At Pokagon with Colleagues

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I'm enjoying a little time with colleagues in the next couple of days. The Heartland Unitarian Universalist Ministers Association chapter is in its Winter Conference at the Potowatomi Inn at Pokagon State Park in Angola, Indiana, and last night we "checked in" with each other and had a first worship time. There are more people participating than we've had before (in my experience), including a number of the "Big Boys" from our larger congregations. I'm looking forward to learning from their wisdom and experience.

I am looking forward to today's program with Rev. Stefan Jonasson who is the Large Church consultant from our national headquarters in Boston and who also is the pastor to a number of small churches in western Canada. He is an entertaining folklorist with an extensive business background (in Human Resources/Personnel), and is continuing a presentation he began last year on staff supervision.

Our staff at the UU Church of Flint is small. I supervise a half time Director of Lifespan Learning, Amy Derrick, who in turn supervises volunteer teachers and paid child care workers; a half-time Office Assistant, Cheryl Craig, hired last August, who is a joy to work with and who spends a lot of time with key congregational volunteers; a one day a week Music Director, Pia Broden-Williams, who is a graduate student at Michigan State and a tremendously accomplished singer, and who makes me cry when she shares her gift on Sundays. I will be supervising a Superintendent/Building Manager when he (it looks like) is soon hired, pending reference check and other HR issues, and that person will work with volunteer custodians and other key volunteers.

The task of these next few days is to think about how supervision happens in different size churches. Patterns are set in small, family-sized churches where the members are the staff and where lines of authority are unclear; and the patterns persist even as the congregation grows to having hired professionals. My task, just now, feels like I need to set clearer expectations with the people that I supervise and with the Board members who would like to get in the middle of the supervisory relationships to direct the work of the staff. My encouragement to my Board has been to assert that the strongest possible action by Board members will be to strengthen the Supervisor-Supervisee relationship; when staff members have quesitons about priorities and evaluaiton of their work, that Board members will encourage the staff to speak to their supervisors . . . Well, that's how I hope it will work.

I'm pleased, too, in this setting to be able to "let my hair down" with colleagues, to strengthen our collegiality and, frankly, my affection for them. There are a couple of colleagues with whom I am developing much closer relationships, and I hope that these couple of days (and especially at night over a glass of wine!) will afford some time for frank consideration of how we are doing as religious liberals in this economically depressed part of our country.

It is pretty cold out; but the hotel is warm as are the hearts.

Good morning.

Where Did the Week Go?

I wish I could figure out how to download a photograph from my cellular telephone. Last Tuesday morning, I got a phone call from Amy Derrick, Director of Lifespan Learning at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Flint, Michigan. She sounded radiant, and announced the birth of Alexandra Elizabeth Derrick that morning, a little before 3 a.m., a few ounces short of 8 pounds. Within a few minutes of our phone call, she had taken a photo of a little agnel sleeping peacefully, and sent it to my cellphone where it sits in my "saved messages" folder . . . but where I can't figure out how to e-mail it to myself or otherwise download it.

That morning, I was in Loveland, Ohio at Grailville, an intentional community that was hosting a three day meeting of the Heartland Unitarian Universalist Ministers Association. The Heartand includes most of the UU congregations in Michigan, a few congregations in western Ohio, most of the congregations in Indiana and all of those in Kentucky. Parish ministers, ministers of religious education and community ministers, as well as retirees and ministerial interns and students, are members of the Heartland Chapter, and we are all part of a continental Association of UU ministers.

Each year, we meet three times. In the fall, we convene for three days near where the states of Ohio, Indiana and Kentucky meet. In the winter, we spend five days together where the states of Ohio, Indiana and Michigan meet. In the spring, me meet for one day before the Annual Meeting of the Heartland District of the Unitarian Universalist Assocation, which meeting moves around the district. (in my first spring, it was in Indianapolis; last spring it took place in Grand Rapids, next year it will meet in Louisville.)

The Grailville meeting begins on Monday evening. Because I am teaching a course in our Monday School, and because Amy is on maternity leave (!), I felt I needed to miss the first evening of the Grailville meeting, and drove with my colleague Rev. Jane Thickstun, minister of the Midland, Michigan UU Fellowship after class, leaving Flint a few minutes before nine and arriving in Grailville a just before two a.m. And a few mimutes later, Alexandra was born, and a few hours later I got thr call!

Throughout the day on Tuesday, my ministerial colleagues and I shared hours of sitting and sharing around the Four Divine Abodes of Buddhism, metta (loving kindness), karuna (compassion), mudita (appreciative joy) and upekkha (equanimity). We shared in a style like the Covenant Circle small group ministry of my congregation, sharing readings and stories of our own lives, attentively listening to each other and sitting in silence, noting questions raised by our being with one another, and then leaving. The format of the day reflected an aspiration of our chapter: that we not only meet and learn together, but that we practice our spirituality with one another in a sustained way.

I have been without a laptop since I used my Powerbook as a toboggan in mid-August and broke its hinge. (I continued to use it as a desktop computer through the end of the month when the display began to flicker. Then I bought a shiny new iMac for my desk at church, along with this old iMac at home.) Had I had a lapotp in Grailville, I might have used it to blog. Instead, I took a few notes on paper (which are now in my study at church). But it is probably more important to me that I actually stopped for a day, sat still, let my emotions (fears and anxieties, you know) be present and then followed the breath to another, deeper place. That place, so distant in my everyday life. With even the feeblest intention, and a few very deep breaths, that place becomes imaginable.

I love maps. On the way down to Loveland and back, I wanted to be sure about where we were on the map, to be sure that I knew where Jeffersonville and Indianapolis are, places where I have colleagues whom I'd love to visit. I used to have an atlas by my bed. At night, as I prepared to dream, I loved to look at that atlas, to see the latitude of Mosow and l"Anse aux Meadows, of Reykjavik and Santo Domingo. I loved to see where I'd been in the world, places to which I longed to return, places I wanted to visit for the first time. I love maps.

Sitting with my colleagues, I longed for a fuller map of the soul, of my soul. For a richer, more descriptive pattern and plan for achieving some kind of illumination. Not that there haven't been moments on my life of deep "knowing," but how often they have come to me in dramatic, unexpected ways. I speak of the majesty of the world often, of the large bodies of water that put me in touch with everything, of the train-trek to Pilatus to enjoy a snowball fight in July, of the Grand Cayon where I sat and stared and wondered.

But I haven't shared with anyone, that I can remember, my story of being overwhelmed "by everything" when I visited the basilica of Sacre Coeur on Montmartre in Paris, or my varied experiences with pentecostal worship, or even the step by step climbing to the Oratory of St. Joseph in Montreal. How do these experiences fit into the map of me? How does my desire to study maps of the St. James pilgrimages in France and Spain mirror and more fully explain my desire to delve mor deeply into my spiritual path? And what does it mean that I "know" that my "knowing" has much to do with walking side by side with janitors and nursing hme workers and undocumented immigrants in their quest for full humanity and justice.

Wednesday brought the long ride home, and on Thursday lots of catching up. The study, e-mail and phone messages. The calendar. A delicious dinner with Marion Van Winkle and Dr. Van. A distinguished lecture at Mott Community College by Morris Dees of the Southern Poverty Law Center.

Friday morning (on my day off) I met with Dr. Rayna Bick to cover last minute arrangements for Sunday's service, a special report by our congregational volunteers who went to New Orleans to do post-Katrina rebuilding. More tasks! Then on Saturday, the March for Peace in honor of Gandhi's birthday; and a wedding; and technical preparation for Sunday morning; and too short a night of sleep; and then a full Sunday.

And then some exhaustion.

What stops on the map of the week? Picking tomatoes. Watering newly planted birches. Harvesting a dozen gladioli, and sharing them with a neighbor. Walking to work this morning. (I'm just about to do this!)

And watching the sun rise. So late! Nearly eight o'clock before the sun is really up. (Almanac says sunrise was at 7:40.) Muggy morning, with the sound of buzz saw in the neighborhood. The "white noise" of the expressway in the distance.

And me breathing. Hmm.

Good morning.

Smiling and Satisfied

Okay, I promise that this is not a smarmy post-sex post. But I am sitting here smiling and deeply satisfied about weekend activities that left me totally exhausted.

On Saturday, I had an all-day-and-into-the-night work "day." A training session for volunteers who make our Sunday morning possible (greeters, ushers, worship associates, office and kitchen volunteers and sound technicians) brought 37 people out. That's over a third of our active members. What a joy! We shared thoughts about what we have been able to accomplish with one another; we found places where we weren't sufficiently communicating with one another; we tried to imagine being more consistenly a welcoming place for newcomers. I think we shared some positive ideas and hope that we are finding a way to work together better.

Then I worked on preparation for the Sunday service. We had our Ingathering to mark the start of the program year. I arranged the Sanctuary chairs into as big a circle as the room could hold, and tried to make it so that no one would attempt to sit in a second row. (Failed at that one, by the way.) Got a large plastic washtub, perched on top of a box, in the center of the room, ready to take water brought by attendees from the many places our families have visitied this summer. Then went to Bordine's Nursery in Grand Blanc township to find some plants on-sale to surround the tub. I was expecting mums, of course, and got them. But also found a nice looking flowering plum (bushy, not in flower, but with pretty purple leaves) and a green and yellow Jacob's Ladder. Brought those back to the church in time to greet the leaders of our Youth Group who were setting up for an overnight lock-in of teenagers. Then met with Pia Broden-Williams, our Music Director, to cement the music for Sunday's service. Then made corrections to the Sunday bulletin . . .

You can imagine that I was pretty wiped by midnight, when I got to bed.

At 5:30, I decided to sleep in a little (choosing not to write) and re-set the clock for 7:00 a.m., when I'd see the glow of sunrise, and be thoughtful for a few minutes before showering and dressing and getting to church to have breakfast with the teens and to cut a CD of special music for the Sunday service.

Our Ingathering was as rich as it ever is. I was touched to hear the simple stories some of us shared; to note the connections people made to each other; to laugh when one member sought the aid of another in pouring a half dozen containers of water from many places; to see the "more than water" sharing of a seashell, or a photograph; to encourage the children to note well what was poured into the common receptacle, and to marvel when little candles were floated on the surface of the water to symbolize our prayers.

Amy Derrick, our Director of Lifespan Learning, carried the theological weight of the morning in reading the story, "Water Dance," and then talking about how water is such a potent symbol for many religious traditions. While her story was directed to our children, it was the message for us all, and I delighted to see this very-pregnant and very-vibrant young woman showing intellectual leadership of the community.

Pia Broden-Williams, our Music Director, sang "Come Down, Angels" and led us in our opening song "Come, Come Whoever You Are," during which I led the spiral dance, and the closing "Bashanah haba'a," which we sing as "Soon the Day Will Arrive." Pia was raised in an African Hebraic home, and marks the Jewish Days of Awe, and added a soaring descant in the last chorus, when she and I switched over to Hebrew for a few lines, and sped the tempo up just a bit. (Thank you Jennifer Howard at the piano!)

A group of our children took the water tub out to our Memorial Garden and poured a libation at its portal and then poured the remaining water on many of the trees and plants in thememorial garden. We started with the double white birch which is planted by the ashes of John Straw's parents (his grandsome Chris and Leonard helped) and then it was up to the children's inspired play that the rest of the water was poured. And then, of course, the tub was abandoned, as was I . . .

Our monthly "pot luck" luncheon was full of tomatoes, and good spirits; plenty of interaction among people about activities in the church and in our lives. I shared coffee and a little fruit, and stopped for a moment to discover that a 5:30 meeting I was expecting to attend had been moved to another time. I checked things in the Sanctuary, made sure my study was locked up, and left to go home to fall asleep on the day bed upstairs.

I did stop to check in on Lucy Mercier and her boys (Linda Campbell, who had been up all night with the teenagers had gone to bed), and was pleased to be offered a little oven roasted chicken and some potato salad as the boys ate McDonald's. Jennifer Howard stopped by, too, and Lucy and I made arrangements for our weekly Minister and Moderator meeting . . . and then, finally, I went home.

I woke up at 5 or so, considered, for a minute or two, getting up and cutting the grass. But I let that pass, and allowed myself as much sleep as my body would take. Watched a DVD in the early evening (Arlington Road, what an amazing pre-9/11 anti-terrorism movie), and then finally hit the sack at 11.

And rose this morning smiling and satisfied. Watered the transplants and the new plants waiting to be put into the garden. Moved some variegated ivy out of the window boxes and porch urns and into a space at the edge of a maple tree where not much seems to grow. Watered my herbs, again, and the very late gladioli. Tossed old watermelon rind into the cuttings and leaf pile (not managed anough to be a real compost pile!). Then came to work to start the day a litttle early.

Overcast, cool, invigorating.

Good morning.