I've been meaning to put up some photos from vacation. These are not in chronological order. Click to enlarge, if you so desire. You can see a bunch more if you click the Flickr stream to the left.
Playing around with long exposures:
After mostly taking the summer off from church, I was there yesterday. The boys were singing. The senior bishop was visiting. I was ambivalent to begin with, now even more so.
The bishop(s) has been getting more involved - which is mostly good, I guess.
For a bishop visit, it was not a spectacular turnout. There were whole pews empty. The combined choirs were down about about a third.
Before the service began, the bishop talked about how wonderful it was to meet with a group of newcomers to the parish before the service (even amid the tumult, there are a handful of new families). He said he's be around to mingle for a short bit after the service, but then had some meetings with the staff in the early afternoon before attending to dicocesan duties.
The service started, and when it came to sermon time, the bishop said some interesting things. He wanted to thank us for always paying our diocesan assessment.
Then he went on talk about how living in a community is to be forgiving, constantly, and we all know what it means to live in a community, espeically our parish.
I was rather floored at all of it.
First, where were the meetings with the members of the parish who have started to drop away? Where is the outreach? Has the parish and diocesan heirarchy just given up and sees that group as a lost cause? In a time when the Episcopal church as a whole is losing members, should they be so cavalier about membership? The rector has yet to reach out to a single parish member that has fallen away, so I guess I can't expect the bishop to do so. Thing is, with all the people the rector has alienated and/or fired, he probably doesn't even know who is missing.
Second, we can't afford to pay our diocesan assesment this year. The church budget is very much in the red.
Third, while I agree with the discussion about forgiveness and the need to forgive, it leaves out the important other side: that those in the community must recignize that they are not perfect and in fact need forgiveness from others. The sermon was wholly one-sided in that respect.
None of us are perfect, and I've made plenty of mistakes in my life, and in this church saga. I've overstepped a couple of boundaries, pushed some people a little too far. But the other side of the church saga - the rector, R - has yet to admit to a single mistake in how he has done things in the last 15 months. He has yet to take any responsibility for the dwindling attendance. While the bishop wants me to forgive R, R doesn't even recognize that he needs any forgiveness. It was weird.
I talked with a woman afterward during coffee who is just coming to the realization that things are off, way off. I tried to be very careful in what I said to her, not to sway her one way or the other. She talked about how many people are missing, things like that. I had to be even more careful with my words when the rector's wife kept positioning herself near us (we'd move, she'd move, too). I suspect we'll we talking again soon.
I wanted to believe that I could somehow make a difference by speaking up, but I'm feeling more and more thwarted and pushed down and dismissed. It seems to me collars are doing everything they can to protect collars. It's the patriarchal structure at its strongest.
It's extremely disheartening.
The only thing worse than having a stupid president is, I think, having a president who thinks I'm stupid.
Unlike many people, I don't believe GWB is inherently stupid. He's stupid about some things, yes, but there's a brain in there somewhere. I think he's chosen to use that brain to pull more than a few things over on the American public, shrouding his very bad choices, mistakes, and shrewd, self-promoting and self-enriching strategies in a folksy demeanor, claiming, "Hey, I'm just like you!" But he's not like you or me or most of us; he's a rich frat boy run amok, using his old-boy network (and I mean that in the very worst sense) to play a game that has very real and serious consequences for the rest of us. He thinks he's better than all of us, that standards and rules and laws don't apply to him. He thinks we're stupid; he thinks with a few jokes he can get away with it.
And he has.
I would not be surprised if the following quote attributed to HL Menken is framed prominently in GWB's private office:
"No one ever went broke underestimating the intelligence of the American people. People can easily be persuaded to accept the most inferior ideas or useless products. "
-H. L. Mencken, 1880–1956
Yes, America, this is what your president and his political party thinks of you.
They think they can talk down to you, and you won't notice. They think you won't notice that their buddies are getting richer by the moment while people around you are losing their jobs and their homes and they claim there's no recession. In light of that, they think they can present you with a candidate who freely admits economic theory is a weakness and it'll be fine, really. It just doesn't matter that he doesn't know the GNP from the GDP.
They think they can call themselves the "family values" party while the two halves of their presidential ticket embody the poor moral choices they wag their fingers at. Infidelity? Check! Drug abuse? Check! Unwed teen mother? Check! Questionable ethics in both business and government? Check and check! Apparently while they wag their fingers with one hand, the other hand is behind their backs, with crossies.
They think we won't notice - or worse, won't care - that they are completely hypocritical. They question the qualifications of opponents while their own candidate doesn't even meet those same qualifications, then try to claim double-standards are in play. Seriously, folks, if you put the Alaskan Hockey Mom's "qualifications" next to a man's name, they would have been laughed back to the farthest ice floes of that state. Note to party hierarchy: You might have had a shred of credibility in claiming double-standard if your female candidate had more qualifications than a male candidate. But she doesn't. And you think the American public just won't notice that.
They think they are being historic and avant-garde by even offering a female on the ticket of a major political party. Geraldine Ferraro, in 1984, had more political experience and more national political experience. They think we don't know history.
They think America is so biased and racist that we won't vote for a candidate of color just because of color, or because of perceived religious affiliation, and they will subtly promote ideas to that end; they play to irrational and unfounded fears. They think that women can't think for themselves, that we are too clouded by the effect of estrogen, and that we'll vote for a candidate just because she has some, too. They think we won't see past the ploys and the late night conversations that included, "Think we can get away with it?" They think that we'll get bogged down by words and fabricated offense and not hear the issues.
The really sad thing is, they might be right.
But, despite all the condescension, hypocrisy, and double-standards, I believe - wholly - that we are better than this. We as a country and we as a people are better than this. And we deserve better than this.
We can see through this. We can.
We can say no to the games and the bullying. We can call them on their condescension, hypocrisy, and double-standards. Call them on their racism and sexism and religious bias.
We can vote for the candidate and running mate, who, based on a set of qualifications, ideals, and background, will lead us forward. Single issue voting has no place here, and don't let anyone tell you it does. Prove them wrong.
Perhaps no one ever went broke underestimating the intelligence of the American people, but no one ever made our country and the world a better place with such underestimation, either.
I'm feeling political and ornery lately. This will result in some political posts, some of which will be rather partisan. If you don't like that sort of thing, consider yourself warned.
I went to a meeting last night about a pilot project started just this year to address the needs of high-end learners. I had heard rumblings about this project since I went to a meeting last December of some parents who have been concerned that the needs of their kids were not being met. (I alluded to the meeting here. I was shut out of later conversations with this group because I didn't agree with the straight acceleration goal these parents were seeking at the time - and I was laid off shortly afterward and somewhat preoccupied. Also the mother of the kid in this hat incident was involved and I really have trouble dealing with her for reasons above and beyond that hat incident.)
I've had concerns about M and keeping him engaged in school and the learning process. He gets bored with school-work easily and I've worked with his (young, inexperienced and somewhat floundering) teachers the last couple of years to supplement what he is doing in school to keep him engaged in the process. As such, he's doing math several levels above his grade, and reading close to his brother's level (which is already above grade level). It's something I constantly have to keep antenna tuned to. And this is in stark contrast to C, who has had majority excellent, experienced teachers (save one) whom I have felt have addressed his needs well and kept him challenged.
For this pilot program, kids in grade three, four, and five were identified as kids that needed more distinct differentiation of instruction. The kids have been clustered in classrooms, and the teachers received training on how to address their needs within the curriculum. The kids are not pulled out or identified to the rest of the class. The vision for the program is that although a set of very high-end learners will be clustered in one class, more teachers will receive training on differentiated instruction and will be able to apply those skills in all classrooms for the kids at all learning levels. So even if your kid isn't one of the identified cluster, he or she will still get a boost as appropriate to his or her needs. That's the plan anyway. At any rate, right now there are only 14 kids total in clusters over three grades, out of about 800 students total.
M is not in the cluster. Of course I'm disappointed, but then again, I have to be realistic. As a pilot, the program was intended to grab the top 2-3% of kids - up to 8 per grade - and M is in the largest class our school system has ever seen. And although I think my kid is very smart ("He's a genius!"), if I have to question at all whether such a program is right, it's not for him right now.
As an example of the kids they are trying to identify right now: When I was in elementary school, I was in a pull-out independent study program. There were 8 in the classroom. We were all the straight-A, quick on the uptake kids. But there was one among us that was beyond what the remaining 7 of were, and obviously so. Once, when presenting our term projects to one another, this kid's project was to build a model rocket that flew higher than a certain brand of commercial model rocket. When asked how he would know whether his rocket was better, he responded, "Oh, simple trigonometry," and proceeded to write out all the equations that supported his method. THAT'S the kind of kid this pilot program is trying to identify and assist.
That said, I don't think M - and other kids - had a fair chance at evaluation. The rubric used is, unfortunately, flawed in that the relative experience (or inexperience) and understanding of the teachers that evaluated the kids cannot removed. M has had teachers the last few years who are just trying to keep their heads above water in the classroom - lots of potential, but new and inexperienced - but that experience and confidence for them limits some of their abilities to differentiate those way up and out there kids as being just that, up and out there, versus behavioral challenges in the classroom because of their boredom. Was M not looked at properly because I've done so much beyond the curriculum to keep him engaged? Did I hurt the process by being so proactive?
Then again, I don't think parents should have been involved in the identification process, either. If the teachers have a difficult time with subjectivity, the parents will have double the problem. We all think the best of our children. They are all brilliant and gifted. It's the nature of parenthood to believe that about our children But do they all belong in this pilot? No. That's a tough pill to swallow, even for me.
If you could have heard the vitriol last night, you'd have been shocked. There were parents who could hear no good in what is happening, could not fathom how it will benefit all the kids. There were parents who claimed this was the schools telling them they are bad parents for not advocating in a certain way for their kids (please check your martyr complex at the door next time). There was a guy grumbling about how we shouldn't do anything new until standardized test scores stabilize (don't get me started on that and the teaching to the tests mentality). The principal of the school, whom I like very much, was getting battered.
There have been emails flying around town - which I thankfully haven't seen (it's an advantage to not be a joiner sometimes). People were prepared to tear the program down completely. It was shameful, really.
There were musings on what this would do to the school budget (it's been funded by grants so far), and how would we justify this when it will be a long while until we have metrics to qualify the success or failure of the program? Getting the budget through already is a challenge every year.
There was this one guy I wanted to punch in the face. There were women who were just plain nasty to those they perceived as members of that parent group (right in one instance, wrong in another - and I'm glad I was out of that group at that point). There were parents just sure that these clustered kids were going go around taunting other kids with, "I'm gifted and you're not, nyah, nyah!" (Puh-leeze - I can't say for certain, but I will bet that none of the kids have been told they are one of the "annointed" as one irate mother called them.) It was a rough night.
There were also people thanking the schools for finally doing something, even if their kids weren't in the clusters. There were people pointing out that if we were talking about kids on the other end of the spectrum, there's no way parents questioning spending money on a project would be tolerated, much less allowed to go on for hours.
The schools have made two major, major errors in how they implemented this pilot program. First, they didn't say anything to the general population. It was only when someone stood up and mentioned it at a school committee meeting that they'd heard a rumor about it that the superintendent came clean to the town as a whole. It was only last Thursday that the principal called each of the cluster kids' families to let them know they were a part of the program. Yeah, you read that right.
As it happens the kids of the four main families who went to the schools last spring asking for something are in the program. But they weren't notified until Thursday, just like the other 10 kids. I know a couple of those kids. It is absolutely appropriate that they are in the program. Still, on the communication front, they really screwed up, and will have a hard time recovering from that.
The second major error was in the identification process. It is very, very flawed. They do know that, and are trying to address it. Whether or not they allow "parent nominations" of kids into the program appears to be a sticking point already. I kind of hope not. If we can make this as objective as possible while knowing that it will be difficult and a *process*, I think that's preferable. We all think our kids are geniuses, but are they all really geniuses? No.
I like to think that my approach to involvement in my kids' education - and M in particular in this case - would not change with involvement in the pilot. (I hope) I would still watch for the behavioral signs of boredom and address it as I can.
The school's intentions are good. While some may argue that the road to hell is paved with good intentions, I hope they don't back off. The pendulum in our town has swung so far to one end that we really need this small move back to the middle. I really do think it will be good for all - or most - of the kids over time. Much as we want it to be, the schools can't be all things to all kids, and they don't have bottomless budgets. They are doing the best they can, making mistakes along the way. Just like all the parents in that room.
Sigh.
Our schools have a very strong music program. On the arts spectrum, we are a music town and visual arts are much less strong (I've mentioned that before). Music is so promoted here that it's not unusual to see the varsity athletes dressed for the three yearly band performances.
Two years ago when C was starting fifth grade, there were many meetings about the program and its benefits and all that. The kids were encouraged to choose an instrument. The school would provide small group instruction during school hours and had partnered with an outside vendor to supply quality instruments on a rent-to-own plan (though the people at that vendor I am less impressed with - another story for another time). Excellent, wonderful, all that.
C chose French Horn, one of the harder instruments. It's been challenging, but he's done well. The small group instruction was often one-on-one as the other French Horn player in his grade was less than committed (and has since quit). At the end of last year, he was selected for green band, the more challenging of the two bands at his school. Also, his teacher wants him to move up to a double-horn, at additional cost, of course. Great, super, all that. We'll manage to absorb that additional instrument cost.
But then a couple of days ago, C brought home the information sheet about this year's band. What the music director failed to mention two years ago was that this small group instruction at school only lasts through 6th grade. Starting in 7th grade, kids are required to have outside weekly private instruction (at our own cost of course, and they aren't cheap), and the input of those outside teachers will affect grades for the class.
I went back to the materials they handed out back then (the advantages of being something of a pack-rat), and nope, no mention of this. I feel a bit snowed. They simply did not mention how costs will continue to increase. Oh, and don't forget to join the local music promoters group, and participate in all the band fundraising that is in addition to the school fundraising.
When I was growing up, we had small group instruction through 8th grade, and at the high school level was when things began to differentiate. I just assumed (I know, my mistake) it would be similar.
We'll make it happen, of course. But I'm just...annoyed. I'm feeling very nickeled and dimed right now with all the start of school year expenses. Our town is a well-off town, but not everyone in town has a mcmansion on the bay with deep pockets. There's a reason the average town income is an average.
I wish I'd at least known.
I was so careful when the kids were small and I was introducing foods. I crossed my fingers and held my breath, hoping we would not have food allergy issues. I breathed a sigh of relief with each non-reaction. I thought we had dodged that bullet.
This summer C reported a strange feeling in his throat after eating some of our favorite steamed shrimp.
I think you know where this is going.
I had him tested a few days ago, just to be safe. Yup, he's allergic.
We're going to head off to an allergist soon for a more complete workup, and prescriptions for EpiPens have been faxed to the local pharmacy.
This should not be an onerous issue (we have shrimp only rarely), but it is a new set of issues on which to educate all of us.
From the local police log:
Sunday, August 24th
9:46AM T---- F--- Lane, vandalism. Motor vehicle wrapped in plastic wrap and shaving cream.
12:09PM T------ St, missing property. Twenty-one chickens missing from pen.
Excuse me while I step on a soap box for a few moment.
I'm watching the current political circus with interest, in part beacuse I am the child of a politician and public servant. I grew up in a southwestern state that, at the time, was fairly small (it's grown exponentially since then), but still a microcosm of the national political stage.
From the time I can remember anything, I had it drilled into me that although I was "just" a kid, my actions and choices would be scrutinized more closely than other kids. And indeed they were. My father's position was invoked more than a few times to call attention to what, for anyone else, would have been nothing.
When, during softball tryouts in sixth grade, I managed to get a good piece of the ball with my bat but that line drive hit Mara L in her braced mouth because she wasn't paying attention, and even though it was completely unintentional, my father's position was called out. "Can you believe that judge's daughter did that?"
And that is just one minor example.
I was, whether I liked it or not, a representative of my father and his positions, and my actions were seen as reflecting his values, no matter what. Sometimes it really sucked.
As such, I was expected to behave with that in mind and act with greater care than those around me. I was not always successful, and paid the price for those mis-steps - although my mis-steps were not very severe, relatively speaking (I was too afraid/aware to risk too, too much). Never once did I benefit from my father's position. If anything, the consequences were more severe.
In the end, this was one of the component reasons why I moved across the country, away from anyone who knew (or cared) who my dad was.
"Fair" or not, that's the way it was. Although I did not ask for this role, I had it, I had to deal with it, and, by the way, those public dollars were keeping a roof over our head. Like it or not, my actions were seen as a reflection of how my parents, and in particular my father, raised me.
When my parents split up, the newspaper called. Was it fair for the local media to get involved in my parent's divorce? No. But my dad was a public servant, sitting in judgment of others, and the media was taking the role of making sure there was no abuse of the power of his role during the proceedings, making sure he was consistent.
I have to wonder why many of the current crop of politicians aren't drilling this into their children (I assumption, I admit). I'm talking about politicians on both side of the aisle, but (at this particular moment) one side in particular, and both parts of the ticket (though one part is doing a better job of keeping their crap hush-hush). Although, like me, these kids didn't ask for these roles, these lives, they have them. Fair or not, they are living in the public spotlight, as a reflection of their parents' values, and must learn to deal with it and be accountable for their actions, youthful mis-steps or otherwise.
In addition, for politicians to ask that families be left out of scrutiny? That's two-faced bullshit, and they know it. They knew full-well when they entered the fray that the family would be a part of it. They did. They need to be up-front about that. With the public AND their families.
I'm not saying no one can make mistakes. More it's that they need better guidance and understanding about how the consequences of their mistakes will have a greater impact, like it or not. All parties need to accept this, and act accordingly. I think once that happens, the families actually will be much less of an issue.
OK, done now.
I think we have a mutant kitten.
You know how kitties are fastidiously clean? Unless there's some health issue or cleanliness of facilities issue, they can be pretty well depended upon to, you know, "go" where they are supposed to, keep themselves clean and all that. Even within the realm of their facilities, they keep things neat. Keep things covered. You know.
Our kitties do all that - mostly. One of the two seems to be missing the "cover" gene. The instinct to cover his business in the box. The kitty - and I am not sure which one - does not cover at all. Just goes and leaves - albeit in the box.
I've discovered this because occasionally when I walk through to the study it smells remarkably like, well, shit. At first I was sure the dog had had an accident somewhere and went sniffing around looking for the evidence. Honestly, I shouldn't have to look that hard as the dog is a pretty good size, and so the evidence should be pretty obvious. But no canine evidence, and it still smelled. Then I figured that the litter box was in need of attention and perhaps it was a protest outside of the box by one of the cats. So I'd go check the box to address that issue - and see the uncovered feline evidence out for all to smell. Ick.
I've never had a cat not make any effort to cover. It's amusing on one hand, annoying on another, and all around smelly. So all I can conclude is that we have a mutant kitty.
But an awfully cute mutant.
I'm sitting on the deck of an inn and cafe on a lovely Wednesday afternoon, eating lunch with my family. We're taking a break from visiting a great museum. As the kids chatter, I hear snippets of an interesting conversation behind me on the deck between three people. Were eavesdropping not so astoundingly impolite and uncouth, I would have listened harder. As I said, the snippets that did waft over were interesting, and I figured out quickly that two of the three were higher-ups in the local public radio station.
Almost through our lunch, I hear one of the women remark, "I'd sooner vote for that woman in the pink shirt over any of the mainstream candidates." The second woman catches my attention and says, "She's talking about you, you know."
And a fairly hilarious (to adults, not so much to kids) ten minutes ensued of friendly verbal volleys. Jokes were made about not having inhaled anything but salad, pretend coughs of shock, snarky comments about a certain candidate's wife (see here), observations about wanting power, and so on, with smatterings of truths about or political system tossed in for good measure.
Walking off the deck and back to the museum, two of the three were on their way, but the third, a friendly older gentleman, got to talking with us. He told us the names of one of the women, who happened to be the station manager for the radio station and had led the station from backwoods ho-hum to national award-winning excitement. He obviously had high respect for her.
Finally, we were all on our way, grins all around. Okay, maybe not on the kids.
When we arrived home this week, I looked up the radio station and made a small contribution to it. I also included a shout out to the two women in the comments section of the donation page that included the joke, "Counting on your support in 2012!"
Yesterday I received emails back from both women. One, the station manager, has promised to be my campaign manager. :-D
I'll let you all know when I file exploratory committee papers. (Snort!)
Whether you are 2 miles, 20 miles, 200 miles or 2000 miles from the US border, don't expect the locals to be chummy and warm when you wear shirts that read, "America: Better than all the Rest!" or similar "patriotic" slogans.
Just sayin'.
As a friend of blaugustine's likes to say.
Some punishment is work-related. That I can handle.
Some punishment is family-related.
I just spoke with my sister for the first time since returning home. Trying to wrap my head around some family events.
And again I am reminded that I live 3000 miles away from them for a reason.
Sigh.
42.70188171657805, -73.11422824859619
42.61229612450321, -75.00263214111328
44.34195929184658, -76.05036735534668
(including 44.32900573504008, -76.16503715515137
44.29399840866365, -76.15224838256836
44.23794325434499, -76.0898494720459
44.344414619784324, -75.92265129089355
44.365710274141115, -75.95423698425293)
45.426407377512774, -75.70060729980469
46.42933871009928, -74.41520690917969
(including 46.209418049302556, -74.58017349243164)
45.5014442390623, -73.57659816741943
And finally, 44.352332351790416, -72.73893356323242
Yes, I am a geek.
I don't know about you, but I get so anxious watching some of these competitions taking place half the world away.
We're a little frantic trying to pull ourselves together for vacation. This means my husband and I are running at a serious pace while trying to keep the kids in order. Not succeeding, it appears.
Three incredibly intelligent things my children (namely my boys) have done in the last 48 hours:
The other day I looked at all the statistics that come with the visit counter I've attached to this blog. It was eye-opening and slightly amusing.
Among the searches that brought people here over the last month:
One of my favorite guilty pleasures is Project Runway. The bizarre challenges, the fabulous designs, the even more fabulous personalities, the snark - I love all of it.
This summer, Project Runway is on at 9PM. It used to be 10PM. Try as I might, I just can't get the house settled to sit and watch at 9PM. S is just to bed at that time, and I am trying to corral the boys. And the evening's episode isn't repeated until midnight. Sadly, I cannot stay up that late. Work and all.
It also used to be that the previous week's episode aired just before the new episode. Not anymore. I have no idea how I am going to catch up.
Not a big deal, especially the the grand scheme of things, but an annoyance.
Sigh.
Pantheist Mom and another friend and our husbands and kids and my nephew. We all saw it.
The last at bat in our team's uniform of a certain tantrum-prone future Hall of Famer. There were many, many camera flashes. I hoped he would swing hard and go out on a high note. Maybe he tried, maybe he didn't. He flied out to center.
I can't say I'm sad. As great a bat as he swings, he crossed that invisible line this year from the the light to the dark. He became a drain on the team's psyche as the antics increased. Heck, my four year old behaves more maturely that he has.
We knew they were trying hard to trade him. On games like last night's, typically he would have been done in the 8th or 9th, the outfield shuffled. But there he was in the top of the 9th, out there in front of the wall. One last time.
And it was time.
Good luck, Manny. Don't let the door hit you on the way out.
But, OH! The new guy! I always liked Canada. Mr. Bay, we are ready to embrace you and teach you what it means to be loved by an entire nation. It's like nothing you have ever known before.
Get ready, because we are...
UPDATE, THE NEXT MORNING: S has always had a soft spot for Manny. She has called him, "My hero!" and gets excited when he is up to bat. This morning C and I carefully told S about Manny being traded. She cried. Hard.
About 20 minutes later, after a donut, S said, "Mommy, Manny can still be my hero."
Yes, S, I guess he can.
Saturday evening was one of those times at the beach that I am fairly certain my kids will remember.
Friends whom we have not seen in years came down to have dinner on the beach with us. That was great. At the same time, there was a little "reunion" of kids from S's preschool organized by a really fun mom. We parked near the reunion area so the kids S could see her friends while we saw our friends.
Later in the evening, our friends departed, but the preschool parents were hard-core. Several of us built fires (my husband recently acquired a very large wok that we use as our firepit) and we stayed until after 9PM chatting while the kids played with sparklers and danced to whatever music came on the radio. (There were also some fireworks, but the young yahoo assistant harbormaster shut that down. Don't think the rest of the town hasn't noticed the frequency with which he sets off fireworks. Drunk with power, that one.)
We let the boys put long sticks into our fire until the tips glowed, then they danced the sticks through the air until the ends burned out.
For all the crappy commuting and annoying small-town politics (and young yahoo assistant harbormasters drunk with power), this is why we live here. We're very lucky.
A bit over an hour ago, a tornado warning was issued for my county.
Such a warning is rare. We don't live in tornado alley - far from it. But we have been in a strange weather pattern for the last week or so. This is the second tornado warning I can remember here. The last one was about five years ago and the suspect cell was about 1/2 mile from us. I was in one tornado warning when we lived in the south - that whole day is a story from another time.
My husband called me to let me know the warning had been issued. I'd just dropped C at sailing and didn't have the radio on. My husband is supposed to be sailing tonight, too, but I bet they are calling it off. A water spout was spotted about an hour away, and the line was headed straight for us. The news estimated it would reach us in 40 minutes.
After a frantic half hour of getting some things to the basement while following the storm on the news station, the storm weakened enough for the warning to be canceled. Meanwhile a neighbor whose son was also at sailing offered to go get them. Yes, please. And thank you. I'd already called down to the maritime school to verify that the kids were indeed off the water.
Last text message I sent to my husband was "Tornado warning canceled. Phew. Just flash flood and severe thunderstorm warnings now. Bring wine."
The thunderstorm cell is right over my town right now. I can hear the crackle of lightening intermingled with booms of thunder around my house. The rain is torrential. Hail possible.
There will be trees down. I hope we keep power. I think it's safe to assume the boys' summer league baseball games are canceled.
Even as I write this, the storm is easing. The sky is even lightening a little.
I went to church on Sunday morning for the first time since the first of June. I went because I knew that the rector, R, would not be there. We had a visiting priest – a benign older guy I’ve met before. He’s retired from parish work and now travels around the area doing supply work like this. His wife is also ordained and she’ll lead the service next week.
I realize I miss it. But what do I miss? I think I miss something that no longer exists. Things related to issues at the church continue to muddle along. Not particularly positively from my point of view.
Several weeks ago, I sent an email to the bishop. I didn’t tell him what my issues were, just that we needed help down here, and to listen to those others who have contacted him, that they are not alone in their concerns. Received a dismissive email back, as though he hadn’t really read my email. Lovely.
I decided to hold back pledges for a while. For a few weeks I mulled designating them to a specific fund, but I think I need to make a bigger statement. I’ll probably send the pledge amount to the diocese for a while, or to the food pantry or another group.
A couple weeks ago there was a women only goodbye party for the Christian Ed director. The issues with the rector were like the elephant in the room that no one was talking about. That was hard. In other ways, it was enlightening. I’d say the majority of women are not thrilled with how things are going (although the hostess is the only supporter I know), but convincing people to speak up is difficult. It’s easier to walk away, or actively ignore the issues. After all, we don’t go to church to be negative. We go looking for the positive. To speak up negatively about church related subjects feels somehow wrong. At any rate, I know the women I saw there were women I hadn’t seen in church in quite a while.
I saw a woman who was on the search committee at another gathering about a week later. (Coincidentally, this was the woman who ran for school committee this year and lost.) She tried to convince me that the Christian Ed director leaving as she did was planned “all along” and I had “absolutely no reason” to be upset or surprised. Um, no. If she had been in church more than one or two times since Christmas she might know better – or even just talked to the Christian Ed director. While on the search committee, this woman was the biggest champion for R getting the job, so in some ways, she’s trying to save face. I think she would do better to look inward and examine why she has been avoiding church for months now. Unlikely.
The junior warden of the church called. He said he heard I had spoken with R (from R). I told him the suggestions I made to R. CC acted like he was surprised to hear I had made suggestions, but that he thought they were good ones. Sounds like R dismissed the suggestions when I made them. Perhaps they will carry more weight if they come from CC. More on that in a moment.
CC said the bishop came down for a meeting with R, and also attended by himself and a couple others, and that the result was that things seemed to be okay, but they’d keep in contact. Excuse me? That floored me.
CC also said attendance numbers weren’t down all that much – only 11% at the 10AM service. I found this hard to believe and asked for details on the numbers. The numbers he has have no granularity; it’s everyone in the building during service times. I countered that such a number is skewed: he needs to be able to look at pew numbers vs. Sunday school numbers vs. choir numbers and so on. The numbers in choir and Sunday school teachers have remained relatively stable because we make commitments on a yearly basis to the choir director and/or Christian Ed director. I suspect these numbers will be down more in September (at the moment I know no one willing to commit to teach this coming year – even though the job description on the Web for the Christian Ed position declares a “solid” base of volunteers), and we need be able to see what is happening where. C said he’d bring that suggestion to the vestry meeting last week, but I know for a fact he did not. Still there’s plenty –and I mean plenty - of space in the pews.
About ten days ago, the church newsletter came out. The opening letter from the rector was about change versus growth. How people say they want change, but really need to look inward and grow personally.
Well, now.
I tried to think on that outside the context of what I know is happening. It was hard. Yes, looking inward and growing is a good thing, preferable to change for the sake of change. But…
I was not the only one who read this and felt that, once again, he is not taking any responsibility for what is happening. That he thinks it is not him who needs to a change, but us who need to grow.
(My husband, of course, did an excellent job of skewering that message while we were preparing for my sister’s arrival. I said we needed to change the sheets on the guest bed and he responded asking whether we really needed to change them, or should we look inward to grow them instead. Har, har, har.)
Just a few days ago we received a postcard mailing from the church reminding us to keep pledges up-to-date during the summer months. The most interesting thing to me was the label. It was addressed to my husband only. For the entire time we have been at the church, every single mailing has come to
Let me repeat that.
Men only.
I think we have a sexism issue on our hands. (Amid everything else.) I’m not trying to be alarmist here or create more trouble where there is none. A pattern is emerging. Intentional or not.
I tried to deny it myself. I don’t want this to be an issue on top of everything. I didn’t really even occur to me until I read this piece about women and the church. Rather women AS the church. The article is about the greater church, but well worth considering on a local level.
Our church leadership may be mostly male, but women are the core. We’re the ones who typically drive taking the kids to church, being a part of the community. We teach Sunday school, keep the prayer chain going, feed one another, literally and figuratively, run all but one of the volunteer and outreach efforts. Yet our voices are not heard when there is a problem.
The women of our church are, very clearly to me, being dismissed. It’s been all women who have spoken up so far. Suggestions we make are overlooked. I will bet that if – IF- the (male) junior warden makes the same suggestions I made to R, they will be acted upon. Because they come from a man more than anything. The meeting between the bishop and the rector and the others was all men, and, hey, apparently things are fine. And when it comes to pledges, talk to the man of the house because, clearly, women have no decision making power there.
So back to church on Sunday. After the service, feeling like I have nothing to lose, I approached CC, the junior warden. I let him know that 1) was there because R was not, 2) the message in the newsletter was extremely telling, and 3) if he continued to allow church leadership to marginalize the women of the church, even in the most seemingly benign ways such as omitting women’s names from mailings, he would be able to watch the church totally disintegrate beyond repair.
Whether or not he heard me, I said it. I’m glad I did. Ironically, it was immediately after a sermon about hearing.
Sometimes the weather one direction is vastly different from weather in the other direction.
About ten days ago, dinner on the beach looked like this:
Click to enlarge.
My sister, her husband, and their youngest son are visiting. They are staying with us.
As I said to a friend on Saturday night, I prefer to have this side of the continent to myself. For scrawny woman with an eating disorder, she sure takes up a lot of space and requires an immense amount of energy.
Deep breaths, deep breaths.
I had fun taking photos of fireworks on Friday night.
I had even more fun when I took these photos on Saturday at the town beach party and bonfire. These photos have not been through any manipulation software - it's just what came out. Pretty funky, huh?
S and her daddy walk toward the bonfire.
Garden is finally blooming. The hydrangeas are really late, though. I have no idea why.
The kittens continue to be lots of fun.
When my sister is gone, I get a good nap and a morning at the beach, I hope to be more articulate.
So I popped over to the local big box home improvement store at lunch today to try to find a specific florescent light bulb for the fan/light in the bathroom. Just as I exited my car, a stumbled ever so slightly as I checked to be sure that yes, I had my specifications and my keys and my phone. It wasn’t even enough of a stumble to make me think, “Gosh, I hope no one was looking!” Thirty seconds later, I barely remembered it.
As I walked through the big orange doors, a man says to me, “Have a nice trip?”
I looked at him quizzically.
He said it again, “Have a nice trip?”
I was just about to say that he must have me confused with someone else when he added, “I saw you trip in the parking lot.” Then he chuckled and walked away.
I was stunned. My jaw was open a little as I tried to remember. Then, oh, yeah, I guess I did trip a little.
But then my mind quickly went to this thought: A**hole.
I went to find my lightbulb, but kept an eye out lest that beautiful specimen of humanity end up in my aisle.
I still can’t really believe it. It’s almost surreal. That an adult (notice I didn’t say grown-up) would go out of his way to say something like that to a complete stranger is beyond me.
Ick.
There’s this music venue a couple of towns north of us smack in the middle of a residential neighborhood. It’s open in the summer only and it’s literally a tent, albeit a highly specialized kind of tent. The stage rotates. There is a sister venue of similar type about 40 miles from here.
Over the 20 years or so that I’ve lived in New England, I’ve been amused at the kinds of acts that play there. It always seemed to be “old people” music. I know that comment is full of ageism, but we’re talking crooners like my dad used to enjoy back in the day. “The day” being the 40s and 50s. So, you know, old people’s music. It was a running joke between my husband and myself. An act that would, sooner or later, play at the venue, was one to look down upon.
Over the last few years, the acts coming to the venue have been more and more interesting and/or amusing. There are still the crooner types, and now there are several tribute bands on the schedule, and some other “interesting” revues (Bowzer’s Original Doo-Wop Party). There are some kids programs, some comedians (we saw Lewis Black there, and some artists that you would be surprised to learn are still touring (Kenny Rogers). But there also are, occasionally, some decent acts. We saw Bruce Hornsby there a few years ago. The small setting made it a lot of fun. In terms of it being an “old person” place, it seems I am being put in my place. Or getting old. Or both.
Anyway, there are sill some acts that you just do not expect to see on the schedule, and we went to see one of those acts last Saturday night. We saw Blondie.
Yes, Blondie. Debbie Harry and Chris Stein and Clem Burke, and some new support musicians. No Jimmy Destri, no Gary Valentine. It’s been 30 years since Parallel Lines was released, and this was an anniversary tour.
(I never saw Blondie in their heyday. My hometown was not exactly a hot stop of cutting edge music, thought I did see everything I could that did come through. I found my old pile of concert tickets recently. I’ll have to write about them sometime.)
When I told our sitter where we were going, she was a little incredulous, both at the fact that they were still performing in one way or another, and where they were playing. We joked about how she also laughed at acts scheduled at this venue. Thing is, she’s young. She can still laugh.
When we drove up and parked, we were a little amused at the demographic. No, a lot amused. There were couples milling about that you would otherwise imagine by their appearances as garden club member, golf playing, grandparent retirees. Which they also may be. You never – never! – would have imagined some of these people to be punk aficionados back in the day. The earrings that matched the shirt in an easy care fabric would have been laughed down the street had they shown up at CBGBs! There were, of course, younger fans, and older fans that looked a little more hip. We were on the younger side of the crowd.
As we sat on the a bench outside the tent, having a glass of wine, we cracked many jokes. For example, how this crowd might be a good test market for cocktails made with nutritional beverages. Tequila shots with an Ensure chaser, or a “Booster” or “Resource Breezer” blender drinks with umbrellas. We joked about how, thirty years ago, we’re sure Debbie Harry never envisioned that people attending her concerts would look into their Talbots and Ann Taylor-filled closets for something to wear, much less intentionally shop there in anticipation (Guilty! I bought a blouse on sale there on Thursday evening with the concert in mind.)
Once inside the tent, we dutifully listened to the opening act (not bad), though again speculated on how they landed the gig. Was a member of the opening band an offspring of the main act (that’s happening a fair bit these days)? Were these musicians even born when Blondie first played? We later learned the answers were no (Clem Burke, however, had helped produce a recording of theirs) and yes (but not all, and not by much).
When it was time for the main event, it was lots of fun. The crowd, though not a sell-out, was really into it, even the garden-club grandparent retirees. Ms. Matching Earrings was rocking out.
Debbie Harry has still got it. At 63, that is no small feat. Yes, Debbie Harry is 63. She may look like a slightly lumpy older woman walking down the ramp to the stage, but she’s clearly a real woman and strong as ever. She still has stage presence. Her voice is just as strong and she can deliver a lyric (others around her age are losing their voices, even though they still record – think Carly Simon, who is only six days older than Debbie Harry). I could do worse than look like Debbie Harry when I’m 63, really. She looked like she was having a lot of fun.
Chris Stein was his usual quiet self, same look on his face, concentrating, doing his thing. Clem Burke has the arena-rock drummer moves, which is amusing in a band with Blondie’s edge. Spinning his drum sticks up in the air in the relatively small tent doesn’t have quite the same impact as in the larger venues.
We had a lot of fun. I’m glad we went. I was surprised how many lyrics I could remember.
Oh, and another benefit to the older crowd? Less rowdy behavior in the parking lot after the show, and a relatively orderly and quick departure from the parking lot. Back in the day, Blondie never would have imagined that, either.
C has been a real crab lately - angry and nasty and just really unpleasant. It's been stressful and hurtful and exhausting. I don't quite know what to do, but I'm doing my best to feel my way through it. It's hard.
My nephew has informed me that I'm much too hard on him, hold the kids to much too high a standard in general, am too strict, and my kids are going to hate me, and so on.
Lovely.
Walking outside right now, you would never imagine that a week ago we were in the midst of a heat wave. There is at least a 35 degree difference.
A week ago, I had all the fans going in the house. Last night I almost dug out the down comforter. Even Saturday was quite warm. I spent a couple hours in the garden weeding and manged to burn my shoulders. Not so thorough with the sunscreen as I thought.
That old joke is so true: If you don't like the weather, just wait a minute. It will change.
Time for some (hot) tea.
Early last week, I was compelled to write a letter to the vestry of the church stating my concerns. I was careful not to be confrontational, though I did clearly state what I think has been missing in the church directly corresponds to the arrival of new leadership. I wrote about the sense of love and acceptance and finding our way in a wider world missing now.
I had a some email responses from vestry members. A couple thanked me for voicing what they had been feeling for a long time, while others called it “vague.” I guess I can see both sides.
That afternoon, the junior warden called me. I spoke with him for a bit, again while trying not to be confrontational or pointing fingers. He kept reiterating that he thought this was about “style” differences. I insisted it was more than that. I told him – and it’s very true – I would NOT go to the rector if I was having a problem. My gut is telling me the whole situation is not right.
I learned to listen to my gut feelings when C was getting sick. Although C had already been to the doctor and was on antibiotics and I had been told it would be a couple days until he felt better, had I not listened to my gut instinct and taken him in that Tuesday morning in 2003, he probably would not be here today. There’s a reason it’s called instinct.
Anyway, the next day, R, the rector called, as I expected. He asked to meet with me. I figured since I had written the letter, I needed to be available and open to meeting him. We agreed to 11:30AM this past Wednesday, ample time after his 10:00AM service and after my usual Wednesday morning errands. I chose a public, neutral place – the bakery near the harbor.
It’s interesting that after suppressing feelings about the situation at the church for so many months, when I finally opened the door just a crack to admit some of it, more came rushing out. I could not close that door again. Among other things, I realized I do not feel physically comfortable around the guy. I didn’t realized it, but even my husband noticed that I would physically avoid the guy at church. I would go around him when he was at the back of the church greeting those arriving or departing, and I would move when he came near at coffee hour. Since my husband has been to church four times in the last year, that he noted this in those brief observations is interesting.
In the days that followed setting up that meeting, I felt extremely anxious and even nauseous when I thought about it. After speaking with one of the vestry members (E) at baseball on Friday evening, I decided I needed someone else with me.
I emailed another woman I know, H, who is on the vestry and asked her if she could be there. Not for any conversational input, but just to physically be there and hear what happens. She agreed. I emailed R and said I wanted H to be there for my physical comfort and would that be okay with him. I wanted to be upfront and fair about this; I did not want to blindside him.
Then I emailed the rector of a church a few towns north whom I know from years past (he led our premarriage counseling in another state in the early 90s) and asked for advice. He was helpful in suggestions for considering what I want to happen and approaches.
In the meantime, I saw people around town. People who have drifted away, or plain left. The sentiment is the same - things aren't right, the love is gone, we need help. We need a change. I encouraged each of them to write letters to the vestry. I told them I had. We'll see if that happens.As the meeting approached, I felt more nervous. H and I agreed to meet at 11:00 to settle for a bit before R arrived.
On Wednesday, I walked up to the bakery at 10:55AM. R was already there, waiting for me. I was surprised and I stammered as I said I just needed to get a coffee. He didn’t even acknowledge S. H, unfortunately, was late. I tried to take my time in the bakery, getting a treat for S and a coffee for me, gathering my thoughts. He came in, and hovered while I did this, kept asking where we should sit, and I kept saying please give me a few minutes. I felt totally ambushed.
We sat down, and I was still discombobulated. A few minutes later H walked up, and, bless her, forcefully said, “What happened to 11:30?” R hesitated and replied, “I put it down as 11:00.” Now he may or may not have – but the spidey sense tingled again. The 10:00AM Wednesday service usually lasts about 50 minutes, so the 11:30 time was designed by me to give ample time to clean up and wind down from that. Of course, there may have been no one there for the 10:00 service.
The conversation began, and it went all over the place. It's still gelling. Among other things....I laid into him on that awful sermon. He said, "I'm sorry it didn't work for you," emphasizing the "for you" part (I confirmed with H that she heard that, too). He thinks the people who are unhappy right now are just a few, a handful - that the variations in numbers and money is "normal" (We’ve gone from a surplus a year ago to almost 100K deficit). I reiterated that it is not - I've watched normal and this is not normal.
I said that although he has the authority to make any change he wants, making changes in a vacuum is going to alienate people. I told him he needed to back off all changes, call and get to know everyone in the congregation, starting with the people who have drifted away (which I will admit will be hard since he has no idea who they are), ask himself for every change he wants to make whether it is something that will enhance what we have or fix something that is not broken.
I also asked him if he thought he had made any mistakes in the last year. He seemed rather surprised by the question, and didn't answer. I don't think he's ever considered that.
I said I thought he had bishop aspirations, but that we deserved to be more than a stepping stone to that goal. He claimed he does not, that he loves parish work but he spends enough time at the diocesan level that I wonder. He's clearly very good at "managing up."
There's other stuff, but it's still swirling. Oh, ZERO interaction with S. Not even a smile. And lots of openings to ask questions to get to know me, and none were taken. After that, I was even more sure that he is not in the right place. He doesn't get it.
After he left, H and I sat for a while. She told me that after I emailed both of them about her being there R called her and asked her why I wanted her there. She said, no, he should ask me. R then says he's going to reply to me that it's fine, blind copying H - even though H was already on the emails, etc. Weird.
H told me about a few other things. A, the office administrator, was fired this week. She's been in and out on medical leave for about a month - the stress of working with him has been manifesting itself physically with her. After S, the Christian Ed director leaves on Sunday, R will be the ONLY person in the office. And also R’s wife and son are very unhappy here. I’m sorry for that, but I think it’s symptomatic of these bigger problems. No one is happy, really.
M, the rector who retired three years ago, has been asked to perform services. He still does supply work. Very few want R to perform the transitional rites. It puts M is a tough spot. He doesn’t want to interfere, but it must be horrible to watch what he built over 18 years fall apart. He’s being judicious in accepting what rites to perform and where.
I told H that if a change was made, I would recommit fully to the rebuilding process (which, at this point could take years), but otherwise I really didn't think I could teach Sunday School in the fall. I don't know what to do about pledges. I may specify a fund (buildings and grounds) instead of just sending it in generally.
Then S drove by, saw us and stopped. Apparently the diocese is coming for a walk-through today. C, the sexton, let it drop that it's to evaluate R’s claimed need for additional clergy and/or a seminarian to support the parish. We’re so in the red we can't afford anyone! We can't pay our diocesan assessment this year! There was an "all-parish" meeting on Tuesday about the direction of Christian Ed – seven (7!) people showed up (our official census is over 1000, 700 active a year ago). R apparently started talking about how far to extend the search for a Christian Ed person (and he's pushing for an ordained person). We suspect he has a specific person in mind. In
S told us about several others who have come to her. She’s encouraged them all to write to the vestry and diocese. The dissatisfaction is multi-generational.
Then I left, and called J, the woman whose departure pushed me to act. She and a couple others have called and emailed the bishop in the last 24 hours - they want to make sure the bishop is aware of the issues. We also keep hearing about more people who are planning to write letters. Just hope they follow through.
I ended up emailing the bishop myself, but it wasn’t to detail anything, just to say please hear what has already been said, and please investigate what is happening here. Neither he nor his staff has responded.
Anyway, I don't think R is a bad person. I just don't think this is a fit! We've spent a year supporting him, giving him space in the transition, but the transition should be winding down and everyone should be settled by now. My mission in all this is not to bring him down, it's to bring our church back. There was a parish picnic on Sunday to say goodbye to S (we were at our walk), and it was well-attended - but he doesn't understand that people came for S. This coming Sunday is likely to be sparse. I don’t know a single person who intends to go to church this summer. We’re all “taking a break,” even vestry members like H and E.
My new company has this habit of providing just a little too much personal information about new hires. Today an email like this one went out:
From: Manager
To: Company
Sent: Thu Jun 12 18:34:25 2008
Subject: Please welcome Elmer Smith to Company Family
Elmer also enjoys walking in the park, horseback riding and sunsets at the beach.
I came so close to responding with the following:My husband is an expert nicknamer. Seriously. He gives great nicknames - probably because he had a great one himself, given by his mother (but that is a story for another day).
Anyway, Laka already has an appropriate nickname courtesy of my husband:
Boomchakalaka.
The kittens are heartbreakingly adorable. We are slowly acclimating them. Percy purrs up a storm (perhaps he should be "Purrcy"? Stop groaning. OK, no, we won't do that). Laka is the more skittish of the two.
They are already doing an excellent job of distracting me from other stresses.
Okay, Remy just said that with the way the lineup is being juggled tonight, one of these two relievers is currently listed as the DH. Wha'?
Of course there was the time in early 2006, I think, that weird wind-up guy (former teammate, playing for the Reds, and whom I really liked) had more homers than S's hero. You never can tell.
I just checked the calendar to be sure it really was June, not April (1st).
I called it, I did. Early in the game on Tuesday I said to a coworker, "Punches will be thrown this series." Of course, then I had explain what I meant by "series." And tell him a little about the long-standing history of altercations between the two teams.
So, tonight. There was the brawl. Then my beloved rolled his wrist on an amazing diving catch. I still can't watch the replay. Then Youk and S's hero have words in the dugout, almost starting another brawl. And Papi already is in a cast. The 103.1 million dollar man is on the DL, as is M's favorite.
But, hey, that rookie just brought up is having a nice night. Two runs in so far and his first major league hit.
Given the inside pitch on this guy just now (who just struck out), I would not be surprised if there are more punches thrown this game. At the very least, when these teams meet again, watch out.
For now, I want to say to the boys on both sides, let's just get through this game. Then everyone go have a few beers and CHILL OUT!
That's an order.
(But, um, boys? Kick their asses next time for me, 'k? The DEVIL! Rays at the top of - or even near the top of - the AL East is WRONG!)
Last night I took M to the game. It was a work event. The company acquired 40 tickets. Only 31 signed up, so names for an extra ticket were drawn out of a hat, and we got lucky.
C was quite jealous, but he got to go the the playoff game last October, so it was only fair that M go.
While it was a good game, it was hard to watch. My work colleagues were far more interested in socializing (and drinking company purchased beer) than watching the game, so they were up and down and all around and most of the time the view was blocked. Very disappointing for an 8 year old. Plus, I had to explain baseball to a couple of people. Although no one asked me the question a nephew asked last summer when we saw a game out west ("When's halftime?" Seriously.), one guy thought the main area of play was in front of the bullpen and was quite surprised when action started happening elsewhere.
I was glad to be there, and glad to have a night out with M, but we both would have enjoyed really being able to pay attention to the game more. Oh well. M insisted he wanted to stay until the very end, and we did. Then we got him a shirt of his favorite player. He fell asleep in the car on the way home, and was extra tired this morning, but he gave me lots of hugs during the game last night, and I'll hold on to those.
PM, nice homer by your boyfriend in the 2nd.
This would be amusing if it weren't so sad. It is just amazing to watch how people can read the same words and come away with such different opinions of what is being said.
After emailing my letter to the vestry early this morning (12 persons), I have received four emails back.
Number of those emails thanking me for writing? 3
Number of those emails thanking someone else for responding to me? 1
Number of those emails expressing support for the letter and declaring it succinct and clear? 2
Number of emails suggesting I'm being vague? 2
This is going to be very interesting.
I wrote a letter to the vestry of the church. There is a meeting tonight. I have no idea if any of it will be heard, but I feel comfortable with the content of it. I slept on it to be sure.
Yesterday morning, in a half-full church service, I noticed that one of the parish stalwarts was not there. Then I realized I hadn't seen her in almost a month. She's not a big vacation taker, so I wondered if she was ill and I just hadn't heard. So I asked someone after church.
Me: "Is J okay? I haven't seen her in a good long while."
Other: "She's fine. She left."
Me: "Left? Left what?"
Other: "She left the church."
This is enormous.
J grew up in the church. Her great-grandmother helped found the church. She was baptized there, was married there, had her children baptized there. She's been a faithful attendee and financial supporter for decades. She's been on every committee and in every vestry role. And she did it all with a level of innate warmth and love that I can only aspire to. For her to leave? Well, there are two words cycling and recycling through my brain: holy shit.
I spoke with J this morning. She's sad but believes she made the right decision based on many factors. She did not go into details. She hopes one day to return. She was her ever-loving, hopeful self. She talked and I listened, then I talked and she listened. She did not trash anyone, but explained rationally her thought process. For now, she feels a bit of burden has been lifted from her.
I've written about this issue recently here and here. While it's reassuring to know I'm not the only one struggling, I'm also finding it very sad and I don't know how to start forward-moving dialogue or with whom to address any of it. Would it make any difference?
What to do, what to do....
