Real Estate

Nature is so beautiful.  This morning, as I ate breakfast, I watched hummingbirds at the feeder, mallards in the pond, and a great blue heron swoop overhead.  I haven’t managed to kill the plants around my house yet, so I enjoyed looking at all of the blooms as I walked the dog. As I drove to church through the lakes, shore birds flew around as fishers tried their luck.

I realize I haven’t been blogging much lately.  My parents have had some life-changing health crises that have taken much of my time and energy.  There have been many things that I could have blogged about, since I am the only nearby child.  However, as much as these things have taken up real estate in my head, it somehow feels like an invasion of their privacy to write about the effects of their stuff on me. 

I’ve thought about a lot of things. General Conference.  The fact that being a woman in ministry still causes bumps in the road, even in this day and age.  Silly stuff my dog does.  Profound things my husband says. Watching my children grow into full adulthood.  There are times when a germ of a thought starts to sprout, and I begin to compose in my head or on paper.

And then the phone rings with another parental need, and any semi-readable thoughts I may have had skitter away as I shift back into a life of trying to help in a near-helpless situation that so many, many others have faced before.

In all of these things, I am so very grateful for the piece of the world that I am privileged to inhabit. The flowers bloom and the birds swoop overhead and I am reminded of the Creator who loves us enough to craft such world for us.  I am refreshed and renewed.  And thankful, even for times such as these.

The End of the Guarantee

It happened today.  One of the mainstays of the United Methodist system of deploying clergy, the guaranteed appointment, was ended.  Frankly, I’m not all that alarmed. I love what I do, I work hard at it, and some days, by the grace of God, I may actually be pretty good at it. 

But, in reality, which of us was not already only one phone call away from losing our appointment status?  “We are offering you a 12-point charge in Timbuktu.  Take it or leave it.”  The morning’s action to end the guarantee was followed by the afternoon’s action to implement a system of closely monitoring the ethnicity, gender, age, etc. of those persons who are not appointed.  Perhaps we will be better for naming, systematizing, and monitoring what had been happening informally for decades.

What I am missing, though, is a little context.

This General Conference began as one of Grand Ideas for the Bettering of Our Denomination.  There were plans to revise our structure, our episcopacy, and our ordination process.  The ending of the guarantee seemed like one piece of a larger, noble plan of widespread change and shared sacrifice.

At this point, every other Grand Idea has fallen victim to institutional inertia.  If the only major change that comes out of this General Conference is the ability to ditch clergy, then it begins to feel a smidge punitive. We cannot come together around any other strategy, or social issue, or even the ability to agree that we disagree- but we can vote to end the guarantee?  Yep, it feels like clergy are the only scapegoats we can agree on, and, to us sensitive types, it doesn’t feel good.

Make it count. Make this change part of a bigger picture, something that we can believe in and support and maybe be proud of.  Grab hold of one of the other Grand Ideas.  Be open to additional strategies for change. I want to be part of the solution, but I don’t want to be the only solution.

General Conference via Twitter

Watching the live streaming of General Conference and the attendant Twitter feed has become strangely addictive. It’s almost like being there, including feeling the frustration of watching people try to make “amendments-to-amendments” that are, in reality, simply the initial motion unamended. It is apparent that never before has there been this type of widespread instant sharing of thoughts and opinions by so many.

Here is what I am learning:

- The presence and power of young people (#gcyp) is magnified through Twitter in a way that will change the denomination.

- Anyone who considers themselves a “power broker” and yet isn’t tweeting isn’t a power broker for much longer.

- Tweeting is great for short pithy statements, or analogies to movies. (I’m loving the Hunger Games references!) It’s a wonderful way to show support for a person or a position. It is an entertaining way to follow the live action and giggle at some of the inanities that occur.

- However, it is a rare tweet that can offer a nuanced theological perspective in 140 characters or less. When those attempts fail, Twitter too often becomes a shouting match that adds nothing to the conversation.

- Finally, it appears that the #gc2012 hashtag is being used simultaneously by another organization. Each group must be having lots of “huh?” moments as random tweets show up.

 I am impressed at the power of connection that the Twitterverse is bringing to our General Conference. It’s one more tool that we are better for- when we use it well.

Anonymous but Known

Yesterday’s hospital visit was as joyous as the birth of a new baby. Someone has received a long-awaited kidney transplant! What a great joy, as the 28 months on the waiting list have culminated in successful surgery and the promise of renewed life.

And yet we were all aware that the joy in that hospital room is countered by sorrow in another hospital room. All we know about the donor is the approximate age and the cause of death; a heart attack in someone too young. We don’t know the gender, race, occupation, or anything else about the person whose kidney is giving new life in my friend.

In spite of the lack of factual information, I realize that I do know a lot about the donor. I know that he or she cared enough about other people to sign the organ donor side of their license plate. Perhaps she or he had not actually signed, but had lived life in such a way that the family members were able to say with confidence, “Yes, that’s what they would have wanted.” This was a person who lived life openly and honestly, so that the family would be able to make such a self-giving decision. This person knew that the body is just temporary housing, and that, when we’re done with it, it might help others. Even though their heart failed them, it was big enough to share other organs with many different people around the region. Their grieving family found, I pray, a glimmer of hope in knowing that their loved one was giving life to others.

If you haven’t signed the back of your driver’s license yet, do so. Make sure your family knows what you want. I saw a miracle yesterday in a hospital room, I really did.

Pedometer Thoughts

On the assumption that we pay attention to those things which we measure, our clergy health plan gives us cash rewards for wearing a pedometer. Although I objected initially (they know everything about my health care, now they want to know how far I walk?), I discovered something about myself. I can be bought. Each year, I receive several hundred dollars for wearing that thing, and so I wear it. This year, rather than take the cash option, I have chosen to take gift cards, so that I can point specifically to something that I gain as result of walking. I am enjoying the irony of using my health-plan-issued AMC gift card to sit in the dark for a few hours, snarfing down extra-buttery popcorn.

In spite of my hesitation, I have discovered that I truly do pay more attention and walk more. Over the years, I have a few observations:
1) I am so glad that they changed the logo and design on our pedometers. It was disconcerting to be at a clergy meeting and see all of these people with “VIRGIN” emblazoned on their waistbands.
2) My pedometer registers the fewest steps on the days that I travel across the state or across the country.
3) The best and easiest steps come from walking on the beach.
4) We should get double, triple, or even quadruple credit for steps taken to the pulpit, in the rain, or in a hospital corridor.

Handbaskets and Hope

Sometimes people look at the world and the young people of today, and they get all crabby and think things are well on their way to hell in a handbasket. But I see a beautiful, newly engaged young couple, with their eyes full of love and hope and great aspirations. I see 28 youth and their parents spending weeks preparing intensely to lead worship that will change lives of all ages.

And I think the hands that are holding the world’s handbasket will do just fine.

Prison

Yesterday was Jackson County Government Day with the Leadership Blue Springs group that I am a part of this year. Our morning began in the legislative chambers in downtown Kansas City, where we heard from some of the different folks who keep our county humming along. From there, it was just a short walk across the street to the Jackson County Detention Center. After sitting in a windowless classroom and hearing about the facilities, we walked through many different parts of the jail. As I walked past inmates, I couldn’t help but wonder what hope looks like to people who stay there. Even though the day was bitterly cold, it felt good to step outside. In one of those so-fast-your-head-spins transitions, our after lunch stop was Arrowhead Stadium, where we got a tour of some of the luxury boxes. We went from jail to the best seats in town in such a short period of time.

By the end of the day, my cold that had been brewing blossomed from annoying to full-fledged sickness. Today was a day spent at home, mostly in bed with blankets and Kleenex. Even as achy and slimy as I am, I think about where I was yesterday, and I am grateful to be where I am today.