to church.

There, I said it.

I'm working very hard right now to figure out if I don't like going to the church we belong to, if it is being a parishioner, or if my frustration stems from trying to worship with three children.

A few weeks ago I sat in on a seminar aimed at creating a child loving church.  There were good reminders.
+ clean, safe nursery
+signs at kid level
+activity bags
+tables in fellowship hall for kids
+budget for new children's books
Lots of solid ideas.  Many congregations fall behind, some excel, most settle somewhere in the middle.  I've always been apart of those congregations that fall somewhere in the middle. Solid places with room for improvement.

While I believe most people in congregations mean to love children, I think they really love children as a means to attract their parents.

Which leads me back to my worship apathy.  While I can never fully discount my unhappiness of not being the one planning and leading worship, I've been out of the "loop" for seven years now.  I made peace with the pew a few years ago. 

One of the many things I will take from this time as a full time parishioner is that it is a lot of work to worship with children.  I don't mean that in a whiny, "my kids just don't behave" way.  I mean it is a lot of work to fulfill the promises I made at my children's baptism, experience any amount of spiritual renewal or prayer for my own faith life, AND keep the kiddos from becoming too loud and disruptive.

In the notes a friend and I were taking at the child loving church seminar I wrote, "child loving vs. child centered?"  It seems to me we are a child centered culture and at some point we the congregation have the responsibility to model the body of Christ--where not one part is more important than the other.  I want to walk the balance between teaching my children to worship (so they stay with me during worship) while actually getting something from worship myself (sending them to the nursery).  I want to walk the line between helping them love worship (making it fun) and teaching them how to behave while in worship (basic discipline and education on what I expect).

On any given week I will participate in one hymn and communion.  The rest of the time I will be out of the sanctuary, walking the halls with LP or taking EG to the bathroom or taking one of them out for a reminder on how to behave.  For six years I have been fairly happy to do this, telling myself it is a long process to teach a child how worship works.  (and that sitting still for 60 plus minutes isn't really developmentally appropriate).

This is hard to write without more specifics, but I don't want to be too critical of my congregation.

But at some point I realized that I really dreaded going to worship.  I dreaded finding the right outfit to wear.  I dreaded having my kid's clothes clean and ironed.  I wasn't interested in the fight to get them to wear church clothes.  I became angry at the constant cries about not liking church (BB).  I rolled my eyes at yet another piece of the liturgy I couldn't see the point to.  I was eager to leave during yet another sermon that fell flat. I never got to pray or have a moment of silence because the kids needed to be corrected or taught.  I uttered the words, "I just don't see the point."  I became one of those people who said, "I didn't get anything from worship." 

Here's where life in my head gets complicated...
+All the while knowing it wasn't all about me and my feelings.
+Fully aware that worship could be done better.  But yet not wanting to undermine colleagues.
+Overcome with loyalty to a place and a group of people I joined.
+Frustrated that others, for whom faith isn't as much of a 'given', were probably feeling the same way...and they weren't hanging in there.  They were leaving.

As a parent of a small children, I have a few changes that could be made within my congregation's worship to help out my experience, but it hit me today that what my children really need is for worship to be so nourishing that their parents have to come.  Whatever worship offers it has to overcome the dull roar of small children, sleep deprivation and a weekly to do list.  It has to be more than what I can get from a conversation with a friend at Starbucks.  It has to give me more energy and drive than a 6 mile run will.  It needs to unite me to something larger than my favorite sports team or my immediate family's needs.

It isn't that we shouldn't look at the church from the eyes of a child or welcome the children, but sometimes I think we get lost and only serve to mirror back the parent's worship of their child verses a united faith community loving God and serving each other.

I don't like going to church.

Feeling this way makes me tired and cranky.  Because I've been to good church in my life time.  (borrowing a phrase from my brief stint down south).  I've heard sermons so rich and meaty that I am still digesting them.  The bread and wine of God's grace always fulfills God's promise...week in, week out, regardless of my mood.  I know all of this.  I also know too many others don't know what they are missing nor do many know what they could have.

I don't really know what to do about it.  Except wait.  Wait for two more weeks--when I worship as a pastor, with no children.  But that answer doesn't seem very satisfying.

Happy Birthday! (with food as his theme)

My husband saw the Cafe Latte Turtle Cake in the Midwest Living magazine and requested it for his birthday.  We are adding flank steak, a caesar salad and twice baked potatoes to the meal.  Happy Birthday my love-we will all enjoy your day!

The Letter 'J'

The letter 'J' was made for LP.  His room as a loose theme of crayons (the melted canvas was made for his room, too.)  The other two letters were created a few months ago...

Accomplished

I was suppose to be baking a cake for my husband's birthday but instead I created a new banner for the blog.  Thank you Clover Lane...I am quite pleased with my first attempt and having this knowledge is great fun!

There are tweaks remaining on the blog..mostly color related but it can become my whole world as I obsess over details.  Judging from the laundry and to do list today...I need to let it go for the rest of the day.

Watch for cake photos later in the day.  (blogging has a certain accountability to it that I need.)

Actually, a Work in Progress

I'm going to try to change up the blog this week.  It never looks quite "right" to me...

Fantastically fun; Not an Option

I have always rubbed my head in bewilderment when people forget to eat a meal.  "Oh, gosh I forgot to eat lunch..."  Usually the body weight of the person uttering this foreign language mirrors the fact they forget to eat on a somewhat regular basis.

I am not one of these people.  Never have been.  Even with kids' meals to make and errands to run and sermons to write and bulletin announcements to submit and house work to do, I never forget to eat.  Some people have commented that child number two did it to them, or maybe it was third one.  They just got going at such a pace that stopping to eat became a luxury.  Not I.  Three kids later and my calorie intake is doing just fine.

Until Monday.  Monday I found the magic number of kids I need in order to become one of Those Women.

Monday I didn't eat lunch.  It took five kids under six to make this possible.

And I promise you, as fantastically fun as it was*, this is not a diet plan that will get real traction in my life.
But, nevertheless good to know.  

*and it was.

Messy Mondays: The Clothes Boxes

We moved 5 large Rubbermaid boxes, each full of my clothing.  Full.  Over flowing, full.  And when use 'we' I mean 'my husband' lifted them in and out of the truck.  Then he carried them up to our bed room where they have sat for two months.

I can justify every piece of clothing in there, while only being able to wear (either due to size or appropriateness) about 3 pairs of pants and 10 tops.  (this does not include the various t-shirts and lounge wear/pajamas that I tend to live in).

The problem with these boxes is that they contain the core of my issues--from this vortex nearly every mental health dilemma I have can be identified.

Test the theory.  I have.

My husband has played the game of "Pick up an Item, Any Item " and I dare you to watch my reaction.  Tears.  Yelling.  Hysterical laughter.  A mixture of both.

Now to add insult to injury the boxes sit upstairs in our bedroom as a daily reminder of "things not dealt with in a timely manner."  (and by timely manner, I mean 10 to 15 years)

I told myself I'd deal with this in October...March is coming, I guess I better put my big girl pants on and prepare to face the stranglehold my clothes have on me.

But first I need a good night's rest...and the season finale of Downton Abby.

Saturday 9:20pm Transfiguration Sunday Year B

The (final) product--more or less of what will be preached tomorrow.  The ending never gelled.
I did give it a try to aim at 1,000 words. It ended up around 1,600 which ended up to be about one page (or perhaps 300 words) shorter than my normal sermons appear.  In the end I think I needed less words in some spots and more in others.

Blogging this week helped me break a few preaching habits/crutches, but it certainly didn't make for interesting reading.  -grin-

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From just about the first day of our lives be are working to master the next stage…we look to the people about us and begin to try to get our muscles to do what they are doing.  Cooing, crying, grabbing, kicking…a crawl there, a step forward, a fork full of carrots, a drink from a cap-less cup..slowly we meet milestones.  At some point we begin to work on bigger plans…reading a chapter book, driving a car, having the nerve to ask that special person on a date, our first interview for a job, graduating from college, finding a long term career or honing our skills and interest…somewhere along the way we all branch off in to various interests and our goals become as unique and varied as we are.  No one plan or set of goals measures what is a fulfilled life…but I think for many of us we can agree that life as you are living it never quite feels like how you imagined it would.

Friday.

Hasn't this been the best week of blog entries...EVER?!  Yeah, I've enjoyed it as well.

I thought it might work.  Might inspire me a bit...and in reality it has, but I haven't written drafts like I meant to.  Life always gets in the way.  This week was no exception.  Plus I found Downton Abby.  That was the real death of me.  Fuel my perfectionist driven, procrastination fire.

I think I am on to a direction and after I take BB to find a birthday gift for the party tomorrow (my first time at Chucky Cheese--so excited.) I will come right home and feed LP and sit down and start writing.

I will.

I really will.

Thursday Sermon Preparation: Transfiguration Year B

Thursday.  The day I begin to fear I will have nothing to preach and my procrastination really kicks in.

Wednesday Late Night Edition

And then there are days that the only thoughts are jumbled ones. I had hoped to read and make more notes today.  Haven't had the time or ability.  Here's hoping Thursday is productive.

Wednesday Sermon Prep for Transfiguration Year B

I fell asleep contemplating the image of a shining mountain rising out of the news of our day.  The dreadful stories and harsh images that bombard the Today show.  The editorials and cowardly anonymous comments on news websites and even personal blogs.  Rising up out of all of this what is our shining mountain?
Where do we see lives transfigured by faith, by hope, by charity...the hands of God in Christ? 
Whatever comes to mind--a neighbors helping one another, friends bringing food, a congregation gathering to mourn, honest conversation--can seem so puny in comparison to the sheer weight and volume of the reported cesspool of "news."
Is it me?  Why is it so hard to paint an image of the bright mountain that bears equal, or hopefully more conquering, status to the valley?
Perhaps because Easter is the only answer.  And to get to that mountain the path winds through great agony and death....
It is the Yet/And to our lives.  We have been gifted with the ultimate out come of Easter, and yet we have not yet come to that final chapter in our earthly story.  We carry the grief, the wounds, the traumatic stress that make up our story...
"They kept the matter to themselves questioning what this rising from the dead could mean." Indeed.

(My writing style and vocabulary could possibly reflect two hours worth of Downton Abby.  I've just begun to watch, what is sure to become, my newest addiction.)

Tuesday...the late night edition

I read....this commentary, and this one.  And this one (who I have never read before) started some thoughts...
Then I realized I may not have read anything by Alyce McKenzie but I have heard her speak.  She was at a emerging church (non) conference I attended a few years ago.  Don't read her bio too late at night as she will make you even more tired and wonder just what exactly you have been doing with your time.
(eating heart shaped brownies and watching Downton Abby as I read commentaries...would be my answer.)

I'm going to take her advice and go up to bed.  Pray. Sleep.  Start the day all over again and see what tomorrow brings.


( I should also say that the preacher this morning picked up many themes from Dr. Kline's commentary--or at least I saw common ideas.)

Tuesday Sermon Preparations

I attended the conference leaders meeting this morning.  The worship service was created for the upcoming Sunday and the preacher used this coming Sunday's text.  I found this nice of him as I think it is often created around the previous Sunday's text.  (so as not to have to rewrite a whole new sermon)
I said I wasn't going to read anyone else's sermon, I did end up hearing one.  That's ok, right?

He focused on the conflict between the disciples as they came back down the hill.  He created a conversation between three disciples--labeling each argument as focused on the "past/tradition,"  "present," and "future" of the church.  He went somewhere with that piece and ended at Jesus gifting each of us and being with us where we are, etc.  I had to leave as LP was trying to give his own sermon.

Later in the day I read...

Monday: Sermon Prep Transfiguration Year B

I start by going to these two websites:  Text Week  and Working Preacher.

After having written down the scripture texts assigned for the Sunday, I go find my Bible.

After having read the texts a first time I jot down notes in my notebook.  I wish I could say I got more written down but LP wasn't too interested in letting me type while he played.
2 Kings--I felt the grief of leaving, change...
Psalm--?eh.
2 Corinthians--Dig in a bit more.  Must be way to unpack that isn't so 'us' and 'them' in regards to what we would call "unchurched" etc.
Mark 9--Yep.  Preached this Sunday every year for the last 4 years.

Part of the challenges with my current preaching schedule is that I often preach the same texts each year.  The congregation has heard ALL I have to say about Transfiguration and then hasn't heard me preach on any of the Sundays surrounding this one.

The working preacher podcast confirmed that I have covered the major topics--people wanting to stay put in glory on top of the mountain, while God has us follow back down to the realty of life.  God comes down to us.  The bookends of Transfiguration and Good Grief (beginning and end of Lent) take place on a mountain top.

Tomorrow I need to listen to the podcast again.  Then will begin reading a few commentaries.

I am trying very hard not to read anyone else's sermon before I have some more thoughts of my own.

Sermon Prep: Transfiguration Year B

This week I will be preparing for a sermon.  Over the past years my habitat has become one of late Saturday night writing.  As the clock ticks on towards Sunday morning I always kick myself for not preparing ahead of time or working harder.  One thing that always comes back to me is the oppressive nature of the blank page.  "If I would just start writing..."  I know that any words--good, bad, or ugly--start the process towards a completed sermon.  So why not start writing down those words a few hours before Saturday night? 

This is the novel idea you get to watch unfold this week.  Combining two goals, I plan to starting writing and documenting my preparation in blog entries over the course of this week.

Hinting at next project...

Crayon Canvas

I loved this melted crayon canvas when I first saw it on Pinterest.  Seemed easy and perfect for a kid's room. Then I saw it everywhere on the internet and started to reconsider my decision.

Tuesday morning I had the time to get started so I went for it...

It was great fun to make.  The melting was easy with my embossing gun.  Every so often a great big pocket of wax would melt from within the paper wrapper and come gushing down the canvas.  Watching the droplets of wax slide down the canvas was oddly therapeutic.  I loved it.  Most of all I love having an idea and then finishing it.

yah, but....

it isn't all about me.  This is what I want to tell myself especially after yesterday's post.  Or at least say out loud so that others know that I know.

It comes up in conversation all the time; how some part of life isn't meeting a need.  A restaurant meal, a small group, a child's dance class, a boss' meeting.  No where is this more apparent than in our churches.  It is the anxious aunt hanging around our church potluck.  She whispers into the ear of every church worker,"You aren't meeting their needs and they are going to LEAVE you."  This fear fuels much of our ministry.

I don't want to be someone who stomps her feet and leaves the party because they weren't serving food I like.  I really don't.

I also want to be called into community.  I know full well that it isn't all about me and I want to have the needs of the greater world shape my days and to-do list.  I want to model this for people and encourage others to join in.

So, again I am struggling to find the "just right."  When is my reaction to a group or event, a self centered whine, and when is it appropriate use of time?

Too much. Too litte.

Where's the 'just right' in life?
EG has been studying the story Goldilocks and the Three Bears at school.  If you ask her, she will repeat the entire story for you.  After a weekend of traveling with her, and only her, I know the story well.
It is the human search for those people, places and moments that are 'just right.'

I took EG with me on my trip back home.  I was there for my seminary class reunion and to see some family and to just get away.  The three days held a bit of each...not enough of any, but some of each.

At seminary I didn't fully re-enter to the world of theological smart talk.  Nor could I help but snicker at the ways leaders talk about their parishioners.  Comments such as "giving her permission to live her passion" and "helping them understand the richness of God's gifts" take awhile to adjust to, especially when you are just pursuing note cards and pouring coffee.  Some of it is regional, as pastors strive to impress each other while back at the mother ship seminary or are so steeped in being the predominate denomination that they are never shaken out of their reality.

Because my reality is much more one of 'parishioner' than 'leader.'  At seminary I am much more one of "them," than "us."

Today is Tuesday and I am able to write this blog entry because I am taking a break from a small group I have been apart of for six years.

I can cite a busy schedule, or LP's nap schedule or the new house projects, but really it is because they aren't theologically minded enough.  Try as I might, I can't get the conversation to dig deeper into anyone's experience.  Nor can I engage them in conversation that pushes us to think about God's presence in our life in a deeper more rich way.  On any given Tuesday the conversation only goes as deep as "God is great, pass the coffee cake, please."

Within this group I am primarily a Mom, but I am also known as a pastor.  I'm not their pastor, but the role and call remains present in every interaction.  Whenever a question about church or the Bible comes up most eyes look to me.  My thoughts stop the flow of conversation as if they are the end all of observation.  And then, my insistence of returning to solid theology or a systematic approach to our relationship with God is met with silence.  No one really cares too much about what I know or how I think.  Here I am "them" to their "us."

So here I sit thinking on one hand, "no one in the pew talks like this and most churches aren't meeting our needs," and on the other "this group really isn't asking for more from the church or trying to dig deeper into their faith, the church needs to do more to help shape this..."

But I just want to work in my craft room.

It's 'Take your Daughter to a Theological Conference Weekend'

It's not a national holiday, but it is in our family.  I'll be back soon.