2010: A Summary

What a year... Whew... I'm happily exhausted just thinking about it. Let's review, shall we?

January 
Daryl flies back to Nashville to resume coursework. This marks our 5th month of living apart since September.  Boo.

I fly back to New Jersey to start my final semester of classes at Princeton Seminary.

I start rehearsals for "A Caucasian Chalk Circle," the spring seminary play where I am cast as (yay!) Grusha, the resourceful peasant mother. One of my best friends is cast as Natella, the evil villainess, and we enjoy verbal sparring on our rides to and from practice.

February
I watch my friend Jinelle skate to Olympic silver with the U.S. Women's Hockey Team. Since the seminary doesn't get the channel, we watch from a nearby Mexican restaurant...

Daryl and I celebrate Valentine's Day apart by cooking the same meal and having a Skype dinner date. Not the real in-person thing, but still pretty good.

After noticing that there are few church jobs in the Nashville area, I apply to the Nashville CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education) partnership as a chaplain. I anxiously await word back.

March
We welcomed our new niece, Sophia Joy, into the family! She was, and still remains, the cutest baby EVER. (Besides our other niece, Aleah, of course!)

I have my final review at the Presbytery of Chicago where they officially certify me as ready for ordination in the PC(USA)!

Daryl and I travel (together!) to California for spring break where we visit his family and lots of friends. We also eat at In n' Out Burger about nine times. In one week. Yum.

I hear back that the Nashville CPE partnership would like to interview me. I interview, and a couple of weeks later in...

April
...I hear back that I've been accepted as a chaplain resident at Alive Hospice in Nashville. Daryl and I both breathe a sigh of vocational and financial relief.

I performed in "A Caucasian Chalk Circle" at the seminary. After performance #1 I lost my voice for several anxious hours. Lots of tea with lemon (prescribed by the director), lots of prayer (my addition), and it came back by showtime the following night. Phew.

May
Daryl and I slogged through finals and were rewarded at the end... with one another. The long-distance marriage was over! Hooray!

My parents treated us to a cruise to Mexico. All the gluten free food I could eat, delicious sun, and lots of napping. It was A-MAZ-ING.

We returned to Princeton for my graduation! All done, seminary!

We packed up all of our belongings, and with the help of my parents, loaded them into a storage POD that was sent to await our arrival in Nashville.

June
We headed north to Wisconsin to spend much of the summer with my family resting, reading, and relaxing. A wonderful  reward after nine months living apart from one another, three years of seminary, three part-time jobs, and a whole lot else...

July
We trekked to Nashville to pick out a new home and found the townhouse of our dreams. Less than two miles from Vanderbilt for Daryl, less than two miles from the hospital where I'd be working, and within our price range. We signed the lease the very next day.

August
We travel to Michigan for a week-long family reunion with my dad's side of the family. There are games. There is food. It is awesome.

We move in  to our new home in Nashville, after waving goodbye to our wonderful family in Wisconsin. After hauling in box after box in 105 degree heat, we both agree: this is the LAST move we are ever doing ourselves. Next time (which we think will be years and years down the road), we're hiring movers.

I begin work at Alive Hospice on my birthday, August 30th. Lots of orientation, lots of preparation, lots of great people.

September
Daryl begins his second and final year of coursework at Vanderbilt.

We travel to Asheville, NC with some dear friends to visit Posana's Cafe, an all-gluten free restaurant. It is worth every mile.

We head back to Wisconsin to watch two other dear friends tie the knot in an outdoor ceremony on a beautiful lake. Then we dance all night.

Daryl travels to Oxford to deliver a paper at a conference. He visits all of our old haunts, even eating one of "Ben's Cookies" for me at the covered market.

I receive a semi-cryptic email from a church in Wisconsin asking me if I'd be willing to move to Wisconsin... I respond in the affirmative... They interview me over Skype and we immediately hit it off.

October
The church flies me up for a weekend interview. It goes wonderfully, and at the end of the weekend they extend the call to me! Daryl and I take a week to pray about it and feel nothing but confirmation. I call them back with the news - it's official (though not yet Facebook-public, as I still need to be examined by the Presbytery)!

Daryl's dad and step-mom visit, and we hit up the Frist Museum and the best Predator's game of the year.

My mom and dad visit and we visit an outdoor Chihuly exhibit and explore Nashville and Dad teaches me to make the best gluten free cookies ever.

November
I meet with the PC(USA)'s Company of New Pastors at their conference in Nashville. We spend hours talking and learning about prayer and how to incorporate Scripture into worship in different ways.

We eat the world's best Thanksgiving dinner with some dear (and gluten free!) friends in Nashville. I can still taste that cornbread stuffing.

Friends from Michigan come to visit us and we play board games for hours and hours.

I finish my final day of CPE and say goodbye to some wonderful patients, staff, and fellow chaplains.

Daryl surprises me with tickets to a Ben Folds concert after my last day of work. I sit, enraptured, listening to one of my favorites perform.

I fly up to the Wisconsin for the congregational vote and Presbytery examination. Both go well and now it is officially official - in January I will start my tenure as pastor of 1st Presbyterian!

December
Daryl finishes his coursework after a grueling two weeks of final exams. Cough drops, coffee, and meals I cook and set in front of him get him through.

Back to Eagle River, Wisconsin for a white Christmas at home with my family. Restful, fun, and full of delicious food.

Down to Nashville to pack up a few suitcases and await the arrival of movers who will take all of our worldly goods north to Wisconsin where we will move into the church's historic and very beautiful manse (parsonage).

Which brings us to New Year's Eve, where we'll say goodbye to Nashville and ring in the new year with some dear friends and a pile of gluten free goodies.

Whew... What a 2010! What will 2011 bring? I can hardly wait to find out... New Year's plans coming soon!

My Sister, the Photographer

My little sister is ridiculously talented. She makes wedding cakes that look like they're straight out of TLC's Cake Boss (see an example here). She gave us a framed abstract block print for Christmas that is so gorgeous I cannot wait to hang it in my office ("Is that Mondrian?" "No, it's an authentic Caroline!"). And the girl takes amazing photos.

As part of our Christmas present she gave Daryl and I a photo shoot and then touched up the pictures, adding color, changing the effects, and just generally making us look way better than we do in real life. Knowing that we'll be apart (again! baahhh....) for the next several months, she wanted each of us to have a picture to put on our desks.

The really crazy thing? This photo shoot took maybe twenty minutes. We bundled up, drove half a mile from my parents' house to a frozen lake, and she shot away. The result? Awesomeness. I wish I had one iota of her artistic skill, but I'm happy to just have her in the family. What a Christmas present!

 

She's one January-term course away from being a college grad, so if you need some photos, you know who to call... I'm sure I can get you a discount. ;)

Update

It has been too long.

I'm sorry, friends. This past month has been an absolute whirlwind, and there were things I couldn't post about on here until they were sure things, which now they are.

I'll write more in depth later, and post some great photos, but for now, the summary is this:

I've accepted a call as a Presbyterian minister at a church in southern Wisconsin! I start January 9th, and my ordination service will be January 30th.

Daryl and I will be moving our belongings from Nashville next week, and he will return here to finish his coursework for the final semester of his PhD. He'll join me up north in May.

Wonderful blessings. I'm moving back to Wisconsin, my home state, to a beautiful, vibrant church. I'll be close to family once again. I'll live in a landscape that feeds my soul, full of trees and prairies and snow and summer grasses. I'll have the chance to pursue the vocation I've been training for over the past several years, and the one I've felt called to since college. I'll be close to dozens of friends and family in Illinois, Minnesota, Michigan, Iowa, and Wisconsin.

All changes come with a tinge of sadness too, of course. This means more time away from Daryl. It meant I had to end my CPE program early. It means leaving Nashville--a city I love--and my Nashville friends who have become like family.

More to come about the job, Christmas, the death-flu that my whole family came down with over the holidays (eeesh...), our favorite new holiday board game, the best book I've read in quite awhile, and just general Christmas joy.

I'm back. Updates to come.

The Impressionists

My mom loves the impressionists. We grew up with prints of Degas and Monet on our walls. She is partial to ballerinas and haystacks.

I've never really liked the impressionists. I have a pretty eclectic taste in art, but the impressionists have never been high on my list. They're too sunny. Too full of flowers and haystacks (sorry, Mom). Too blurry and pastel. I like photographs, bright colors, abstract art, modern art, and sculpture. I love paintings with a Christian story, provided they're not Thomas Kinkade. I will drive miles out of my way to see a Rembrandt, Chagall, El Greco, or Mondrian.

Anyway, this weekend Daryl's dad and step-mom were in town, and they treated us to a variety of wonderful activities. On our Saturdays alone in town (all three of them since August...) we tend to do exactly nothing. We're exhausted. Daryl watches a little college football. I bake some bread for the week ahead. We putter around the house, do some laundry, harass the cats.

When people are in town we do things. This is a good thing for us. We get out and about, we explore Nashville, we find new things and are inspired by old ones. This Saturday Tad and Deborah took us to see the impressionist exhibit at the Frist Museum.

I was excited to go. I like museums, even if I don't love impressionist art. At least, I didn't love it. This exhibit taught me to fall in love, and I wanted to share some of the awesomeness with you.

Edgar Degas:

It was that ballerina in the bottom-right corner that I really fell in love with. She is exhausted. But she isn't giving up. The shoes are still on.

Gustave Dore:

The riddle of war - the woman of France questioning the Sphinx about the French Revolution with an epic landscape in the background. Independence Day has nothing on this disaster. Daryl loved this one, too, though we both agreed it's a little bit dark and death-y to put on the wall...

Edouard Manet:

 

Paul Cezanne:

Photos borrowed from: www2.bc.edu, http://media-2.web.britannica.com/eb-media/26/8926-004-CA37FB0D.jpg, http://christophervolpe.blogspot.com/, http://www.rebeccanemser.com/wp-content/uploads/1991/07/BERTHE-MORISTON-1872-BY-Manet.jpg, http://www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/manet/fifre/manet.fifre-2.jpg, http://madamepickwickartblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/Cezanne1.jpg. Also, if you're in Nashville, you should really go see these in person. The Internet hardly does them any justice. Fo' real.

Sunday Poems - W.H. Auden

No, it's not Sunday. Yes, life is a little bit crazy right now with on-call shifts, final CPE evaluations to write, and a whole bunch of other good but busy-making stuff. So here's a poem. Because it is dear to my heart, and so are you.

"As I Walked Out One Evening"

As I walked out one evening,
    Walking down Bristol Street,
The crowds upon the pavement
    Were fields of harvest wheat.

And down by the brimming river
    I heard a lover sing
Under an arch of the railway:
    "Love has no ending.

"I'll love you, dear, I'll love you
    Till China and Afica meet,
And the river jumps over the mountain
    And the salmon sing in the street.

"I'll love you till the ocean
    Is folded and hung up to dry
And the seven stars go squawking
    Like geese about the sky.

"The years shall run like rabbits,
    For in my arms I hold
The Flower of the Ages,
    And the first love of the world."

But all the clocks in the city
    Began to whirr and chime:
"O let not Time deceive you
    You cannot conquer Time.

"In the burrows of the Nightmare
    Where Justice naked is,
Time watches from the shadow
    And coughs when you would kiss.

"In headaches and in worry
    Vaguely life leaks away,
And time will have his fancy
    To-morrow or to-day.

"Into many a green valley
    Drifts the appalling snow
Time breaks the threaded dances
    And the diver's brilliant bow.

"O plunge your hands in water
    Plunge them up to the wrist;
Stare, stare in the basin
    And wonder what you've missed."

"The glacier knocks in the cupboard,
    The desert sighs in the bed,
And the crack in the tea-cup opens
    A lane to the land of the dead.

"Where the beggars raffle the banknotes
    And the Giant is enchanting to Jack,
And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer
    And Jill goes down on her back."

"O look, look in the mirror,
    O look in your distress;
Life remains a blessing
    Although you cannot bless."

"O stand, stand at the window
    As the tears scald and start;
You shall love your crooked neighbor
    With your crooked heart."

It was late, late in the evening
    The lovers they were gone;
The clocks had ceased their chiming,
    And the deep river ran on.

--W.H. Auden

Ten on Tuesday: Hospice Edition

Changes are afoot in my life, but for the next few weeks, I'm still working as a hospice chaplain. It's important work, work I both believe in and enjoy. It's also exhausting work. It's sad watching people's bodies shut down, their families grieve. Death isn't a pretty thing.

I've had to learn what helps me pick myself back up after a difficult day. This isn't just a list of happy things, it's a list of ten things that help me process, grieve, and let go of patients I've lost, families I've cried with, and pain I've witnessed. It all has to go somewhere, and it's best if that somewhere isn't permanently on my shoulders.

I think knowing these things about myself will bode well for a life of ministry, and using them for a "Ten on Tuesday" gives me the opportunity to ask: what picks you up after a difficult day? Share!

10. Phone calls with friends.
My good friend Katie called me during my lunch break a couple of weeks ago. "Courtney!" she chirped in that exceedingly extroverted way she has. "I need to talk to you!" What freedom to be able to call a friend mid-day, after work, on the weekend, to say, "Gosh, this was hard for me. What should I do? Will you pray for me?"

9. Puzzles.
I process while doing puzzles. It gives me a way to decompress that isn't just plopping myself in front of House. Though, admittedly, sometimes I do puzzles while plopped in front of House. Doing a puzzle gives me that think-but-not-think state of mind where I can say goodbye to a difficult day while beginning to transition to the rest of life.

(This is the one I'm working on now. I am loving it.)


8. Good, good music.
I have the most utterly absurd CD in my car right now. It contains songs by the most random assortment of artists known to humanity. Journey, James Blunt, Black Eyed Peas, Jeff Buckley, Dar Williams... it's pretty ridiculous. But somehow, after I've witnessed a patient's death or cried with a patient's loved one, there always seems to be the perfect song for the moment. Sometimes it's "Hallelujah." Sometimes it's "Don't Stop Believin'." Sometimes it's "It's Gonna Be a Good Night." Some days I'm singing along at the top of my lungs with the windows down in traffic to "Viva Las Vegas." I don't know why, but it really helps.

7. Baking.
When the world seems crazy, it gives me incredible comfort to mix up some eggs, sugar, flour (gluten-free, of course!), butter, and cinnamon, roll it out, and come up with cinnamon rolls. It's like, "Glory be, at least something in this world has gone right today."

6. Surprises.
I had a hard weekend. I finally had enough time and space to process through the past couple of weeks which have been crazy. Just plain crazy. Chaplaincy has easy weeks and hard ones, and these past have been really tough. Daryl and I sat in a parking lot on our way to a date and I just cried. I cried because of patients I've loved who have died. I cried for the grief of their families who now have to go on living without them. I cried over the dysfunction of families who try to love each other and just can't sometimes. I cried because it's just plain hard to listen to people's stories all day every day when those stories involve cancer and Alzheimer's and strokes and heart attacks and suffering of every shape and kind.

Daryl listened patiently, as he is incredibly amazing at doing. He prayed with me. He held my hand. Then, after I'd dried my tears and said, "Okay, I think I'm good now," he asked if he could tell me a secret.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Well..." he said quietly. "You mentioned that you wanted to go see Ben Folds with the Nashville Symphony..." (I had mentioned this once, briefly, and completely forgotten to follow up and look for tickets. When I thought to look, they were already sold out.)

I was shocked. I wasn't even sure he was listening when I mentioned it weeks earlier. I definitely wasn't sure we had the money to spend.

What a sweet surprise.

5. Organizing.
This is like baking. When the world seems like it's in shambles (read: lots of people are dying of lots of terrible things), I come home and organize a cabinet. I fold laundry. I rearrange some furniture. Then I stand back and say, "Ah. That's better." It helps.

4. Prayer.
Anne Lamott says that her two most often-used prayers are "Help me help me help me" and Thank you thank you thank you." I find myself praying these more often than I imagined before hospice. Pulling up to a patient's house: "Help me." Leaving after a visit: "Thank you." Sitting with a dying patient: "Help me." Witnessing the power of God in the life of a family: "Thank you."

There are many other prayers, but often this one rings in my mind.


3. More prayer.
Then there are days where "Help me" and "Thank you" don't seem to cut it. A friend of mine said recently that he finds himself praying certain lines from the Lord's prayer over and over again. Worried about money? "Give us today our daily bread." Struck by the tragedies of this world? "Deliver us from evil." Jesus gave us this prayer for a reason: it really does cover just about anything we might encounter in this crazy world. Forgive us. Thy kingdom come.

In the face of death and disaster within families' lives, often I can only reach for these words from Jesus. My own words fail me, and I am so grateful for his on my behalf.


2. Daryl.
Daryl is a source of deep and abiding joy for me. No matter what the day holds, at the end of the day, there he is.

1. Jesus.
Would this be a good list if it didn't end this way? Well, yes, but not very truthful to what really helps me (or better yet: who).

In hospice, sometimes the only thing I know is true is that Jesus is with me. We serve a God who suffered and died on our behalf, a God who is no stranger to suffering, brokenness, disease, and even death. When I sit with a suffering patient and feel like I can't do it a moment longer because their pain is too much, too hard, too excruciating, I remember that I am not alone in that room, in that house, in that hospital. I go with Jesus. Jesus goes with me. And Jesus loves that patient more than I ever could.

This is what helps me this Tuesday.

What helps you?

Surprises

I love surprises.

No, that's not right.

I love, love, love, love, LOVE surprises. Yup. That about covers it.

I had a hard day at hospice last week. I came home exhausted and discouraged. Then I checked the mailbox. Not one, but TWO unexpected surprises!

A note from my dear, dear, dear friend Inga, along with a CD. On that CD were three songs from one of my favorite artists--Jake Armerding--who has a new album out that I hadn't even heard about. It was like musical manna from heaven.

A small package from my grandmother who lives in Michigan, containing two really good make-up brushes! The kind I would never, ever splurge on for myself! She had read my previous blog post and put them in the mail as a gesture of love.

After such a crummy, difficult day, I found myself sitting at the dining room table with these two beautiful gifts from two people I love so much, tearing up a little. "You knew I needed this today, didn't you, God?" I asked.

While I love surprises, I hate them, too. I love gifts, letters, concert tickets (thank you, Daryl!!!), unexpected trips. But I hate the unexpected turns life sometimes takes. As a child I once threw a screaming fit outside my preschool when Miss Cindy, my teacher, was absent. There was a substitute teacher in there and I was bound and determined not to have any part of that. Dad used to say that I'm not "good at hitting the curve ball." He's a sports metaphor kind of guy.

My life has been full of surprises lately, both the kind I love and the kind I hate.

I am leaving Nashville. I have moved nine times in ten years, and this will be my tenth move.

I am moving somewhere closer to home, and to do something new and exciting and joyful and challenging.

That's all I can say for now, but more news will be forthcoming.

I love the new possibilities of what is to come, but I hate that I'm leaving Nashville. I hate that this new turn of events means I'll be living apart from Daryl for a few months (again... I know...). I hate that I have to move again.

But I love the excitement of a life spent following Jesus. I love that I'll soon be doing what I feel called and gifted to do. I love that my life will soon be marked by some real stability and that Daryl and I will have the chance to put down some roots.

I'm headed north.

More soon...

Beauty Tips for... Me

Beauty Tips for Ministers became one of my favorite blogs after my friend and fellow chaplain Marie pointed it out to me over a year ago. It helps me answer many of questions I have because, prior to seminary, I've had very few female role models in ministry, and really none that were in their 20s or 30s.

It's amazing the amount of questions about physical appearance that come up as I think about myself in ministry.

What type of jewelry is appropriate? When do fun accessories cross over into the realm of distraction?

What can I do with my hair on a bad hair day? Ponytail? Updo? Cute hat? Scarf?

What says, "Young professional pastor" and not "Frumpy weird pastor," "Creepy spiritual person," or "Waaayyy too trendy to be a pastor"?

How do I tread the line between approachable and professional? I sat across from a friend over coffee awhile back and saw that she had a gorgeous French manicure and perfectly applied eye makeup. My first thought was, "Wow, I feel disheveled and unpolished. I should definitely get a manicure." My second thought was, "No, I should not, because I don't want the people to whom I'm ministering to feel like I'm feeling right now."

It's a tough call, and audience plays a big part. When I sit in people's living rooms and pray beside the bedside of their dying family members, I want to communicate that I'm a professional, but also that I'm a safe person. A person who doesn't take notice of dust on the mantle, dirty dishes in the sink, or people in their pajamas because it's just been an awful day for them.

This is all on my mind because I bought *gasp* some new makeup today. I spent almost $30. It almost killed me. $30?!? On MAKEUP?!?!? Couldn't I have used that money to do something much better, like feed the poor/care for the homeless/buy Daryl some new slippers so his feet aren't so darned cold in the morning when he gets up to make me a breakfast smoothie?

Sigh. This is how my mind works.

Yet, as dear PeaceBang (as she calls herself) reminds those of us in ministry: Appearance isn't everything. Your heart and soul are what matter. But you should still look appropriate for your age and your job. Clothing and makeup and skin care and hairstyle matter. Not as much as the inside, but they are necessary to help you present a professional appearance.

When you're officiating a funeral, standing by a dying patient's bedside, celebrating a wedding, or preaching a sermon, you want to project an image that says, in essence, "I love Jesus, and I'm here to be the minister." Loving, professional, polished, human. What a balance! I'm certainly still learning.

These are the products that graced my Target shopping basket today:

Rimmel's Kohl eyeliner pencil in "Jungle Green."

Maybelline's Volum' Express mascara. I'm super excited to try this, as I usually go for the boring standard mascara. Also, this version is waterproof, which I desperately need. I tear up probably once a day with my hospice patients and families, and I don't want to continue fearing the dreaded "Tammy Faye Baker" moment...

L'Oreal's eyeshadow in Desert Sunrise. It has numbers, for folks like me who are a bit makeup challenged... I think my youngest sister got all the artistic makeup genes. I fall into a rut all too easily. I usually don't gravitate towards browns, but I like how subdued and polished the colors are, without being too juvenile. Also, I bought jungle green eyeliner... so clearly I know how to have some fun.

Finding lipstick that is gluten-free is tricky. I've worn Clinique for years, but they can't give a definitive statement on whether their products are gluten-free. This has forced me to do the dreaded trial-and-error with some Clinique products I'd already purchased. I love their lipsticks, but last time I put one on the tummy gurglings began. Boo. Enter Burt's Bees, a company that does disclose gluten. Since nude lips are in, I purchased their lip shimmer in Peony. More glossy than lipstick-y. Totally my style.

I suffer from the dreaded shiny-face. My skin hasn't yet heard that I'm no longer a teenager, so I get shiiiiiiny with lovely afternoon oil by around 1pm. Yuck. Enter: blotting sheets. Cheap, simple, and they soak up oil without smudging makeup. Hooray, hooray.

And my impulse purchase... Gunmetal gray nail polish, which went straight onto both my fingers and toes. It looks rad. Does it look appropriate for chaplaincy? I'm not sure. I may take it off my fingernails before tomorrow morning. Or I may dress super-professionally (hellloooo, blazer and heels!) and just let my nails be a spark of excitement. I wouldn't wear this in the pulpit, but chaplaincy is a bit more informal. We shall see...

What are your favorite products for looking polished, in life or in ministry? Does anyone know of a good matte powder that helps eliminate shine? I usually use Bare Minerals, but I haven't been too happy with it lately. Perhaps I just need a new applicator brush... But that would mean $15 more dollars. And that's certainly not in the cards for me in the near future. A girl can only go so far.

Gather 'Round, for I Have News!

Whatcha Readin'?

Daryl knows when I'm healthy and happy because I'll have two or three novels going at one time. One will be at the head of our bed, another in the back of the car for waits at the DMV or the dentist's office. A third will be sitting on the coffee table, or in the dining room where I eat my breakfast.

I devour books. Love them. Live off of them. Nom. Nom. Nom.

Sadly, right now I find myself in a bit of a novel dry spell. I'm just not that inspired by anything new I've seen out there (Jonathan Franzen and I are not good author-reader buddies, for one), and I have not yet hunted down our local library to check out what they have in store.

I've just started Jeanette Walls' Half Broke Horses, which is  beginning to be wonderful, but I want more. I am the Cookie Book Monster.

So I'm asking you: what's a good book you've read lately? Why did you like it?

Thanks to: http://scientopia.org/blogs/childsplay/2010/08/08/blind-item-cookie-monster/ for the Cookie Monster pic!

Achoo.

So it turns out I'm allergic to Nashville.

After dragging through work all week up until Thursday, feeling like I was carrying a 50-pound backpack full of sand (thanks, Biggest Loser, for that image), I finally gave in and went to the doctor. It's always a tough call when to stay home sick as a health-care worker. Granted, I'm a chaplain, so I'm not changing bandages or administering medication. Yet I do spend my days in close quarters with people who are very, very ill, and I'm supposed to stay home when I'm sick to avoid spreading germs to those with suppressed immune systems. But how sick is sick?

Health care workers are historically terrible at gauging this. When I worked at a hospital in New Jersey I actually overheard this conversation at the hospital library:

Nurse 1: Yeah, so I'm supposed to stay home today until the test results are back.
Nurse 2: Really? They're being that dumb?
Nurse 1: Yeah, they think I probably have a mild case of the swine flu.
Me: (quickly standing up and running out of library)

So my problem always is: what constitutes sick? The sniffles? I get these every few days. The flu? I get this probably once a year, but since I'm contagious the day before, should I stay home for sniffles, just in case?

Add to all of this the fact that at my place of work sick days = vacation days. That's right, for every day I'm out sick, I subtract one vacation day. This is the WORST plan ever for health care workers, who are bad at staying home even when they're SUPER sick. This policy definitely contributes to sick doctors/nurses/techs coming in declaring themselves "not that sick." And come on, if going into work with the sniffles means we can still take Christmas off to be with our families, most of us will probably do this, right? How sick is sick?

By Thursday evening, I decided I needed to get checked out. I wasn't dying. I didn't have the flu. But I certainly felt crummy. Sore throat, plugged sinuses, general malaise. My energy level was at about 24%. Walking from the office to my car felt like a mile and a half. Blech.

So I stayed home, went to bed at 8pm, and slept until 10am the next morning. Then I went in to get checked out.

The verdict, according to a very kind Nashville doctor?

I'm very allergic to Nashville.

Not uncommon, from what he said. It usually takes people a few weeks of living here before their bodies get really angry at all of the pollen/pollutants/tree offal/etc. I didn't think it was allergies because my eyes weren't itchy and my nose wasn't running. According to the doctor, my "ears were full of fluid that is draining down [my] throat." EW.

So now, doped up on antihistamines, with cough drops and nasal spray in tow, I'm doing a bit better. And the good news is that I was never in danger of getting anyone else sick, because for as miserable as an allergy attack is, at least I get to keep it to myself.

Ah, Nashville. Why so allergen-laden?

Wedding Bells and Belles

My good friend Tonia got married this weekend.

You can check out her awesome blog on greenin' up your life here.

She was pretty much my third sister growing up, so both of my sisters and I got to be in her wedding! It was so fun to be bridesmaids together, though we couldn't help continually cracking this joke:

"Oh my gosh! I can't believe we showed up in the same dress! How embarrassing!"

And then laughing like ninnies.

It was an amazing, beautiful wedding, and one we'll never forget. Here are some of the photos from the big shindig:

My awesome cake-making sister Caroline made them a Packers vs. Vikings cake. Tonia (the Packers fan) fed Mike a Packers piece and Mike (the Vikings fan) fed Tonia a Vikings piece. That's true love, that is.

Almost all of the decorations were handmade, green, and gorgeous.

Aleah was adorable and hilarious, as usual...

We danced and danced, but stopped long enough for a few photos. We don't look this good that often!

I hear that this is called "photo diving." I call it super fun!

Thanks for the party, Tonia and Mike! Many, many, many blessings on your marriage as you begin this wonderful journey together.

To Make You Laugh

I discovered this hilarious website a few days ago, and haven't been able to get enough:

Not Always Right.

It's folks in customer service who deal with customers who are... well... not always right. Occasionally there's a crass one, so my apologies if it's a little too much. It makes me giggle, so I thought I'd share.

The "no pancakes" one is my current favorite.

Sunday poems - A Song for Simeon

I'm working as a hospice chaplain these days.

It can be very, very sad.

It can also be joyful in some strange ways, helping to usher people from life to death, from this world to the next; trying to help people find comfort and peace in the living as they prepare to die.

I came across this T.S. Eliot poem the other day that speaks to the end of life in a way nothing else I've come across does. It's a reference to Simeon, the old man at the temple who spoke to Mary and Joseph and their brand-new baby, Jesus. He had waited all his life to see the Messiah, and the Messiah had come.

I know it's not Sunday, but here's the poem.

"A Song for Simeon"
by T.S. Eliot

Lord, the Roman hyacinths are blooming in bowls and
The winter sun creeps by the snow hills;
The stubborn season has made stand.
My life is light, waiting for the death wind,
Like a feather on the back of my hand.
Dust in sunlight and memory in corners
Wait for the wind that chills toward the dead land.

Grant us thy peace.
I have walked many years in this city,
Kept faith and fast, provided for the poor,
Have given and taken honour and ease.
There went never any rejected from my door.

Who shall remember my house, where shall live my children's children
When the time of sorrow is come?
They will take to the goat's path, and the fox's home,
Fleeing from foreign faces and the foreign swords.

Before the time of cords and scourges and lamentation
Grant us thy peace.
Before the stations of the mountain of desolation,
Before the certain hour of maternal sorrow,
Now at this birth season of decease,
Let the Infant, the still unspeaking and unspoken Word,
Grant Israel's consolation
To one who has eighty years and no to-morrow.

According to thy word.
They shall praise Thee and suffer in every generation
With glory and derision,
Light upon light, mounting the saints' stair.
Not for me the martyrdom, the ecstasy of thought and prayer,
Not for me the ultimate vision.
Grant me thy peace.
(And a sword shall pierce thy heart,
Thine also.)
I am tired with my own life and the lives of those after me,
I am dying in my own death and the deaths of those after me.
Let thy servant depart,
Having seen thy salvation.

Oh Tennessee...

During the past week, I've seen/heard/witnessed the following two things:

1. People crying on the nightly news. Why? Were they broken up about another flood? An accident? An approaching hurricane? Nope. They were crying because tonight is the final Brooks & Dunn concert EVER.

2. A grown man, professionally dressed, use the phrase: "Oh me oh my!"

Tennessee makes me smile. Sometimes it makes me laugh. People here don't seem to take themselves overly seriously. All of this is good. Very good.

Sunday poems - "Another Reason I Don't Keep a Gun in the House"

I do love Billy Collins.

I posted on Facebook over a week ago about how the barking dog in our neighborhood is driving me  insane. He barks from 5:30am to 9:30am, nonstop, at about one-second intervals. Bark. Bark. Bark. Bark. Like a doggy metronome. Then, at 9:30am exactly, he stops. It's a mystery to me what he's on about and why he stops, but I would just love for him to knock it the heck off.

Of course, as of tomorrow I'll be getting up at 6am to go to work, so the dog will only cost me half an hour of sleep instead of the two or three he's been costing me lately.


My friend Melody reminded me of this poem to help me cope with the woofing madness.

I do so love Billy Collins.

"Another Reason Why I Don't Keep a Gun in the House"
Billy Collins


The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.
He is barking the same high, rhythmic bark

that he barks every time they leave the house.
They must switch him on on their way out.


The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.
I close all the windows in the house
and put on a Beethoven symphony full blast
but I can still hear him muffled under the music,
barking, barking, barking


and now I can see him sitting in the orchestra,
his head raised confidently as if Beethoven
had included a part for barking dog.

When the record finally ends he is still barking,
sitting there in the oboe section barking,
his eyes fixed on the conductor who is
entreating him with his baton

while the other musicians listen in respectful
silence to the famous barking dog solo,
that endless coda that first established
Beethoven as an innovative genius.

Thanks to www.sunyulster.edu for the picture of Billy Collins.

Where AM I?

Daryl and I ran all of those annoying new-to-the-area errands yesterday. He changed our insurance from NJ to TN. We got new driver's licenses. We sat in some traffic (yeah, still figuring out when and where rush hour occurs in these here parts).

We were surprised to find out that the place where you get your new driver's license (the "Department of Safety," which, from the name, I would assume is where they inspect restaurants for health violations, but apparently is not) is not where you can also get new license plates for your car. So we headed out with our new DLs in hand to get our plates changed.

This particular office closed at 5pm. We arrived at 4:54pm and the line was halfway down the hall. This wasn't going to happen, but we decided to wait in line anyway. Just in case.

At 5pm a woman came out from behind the desk with a stack of labels in her hand. She handed each of us in the line one label and said, "We'll take all of you, but you're the last ones. If anyone comes after you, tell them to come back on Monday."

Daryl and I were flabbergasted. They were staying open late... for us? It was 5:03 on a FRIDAY. Why...?

We happily waited in line, and made it to the front around 5:20. The woman behind the desk filled out the necessary forms while chatting pleasantly with us both.

"Why do you stay open late?" we asked.

"What do you mean?" she said.

"Well... we were halfway down the hall, and it's after five."

"We wouldn't want you to have to come back on Monday!" she said, surprised.

"This wouldn't happen in New Jersey," I said.

"Really? Well whyever not?" she asked.

Just then there was a knock on the office door. The woman went to it, ready to explain to the would-be customer that they were now closed. It turned out to be the first customer of the day, who had returned at the day's end holding a box of cheesecake. 

"This is for you," she said to the woman. "I work at the Cheesecake Factory around the corner, and you mentioned that strawberry is your favorite."

By now my jaw was hanging open and Daryl's eyes were wide. The woman said goodbye, took her cheesecake, and returned to help us.

"That was so nice," she said. "I mentioned that I like cheesecake, so she brought me some! Isn't that sweet?"

Where am I living? Places stay open a few moments just to "be nice," and customers at the DMV return with large boxes of cheesecake just to "be nice." I'm 98% sure that if we had looked longingly enough at that cheesecake the woman would have sent us home with half of it.

Gosh, this place is nice.

Observations on Tennessee

Since I've now lived in Tennessee for eight days, I am an expert on Tennessee. No, really.

Actually I just wanted to share some observations from my first week here (much of which has been spent unpacking and running move-in errands to Target and Home Depot...). After I've been here months or years, they will surely change. There's nothing quite like the culture shock of the first week in a new place.

This list is not meant to communicate anything snide (such as: Tennessee is silly) or stereotypical (such as: people in the south are all ____), it's merely a list of observations gleaned from the past eight days.

1. People seem much more polite in Tennessee than in any state I've ever lived in.
This is, frankly, kind of unnerving after living in New Jersey. I'm torn between wanting to hug them ("Thank you for being NICE to me!") and wanting to check to make sure my wallet's still there.

2. The culture is more explicitly Christian than in the northeast or midwest.
There were Bible verses on the artwork on the walls of the hospital in town (don't worry - I was there for a meeting, not because I caught something terrible). There are about six decent Christian radio stations in town (SIX?!?!). Businesses often play these stations. It's just assumed that you go to church. We do go to church, but it's still odd when it's assumed.

3. It's legal to talk on the phone/text while driving. This is a terrible idea.
Many of the good folks of NJ are bad drivers. Very aggressive, very angry, very much in an utter hurry all the time. The folks in TN seem to be better drivers when they aren't on the phone. They seem to be on the phone a lot. I almost got mowed down in the Kroger parking lot by a soccer mom twenty minutes ago.

The Jersey girl in me muttered, not very charitably, "Thanks for almost killing me! Hope that phone call was REALLY IMPORTANT!" I'm going to need to stop doing that here.

4. The spirit of Tennessee seems to be, "It's really hot, but we'll do everything we would normally do even if it's 100 degrees outside."
People are washing the windows of a skyscraper in town today. It's 89 degrees out (with 217% humidity), and it isn't even noon. An elderly gentleman came by last week to mow our lawn - apparently he's contracted with our landlady - and we were utterly appalled. It was about 98 outside. We brought him a bottle of cold water and he kindly waved us off.

"I'm fine," he said. "This is normal." On the surface of the sun, maybe.

5. People talk about church like it's the weather.
Daryl and I went out to dinner a couple of days ago, and the waiter (who was a hipster British guy with messed up hair and an air of utter cool about him) found out we were new to the area and asked us if we'd found a church yet. Um... what? We appreciated his input, but it was so odd to have someone in the service industry just assume that we went to church. It was his third question after "where are you from" and "do you like Nashville." Odd indeed.

6. Sundresses are the thing to wear if you're a 20-something woman.
Seriously. When I wear shorts or pants out I feel very out of place. It's one way to beat the heat, I guess!


7. People in the service industry expect a greeting and a little bit of conversation before engaging in a business transaction.
I went into a meeting today all businesslike (as I've been trained in the northeast), and the receptionist responded with, "Good morning."

Taken aback, I responded in kind.

"How are you this morning?" she asked.

"Um, good?" I responded. "Can I--"

"It's a beautiful day," she said. By this point I was starting to understand the drill.

"Yes it is!" I said. "And how are you?"

After another thirty seconds of banter she helped me with what I was after. It reminds me of when my family traveled to France a decade ago and my dad kept getting reprimanded by salesclerks for his brusque, American manner.

"I'd like a--" he'd begin.

"Bonjour," they'd say, firmly.

"Right," he'd say. "I'd like a--"

"BONJOUR," they'd say again.

"Oh," he'd say, finally understanding. "Bonjour."

"What would you like?" they'd respond.

I'm going to have to relearn some social cues around these parts.


8. It's freaking hot here.
Oh my goodness. Daryl and I tried to be brave and go to the Nashville zoo (the zoo is one of my favorite, favorite things to do), and we only lasted an hour. We each drank a full water bottle and a soda, and we only lasted an hour. We melted into puddles of sweat and both came home with headaches. This will take some getting used to... Or else I'll stay inside until November. Either way.


9. It's the south. There will be bugs.
My word are there bugs. We live in the city, so we have it better than most country folks in this regard, but STILL... God bless the swallows and mourning doves that have built nests around our garage. They spend most of the day hopping around our front yard swallowing things. I want to truck in about fifty more of them.


10. I like it here.
I really do.

I Loved this Summer: Part 2

Part two of a wonderful summer begins in July. We celebrated Daryl's birthday in Wisconsin with gf German chocolate cake... Yum, yum, yum... I'm thankful to have a husband who was more than willing to let me bake him a gf cake so that I could share in the gluttony. He proclaimed it, "Just as good as a glutenous cake, and maybe even better. The frosting was definitely better!"

I discovered that making German chocolate cake frosting from scratch is pretty easy, but it's a bit horrifying what is in it. It is not good for you. But, birthdays are birthdays, and it was well worth all the butter and egg yolks for the amazing taste.

Aleah helped me do P90X. She was pretty awesome at it. She actually figured out the yoga positions and would do downward dog and upward dog before the fitness guy told her to do them. She's going to be quite the athlete!

Caitlyn was convinced that the water reserve tray for Daryl's coffee-maker birthday present was actually a giant remote control...

Daryl decided that we are probably not ready to have kids for awhile... (This is my favorite photo of the whole summer. You just can't beat these two facial expressions and matching outfits!)

We went to St. Joseph, Michigan, to visit our wonderful friends, and rode a bicycle surrey with a fringe on top. During our visit, Daniel (backseat) proposed to Megan (pink shirt) and she said YES! It's the first proposal I've ever been a part of (besides saying yes when Daryl asked, of course), and it was a wonderful and joyful day.

We had a great family reunion in Michigan (notice how many girls are in our family!). People came from as far as Pennsylvania for the annual event.

Sophie discovered her feet.

Aleah curled her... eyelashes?

We played about eight hundred games of mafia with the cousin crew (and I actually won one!)...

We saw the Cubs lose to the Cardinals on one of the windiest, hottest, rainiest days of the year. My knee-length skirt kept blowing up around my waist, so I actually had to change into some shorts I had in my backpack from staying at a friends' house the night before... I was never so grateful to have a backpack full of trip stuff. Came in verrrry handy.

We moved in to Nashville! This is a perfect picture of how randomly we packed some of the boxes. On top of those two boxes are the following: a three-hole punch, lavender soap from Trader Joe's, a makeup bag, one white heeled sandal, a small box of checkers, a handmade table runner (thanks, Caitlyn!), and six Christmas candle holders. What do these things have in common? Absolutely nothing.

And dear Eliot helped us unpack.

It was a good, good summer indeed. I'm sad to see it go!