Immanuel: God with us

God is Greater! The electronic sign that now festoons my high school proclaims. This is the photo that accompanies the news article about how Immanuel Schools is making the decision to open for business as usual this August, welcoming unmasked kids on to campus. This is in defiance to the mandate in California to close schools for now, until we can get a handle on this coronavirus and stop the spread. In part, this is how we stop the spread—by keeping people apart, keeping out of shared enclosed rooms with people who are not in our own households. But Immanuel proclaims: God is Greater.

The next day after they opened, I watched with bemusement and chagrin while Governor Newsom addressed the administrators of my high school, now a K-12, on national news. Wow, my little Central Valley Christian high school in national news. What a way of gaining notoriety. How embarrassing. 

Newsom seemed to be a little at a loss for words. Shocked that a school would be this cavalier, as to not only put kids and administrators at risk, but also flagrantly break the rules that he’d set with the guidance of top health experts. It is shocking! But, you know, God is greater.

As the months have dragged on, I have also gotten tired. Tired of being cooped up, of not seeing friends and family as we’d like. I’ve watched with envy as the rest of the world handles this disease so much better than we have—not perfectly, as humans are humans after all. But as my Bible teacher—from Immanuel—wrote to me from New Zealand where he now lives, New Zealand trusted its public health officials and followed the guidelines. And then they had no cases and were able to fully open up, with no precautions at all. They are, of course, different from most places in the world, as they are on an island and can fully keep out all outsiders and control who comes in. Fully two months ago another friend who moved to New Zealand was telling us about the country reopening. They quarantine anyone who is coming home—truly quarantine, as they are required to stay in a facility that is supervised—and they do not have to take any precautions at all anymore. It is not a part of their life except for what they hear from outside their borders. 

I am tired because people like those making decisions at Immanuel are prolonging this whole thing. Those of us who are being responsible are bearing the brunt of their irresponsibility. 

God is greater. In the Central Valley, we never got any snow, so we didn’t have snow days. But the fog was a huge problem. Sometimes I couldn’t see across the street. I once was on a date and the driver had his door open to watch the yellow lines, since he couldn’t see the road in front of his car. The schools were delayed when this happened—we had Foggy Day Schedule. Sometimes it was canceled altogether. 

Was God not greater then? 

Seems like every year there was a 100 car pileup on the freeway, because of the fog. It was not messing around—it was dangerous. 

Was God greater? 

But why is this about whether God is greater? That is really not what is at issue here. God gave us brains to be able to reason. They are there to help us make good decisions. We don’t decide to quarantine because of fear, or because we don’t trust God. We do it because it is wise, even though oh so hard. Fog is dangerous. Covid is dangerous. 

And God gave us the capacity for compassion. For love. For caring about the human family. While it is hurting themselves, it is also hurting all of those around when they decide to flaunt the rules. The rules are there to help us be loving and compassionate to our communities. By flaunting the rules, they are saying that they don’t care about their communities. God is greater. 

To a large extent, this is an unsurprising development. The church of my childhood is one of blind trust. Supposedly in God. But who interprets what God is saying, well, that’s not something we talk about. 

I have had this in my head to write since I saw that article. But today I saw that Immanuel Schools is raising money to cover legal fees. Yeah, no way am I donating, Immanuel. God is greater. 

Simpler Shepherd's Pie

I used to make shepherd's pie back when I was vegetarian, and I made a really good vegetarian version.  I used lentils which I thought was brilliant!  I still think it's brilliant so I still include them, but I no longer make the vegetarian version.  And I used to make it using about 5 different pots and pans, not to mention my mixer bowl.  I don't have time for all those pots and pans anymore!  I now make it much simpler, and I think it's probably just as good.  You can substitute any vegetable that you want.

And oh, yeah, this is probably more like the Hamburger Pie that I grew up with than shepherd's pie.  It doesn't have the traditional gravy, and instead uses tomatoes.  Which in my mother's version, was more of a cream of tomato soup (but not the nasty canned kind).  I just used tomatoes tonight, so that I would not have to dirty more pans.

1 pound ground beef
1 onion, chopped
1 clove of garlic, chopped
1/2 cup lentils (I like the French green ones)
1 28 ounce can of tomatoes, diced
4 carrots, sliced or diced
about 8 cups of trimmed, cut-up green beans
3-4 large potatoes
sour cream to taste
butter to taste
salt and pepper to taste
milk or buttermilk or half and half
about 1/2 cup of grated sharp cheddar cheese

Cook the ground beef in a large oven-proof skillet over medium-high heat, and while it's cooking add the onion, garlic and the lentils.  When the beef is browned, add the tomatoes.  Cook for 5-10 minutes, stirring occasionally.  Add the vegetables and cook for 5 minutes.  Lower the heat to medium-low and cover.  Cook for 10 minutes or until the lentils, carrots, and green beans are cooked through.  Salt and pepper this mixture.

Meanwhile, cook the potatoes in a pan with water.  When they are tender, mash.  You can mash them right in the pan if you have a masher, but I like to use my kitchen aid mixer.  Add sour cream, butter, salt and pepper, and whip, adding milk as needed.  It will really depend on the potatoes as to how much milk they will absorb.

Spread the mashed potatoes over the meat mixture, right in the pan if it is oven-proof.  Sprinkle cheese over the top and bake at 400 degrees until bubbly and the cheese is melted, about 30 minutes.  Serve immediately.

update!

Oh my goodness, of course I should update you all (all two of you) while I am here.  Because you never know how long it'll be before I come back here!

I have completely finished with classes, as of last spring, and am now in an apprenticeship!  I'm at a birth center, which is an hour+ away from my home.  No, I am not planning on relocating....Zach is too happy where he's at for me to do that!  More on that later.  The birth center apprenticeship is wonderful and challenging--just as it should be!  I have been to one birth so far--but that's about to change drastically.  Come the middle of December I will be neck-deep in births.  Christmas?  What's that?

Zach is loving school at Benson Polytechnic High School.  He is thinking about changing his "major" (yes, they offer majors in high school!) to communications, instead of electrics which is what he entered this school for.  He is really getting into computer programming, which is cool.  His sophomore year is decidedly more challenging than his freshman year, which I think is good!  He had an awesome freshman year to bolster him up and I hope he can rise to the challenges of this year.

Aaron is away at college!  (Okay, right at this moment he is home from college for Thanksgiving break.)  He is loving it.  I am adjusting.  It's kind of a weird adjustment.  I don't miss him like I thought I would--he was just so ready to go on to the next phase of life that I can't wish anything else for him.  But the dynamics at home changed.  And visiting my college kid at college?  Weird.  Just weird.  Oh well.  Something to get used to in the whole cycle of life.

Two days at church

Two different churches, but I spent time at church both Saturday and Sunday this weekend (which had become a rarity for me).

I was reminded yesterday while at the retreat given by Fr. Michael Oleksa of one reason why I love the Orthodox church: the belief in the salvation of the whole world, not just human beings (like the tradition I came out of as a child believes).  The whole creation.  God so loved *the world.*  Not just humans, but animals, plants, rocks, trees, everything.  And we are all saved together, not individually.  This is why I love my church.  We also discussed with him the ideas that fasting, which is what the church is doing right now during the Nativity fast, would be best adapted to the individual culture it finds itself in.  In Alaska, where Fr. Michael lives, the food that is cheap or even free is meat.  Fruits and vegetables are only come by at a premium.  To say that Orthodox Christians should only eat the most expensive foods during a fast is a little crazy, bordering on total financial ruin for some families, and certainly is not making use of local foods.

Fr. Michael also talked extensively on adapting to the culture which we are evangelizing, rather than expecting that culture to adapt to us (as has been done by missionaries in the past and present).  He told us many stories of the Alaskan native American people, and rather than seeing them as pagan and heathen and we must teach them the right way, he sees them as illustrating, beautifully, the love of God and the way we should be in the world.  I love that.

Alas; because I don't love everything about how my local parish plays out, and I am not accepted by my own church currently, I attend the Episcopal church sometimes.  And today I was reminded that I love imperfection.  Okay, I don't always experience it as love.  I was irritated that the usually perfect service at the cathedral was marred.  The first reader stumbled a lot.  The second reader obviously had laryngitis or something affecting his speaking voice which was very distracting.  Even the new priest was distracting--her singing voice is not up to the par I am used to in a good priest.  But even as I was bitching in my own mind about these things, I reminded myself that, hey, isn't this what I believe in?  I believe that all of God's people have a place in the participation of God's liturgy.  We don't have to be perfect.  This is what I believe, that our best attempts at worshiping God are good in God's sight.  Even if I sometimes have to remind myself.

Aaron's blog post

Ha! Now that I've started blogging again maybe I won't ever shut up! ;-) Thank you, you three who are still reading, for your wonderful supportive comments. :-)

I just found this blog post of Aaron's again. He started a blog a long time ago and only posted three times....but I love this description of how to express oneself as a transgendered person. Enjoy!

A's Asylum

How The Kids Are Doing

I was so surprised to find I do still have readers! You must have me on Google Reader or something similar. So, hi Mimi and Monica! And anyone else who is still reading! Maybe I'll even have time to start blogging regularly again when I finish school.

Monica wondered how the kids are doing and it seems high time for an update on what they're up to. I'm going to start with Zachary because he's the easier one to give an update on.

Zachary began school after homeschooling for the first 12 years of his life in sixth grade. He really loved it and had a teacher that really was awesome and nurtured him and understood he needed a little extra. I will always be grateful to Ned for being an awesome first teacher for a homeschooler-turned-sixth grader. But when he got into middle school, he seemed to flounder a bit. He didn't do so well in school, and really panicked over his homework. There was one teacher who took him under her wing, Pat, and I will also always hold a special place in my heart for Pat. She was his science teacher and really encouraged the scientist in Zachary, and that piece of him really flourished. We began to decide that the school he was at really wasn't the place for him to be in high school, though (it was a K-12, rare in urban areas) and started to look at Benson. Benson is the polytechnic magnet school in Portland, and Zac fell in love when a rep came to his school. Oh, the things he could do at Benson! He could do all the stuff he'd been fiddling with at home there, plus way more! He could learn manufacturing and auto shop and electronics and so much more. So, he applied, and with fear and trepidation we waited, along with the other 399 kids who had applied, to see if he'd get one of the 240 spots. And he did! These days I am in constant awe that my kid who seemed to be floundering in middle school gets remarks from his teachers they wish they had a hundred Zachs, that he always does great, etc. etc. etc.! It's so great to watch him do what he really loves. He is doing well even in the non-science-y classes, like English and Health. I really had thought it would take him a bit to adjust to life in high school, especially going from a tiny school to a relatively huge one, but Zach has just stepped into it like he was meant for it.

So, the older child. Whom I probably last referred to on this blog as Carissa. Back in late summer 2009, Carissa came to me and told me that she identifies as a male person. I was quite taken aback--I had no idea that this was going on with her. She/he was quite certain of it from that time on, and I asked her to keep thinking about it and make sure. As I worked through it all, I slowly began to adjust my thoughts around who this person was. And I realized that whether she or he, whether Carissa or Aaron (as he began to call himself), this person is still my kid, this person is still someone I love, this person is still the same person.

I encouraged Aaron to express himself however he wished. I truly do not believe that there is any problem with playing around with who you are. Many people try on different identities, different types of people--hippie, straight-laced, this look or that, whatever. A different gender? Why does it matter to us so very much how one expresses their gender? I began to face this issue, and have mostly found acceptance, but it is so ingrained in us that gender is set, you can't change it, etc. To which I say, you can't very easily change your body, this is true. Though it can be done. But why can't gender and biology be expressed differently? Why do we feel such rigid roles in gender?

I have to admit to you all that I was not very open to transgender issues before this. I didn't understand it. I didn't know why anyone would want to be someone other than who they were born as. I didn't know why men would want to be what I thought looked like fake women (male to female is much more visible--biological men don't "pass" as women as easily as the other way around). But I remained open to learning, and I think I am beginning to understand.

Aaron has also had quite a transition in school. I thought the small K-12 that they both started at after homeschooling was so great for them, such a good fit. Maybe it was at the beginning. But Aaron also began to flounder there, and we began to look at other options. What we ended up with is the High School Completion program at Portland Community College. It is an awesome program and he is LOVING it and doing so well! He is looking at colleges to attend next year--well, really just one. He's already got his heart set on Evergreen State College in Olympia, WA, just two hours north of us.

We have gone through some pretty dark times in the last few years. I feel like we've to a large extent come out on the other side, back into the light. I'm not finished yet--when will that ever happen?--but I've stopped thinking I'd surely done something wrong as a parent. Well, more often than not I don't think that anymore. What more can a mother ask for?

Leaving My Comfort Zone

I've been thinking a lot about isolation and question-asking and asking for knowledge from others lately. I've had lots of thoughts about how I have always been a pretty self-made person, and didn't ask for help from anyone. I thought I could figure things out myself, and that this was really preferable to asking others. But as I'm finishing up my time at midwifery school, and approaching an apprenticeship, I am realizing that asking for a little help, which sometimes just comes as asking for information, is such a good thing. I may be a little slow at learning this lesson, but I am learning it! Asking and putting myself out there just opens things up a little, and helps me figure out my next step, and then if I keep going with that train of knowledge then I can end up in the place that I wanted to be, or even somewhere that I didn't expect but is an awesome place to be.

It doesn't always happen that way, of course. I recently made a query into something that meant something to me, only to be slapped back down and punished for it, and it also had repercussions on those I love. It was painful and difficult to deal with. Yet, I can't say I am sorry for having asked it. (I sure was at the time, though!) I am glad to have pushed against that wall and found it to be unbudging, so that I can move on from there and figure out my next step. I would not have known it was unbudging if I hadn't tried it.

Sometimes asking questions just leads to dead ends. No gain, no loss, It still shows me as an inquisitive person, though, and I get practice at asking questions, and learn the right questions to ask for the situation.

So, there's some thoughts for ya on a Wednesday morning, from someone who hasn't blogged in a hundred years, and probably has no readers left. :-) Oh well, it is still good for me to write these things out for myself!

Studying

I am studying. Very diligently. I am glad to be discovering that I am figuring out my style. I used to despair when I just didn't know where to begin. I find that part of the process of beginning to study is trying to find where to take a bite out of a mile-high sandwich. Then I find a little loose end, finally, and begin to nibble. It's painstaking at first, but I find it doesn't really take more time in the end than if I had a systematic way from the beginning for studying. It's just the way I do this going-back-to-school-at-forty thing. Oh, and lots of facebook breaks. Lots. You wouldn't believe how many.

That's all; I just needed a short little break in how I use my brain, and now it's back to ovarian cancer, breast cancer, menopause, and cyclical hormones.

comments

Oops, sorry folks, I turned on comment moderation because I was getting so much spam. I thought it would email me to let me know if moderation was needed! I went in today to look and there were a bunch of comments! I did not mean to censor any of you! I haven't been posting very often here, but perhaps when my winter break is here I can post. So, please, comment as often as you'd like, and when I see the comments I'll publish!

Two Years and Not Quite Ten Thousand Miles

My scooter,Dora, and I have been together for two years this month. It has been quite a ride! I had never ridden any motorized two-wheeled vehicle before I bought her. I couldn't even test drive her, because they only let you do that if you have a motorcycle endorsement and I didn't have mine yet. I remember after I signed all the paperwork, and Dora was wheeled out for me, and me asking, so, can you tell me how to ride it? The owner of the shop asked, well, you've ridden a motorcycle before, haven't you? No, I answered. Never? He asked incredulously. Who was this crazy woman buying a motor scooter at age 39 without ever having ridden anything like it? I somehow got it home, with a friend following me closely behind in her car to make sure I was okay and that no one else got behind me who would be impatient with me.

Dora has been symbolic of many new changes in my life.

That day that I brought her home with me was the first day of my Anatomy and Physiology class at Birthingway. A&P was a pre-requisite for applicants to the midwifery program. I did not ride Dora to class that night, however, as it was way too far and I was way too new and was way too not-licensed for me to do that.

I bought Dora somewhat on a whim. Kind of. I mean, like I said I'd had no experience. And I just kind of liked how scooters looked and rode. I was in great admiration of the small carbon footprint it possesses. Very good gas mileage and, if you have a newer one, very very low emissions. I didn't like driving around in my big old Volvo station wagon all by myself and feeling like I was wasting a whole lot of resources. I thought for quite awhile about how the kids would get around if I bought a scooter and sold my car. Because even if I only used my car occasionally, it was not cost effective to own both when you count in insurance. Finally, I just did it. I wasn't sure how it was going to work out, but I took the risk.

And I've loved how this risk has turned out. So far anyway! The greater risk, of course, is the fact that I am not protected and encased by steel and am out in traffic, riding just as fast as the cars around me. (I do not ride on the freeway however, except twice by accident and twice going to Vancouver--the bridge across is the freeway.) I've gone through several periods of time where every single time I was on my scooter I was thinking about many different possible ways to get really hurt or die on my scooter. Yes, they are dangerous. But wow, this is one risk I am willing to take.

My scooter has 9,203 miles on it. It's not nearly as many as I would have put on a car in that time. And yet, it is a lot of miles to be out in the open, wind buffeting my whole body, in the elements--rain, sun, wind, and on occasion a few snowflakes. I am pretty careful on it, but I do ride it year round. I don't ride when there's ice on the roads, but that didn't even stop me last December when the temperatures were under 32 degrees for a solid two weeks. It had been dry before the freeze occurred, so no precipitation was frozen from the beginning.

Last summer I took Dora out for a very long ride. I'd wanted to ride along the gorge as far as I could on the old highway. But the old highway fizzles just after Multnomah Falls and traffic is merged onto the freeway. So I turned back. I was planning to just go home, but my adventure had been cut short! I decided to go around, and up onto Mt. Hood. I travelled across Mt. Hood and down into Hood River. It was beautiful. But I had to have a shorter way home as it was late (I ate dinner in Hood River) and so I crossed the river and took WA 14 back. It was very windy! I thought I was going to be blown off the road. But what a great trip! I have been wanting to ride to the beach ever since I got Dora but haven't done that yet. Maybe it could happen before I start school.

I haven't done a trip quite like that yet this year. I only just rode out to Sauvie Island for a bit. It was fun though. I love riding especially on dry, sunny, warm days. Those kind of days were just made for scooter riding.

And now, the question lingers in my mind of perhaps straying beyond Dora? She is, after all, only a 125 cc. How much more power could I have at my disposal? I could ride on the freeway and take much less time if I had a larger scooter. It wouldn't get as good of gas mileage but I'd also be able to get up hills easier (I'm slowed to 40 mph or even slower on really steep hills). I don't know. It's a question I'll have to keep pondering but I do love my little Dora.

Here's to many more years of scooter riding!

Better than Potato Champion

OMG!!! Am I actually uttering such heresy?

First, I must address the fact that I am putting this post here, rather than on my food blog. Why? Well....(sheepish look).....because my food blog is a vegetarian food blog. And I? I am no longer vegetarian. And I will be putting up a review that will include MEAT. Oh my.

Now, on to the reason I should utter such heresy?

Well, second I must explain that this is rather a local kind of blog post. Here in Portland, we have a food cart revolution going on. It's really quite lovely, and one can get really good food for quite cheap. There are so many food carts around that one can find just about any kind of food one might want from a cart, and usually there are more than one cart that sells that type of food. These food carts are often arranged in food cart pods. A place where there are a bunch of food carts all together! How lovely is that?

So, a new food cart pod opened recently and I've been dying to try it. I already have one near me--Cartopia, home of the esteemed Potato Champion. Which sells the most awesome french fries with great dipping sauces. But Cartopia does not do a stellar job at actual meal food. I've gone there for dinner twice and what I had was kind of meh. I won't name names, but I just didn't find what I was looking for.

Good Food Here, the new food cart pod, was beckoning. And so, this evening my trusty co-food critic Zac and I checked it out. Oh my.

We decided first to have a tour of what was available. The first place I'd tried at a neighborhood picnic, Namu. Its Korean BBQ was to die for, but I'd already tried it, so I had to pull myself away as I really wanted to see what else was available and sample as much as was reasonable.

Other carts included Mexican, a smoothie place, an Italian sandwich shop, hamburgers/hot dogs/french fries, meatballs, and Thai. Zac and I decided to have a couple of tacos each while we contemplated what else to try. They were delicious. We each had a carnitas and a carne asada taco. Very fresh ingredients, and really took the edge off our ravenous hunger. They were just what we needed and I hope to have more soon, and also try their enchiladas.

We decided to split a burger and fries. Violetta has regular fries, sweet potato fries, truffle fries, and Oregonzola fries (Oregonzola is the name of a local gorgonzola cheese). We opted for the simple, both the burger and fries at the most basic level.

And then is when the mmmmming began. And then, the heresy. When we both confessed our new love for one of the most awesome burgers in Portland (I'd say its only rival is with Slow Bar's burger) and also that the fries just might be better than Potato Champion. I do have to temper all this gushing by saying they were too salty. But. The crispness level just went way over what is achieved by Potato Champion. I believe the secret to this delectability is that the fries are more thinly cut.

The burger had interesting things on it, even just as a basic burger. I think, but am not sure, that the tomato was not just a fresh tomato but was roasted. It was absolutely delicious. Juicy, sloppy, wonderful. Zac said that most burgers just aren't that flavorful, but this one was really flavorful. He was right.

Ah, food carts. How I love thee. Violetta, I'll be back.

Cartopia is located at SE 12th and Hawthorne. Good Food Here is located at SE Belmont at 43rd.

Update on me!

Wow. Now that I've broken the months' long silence here, I'll let you all know what's happening here. I am currently on summer break from school. I start back on September 17--we get a nice long 2 1/2 month break. I have finally gotten enough work to keep me afloat. During the summer, I am working 4 days per week, which is great for saving up a bit for my school bill which is not all covered by my student loans. I'm doing childcare for two different families, and starting soon I'll add a third family. In the fall, I will be doing one day with each family, and going to school full-time. Phew! I am really hoping I'm not taking on too much....I suppose I can always drop one of these days if I need to, but I also hate to let families down.

The fall term is Well Woman Gynecology for me and my second-year midwifery class. It's one of those things that we were all told about at the beginning....and I was dreading for a long time. Because the way my school teaches this subject is that we learn on each other. How are we to learn how to do pap smears and vaginal exams if we don't have actual vaginas to practice on? So, we use each others'. And I was dreading this for the longest time....and now I see the genius of my school's system. We are intensely with our own class for four terms, 1 1/3 years, and then we have gyn. So now we all know each other quite well and it's not such a thing anymore. What I'm really dreading now is hematology.....practicing IV skills and drawing blood on each other! That's always been the part of midwifery that has kept me from doing it. For years, over a decade! That won't be for another couple of terms though, so I've got some time before that particular skill is demystified.

I'm also taking Botanicals II, which I am so looking forward to. Taking Botanicals I really opened my eyes to the world of herbal medicine, and I have gotten so excited to try all kinds of things. Also on the slate for this term is Human Genetics and STIs. I am so enjoying my studies!

So, there ya go, a boring update on what I'm doing. ;-)

Come to the Table

So, here are some musings about faith and religion, very rough, very unformed, just what I am thinking about right now. And I should up front state that I have not darkened the doors of the Orthodox church in over a year. I have attended an Episcopal church a handful of times in the last year and a half.


I recently read a pretty great book, entitled Take This Bread. Sara Miles, the author, tells of her conversion from being an atheist to being a Christian, which took place in one very startling moment. She walked into St. Gregory of Nyssa Episcopal Church in San Francisco one Sunday on a whim while on a walk, and walked out changed. She walked in and was welcomed to the table, the table that Christ invites everyone to. Everyone who belongs to his family, which is every human being on this planet. And she, who was an atheist until the moment of communion, took that body and blood of Christ and thereby became a Christian. She started attending and getting involved by starting a soup kitchen, fighting those staid Christians who came to church to feel secure and shook them right out of their comfy places, even before she was baptized.

Sara makes the point that Jesus invites ALL to the table. Jesus did not say that if you have been baptized in the right church and you've prayed and fasted in a particular prescribed way, then you may come to the table. He says, come to the table, share, eat. Be part of this family.

When I read this, it felt so, so true. And suddenly all my justifications for why we have the practice of closed communion in the Orthodox church totally fell away. Jesus does not call us to be the church of exclusivity, but to welcome all. I've fought a language fight, because I believe it to be totally non-evangelical (I mean this word in the most liberal sense possible) to invite people to church so that they can struggle with a foreign language. I do love the Orthodox church, and I don't think that will ever change, but I think it is so terribly misguided. There are churches that are attempting, even if it's a feeble attempt, to change, to be more inclusive of all God's children, and I don't see this attempt in very many dark little corners of Orthodoxy. And it makes me sad. Because I do love the Orthodox church.

After I read the book, the next time I attended the Episcopal church, I watched as communion was served. And I told myself: self, it's okay if you want to take communion. You have old beliefs that you should only take communion in the Orthodox church, but you can feel free to take communion here if you want. And as I watched, I just didn't have any desire to take communion. And I struggled. Why didn't I? All are welcome to come, here at this Episcopal church. No one is turned away. And it suddenly struck me that this is not a table. The phrase that Jesus invites us all to the table brings up an image in my head of a family, sitting together, sharing a meal together. And that is what I want for the family of God. I want us to be a family, sharing, being together, communing. And the way that both the Orthodox and the Episcopal churches give communion is still kind of individualistic. I realize that there are many different ways of worshiping, and many reasons for each way, but this way suddenly struck me as not a family meal, but as each person, one at a time, receiving and going away. I couldn't do it, not at that time, which does not mean it will never work for me. But that's where I was at that moment.

I had wanted to attend a Taize church at this particular parish ever since I began attending there, but always forgot when it was, was busy, etc. But that Sunday when I went, I found out that Taize was that night. So I put a priority on going. And found a wonderful worship place. It was different from other Taize services I'd gone to--it was attended by many more people than the one I used to attend at the Catholic Worker house. Small and intimate is nice, but this was a different kind of experience. It had musicians, which took me a bit to get used to. But I got used to it and loved it. One element that was not present at any I'd been at was a healing service. Where anyone who wanted to could come forward to receive prayers, either for stated requests or silent, for healing. And then an anointing with oil. Each participant was received by a pair of people who laid hands on the person and then prayed for them and administered the oil. I knew when I heard that this would also be a healing service that I would want to participate in it. And my thoughts couldn't help but go back to the first healing service I attended at an Orthodox church.

I had begun attending at an Orthodox church starting at the beginning of Lent, and was in the learning phase of my conversion, and indeed was still not absolutely certain that I would become Orthodox (though already was pretty close to that decision). During Holy Week, the Orthodox church has a healing service on Holy Wednesday (not a very old tradition, but still a nice one....who said all of our traditions have to be ancient?). I was eager to attend, because I'd been experiencing a severe depression for quite a few months....probably about a year. I knew that the healing oil was not magic, but I still desired to be anointed because it was a spiritual acknowledgment of my unwholeness and faith in becoming whole, in a life-long journey of faith. I knew I would not walk away from the healing oil not depressed anymore, but somehow it felt like it would be a connection, with God and with my fellow human beings on this journey as well.

When I got to the church for the service, and sat down and opened the service book, I almost immediately began crying. Stated in a very obvious and overt way, printed right there in the service book, was the fact that in the Orthodox church the healing oil is reserved for only members of the Orthodox church. Only those who have been baptized in the Orthodox church or have been chrismated and received in can receive the holy oil. I was so upset I had to leave. I could not remain there while others were anointed, while I could not be because I had not yet been received into the church.

In the Taize service I did come forward and receive prayers and anointing with oil. I was invited into the family. I didn't have to jump through any hoops or prove myself. Because God loves me just how I am and I don't have to have any brand loyalty to receive God's love or to be part of that family.

Who Are We?

On Friday, I attended a discussion led by Fr. Roy Bourgeois, the founder of the School of the Americas Watch. This organization, year after year, calls for the shutting down of the school here on American soil that trains assassins and terrorists. But on Friday, he was not talking about the senseless violence of war and physical killing, but of the senseless injustice done to women in the Catholic church. He has been involved with the Womanpriest movement, which has ordained women as Catholic priests and has enough female bishops to keep the movement going, continuing apostolic succession. His mantra that began to play inside his head, and that he turned outward as his conscience would not let him be silent about this issue, was: "Who are we, as men, to say to women 'our call is valid but yours is not'?" He has been outspoken about it and has even put his own vocation on the line, ultimately finding himself with a letter threatening excommunication if he did not recant within 30 days. He chose to follow his conscience, and has not had any response to his letter to the Vatican explaining his position, two years ago.

We spoke with one of the Womanpriests after the talk, who responded to the question "how can you be in solidarity with those who are still in the church, when you are excommunicated?". She calmly said that she does not consider herself to be excommunicated because you cannot kick out family, and she is part of the Catholic family. You can get mad, you can have happy times and not so happy times, and you can have conflict. But family is family, and you can't change that.

That same day as I went to the talk, I read a blog post from an Orthodox priest. He spoke lovingly of bringing his little 18 month old son into the altar with him for a weekday liturgy during Bright Week (the week following Easter). He joyfully recounted all the things his son did and noticed and how he helped out, and was less distracting than some altar boys who are "old enough" for the job. I read of this account with wonder, because I had never heard of a priest bringing their baby into the altar, except for a baby being churched. And I had to wonder: if this baby had been a little girl rather than a boy, would he have brought her into the altar? This priest was needed in two different capacities: as priest, helping to serve the liturgy and as father to his own baby. And he was able to function in both capacities very well.

I have experienced injustice in a very small way. When I used to chant in church, all the chanters would gather in the sacristy (the little room beside the altar) and go over the order of services and the music. And then we'd all head out to the chanter's stand. Except that we took two different routes: the men through the altar (the most direct way) and the women around the long way. A friend of mine recently told me of her experience: the route that the women take was blocked because it goes through the room where the priest hears confession. So, it was either take the route through the altar, only about seven steps, or take the route clear behind the altar, through the long hall outside the church, in the side door, and across the front of the church to the chanter's stand. She spoke of the extreme frustration of not being allowed to go the obviously easier way because of the uproar it would cause, to see a woman coming out of the altar! And yet, I have to wonder, why? Why is the act of being a woman in God's altar scandalous?

I stand with Fr. Roy, and ask of the Orthodox church as well: who are we to decide who is called and who is not? And hoping that the family will be reunited.

Who I Am

I've been kicking around these ideas in my head for awhile and hoping that I can write something that is coherent enough for others to read. It has to do with my evolution as a person through all the stuff that's happened to me and the choices I've made in the last couple of years.

When things were getting intense between Paul and me, I began a journal. On the opening page of that journal I began with a description of who I am. I described myself: wife, mother, and then a list of what I like to do. I think I was already uncomfortable with that typing of myself but didn't know how to change it yet. A few journal entries later I re-described myself: just me, who I am. Because my roles do not define me. Who I am married to, what children I have, those are wonderful relationships that enhance my life, but they are not me. They are relationships.

I remembered a time when I was in a gathering of women about 7-8 years ago, and I introduced myself as as the wife of a priest. I spoke with another woman for quite some time before she told me her husband is a pastor. I expressed surprise that I did not know this, and she said something to the effect that it isn't the first thing she tells people, because it doesn't define her.

I guess what I'm saying here is that I got too caught up in defining myself through my roles--wife and mother--and forgot about developing my own self. And two years ago I decided to begin developing my own self.

I've tried to figure out how I could have done this differently, but I have to say I honestly enjoyed being stay-at-home mommy when my children were young. I cannot imagine putting them in day care when they were babies. I enjoyed homeschooling them, but I think I probably could have begun to explore my passion when they were school-aged. Slowly though. By the time I was good and ready and was really restless to find something else to occupy my time, they were also done with homeschooling. I always thought that homeschooling could work for us all the way through high school, but it just didn't. It worked great for the first bit and then it was time to move on. I am so grateful for the foundation it gave my kids; I'm glad that Carissa was able to be herself (and later when she would identify as transgender she/he was able to do that with hopefully a minimum of self-doubt). I am glad that Zachary, my "late" reader, was able to learn at his own pace and not face criticism from anyone but himself.

When I divorced, obviously I was separating myself from the role of being a priest's wife--I was no one's wife, and began re-defining myself as an independent woman. But I also found myself pulling away from my children to some extent. I am pretty sure this hurt them, but I did feel it necessary in my own evolution as a person, to find out who I, Elizabeth, was, not just who I am as a mother. I needed to tend to my needs for awhile. Is this selfish? Probably. But it was a selfish I really needed. I needed to extricate myself from what I was expected to do in order to find out what I expected of myself.

Now I find myself reconnecting with my kids. And wishing I had more time in which to do that. But life is good as it is, and the time we have is really good. And it's real--I am establishing myself as an independent woman in relationship, not as provider and facilitator for other people to find their passions, but as a co-passion-finder. And that is an excellent journey to take with people I love.

What Shall We Offer You, Oh Christ?

Many years ago, in a church in the Boston area, I was asked to teach music to the children of the parish, to sing at the Christmas pageant. It was completely my decision about what Christmas carols to sing. I was poring through the options, and mourning the fact that, even though we have some of the best theology in our Christmas carols, they aren't very "singable" to the Western ear. And so it's left to the chanter to sing, rather than being sung by families and individuals whenever the fancy to sing Christmas carols arises.

And so, I decided to make an effort to change that in one small way. I took an Orthodox hymn and set it to the music for Oh Come, All Ye Faithful. I had the kids sing the known version, first verse, first, and then sing the two verses of the adapted nativity hymn. Here are the lyrics if you would like to sing it too!

What shall we offer you, oh Christ?
Who for our sake appeared as man?
Every creature brings to you a gift:
The angels, a hymn
The heavens a star,
The Magi, gifts
The shepherds, their wonder.

What shall we offer you, oh Christ?
Who for our sake appeared as man?
Every creature brings to you a gift:
The earth a cave
The wilderness a manger
And we bring a Virgin Mother.

Aaaahhhh....Big Sigh

I just finished my 28 page final exam for my intrapartum class! Drained, relieved, and happy but very mellow, I drove home. Saw a car with a bumper sticker. It said:

Support Midwives

and underneath? it said

Make Love

I laughed and laughed! Felt like convergence.

And now, I am done with this post.

Fall Term

School is beginning for me again! And on the same day as my kids go back to school as well. It'll be their first full school year. And it's the first term for me where I know the ropes, how to do protocols already, how the system works. I feel like I'll start already knowing how to do this thing this time and we don't have to take the time for all that introductory stuff. We can just get down into the nitty gritty of learnin' how to birth babies. I've already started in on my readings, and found some pretty hairy stuff.....we don't just focus on the plain-jane births, the births that are how births are supposed to be, but the areas that can present problems and how to head them off before they're problems, and deal with them when they are. And all the different variations on "normal" because, as all of you who have birthed a baby know, births don't go as you plan them. You can plan and plan and do all the things necessary to prevent certain things, and all the things necessary to keep things on track....but birth happens how it will happen, and no amount of planning will keep it from happening how it wants to. It's the knowledge of those things and the skills necessary PLUS the ability to watch and wait and let things play themselves out that make a midwife a midwife.

I've had a couple of births this summer, too, and a few more lined up. I've been working toward certification as a doula and I'm two births away! I've got those births lined up....so my certification is in sight! It's been kind of slow-going, getting the clients I need to certify, but now it seems momentum is rising (or could it be that freak snowstorm we had in December....?) and I hope to be able to build up a business of paying customers and do doula work to support myself. Because of all the work I can do right now to support myself, doula is the closest to my ultimate goal. I love the work of birth and being able to support each birthing mother in the work she needs to do.

Where everybody knows your name

Hey, all, here's Elizabeth! Yes, I know I have sadly neglected this blog. I just could not have anticipated how busy and single-focused I'd be when I decided to go back to school at age 40, after 19 years of not doing anything remotely like school! It was a LOT of hard work, but very rewarding. I got my grades today--well, what passes for grades at Birthingway--a "Complete" for each class I took! I am just telling myself it's really acing all my classes. That may not be true but please humor me and let me have my delusions!

So, now that school is over for the term and I have two months off for summer break, I've been thinking about how to create a community for myself. I was married for almost 20 years and, as a married person with children, I've had a built-in social life. I have been at home with my family as a default setting, and perhaps would sometimes go out with friends, but if I didn't have other friends to fall back on I knew I could always hang out with my family. And now I don't have that as a default anymore. Yes, I still spend a lot of time with my kids....but I sometimes crave meeting with adult friends, people who I can be close with who are my peers. And I find that I don't know where to go to create those kinds of relationships. I'm sure it's a common newly-divorced dilemma.

I just went to a movie screening at a local (anarchist) cafe that shows some interesting movies--that was fun, and created discussion, but I wouldn't say I "met" anyone there that I could have a meaningful, ongoing relationship with. Where do people go to find friends? And how does one continue friendships with old friends after the divorce.....seems for some people it's awkward to continue being friends with one or the other, or even worse, both! For whatever reason.

I suppose a huge part of this is that I'm shy about forging new friendships. I always feel like people will think that I'm being too forward, or people won't want to spend a lot of time with me. Perhaps it's a very bad friendship experience I had a couple of years ago. I'd rather curl up in my cocoon and withdraw from the world than to call someone up and see if they want to get together. And then I'm lonely. And then, there's the other problem of people being so busy....and these lonely streaks seem to just come on strong all of a sudden. And then, of course, I crave company *right now*, and people are busy and can't get together.

Please, don't read this wrong--I really am not fishing for anything--I just know my own hang-ups and I would like some ideas from people who've been here before. Also, I just want to say upfront that I do not have any regrets about the decisions that Paul and I made. They were necessary and the right thing to do, and I am not pining for "the old days."

Any suggestions?

Dooce again!

I don't usually post links to the mega-bloggers; I figure they get enough attention already. But this one post from Heather may have single-handedly turned around the economy of doulas and homebirth midwives! Go read here about Heather's story of labor, part one--really, just the lead-up to labor. I can't wait to read the rest--I'll post the link when it comes up.

Dooce on Natural Birth