Getting On with It, or, I Postpone Setting Up My New Computer

Consider as made the usual apology for not posting for a long while.  I am not living in my car or under a bridge--yet-- but in my house at home.  As the Beatles sang a few (!) years ago, "I get by with a little help from my friends."  And my family.  And a little freelancing here and there.  And with the help of a part time job working at what I discreetly call The Big Blue Box Store, so as not to violate any company policies should I ever want to do a gripe-and-moan about my experiences there.  Started as a seasonal employee late last March, but was promoted to permanent part time a couple weeks ago.  No raise in pay, but if I take advantage of the medical benefits it offers, it should keep me clear of any awkwardness when the Obamacare ax falls in October.

And as of the 27th of this month, all this might be augmented by the pay I'd get teaching a couple sections of English at our county community college.  My friend Frieda* tipped me off they were hiring adjunct professors, I went on the website and applied, and the head of the Liberal Arts department liked what he saw.  English Literature, and Writing, it would be, and since due to the same Obamacare the college took forever determining their hiring needs, I'll have less than a week to check out the curriculum and draw up lesson plans and evaluation procedures.

Scary.

But the really scary thing was the behavior of my computer, the very one I'm composing this post on, the HP Pavilion Slimline s7600y I purchased in January 2007.  As a teacher on the college level (my past integration into Oxford ways makes me very reluctant to call myself a "professor" of any kind), I'll have to have a computer that works.  There will be student work to pull up, grades to be submitted, emails to be answered and written, and, heaven help us, possible instances of plagiarism to investigate.  I can't be spending a literal hour and a half doing fifteen minutes worth of work, because the stupid system is taking so jolly long to load.

And that's what it was doing every lousy day, up to two weeks ago.  I've gone to sleep on the floor of my study wrapped up in an old blanket with the dog more than once, waiting for a download to complete. Frustrating isn't half the word for it.  And with everything I have to complete and do, especially with the public schools restarting in a week or so and substitute teacher calls resuming soon thereafter, I don't have time for the nonsense.

So two weeks ago I went online to see if HP or any other brand had any slimline towers I could afford.  (Call me a stick-in-the-mud for going for a PC again.  I have my reasons, which I won't detail here.  And it has to be a slimline, for space reasons.)  And lo!  Best Buy had one, an HP 400 Slimline, very highly rated, on sale for $369.99.  Excellent price, especially as Amazon.com was offering the same machine for $599.99.

Now, I have no money.  Everybody knows that.  But as I said before, as a community college teacher I can't be limping along with a computer I constantly have to hard-reboot to make it function.  So after church two Sundays ago I travelled over to the nearest Best Buy that had the HP 400 in stock and bought the silly thing.

Of course, it wasn't a matter of plunking down the $369.99-plus-tax and walking out with it.  Oh, no.  This puppy runs Windows 8, and as the song says, "Suddenly, nothing, nothing, nothing is the same."  Windows 8 doesn't play nice with older software.  Me, I have a lot of what I believe are called "legacy" programs running on my current machine's XP-Pro operating system. Like, um, WordPerfect 6.1, which I like just fine.  And Quicken 2009.  And Lotus Organizer 5.0.  I have no desire to upgrade or change to different software, and even if I did, I don't have the hundreds of dollars that would run me.  This being the case, I had to throw down another goodish chunk of change for the "Win Pro Pack 8" that's supposed to let me run my old software on Windows 8, once I create a virtual partition for them.  And in the wisdom of the geniuses in Redmond, Washington, Win8 won't run any Windows Office versions before Office 2013.  Thanks, guys.  So there's another charge for the "Home and Student 2013" version of that, because, WordPerfect lover that I am, most church secretaries prefer to converse in Word.  Throw in a 32GB flashdrive to create the operating system backup, and we're talking a real investment.

But as I said, the way the old s7600y was dragging along, it was necessary.

So why am I still working on the old computer?

Well, part of it is the fact that I wanted/needed to clear the decks before I set up the new computer.  I literally had not entered anything into my financial software since before tax time last April, and my study was awash in receipts, statements, file folders, and other accounting flotsam and jetsam.  There was no room to put the new system together.

And what if I can't get the virtual partition to work?  I wanted to get my Quicken accounts all entered and balanced before I cut myself off myself off from the use of the software, because it's mentally wearing to not really know where I am financially.  Now, I know good and well I'll still have the use of the old computer, once I get a second monitor.  It's not like it's totally given up the ghost.  Really, what I wanted to do was to clear out my mind as I cleared the paperwork out of my study.  I didn't feel I could enjoy the new computer until I had.

I haven't had many hours in the day to spare for this task these past two weeks.  Bt at last it's done, everything is balanced (well, mostly everything), and as of two nights ago the paperwork is filed and put away.  And as of this afternoon, I've finished entering my checking account transactions into my physical checkbook register, which I hadn't done since last February, for goodness sakes.

So why does the new machine still sit unopened in its box over here on the floor?  Why haven't I run to break it open and explore its wonders?

Maybe because I know it's going to take hours and hours to set up, and I don't feel like investing that right now.

Maybe because I'm afraid, as I said above, that I won't be able to get the virtual partition to work.  Or that if I can, it's going to take forever and I'll be cut off from virtual civilization (i.e., the software programs I depend on) until I can get it all to behave.

It's not that I'm afraid of Windows 8, not in itself, apart from what it'll mean for my accustomed programs. Clerk at the Best Buy let me fool with it a little, and I'm sure I can deal with it, even though it seems a little silly.  I mean, don't we all have enough problems with "Ooooo, shiny!" tendencies these days without graphic tiles sitting on our desktops tempting us to open Facebook and Hulu and Netflix when we should be working?

Maybe I'm so addicted to having a computer (that is, the Internet) running that I don't want to shut the old one down long enough to set the new one up.  (When I was doing up the s7600y I had a laptop open next to it.)

Which leads me to maybe the biggest reason I haven't set the 400 up yet.  Because, gosh darn it, for the last week or more my old PC has gone back to functioning.  It has hardly frozen up at all.  No problem opening anything.  Videos and audio files have been playing just fine.  You'd think it'd gotten wind I was planning on replacing it and wanted me to change my mind.  Maybe it will keep it up.  So why should I stop using it?

Besides, I got a call the other day from the Liberal Arts department secretary at the community college and she said that due to low pre-enrollment, there's a good chance the classes I was supposed to teach will be cancelled or rolled into the schedules of full-time faculty.  They won't know for sure until final enrollment the end of this coming week.  So maybe the need that job posed will disappear.

Maybe.

And maybe this old machine will go contrary on me again.  And maybe I'd like to use the drafting software I downloaded awhile back, that I can never seem to get open, let alone draw with.  Maybe there will be enough students for those English sections, and I'll be stuck after the 27th with an old computer that won't work and a new one sitting in the box with no time to install it.

So I guess I'd better woman up and at least begin.  Besides, I'll be moving the old one down to the dining room.  It'll still be there when I need it, I just won't be asking it to do quite so much.

And maybe with a newer, faster computer, I might post here more often.

Or maybe not.

Chicken

It may have been noticed that I haven't posted since last August.  Some of that is busyness, some of it is laziness, a lot of it is childishness, but most of it has been cowardice.

Yes, cowardice.  This past autumn I interviewed for a half-time position as an interim pastor with a parish in my presbytery.  During the interview, I mentioned that they could see a sampling of my sermon style on my preaching blog.  Makes sense, right?

What I forgot was that the sermon blog was linked to this one.  And one of the committee members clicked through, found this blog, and, as she wrote me in an email, was deeply disturbed by what she read here.  Seems I was too open with my revelations about how things had gone in my previous parishes, and although I had disguised church and presbytery names well enough, it bothered her.

We talked on the phone about it, and she professed herself reassured about my history and my explanation of it, and said she'd only mention it to the other committee members if she felt she should.  But I didn't feel easy about it.  Up to that time I was pretty sure I'd be offered this job.  After this, I felt my past and my big mouth had come back to bite me again.

It's very like me to write and reveal and not expect what I've written to have any effect in the real world.  Hey, I think in imaginary conversations where I work out how I would explain things to other people; isn't a blog just more of the same?

No.  I guess it's not.  You know the term "chilling effect"?  That's what this had on me.  I felt literally cold inside. I took the link to here off the sermon blog.  And for months I've written nothing.  I was afraid to write anything.  Not here, at least.  Too paralyzed thinking about how what I say can be misconstrued or used against me.

Chicken, chicken, chicken.

As it turned out, after observing certain things while guest preaching in that parish, I decided the position was not for me.  It would have been impossible to do all that was wanted and needed on a mere half-time basis.  But for whatever reason I didn't ring them up and say so.  Maybe I wanted to be convinced otherwise, since I really need the work.  Eventually I heard from the search committee chairman himself: they were going on with other candidates.  I bit the bullet and asked what had eliminated me.  The answers weren't totally convincing, I thought.  Had the one committee member told them about this blog, and he didn't want to say so?  Better not to ask.  And as I said, by that time I'd tacitly withdrawn myself.

That's been almost four months ago, and I hope and expect they're beyond caring what I say here.  But I guess it's a lesson.  I have to be willing to stand up and take the heat for what I publish, or shut the dickens up.

Well, All Right

A friend who follows this blog mentioned on Facebook this evening that I'd been leaving all three of you dangling for several weeks.

All right, let's do a highlight reel.

1) Not sure what was wrong with the car, but it hasn't done it since.  The garage thinks maybe a piece of dirt stopped the fan and that's why it overheated.  They didn't charge me for checking it, which was nice.

2)  On the 19th of July I attended one of the American Cancer Society's "Look Good, Feel Better" makeup sessions.  It wasn't exactly what I expected.  I thought it'd deal specifically with how to mask the visible effects of chemotherapy, but it was more like basic this-is-how-you-put-on-makeup.  Good grief, I've known that since high school.  Well, I came home with some products I could use, so that's something.

3)  Twice now I've had to postpone my chemo treatment a week because my blood counts were too low.  I don't have much leeway to begin with, so it's not surprising that my white counts, especially, have taken a hit.  Thank God, they've come back up in time for me to get my infusions at a four week interval, with no supplementary blood-boosting drugs.  But the delays mean I won't  be finished until the 11th of October-- if I'm lucky.  It could stretch out to nearly Halloween.

4)  As far as effects go, tiredness is the main one.  It's hard to tell if I'm being lazy or if it's just chemo effect.  I know I don't get as much work done as I'd like to.  The hair, even after four treatments, isn't 100% gone, though alas, the eyebrows are flaking out a bit.  I admit I look in the mirror and see my little-old-man pate and think, "This is stupid!  I could have gone the rest of my life without this!"  But there it is.  And fortunately, I do okay with the wigs when I go out.  Otherwise, I let my head hang out around the house. And sometimes in the yard.  And the neighbors' yards.  Unless it's too hot or too chilly, that is. 

Everyone tells me how healthy I look.  This is good, I know, but sometimes I crave a little sympathy.

Or maybe I don't.  I don't like it when people patronize me over the chemo.


5)  I've been getting a shot at four different interim pastor positions the past three or four weeks.  "Three" I should say now, since one of the churches phoned me today and said they'd decided to hire someone else.  And that's the church that's given me the only real interview so far; the rest of them have been informal look-sees when I've come to supply preach.  I spent a week obsessing about that interview and getting really depressed about my prospects-- how to cover what happened in the past without making me or my former church or my presbytery look lame--, but I felt it went well on the day.  Not well enough, obviously.  But maybe it wasn't the right position for me anyway.  That church is in the middle of a worship war, with "contemporary" currently in the ascendency, and if there's anything I find to be a non-edifying, crashing bore, it's so-called contemporary worship.  I would not have been neutral, no matter how hard I tried!

I hope and pray something comes of one of these churches, since I can't support myself on substitute teaching.  (School year started here this past Tuesday, but I haven't been called in yet.)

That's good enough.  I'll try to be more diligent about posting in the future.  Besides, when you're in my position and you go silent, people might begin to worry.  I know I do.

Tests

Yesterday I had my neutral pulpit preach and pulpit committee interview for the church over in the next county.

I told myself to treat it just like any other pulpit supply engagement; to preach the Word and minister to the people and give God the glory. But I couldn't help it-- I was afflicted with a slight buzz of nerves. Not enough to make me mess anything up, but enough to make me trip over my mouth just a little more than usual. And to have lousy breath support during the hymns, despite what's been beaten into me at Monday night community choir practice.

The pastor search committee took me to a local family restaurant afterwards for the interview. It surprised me that they didn't take advantage of the loooonnnnng wait we had to get our food to start with the questions. Instead, general conversation prevailed. They waited to get down to business until everyone was halfway through their food. Not that good an idea with me-- I'm a slow eater, and if I have to interrupt my eating to answer or ask questions, I'll be slower still.

Interview seemed to go well . . . good interchange of ideas, lots of information given about the church and its ministry. But I don't think they asked me that many questions. Five or six, tops. And then the chairwoman looked around and said, "I think we've heard all we need to hear. Blogwen," she asked, "Is there anything else you wanted to ask?" And there was just that something that told me the answer she expected was, "No, thank you, of course not."

I ignored it. Maybe I shouldn't have, but if my asking more questions about the church and reflecting how my experience and ideas would fit in with them was going to blow my standing with a nominating committee, I don't know that I'd want to accept their call. Because if that's all it would take to lose their favor, better it should happen now rather than later, when I'm wrestling with church crocodiles.

In any event, at that stage it seemed the atmosphere stiffened. Arms were folded over breasts. Eyes seemed to convey a profound lack of interest. I asked how soon they hoped to make a decision, to judge whether I should say anything about my upcoming surgery. Chairwoman told me "We're in no hurry. We've just signed our interim pastor up for another six months. Though of course we can break that, if we get the Right Pastor in." Very, very non-committal.

They hope to all get together this coming Sunday to sort through the candidates they've interviewed and come up with a short list. They'll let me know after that.

Then it was over, everyone got up, and the previous friendly atmosphere prevailed once more.

So who knows what that will all mean.

This morning, then, I went in for my CT scan, up at the local hospital. I'm not totally sure what it's supposed to show; I mean, if the gyn-onc thinks the tumor is benign and I'm getting everything out in a week and a half, why not just do it and save the money? But I went.

Didn't realize they make you drink nearly a liter of iodine-laced sterilized water after you get there, then sit for an hour or so while it runs through. I guess the idea is to deposit the chemical, because they do let you use the loo before the scan.

Then, unlike others I saw there in the Radiology Imaging waiting room, I did not have to strip off and put on a hospital gown for my scan. Just lay there on the table-bed in my street clothes, with an IV drip going into my right arm. Thought it was very fortuitious that I happened to put on a pair of slacks with a side zipper this morning; nothing to get in the way of the x-rays.

There was a slight mishap when the nurse-technician didn't get the IV needle in right the first time and made me bleed on the bedsheet. But she got it in on the second try and fetched a towel to keep me and my cashmere sweater out of my own blood. And the only thing that (momentarily) concerned me about the procedure was the requirement that I lie with my arms stretched straight "above" my head. I have rather dodgy shoulder joints, which have been known to pop out of joint when I get into positions like that. Well, it hurt a little, but nothing shifted.

Through the IV they run another chemical-- I forget which one-- that interacts with the iodine and the x-rays to give a good picture. "It'll make you feel really warm for a minute," said the nurse tech. Fine with me-- I was freezing after all that cold water. When that was in me, I was ready to go.

The CT machine is like a big donut that they slide you in and out of. The funny thing is that a computer voice orders you to "Breathe in!"-- and I did, in my best choir intercostal style-- and then it told me to "Breathe!" What? I did just breathe! When may I exhale?

I asked the technician. Oh. For this machine, "Breathe!" does mean "Exhale."

Ha. Try telling that to my choir director.

I underwent this process three times, then the test was over. I asked about the breathing. That's to keep your organs still, she said. I asked could I see the pictures. That's for my surgeon to show me, she said. His office should be calling me on Thursday or Friday to tell me the results.

OK. So that's two tests in two days and we'll see how well I did on both.

Maybe?

Tomorrow I have my first neutral pulpit preach in about a million years. Meaning, since 2003.

And lunch and an interview with a pastor search committee after.

The church is a small but active one, over in the next county. Quite within driving distance, by Pittsburgh area standards. I could see myself ministering to them and with them. God willing the fact that I live the other side of the hills won't set up an obstacle in their minds.

It's a 2/3 time tentmaking position, meaning I'd still be substitute teaching. And who knows when I'd get any house renovating done.

Never mind. It's an opportunity. Lord willing, all will go well and they like me. And that they're willing to work around my upcoming surgery and ensuing driving ban. I suppose that if they like me enough to make me their pastor, that won't be a problem.

My sermon's written and I think it will preach. Next step, decide what to wear and get some sleep. First service is at 8:30 AM.

Fork in the Road?

I got my renewal papers for my out-of-state architectural license today, and they weren't exactly welcome.

It's not that I mind renewing my license. No, indeed. Just the opposite. The problem wasn't the renewal form, per se, it was the notice that came with it. As I'd read previously in the registration board newsletter, my home state will henceforth be strictly enforcing continuing education requirements, and if you haven't fulfilled yours in the past year, you should go on inactive status and can no longer call yourself or practice as an architect.

I don't want to go on inactive status. I want to keep my license active and current to maintain myself some semblance of marketability. But I haven't been able to gain any continuing ed credits this past year-- it's just too expensive. I mean, here I am, barely scraping by on part time work, and I'm supposed to blow $500 on a one-day conference for a couple of credit hours? That's the typical price for these continuing ed offers I get in the mail.

So I'm stuck. I have till the end of the year to do something about it. Between now and then I could find out how I'd get reactivated, once I put myself on the inactive list. Barring a miracle (like getting a full time job with a lot of Lunch-and-Learn continuing ed sessions where I can fulfill the requirements painlessly and for free), I don't see how it can be avoided.

I see myself heading down a road I don't want to travel. And from here, it looks like a dead end.

Finding My Strengths

Awhile back I bought a book called Now, Discover Your Strengths by Marcus Buckingham and Donald O. Clifton. Backed by the Gallup Organization, the authors promote the hypothesis that people are most likely to succeed and excel in all areas of life by determining and honing their talents or strengths, not by trying to correct their weaknesses. After years of research involving surveys of literally millions of people, Buckingham and Clifton established a list of thirty-four strengths. What's a strength? It's a positive theme of talent marked by "spontaneous, top-of-the-mind reactions, . . . yearnings, rapid learnings, and satisfactions."

Included in the price of the book was a log-in code which would enable the purchaser to take the online StrengthsFinder Profile. This is a paired statements instrument reflecting the survey responses the authors had received from literally millions of people and calibrated to replicate how successful people with various talents had tended to answer. Not opposites, not right-vs.-wrong; rather, designed to reflect predominant patterns. Eighty-five questions ranked from Strongly Agree to Strongly Disagree, with an option for "Neutral" in the middle.

For various reasons I put off taking this instrument. But a couple nights ago I finally did. My top five out of the thirty four are listed above. The only ones that I think need explanation are "Context," which has to do with finding understanding and foundations for present action in historical realities, and "Input," which doesn't mean I like to put my oar in with other people, but that I revel in collecting input and information of all sorts, whether I need it right now or not.

I can see myself in these . . . There are one or two other themes I really thought I'd come up with instead or too, but maybe they're my No. 6 and No. 7. I can't find out, though--unless and until I pay a healthy chunk of change to the Gallup Organization for a consultation with a strengths coach.

Buckingham and Clifton make a good point in that strengths are not weaknesses. If say, my Input strength seems to be leading me astray as I stay up half the night looking up random facts on the Internet, it's because I lack the concomitant strength of Discipline. This is good for me to remember, because I've had authority figures in my past who have made out that my signature strengths themes are really failings and deficiencies. Especially in terms of pastoral ministry.

So what do I do with this knowledge now? I guess that's what I should learn, put into context, get an idea about, gather input, and then go on to chart a strategy.

No, seriously, if I trust this StrengthsFinder instrument and its results, maybe the first thing I have to do is accept these qualities about myself and embrace them as useful, valuable, and good.

Teachability

It's time for Season 5 of Hell's Kitchen, and not having a cable connection I watch it on Hulu.com.

I watched the first two episodes the other night, and it struck me how Chef Ramsay and Colleen, the 41-year-old cooking school instructor from Nebraska, started butting heads from the very start.

It reached an early low in Episode 2, when he accused her of stealing from her students, he considered her to be such a bad cook.

On first exposure, this seemed over the top and unfair. And possibly dangerous, as I seriously doubt she's going to last on the show much longer, and after talk like this from Gordon Ramsay, who will want to take cooking lessons from her? What if she sues for deprivation of livelihood?

But thinking about it, maybe she's asking for it. Her attitude seems to be that she's what's needed to be a chef in the new restaurant in Atlantic City, right now, just as she is. That her appearance on Hell's Kitchen is all and only about revealing that marvellous reality to Chef Ramsay and the world. She doesn't seem interested in learning anything; in fact, she feels she can teach him a thing or two. Like, his spaghetti sauce recipe can really be improved by adding mascarpone cheese, oh, yeah, and if she mis-cooks a simple salmon filet or uses a dirty pan because she's overlooked five clean ones not three feet away from her, that's not her fault. She has an excuse for everything and her failure in basic kitchen practice shouldn't matter.

I have to contrast her with last year's winner, Christina from St. Louis. What stood out to me about Christina was the way she was always observing and learning. Even during the rewards and the day-off trips, she was always looking, listening, questioning, analyzing, and gathering new information about fine food and its preparation.

This post really isn't about Colleen of Nebraska or Christina of St. Louis. It's about job seekers like me who have to consider whether we're holding ourselves back by a perceived or real lack of teachability. It's about anybody who makes a job opportunity all about themselves instead of what they can offer to the organization. It's also about the difficult balance between the need to be recognized for one's years of experience and the humility required when starting over in a new field or on a different level.

I haven't figured out yet what the precise application of the story is for me. But I can't help thinking about it. Maybe I'm feeling uncomfortable because I've sometimes come off like a know-it-all like Colleen. Maybe I'm afraid, on the other hand, that seeming too teachable will mean denying my true abilities and confine me to the lowest rung of any given ladder.

But maybe this is an object lesson in knowing myself and my own capabilities, in distinguishing between self-confidence that's justified and the kind that's just a hollow shell. Being teachable doesn't exclude being competent. And high pressure and heat will sort out true competence from sham posturing-- even if you're not competing in Hell's Kitchen.

The Last Shall Be First

Tonight was our first Village Singers performance of the 2008-2009 concert season, or maybe it was the last concert of the 2007-2008 run.

It definitely was a reprise of our spring concert program, done at a church that couldn't fit us in last May but could this evening.

The concert went well; at least Linda our director was pleased, and she's pretty darn particular, especially about little things like harsh terminal rrrrs and people not holding legato lines or singing in their throats.

The interesting thing for me was that the venue was a church in a nearby town that's been without a pastor for a year or more. They'd had one interim pastor and I'd heard in late June that they might be looking for another. So I sent my church resume in. When I didn't hear back, following up was difficult, since the only contact information was via snail-mail in care of the church. And I admit I didn't feel it was worth it, as in August my executive presbyter enthusiastically mentioned during a committee meeting how the interim pastor had ripped out the Communion table, font, and pulpit, got rid of the hymnals, and installed the praise band's instruments front and center on the chancel. Me, I do not consider endless theologically-shallow chorusses to be a Means of Grace, so I figured that church wouldn't want me anyway.

But earlier this month I encountered some folks who know people who go to that church, and they told me my EP had gotten it totally wrong. Yes, they do have a praise band that plays sometimes, but everything else is still there, too.

Well then. Tonight was my chance to talk to someone face to face and see where things stood.

Hmm. Hymnals still in the pews. Communion table, font, pulpit, all still there on the platform, only moved aside to make room for our choir risers.

But were they still looking for a follow-on interim pastor? Had they even received my resume at all?

I found my opportunity as we were sitting in the fellowship hall, waiting to go on. I approached the elder who was expediting our performance, and asked him about it.

"Oh! I wish we'd had a chance to talk to you sooner!" Obviously, he'd never seen my resume. "We've decided not to get another interim; we think we're farther along in our search for a permanent pastor than that. But we've hired a seminary student to come in and fill our pulpit every Sunday. He starts the beginning of November."

I found out who this is: He's also the youth director at another church in the area. We voted him in as an official candidate for ministry at the presbytery meeting last Tuesday.

"He was recommended by the executive presbyter," said my informant.

Oh, gee, thanks, Mr. EP, sir, I didn't say. Thanks for the vote of confidence, not even giving them my name so they could at least talk to me.

But then I think back to that committee meeting in August, when the EP was describing how this church was proving its missional bona fides by minimizing the traditional media of church growth and nurture, e.g., the Word and Sacraments, and exalting contemporary, popular means like praise music. When it came time to recommend a steady pulpit supply for this church, that young man's name and reputation automatically must have come to him.

Or maybe my EP didn't think I'd be interested in a steady pulpit supply position.

However it was, the elder I talked to tonight asked me to give him my card anyway. "You never know," he said.

I don't expect anything out of it under the circs, but he might know somebody who knows somebody who needs an interim pastor. The more my name is out there, the better.

Lost in the Sticks

I am not a happy camper.

Today was Day Two of our western-part-of-the-synod leadership conference, and oh, yes, the camp where it was held is very rural and attractive. I wish I'd had more time to explore the paths and hills.

But today, the personal and group reflection activities had more and more to do with how we were going to put the principles we'd learned to work in our parishes, and I'm thinking, Rot it, but I don't have a parish! Oh dear, oh dear, the day is coming to an end and I'm coming to the end of what I can use now!

And never, ever, since first thing yesterday, did we talk about It, about the Pastor Competency Model.

That is, not until about twenty minutes before the end, when a guy who pastors a church in my town got up and made an argument for it. "At first I thought it was really legalistic," he said, "but then I realized you can't be a good pastor without having all fifteen of these competencies."

Yeah, maybe, sure, but these precise interview questions designed to bring out whether you have these competencies, since when are they unchangeable holy scripture? Funny, yesterday I was afraid we'd be addressing them and my lack of experience would be revealed, but today I wanted us to confront them head on so I could find out how strict and absolute they were. But nothing was officially said.

I couldn't leave without knowing. So after we were dismissed, I accompanied the official from Big City Presbytery* back to her lodgings, to ask her about it in private.

She confirmed that they instruct interview committees to use these questions not just for potential solo and senior pastors, but for associate pastors as well.

"I can see," I said, "how someone who had several years experience in ministry could answer all these satisfactorily, but what about someone, say, who's just out of seminary?"

"Oh," she answered cheerfully, "the answers don't have to be restricted to someone's time in ministry! We figure if someone is the right kind of candidate, they will have done all these things sometime in their lives before that! Besides, the questions aren't about experience anyway, they're about competencies!"

I would beg to differ-- few of the questions leave you open to describe what you have accomplished under a given competency, they assume you have had particular experiences and accomplished certain things, in a congregational context, and call on you to describe how they went! Good things to have done if one has done them, certainly, but not all things that can be taken care of in the first years of a ministry, let alone in a student internship.

But this wasn't the time or the place to deal with the matter. She had to hurry off to another engagement. But she gave me her card and told me to ring her up to discuss it.

Will I or won't I? On one hand, it might be useful to explore what sort of answers might be considered satisfactory should I get an interview out of one or more of the feelers I've put out in Big City Presbytery.*

On the other hand, I've definitely learned from a misspent ministerial life that it's a mistake to put too much confidence in presbytery officials, especially when it involves revealing one's self-doubts. In my experience they tend to take you entirely too much at your own estimation. And when they could stand between you and getting a post, we're talking fatal error.

No, I have to face this thing and find my own way out of this forest. I need to consider how I might answer these forty-five questions if I'm ever called on to do so. And where I can't by myself, I should consult people who know me and my work to give me perspective. Maybe I've done a lot of these things and never even realized it!

Church Nightmares?

As if I hadn't enough to keep me busy, I've become a Gordon Ramsay junkie. I don't have cable TV, but I managed to catch every episode of Hell's Kitchen Season 4 on Hulu.com. And when I get time, I watch episodes of Kitchen Nightmares (UK version, of course) on YouTube.

For the uninitiated, Gordon Ramsay is a world-class, Scottish-born, f-bomb-dropping chef with twelve Michelin stars and millions of dollars per year in revenue from his various restaurants worldwide. On Kitchen Nightmares, he spends a week at some tanking restaurant somewhere and, at little or no cost to the establishment (as I understand it), works with might, main, and brain to pull them out of the soup.

Time and again, the featured restaurant is going down because the owners/head chefs have some fixed idea of what their eatery should be like, but it bears no relation to what they can actually cook and serve, what ingredients are affordable and available, or what the potential customers actually like and want. And Chef Ramsay's fix generally is, "Find out what you can do and do it attractively and well. Let your customers know what you have now that you have your act together. Stop trying to attract the type of customers who aren't out there. Stop trying to be too clever-- keep it simple and uncomplicated. And while you're at it, clean out your f*cking [sorry, wouldn't be GR without the f-word at least once] deep-freeze and kitchen!!"

But O! the nightmare! It never fails: The owners/chefs seldom listen to Ramsay. Often they sabotage what he's trying to do. They want to go on doing exactly what's got them in the mess in the first place. But O, Chef Gordon, save us! Pull our chestnuts out of the fire!!

Last Sunday, I couldn't help but think of Gordon Ramsay and Kitchen Nightmares. I was being interviewed for an Interim Pastor position at a church over in an adjacent county. And practically the first thing I heard from the interviewing committee was how wonderful it used to be with them back in the 1980s, when their youth group was bursting the church at the seams. Practically the first question I got was how good was I at relating to youth.

But do they have any teenagers among the church membership right now? Apparently very few. Are there gangs and gangs of unchurched teenagers in the church's catchment area right now? Apparently they have no idea.

Is it a good thing to be a church with a lot of families with well-involved teenaged kids? Oh, certainly, yes. But is that where this church is now? No. Are families with teenagers the type of people who are living in that area, spiritually starving for the good news of Jesus Christ? What if they're not?

But they want to hire an interim pastor who can come in for a year and miraculously revive their image of themselves as the church with all the kids. Never mind the unchurched people of whatever age who are actually there in the neighborhood and need to be ministered to. Never mind that the talents and gifts of the people of the church might go better to serve a totally different demographic. We have our image of what we want to be, and you'd better buy into it, Pastor, whether it's realistic or not!!!

I told them, yes, I'm pretty good at working with kids--if I'm allowed to be an adult and a mentor and not a superannuated ersatz-teenager buddy. But maybe, I suggested, what if the Holy Spirit just might be leading them to other fields of ministry that better fit who they are now . . . ???

I felt like Gordon Ramsay telling the owner of a pub in Lancashire to knock it off with the exotic Asian stuff out of mixes and try serving up good fresh honest pub grub for a change.

I can't take the Kitchen Nightmares analogy too far: There's one fixed item on any church's menu that can not and must not change, whether the public thinks they want it or not: Jesus Christ crucified for our sins and risen for our life. But how the church lives out that good news in 2008 may not be just as it was in 1985!

I wouldn't be surprised if they don't hire me. They also want their new IP to generate a lot of new programs, and I told them that programs have to follow needs, and be run by the members. And they're hoping their new Interim Pastor will move into the manse. No, not feasible. Not for a one-year contract. Alas! that's another dream of theirs I've destroyed.

But I can't rule them out myself. This dream-on attitude is endemic with most struggling mainline churches. It'd be the same anywhere else!

If I were to be taken on at this church, I'd have it easier than Gordon Ramsay in one way-- I'd have a year to redd up the place, where he only has a week. But it'd be a lot harder, too-- I can't overawe anybody with the ecclesiastical equivalent of twelve Michelin stars . . . and unlike Chef Ramsay, I am not permitted to cuss.

What Happened

I've met this evening with my Committee on Ministry.

It's been a few years since my Scouting days, but I am yet undergirded by the motto, "Be Prepared."

And I was. A week or two ago I caught a rumor or two of what might be wrong. That maybe they thought I hadn't done some things I was asked to do when my last call ended four years ago. So I got to work and documented that I'd taken care of all but one thing, and that one thing depended upon others, not on me.

I presented this to my executive presbyter before the main meeting, and by the time I was called in, it was no longer an issue.

I was prepared.

But I wasn't prepared for some other things.

I asked for this meeting because one committee member told me, "You're being stymied for some reason, and you need to find out why."

Turned out, I'm not exactly being stymied. At least, not by my presbytery. Tonight I learned they have referred me for Interim Pastor positions-- it was the churches who chose not to ring me up. And as for why I've had only a handful of contacts via our centralized PC(USA) computerized church-pastor dating service in Lullvull, and why Lullvull made me no matches at all from late January to early May-- I should ask Lullvull. My presbytery hasn't been saying unflattering things about me!

Let me tell you, this made me feel like an idiot. But saying, "But Leslie* said I was being stymied!" would not cut it. It would impress no one with my grace and maturity. No.

So I asked what would make them feel able to enthusiastically recommend me if a church did call them for a reference.

Are you prepared for this?-- (I wasn't)-- they said, "Get a job."

Ain't that something to make a girl feel like a pimply twenty-four-year-old drinking beer and watching ESPN on his mother's coach at 3:00 in the afternoon on a weekday!

They said they want something definite to say when inquiring pulpit committees inquire, "What is she doing now?" And, they reminded me, a suitable church position may not come up for me for months still. And no, it wouldn't be rude or unchristian to quit my secular job to follow my dream when one does.

I see. Working on my house (sometimes) and in the garden does not give them a high opinion of my industry. Nor, I suppose, do part time pulpit supply, sending out resumes, and hoping people look at the ads on my blogs cut it for them as great ways to support myself.

Well, I've got this application for a manager trainee position at a grocery store chair, and they're paying more than I've ever made in my life. And I suppose if I'm hungry enough I'll make myself get up in time to open the store and receive shipments and all by 5:00 AM . . .

But I've got a couple of architects to bother as well. If anybody's building anything in this blinking economic climate!

Steady On

I heard from the chairman of my Committee on Ministry this afternoon. I'm on the docket for the July 7th meeting, hopefully to find out why so many restrictions have been put on me regarding prospective fields of ministry, and to see what can be done about it.

And my response was not relief and gratitude, but gut-level panic.

Steady on, girl. The only reason ever given to me for the restrictions was that I seemed to "need more mentoring than usual." I know what I can and will say to that. But there's always the paranoid fear that There's Something They're Not Telling You, something so awful you'll melt in terror to hear it about yourself.

I lived with that sensation when I had trouble with my presbytery in the Midwest, nine years ago, at the start of my ordained ministry. To make things worse, that COM's attitude was that if I didn't know what I'd done wrong, it just went to prove I wasn't "self-aware" enough to pastor a church. They weren't going to enlighten me!

It made me wonder if, all unbeknownst to myself, I was going out in the village at night and gibbering obscenities under people's windows.

When at last I (and most of my church session) couldn't stand it anymore, I was driven to hire a crackerjack employment law attorney (who was also a Presbyterian deacon) who made the COM chairman 'fess up. My sins? I'd refused to let the retired pastor of the church resume and continue his ministry through me, and I'd proved how "unpastoral" I was by preaching a sermon series on the articles of the Apostles' Creed!

Oh, dear.

That was another presbytery, another COM, another COM chairman. It was the former chairman of the COM here who came up with the "needs an unusual amount of mentoring" rationale. I have to wonder, did this opinion of his come from conversations with the presbytery in the Midwest?

And are they still angry at me because I faced them with that attorney? Angry enough to muddy my chances here?

Good grief, I hope not.

But if I'm going to prove on the 7th that all that-- however much of "all that" there really was-- is in the past, the stomach will have to give the thinking duties back to the brain.

Thank God, I've got three weeks to get my head, stomach, and heart all back where they belong!

Do or Die?

I've emailed the chairman of my presbytery's Committee on Ministry asking to be put on their docket this coming Monday evening.

A presbytery's COM is its gatekeeper, pre-examining pastors who wish to serve within its bounds. And, along with the Executive Presbyter, it recommends--or doesn't recommend-- member pastors who wish to serve churches anywhere in the Presbyterian Church (USA) nationwide.

For the last four years I've been stymied by my COM. I've been limited on what ministries I may undertake and I haven't been referred even for the sorts I am technically allowed.

I've told myself that that was because I had an architecture job for a couple of years. Then I thought it was because nothing in my categories had come up. Then I thought maybe it was a case of out of sight, out of mind.

I've gone to work to rectify that. I've gotten myself on a presbytery committee. I see the EP at least once a month and ask him what's available. I've written a letter to the COM chair. I've lobbied people I know who are on COM. I ask fellow pastors to keep their ears open for churches that are coming open in their areas.

But nothing has come of any of it. I know that opportunities have come available. And somehow, the powers that be haven't seen fit to refer me even for an interview.

I wasn't present at the COM meeting four years ago when the decision was made to limit me. The only "specific" comment was that I seemed to need more mentoring than usual.

To what did this refer? I know I was unable to control the ruling family in my last call-- but neither were any of the previous pastors going back twenty years or more. I considered that maybe the difference is that the previous pastors (all men) toughed it out until they couldn't take it any more, then circulated their CVs and got new positions. They didn't bring the COM into it.

I did. Should I have kept my mouth shut about it? A fellow pastor who was on the administrative commission that took over the rulership of that church four years ago says no. He says I did a good thing for that congregation by reporting the shenanigans of my bull elder and his kin. They jumped ship to another denomination and the church is now recovering under the leadership of a new pastor.

While I, their indirect benefactor, am still treading water, doing nothing but pulpit supply.

I've been making myself visible in presbytery meetings. I have, I hope, demonstrated my capabilities as I make statements and ask questions graciously, forthrightly, and succinctly. I hope to show myself to be a competent person who can take a stand in a respectful, collegial manner, and not be turned to mush by the prospect of opposition.

Or am I totally wrong about this? Last meeting, I asked for what I thought was a simple doctrinal clarification from a man being examined for membership in the presbytery. He was confused and I had to retreat unsatisfied. On my return to my seat, a fellow pastor leaned over to me and said, "He probably thought you were trying to catch him out because you're a woman. He doesn't realize you're conservative." Do my fellow presbyters, clergy and lay, merely see me as unfeminine and over-intellectual and thereby, automatically, insensitive and unpastoral?

(That specious and false link was made by a previous presbytery several years ago.)

Well, yesterday we women clergy met for our monthly luncheon meeting. We all told our news: A prospective marriage for one of us, a daughter married for another, the church building repaired and rededicated for another, that sort of thing.

And I, not for the first time, brought up my situation. But this time we really talked about it. And one of the clergy women there, a COM member, told me flatly that I couldn't keep wishin' and hopin' and thinkin' and prayin' for the COM chair or the EP to move on my behalf. No, I needed to ask for time on the next docket and meet with them to learn what's going on. She herself could give no guidance; she's come on the committee since the fateful decision was made.

And, she said frankly, if there's something about me that means they'd never, ever recommend me for a position, officially allowed or not, I have to find that out. If they're just waiting for me to get tired and go away to some other profession, I have to find that out, too.

Because I'm not getting any younger. And lately I haven't been actively looking for architecture work. Not only because I'm not that qualified anymore for the mechanized way things are done these days, or because of the economy, but also because I want to do Christian ministry. I don't want to be hired by some firm and tell them goodbye in two months because sorry, I'm off to be an Interim Pastor for a year. I don't treat people like that.

But if I'm wasting my time waiting for something in ministry to open up, I have to get busy determining how else to serve Jesus Christ-- and to keep myself and my four-legged children off the street.

Whether I really want to leave the ordained ministry or not.

So if there's room on the docket, Monday may be the night I find out.

Kyrie eleison!
__________________________
Note: I've heard back from the COM chairman (3:00 PM), and there's no room on the June docket. Next on my own agenda: Push, push, push to get on their agenda for July.

The Easter Weekend from Hell: A Tentative Introduction

more cat pictures

I haven't posted anything from my 1989 Great Britannic Adventure journal for awhile.

A lot of that is because I've been screamingly busy--with my garden, with activities of organizations I'm involved in, with trying actually to land a full-time job.

But a lot of it is prudence? discretion? cowardice?

All of the above?

I spent Easter weekend of 1989 on the Scottish isle of Iona. In my journal I record the sights and sounds of my geographical experience there. But those four days are also--predominently--the record of an emotional and spiritual journey into my own soul.

And it wasn't pretty. That inward trip was dark, cold, and dreary as the weather that swept down over that little North Atlantic speck of stone and peat that late March weekend.

Ought it be disclosed? True, I'm not who I was nineteen years ago, though I can sympathize with that young woman.

But will my readers understand that? What if I'm interviewing with a church, and a member of the pulpit committee happens on my blog and knows it's mine? Will he judge who I am now by who I was then? What if a pastor member of my presbytery sees it, and thinks, "What a wet noodle! I'm not clueing her in to any vacancies I've heard of!"

But then, if a church is that judgemental, do I really want to serve them? Would I be able to serve them? And any pastor colleague who might be passing me references knows who I am now and wouldn't care!

Besides [she says snarkily] I read all sorts of people who go to Iona and hang out with the Iona Community, and find it the most spiritually uplifting, life-changing experience they've been through.

Oh, really?

So . . . in the interest of full disclosure and for the sake of some cynical entertainment, maybe it's time for me to present the other side.

But first, in a subsequent post [or three], I'll give some background on certain people and on why I went to Iona in the first place.

Right now, however, I need to go out and get my fingernails dirty again. Assuming my own weather isn't acting Scottish and bucketing rain.

Answers

This morning at the Daniels Run Church* I heard the answer to some questions I hadn't yet asked.

And those were, what were their plans as to long-term or steady pastoral ministry? Were they thinking of hiring someone for longterm stated pulpil supply? And if so, would they consider looking at me?

They've been without a regular minister since November or so. As I understand it, up to then the Daniels Run Church was supplied by IrmaLou*, a student from Steelertown Presbyterian Seminary* (SPS). This past year she graduated and took her denominational ordination exams. While she waited for the results of her ords, she continued to serve the DRPC Church. I think the idea was that, once she passed and could be ordained, they'd call her to be their pastor, at least on a half-time basis.

But the PC(USA) exam results came out this fall, and IrmaLou had flunked one of them. Church polity (i.e., constitution and government), most likely. It usually is. And someone-- maybe the Committee on Ministry of the Presbytery South of Here, wouldn't let her sit for a retake until she'd gone back to SPS and taken a class or another class on it (It is possible to get through seminary and your ords without taking Polity. Ask me, I know.) And if she did that, COM would let her keep serving the Daniels Run Church in the meantime.

But her life situation forbade her from taking more seminary classes at this time. She wouldn't be able even to think of it before next September. Since she was no longer a student but not yet eligible for ordination, the COM would not or could not allow her to continue to fill the DRPC pulpit.

So what, I wondered, were the Daniels Run people going to do all the coming winter, spring, and summer? Could I help them on any steady basis?

I got my answer this morning.

One of the elders accosted me at the door, just as I was about to enter the sanctuary: "Could I make an announcement before you begin the service?"

"Could you do it during the regular announcement time?" I suggested, wondering what was so stupendous it couldn't wait.

"No, I want to do it at the beginning. I have something I need to pass out to the congregation."

Oh. Seemed a little odd to me, but hey, I'm only the weekly supply. "All right," I said.

So after the prelude, I said, "Silas* has an announcement for you."

Silas stood up in his place and said, "I'm head of the committee that's working to get us a regular pastor, and I've got some news! We've been working with the Committee on Ministry and IrmaLou on how we can get her back as our regular pastor! And we've all decided that she'll be certified as a Commissioned Lay Pastor and we'll hire her on half-time. That means she'll be able to run Session meetings and do baptisms and funerals and communion-- but just for this congregation.

"But first," Silas continued, "Committee on Ministry wants everyone in this congregation to write down what they expect in a minister. I'm passing out a survey, and you write down what's important to you, like preaching, visiting, teaching, that kind of thing. You get them back to me, and when we get everything worked out, we should have our pastor IrmaLou back with us!"

He passed the papers around and throughout the service, people were busily filling them out. And me, I was mentally crossing the Daniels Run option off my list.

Even though it cuts me out, I admire their loyalty to their regular student supply minister. I admire it all the more since she's a woman, and many churches I know run their woman pastors ragged and suck them dry, then get angry at them because they can't give any more. This congregation seems to be different.

I just hope when IrmaLou gets her CLP and returns, she'll preach them Christ and Him crucified. If you don't do that, you're not qualified to be any category of Christian pastor at all.

Tactics

I've picked up my final grades for my AutoCAD 2008 class from the tech school website. And thanks to my final push to get some extra-credit work in, I kept the final mark up to a quite decent level, thank you very much.

So now, how shall I proceed?

Do I simply write new letters to the firms I contacted before, informing them of this Portentious News? Or do I revise and totally reissue my architecture resume with a whole new letter (and a whole new purchase of 24 lb classic laid ivory bond)?

Either way, do I simply put down that I "successfully" completed the course? Or do I blow my own horn louder than that and say I "achieved marks consistently above the class average" (assuming that's true-- was last time I looked-- but I'd better make sure)?

I figure I should definitely emphasize that I'm immediately ready to use my new AutoCAD skills to a firm's benefit. After all, my lack of expertise in that area is, I suspect, a big reason why I haven't gotten all that much response from my August mailing. And there's no use wasting stamps if the new edition won't rectify the problem.

Hmmmm. Maybe (given my shortage of good paper) I'll split the difference. New resumes and letters for the big firms within shorter commuting distance, and letters only for firms farther away and for those I suspect aren't so CAD happy.

And dropping a word in the ear of the people at my old firm won't hurt, I imagine. Even if I'm 95% sure I wouldn't want to be hired back there . . .

I'm Going to Learn Remote-Control Drafting!

So far, nothing solid has come of my resume broadcast in August. I have one firm that's very interested-- if and when certain potential clients sign on.

Otherwise, not much of anything.

I have concluded that my lack of AutoCAD expertise puts potential employers off.

So thanks to a general mailing, I became aware of a local two-year tech college that offers architectural CAD training. And thank God, they were able to put me on a Personal Track and let me take AutoCAD 2008 only for a fee I can manage. Otherwise, it would have been the whole two-year associate's degree course with transcripts and trying to get credit for previous work and practically a full time course load and fees of over $40,000.

No, not now. Not at my time of life. Overkill, for sure.

I go in on Monday to pay the fees, then I start at 8:20 AM this coming Thursday. Two hours a day, four days a week, for the next five weeks. I could have taken the 10:30 section, but no. If this one job comes through, coming to work three hours late will be bad enough.

And I do need to relearn some day/night discipline . . . getting to bed at 1:00 AM is not early.

Homing Pigeons

Back last April when I got put "on contract basis" from the architecture firm (due to, I was told, lack of work matching my skillset), my soon-to-be-former boss said, "I know! We'll say you're going on part time so you can spend more time doing church ministry work!"

I, being the Be Agreeable First, Think Later type, did not gainsay this. I figured, maybe This Is God's Way of Pushing Me Out to Pursue My Ministry Vocation.

But it's four months later and all I'm doing in that line is pulpit supply preaching, which I'd been doing all along. None of the possibilities that were talked up for me here in my presbytery have panned out, and as for my listing on the wider PC(USA) pastor-congregation computer dating website, I've gotten nary a nibble.

So I'm throwing in my lot with the architects again. At least, I've started sending out resumes, like flocks of cream-colored Classic Laid 25-lb. bond pigeons.

Of course these pigeons have to be tracked very mile of the way. I know it'll take a lot of phone calls and follow-up e-mails even to get my foot in the door.

I'm asking for informational interviews, whether firms are looking for a Project Architect of my qualifications or not. I didn't grow up around here: I don't know the architectural firms at all. At my former company, we were kept at it so steadily you didn't have time to get to know the people in your own office, let alone anybody anywhere else. If I can at least see who's doing what, I'll know whom to concentrate on, whom to pester like my cat knocking things off the dresser to get me up in the morning, because I really want to work there.

Till then, I'll see if any of my "pigeons" makes it home.