Vulnerabilities

What a day … I didn't like it much, but I think it was good for me. I'm going to write about it even though my first inclination is to shake my head to clear it and find something to keep be busy so I won't think about it but that would sort of defeat the purpose … So, my friends, grab your favorite beverage and here we go:

I see myself as the "strong one", the one who endures, the one others come to for reassurance, support, and encouragement. I like being that person. I don't want to appear vulnerable, in fact, that is one of my biggest fears. In one of my first one-on-one meetings with my CPE supervisor, she asked me to rank how much I dislike letting my vulnerabilities show and I ranked it an 8 on a scale of one to ten. "Wow," she said, "you really don't like it … (a long pause as she crafted her next statement) … Vulnerabilities are a gift in ministry." "How so???" I must have looked at her as if she had two heads and I was so taken aback by what she said I can't even remember now how she answered it. I think I just kind of blew it off as her way of trying to shake me up, which it did, but I wasn't going to admit it at the time (you see, a wise friend told me this was a wiley trick of CPE supervisors and I wasn't going to get sucked in by the game).

Since then, a memory from school keeps coming to my mind ...

The dim lights in the chapel made everyone whisper and even the whispers echoed slightly. The small group of students gathered not in the neat rows of chairs with kneeling rails but on and around the steps leading to the holy table. The pavement candles were lit without ceremony and no one processed in. Sitting on the floor looking up at the ceiling in the low light, the image of the beams representing a ship's keel came to me. I'd felt as if there had been a storm building up in me for a couple of days and I was feeling tossed about. I closed my eyes and sucked in the slow, deep breath that always helps me to grip the helm tighter to keep control in rough waters. The piano and guitar played softly as the Order for Compline began. "The Lord grant us a peaceful night and a perfect end. Amen." I love those words. "Our help is in the name of the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth." Compline is my favorite service. I find tremendous peace in it. This night, however, I was finding it difficult to speak the words out loud; my voice didn't want to cooperate. I knew I could count on the musicians to just play as long as I let them in the places we replaced spoken words with songs. At the end of the first song, the tears were stinging my eyes, like seawater blown over the bow. I blinked them back and took a breath. "Into your hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit; For you have redeemed me, O Lord, O God of Truth; Keep us, O Lord, as the apple of your eye; Hide us in the shadow of your wings." My voice was breaking. A friend sitting next to me slid closer and put her arm around my shoulders. I blinked harder. "Lord have mercy; Christ have mercy; Lord have mercy," and then the musicians started Lord's Prayer. I put my head on my knees and willed myself into control. As the prayer concluded I slid the leader's book to my friend and she continued the service, "Lord hear our prayer; And let our cry come to you … "

I couldn't control it any longer, the waves crashed over the side of my boat and I couldn't stop them. Those around me continued with the service as they all slid over to surround me and touch me wherever they could fit and reach. My rational being, the one I normally let steer the ship, was yelling "mutiny" as the emotional being took the wheel and turned head on into the storm. I found enough voice to say my favorite words of the service "Guide us waking, O Lord, and guard us sleeping, that awake we may watch with Christ and asleep we may rest in peace." I felt a strength begin to grow inside me. As the service ended, no one left. They just circled me tighter letting me ride out my storm without words. When my tears stopped and I raised my head, still no one asked anything. We just all stood, extinguished candles, gathered up service books, turned out lights, locked the chapel door, and walked to our rooms. As we got to the hall of the women's floor, one of the other ladies finally spoke to me and she said something like, "I'm so happy to see you cry. It lets me know you are human just like the rest of us and that I can trust you. Thank you." Her "thank you" has echoed in my mind ever since.

Perhaps this is the gift that my CPE supervisor was speaking of …

And, as for what made today so tough and brought this to the surface again … well, I was sharing about a conversation I had with a patient who was going in for open heart surgery and he was telling me that he longed for the glory of the life he knew he would have in heaven. As I was telling the story, the emotional storm began to spill over the edge of my ship. My supervisor and fellow CPE students encouraged me to let the tears flow and I fought it with all my might. The deck got a little wet, but I held on to the helm and steered away from the worst of the storm. It would have been a safe place to ride out the waves but I couldn't do it.

In a quiet conversation after with one of the other students, I boiled it down to this: There is a difference between being vulnerable and letting my vulnerabilities show in a safe, trusting environment. Now I just have to come to accept and believe it.

Uncomfortableness (or CPE #2)

Okay so that's really not a word but it says so much … it describes my state of being this past week and using it helps me with accepting those things that make me uncomfortable, like made up words (minor in the overall scheme of things, I know, but a pet peeve nonetheless).

Are you ready for some honest, personal reflection? That is, after all, one of the main things I'm supposed to be getting out of my CPE experience. A nice beverage of choice might make it a little easier. Since it's a Saturday morning, I'm currently settling for coffee …

Some people don't mind confronting those things that make them uncomfortable; some people avoid those things that make them uncomfortable; some people react with panic, fear, anger, self-righteousness, or indignation. I usually start with the avoidance technique and if that doesn't work, I follow through with any combination of the emotions listed. Hard to admit, but true.

This past week, we read some information on a personality assessment called the Enneagram. I'd never heard of it before but apparently I'm part of the minority (I live with the fact that I'm out of touch and usually years behind – didn't even know what my Myers-Briggs was until this past term – I think I was the last one on the planet…). My first thought on personality typing is that I don't put a lot of stock into them. I find them interesting and thought provoking but I don't like being put in a slot and I don't want to fall into the trap of blaming my bad or unhealthy behaviors on a definition of my personality (my CPE supervisor would be so happy to see me personalizing that instead of lumping the human race into the royal we). Besides, how do I know which ones are valid and which are not. I mean really, have you looked at how many variations there are on Facebook? According to FB, I'm Big Bird, Marcy (from Peanuts), Calvin Coolidge, Green, Kermit the Frog, and Light. According to past ones I've taken through various team-building activities at my jobs, I'm a dove and an otter. On a more serious note, Myers-Briggs says I'm an ENFJ (not even anything cute or fun, just a list of letters). So, now, according to the Enneagram, I'm a 2 (not even my favorite number).

This past Tuesday in Reading Seminar, we discussed our first reading on the Enneagram. I wasn't very positive about it and butted heads with my supervisor. She puts a lot of stock in the Enneagram – lives and breathes it, analyzes everyone she is in relationship with using it and I hear her saying things like "I can't help it, I'm a 7". After the seminar, I was a bit perplexed as to why it irritated me so and it bothered me all day. When I got home, I was discussing it with a friend and she was able to voice what I hadn't been able to put my finger on. Where is God in all of this? That is what was bothering me. If I accept all of my behavior, as it is, because a personality test tells me I do these things because I'm a specific type that takes away the transformational aspect of my relationship with God. Of course, with my usual lack of self-confidence in voicing things theological, I wasn't quite sure of how I was going to explain this in next week's Reading Seminar but I began to pray about being more open to learning about the Enneagram and its possibilities.

Earlier today, I was doing some reading for the Spiritual Formation for Ministry class I'm taking in August and guess what came up? You guessed it – Enneagrams. And did I mention that I walked into my favorite bookstore last week and what did they have on display at the front counter? Yep – several books on Enneagrams (please, to make me feel better, someone please tell me you haven't heard of them before this …). But in the book I was reading, The Gift of Being Yourself by David Benner, the Enneagram is presented as a tool for spiritual transformation. Benner describes the Enneagram as a way to look deep inside ourselves and identify those sinful tendencies which we would rather bury or ignore but which, until we confront it as part of who we are, will prevent us from accepting and knowing ourselves "as we are accepted and known by God" (Benner, 72). "It is in the depth of your self that God waits to meet you with transforming love" (73). It's a short book and well worth the read for anyone looking to begin the journey of self-discovery as a starting point for spiritual transformation.

I still feel an uncomfortableness about looking so deeply into myself but I think I'll try strategy number one and confront it … at least until I start to panic …

God's peace, my friends!

CPE Entry #1

Well, I've survived almost three weeks of CPE … the first week and a half were mostly orientation and getting what we need to do whatever it is we are supposed to be doing (computer access, keys, badges, phones, etc.). We just started seeing patients this week but with all of the class and group work we do, there isn't a lot of time to visit with the patients (in all honesty I'm mixed with disappointment and relief over this). I'm beginning to discover (and those of you that told me this you know how thick headed I can be …) that the most important thing about CPE is self-discovery. The patient visits, although good for the patients and the vast majority appreciate and are grateful for the time we do spend with them, are just another tool to help us bring out those things which will help us and those things which will get in our way in our ministry.

One of the things we have to do each week is to prepare a "verbatim" in which we write out, word-for-word as closely as we can remember, a significant conversation with a patient. We then analyze the conversation from the patient's point of view and our point of view and look at the theology of the visit, answering "where was God in this encounter". I handed in my first verbatim today, the patient was one of my very first visits and I was very nervous – you see we have to do a "spiritual assessment" on all newly admitted patients and there is specific information we are to get from the patient to complete the form in their patient records such as "what type of relationship does the patient have with God", "Has the patient be wounded by the church", and "How does the patient view God", but we are supposed to do this in a conversational way rather than from a checklist of questions. So, I had a copy of the questions in my notebook discretely placed where I could see them and make it look like I'm looking at the patient information slip that brought me to this patient in the first place (sneaky, huh?). What made this particular visit significant was that the patient was a Baptist minister … of course I didn't know that as I walked in the room and introduced myself with as much confidence as I had been able to muster in the short walk from the chaplain office to the ward.

What I discovered as I wrote out the conversation we had was that he was able to minister to me in seeing and acknowledging my nervousness and yet I was still able to do him some good, too. He had been hoping that a chaplain would come see him because as he put it: "whenever I visit a church I make sure I introduce myself to the minister first thing since I'm in their house." Within my first two or three sentences, he picked up on my nervousness and asked me, ever so sweetly, why. When I told him I was new, he smiled with a smile as big as all of Texas and reached for my hand and began to share with me his story into the ministry. He was all but tied down to the bed with cords and tubes, but he was as animated as his circumstances would allow. He was so filled with joy at sharing with me I forgot all about my list of questions and just let him talk, which he did for almost half an hour. He finally ended by telling me that he could see the Spirit in me and to trust that God would equip me for his ministry so I didn't need to worry. Then he asked me to pray for him. As I thanked God for our visit and asked for continued healing for him and guidance and wisdom for his doctors and nurses, he punctuated my prayer with loud "ALLELUIA"s and "AMEN"s. We both had tears in our eyes when I finished.

Immediately after the visit, all I could focus on was the draining of my self-confidence when he told me he was a minister. The next day, as I began to write it out, I could see what an amazing encounter it turned out to be. God worked through this to give me the boost I needed to begin to claim the permission to be a chaplain – equipping me for his ministry (I'm sure, though, knowing me, I'll still worry about it a little).

God is faithful and good.

Time

People always say the older you get the faster time goes by, and I have to say I'm in total agreement with that. Today, my son and I went through things in my storage unit to get what he needed to set up house in his very first apartment … when did he get to be old enough to live on his own? I mean, I know he's twenty and I know that's not really as grown up as he thinks he is (or any of us thought when we were 20) but I think I'll always picture him as 4 or 5 years old, running around in shorts and cowboy boots. It seems just yesterday.

Yet, among these same memories running amok in my head today, I thought of the events that surrounded putting all of my household goods in storage in preparation for school … and it was hard to slide open that door as step back into the events that clouded what was supposed to be an exciting and joyous time. So far, in this blog, I've never talked about any of it, just parleyed about how I came to be going to seminary and various events of my first year. But, it's on my mind today, and I think I need to put it into words a bit.

The people that where with me through this time know the details and I don't have to put the events into words for you and I'm grateful that you can know without words. When I got to school, I was surrounded by folks who didn't know and I had to learn to frame it in words and I found it to be tremendously healing – putting emotions and memories into words helps me own them instead of my emotions and memories owning me, and, again, I'm grateful to these new friends who patiently let me find the words I needed. The event, the death of my husband in the middle of plans to go to seminary, seems at the same time both far removed by time because I have changed so much since it happened and yet immediate when things trigger my memory unexpectedly. I wonder how can time seem two ways at once? I play back that day and I can see the people around me moving in slow motion and at the same time there are great holes in the events so that it seems time jumped forward and I missed things.

Time is a peculiar thing, and I don't think I can fully grasp what it is or how it works beyond being able to describe how a clock tells us what time it is. I put it in the category of awesome things that I won't truly grasp "on this side of the grave". One of my favorite things to do in church is when we are all reciting the Lord's Prayer or the Nicene Creed, I like to close my eyes and listen to the sound of all of our voices rising in unison with the same words, the same words that have been lifted up to God for hundreds and hundreds of years and will be lifted up for years to come. C. S. Lewis, in Mere Christianity, talks about time, God's time, and how God doesn't see time as we do – he sees all time at once with no past, present, or future and I like to think that the chorus of faithful voices is continuous to God, that he hears my voice with that of the apostles and those of my great-great-great-great grandchildren. It boggles my mind.

When days seem to fly by too fast for me to accomplish everything, when some drag on so that I think I'll never survive them, when memories fill my thoughts so that I am pulled to times past and anxious thoughts try to drag me into the future, I try to remind myself that time is not mine it is God's. My responsibility is to spend the ticks of the clock trying to be who God needs me to be in each and every moment.

So, in this moment, I am coming to terms with my son growing up and I can say that I am proud and thankful that he is who he is and know that as time moves forward he will continue to develop into the person God needs him to be. I'll spend some time picturing the infant, the toddler, the little boy, and the teenager and I'll send him off with a prayer for protection and guidance and hope the time until I see him again goes quickly. Tick tock, tick tock.

God's peace, my friends,

Nancy

Words

Well, the first year of seminary has come and gone … I've been trying to put together in my mind just how to express what all I've experienced since September but words fail me. (That happens now and again.) I know I've changed, but I can't exactly explain just how. My view of scripture has deepened, I have a better understanding of church history and how that history affects how the church is viewed and operates today, I've learned lots of new theological words, I've grown spiritually, I've developed some wonderful relationships, and I'm more confident than ever that I'm doing what God has called me to do. What I've learned most of all, though, is just how important words are.

The Bible is the Word of God, breathed and inspired to show us how God used some broken, rag-tag humans, who he created to be in relationship with him and blessed with the awesome gift of free-will, to further his purpose within his creation. God's own words breathed us and all of creation into being. Jesus is God's Word incarnate, come into this world to redeem all humans and restore a right relationship with God.

As humans, words are how we convey meaning to each other through our languages. We speak and write our narratives to preserve what we experience in God's creation. We communicate with each other and with God through our words. Our words can build relationships and bring peace and, without our knowing it or without our intending it to be so, they can damage relationships and bring heart ache. Words can heal and words can harm.


As a student, my professors use words to convey their thoughts and ideas to me and they use my words, spoken and written, to judge how well I've learned what they attempted to teach. My fellow students and I use words to explore what we are learning, by reading other's written words, in conversations with spoken words, and in our papers with our own written words. Beyond the classroom, we express our thoughts and emotions to each other through words. We determine who is being authentic with us, and who is not, by the words they use. We decide who we can trust, and who we cannot, by weighing one person's words against another's. Sometimes we are not aware of the totality of the message of our own words until we see, through another person's actions, their interpretation of our words. Sometimes we can correct the meaning, and sometimes not.

I have always loved the study of words – just ask my classmates how excited I get over looking up the history of a word in the OED (this was after all what my senior paper was on for my undergrad). As a writer, I know the importance of choosing the right words to convey accurate meaning. As a person in relationship with others, I try to weigh my spoken word as carefully as possible, trying to think of the many possible interpretations (and not always getting this part right). In prayer and conversation with God, I know that no matter what words I choose, he knows my heart even better than I and sometimes, just sitting in silence acknowledging his awesome presence is the best thing to do. And, sometimes, when I honestly and authentically do this, I hear his words as clear as day.

One of the most important experiences I have had over this first year as school is learning to put my story into words for people who have no knowledge of my background. The good parts are easy to talk about, easy to find words for. The personal tragedies, on the other hand, have been a challenge. I have had to learn to frame in words the experiences of the previous year because I was with people who didn't know what had happened and I found this process, although excruciatingly difficult, incredibly healing. To put emotions into words is to take control of my emotions so that the emotions are no longer in control of me. It's been amazing, a trite word, I know, but the best I can come up with for now.

I started this blog to convey to those who are interested in my journey through seminary what I'm experiencing and I have to admit I haven't done a very good job of it. So, I'm going to try a different approach to these words. This summer, I'm going to be doing an internship (officially called Clinical Pastoral Education, or CPE) at a VA hospital. Basically, I'll be working as a chaplain-in-training. From what others have told me (yep, through their own words describing their experiences) it is an emotionally heavy experience. I'm going to attempt to journal my way through it with entries most every day. (And, yes, I carefully chose the words "most every day" to give myself an out if I miss a day here and there – the power of words is great, isn't it!)


And, now, for words that I don't think I can ever say enough because they just don't seem to convey the depth of my true feelings – thank you all for your interest in my simple story. Knowing that you care and that you support me in your words of encouragement and words of prayer mean more than I will ever be able to fully express.

God's peace be with you, my friends.

Nancy

Wrestling with God

(This is a long one, folks, grab a cup of tea, coffee, beer, wine or whatever your reading beverage of choice is, before you begin … I'll wait for you to get back …)

I have this friend whom I've known longer than any friend I'm currently in contact with. I first remember her from first grade, but we lived on the same block (different streets) so I wonder if we somehow met in the neighborhood before that and were just too young to remember … anyway, I'm telling you this as part of the introduction to this post because she is the cause for the topic here. Our families each moved away from that neighborhood at different times in elementary school and we tried to keep in touch (back in the day when snail mail was the only option) and did, off and on, through our high school years. We saw each other right after we both graduated and then lost track. A little over a year ago, I think, we found each other on Facebook and it was a joyous reunion.

My friend always posts the most amazing quotes in her status. She must read continuously and I'm not sure how she does it while raising 5 great kids! She is a true inspiration to me. She recently posted a quote that sparked quite a debate on her wall and it really got me to thinking and I wanted to share a bit of the thread and get your thoughts.

The quote is from Miguel de Unamuno, someone I'd never heard of before but after this I'm definitely going to read the book the quote is from.

"Those who believe that they believe in God, but without passion in their hearts, without anguish in mind, without uncertainty, without doubt, without an element of despair even in their consolation, believe only in the God idea, not in God Himself." ~Miguel de Unamuno, Tragic Sense of Life, 213

In reply to this quote, my friend received a wide gamut of responses, ranging from the angry to the encouraging. I'll walk you through a select few (copied straight from her wall, with names x'd out, just as they were written):

Some that agreed with the quote:

• Great quote. It resonates with me deeply. This quote has little to do with a lack of faith, far from it. "I believe, help me with my unbelief."I personally believe that faith is directly inverse to your deepest doubt. That it is through doubt that are faith is fleshed out.
  

Some that expanded on others:

• I would go further: believers who imagine their beliefs about God are somehow closer to Truth than those of others need to realize that ANY concept of God is just that, a concept, infinitely smaller than the True Truth God. None of us has the complete picture; that thought should keep us humble...
  

Some that took the opportunity to voice their own opinion of God:

• If there is a "God," and it's purely and solely male, I want no part of that, thank you very much. If I was supposed to be made in "God's" image, then God is a fiesty, questioning, doubting, anguishing, feminist, mulit-layered being who savors variety and adores mysticism...not just a Christian who takes some old book, written centuries ago, literally. Although, that could certainly be part of it.
  

Some that were a bit harsh:

• ridiculous! believeing in God is about FAITH. the bible tells us..."blessed is he who believes yet does not see." why do you keep doing this, xxxx? when is enough going to enough for you? you pretend to understand someone whom you don't even believe exists.
  

Some that tried to explain and perhaps ease the tension:

• The point of the posts is to get us to think and to learn from each other. If you disagree with the quoted person's thoughts on this subject, she wants to hear why you disagree. She may or may not end up agreeing with your position, but she wants to hear it.
  

Some that questioned other responses:

• Aren't Christians supposed to reflect Christ in their words and actions??? Being judgmental, whether through words of ridicule or by an attitude of intolerance - especially to those seeking answers or guidance, fail to reflect the Christ I know, trust, and love. Peace and love to all.
  

Some that were defended a Christian view of the quote:

• As a born again christian, i understand the "strongly indoctrinated" views being expressed here by some. i grew up in church, and had my parents beliefs pushed on me by them and their organization from childhood. but none of that aided in my quest to find god and build up a personal and real friendship with him. it was my questioning and searching and finding out for myself through prayer and reading the bible and asking questions. i doubted for a while, and it bothered me. but even since i have found myself, and my beliefs have grown and matured, i still sometimes catch myself questioning things. certain things that i have come to believe and trust in can provoke questions and unneasiness, but that doesn't mean than im not a christian or that im trying to discredit the bible. it just means that i am human, and that i make mistakes and before i can fully understand what it is that i believe, there are going to be human thought and emotions to climb over. im done. also, i just have to put this out there because it irritates me when "christians" are so condemning and judgemental, that they don't even see the mistakes that they are making themselves.
  

In total, there were over 30 responses to the post. Now, I'm not one who likes confrontation. I enjoy sharing my beliefs and hearing those of others, but as soon as anyone takes on the tone of a debate in which one of us has to be right and one has to be wrong, I clam up (on any topic, not just about beliefs). But on this occasion, I felt lead to respond and so I did …

• I rarely (if ever) chime in on xxxx's inspiring and thought provoking posts but I'm going to step out of my comfort zone and put in my 2 cents worth. I watch xxxx's posts and read them all with enthusiasm. The questions raised and comments made are wonderful! I'm blessed to be a witness to xxxx's journey and am inspired that she has the courage to seek out what she wants to discover. I believe that all humans seek God, our Creator. If not, this whole idea of religious beliefs wouldn't have lasted since the dawn of time. Every civilization has sought some way to wrap their human heads around the awesomeness of the creation of the universe around us. God did create humans in his image and because of that I believe there is an innate desire in each of us to find him. Even those who have never heard of or turn away from Christianity continue to seek some sort of spiritual fulfillment. Those of us who are Christians also continue to seek him each and every day. Just because one claims to be a Christian doesn't mean that seeking is over. Belief is not a stagnant thing; grounded, yes, stagnant, no. But being created "in his image" doesn't mean that the personalities and traits we posses as God's created are God's personalities and traits. That is creating God in our image. God created humans to carry forward his purpose for his creation, not as mindless robots doing things according to a good behavior/bad behavior check list, but as thinking, reasoning creatures with freewill who can choose to love (or not) our creator because he created us, a creator that is beyond our imagination and understanding. I truly believe that God wants us to continuously seek and question and wrestle with him. Keep wrestling, xxxx!
  

Like my friend, I'm left to wonder "why some feel threatened by this path," which made me think of a quote from another friend and mentor (you know who you are) "God comforts the afflicted and afflicts the comfortable."

The whole thing is very timely for me in light of the discussions going on in my Leading Missional Congregations class that I mentioned in my previous post. How is the Church* supposed to reach those who are unchurched* or dechurched* if we can't respect the various paths that people are currently on? I stopped going to church in my early adult years partly for this very reason. Instead of trying to help others find answers to questions, we lead them to believe that wrestling with our belief is dangerous and a threat. Why should we expect them to listen to us if we won't listen to them? If we are strong in our faith, why would feel threatened to hear about what others believe? So perhaps this is the beginning of me figuring out how I'm to lead a parish some day in a time when going to church is becoming something we do rather than living our lives as the Church*.

[*A few definitions: I use Church with a capital "C" to mean the body of Christ made up of all believers; little "c" church is a specific place, denomination, or building; unchurched are those who've never been to church (except perhaps for the occasional wedding and funeral); dechurched are those who either grew up in a church or spent time attending a church and for one reason or another stopped going.]

What do you think about all of this? What do you think of the quote, what do you think of the idea of continuously "wrestling" with one's faith? Why do you think some people jump on the defensive when it comes to talking about their faith?

Three Weeks in …

Well, it's three weeks into the winter term and this is my first blog post; so much for staying on top of things …

I had a very nice, and all too short, Christmas break. I got to spend precious time with my family and some very dear friends. I flew back to school the night before classes started and I've been at a dead run ever since. I guess I should have clued in when I had to buy 13 books for 4 classes!

I've been in a very reflective mood since I've been back (for those few moments when I've had the freedom to let my thoughts go where they may). I've been thinking about how I see myself and the various roles that I have in my life. I'm learning a new role but all of my other roles are a part of this new one, too. I was sitting with my advisor going over my annual review (I know I've only been here 4 months, but we do these "annual" reviews every January) and I had written something about how I might possibly be able to using my "skills as a trainer" and in another section of the review I discussed my newly discovered passion for catechism and he said, (I think I've mentioned his sarcasm before) "do you think those two things might go together?" And to be honest, I hadn't really put them together until then … another one of my "I'm a little slow on the uptake" moments.

When we got back for this term, we were all anxiously awaiting our marks (Canadian for "grades") from last term; they weren't posted until the end of the first week. I've been a little perplexed with the grading scale and it took some getting used to. It goes like this: anything below 70 is failing; 70-79 is a B, 80-84 an A-, 85-90 an A, and 90-100 an A+. A's of any flavor are tough and no one I've talked to has gotten over an 87 on anything. The average among my "gang" is 78-79 I think. I'm happy with my marks and I did manage (barely) to make my personal goal of marks high enough to qualify for the honors program. I know that some of you reading this have told me that grades don't really matter and I believe you. So I've done some serious soul searching as to why this grade thing is so important to me – is it pride, do I feel like I have something to prove, what? Here's what I've come up with: I simply want to use my God-given skills and talents the best I possibly can in my new role, currently as a seminarian and later as a priest. After all, he entrusted these skills and talents to me and I need to be a good steward of them.

In one of my classes this term, we've been talking about the decline of the church and what are all of the many possible causes and what, as priests going into this shaky future, can we do? There is much unknown ahead of us. But, I will press forward with the understanding that I can draw on the experience all of the roles I've had in my life, past and present, and use all of my skills and talents to do the little part God has given me to do in furthering his mission amidst his creation.

God's Peace,

Nancy