Ten Things I’m Thankful for Today
- Birthdays! My brother’s birthday was Monday. My mom’s birthday is tomorrow. My husband’s birthday is Saturday. That’s a lot of birthday love in the span of a week. Tonight after work, Steve and I are heading to Okoboji to join up with Mom, my brother, my sister-in-law, and my adorable nieces. We will celebrate birthdays and life and summer.
- Pastor-y things! I do love being a pastor. As I move into my second year in Goldfield, I’m grateful that even the hard days are good days. Serving this church and this community excites me.
- Cheap school supplies! I don’t really need them, but I can’t resist a cheap notebook and new pens.
- Laundry! No, really. I was remembering all the trips to the laundromat a few years ago. I hope I never take forgranted that I can do laundry in my basement whenever I want.
- Rain! Man, did we need it. I’m thankful that we’ve gotten a little bit the last two days. I don’t know a lot about corn, but I swear it’s standing a little taller and swaying with a little more exuberance because of the rain.
- Walking! Since I bought my fitbit, I’ve become one of those people who tracks steps. I don’t completely obsess, but it’s helped to make me more active. I just left my desk for five minutes to walk a few laps around the sanctuary and the fellowship room. Probably looks weird, but it got blood moving and gave me more energy.
- Points! I’ve rejoined WW and tracking food is tedious, but it keeps me focused and helps me avoid temptation a little better. I’m grateful for fruits and veggies… and trying a little harder to eat both.
- Books! I ordered a few that were recommended during the morning class I took at Synod School last week. The class was The Productive Pastor. I’ll share the book titles as I get to them.
- A new dress! I was the target of a facebook ad and I fell for it. Torrid has a dress that has muppets all over the skirt. Who can resist a good Muppet dress? It came in the mail today.
- Renewing a domain name! Well, that’s just crazy. But I did pay to keep sarabsutter.com for another year. Enter the optimism about posting more in the future and blah blah blah. But maybe this time I will.
During seminary, self care was at the heart of recurring messages from professors and mentors. “Take care of yourself.” How obvious it seemed. Read your Bible. Take time to pray. Go on a walk. Remember to drink water. Breathe. All good things.
Self care should be simple. Turns out that’s not how it works, though. I get lost in the list. Seems like there’s always another two or ten things to do at the end of a day. Even when I’m efficient, even when I’m focused, even when I’m on top of my game, I still struggle with guilt that I’m not getting enough done. I’m not able to be everything to everyone.
If I crush it at church, I am exhausted at home. If I clear out time for home and family, I feel bad that I’m leaving stuff unfinished at church. The balance part baffles me. In the middle of everything else, I’m not very faithful at self-care. In the scramble to stay on top of household responsibilities, I lose my good intentions to the chaos of just getting by.
I know I’m not alone in this. Sometimes at the store I make eye contact with others who have the same weary, yet frenzied look on their face. I see social media posts and assume people might put on a brave face, but they’re trying to get through it all, too.
I don’t want to just get through. I don’t want to lose my life in the blur of the next ten things I need to do. And so I’m trying to return to self-care without the accompanying guilt. I signed up for Weight Watchers online and I’m relearning what it means to eat nourishing food. I’m finding balance in treats and counting food with points.
Yesterday, Steve and I signed up to join a wellness center. I couldn’t make it back to workout before they closed at 7, but I did an inhome walking dvd to practice sweating and taking time to exercise. It’s a new rhythm. I hope it sticks.
Part of the rhythm of self-care is going to include writing for me. Not writing for a sermon, a newsletter, social media… but just writing for me. And it’s okay to carve out time for things that refresh and give me life. I’ll repeat that until it sinks in deep.
I have owned a piano for almost six months now. When we loaded it in my car, I remember thinking “In six months, if I haven’t used this much, I will resell it and free up space in our living room.” I wasn’t sure that I would practice piano anymore as an adult than I did as a middle school kid. Mom faithfully paid my piano teacher Mrs. Gatrost, and I faithfully showed up at her house for my lesson each week, having tried to cram a week worth of practice into the half hour before my lesson.
I have owned a piano for almost six months now and something crazy has happened: I have played it nearly every day. I started with some of the piano lesson books, trying to figure out what level I would be. The lessons didn’t really do it for me, so I picked up a couple fun easy piano books. I’m not great at it. I play at varying speeds. I hit wrong notes. On some songs, I just plain suck.
But I’ve been playing more. I have a book of hymns that I keep flipping through. I play a mean “Jesus Loves Me” and “Blessed Assurance.” I can stumble my way through half a dozen other hymns. Playing them soothes me (though I doubt it would be soothing for a listener.) I used to have a book of Sesame Street songs but lost it sometime around college. I reordered that and also found a book of easy Muppet music.
I’ve been trying to master the Muppet Show theme and “Moving Right Along.” I’m trying to get them up to tempo. I’m realizing the more I play them– and really it’s just 15 minutes in the morning, maybe 10-20 minutes at night– the more my hands hit the right keys without trying. In fact, I sound so much worse on the piano when I do try. Crazy. But my muscles are learning where the keys are. And they’re remembering.
Music saves me at the end of stressful days. Music sets my mind in the right place at the start of my day. Playing great songs, wrong notes and all, has become a spiritual discipline. And it’s amazing how many alternate lyrics we’ve come up with at my house for the Muppet theme. “It’s time to pet a kitty…”
So here’s the update for today: I’m keeping the piano.
I did something a little crazy. I bought an electric piano. I didn’t even know that I wanted a piano until I saw a listing for one on a facebook for sale group. This is the piano that I ended up buying (used and reasonably priced.)
I enjoy plucking out hymn melodies when trying to find songs for the bulletin, but I’m self-conscious about practicing the piano at church, where people can actually hear me play.
So I talked it over with Steve and did some research on different models of pianos and keyboards. This one isn’t super flashy– no bells, whistles, or drums. But it has weighted keys and sounds like an actual piano. It also is portable, which will come in handy next time we have a community ecumenical church service at the old school, where there’s not a piano we can use.
I’ve played the piano every day this week. I can’t help but picture my childhood piano teacher Mrs. Gatrost smiling and I hear her counting in my head. The seller threw in some piano lesson books and I’ve enjoyed figuring out what level I’m at. I’m certainly practicing more and trying harder than I did all through elementary and middle school. The muscle memory is slow to come back but it will, in time. Steve says he doesn’t mind the extra noise. This is the face the orange cat makes when I practice, so I suspect the cats might have a different opinion.
I knew being a pastor would be stressful. I had heard pastors describe the weight of the call and the difficulty in finding a way to unwind. Music helps. It helps me to listen and sing along. It helps me to play and practice. I’m not sure I’ll ever be awesome at piano, but I would love to be able to sight read a few hymns. I’d love to not have a panic attack when I’m heading to a worship service without a piano player, and am told I’ll have to lead singing acapella. Pitch is irrelevant when I sing– something I’ve learned my niece does not particularly enjoy. This is how she listened to us sing happy birthday to her other aunt.
I’m thankful for the chance to unwind a little and I’m especially grateful for my mom who paid for piano lessons all of those years, even when I sort of just gave up on playing. Coincidentally, I think she’s excited, too. When I told her I bought a piano, she said she would dig out some of her sheet music and bring it over so she could play again, too.
I am returning to my blog with an Advent confession: though Advent is a time of preparation and awaiting Christ’s coming, I feel anything but prepared. Not just for Christmas and Jesus things, but for life in general. I find myself perpetually in a state of longing for another fifteen minutes (or day or week or month) to get things done.
I am a slave to a never-ending “to do” list and I hate it.
But the alternative is worse. Without a list, I grow even more disorganized. I am absent-minded. If something isn’t written down in an easily viewable, findable spot, I tend to forget it. I try to coax the chaos into neat little lists. I try to keep the list to 3 most important things.
Do those three things, add three more.
But if I were to honestly write down the list of all of the things, it wouldn’t fit on a post-it note. It might fit on a typed page with tiny font.
How much of what I think I ought to be doing actually needs to be done? How much of what “needs” to be done actually gets done? I won’t pretend to keep statistics. I won’t guess at how meek the percentages of accomplishment would be.
Instead, I will wake up each morning. Fight back against the voice of panic that rises in my heart. And I will try to do the important things, apologizing constantly for the people and places I miss out on.
I don’t want to be busy. I don’t want to show up late. I don’t want to miss out on the good stuff. But good golly, I’m exhausted just looking ahead at the next couple weeks. I long for quiet, calm, silence, solitude. I need to carve out time for that or I’m going to blink and it’ll be January.
Sometimes when my eyes grow bleary from looking at a computer screen or reading little print in a book, my gaze drifts to my open office door. From my desk, I can look through the hallway window and see past the parking lot.
Look past the coffee and the floral sofa…
Just on the edge of the parking lot is a small tree, perfectly framed by the window. When the breeze hits the tree, it sways side to side in a graceful dance. When the wind is particularly strong, the tree nearly bends over, as though bowing.
The sight of the small, joyful tree brings to mind part of Psalm 96:12: “Then shall all the trees of the forest sing for joy before the LORD”
and also Isaiah 55:12: “… and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.”
Can a tree sing? Can a tree clap? Does a tree even have hands? The imagery is powerful and poetic.
Like trying to understand the personification of a tree, the joy of knowing God’s salvation and deliverance can be difficult to explain. Rejoicing can be challenging in the midst of the trouble we face as we continue in the reality of a fallen world with broken relationships and the consequences of sin. We see glimpses of God’s glory in this world, but we remain fully aware that all is not right.
Sometimes the wind is not gentle to the tree branches. Instead of a dance, this young tree looks more like a prize fighter, swerving and ducking when faced with the wind’s persistent blows. The tree still stands, somehow weathering the storms that have brought down other branches in and around the parking lot.
When your eyes grow weary from whatever work lies before you, I pray you might be able to divert your gaze and look to a different part of God’s creation. May we seek rest in God’s promise of salvation and deliverance. May we see a bigger picture as we await the day when the trees of the forest will sing for joy at the return of Christ.
My birthday was yesterday. I turned 37 years old, which seems a little ridiculous. I don’t feel that old and simultaneously, I also feel much older. Anyhoo… here are 37 birthday thoughts, just a day late.
- I get lax on leaving birthday greetings on facebook walls, but then my own birthday hits and I smile at the kindness from all the friends and family.
- On that note… how fun is it to get real mail? Birthday cards are the best!
- A few people sang to me yesterday. That makes me smile.
- Last year, Grandma Benton sang to me on my birthday. It was the only time in my life that I remember hearing her sing.
- Grandma sang off key… way off key. It took a stroke for her to lose the inhibitions and filter that kept her from singing loudly. But it was the most beautiful serenade I have ever received. I miss her.
- This was my first birthday without a grandparent. That’ll age a person quickly.
- I spent my morning at the church, hosting coffee for church and town people who wanted to stop by. IT WAS FUN!
- In the afternoon, I helped the Presbyterian Women take treats for coffee time to a care center and IT WAS FUN!
- I used to think I really liked adolescents and teenagers. I enjoy talking to them and asking all sorts of questions.
- Turns out I just like people. I enjoy talking to most of them, no matter their age.
- I was feeling a little old after asking my husband my age. (Since 30, I’ve never really known my age without stopping to subtract 79 from the year.)
- Then, I talked with Helen. She’s 106. I’m just starting the 2nd 3rd of my life if I live to be 106.
- She said it’s lonely after 100. Most of your friends are gone.
- I asked if she made new friends and a smile spread across her face. “New friends are good, too,” she said.
- We let age become a barrier to friendship too often. I want to have friendships with people in every decade.
- Another woman at the care center asked me if she could talk to me. Would I listen?
- I put on my concerned and attentive pastor face. I expected a deep theological question. I went to seminary for this, right?
- Turns out pastors aren’t just needed for deep theological questions.
- “My roommate snores. How am I supposed to get any sleep? What should I do?” the lady asked.
- Fortunately, I was an RA in college. This is freshman college roommate territory. The circle of life, if you will.
- I suggested she try to go to sleep before her roommate. Or ear plugs.
- Ear plugs are great because you can sleep without anyone disturbing you– roommates, phone notifications, loud and hungry kitty cats…
- Then I thought about all the people walking around with headphones or ear buds, deadening the sounds of life around them. I wonder how many cool moments we miss because of headphones.
- Listening is hard work, but good. I’m going to listen a lot as a 37-year old.
- One of the women I had coffee with was in her eighties. I told her I just wanted to listen to people like her because I wanted to learn stuff.
- “Oh, I know a lot of stuff,” she said. “Some of it I can even remember.”
- Can you imagine in fifty years when people my age are in their 80s? We don’t have to remember much now because we document the important stuff on social media. What if we lose access to pictures and files? What will we remember?
- “Oh, I can google a lot of stuff. Some of it might even be important.’
- I don’t know what to make of 37. I get ordained in three days. The rest of my years, I’ll be a reverend. Best get all the heretical thoughts out of my head now.
- At General Assembly, someone approached me about being part of the young clergy women group. The group’s for women who are ordained before they turn 35. I was already almost too old. “Oh, you don’t seem that old. I’m sorry you can’t be in the group, but you can read our blog.”
- All due respect to young clergy women and men… I want to be in a group with the old clergy women. They know more of the stuff.
- Excluding the gifts from my husband, the best birthday present I received this year was from our neighbor Tom, who sprayed the wasp nest hanging from our house. Can you imagine a better present than a dozen dead wasps and a cool geometrical hive?
- The way wasps build a nest intrigues me.
- The way wasps might chase and sting little nieces visiting this weekend terrifies me, though.
- Steve got me two new place settings of fiestaware and the 37 year old me is giddy about them. That’s old lady glee.
- He also got me a “Fear the Tree” coffee mug and sticker– he kindly tolerates and encourages my obsession with the Stanford Tree. Pray for him.
- What a great birthday. What a great year. What a great life.
(You think this list is long? Can you imagine what Helen’s list of 106 things would be??)