it's just not my day.

I dropped the last graduate school application envelope in the mail an hour ago. I should be ecstatic. I am relieved, but until all my ducks are in their proverbial row, I'm not. Tonight -- or sometime very soon -- I file my taxes so as to have an accurate FAFSA on file by March 1st. So I'm not quite finished. Two sets of recommendation letters are en route to their respective destinations. Yay! The other... not yet, which makes me nervous. Considering the first set, mailed on Friday, is not yet posted as received by the school, it's apparently taking longer to get there than I'd like. Which means the last set needs to go out like... yesterday. /sigh.

Currently I'm sitting here a little depressed. It's most likely a hormonal thing. Scratch that. It's definitely a hormonal mood swing thing. But when I accidentally elbowed a brand new roll of toilet paper off the counter and into the toilet this morning, I knew it just wasn't my day. Bad omen! My drive to work included insane dude not letting me pass him and then trying to run me off the road. Some customer called in to cancel and when I politely asked him to fax or send by certified mail a cancellation letter, he threw a freaking hissy fit at me over the phone. In my haste to get errands done and said envelope mailed, my lunch was a banana. Healthy, but not exactly the most filling. I sent another customer an explicitly documented amended invoice with over $1700 in credits and he wants to know what the "true credit was for and for how much" and he's seeing it as "a credit of only $500 not $1600." /facepalm. Seriously?! And one of my drivers made some unnecessary comments about the cleanliness of the inside of my car. Yes, I desperately need to vacuum, but ...uncalled for. It stung a little too much in my hormonal funk.

And now to make matters worse, Chris is listening to the Sean Hannity show on Fox radio and I get to listen to him talk of Republicans voting against Obama's legislation as the conscientious equivalent of voting down slavery. /mega facepalm. I can't stand him. I feel stupider every time this show is on. Although, I will admit it makes me appreciate Stephen Colbert and Jon Stewart that much more. But it's mind-numbingly ignorant.

Oh the little things. Gratefully, there is a six-pack of New Belgium 1554 and a couple of steaks in my frig, patiently waiting my return. :) I could go home right now and not feel guilty about it, but I don't think that would be received very well.

Procrastinatory Activities

Yesterday the morning left me stressed and feeling a bit frantic. Between the frustrations of work, the anxiety of graduate school applications and the multi-layered distracting sounds of the office, I came home at lunch uncommonly tightly wound. The afternoon fared better, the evening turned to a few small household chores, but the ambition I'd felt earlier to crack down on the last few remaining pieces of my applications took a critical, and finally fatal, hit.

Which seems to be the theme of the month. Oh indeed I'm making progress. I knocked out the entirety of my Indiana University application the day I spent at Luther. Granted, it was a small scratch on the surface of what I'd wanted to accomplish, but it's no surprise that everything is taking far longer than I think it will. I'm out of time-management and time-it-takes approximating practice.

That being said, my progress is stunted by premature celebratory breaks. Or maybe they're necessary breaks, it's hard for me to say. I'll be very productive one night and then think "oh, I've got plenty of time to finish the rest later." The Olympics are not helping. :) A fine thing to cheer on the athletes, to be sure, but not at the expense of a much needed, much anticipated, long overdue return to graduate school.

The other piece is that I hesitate at the bulk and challenge of the applications. It took me so long to start because I kept considering all the pieces and essays and information needed as a whole. Instead of sitting down and writing out a list of the small tasks and tackling them one by one, I strategized internally and my confidence waned. And even now I waffle between productivity and stagnancy, commitment and apathy. A residual effect of my long healing process, I'm sure, but it's frustrating and somewhat depressing.

Actually, the only thing missing from my actual admission applications are my recommendation letters. I heard from one writer of such that he intends to get to them "sometime next week" (!). They're due a week from Monday! It's my own fault they're swamped and the letters will be sent down to the wire because I sent them so late, but that doesn't make my anxiety any less. Oh, sure I can still get IN to school, but the chances of me getting a graduate assistantship to ease the burden of payment without meeting the deadline is virtually nil.


That tiny little voice is also starting to chatter about my inability to get into graduate school at all. Which is total baloney. I'm awesome! But my current ability to maintain efficient motivation gnaws at my ego. Can I hack it? Or will I crumble under the strain? Then there's the intent concentration with which I watched PBS' "Nature" Sunday night - an episode titled "In the Valley of the Wolves" about the Yellowstone Druid pack - and I know I'm still as enthralled with the topic as ever. Where do I sign up to spend 300 days a year out in the field filming wolves?! :P

So I soldier on, one small task at a time, the minutes and hours and days escaping rapidly. These past four years are time I cannot get back. Yet even now, they seem to evaporate into inconsequence, as if they never truly existed. As I regain my footing, as I return to what Pastor Fred Rilling named "the land of the living," as I bungee back together all the fragmented pieces of who I really am, I feel like I am fresh out of Luther once again, with all the potential and possibilities and positive expectations rolling out before me.

Church is stressful

When dealing with visitors to a congregation there is a balance to be struck between providing enough contact and introduction to make someone feel welcome and respecting his/her anonymity or need for space. A balance, I say, a balance!

Today I decided to attend a church here in Iowa City for the first time. I chose a church whose statements of mission are very welcoming, open and inclusive. Their website wasn't spectacular, but certainly accessible with pictures and biographies etc. However, my experience with the actual place was not nearly what I expected.

Granted, the church is undergoing some fairly substantial renovations, which makes front door access mostly impossible. A bit daunting for a visitor. The side door awning-covered vehicle drop-off was certainly easy to spot, however.

I also did not recheck the time of service and arrived at 10:15 for a 10:45 service. So I wandered into their very animated, talkative coffee hour. I got myself a cup of coffee and said "good morning" to the gentleman refilling the cup of spoons just across the counter from me. No response. Ummm... okay.

I get my coffee, and wander through the open fellowship space, the narthex, and the entryway smile politely at people, say a couple of "hi"s, and read most of their bulletin boards and announcements and such, including their renovation layout plans. I even stand in front of their "visitor info" and read through a copy of their newsletter. They also have two permanent name tag stands, where regular members can pick out their name tags to wear every Sunday. However there is no table or location for guests to create a name tag. Strange.

I get myself a 2nd cup of coffee and sit down at an empty round table. Two people sit down across from me shortly thereafter. I smile. They ignore me. Two more gentleman promptly join the other two and have a casual financial meeting of sorts. One of these latter two men keeps looking at me. I make eye contact and smile, politely drinking my coffee. This goes on for several minutes, them having their non-meeting meeting with guy eyeing me and me drinking coffee, trying not to eavesdrop but still looking at them occasionally. It finally gets so awkward I just get up and leave.

The service was fine, their adult choir is amazing, doing a piece I know Nordic's done before. The sermon is a bit awkward to me because the pastor is REALLY pushing/stretching the mountaintop talk with God analogy. Partially because I envision such things so literally and partially because I've written a similar sermon, it doesn't resonate well. There was a mountaintop/baptism reference in their too (they had baptism at their first service) which I didn't completely follow. In the bulletin was a card that you could fill out for attendance purposes, the top portion for members and the lower for guests/visitors, which you just left in the pew following service.

After the service I am not welcomed by either pastor other than the generic "hello, good morning" recessional greeting. Everyone seems to vacate the premises instantly. There were no greeters. No one introduced themselves to me. No one asked me if I needed something, could find something, needed a name tag. Other than the sharing of the peace and a disabled woman asking me to return her Marty Haugen booklet for her, I felt invisible.

Some days its good to be invisible. Some days I want to be invisible. But there was a distinct lack of any sort of welcome. They didn't strike me as unfriendly people, there was just no system to deal with visitors who didn't come as guests of a congregant. Last week I was guest at a church in Rochester where I instantly felt comfortable. Granted, I knew one of the pastors. But even a different pastor greeted me amongst the throngs leaving the service with a hearty "Welcome! Thanks for coming!" -- he recognized he didn't know me as a regular member. And though I was proactive in starting the conversation, I had a nice, albeit rather odd, exchange with the woman at the "welcome desk."

Anyway. Whatever. I just came home feeling stressed and a bit disheartened. And searching for welcoming, vibrant churches is a daunting task by website alone.

Blah. /sigh.

Me, Myself and Theology part 2

Finally. Part 2!

Except I've long forgotten what part 2 was supposed to be about. But it's my blog, so keep your judgmental thoughts to yourself! If they're merely curious thoughts, feel free to share. :)

During a conversation with a friend last night (yay, the phone finally rang!) I was told of my return to church plan and general spiritual stirrings: "Just don't do any theological heavy lifting just yet." My first response was a light-hearted "Why not?!"

On the one hand, I understand the point. I've been apart from church for a long time. I acknowledge that in the process of return to actual ritual and worship, I must be careful not to overdose too early, to not crack the fragile vulnerabilities. Yet this does not, now that I ponder it, feel fragile. Slow and developing, yes. And a bit tempestuous. Insistent.

However, as the content of this blog attests, I've never been totally separated from the theological musings part of myself. I can't be, because such a woman does not exist. Mostly, they just rattle around in my brain, nebulous.

Furthermore, the theology was never the problem. I've never been crushed in my pursuit of academics or theology, but in pursuit of ministry. Grad school kept getting postponed because my sense of call, my confidence and trust in myself to make the right decision about the right program about the right school - was shattered, then crushed, then melted down and buried. Sure, I might be unsure or disagree or have unfixed opinions on some things, but theology is not made me stop going to church. Theologizing is what keeps me sane amidst the chaos -- in CPE my life was chaos but I put myself in a position to learn and to keep being challenged by my peer group. Granted, at the time I had a more difficult time differentiating theologizing from spiritual needs, but that's always been one of my tangles.

No, theological heavy lifting is not what I need to avoid. I've not been immersed in it because I've been avoiding all things LSTC and church and theology by nature are all sort of linked together (duh). So yes, I must move slowly. I must take care how I approach re-entering the world of church and liturgy and adult forums and being a member of that community. But if I am to succeed, it will be partially through my theological heavy lifting and not because I am shying from it.

Endless Wednesday

Blargh.

This week feels like it's been about 10 days long already, and it's only halfway through Wednesday. I feel drained when I need to be focused, preoccupied when I need to be driven.

I've been laying my heart on the line all week, writing emails and letters, sending friend requests and short little questions via facebook messaging... and I've got no feedback. Not a peep. I realize, yes, that it is only Wednesday after all. Three of my correspondences, for my rec letters, didn't even reach their destinations until today, if not tomorrow. But the waiting and anticipation is the worst. I sit on the couch and will someone to call, hoping the phone will ring. Which hasn't worked yet, obviously.

I miss Luther. I miss several specific friends who are too far away and with whom I haven't had coffee in too long. God's tugging at my heart again. I need some pastoral care, but am not sure where to turn. Part of me is contemplating a weekend in the Luther library to work on my grad school stuff, and maybe from there go to church at a dear friend's congregation in Rochester, MN -- but I only really want to go if he's preaching. I need him to preach to me, for I need to hear grace.

I know I can go hear many pastors preach, good pastors, good Lutheran grace-filled pastors, in a whole host of places closer than where he is. But it is like being called home. To reset myself, I need the familiar, the friendly, to go back to where I was once whole so I can feel that confidence and faith and goodness. I don't want to revert back to then, just to be reminded, to be refreshed. Maybe that doesn't make any sense to anyone but me.

Last night I took a bubble bath, lit some candles, cracked open an alcoholic beverage or two and put some music on. I needed a good cry, but by the time I made it into the tub, was more in just a relaxing mode. Until Casting Crowns, "Here I Go Again" came on and I thought about the former boss/friend who's quit speaking to me entirely and won't even accept a facebook friend request -- and all the emotion of the past few weeks started to leak out through my eyes. But it was a very short cry, because even though I need it, couldn't sustain it. I dunno.

Father, hear my prayer / I need the perfect words / words that he will hear / and know they're straight from you / I don't know what to say / I only know it hurts / to watch my only friend / slowly fade away

So maybe this time / I'll speak the words of Life / with Your fire in my eyes / But those old familiar fears / are tearing at my words / What am I so afraid of? / Here I go again.

Jars of Clay on shuffle

Broken stained-glass windows/ the fragments ramble on / a tale of broken souls / an eternity's been won / as critics scorn the thoughts and works of mortal man / my eyes are drawn to you in awe once again
Here I am again! Months (and months) after my last post. I think I am resigned to the fact that my blogging only appears when I need it. /shrug/

I got a new toy for Christmas - a 5th generation iPod nano! I spent one Saturday, about three weeks ago, downloading a bunch of cds into my iTunes, and now drag the thing most everywhere.

I am applying to graduate school, too! University of Wisconsin-Green Bay is my goal school. I need to finish my c.v. and my graduate assistantship apps. More work than that, such as my personal statement, is still necessary for Indiana University at Bloomington. Reference letters and transcripts will be en route to each destination shortly. In light of this, I've been writing and letters. Starting with my former CPE supervisor after I stumbled upon a bunch of the material in a desk drawer while looking for something else. Then to each of my recommendation-letter writers - three of my favorite people and professors from Luther. And I've kept going. Another email went to my former boss from Colorado and today another went to a friend from seminary.

I think it's safe to say I'm in a reconnection phase. Ben's death illuminated various aspects of my life, and as discussed with a friend, brought a sense of "calling us home." For me, this is no more clearly noted than in something with my faith and spirituality. Not my theological brain, that's inspired differently. But my iPod now contains a small handful of Christian cds, music I've shied from intentionally for almost four years now, along with most things "church." But this afternoon, Jars of Clay, the original album, is on shuffle. If you've talked with me at all over the past few years, you might realize just how huge that is. Coming back from lunch, "Like a Child" and "Art in Me" struck a chord and I felt like reaching for the phone to call a friend or two -- but at the same time hate to ask them for pastoral care when I haven't caught up with them as friends and people for so long.

I'm distracted at work (which is okay right now, there's hardly anything to do this month now that the clusterf&^# of the computer/billing crash is now over), and easily brought to tears. When I called a friend Saturday and he didn't have time to talk, I got a little melancholy. Things are stirring and I'm not really sure what to do with it.

You can't hear what I'm not saying / And I can hold out long enough / And treading water I'll keep from sinking / 'cuz I'm not one for reaching / You see that I can play a pretty convincing role / So I don't need you, I don't think I need you / But you see my forever lies and you are not believing / And I see in your forever eyes that you are forever healing