the.church.search

Today our family will visit a church for the first time.  To protect the innocent, I will not name names.  We're without a church home and would like to quickly find a place that will be ours.

Our family has more than a fair share of ministry baggage, as in we've been on the inside of pastoral staff multiple times.  Not to mention, through the years we've attended churches of multiple denominations and non-denominations in multiple states.  So, if one could receive an honorary degree in Varied Church Attendance, we would now hold doctorates.

Since both my husband and I work in full time faith based ministries, we work full time with faith filled people.  We actually pray at work, discuss theology at work, do a lot of church type things......at work.  Meaning, we don't want our church experience to be another day at the office.  At least I don't.  I suppose I shouldn't speak for him......

We're a family of varied interests.  It seems many modern churches want to appeal to what society deems as the modern young person.  Our oldest young person is a seventeen year old classical guitar player.  When gifted with a nice chunk of {back to school} money from his grandparents, he didn't ask to be taken to Abercrombie & Fitch.  His first desire was a Chopin book of piano music.  Although he likes The Black Keys and Jack White and John Mayer, he also enjoys Bach.  Oh, and at his Governor's School for the Arts Jazz Concert, he threw a Jay Z and Kanye tune into his solo.  And our girl, our modern girl, went shopping yesterday [Saturday] with me, all dressed up in dress pants, heels, and a lovely necklace.  She looked like she was headed to corporate office, not Target.

What I'm trying to say is......we're not necessarily the [norm] when it comes to what many modern churches are striving to please.  I have some workmates who frequently call me a [hippie].  And my husband doesn't like the Bengals or the Reds, which seems to be a prerequisite to church work in Lexington, Kentucky.

I'm curious what today's service will yield.  I hope we love it and feel at home and continue there until the end of time.  But, I'm not getting my hopes up because the.church.search is so difficult, and it leaves me wishing we'd raised our family as good Episcopalians, never considering another church life, always happy with the pipe organ, real wine with the Eucharist and the Passing of the Peace, instead of the seemingly endless, always uncomfortable for introverts, greeting time.

Last night at Orange Leaf [a frozen yogurt place, if you don't live in LEX], we noticed a young man with the name of the church we're visiting today on his t-shirt.  [Could this be a sign????]  My husband called him over and asked about the church.  The guy only gave a raving report about how great it is.  He also mentioned he's a college student and doesn't often get up early enough on Sundays for church........

camping w/dogs

If you pay attention, you can overhear a lot.  For instance, I’m listening right now while a woman tells another woman how her cat recently had to be put down.  I’m sitting in my van, in the Lexington Music Academy parking lot.  The woman who didn’t just lose her cat invited the pet mourner to eat dinner (her treat) out with her and her kids.  The mourner turned her down.  Despite my desire to shout out my window, “I’m free for a little over an hour.  I could join you,” I did not.  Instead I stayed put and began this blog entry.  

Our family went camping this weekend.  Speaking of animals, we camped at the Kentucky Horse Park.  Despite the availability of all things horse at the park, we chose the campground due to the proximity to our home, the pool, and the overall niceness of the facilities.

 

We, along with most all of our fellow Horse Park campers, took along our dog.  For whatever reason, it seems, 

camping people = dog people  

Our dog, who is a full blooded female beagle named CJ, is now 11 years old.  She has entered full blown senior citizen mode, complete with arthritis and a personality that reads, “I’m old and I can now do as I please.  Even if that means growling.”  CJ also suffers from allergies and a severe case of the, shall we say, “snots”.  

We found on this camping trip CJ is not above the snarling bite.  She’s never been a biter, and has always been fairly sweet when meeting humans outside our family.  Well, those days seem to be over.  Twice she acted as an aggressor.  

Fortunately we have a pop-up trailer, and CJ can relax inside when she becomes haggard of being outdoors.  Or when we’re ready to catch a break from her allergy caused itching fits and snots.  I believe she was in the trailer when Killer the Seeing Eye Dog and his visually impaired master approached our campsite.

We were enjoying our campfire, having just finished our smores.  We’d noticed the man earlier in the day.  His dog, who I’ll from now on refer to as KSED (short for Killer the Seeing……) didn’t seem like your normal service animal.  He acted a little scattered and un-business like.  Although he did look like your typical Seeing Eye Dog, beings he’s a golden retriever.

Well, as you can imagine, since we were enjoying our campfire on an August night, it was dark.  KSED and his master slowly meandered towards our site, seemingly from the restroom, which was somewhat close by.  KSED’s master kept saying “trailer”, over and over to KSED.  KSED must have thought our trailer was the one he was referring to.  

When I realized he was getting pretty close to us, I said, “hello”.  The man replied, then quickly informed us he was looking for his trailer, not ours.  My husband Chip quickly stated we could help him.  I jumped up, ready to lend a hand.  Or shall I say, guidance.  I asked what his dog’s name is.  “Killer” was his reply, as he laughed in an odd fashion.   Much like you probably do, I found Killer an unusual name for a guide dog.  How about Rex or Buddy or maybe even George?  But Killer?  That’s almost creepy, or I suppose cute, in a different sort of way.  

Because we’d seen KSED and his master earlier in the day, while the sun was still shining, I knew where to lead them back to.  As we got closer, another camper in their party saw us, and began speaking loudly at KSED’s master.  When they got close enough to reunite, I headed back to our spot, happy to be helpful.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the female camper in KSED and his master’s party had long, blue hair.  Mind you, these folks were all way past 50 years old.  Her hair naturally would have been gray.  Yet it was a nice shade of Kentucky blue.  Very interesting people.  

Other interesting people we came across, who may or may not have had their dogs along:

• The men who chose to cut limbs off a campsite pine tree for firewood (I desperately wanted  to report them to the park ranger).
•  The men exchanging pleasantries at the [dump station].  Mind you, our [gray water] is solely from washing our dishes, no human waste, thanks.  Nothing seems to bond Kentucky men more than dumping waste through a large hose into the sewer.
• All the people who own [or rent at the park] golf carts.  Why don't they walk?  
• Lifeguards whose idea of [rough horseplay] must be quite extreme.  A band of boys frolicking in the park pool wouldn't have gotten away with such behavior at our local YMCA pool.

Perhaps I'm becoming old and cranky, like our beagle......... or more judgmental.  Really, can't everyone be like me [and my dog]?

sensory.overload

The past few weeks have left me fairly exhausted, if not in a physical way, at least in a sensorial.  Can a person be sensorially exhausted?  If so, I am.

I have felt:

overwhelmed

disappointed

excited

contemplative

worn out

happy

confused

relaxed

In the past few weeks:

I have seen and met people from all over the country and some from other countries. 

I've eaten falafel for the first time.   

I've arrived home from business travel after 2 a.m. 

I've been concerned about my son's bout 

with bronchitis and pneumonia.  

I've ran a 5K.  

I've anticipated my daughter's first day of high school 

and my son's last first day of school.  

I've helped my husband navigate a job change decision. 

I've come to some professional realities.

I received the news I did not win a writing contest I entered.

Perhaps you'd like to keep reading, and get the full play-by-play, so to speak.  Perhaps not........


Saturday and Sunday
A few Saturdays ago, three of our family headed north to watch the fourth member perform in a classical guitar concert at the College-Conservatory of Music at the University of Cincinnati.   While in Cincinnati, my husband, daughter and I were able to tour a neighborhood I'd researched - Over the Rhine.  We walked through a park on Saturday afternoon [eliciting that lovely Chicago song] and wandered a few of the neighborhood's streets.  As I mentioned in a previous entry, Cincinnati is a much.much.much larger city than our hometown of Lexington.  It's a different type of city than Lexington [river city, mid-western city, lots and lots of bricks].

Back to the point of our visit........The participants in the concert consisted of music professors, professional classical guitarists, advanced students, as well as novices.  Our son performed a solo on Saturday, and he was, as to be expected, nervous to play in front of such acclaimed people in the classical guitar world.  The week long workshop ended Sunday afternoon.

Monday
The next day, both our children began high school marching band camp.  The fourth and last year for the boy.  The first year for the girl.  Band camp marks the beginning of the busiest season of the year in our home.  High school marching band [in case you didn't know] is an almost all consuming activity that affects all members of the household.

Tuesday
One of my work supervisors asked me if I could arrange my schedule in order to accomodate our organization's need for me to attend a conference in Washington D.C. [next week].  Mind you, I've not done any business travel in over two years.  And I knew very little about what the conference was focusing on.

Wednesday
I agreed to attend the conference, and began making arrangements accordingly. 

Thursday, Friday, Saturday
I honestly can't remember that well, at this point.

Sunday
I celebrated my 44th birthday with my family, enjoying homemade grilled pizza and a chocolate ice cream pie.    

Monday
I worked a full day, then headed to Washington D.C.  Unfortunately, the scheduled flight to Charlotte was late, and I and my co-traveling co-workers missed our connection.  We ended up spending the night in Charlotte, thankfully in a rather nice hotel.  Kindly, my co-workers rang in my birthday at midnight Tuesday morning, before we called it a night.  Unfortunately, our checked bags went on to Washington ahead of us, leaving me with less than the usual hygiene products I generally utilize.  I should also mention I didn't have a change of clothes with me.  Or make up. 

Tuesday 
The day started before the sun rose, with an early flight to Washington.  Actually, due to the late night before, Tuesday had already started.  This was my "official" birthday, and I spent it with hundreds of fellow federal grantees, joining some fellow Kentuckian federal grantees for dinner.  The dinner company included an unfortunate man who had an abscessed tooth, making me unsure as to whether "What the hell?" is something he says frequently or if it was the pain talking.........

Wednesday
The conference continued.  I thoroughly enjoyed some alone time Wednesday evening, sitting by the hotel pool, then walking down Connecticut Avenue.  I ate dinner on the patio at Zorba's.  [If you click on the link, I sat in the same place as the lady on the right with the dark hair/blue shirt.]  

Thursday
The conference concluded and the return trip home began.  My co-workers and I had some free time that afternoon, and were able to see the MLK Jr. Memorial.

Then we began the trek home. Which, like the trip to Washington D.C., did not go as planned.  But we did have a nice airport convo with a beer drinking Mormon whose husband is an MMA fighter.  And I met a business traveling woman from Austin who takes her 6 month old along for a day of meetings in Washington.  Apparently she hires a baby sitter for the day.  Definitely a different life than the one I'm living.  But interesting, nonetheless.  [Incidentally, I think the word nonetheless is cool, because it's 3 words in 1!]

Friday
I slept walked through most of the day, enjoying a band parent picnic in the evening.  And somewhere during the course of the daylight hours I made potato salad.  I awoke sometime in the wee hours of the morning stressed out.  Is that normal? 

Saturday
Our family caught the new Bourne movie [don't judge me, but I prefer the new guy to Matt Damon].  Then.... Saturday night [along with 6000 other people] we ran the race.  The 5K we prepped all summer for. AKA A Midsummer Night's Run.

Sunday
I felt like I'd been hit by a truck.  But we had a nice family day together.  And we went to Trader Joe's.  And the farmer's market.  Which are generally highlights for me.  And they didn't disappoint.  And most importantly, I came to the realization that I should not let my own selfish pride get in the way of my own daughter's good.  I'll probably report more on that at a later date.  Oh, one more thing....a young lady that my daughter believes 'hung the moon' released a youtube video featuring her shopping trip to the Salvation Army Thrift Store.  Now Allie believes it might just be okay to join the rest of the fam in thrift store shopping [a major break through]. 

Monday
Another week began.......the school year will soon start, we'll grow older, and life will continue.

on.to.the.next.chapter

Much in the life of my family has been cyclical.  Or rather, we end up coming full circle.  It happened again this week, when my husband accepted a position at an organization in which he previously worked.  And with that acceptance, I believe we've ended a chapter.

I realized recently this season of life began two years ago, when my then workplace was in the process of determining what would happen next.  We had lost a federal grant and there was no funding on the horizon.  While we hoped for a miracle or a "funder" or a check in the mail, nothing happened except the bank account drained.  I found another job, launching me into the full time work force for the first time in ump-teen years.

Soon after, my husband started a job that I thought would be great and redeeming and an answer to years of questions, but it ended up being anything but any of those.

Stress and health issues and wondering if I would lose my sanity filled 2011.  Despite difficulties in the past, I realized that family issues are compounded when adolescent and teenage children are involved.  Bits and pieces were shared, I hope appropriately with others, but I've never discussed completely with anyone except my husband everything that has happened over the previous two years.  Oh, there have been lovely days and weeks.  There have been joyful family events and much to be thankful for.  And I have no doubts our family will be a complete family until the proverbial "death us do part."

Please don't take this as a

Help me, I've been going through something terrible and you haven't been there to help me.  

That's not at all what this entry is about.  I've learned that much darkness has to be combated alone.  Not for prideful or selfish or fearful reasons, but so a person can grow.  And sometimes I think we see the answers so much more clearly when we're alone and unprompted by others to see something that maybe isn't really there.

So two years, give or take later, I feel free to say this chapter is ending.  And, with much thankfulness, I report it has a happy ending.  Though I'm wise enough to know everything won't always come up roses, I firmly believe I'm past some difficult days.  And I even feel someday I might be able to help someone else through something similar, if they choose to reach out.

I look forward to the next chapter, which will most likely bring a bunch of change.  And with any change, there's some awkwardness and stress.  But I look ahead with a joyful expectancy.

But the longer we wait, the larger we become, and the more joyful our expectancy.

Romans 8:25 (The Message)

{big.city.big.world}

This afternoon we left our boy in Cincinnati, a much.much.much larger city than our town of Lexington.  He's spending a week at the Cincinnati Conservatory of Music.

As of today, there's a possibility he might want to attend college there, on the University of Cincinnati campus.  Again, Cincinnati is a much.much.much bigger city than ours.


It hit me as we drove back into Lexington.  I've heard people mention how big they feel Lexington is.  Especially if they're from a small town.  But really, it's not a big city.  A big town, maybe.

It's hard to leave your kids somewhere.  I think it's different when they get on a bus and ride away.  Like on a school trip.  They're with familiar people.  But saying good-bye, jumping in the car, and leaving your child in a place far away is unnerving.

A year from now, he'll be preparing for his first semester in college.  He might be attending the University of Kentucky, which is a few miles south of our home.  Which means he could still sleep here [as in home], or at least eat here occasionally, and of course, do his laundry here [or have his dad do his laundry here].  But a year from now, he could possibly be preparing for a move to the big city.  Maybe not Cincinnati, but another one.  A scenario where we'll drive him and leave him and maybe not see him for weeks.

While walking about the campus today, I asked daughter Allie if she thinks she'd like to attend the University of Cincinnati.  She liked the large campus feel, but believes it's too close to home.  Later in the evening, Allie told me she'd like to attend college in another country.  Preferably England.  [In case you didn't know, that's a long way from our home.]

I'm hoping this England thing is a phase [see previous entry].  I recommended she consider college in Canada.  It's another country, and......I figure we can at least drive there.

These days are difficult for a mother.  I liked that year when the kids were in 5th and 2nd grade.

who's Eleanor?

Names interest me. I can't remember the title, but yesterday I saw a book at the library that had something to do with an intense methodology to use when choosing a baby name.  We chose to name our son after my husband and our daughter after my sister [no science except biology involved, thanks].  Lately I've wondered why I always tell the truth when those silly password questions ask for my mother's maiden name.  Why don't I make up something super exotic like Bevacqua or Tolstoy or Rachmaninoff?  Or alternate between Smith and Jones?  Today while driving I saw a van that said "Colvin's" something or other on the side.  Since that's my mother's actual maiden name, I decided I better take it as a sign and stick with the truth.

{God save the queen.......}

My mind races on......the surname Colvin can be traced back to Ireland and/or England.  Which brings me to the title of this entry.....  Eleanor.  Someone my daughter seems to know a bunch about.  And she happily explained everything she knows of Eleanor, plus showed me Eleanor's photos from the internet this afternoon.  In case you're like me, and find yourself culturally unaware, Eleanor dates one of the young men from One Direction.  Apparently Eleanor is British and stylish.  And aren't all things British to be celebrated right now [Olympics, Kate and William, Queen's Diamond Jubilee]?  In my daughter's world they are, as her room recently went through a bit of a European makeover. . .  And darn it if I don't love Downton Abbey myself.  


Eleanor and the Brits aside, there are less than 30 days of summer left before my son and daughter return to school.  And this year is unique because they'll attend school together.  We'll be able to drop them off at the same time/same place.  And most days they'll return home together.  This hasn't happened since my son's last year of elementary school, and darn if it will ever happen again.  So this year is a golden year, so to speak.  It's the last year before our James goes to college.  It's the year of many "lasts", which is interesting, because I still remember noting many of the "firsts".  


Decisions are ahead.  College choices and more and it's a lot to take in.  I'm ready for a support group for parents of almost college students and girls who wish they were British.  

evaluation

I'm a journaler.  I like to write.  Obviously, I have a blog.  I write prayers.  I write how I'm feeling.  Generally, I journal more when I'm feeling blasé and/or sad than I do when I'm gleeful.  


One night a few weeks ago, when my husband was away, I skimmed through my current journal.  The first entry was in May 2010.  Approximately 2 years ago.  Once I shut the book, I realized I've been through a lot in 2 years.  


Many of the entries during the summer of 2010 had to do with my then workplace, Heritage of Kentucky, losing a grant.  Prayers recorded asking God to keep it operating.  It didn't work out that way.  Prayers that I'd get another job, if it didn't work out.  I did get another job, which I currently have.  

We've moved.  Our kids are now high schoolers.  My husband has a different job.  I stopped eating meat.  

Sometimes I tell myself I'm not who and what I should be. 


My parents came for a visit recently.  They brought along a few items from my childhood  to give to me.  One was a large, framed photograph of my eighth grade class.  I'm considering hanging it over our bed.  [not really]  The interesting thing about the photo is that my daughter just graduated 8th grade in May, 30 years after I did.  So, when I look at the photo, I see me when I was like her now.  


And again, I wonder, am I who I should be?  I realize we're more than what we do and we're more than what others think of us.  But isn't it alright to ask oneself when staring at this type of photo, 

"Self, after four years of high school then four years of college, followed by twenty-two years of being a wife and working and parenting and learning, are you who you're supposed to be?"

Will my daughter, thirty years from now, regret who she's become?  I think that's my biggest fear for her.  If not my biggest, it's one of the predominants. I want her to be wholly and completely her.

Yet, I tell myself I'm doing alright.  Two years and a lot.lot.lot of changes.  And more changes on the horizon.  I'm hanging in there.  But am I living someone else's dream?  Am I helping someone else obtain their goals.hopes.dreams more than I'm helping myself achieve mine or my family's?

Maybe it's time to get a new journal....