The New Zealand Lord's Prayer

I've gotten a couple of hits searching for the New Zealand Lord's Prayer. I alluded to it once, but never printed the text. As a courtesy to those who come here looking for it, here it is:

The Lord's Prayer

Eternal Spirit,
Earth-maker, Pain bearer, Life-giver,
Source of all that is and that shall be,
Father and Mother of us all,
Loving God, in whom is heaven:

The hallowing of your name echo through the universe!
The way of your justice be followed by the peoples of the world!
Your heavenly will be done by all created beings!
Your commonwealth of peace and freedom
sustain our hope and come on earth!

With the bread we need for today,
feed us.
In the hurts we absorb from one another,
forgive us.
In times of temptation and test,
strengthen us.
From trial too great to endure,
spare us.
From the grip of all that is evil,
free us.
For you reign in the glory of the power that is love,
now and forever. Amen.

From A New Zealand Prayer Book (Harper Collins, 1997), 181.

RevGal Friday Five: Ice Cream

It's summer; let's take a break from church politics and have some fun.

1. Ice cream: for warm weather only or a year-round food?

Year-round. When the weather's too hot, ice cream melts too fast anyway.

2. Favorite flavor(s):

Two that I can't get anymore. Ben & Jerry's White Russian (yum!) and Cascadian Farms' blackberry sorbet/vanilla ice cream swirl. My friends and I used to get a carton of that, each grab a spoon, and pass the carton around. (Cascadian Farms is an organic-veggie outfit in northwestern WA. They've gotten out of the ice cream racket, in favor of frozen veggies.)

Oddly enough, I don't care much for ColdStone. They're pricier than they're worth. There's a gelato place by the Berkeley BART that I love.

3. Cake cone, sugar cone, waffle cone, cup?

Waffle cone.

4. Childhood ice-cream memory

Going to Baskin-Robbins after some horrible blood tests when I was a kid.

Also, it's not really ice cream, but I remember standing in the driveway one summer when I was about 7, dripping red popsicle juice on the cat. (She never noticed; she was too busy rubbing against my legs.)

Other memories, not necessarily from childhood:

We went to B&R at night really often, and I loved that. When my friends were there, we'd look at the clown faces; we didn't really want them, but they were fun to see.

Once as a teen, walking out of B&R, I knocked my ice cream off the cone. I caught it with my off hand, before it landed anywhere.

I went to another B&R with a friend and her kids, years ago (the oldest is driving now). I think the boys were 2 and 4-ish; I'm not entirely sure that their sister was ex utero yet. There was a group of teenagers in there, sitting on the floor, hanging out. These little ones sat on the floor with their backs to the counter, copying them.

There's a neat little walk-up window on the boardwalk in Olympia. I don't know how many times I walked that, looking at the boats or just hanging out downtown, with friends or by myself, trying to race the wind so I could finish my ice cream before it got all over me.

5. Banana splits: discuss.

Yuck.

Wanna play?

A measure of redemption

Other people have responded more eloquently than I to Resolution B033. Susan Russell's blog links to the dissenting bishops' statement, the rector of All Saints, Pasadena's reflection, and Father Jake.

My classmate Debbie Graham implores us to stay.

Stay, and work, we will. Pray for the church, and for all people.

Pride and disgust

...in the same week.

Last Sunday, my church elected +Katharine Jefferts Schori as our first female Presiding Bishop. I knew nothing about her; I'd been told by a friend that she didn't have a chance, and another nominee was a friend of another friend. He's managed to make progress among both the liberals and the conservatives, and I thought it would be him. It wasn't. She got it. The more I've read and learned about her, the happier and prouder I am.

Today, Reuters carried this headline: "Episcopal Church votes to avoid gay bishops." Apparently, we're bowing to the ones who would hold unity above justice, at the expense of good, qualified, and called human beings. Bishops Iker, Schofield, and Ackerman can be happy. ++Akinola of Nigeria can dance at his influence over us. I'm not.

The election of +Gene Robinson as bishop of New Hampshire in 2003 brought me back to this church. The legislative body assembled in Minneapolis didn't do a bloody thing wrong. They consented to the choice made by the people of New Hampshire, of who would best lead them. In so doing, they made this church safe for all people on every kind of margin. This week, some of those who voted for +Jefferts Schori are friends of mine. I am part of this. This is my tribe. I'm in seminary in an Episcopal institution. I'm considering what form my ministry will take. I am committed to being here. The issues I left over, at 22, are still very much present. But these people made progress in my absence, and I will join my efforts with theirs.

We had done nothing which called for repentance. Not in 1976*, not in 2003, not in 2006. It is not for human beings to stand in the way of God. An Australian Anglican friend put it this way: "My thoughts on schism are that women are the price Anglicans have been willing to pay for unity for decades. My response to that is that unity is the price I am prepared to pay for women."

Unity is the price I am prepared to pay for the respect and inclusion of all of God's people.

*September 16, 1976, on the very day I turned six, General Convention authorized the ordination of women to the priesthood and episcopate.

Newsletter piece

This is something I wrote for the Ascension monthly newsletter; I thought I'd publish it here for people who are just meeting me in blogland, and for people in the Bay Area who want to keep up with what I'm doing. It had to be short, so I've left some background out. I thought about expanding it, and may later, but here I am for now. Peace.

First, I’d like to thank everyone I’ve met, on Sundays, at the rummage sale, and at vestry meeting, for making me feel welcome. Everyone’s been open and friendly; you’ve put me right at ease here. Thank you.

To introduce myself:

I’m a second-year seminarian at Church Divinity School of the Pacific in Berkeley, CA. I grew up in Everett, lived in Olympia for 17 years (during and after college at Evergreen) and was looking for a different parish experience near my home for the summer. Through recommendations, I landed at Ascension. I’m very happy here, and energized about the work I’m doing.

I’ve begun with a plan for a baptism class I’ll get to lead next week. I’m also creating something for the Altar Guild about liturgical seasons, and finding or writing prayers to accompany them. I’m integrating into the community as I go. You’ll see me sitting in the pews sometimes, and serving sometimes as well. During the week, I can be found upstairs, surrounded by my laptop, books, and tea, next to the choir’s vestments.

I’ll also be housesitting for many of you. Thank you for welcoming me into your homes while you’re gone; I now have places all summer where I know I’ll be. You’ve all been a huge help.

In the meantime, I’m asking myself questions. I know that I am called into ministry. Into what, exactly? Do I need to be ordained? Do I want to sign up with Mercy Corps, and work in Africa? What feels right, what doesn’t, where are my gifts and what can I learn? What do I absolutely not want to do? I believe that people are called where they are. When I’m in the right place, it’s like being in the middle of a waterfall. I’ve begun this journey non-traditionally. I will enter the formal discernment process at some point; I’m considering how ready I am for the rigors of that. In the moment, I’m learning, working, experimenting, and growing where God has put me.

I’ll keep you posted.

Update

I'm settling in to work at Ascension, and I really like the community a lot. The people are really friendly, and they care about me and what I'm doing. I've come up with a plan for a baptism class, and am working on revising it and adding a resource handout. I'm also working on the "Mary" element in a currently "Martha"-esque altar guild rubric. I'm writing something about the church seasons, and finding or writing prayers for them.

Went to a vestry meeting last night. We went half an hour over time, but no one cared; they just kept discussing a particular issue until everyone had been heard, and they'd arrived at something they were all happy with. It actually was really fun to watch. These are good people; they care about each other and the ministries they do. There's a lot of creativity here.

Afterwards, we ate and talked in the rector's office. Three of us went downstairs to scope out the rummage sale stuff for this weekend. I'm housesitting currently at the home of Possible Water, and didn't get up there until around midnight. I didn't go to sleep until 2. I dragged myself out of bed sometime this morning, and just sort of puttered until I was ready to leave. I drove here (to work) because I need to go grocery shopping on the way home.

The nomad thing is a challenge, but it's good to have time to myself. I'm not sure how this all will work out, but I know that it will. We did a form of lectio divina last night, with a passage from Luke. I heard in it, "Be watchful (but don't be afraid). I will make you strong enough. Listen for what is your calling." And that, I know, is my work for the summer.

I'm in a good place--or places--to do it.

5 Things in Various Places

Stolen from I Will Sing...

5 Items in my Fridge:

I don't have a fridge; I only last night got to my current housesitting gig. So, 5 items in the last fridge I had a relationship with:

1. Milk
2. Blue cheese
3. Drawer full of nuts
4. Avocados in various conditions
5. Mangos

5 Items in my Closet:

Again, I don't currently have a closet. 5 items in my last one:

1. A shirt I've had for fifteen years
2. Clothes I probably haven't worn since then
3. Girl shoes
4. Bike helmet
5. Fleece jackets

5 Items in my Car:

Here goes...

1. Bag of blue-corn tortilla chips that rode up here with me
2. Blankets and pillows I should have left in California
3. CD walkman (are they still called that?)
4. Emergency kit
5. A pair of hiking boots

5 Items in my Purse:

I don't carry a purse, and I shudder to think about either of my backpacks. 5 Items in my pockets:

1. Two or three phone numbers, with and without dates for housesitting
2. Wallet
3. Metro bus tickets
4. Phone
5. Keys

5 Items on my Desk:
1. Laptop
2. Bottle of Ritalin
3. Tea
4. Pile of books
5. Palm pilot

5 Items Flowering in my Garden:

Again, I don't currently have one. 5 plants I've recently been connected with:

1. Nasturtiums at the Apostle in Exile's house; I started them at school at Eastertime, then accidentally light-starved them on her dining-room table. I transplanted them outside before I left, and I hope they lived.
2. Boysenberries in her back yard
3. The aloe-type of plant that's outside on a street corner in Berkeley, and bigger than me
4. Most of the morning-glory in Olympia, at some time or another
5. I haven't done this in a few years, but I used to start basil plants every spring and give them away.

Quick check-in

I met the community at Ascension today; they're really warm, and excited to have me. It's going to be a good summer.

Half of Seattle is playing hot-potato with me, housing-wise. I don't feel settled yet, but I'll find my rhythm.

More later. I need a nap.

RevGal Friday Five: Rain

Wanna play?

1. Favorite way to spend a rainy day
Napping with a not-terribly-gripping novel

2. Favorite song about rain
The only one I can think of: "Here Comes the Rain Again" by the Eurythmics

3. Favorite movie featuring rain
Too obvious: "Singin' in the Rain" (which I've only seen once)

4. Favorite piece of raingear, past or present
Duck shoes! They were the first online purchase I ever made (from REI, years ago) and my feet haven't been nonconsensually wet since.

5. Favorite word for rain
"Pouring buckets", "the sky's spitting," or "God's taking a shower again"

Safe in Seattle

Exhausted. Excited. Have dicey access: none at home, and not at work until they figure out how to string a DSL line upstairs. (I'll be ensconced at a card table in the choir room.) I can walk to the library, though, which is where I am now.

Will write more later.

Peace to all.

Limbic spaces

I don't do well with being in-between. I'm crashing tonight at the home of friends in Olympia, and will drive to Seattle in the morning. I'd thought of asking them if I could shower here anyway, and then my endurance ran out before I reached Portland. If I'd had any sense of time, I'd not have tried to drive through the redwoods on the way up here. That's something to do when you're not trying to make time, and you're available to appreciate and enjoy them. They were beautiful, but I was really not in the mood. Next time, I'll go there with friends, and be there when I am there.

I left Stockton yesterday way later than I meant to. The Apostle in Exile and I got talking with people at her church, then it took me longer to pack my far-flung laundry and load the car than I'd thought it would. (Meanwhile, she made us lunch, picked berries to go with ice cream, and packed me road food--leftovers, fruit, and truffles.) Her neighbor came to show us that one of the Apostle's cats had nestled on my towel, in the open back of my packed car. And we--really I--took forever saying goodbye.

Two weeks ago, she was a friend I was going to stay with between school and summer internship: a limbic space of her own. She became truly family. She taught me so much about presence, love, and absolutely intentional friendship. She accepted my joy and my fears with equal readiness. She gave me time. And she, and God, taught me how to turn that outward to the world. I needed to learn this. I'd have liked to have gotten it before now. But now, I know that I can give this kind of love to people who need it as much as, or more than, I did. Really, we all need to be loved into ourselves. I still need this. I know enough now, to see the ways I am being fed, and to help feed other people.

I'm picturing this now:
"What did you do on your summer vacation?"
"I broke my friend's dishwasher and found God."

Oddly enough, it's true: and just in time to go start my internship, start figuring out how to live this out with my head, my heart, my body, and my time.

I woke up this morning in Garberville, California. I'll wake up tomorrow in Olympia, where I'm lying on a futon on the floor right now. I'll drive to Seattle, meet the woman who's hosting me for the summer, and go to the church to get started on all of this. I'm nervous and scared. And I can't wait to be there.

"Blah," said Toad.

What I've accomplished today: Got out of bed, fed myself breakfast and lunch, and brought in four boxes from the car. I'm exhausted, sore, and don't feel like moving. I need to transplant the nasturtiums I brought here, which are dying a slow death from light starvation. I have to want to wash yesterday's dishes. And I need to edit and post World in Prayer, since it came in my in-box and we were up later than we meant to be last night. The Apostle in Exile has a day job. I don't. She slept less than I did; apparently the cats kept her overly toasty. (I sleep quite comfortably on the living room couch.) But here I am, too brain-dead to play with someone else's writing, too tired and sore to move.

What's become of me? I drove back to Berkeley yesterday, to go to an appointment that was rescheduled from last week and to finish packing my room. The drive normally takes an hour and a half; two hours in traffic. I left the Apostle's house at 9:30, and dragged into Berkeley at 2. On the way, I got a flat tire, on the freeway. BANG! I didn't panic; I was relieved to have my cell phone with me. But I couldn't un-stick my jack enough to get the spare out from under the car, and while I have had a tire-changing lesson, it was more than ten years ago. I called 911 and had a tow truck help me. I really don't like doing the incompetent-girl thing. Alas. I am now no longer a Wal-Mart virgin, either, since the tow-truck driver told me how to get to their tire shop, a few miles down the road in Tracy. I had to wait an hour there, so I found a non-enormous-chain lunch place (Filipino) while they gave me a new tire. Then I was on my way again.

Needless to say, I missed my appointment. Oh well. I went down to Brewed Awakening and got a peach smoothie to pack by. Everything takes longer than you think it will, and I was a dirty sweaty mess at 5 when some friends from St. Aidan's came to take me out for Chinese. I found a clean shirt, and went with them. We stopped at Saul's for macaroons on the way back. I'd told them after spring break that I needed new images. One is making me a quilt from her stash pile, in purples, blues, and greens, just the size to nap in. The front is finished, so she brought it to show me. It's beautiful, and I'll have it in September.

I didn't finish packing my car until 9. Dropped the keys with my friend Vik (whom the Apostle calls my "Berkeley mom," because he once wiped my face with his napkin) and went on my way. Fortunately, I had no more mishaps. Got home at 10:30, a bit sunburned but not too much the worse for wear. The Apostle and I hung out and had ice cream. A good ending to a difficult day.

Now, I have to get off the couch and get something else done. We're going to the DioCal ordinations Saturday, and will play in the city all day after that. I'm leaving Sunday, likely via the redwoods but it depends on time. I probably won't write again until I'm in Seattle, next week.

Peace to all.