Wednesday, November 09, 2016
This morning I have sat around in a sleep-deprived stupor, scrolling and scrolling and scrolling through my Facebook feed, heating and reheating the same cup of coffee as Michael's needs have kept me away from actually sitting down, mindlessly munching some peanut M and M's, and all in all trying to be my better self.
Truth be told, I don't want to be my better self. I feel angry and sad for what our country is and what many in this nation consider acceptable moral behavior from their leader. I am angry about the fear and hate that Trump gave voice to and I worry for my friends whose lives are under threat. I grieve for children who are fearful for their friends that they may be deported or that sexual assault will now be legal or will now think that racism and misogyny are OK. I also fear for our family - what will happen when we lose our health insurance, especially in light of managing a chronic condition with expensive medication and regular screenings?
I think part of the challenge we have here is to acknowledge that Trump represents the part of our country that many of us have the luxury and privilege of denying. The (dare I say) silver lining in his election is that it exposes the reality that many minorities and those of differing religions or sexual orientations have had to grapple with every single day of their lives. We need to acknowledge and claim our complicity in creating the environment which this reality can flourish. But we have the choice to do something about it.
I know the answer lies in continuing to hold out hope for others -- we know we live in a broken world in a nation with deeply divided core values, that government cannot legislate how we act toward one another, and that there is fundamentally good and beauty in the world. We each can individually commit to kindness and peace in our interactions with others, and to practice compassion for those we struggle to love. We can seek to understand where those we disagree with are coming from. We can also continue to fight for justice - to push back against the racist and misogynist and homophobic and xenophobic policies and practices that are in place and will undoubtedly unfold.
We can trust that God's kingdom is at hand and that we who claim the name of Jesus can work on behalf of bringing that kingdom into being, in both small ordinary ways and in extraordinary ways.
It's just damn hard sometimes.
Monday, September 05, 2016
I don't feel like I'm trying to be super mom...and I don't feel like I'm trying to be a super pastor either. I'm just trying to survive and not let the whole ship go swirling away into chaos. Most days are fine, but the bad days....well, it's a good thing that take-out Chinese is an impracticality, else those clothes wouldn't be fitting nearly as well. It's a reminder for me that I'm probably my harshest judge, that I'm only three months in to figuring this work/life rhythm that will be an ever-changing dance. It's a reminder that grace covers a multitude of sins and I am certainly not the only new mother who has wrestled with these same questions and had to come up with their own solutions.
What mine will be remains yet to be seen. But I trust that it will come - and when it does, it'll be time for another change!
Tuesday, June 21, 2016
Wednesday, March 16, 2016
|The day Michael was born!|
Thanks to a wonderful network of family, friends, and the island community, the household came together with a decorated nursery, clean kitchen, and meals. Ben and I haven't had to worry about anything which has allowed us to get to know this tiny person and experience this new life together as a family.
|Michael and I at just over 3 weeks!|
This past month has been so surreal; never has time passed so quickly and so slowly. I find myself caught between wanting to document every single moment and simply experiencing the gift of the present. There are times when I'll turn off the television and simply stare at him as he sleeps in my arms. I know these days will be over before I know it so I'm trying to cherish each one -- even the tough ones. Soon I'll miss the 3 am feedings where it's just me and Michael (and sometimes Netflix), I'll miss the newborn chirps and squeaks (that escalate into cries sometimes far too quickly!), and I'll miss the snuggles of a baby sleeping in my arms.
It's pretty amazing, this time we have as we begin this adventure called parenthood. I'm looking forward to where the journey will take us.
Tuesday, September 08, 2015
Labor Day weekend has come and gone. It's as if the whole island has exhaled as the energy of summer starts to disappate with friends leaving for their winter homes, school starting, and businesses shifting to fall hours. There suddenly seems to be more space available in the lives of those who live here year-round. The ferry holds a higher percentage of familiar faces. Life seems to be settling from its frantic summer pace into a more sustainable pace.
Of course, these are my conjectures, not having lived here during the fall or winter yet. Perhaps it's because I personally feel more settled on the island. Perhaps it's because I've made a few more connections with people and orginizations these past couple weeks. Perhaps it's because I have the fall more or less planned out through Advent and Epiphany Plus with worship and group studies (even if content creation isn't quite finished...thank you Marica McFee and the Worship Design Studio workshop!) Perhaps it's because I'm not quite as tired as I was during the first trimester of my pregnancy.
Whatever the reason, everything suddenly doesn't feel as overwhelming as it did before. For that, I am immensely grateful.
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
To say that it has been an adjustment would be a bit of an understatement....the least of these being the nearly irresistible urge to start belting Lonely Island's "I'm On A Boat" every time I take the ferry. (Just to warn you, the video is completely NSFW).
In all seriousness, I've discovered that life runs by the ferry schedule. Island wisdom dictates that "there is always another ferry" so if you happen to miss one, it's best to have a list of errands you can get done before the next boat. However, it does restrict what you can do on the mainland. No more late night movies unless you have a friend willing to let you crash on their couch. Lunch dates end with "Oh crap, I have to catch the boat" and a mad dash up I-295, ending with running from the parking lot with a huge pack of toilet paper in your arms (because, of course, batching errands is important) and sliding into a seat right before the engines engage. (No...that situation was completely hypothetical...really...)
This means planning has become a lot more important - because emergency ice cream isn't always available at 7 PM from the grocery store (not unless you want to drag yourself to the Yarmouth Hannaford on the 8 PM boat and not get home until 9:45 at night). Fortunately, I haven't hit the pregnancy cravings...yet. We did buy some frozen pizzas and dumplings from Trader Joe's just in case though. Buying in bulk has become a life-saver, as has Amazon Prime (thank you dog food deliveries...because I really don't want to be lugging a 30 lb bag on the ferry...although with your recent reports about your company, I sadly may have to reconsider our Prime membership). Fortuntely, we do live in the kind of place where, if you run out of sugar, you can, in fact, borrow a cup from a neighbor (which we did earlier this summer).
I'm still figuring a lot of stuff out. Moving here in the middle of the summer was a bit like drinking from the firehose of people, places, events, faces, names, and connections (oh, *you're* so-and-so's daughter, married to another-so-and-so's son...and are you here year round or for the summer?). Add starting a new job to settling in to a completely different way of life (not to mention the minutiae of moving to another state) to being in the middle of huge life changes and...yeah. Life's been intense this summer. Good, but intense. Things start to quiet down around Labor Day, and then again around Colombus Day, as I am told. I'm looking forward to getting more settled in the fall.
Thursday, June 04, 2015
It dawned on me a few times after we had said it that this sentence might be misconstrued to mean something other than what we had intended. Granted, we'd always elaborate, saying that it's the first time we've ever really vacationed anywhere that wasn't either visiting relatives or owned by relatives or relatively near relatives.
Calling this a "grown up" vacation doesn't really fit either, even though we've certainly consumed enough "grown up" beverages for it to qualify.
This is our first time out of the country together, discovering a new place together, really travelling together and we've kinda joked around saying it is our second honeymoon. This August will be eight years married for us. Ten years together. Almost fourteen years since we first met and became friends. So - I think the terminology fits, especially since we are unlikely to get another vacation in like this for a long time.
So far, it's been pretty awesome. We've both felt the need to unwind and relax, which has basically translated to two full days on the beach and evenings out on the terrace in the hammock. Today we didn't even venture in to town (which is about a 25 minute walk along the beach). I can't remember when I've had no responsibilities beyond whether I should swim before or after lunch.
Tomorrow we're hoping to be a bit more active and venture in to Puerto Viejo for some shopping and cheap empanadas.
One thing that is on the shopping list? A hammock.
Saturday, May 30, 2015
- Running in Winnekenni Park (well, maybe I won't miss the running part as much...I will miss Winnekenni)
- Our neighborhood (which was pretty awesome in many ways - beautiful houses, easy walking distance to the downtown, good neighbors)
- The Love/Hate relationship I have with Market Basket (maybe not)
- Seeing the American Dog by Exit 48 on I-495 S done by the amazing Dale Rogers Studio so frequently
- The amazing restaurants downtown and in Bradford (Wicked Big, the Artist Cafe, Keon's, Lakeview Kitchen, the Barking Dog, to name a few)
- being a part of so many great community organizations
- All the places to get Roast Beef
- Walking Downtown
- The Farmer's Market
- The River and Classical New England (thank goodness for streaming)
- Massachusetts Politics (especially given LePage's current ravings) and Affordable Health Insurance (we'll see about this last one?)
Anyway - thanks for the past 7 years, Haverhill. Before I moved there, you were just 5 exits off of 495. I'm glad I learned that you are so much more.
Friday, May 01, 2015
On a more personal level, the friendships and spirit of this place I know I will carry with me. Haverhill is a city that is slowly remaking itself and breaking away from the negative reputation it has been given. Out of its glorious, industrial past through a period of difficult times, a greener, more creative, vibrant and thriving city is emerging. I'm grateful to have been a part of many organizations helping to make that future happen.
Over the next few weeks we'll be saying goodbye to this city that has been home for this season of our life. Since leaving my hometown, it's been the place where I have lived the longest and have learned what it means to begin to set down roots in a place and begin to truly "know" a community. It was here in Haverhill that I came to fully appreciate the value of locally grown food and getting to know those who grew it. I've come to love local business and being able to walk down the street and greet my neighbors. I enjoy going to the grocery store and running into people I know.
So thank you, Haverhill, for all that you have given me for these past 7 years. It's been a good run. You are full of good people doing good things, and I know that you will thrive. Thank you for letting me and Ben be a part of your story for a time - and here's wishing you all the best on all the exciting things to come.
Saturday, April 25, 2015
(Note: this post originally appeared in Ben's monthly newsletter. If you haven't subscribed yet, head on over to his website and do so! The version I'm posting here is slightly expanded from the original article).
- Weekends are awesome, and everyone needs two days off. Sundays and Mondays were my “weekend” days where I didn’t have to be at work. One of the biggest pieces of customer feedback was “you should be open on Sundays!” to which we’d respond “we need weekends too!” So, as I head back into the ministry, there will be two days off. Consecutive days off.
- Scheduled time. I know that ministry blurs the line between “life” and “work” and there will be times when I’ll have to negotiate that boundary. Scheduled time for “work” (sermon prep, Bible study, administration, worship planning, visitation, etc) allows me to be more focused and productive, and then when I’m “off” I don’t have to feel guilty for not doing “work”.
- Mastering small talk and taking conversational risks with people. I am an introvert (Ben and I disagree on this sometimes). This job forces you (in a good way) to talk and interact with a lot of people all day - and sometimes meaningful conversations arise. It’s been great to be able to realize that talking with strangers can be lots of fun.
- Being more active! I definitely don’t want to be sitting at my desk all day in front of a computer as I prep. Taking walks around the island with the dogs and running more are two things I’m looking forward to. I’ll have to be really intentional here so I don’t slip back into old patterns.
- Good food. Oh. My. Goodness. Being surrounded by good food every day was such a gift. My usual lunch at work was a bowl of soup and I found that that was enough to get me through until dinnertime. It was so delicious (and most of them on the healthier side). It really made me value sitting down and appreciating the food in front of me and savoring every bite. (And, to be sure, I'll be stocking up on the Chinese dumplings they sell).
I start July 1st. I’m excited to see where this journey takes me as a pastor (and Ben as a pastor’s husband!)
Saturday, January 03, 2015
I wouldn't say that I'm a hoarder (probably most hoarders wouldn't say that they are hoarders either). Really, I'm not --you don't have to wade through piles of old magazines to get into the kitchen, or shove mountains of clothes to sit on the couch. My office floor is visible and I have open spaces on my desk.
I just have an emotional attachment to my stuff.
For most everything I own, I can remember (1) who gave it to me, and (2) where it comes from. To entertain the notion of giving things away makes me feel like I am offending the person who originally owned this item and that it somehow belittles the relationship we have to even think about removing it from my possession.
Or, for the items of mine that aren't so sentimental, I have this "I can/will use this someday" attitude that is not really based in reality. Magazines will somehow magically become collages, yarn will one day become comfy afghans, candles will be burned and bookmarks will be used. (Note, I never, ever use bookmarks. I generally remember the page number of the books I am in the middle of).
During the first half of this year, Ben and I are going through the house and down-sizing. There are a variety of reasons for this, but the biggest one is that we have way. too. much. stuff. There's just so much that we've moved from apartment to house to house that has never gotten unpacked. There are books we will never read again, or games that will never be played again (there are so many games that are way better than Monopoly), or papers that we'll never need again (honestly, notes from a meeting taken 5 years ago from a church that no longer exists can hardly be that important).
So thus begins the year of detaching myself from stuff. I will work through this idea that getting rid of the knick-knacks received over the years doesn't diminish any relationships or my memories I have of the people who gave them to me. I'll have a cleaner office and a less cluttered house. I'll have a few extra bucks for the date jar from all the stuff we sell. And I'll probably be a more healthy person at the end of it all.
Sunday, December 14, 2014
Since The Vine's ministry ended in October, some of you have wondered what we've been up to.
The same week we held our final worship service, I started working more regular hours at Lakeview Kitchen, a specialty grocery store that offers delicious paninis, soups, baked goods, chocolates and everything that is wonderful about food. I have joined the ranks of those who are on a regular work schedule - Tuesday through Saturday, 11:30 AM to close.
I enjoy what I do. I get to talk to customers, advise them (to the best of my limited knowledge) on purchases, make lattes, stock shelves, assist with record-keeping, take orders, and generally be hospitable and helpful. Connecting with people is great. In some ways, it's not too different about certain aspects of our ministry in Haverhill, except my interactions with people are (1) way more limited and (2) very fleeting. But I feel like if my conversation or interaction with someone can, in some small way, make their day better, then I've done my job well. Even on difficult days, I have a sense that if the people who visited the store had a positive experience, then it's all worth it. I enjoy my coworkers, my bosses are great; it's a lovely place to work.
Plus - everything in this store is delicious. I'm surprised that I haven't gained weight working here because literally, I am surrounded by amazing chocolate, delectable cheeses, mouthwatering scones and cookies, and much, much more. I'm also surprised that I don't spend my whole paycheck every week on yummy things to eat! (Ben would probably not appreciate it if I did that...)
The challenging piece of all this hasn't been the work. Work has been easy. It's how everything else fits in that has been difficult. Over my time in Haverhill, I've accumulated several different community hats, many that fit authentically with what I enjoy doing with my time and energy and that also fit well within the framework of how I envisioned my ministry in the city. I've found myself having to choose and prioritize how I spend my time (something I'm not great at to begin with). Add this to the mix of still being so unsure of what comes next long-term, evaluating options, wrapping up loose Vine ends, being worried about the present and its demands, and it's pretty stressful. There hasn't been a lot of room for good self-care (I take whatever I can get, which usually ends up being mindlessly watching TV in the evenings when I am home and football marathons on Sundays).
Most of the time, I don't let myself think about it. I have so much on my plate and I know how to deal with being overwhelmed with multiple demands, so it doesn't bother me as much as it really should. Juggling is familiar. Overworking is familiar. Going in fifty thousand different directions is familiar.
I know this pace of life isn't sustainable. It hasn't really allowed me to process or grieve the loss of the Vine. It hasn't really allowed me to start preparing for whatever might be next for us. It hasn't really given me the space I need to listen to God's call and to think about who I am apart from this thing called pastoral ministry. (I've thought about all these things some, I just haven't been able to really reflect on it all). I keep telling myself that it's just for a season - just until after the holidays, just until January, just until the next vacation or whatever. In reality, though, I'm not sure I know how to live differently.
I'm in the process of transitioning out of a few things I'm involved with in the community - some sooner and some later. The challenge will be to rearrange my plate so that the important things get priority...and not to get back into bad habits.
There is grace in all this, somehwere. Grace is in having a wonderful, loving husband who patiently puts up with me rushing everywhere and running out the door five minutes behind schedule nearly every morning. Grace is having a supportive family who will listen when I'm having a stressful day. Grace is going for a morning walk with the doggies and seeing a beautiful sunrise (when I'm up that early). Grace is having an unexpected quiet evening at home, snuggling with the dogs and with Ben and having a Parks and Recreation marathon. Grace is dinner with friends. Grace is knowing that despite the crazy, busy, unsustainable pace of life -- it'll all work out in the end. Grace is knowing that life is good.
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
Ben's been writing a lot about his story and experience of The Vine over at godlovesthiscity.wordpress.com. I'm sure many of you that read this blog also read his, but if you haven't found your way there yet, I encourage you to take a look. The process (and especially some of the feedback he’s gotten) has helped me think a bit about my own journey and about the purpose of church and community.
One of the (many!) lessons this journey has taught me is that church is a place where people were being discipled so that they could go out and in turn make disciples of Jesus. I don't care how that disciple-making happens - if you make one or if you make 200, if you talk about your faith non-stop or if you just to live it...a disciple of Jesus makes other disciples of Jesus. Faith is not a consumer product, something to be plucked off the shelf at the WalMart of Life along with your other feel-good items for Good Living. Faith is a daily, lived out process of learning to follow Jesus and teaching others to do the same.
However, we often treat the church as a provider of religious goods and services and not as a place for disciple making. (Incidentally, it makes me laugh everytime I see the line “other than intangible religious benefits, no goods or services were provided in exchange for this donation” on giving statements from churches).
I think this is the most challenging concept for us in our culture to understand, and certainly one I think few in our churches understand. We’re used to evaluating our lives based on what gives us the most benefit - spending time on the things we value, spending money on what is important to us, connecting with the people who can give us the most in return. This kind of consumer thinking certainly played into my leadership (whether I was always aware of it or not). It feels good when people come to worship and get something out of what you have to offer. It’s great when you plan an event and everybody has a great time. It’s wonderful when people start financially supporting your ministry. But - that doesn’t necessarily mean you are making disciples of Jesus Christ.
Jesus doesn’t want your time or your money or your relationships or your programs or events. Jesus wants your life. All of it. Not in piecemeal chunks (as if we could make a monthly….or weekly...payment), but everything - in one down payment of 100%. For me, that means I have to carry myself in the world as Jesus did. When I look at the way Jesus lived and how Jesus taught, I see this kenotic, self-emptying life that looks nothing like the consumeristic lifestyle our culture eats, sleeps, and breathes.
If we’re really trying to follow Jesus as a disciple, I don’t think we can place value on Jesus or church on what benefit it is to us as individuals, but how it benefits our community and our world. When those who participate in the church are primarily in it for how it benefits them, you get a community of people looking inward to their own needs and wants. It forms a community that is dependent upon its leader for all its spiritual needs. Discipleship is viewed as spiritual self-help, something that helps me and my own.
However, if we think about following Jesus in terms of the impact on the world around us, discipleship is less about us and our needs and more about others. Discipleship becomes about learning and growing in the ways of Jesus so that we can be the hands and feet of Jesus to a world that needs to be reminded of the hope and redemption that waits for us all. Discipleship becomes about how we are the body of Christ, called to go out and disciple others. Following Jesus in community with others means that at some point, the discipler steps to the background and lets the disciples step up, trusting them with the vision and mission of being the church out in the world.
I've always felt like my role as a pastor was to put myself out of a job (not, incidentally, in the way that happened with The Vine.) As a leader, my role was to disciple and empower people to take ownership for living out their own discipleship (including how they were discipling others) as well as ownership to live out their own sense of vocation in ministering to others. I've seen some wonderful examples of this in church settings from faithful commitment to volunteering at a local thrift store to working for agencies that help the homeless to investment in personal relationships to people encouraging one another using The Artist's Way.
I celebrated when there was something going on in the church that I, as a pastor, did not plan. I gave thanks when the seed of an idea took root and I knew there were capable leaders in place. It was wonderful when there was something I started that I could hand over to someone waiting in the wings because it would be an opportunity for them to grow and learn in their leadership and discipleship.
To be sure, I didn’t do this perfectly - in my own discipleship or in my own leadership. Our community wasn’t perfect either; you will always have a mix of people with a variety of motivations for being there - and that’s OK. The church is imperfect because we are all imperfect people.
But I believe that as the church adapts to the changing culture, it needs to rediscover this principle of discipling others to make disciples. No longer can we stand out in the market square, offering our religious goods at a discount price, because there will always be something better out there. Instead, we need to be living like Jesus, engaging others like Jesus did, trusting that as we do so, our world will be transformed.
Thursday, October 16, 2014
If I'm honest with myself, I've been interested in photography for as long as I can remember. When I was a kid, all four of us had fun taking pictures and putting them into albums and I would love to look through the old pictures of all of us as babies and of my parents when they were younger.
I have always wanted to take a photography class...but in high school I was too scared to take Art Fundamentals - the pre-requisite to the photography class offered. I figured that I couldn't draw and I didn't want to risk humiliation (and a potential crappy grade). Plus, I was (am) someone who compares her work to other and in the face of perceived lack of talent compared with the artistic gifts of some of my peers...well, as a teen the choice seemed obvious.
Same deal in college. Get through the 101 class to do anything interesting. Or test your luck with the JanPlan class that always filled up immediately when registration was open.
Here, there are community classes that are titled, "Get To Know Your Digital Camera." I feel like I'm a bit past that.
I plan on taking a class at some point, because I'd love to learn about composition and lighting and aperture and focal length and maybe even doing some fun dark room stuff. Just because I think it's cool.
I've had a few folks over the past few weeks share with me around my gifts in this area. I'm thankful for their encouragement and support and affirmation. I've never really thought about having a natural eye before. I'd love to hone it a bit.
In the meantime, I'm going to see if there is any interest in people actually doing anything with my images. I don't expect a huge sum of money (or even very much at all), but in this season, I feel like "why not? Let's see what happens."
So - visit me at http://instaprints.com/profiles/melissa-yosua-davis.html. Let me know if there's anything you like!