Mom and Pastor on Edge

Dear World, Let Me Explain

Dear World,

Let me explain. In the United States of America, we just elected a president. And by "we", I mean half of us. With near precision, 50% of votes were cast for one candidate, and 50% for the other. There was nearly an even split in the popular vote.

And so, there is something that matters even less than the candidate for whom we voted. What matters to me is the word "binary". The presidential vote illustrates we are a country that currently thinks in binary terms, that is: this/that, either/or thinking. Last night, as the map of the United States became decidedly red, it took on a deeply different look than it had eight years ago, when it became decidedly blue. 

Our this transitioned to that. Or perhaps, our that has changed to this. Again, it doesn't matter whether the voters in my nation wanted to paint the country blue or red. What matters is that there is a pendulum that has swung from one side to another. And that's worth stopping to notice.

I want to point out to the world and to my country something Rabbi Ed Friedman, a family therapist, explained 20 years ago. Either/or thinking inhibits progress. Either/or thinking leaves us stuck. It will divide people into two stuck groups instead of uniting us into one group that moves forward.

Last night in my home, my boys, my husband and I prayed for our country and for whomever was about to be elected. My husband prayed for "e pluribus unum", which is a Latin phrase on American coins. He prayed for "one out of many". In its origin, this term was meant to create unity out of a country pieced together by many parts of the world. 

If we remain many parts, deeply divided, there cannot be one out of many. Even if a wall is built, I think we need to be honest that it will not create "e pluribus unum". 

In the end, World, as you watch this nation of mine, a place I am proud to live because I was privileged enough to cast a vote and state my opinion, I am hopeful. I am hopeful that perhaps this last pendulum swing might wake us up to the division in a way that would lead us to heal it. Maybe we would stop using social media and other mediums to strengthen our opinions, and start to dialogue. Maybe we would become fabulous listeners who really hear the hopes of our neighbor. Maybe the next election will be more about raising up nominees who are worth emulating...

Well, World, I just wanted you to know this post-election day has many people thinking.

Your Friend,

Lisa

A Morning Prayer

God of brand new life, you have entrusted me with this day. Thank you.

Thank you for the conversations I will join and the coffee I will sip. Thank you for the bulletin I will help prepare for worship, and for the people with whom I work. Thank you for my family and for the schools and day care in which they are playing and learning and administrating. Thank you for the Body of Christ at St. John that you have gathered us into.

Forgive me for the wrong I will do. For the way I will wander from your counter-culture, unbelievable, easy-to-ignore vision of hope for this world. Forgive me for the moments when I will be complacent to let someone speak words against a neighbor, against your promise of hope, against your model of mercy. 

Bring life and light into this world through ordinary people like me. May my words and deeds be Spirit-filled, intent on relationships over efficiency, humility over pride, and grace over judgement. 

In the hope of Christ's resurrection dawn. Amen.

19th Amendment, Still Amending

Today commemorates the 1920 19th Amendment of the Constitution, granting women the right to vote. It is Women's Equality Day, and for that, I am grateful.

Throughout the past year, I have considered more than I ever had before the significance of my gender, not only in my life as a pastor, but in my life as a person, a mom, and a spouse. Why now? I suppose as life moves quickly from one thing to another, it takes some awareness to actually stop and think about it. 

And when St. John called me to serve as senior pastor a year and a half ago, some people remarked the uniqueness of a senior pastor who is female. It is new in the life of St. John, and frankly quite rare in the life of even our own denomination, the ELCA. In the larger scope, it is almost unheard of in the Christian Church across the world.

When the ELCA elected its most recent Presiding Bishop, Elizabeth Eaton, she was asked many times what it was like to serve as the first female bishop of our denomination. Her response was both epic and prophetic. She stated, I am a bishop, and I long for the day I will no longer be called a female bishop, but simply a bishop.

I pray her leadership and words like those would continue to move the ministry of the Christian Church forward, setting our eyes on God's work without getting stuck on the worker. 

There are other words that have profoundly shaped my thoughts about my gender, and how being female shapes my life as pastor, person, woman, and parent. (If you think all of those identities simply meld together and need not be separated, we should have coffee and chat.)

Karoline Lewis, preaching professor at Luther Seminary, wrote what I feel is a foundational book in this conversation about pastors who are women. She: 5 Keys to Unlock the Power of Women in Ministry is a book helpful both for women and for people who know women. =)  

She covers ground that had been previously uncovered, naming sexism that pastors who are female face quite regularly, as we negotiate our call to care for all people, while maintaining our own integrity and personal boundaries. These waters can be treacherous, and I am thankful Lewis brought out into the open much of what pastors (not only female, but all genders) have sometimes been expected to live with complacently. 

The 19th Amendment created new opportunities for women. It would take more than 30 years after the 19th Amendment passed for women to vote in my own congregation. Only another decade or so would go by before women would preach from the pulpit. 

Much has changed in the past century, yet much has not. 

I grow weary at every premarital counseling session in which the couple has discussed dividing responsibilities in their homes, and made a plan to work together 50/50. They are excited to work together and call themselves egalitarian. It seems such a logical plan, but I know very, very few couples who pull this off. And I admire them fiercely.

Why should it be acceptable for a woman to work all day only to come home and work all evening, preparing and cleaning up supper, doing load after load of laundry, and putting kids to bed without equal support from a spouse? 

Perhaps the 19th Amendment still has some amending to do in our daily lives, as we celebrate the freedom we are given in Christ to be beloved child of God. May the watery baptismal mark on our foreheads assure us we belong to God, not to a system, not to a tradition that takes from our whole self, not to any words that encourage us to believe we (any one of us) is less.

It is Women's Equality Day. Someday, maybe it will simply be "equality day", and we will wonder why in the world it was ever anything different.

 

 

Last Stop on Highway 101: Seaside, Oregon and Finally Seattle

And there it was ahead of us, the end of our drive on Highway 101. Before we exited off the coastal highway, we stayed in Seaside, Oregon, just north of (and much cheaper than) the quaint city of Cannon Beach. 

At Cannon Beach, we did what a person simply must do and walked along the shore to Haystack Rock.

Now, this is embarrassing to admit, but assuming all things Goonies (historic movie) happened in Astoria, Oregon, I did not realize this was the rock from the final scene of the movie until later! A total “well, duh”; moment for me. So we did not fully absorb the awesomeness of being at the site of a historic movie scene. But it was still spectacular! 

We spent the night in Seaside at a motel that we drove up to with our fingers crossed, hoping for better luck than we had in Crescent City. 

Whew! We were in luck! The motel was nothing fancy, but there was a clear effort on the part of the owners to make this a hip place, splashing color in ordinary places and uniqueness in ordinary corners. I would definitely recommend the Coastal Motel in Seaside. 

At this point in the vacation, Marcus and I had spent more consecutive time together than we probably ever had in our life together! At dinner, we chatted over a few questions that popped out at me one day on Pinterest. These are the ones that were the most interesting to ask each other: 

“What is the first thing you would do if you woke up tomorrow as the opposite sex?” 

“What would you say is your greatest success?” 

“What is your biggest regret?” 

“What would be your ideal job if resources were not an issue?” 

As we celebrated the past 15 adventurous years of marriage, we had time to do things together like laundry and grocery shopping, things we do separately and hurriedly in real life, as opposed to vacation life.  

After staying in Seaside, we drove about 15 minutes north to Fort Claptson, where Lewis, Clark, Sacacagawea, and all of the Corps. of Discovery wintered.

It is a historical site that is simple and to the point. There is a replica of the fort where the 33 people stayed from November to March, waiting for the winter to be mild enough to travel back east and report their discoveries. 

From there, we were ready to hit the interstate, going from Astoria, Oregon to Longview, Washington. 

In Longview, we would eat one of our favorite food discoveries: the prime rib grilled cheese. (Insert, Homer Simpson drool and drooling noises.)  

And then onto Seattle, the last stop of our adventure, where we would spend two days.

                                            Seattle Mariners versus the St. Louis Cardinals. 

                        View from our hotel room, with the Space Needle off in the distance.

And by the end of those two days in Seattle, we would be very, very ready to go home, but perhaps not as ready as the grandparents watching our kiddos! 

                                                                                            

                                                                                                                   THE END

My Favorite Stop on the Pacific Coastal Highway

Shortly after leaving the Redwood Forest, we also left Highway 1 to embark on Highway 101 for Oregon. 

Before leaving California, we stopped at the very touristy drive-through tree near Leggett. We drove through the tree. It cost us $5 and almost as much in gas as we waited in line. 

But hey, we drove through a tree! 

Next, we made it to Newport, Oregon, my favorite stop on the Pacific Coastal Highway. Earlier this year, I discovered my very favorite beer of all is a hazelnut ale made by Rogue Brewery. This is a brown ale that could be confused for a not-too-sweet dessert. Newport is where it all began. I was very excited to go to the source of my favorite beer. 

We did not tour the brewery because, just as I am glad my computer works and I do not need to understand every details about how that happens, it is not necessary for me to see how my favorite beer comes together in a bottle. I am just glad it does. 

What I did discover at Rogue Brewery was a splash of chocolate stout added to my hazelnut ale does the unthinkable: it makes it even yummier! 

We also ate at a fantastic restaurant called Georgio’s, as well as enjoyed a spectacular view of the ocean from our room at the Shilo Inn. In Newport we did everything we wanted to do on this vacation: enjoyed the coast, enjoyed great food and beer, and slept in. The perfect trinity. 

“…to the Redwood Forest. This Land Was Made For You and Me.”

The greatest gift Crescent City gave to us was a quick entrance into the Redwood Forest. Following the advice of reviewers on Trip Advisor, we went to Jedediah State Park. For a meager $8 parking pass, we took a walk on a breathtaking trail. 

I was really excited for Marcus to see the Redwood Forest. He is a nature guy with a deep knowledge of trees and plants, and an appreciation of God’s creation. Like a lot of places, you can read about the redwoods and marvel at photos, but it is an entirely different thing to witness the dimensions of these trees! 

Not only the trees themselves, but how they cohabitate with the ecosystem they exist in. 

For example, this is a tree stump with enough nutrients to grow another tree out of its deadness. 

This tree that fell over some time ago is feeding the ground as it decomposes. Marcus was counting the tree rings and supposed this tree to be about 900 years old! 

To walk through this forest was nothing short of absolutely stunning. You cannot fully describe the aroma of it all. Imagine a combination of dirt, wet bark, leaves, and campfire.  

Our walking path took us to this shallow stream, filled with perfectly clear water.

The beach along the stream is all smooth rocks of every size. Someone before us had written her name in rocks, while someone else created a rock snowman!  

The Redwood Forest was one of our very favorite stops, right up there with our next one. 

The Adventure Continues: One Place to Stop and One Place to Avoid

Planning a trip to a faraway place is made easier by www.tripadvisor.com. You can see pictures of and read comments about hotels, restaurants, historical sites, and all other attractions. Of course, you have to try to be objective about people’s reviews, asking questions like, “Was this sunny review written by the great-aunt of the owner?” and “Is this reviewer crabby that the rain is wet, too?”

After Muir Beach Overlook and lunch at a little town not far from there, our next stop was in Point Arena for the night. The Wharf Master’s Inn looked pretty cool online. Luckily, it was pretty cool in real life, too!

Perhaps every coastal town has its story, and Point Arena is no exception. (Photo of Marcus below)

In 1913, a sparse crew of 15 young men from Japan chartered a 15-meter fishing boat across the Pacific Ocean. The monument on the coast recalls their adventure this way: “Entrusting their dreams and hopes to a compass.”

On the Tuesday night we “docked” at Point Arena, we ate at one of the two restaurants open in the small town, gathering with the locals. Marcus, more the extravert than me, stuck around after supper to take in the culture as the local fisherman drank and chatted. He did decline when one of them invited him to their table for a birthday celebration!

The next night, my luck with Trip Advisor was, well, not so lucky. A camera can do remarkable things in a motel room with a skilled eye behind it. When we reached Crescent City, California, with its stretch of uninviting motels, things looked grim.

And grimmer still when we pulled up to the motel I had thought looked alright on Trip Advisor. When we opened the door to our room…we bravely entered and assured each other it would only be for one, single night.

However, Crescent City, too, has its own story. This little “city” has survived not one, but two tsunamis. Not only that, but it has a phenomenal little restaurant called Marlins that serves delicious Italian and Mediterranean food, including a wicked chicken parmigiana and a scrumptious cannoli.

But beware of the motels. And tsunamis.

A few more photos...

                                                     (love that selfie-sunglasses reflection)

What You May Need that I Needed on Highway 1

The Pacific Coastal Highway begins south of San Francisco, but we decided to begin north of San Francisco on Highway 1. If you are anything like me, do not attempt to ride or drive on this road without some motion-sickness medication.

This part of the adventure was nearly too adventurous for me. I spent the entire trip on Highway 1 doing what anyone who goes through motion-sickness knows to do: even though Marcus was the driver on this stretch, I kept my eyes on the road ahead of me! You do not, I repeat, you do not want to be in a hurry on this highway! There are more twists and turns on this 180 mile stretch of road than there are on all the roads in North Dakota put together and multiplied by two.

The most beautiful thing I learned throughout our adventure on the Pacific Coastal Highway was the interconnectedness of the world. Parts of this highway look like Wisconsin, with lush trees and happy cows grazing on hills. Other parts are beachy, like I would expect California to be. And still other parts resemble North Dakota, with endless seas of grass, not water. The mountain passes felt like Needles Highway in South Dakota, or Bear Tooth Pass in Montana.

John Muir, a legend on the Pacific Coastal Highway, said something similar. “When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the Universe.” The beauty of the few parts of this giant earth that I have seen is well-represented and interconnected on Highway 1.

Muir, along with several other conservationists, convinced the federal government to preserve spaces for national parks at the start of the 20^th Century. Such an act took away from production of things like lumber in the Redwood Forest, and grazing space for animals. It was a radical move that took so much foresight it is a miracle it happened at all.

There is a beach overlook named after Muir not far north of San Francisco, where both photos were taken. It was Marcus’ and my first glimpse of the coast away from the hubbub of San Francisco. There was nothing to get in the way of the unrefined and glorious view of the Pacific Coast, rugged and rocky and none-too-gentle. On much of the coast we saw, the waters are cold and angry, its waves pushing their way from the ocean to carve their presence into the sand.

Thanks to John Muir and others with his determination, these views are unadulterated and there for all to enjoy.

 

The Chocolate Lava Cake That Challenges the First Commandment

“You shall have no other gods before me.” 

Luther: “We are to fear, love, and trust God above anything else.” 

And then there was Chocolate Lava Cake at the Charter House on Pier 39. 

Truth be told, San Francisco was one of our least favorite stops on the anniversary adventure. We stayed at Fisherman’s Wharf, traveled downtown on a cable car, and traversed along some of the more touristy piers. (The sun was really bright, so I added the shades I should have been wearing that day.)

The highlight was the food. And the highlight of the food was the Chocolate Lava Cake, which demands some patience because Charter House makes it from scratch. From scratch, people! 

You will wonder if there could be anything better to eat in the entire universe and then you will want to remember that you risk breaking the First Commandment as you worship the heavenly chocolate goodness. 

When we weren’t eating (which was not often), we were really impressed with the tour of the USS Pampanito, a WWII sub. It is probably most remembered for picking up British and Australian Allies who had been taken captive by a Japanese sub the Pampanito later torpedoed. At the start of the tour, you are given a headset to play as you walk through the sub. Stories are told and the ship is described mostly by naval officers who served on the ship in WWII. It is a great piece of history well cared for. 

My mistake in San Francisco was not booking a tour of Alcatraz ahead of time. There was no way to get to that island without trying to swim to it, which would have been even less desirable than the Uber ride. So we missed out. 

From San Francisco, we headed north on the Golden Gate Bridge to Highway 1, where I learned a very important lesson about traveling on the Pacific Coastal Highway. More on the lesson I learned on Highway 1 next time.

The Adventure Begins and Nearly Ends in San Francisco

This may not sound like a nice thing to say, but after you have traveled in airplanes accompanied by little kids, there is nothing more freeing than flying with no little kids! No toddlers touching every disgusting surface an airport offers, no convincing a small child the pressure in his ears will soon go away after take-off (what in the world is “take-off”, he will want to clarify), and no guilt over the justifiable amount of commotion a wiggly kid is capable of in such a confining space as an airplane. 

I thought it was funnier than Marcus did when two boys about the same age as our boys sat behind us with their dad on one of the flights. (I learned later the one behind Marcus spent much of the flight kicking the back of his seat. Yes, not so funny.) But I thought it was HILARIOUS when, shortly before we landed, one of the busy boys demanded of his brother, “Henry, scratch my back.” His request was met with a quick and firm: “No.” Then, “Dad, scratch my back.” This was met with dead silence because the dad’s earbuds had been providing adequate protection from the busy brothers for perhaps the entire flight. 

Marcus and I landed in San Francisco on a sunny Sunday afternoon and asked Uber for a ride. (If this is an unfamiliar term, Uber is an app that connects you with a local driver who works for Uber. It is less costly than a cab or shuttle.) 

It actually took us two Uber attempts, which would have been uber annoying, but we were too happy to be on vacation to care. As newbies to the San Francisco airport, we were at the wrong place when the driver arrived to pick us up. Five dollars later, a second driver came and we were obediently waiting at the right place. 

I was most fortunate to have taken a motion-sickness pill a few hours prior for the flight. The Uber ride was perhaps the scariest ride…of…my…life. I did indeed worry that this would be the first day of vacation and the last day of my life. 

I have been on freakishly fast and furious cab rides before, but not over the hills of San Francisco! Truthfully, I suspect that the beautiful woman carpooling with us had caught the eye of the Uber driver and he was pulling out all his Jimmy Johnson antics. Needless to say, we arrived at our hotel quickly and very relieved. 

My first mission was to begin a daily ritual of mailing a postcard to each of our kiddos. This turned out to be one of the highlights of the trip for me. It was great fun to tell each of them something different about our day, and to know they would have fun getting something in the mail. (Thanks, Janice Kelling, for this idea!) 

More tomorrow about San Francisco and the chocolate lava cake that will leave you in great conflict with the First Commandment.