Merry Christmas and Happy Chanukah

Happy Chanukah!

...and Merry Christmas!

- from the Jacobson family

"Oh My Goodness!"

"Oh My Goodness!" - my brother, mom and I heard those words over and over again on an afternoon drive through Genesee County in the fall of 1992.  We had just picked up my great grandmother from her nursing home to take her to dinner at our house.  She could not stop exclaiming about the beauty surrounding us on the country roads that led to our house.  As a nine year old, I remember thinking, "This is what the leaves look like every year."  I am still not sure if she was just overwhelmed with the beauty of the changing leaves, or if her memory loss contributed to the wonder and awe she was experiencing.  Either way, that afternoon left an indelible mark on me.  The reds, oranges, and yellows that light up their trees like flames fluttering in the breeze stop me in my tracks every fall and remind me of that day driving through the hills in our blue minivan.

My great-grandmother, Jean McAllister Dillon, moved to the United States from Northern Ireland on her own as a young woman, and lived a full life that lasted 93 years.  That fall was the last time she experienced the stunning beauty of the leaves changing on the trees.  

This Thanksgiving I think we could all benefit from taking a moment to step back from the minutiae of our lives, and taking in everything we have been blessed with.  Take time to awe in wonder at your family, your friends, your surroundings, and even the beauty of nature.  Oh my goodness.  

Have you tried NOT having the flu?

The link below connects to a cartoon that was recently picked up by the Huffington Post about how people react to, and try to "help" those who have mental illnesses.  I have seen the cartoon several times in the last few months, and I think it is an invaluable illustration of how belittling general reactions to mental health problems are.  

What If People Treated Mental Illness Like Physical Illness?

I have experienced these reactions in regard to "invisible" illnesses, like migraines, as well.  I believe it relates back to never assuming you know what the person standing in front of you us going through.  As people of faith it is our responsibility to love, support and provide compassion to one another.  It is not our responsibility to judge.

Ability Privilege

I read this article today on the Everyday Feminism website:

Examples of Ability Privilege

It reminded me of how I felt when I was recuperating from hip replacement surgery in 2008.

When I broke my hip, the part of my identity that I took for granted the most was my status as an “able” person in society. While I had been limping for about a year without diagnosis, I had always considered myself strong and independent. While standing in my parents’ driveway, I slipped on the ice and broke my hip before even hitting the ground. In less than three seconds my whole world changed. While I didn’t know it at the time, those three seconds changed my status in society instantly. After thirty-one days as an inpatient in two different hospitals, and two surgeries (the second of which was a hip replacement), I was finally diagnosed with a Giant Cell Bone Tumor. They removed the tumor (which was the entire upper portion of my femur) and replaced the hip, but the tumor meant that unlike a normal hip replacement patient, I wouldn’t be able to bear weight on my leg for months. So I arrived home at my parents’ house grateful to be anywhere but a hospital, not ready for the fact that I was now just not a hospital patient, but something else: (temporarily) disabled.

Since I had already agreed to end my employment at First Presbyterian, Ithaca in July to start at the Warner School in the fall, and the surgeon told me that I wouldn’t be able to work until September, I no longer had a job. While I got temporary disability, and the church was generous financially, losing my identity as a “professional” mattered more to me at times than my absent salary. Our identities are so entwined with “what” we do, that I realized I had never defined my identity without a profession included in the description. For the first time in my life I had to learn how to define myself without using what I DID as the basis of it, because other than physical therapy, just getting through my day took up most of my time. For the four months I couldn’t walk.  I also couldn’t drive, use a non- handicapped restroom alone, or work. The situation was so depressing at times that I couldn’t fathom being permanently disabled. For the most part society does not support those who are disabled. It is embedded in our social and physical societal structures, from the powerful set of stairs at the front of most buildings that makes them look as imposing as they are to those who can’t walk, to the glares you get when riding a “mart-kart” through the grocery store. People didn’t look at me beyond my walker.  

Matthew 5:11-12
“Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account.  Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you."

Thoughts on Suffering

After writings yesterdays post, I found this quote by Anne Lammot ~

A Guilty Blogger's Conscience

Do you ever keep yourself from doing something that you view as frivolous, or not necessary because you think that the other things on your "to-do" list are obviously more important?  While I've experienced this before, I have found it ever present in my desire to blog.  In the last week or so I have decided that I need to change the way I think about blogging.  

Yesterday I read the article, 10 Important Reasons to Start Making Time for Silence, Rest and Solitude on the Huffington Post.  While the benefits of rest, solitude and reflection that the article lists are hardly news-worthy, it was a good reminder that practices of self-reflection like journaling, blogging, mindfulness meditation and other methods of self-care are nothing to feel guilty for.  Obviously there will always be something "more important" to do (ie. more time sensitive) than take care of ourselves, but if we wait for all those more important things to be done to take care of ourselves we run the risk of damaging our bodies and souls.

So, here I am writing a blog post on a Monday evening!  Those who know me personally would tell you that I certainly have at least one (more likely; several) "to-do" lists floating around on my desk and dining room table that are littered with theological reading assignments, and Old Testament dates and Church History events to memorize.  One month from today fall semester classes will be over, and Reading Week (in preparation for final exams) will have begun.  There is no shortage of things to be done.  I have discovered though, that taking time to reflect here, knowing that my thoughts may eventually be read by those I care about, gives me energy.

Looking at these beautiful flowers gives me energy too!

Flower Credit: Ron Colantonio

Photo Credit: Angela Doll Photography

Last week's Old Testament classes on Thursday and Friday focused on the book of Jeremiah.  While the popular focus for Jeremiah tends to be on his call story, "For I know the plans I have for you..." (who doesn't love to hear that God has a plan for us?), we talked a lot about Jeremiah's lament in chapter 20.  If you haven't read it in a while, you can reacquaint yourself here.  

Among the prophets, Jeremiah is alone in his lament to God.  His lament is very similar in style to David's laments in the Psalms.  One distinct difference however, is that Jeremiah points to God as the source of his suffering, while David is generally referring to pain inflicted by earthly enemies.  The Psalms of lament were an enormous comfort to me after my bone tumor and hip replacement ordeal in 2008.  Previous to that experience I gravitated toward the "love and light" Bible passages that brought conventional messages of hope.  Only through my own physical pain and anger with God did I realize that David and Jeremiah provide a different kind of hope through their suffering.  Knowing that God is strong enough to handle our rebukes and anger is assurance that we can and are expected to share our pain with God.  

We are uncomfortable with suffering.  Suffering is raw, and often inconsolable.  Despite many internet memes and quotes to the contrary, quipping that "God will never bring you to what God can't bring you through" doesn't help (and I will admit to being guilty of saying this myself before experiencing true pain and suffering).  The most meaningful ministry you can offer in times of suffering and severe pain is presence without expectations.  To not be alone is a gift.  To be surrounded by love without the pressure of "improving" because of whatever yours guests might have to say to fix you is a gift.  Some of my best friends let me ramble, sob, laugh, and just sit with them during my illness.  While God and I made up in good time, my friends and family (and strangers) were beacons of Christ's love in a time of suffering.  

Sending all of you love, light, and permission to be mad at God (should you need it).

Wow, Thanks, Help: Anne Lamott's Three Essential Prayers Re-Ordered

In November I am going to see writer (and Presbyterian) Anne Lamott speak in Philadelphia.  Her last book was entitled "HELP, THANKS, WOW: The Three Essential Prayers."  I began rereading it this week after I bought my ticket to hear her speak.  The first time time I read it was the evening of Thursday, December 13, 2012.  No, I do not have a super autobiographical memory.  When I opened the book to read it again this week my Barnes & Nobles receipt fell out of the last page.  That tiny piece of paper did remind me, however, that the first time I read "HELP, THANKS, WOW..." it only took me four hours.  Granted, it is only a 102 page book, but despite graduating with a B.A. in English, I cannot usually read for that long without taking a break to do something, anything else.  Something about the way that Anne Lamott writes is so raw, funny, engaging, and faithful that I couldn't tear myself away from the book.  The prelude of the book, "Prayer 101" begins:

I do not know much about God and prayer, but I have come to believe, over the past twenty-five years, that there's something to be said about keeping prayer simple.  

Help. Thanks. Wow.

I reordered the title for this blog post, because the original title didn't quite express my recent experience of prayer.  The whirlwind that was getting married, packing, moving, and starting seminary all in three and a half weeks left me in awe at the love, generosity, and goodwill of our family and friends (both old and new).  After the dust settled I was left with an overwhelming sense of gratitude for all the blessings we were being continually given.  The kind of help that I am now in need of is for continued support and prayers while navigating studying, time management, spiritual growth, and nurturing our new marriage.

Wow.

L'Shana Tova! (Happy New Year!) 5775

Over the last few weeks Steve and I found a synagogue to attend together.  There was a little more urgency in this matter than finding a church, because the High Holy Days were coming up on us quickly.  

Rosh Hashanah (ראש השנה) arrives this evening.  We will be attending services this evening, and tomorrow morning at a local reform temple that has been incredibly welcoming of both us (even this Presbyterian seminarian).  The assistant rabbi even offered to help me study Hebrew if needed!

Our interfaith relationship has provided more surprising joys than headaches thus far.  Last year I enjoyed meditating on the intersection of waiting for the Light to come during Advent, and celebrating the Light that would not be extinguished during Chanukah.  Pastor Roula's sermon about Joseph (from Genesis) on Sunday was particularly moving for both Steve and I.  

Similarly, this time of the year has always felt innately "newer" to me than January 1st.  Maybe it is because I have spent so much of my life learning and teaching on the "program year" calendar, or maybe because the harvest always provides such joy.  The bleakness of winter is a rather depressing time to make a new start.  Venturing to the gym for that age old New Year's Resolution on January 2nd in the snow and sub-zero temperatures is not exactly motivating.  

Part of Rosh Hashanah is making amends with those you have wronged throughout the year, asking God for forgiveness, and anticipating the sweetness of the coming year; any holiday that involves eating apples dipped in honey is something I can definitely get behind!

L'Shana Tova!

Polar Opposites

As I was scrolling through my Facebook News Feed today, I saw that my good friend (and fellow Presbyterian) Amy Finiki also wrote a blog post this weekend:

Spring Has Sprung in September

Amy grew up in New York State, and now lives in Christchurch, New Zealand.  In her article she compares the newness of a program year beginning in September in North America to the excitement of spring in September in New Zealand.  

When I was reading Amy's piece I was reminded of one of my favorite quotes from "You've Got Mail" by Nora Ephron.  When Joe Fox and Kathleen Kelly begin anonymously emailing one another (via now archaic AOL email address platforms and dial-up connections), their first conversation is about fall in New York City.  Joe remarks that if he knew Kathleen's name and address that he would send her a "...bouquet of freshly sharpened pencils."

As a former teacher, there is nothing better than a freshly sharpened pencil.  I wish I could send each of you a bouquet of freshly sharpened pencils to fill in the pages of your new program year.  I will have to settle for wishing you a fresh start and the energy that the cool nights and sunny days of September bring with them.

Now go buy yourself a fresh package of Ticonderoga #2 Pencils (you know you want to).

Black Eyed Susans and Zinnias

This weekend Steven and I went home for a wedding.  We stayed with Mom and Dad for two nights and we got to enjoy all the pleasures of home in the (almost) fall.  My parents work their full time jobs like everyone else, but over the fifteen years they have lived in their current home they have become rather impressive flower, fruit, and vegetable gardeners.  Late September brings apples, grapes, blueberries, pears, squash, peppers, tomatoes, pumpkins, gourds, and an assortment of wildflowers Mom plants every year.  

credit: Angela Doll Photography

While I've always known that a visit home can be grounding and energizing, this weekend was a wonderful reminder of that.  We returned to our new home with a homemade frozen apple pie, acorn squash, peppers, and homemade blueberry muffins.  Mom and Dad also gave us two small plaques as a housewarming gift.  The first plaque is a Jewish blessing, and the second is an Irish blessing.  We will be hanging these together in our new apartment as one more sign of the blending of our two faith traditions, and the love and support we bring with us to this place.

Playing Off Leash

Saturday morning Steve and I walked our dogs, Teddi and McTavish, around our apartment complex and into the large field in front of it.  Five year old Teddi (a model canine citizen who always comes back to us when called) was eager to run around off leash, and Steve let him go right away.  Seeing this, McTavish was equally eager for some freedom.  For those of you who might not know McTavish's backstory, he turns two years old today and came to us via adoption at six months old with some "issues" to overcome.  He has made great strides in the last year and a half, but we have never let him off leash anywhere except our fenced in backyard.  He got out of the front door of the house once early on, and I caught him quickly, but I think he was more scared than trying to escape.

Steve talked me into letting him go in spite of my anxiety level.  Luckily McTavish is so devoted to his big brother that all he wanted to do was follow him everywhere.  The two of them ran around and came back every time we called them.  They played themselves silly, and finally laid down in the grass from exhaustion.  So much joy and excitement; all made possible because Steve convinced me to relinquish a little control.

I generally put a lot of value in control and order.  I know this must come as a shock to those that know me well ;).  There is more to seminary than studying Hebrew and Old Testament; by that I mean stretching myself spiritually and emotionally.  My other college degrees have focused on learning on how to write, think, and process information.  While I have very little experience, so far I am getting the impression that a great deal more introspective and personal work will be required for this "degree".  While letting McTavish roam around the green space in front of our apartment seems to have very little to do with the work of seminary, the more I thought about it today, it must just be the biggest accomplishment I've made so far.  Every new experience, and every time I let go of control, reinforces new ways of thinking and being in the world.

"It's my birthday!"

  

McTavish keeps watch while Teddi takes a break.

Pentecost Moments and Kindergarten Hebrew

This morning the academic year began with a service of word and sacrament at Miller Chapel.  The ever present Holy Spirit became flesh in worship with the singing of "Spirit of the Living God".  Two soloists began the song; the first soloist in Spanish and the second in Korean.  Following their solos the congregation sang the refrain several time in unison in our native languages.  Just a few of the languages heard were Spanish, Korean, English, Taiwanese, Mandarin and French.

Spirit of the living God, fall afresh on me.  Melt me, mold me, fill me, use me.  Spirit of the living God, fall afresh on me.

In other news, I attended my first Biblical Hebrew class this afternoon.  I came out alive and well, which was a relief.  I was certainly nervous, given that it has been ten years since I have studied a language, and the fact that I have heard learning Hebrew is difficult.

My homework this weekend is to begin learning the Hebrew alphabet.  When I went to the computer lab after class to download some assignments for the weekend, I happened to check my email and received the following advice from a former seminarian, and wise friend:

Embrace your ignorance, approach it like a kindergartener for whom everything is new and exciting, and don't be afraid to ask questions no matter how dumb they seem.

Finally, something I understand!  If there is one thing that I do already understand, it is the mind of a Kindergartener.  Just one more instance of grace; the timing of that message could not have been better.  While I study the (beautiful) characters of the Hebrew alphabet this weekend, I plan on embracing my ignorance, and enjoying the newness of this season of my life.

My 21st First Day of School

This morning I begin my 21st first day of school as a student.  If my years teaching second grade and Kindergarten were included it would be my 26th first day, but who is counting?

When I graduated with my first masters degree I joked with my friends that I was done being a student "forever".  I guess God had the last laugh on that one.  If I have learned anything, it is that I will no longer make grand and final pronouncements about my future.  I realize now that I am not the one in charge of the direction of my future plans.

During the convocation service last night, President Barnes noted that we are standing on 203 years of history at Princeton Theological Seminary.  The ones who have come before us here have literally paved, and paid the way for us to be here studying today.  While he noted that we are standing on the shoulders of those who have come before us, I reflected that I am here supported and loved by so many brothers and sisters in Christ who have touched my life and my spiritual journey.  I have such gratitude for those who have answered questions, led by example, loved and supported me, and opened doors to opportunities beyond my wildest dreams.  There is nothing that I could have done to deserve such love, so I have come to the conclusion that I am the recipient of God's grace.  The people in my life have been the hands and feet of Christ in my life, and I will be forever grateful.

When Steve and I arrived at our apartment complex last week, we had not been here 10 minutes when our neighbor across the parking lot approached Steve and let him know he had rescheduled an appointment to help us unload our truck.  Our neighbor across the hall, who had brought in a package that had arrived for Steve before we did, also came and helped unload the truck until we were completely done.  Not to mention my long time friend, and college roommate Krista Beth who came from her home 40 minutes away and stayed ALL DAY to help us unpack.  We would realize later in the day that it was the 13th anniversary of the day we met - unpacking and getting settled as freshmen at Ithaca College.  Grace; grace we could not have possibly imagined or deserved.

Steve joked after our first couple of days on campus that it was like being in Canada, only friendlier!  I joked back that they aren't Canadian, just seminarians.  This is the community that we are blessed to be a part of for the next three years.  President Barnes also noted during one of our orientation sessions that there is a reason they don't have an online M.Div program.  It is impossible to experience "in your pajamas in your living room" what we experience living here among others for three years.  Our neighbors and classmates are on this journey with us, and although we come from across the world, and we have different theological viewpoints and backgrounds we are learning to be the community of Christ together, while respecting and celebrating our differences.  

I am humbled and grateful to be here.  I intend to make the most of every moment I have as a student surrounded by this supportive and loving community of Christ.