Mutual Ministry and Preparing for Advent

We've got a Mutual Ministry Committee, and more often than not, it's a pretty good thing. I've heard the occasional horror story (though it seems most are second or third hand) about such committees that are constitutionally required in many congregations, but which end up having whining/complaining/fix-the-pastor meetings, more than anything else.
I really like all the parishioners on the committee, and value the time we get with them, though sometimes I wish we had an excuse to have the kinds of conversations we do with other small groups in the congregation, too. Tonight I asked them what they need from their community of faith during the seasons of Advent and Christmas. I want to make what we do as a community meaningful and faith-forming, not just one more thing people feel stressed out about when they commit to participating, or feel guilty about when they don't participate. I think sometimes less can be more, but only if we slow down enough to recognize the more - and I want to help people notice what's going on around them, and within them.
What do YOU need during Advent this year? Who could help you find/have it?

Year(s) in Review

I had my first-ever "ministry review" tonight. I was in my first call for almost 4 years, second call for 2, and we arrived here almost 3 years ago - and this is the first time I've had a formal review in all those years! The church council president and another council member arrived on our doorstep at 7pm and then the fun began...
My dear husband/colleague went first. I tended to the Munchkin upstairs. (The reviews happened at our house so that Munchkin could do her regular bed-time routine with us instead of either being up late or trying to fall asleep with a sitter.We figure since the two of us share one FTE, perhaps it's not too much to ask to have folks come to our house when both of our presences are required. Plus, I served angel food cake with peaches, raspberries and whipped cream. I try to make sure there's a plus-side whenever people accomodate us.)
I think the reviews went okay. We ended up mostly reviewing ourselves - there wasn't a lot of feedback from the two folks involved - it sounds like the whole council will get a turn to add their two cents at our meeting later this week. I'm not sure how I should feel about that. We'll see...
The best part about the review, as far as I'm concerned, is the opportunity to articulate a few goals for the year. Next year's review will start with those. I'm hoping to help more adults get involved in Bible study groups, do a sermon series, spend more time with members/friends of the congregation in their homes/places of work/favorite lunch or coffee spots, and be more intentional in building relationships with and among the college students who worship with us during the academic year. They're all pretty do-able, I think.
Of course goal-setting is important to me generally - how else would one become a "queen of lists"? That said, a lot of my daily to-do's don't always get done. Yep. No photo taken today. I was tempted to take a picture of the Munchkin standing up in her crib with a huge goofy grin on her face, but didn't want the flash to get her all riled up again.
So- here's a photo from the weekend. We spent Sunday afternoon at the local Sweet Pea Festival of the Arts. The Munchkin's first outdoor concert: Shawn Mullins. Not too bad.

The Munchkin and her Daddy at Sweet Pea

Tomorrow: back to work. And there WILL be a photo!

(Maybe) Read. (Probably Not) Reply.

A member of my congregation likes to forward me lots of stuff. Lots.of.stuff. Seriously. For awhile I felt compelled to open it all and then try to read it all, and then think of some decent response to email back to him. I couldn't keep up. Finally, I told him I'd subscribed myself to the Henri Nouwen Society's daily email, and also let him know that I wouldn't always be able to reply to all of the First Things articles, youtube videos and assorted other things he sends. He seemed surprised that I'd thought he expected me to in the first place. Let me tell you - after the fall out we took at our house for taking some parental leave, G and I were starting to feel a little paranoid. Unnamed, unspoken expectations can be dangerous things. Especially if you're the one of whom a couple hundred people have unspoken expectations.
Fortunately, after some hard work, lots of listening, and near-constant reminders not to get defensive, things are getting better. At some point I'll be able to write a half-way intelligible and thoughtful paragraph about how the whole thing went down.

In the meantime, you might also enjoy the meditation the Henri Nouwen Society sent on Easter. It must have made an impact on me. I remembered the "maybe" - perfect for this month's nablopomo - and perhaps a fitting description of the growing edge of my life, too.

Christ is risen. He is risen indeed. We joyfully announce it. [And yet] I realize that my faith and unbelief are never far from each other. Maybe it is exactly at the place where they touch each other that the growing edge of my life is.

Early Morning Privileges

My alarm went off at 5:30am this morning. While I realize this is a perfectly normal time for a lot people I know, including my husband, it is pretty darn early for me. My excuse is that I used up my lifetime supply of early mornings during the two and a half years I worked for Starbucks (when the store opened at 5:30am and we had to be there at 5am, which meant I got up at 4am to shower and get there on time...). As painful, and cold, as it was this morning, I was glad to get up. An eight year old member of the congregation I serve was scheduled for surgery, and he and his parents were to be at the hospital at 6:15am. I got there about 6:20. The coffee cart on the first floor had yet to open for the day - you know you're early when you beat the coffee lady. There were three or four nurses on the surgery floor, walking with purpose from their station into rooms with curtains pulled for patient privacy. They asked questions, took blood pressures, checked temperatures, and made sure all the information was correct - so much activity happening in those lighted spaces, when the world around was still sleeping and covered in darkness. I witnessed the beginning of the pre-surgery routine: child patient in gown and reclining in the bed even though he was ready to bounce off the walls, nurse in and out of the room, parents smiling for their son and trying not to let their concern and worry show enough to concern and worry him. My young friend introduced his parents to the nurse, and introduced me as "our pastor." I have never been happier to bear that title. I hope he knew that I was there for him, and for his parents. We joked, talked a little about the procedure, and then we prayed one of the most heartfelt kinds of prayer - we knew we weren't in control, we asked for God's presence, we prayed for the blessing of others and their skills, we asked for the gift of trust and hope, we prayed for healing and health. His parents thanked me over and over for getting up so early, for being there. I said "you're welcome" as a reflex. And added, "It's what we do. It's who we are. And it is my privilege to be here." I never cease to be amazed at the access people grant us pastor-types into their lives, to be witnesses, to be signs of God's presence among us, to represent the family of faith, to help find the words to give meaning to the best and worst times. What a privilege. *the surgery went well and my friend is on the mend. Wahoo!