We got a new vacuum cleaner.

Hi,
Still here,
Busier than a one-armed paper hanger.
Too busy to think of a better cliche.
How are you?

Question the First: If you know of a church website that does its thing really well, please let me know, either in comments or via e-mail. I am looking for sites that are attractive, with a simplicity of design, are welcoming to visitors, and also useful to long-time members.

Question the Second: C has heard us discussing the election a good bit. We have been talking to her about the various candidates, and she knows that Hillary Clinton is running against Barack Obama for the chance to compete against John McCain to be President.

Got me thinking: Do you think it is better (whatever “better” means) to tell a young child about the historic nature of Clinton’s and Obama’s candidacies? Or is it better to treat them as no big deal? On the one hand, it’s important to know where we’ve been and how far we’ve come; on the other hand, there’s something powerful about the idea of women presidential candidates and black presidential candidates just being the normal part of things.

Discuss.

The first was an actual earthquake here in Suburban Sheol. I was at the church and heard this big rumble, as if a construction crane had dropped a bunch of really heavy stuff.

Turns out it was an earthquake, about a 1.5 on the Richter scale.

—-

The other day I was driving home from church with both girls in the backseat. We had the windows open and the girls each had baby dolls they were playing with. Suddenly M said, “My Ellie!”

I turned around and her arms were empty. I said, “Where is Ellie?!”

M cried, “She went up into the sky!”

I made a U-turn and called R, who was a couple of stoplights behind us. I told him to be on the lookout. I drove by as R was leaning out of the car to pick up the doll, who was in the middle of Big County Parkway.

She is fine, but M’s exclamation still cracks me up. Do you suppose Jesus tried to rapture up the doll and then went, “Nah…”

Today was R’s company picnic, which was fun for the whole family, but we are paying for it tonight. The kids were strung out. J-man is not settling well.

We always try to leave events right when the kids are at the crest of Fun Mountain. It’s silly to leave way too soon just so they won’t melt down, but you can’t stay too long either. Quit while you’re ahead. Leave ‘em wanting more. Etc.

This is much harder with three. And one of them is still a baby!

On the upside, I won the bubble gum blowing contest, and R won the sack race. So I guess we are worthy to be crowned Mr. and Mrs. Company Picnic.

———–

Special Bonus Conversation
in the car yesterday evening, after I took C (and J) to the Cathedral for a festival and a bit of walking around

C: Hey M, I got to see a moon rock today.
M: Oh!*
C: They brought the rock down from the moon, then put it in a stained glass window that they put in the Cathedral.
M: Oh!
C: It was so pretty.
M: Did it have nail polish on?
[pause]
C: I talk a lot when I’m tired.

*There is no way to do this “Oh!” justice with just words. She says it in a way that suggests she’s thoroughly delighted by whatever’s been said. Her voice goes up in the middle: oOOOohhh…

I am doing my Getting Things Done weekly review that I do maybe once a month (so why do I still call it a weekly review?), and this was in my inbox. I have no idea how it got there. I think the man I now share my office with put it there.

——

This is not the age of information.
This is not the age of information.

Forget the news,
and the radio,
and the blurred screen.

This is the time
of loaves
and fishes.

People are hungry,
and one good word is bread
for a thousand.

–David Whyte

That’s what this is.

I have had a cold the last couple of days. I seem to be past the worst of it. But I was beat.

SBJ was also sleeping poorly… Again? Still? But last night we pulled out all the stops. Gave him a bath, put a little hydrocortisone on his itchy patches, gave him preemptive Tylenol in case his teeth were bothering him, ran a humidifier in his room, and changed out his blanket. Aside from a brief stirring in the middle of the night, he slept until 6:30.

So you bet your buttons we did *exactly* the same thing as last night. I NEED SLEEP.

Have I mentioned that he’s started solids? He LOVES it. I have never seen a baby take to it so fast.

C is now at the point where she can buckle her own seatbelt. She says, “I’m practicing for when I’m in college.” Mmm-kay.

She has also developed this thing where she goes into the living room if she wants to have a talk with Mommy. It’s very sweet.

Is the e-mail notification working for this blog? I realize that is sort of like saying, “If you’re not present, please raise your hand.” For those of you who are signed up and are seeing this, are you getting messages when this blog is updated? Thanks.

And that’s all!

So Obama has a controversial pastor who’s setting people’s teeth on edge. What to do, what to do?

Option A:
Assess the candidate’s fitness for public service by his record:
- what he’s said
- what he’s done
- how he’s campaigned
- what he plans to do in office.
- whom he’s brought to the table.

But that’s not very much fun, is it? So…

Option B:
1. Get the Hillary/McCain campaign to subpoena the church’s attendance records to determine how often Obama was present in worship.
2. Divide that by the number of the pew he sat in, since the further up front you sit, the more you agree with the pastor.
3. Multiply that by the median number of times Obama yawned during each service.
4. Divide that result by the square root of the number of hours that Obama has spent in the presence of white people, who are, after all, sane.
5. Presto.

We should also perform a similar calculus on Hillary, provided her pastor has said anything remotely controversial, which he probably hasn’t*, since let’s be honest, most of us white Christians like our gospel with the social justice edges sanded down real smooth.

* Oh! with the exception of defending Jeremiah Wright.

Wow, a week without blogging! Is there anyone still around here?

SBJ and I had a good week in Midwestern City in Two States. He slept poorly (extremely poorly) at night, but was sunny and easygoing during the day—which is better than the converse, I suppose. He put up with being passed from person to person, sleeping in the carseat under the table while we discussed lectionary texts for hours at a time. And we were in the “carriage house” of the B&B where we all stayed, which means I never had to worry about his late-night caterwauling keeping anyone awake. Except me.

On the home front, R did a great job, as I knew he would, because he always does when I travel… (can you feel the conjunction?) BUT! They did seem to fall apart a bit as the week went on. Poor dears. First the divine miss m got the same pukey stomach bug that little she-who-is had gotten, requiring him to stay home with her for two days. Then he hurt his back, which slowed him down a lot too. And as for little she, well, she had things falling out of her head! Just look!

I was SO sad to miss this Big Event. On the other hand, the Tooth Fairy came through with a Sacagawea dollar. C’s response? “This is a dream come true.”

And BTW, she is already trying to figure out the Tooth Fairy. Gotta love those nascent critical-thinking skills.

So, the clergy group still to be named. I realized how rarely I read the Bible outside of preparing a sermon. So even though at most* 25% of these papers will be useful to me in the coming year (seeing as how I preach monthly) I got a lot out of the group. We ate a lot, laughed a LOT. The morning worship was simple but meaningful. The hospitality of the host church was first-rate. A winner!

*I say “at most” because I actually left this experience questioning the utility of the lectionary even more than I have before. I’m just not sure it serves the people like it once did. But hey, Matthew 21 is Matthew 21 regardless of when it’s preached. Nothing is wasted.

It’s good to be home.

I leave tomorrow for several days of study leave, with my clergy assistant SBJ in tow. Now that I’ve got the papers done and the bags (mostly) packed, I am now super excited to see NotShyChiRev, Texas Clergypal, will smama, apstraight, Laidback Clergypal, Seminary Galpal, and several non-pseudonymed folk.

I won’t have internet access except for on my iPhone, so no blogging… don’t know how I’ll make it through Tuesday and the Pennsylvania primary without net updates!

I’ll leave you with this mangled English from the back of our Cheerios box:

Over the past six years, Cheerios has contributed $5 million to First Book and has distributed more than 2.5 million books to kids inside cereal boxes.

Wow, it’s coming to me…

No, that’s not quite it…

Bingo.

Or perhaps

I walked along the avenue
I never thought I’d meet a girl like yoooou,
Meet a girl like yooooouuu…

C came down with the poopy pukey crud today. Ran a fever of 101. Now recent signs (ahem) suggest that M will be getting it soon.

Will J be next? Hope not, but he’s teething with a vengeance. Woke up every 2 hours last night.

R was able to take off half a day and be with C&J so I could work on some writing I needed to get done, but there’s a lot left to do before I leave Sunday for a week of study leave.

I’ll be meeting with a group of young-ish clergy folks for lectionary study. I can’t wait to be with these folks, but it won’t exactly be sabbath time, what with J coming with me. Things went OK at our overnight thing earlier this week, but I probably missed 20-25% of the actual meeting, dealing with him. It was still worthwhile, but I did ask myself “Why do I do this to myself? Why don’t I just say no to this stuff?”

I realized that, though I have a colleague who can tend toward overfunctioning, I really can’t talk, because I overfunction too, just not solely at the church. I overfunction in my LIFE.

I have been thinking lately about interruptions. The meme in ministry is that the interruptions ARE your ministry. We should never be so tied to The Schedule that we can’t stop and attend to the person right in front of us. That is true, but working a half-time position makes me, if not reject the party line outright, at least rethink it. Sometimes the interruption simply isn’t as important as the thing that you were working on before the interruption–the thing that you had carved out time to do.

In fact, we can keep ourselves over-busy with urgent-but-not-important matters, all the while putting off the important, hard work of ministry, whatever that might be. We talked at our training this week about leadership, and how leaders need to keep their “eyes on the prize” and not get blown off course. It’s not that the person in front of us isn’t important. But distractions are one way that “the Adversary” can keep us from the work of transformation. The tyranny of the urgent.

It’s also an extrovert/introvert thing for me. I think I’m more introverted than the Myers-Briggs instrument indicates for me, and so it’s important to find ways to honor my own needs, even in the midst of the interruptions. So I screen calls when appropriate. I make judicious use of a “do not disturb” sign at church. If someone asks “Is this a good time to [talk about non-urgent thing]” I will often see if we can schedule another time. But I sometimes wonder if this will negatively impact my ministry down the road, i.e. “She’s not available when I ‘need’ her.” Pastors who drop everything at a moment’s notice are affirmed.

I came across a story recently of a tall-steeple pastor in the denomination, about how, after months of not really having any quality time with his wife, the two of them carved out some time one Friday night. About midnight the phone rang, and seeing the caller ID, he surmised that it might be a ministry matter. He answered the phone. (At this point I’m wondering how he could say he “carved out time” if he answered the phone, but whatever, I wasn’t there.) It was a person who needed to talk, and while he admits to being irritated initially, the denouement of the story provides a nice “ministry moment,” which he obviously would have missed had he not answered the call.

Am I a bad person for admitting that I would have at least screened the call, if not ignored it altogether? What about all those months of not having any time with my spouse?

Now, R thinks that this is a generational thing. His theory is that our generation is much more likely to screen calls, to use the technology available to us (answering machine, caller ID), than older generations do, even if they have that technology available: If the phone rings, you answer it. Maybe. But I also am wondering, maybe it’s not generational. Maybe this is what it takes to be considered a good pastor. And maybe I’m not willing to do that…?

Almost time for bed (actually… look in the rear-view mirror, RM) but here are some highlights of the day:

This evening the girls were having crazy fun, sliding down the carpeted stairs on their butts. C was wearing these slick bloomers and tights and made it down all the stairs in about 1.5 seconds. It was wild. M was much slower, but would stop three stairs from the bottom and jump the rest of the way. I probably shouldn’t have let them do it, but dang, they were having such a good time.

In other Bad Mommy news, I drove all the way home from church with J, not realizing until I brought him inside that he was sitting completely unbuckled in his car seat. shudder

He attended his first session meeting after church. Fussed through the first part, slept through the second. Lucky kid…

His skin is much better. I want to remember the curly pile of hair on top of his head.

Today I was getting out some of C’s old clothes, putting them in M’s drawers for her to wear this summer. C became more and more distressed looking at all these old clothes (especially dresses) that she looooooooved. I said, “Yes, that’s part of growing up, isn’t it?” She cried, “But growing up is harder than I thought!” You don’t even know, kid…

Speaking of M wearing things, she wore three different dresses today.

And speaking of growing up, C has TWO loose teeth. Sheesh!

Tomorrow J and I leave for an overnight training at our presbytery’s conference center. I hope Sweet Baby J comes along with me rather than Mr. Hyde Baby. It will be a good dry run for week after next, when I will be taking him to a clergy colleague group thingy for six days in Midwestern City in Two States.

First, I recommend Gene Weingarten’s article about his experiment of reading and watching pundits for 24 hours straight. (Registration may be required)

Second, I share the following, which I did not write:

NEWSCASTER BOB: Good evening, and welcome to the news. A disturbing revelation tonight, as reports indicate the abusive treatment of prisoners in United States custody was specifically endorsed at the highest levels of government. Vice President Richard Cheney, then Secretary of State Colin Powell, National Security Advisor Condoleezza Rice, Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld, Attorney General John Ashcroft and CIA Director George Tenet specifically signed off on torture techniques like “waterboarding” that could be used on prisoners, including specific numbers of times some techniques could be used.

This contradicts frequent statements by the administration that these torture techniques were not used, and may have legal ramifications as –

PUNDIT 1: Bob, I’m going to have to break in here. We have breaking news that Democratic presidential candidate Barack Obama today turned down a cup of coffee, asking for orange juice instead. Could this be the gaffe that brings down the Obama campaign? Let’s talk to our panel of interchangeable political experts.

PUNDIT 2: This is remarkable, Interchangeable Pundit 1. Can a man be president if he turns down a cup of coffee? I think that shows a remarkable elitism — just a shocking blunder, on his part. How will Obama connect with rural America if he doesn’t show respect for them and their beverages?

PUNDIT 3: I agree, Interchangeable Pundit 2. I mean, Obama is trying to court small town voters — where does he think he is, the Ritz? How many of these people does he think have ever heard of something called “orange juice?”

PUNDIT 1: Exactly, Pundit 3. I mean, you have to think he’s just offended so many of these folks. I wrote a column last year about how much good, decent rural Americans like their morning coffee. These people don’t know what “orange juice” is. They’ve never had it. To have some guy come in to their town and ask for “orange juice”, like he was a Prussian king or something — I mean, that’s really not going to go down well with these old fashioned, everyday yokels. Really, really a blunder. It really shows his lack of respect for these small town Americans.

* :: *

NEWSCASTER BOB: …Um, all right — thank you pundits. Getting back… um… getting back to our top stories today, presidential candidate John McCain on the campaign trail today once again asserted ties between Iraq, Iran and al Qaeda that intelligence and military experts have repeatedly said do not exist. This was after several similar statements yesterday, and is seen by some as damaging to the credentials of the self-styled foreign policy expert. McCain has remained steadfast in his support of a war that has become overwhelmingly unpopular, and –

PUNDIT 1: Bob, I’m sorry — we again have breaking news on the campaign trail. In a big blow to his campaign, it seems Barack Obama has not done well in a game of bowling. He bowled quite badly — let’s again to our panel of Interchangeable Pundits for their reactions on this important developing story.

PUNDIT 2: A huge, huge blow to the Obama campaign. Obama is at huge risk of being seen as out of touch and elitist, here. I wrote a column about this just last year, about how important bowling is to rural Americans. Every small town hick in America knows how to bowl — I really don’t think these plaid-shirt-wearing tractor jockeys are going to be able to accept a president who does poorly at such a blue-collar, all American sport. It really smacks of elitism — not hitting the pins, I just think that’s an insult that all the half drunk rednecks out here in this part of the country, who really are looking for a president who understands them and their indoor sports.

PUNDIT 3: Remarkable, yet again. Not wanting a cup of coffee, doing badly at a game of bowling — this is the sort of stuff that these slackjawed hill people really look down upon. Obama really has to show he is in touch with these farm country cow tippers, that he respects them. He’s not doing it, with blunders like this. “Oh,” Obama says, “no coffee, thanks, just bring me the juice of a squeezed tropical fruit” — I just don’t know that that’s going to play with these four-tooth hayseeds and shack dwellers.

NEWSCASTER BOB: So Pundit 1, getting back to our original story, you don’t think the war is a big story, in rural America, you think coffee and bowling scores are what these Americans want to hear about.

PUNDIT 1: Absolutely, Bob. I wrote a column about this a few months ago, how these fine, upstanding turnip farmers are tired of hearing about the war, and just want a good cup of coffee and to go bowling. No matter how inbred they may be, you have to admire the simplicity of their way of life. Not elitist at all.

PUNDIT 2: Totally agree. You have to take into account that rural Americans are a simple people. This coffee incident is really the kind of story that could resonate with these wholesome, beer swilling cow tippers.

PUNDIT 3: I agree as well. Very much so.

* :: *

NEWSCASTER BOB: All right then, thank you pundits… In a related story tonight: one hundred years. That’s how long one presidential candidate says troops may be in Iraq. Meanwhile, the death toll rises almost daily. We’ll speak to several military experts tonight on whether the Iraq War is draining resources from what some call the “real” War On Terr–

PUNDIT 1: Bob, hold on, fresh breaking news here. It seems presidential candidate Barack Obama has stepped in it once again, by claiming that some small town Americans are “bitter.” We’re going to have a one hour breaking news special on this, right after this news program, but before that let’s talk again to our political experts.

PUNDIT 2: This is — this is staggering, Pundit 1. Just devastating to the campaign. You have a regular guy like John McCain, who is really in touch with these halfbreed nine-fingered dirt pickers, who really feels their pain at their telecommunication companies having to answer to federal laws, or who are really, really alarmed that the Iraq War won’t be allowed to continue indefinitely, or who just want to do their patriotic part for encouraging free trade by outsourcing their town’s jobs and industries, and then you’ve got Obama over here claiming they’re “bitter”? Wow. I mean, you have to marvel at the blunder. John McCain’s spokesman immediately came out with a statement that everything is fine, and that these rural patriots are really quite pleased at the job losses — if those job losses happened, which the spokesman denies.

PUNDIT 3: I agree, this really helps John McCain. For Obama to claim these cowpie chuckers are bitter, or that these people who have lost their jobs have been losing hope — well, that’s just the gravest of elitist insults to these flyover country half-human Sears-shopping trailer park squatters. How dare he insult them like that, by calling them “bitter”? You know, in my last column I talked about these fine small town possum scrapers, and how valuable they are to the country. These people go to laundromats where you have to put the quarters in the machines yourself — yourself! No joke, I’m not sure Obama can really relate to something like that. He’s certainly never written a column on it, that’s for sure.

PUNDIT 1: Probably too busy drinking orange juice! Ha! But seriously, I agree with your agreement. I mean, between wanting orange juice, doing badly at a sport, and claiming people who have lost their jobs are bitter, I’m just not sure what demographic he’s still trying to appeal to. Certainly not the fine roadkill-stew-for-dinner folks that make up our small towns and rural areas. They don’t care about complicated things like wars and job flight, they care about coffee and bowling and leaders who understand how much they like wars and job flight. And laundromats.

PUNDIT 2: I agree with both of your agreements with me. I wrote a column two weeks ago about these very same steak and potato halfwits, and what a treasure they were. Obama’s losing them, by talking about things like jobs and orange juice. Huge mistake.

PUNDIT 3: Indeed, if I could agree again with my agreement, I’m going to be writing a column next week about these corn-bred Godbillies. I’m not sure Obama could understand them as well as you and I do, having not written any columns about them. I think all you have to do is listen to country music — the music of the people, I might add — and you’d hear that these pickup driving dynamite-fishers aren’t bitter in the least at the closing factories. If anything, they’re grateful for the free time.

NEWSCASTER BOB: Now, hold — hold on a minute here. What you’re basically saying, what you’ve been saying all night, in fact, is that our rural Americans are essentially too ignorant and uneducated to follow stories about the war, or torture, or the failing economy, or even their own lost jobs. Instead, they want to hear stories about bowling, coffee and whether or not someone said they might feel bitter. Don’t you think that’s a bit insulting to small town America — that you’re essentially calling them stupid, not able to grasp anything but the smallest and most trivial of stories?

PUNDIT 2: Hmm, sounds like somebody hasn’t been writing any columns.

PUNDIT 3: I agree. War, torture, and the economy? What an elitist question. You know, you should visit these people sometime, you’d see how simple and upstanding they are. They do their own laundry, even — it’s inspiring, that’s what it is.

* :: *

NEWSCASTER BOB: All right, I’m just going to let this drop, I think we really need to get back to real news now. Coming up, Vice President Cheney eats a baby. Will Bush pardon the baby for not being tender enough, or leave it to the courts to decide? Coming up, an interview with the baby’s parents, who have apologized to the Vice President for their baby not tasting as delicious as the Vice President had expect–

PUNDIT 1: OH MY GOD, BOB, I HAVE TO BREAK IN HERE — OBAMA JUST PUT A NICKEL IN THE TAKE-A-PENNY BOWL. THIS COULD BE IT, BOB, I’M NOT SURE THESE SUSPENDER-WEARING BEAN EATING SHEEP SODOMIZERS HAVE EVER SEEN THAT MUCH MONEY IN THEIR LIVES, HE MAY HAVE LOST THEM WITH THAT DISPLAY OF OSTENTATIOUS WEALTH. PUNDIT 2, WHAT DO YOU THINK?

PUNDIT 2: UM, I CAN’T TALK RIGHT NOW, I’M ACHIEVING CLIMAX — ONE SECOND — ONE SECOND –

PUNDIT 3: GET ME HOME! CALL THE DRIVER, GET ME HOME RIGHT NOW! I HAVE TO WRITE A COLUMN!

NEWSCASTER BOB: Um… OK… I’m being told we’re going to take a quick break. When we come back: Democratic presidential candidate Barack Obama. Why has he never eaten a baby?

[end scene]

cleaned up a poopsplosion

snorfled the baby’s nose and he *didn’t* object, because it helped him breathe better

watched this McCain supporter make an ass out of himself

finished re-reading The Giver. Even more powerful than I remembered, whoa. Thanks for the reminder Anne.

received notification that I was chosen to do another MotherTalk book review

delivered C’s get well card “I hope U get well soon” to Mamala, who is doing well

left SBJ there with her and sister K while I

had dinner with PPB (yay!!!!!) and relived her Iona experience with her

walked back to Mamala’s beside flower beds full of brilliant purple pansies

drove home with the sunset on the Potomac and cherry blossoms over my right shoulder

decided that I love living here

Both kids are asleep—for now! We’ll see how long an update I get out of them:

Mamala/MaDear is having outpatient surgery tomorrow. There’s been a cyst on her ovary for a while now, and while it hasn’t changed, my aunt’s death of ovarian cancer increases Mom’s risk, so she’s just getting the things out. If you would, say a prayer, think good thoughts, hold her in the light—whatever it is you do.

My sister is here now—she’ll be helping with Mom this week. Gram bought the plane ticket—her way of taking care of her daughter. Great plan! Sister K’s main job will to keep Mom from pushing herself, I suspect.

Speaking of which, I’ve been calling K by C’s name and vice versa. Their names are similar, but mainly I think my cute little blond daughter must trigger memories of my cute little blond sister.

The Sabbath Experiment—round II began last night with a potluck at our house. We had a good time. I’d love to have people over more regularly. Sorta like house church. I also found out that my proposal to lead a workshop on the project at the big Presbyterian educators’ conference was accepted. San Antonio in Jan 2009! Might I finally meet Quotidian Grace there?

M is sick right now. Got the runny greenish snot. J has been surly all day and woke up THREE times last night (help me Rhonda) so I worry he might be coming down with it.

C is really working on her loose tooth. The permanent tooth is clearly coming in, so she likes to tell people that she has 21 teeth. I can’t believe how big she is. We’ll be going to kindergarten registration later this month. Yikes!

Can I just say that I love Facebook? While I wouldn’t presume to friend any of our church’s youth—I don’t want to cramp their style—several have friended me. One young man in college recently sent me a message asking some good theological questions. I provided some things to think about, which he appreciated. This is not a guy that I really knew well before he went off to school, and I know that this exchange wouldn’t haven’t happened through conventional means. Isn’t that neat?

By the way, thanks to those of you who contributed ideas to the article about keeping organized. I wasn’t able to include everything, but the article is up at Fidelia’s Sisters.

Sweet baby J is awake! Pressing Publish…

I don’t believe in destiny. Seems hokey to me.

However.

My grandmother had four children: two girls, then two boys.

My mother had four children: two girls, then two boys, with three years, two years, and two years between them.

I have two girls and a boy, with three years, then two years between them.

Is the writing on the wall?

I have felt somewhat pessimistically that with three kids I’ve crossed this threshold that makes full-time pastoral ministry impractical or even impossible. The other day I had this reckless thought: shoot, if I’ve already crossed the point of no return, why not just have four?

NO!!!!!! I really don’t want to go there. As my friend Jan says, everyone’s here now. I’m through being pregnant. I’ve been pregnant or nursing 6 out of the last 7 years. I would be like 38 when he (and it would be a he) arrives. Five people in a family is cool. It’s prime.

(It sounds like there should be a “but” following all that. There isn’t. We’re done. I don’t know where that thought came from, except that I’m getting more sleep so life doesn’t seem quite so busily bleak.)

Why do I feel like three kids automatically relegates me to the mommy track? I know several pastors with three children and they have great ministries. I think part of it is that I’m enjoying part-time. A lot. And wondering if I’ll ever want to go back to full-time. It gives all of us so much more space. And what’s wrong with the mommy track anyway? Would I rather have those 20 hours of work I gave up, or SBJ? No contest.

I’m not looking to change calls, but with my five-year ordination anniversary pending, what’s next is on my mind. I really don’t know what “moving on” would look like if I didn’t want to work full time. We also don’t want to move—we don’t want to leave our house (it’s close to R’s work, we’re finally getting it the way we want it, bad time to sell a house), and we don’t want to leave the area (MaDear, lots of other benefits).

The same day that I had this wild let’s-have-four-kids thought, we had a staff retreat. The facilitator asked us to think about Suburban Pres as a human body and consider what part of the body we were. Then others would chime in with how they saw each person. It was fun: thought-provoking and silly both.

A common answer for a pastor/preacher might be mouth or heart, I guess. I said the uterus! That’s where new life occurs. It is a place of nourishment and rest but also challenge (contractions). Anyway, others chimed in with additional thoughts, and as I sat there I felt the truth of what they were saying (it’s nice when others see you as you see yourself) but I also thought, “These are all gifts befitting a pastor of a corporate-sized church.”

The thought depressed me. I don’t feel called to be at a corporate-sized church. I don’t know how I’d do it and have it not be all-consuming, and I’m not crazy about administration. And there’s that whole passel-of-kids thing.

Meanwhile I have gotten a few e-mails just in the last week from people who were appreciative of something I’d written, and encouraging me to keep going. That’s another piece of the puzzle.

It feels like there is some serious discernment work going on, even as I’m excited about continuing my current call in its present form.

No conclusions.

You know, several years ago, I was in New York City autographing the first book that I had written. And while sitting there autographing books, a demented black woman came up. The only question I heard from her was, “Are you Martin Luther King?” And I was looking down writing, and I said, “Yes.” And the next minute I felt something beating on my chest. Before I knew it I had been stabbed by this demented woman. I was rushed to Harlem Hospital. It was a dark Saturday afternoon. And that blade had gone through, and the X-rays revealed that the tip of the blade was on the edge of my aorta, the main artery. And once that’s punctured, your drowned in your own blood — that’s the end of you.

It came out in the New York Times the next morning, that if I had merely sneezed, I would have died. Well, about four days later, they allowed me, after the operation, after my chest had been opened, and the blade had been taken out, to move around in the wheel chair in the hospital. They allowed me to read some of the mail that came in, and from all over the states and the world, kind letters came in. I read a few, but one of them I will never forget. I had received one from the President and the Vice-President. I’ve forgotten what those telegrams said. I’d received a visit and a letter from the Governor of New York, but I’ve forgotten what that letter said. But there was another letter that came from a little girl, a young girl who was a student at the White Plains High School. And I looked at that letter, and I’ll never forget it. It said simply,

Dear Dr. King,

I am a ninth-grade student at the White Plains High School.

While it should not matter, I would like to mention that I’m a white girl. I read in the paper of your misfortune, and of your suffering. And I read that if you had sneezed, you would have died. And I’m simply writing you to say that I’m so happy that you didn’t sneeze.

And I want to say tonight — I want to say tonight that I too am happy that I didn’t sneeze. Because if I had sneezed, I wouldn’t have been around here in 1960, when students all over the South started sitting-in at lunch counters. And I knew that as they were sitting in, they were really standing up for the best in the American dream, and taking the whole nation back to those great wells of democracy which were dug deep by the Founding Fathers in the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution.

If I had sneezed, I wouldn’t have been around here in 1961, when we decided to take a ride for freedom and ended segregation in inter-state travel.

If I had sneezed, I wouldn’t have been around here in 1962, when Negroes in Albany, Georgia, decided to straighten their backs up. And whenever men and women straighten their backs up, they are going somewhere, because a man can’t ride your back unless it is bent.

If I had sneezed — If I had sneezed I wouldn’t have been here in 1963, when the black people of Birmingham, Alabama, aroused the conscience of this nation, and brought into being the Civil Rights Bill.

If I had sneezed, I wouldn’t have had a chance later that year, in August, to try to tell America about a dream that I had had.

If I had sneezed, I wouldn’t have been down in Selma, Alabama, to see the great Movement there.

If I had sneezed, I wouldn’t have been in Memphis to see a community rally around those brothers and sisters who are suffering.

I’m so happy that I didn’t sneeze.

And they were telling me –. Now, it doesn’t matter, now. It really doesn’t matter what happens now. I left Atlanta this morning, and as we got started on the plane, there were six of us. The pilot said over the public address system, “We are sorry for the delay, but we have Dr. Martin Luther King on the plane. And to be sure that all of the bags were checked, and to be sure that nothing would be wrong with on the plane, we had to check out everything carefully. And we’ve had the plane protected and guarded all night.”

And then I got into Memphis. And some began to say the threats, or talk about the threats that were out. What would happen to me from some of our sick white brothers?

Well, I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn’t matter with me now, because I’ve been to the mountaintop.

And I don’t mind.

Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land!

And so I’m happy, tonight.

I’m not worried about anything.

I’m not fearing any man!

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord!!

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