Day 3
Yesterday. Yesterday was, on the whole, really, really good. After my morning perseverations and fears, I got up. I made lunch for my leader. We dreamed together. I took care of one of my most intractably desperate church members. I found a GREAT book that is actually about the Bible that we could use for our Lenten Bible Study. I went to bed feeling—at peace. Feeling like I was well-used. Feeling like I was here for a reason.
Today. Today, I got up at 5-ish, knowing that both of my usual attendees to Office Hours at the local coffee shop were fighting ear aches and chest colds. I would go anyway, and read this fabulous book, and wait for the one person who said she’d come a little bit late and show up at around 9:30 or 10. By 9:25, I was ready to go, but I waited, because she said she was coming. We needed to get a date to have our card-making group meet. That, and she asked me how to put her podcast episodes on snooze so they wouldn’t play one after the other all night. I felt it my pastoral duty to wait it out until I could hep her with these two vital tasks. I waited. And waited. And waited. She showed up at 10:20.
She had some concerns about the emotional health of one of our members. I told her what I had done so far. We talked about the upcoming vote. I told her about my ideas of how to do the vote. How we would have discussion days where people could yell and scream all they wanted to, and get it out of their system. And then we’d have the vote, on another day. In the middle of the worship service. Maybe follow the vote with communion. That would be church, wouldn’t it? All of us, together, no matter what the outcome? Wouldn’t that be good?
But my companion’s head was elsewhere. Can people send in absentee ballots? Why shouldn’t they be able to send in absentee ballots? If somebody comes to church a lot, we ought to let them have an absentee ballot. Will the Florida people be back in time to go to the extra meetings? She wanted to go to the series of votes for our town’s purchase of a mountain located within our borders, but she also needed to go to her choral group practice. She wished they’d had absentee ballots. We ought to be able to accommodate people who can’t be there in person. A dark vision of what this will be like welled up in my consciousness. A fight. A fight about buildings and budgets, while the people are ignored. Why can’t this be easy? Why can’t these people just look at one another and fall in love. Why can’t they fall in love with the gospel rather than the foam insulation in the sanctuary walls? But, I know some of the players involved, and there will be bad feeling and animosity all around. I can’t do this. I can’t. I don’t have another fight in me. All of a sudden, I hated everything. I don’t want to go through the yelling, the screaming, the nastiness from my toxic nemesis. I don’t have another fight in me. I just don’t. I don’t want to fail. I’m so tired.
I didn’t do much today. I knew I should eat, but I didn’t want to. I knew I should exercise, but I didn’t want to. I feel fat. I don’t just feel fat. I am fat. I call this despair and discouragement. I live next to the north church. I went to the south church, five miles away, and changed the sign in the church sign board from Christmas to the January February service announcment. It says, “Need Hope? We Can Help!” and gives the time of the service. Need Hope? We can help? How ironic.
I went to the Town Budget Meeting to present one of the local library budgets for the coming year. Yes, our town has two libraries. One in the South Village and one in the North Village. I dutifully showed up, not having any clue what I was doing. Fortunately, another board member was also there, and he was able to address whatever minor issues the committee had. I came home to four phone calls. The North organist—my friend—wanted me to know that the North church water pipes had somehow miraculously defrosted and were once again functional. A deacon who is also a social worker called and helped me strategize about how to help our desperate member. One of my sick Office Hour attendees called and asked me to call and tell the guy from church who was going to fix her computer not to come. She wasn’t up to it. A friend called. My only completely non church friend, whose mother happened to have been my mother’s best friend when they were growing up. And then, I ate kielbasa and cabbage for dinner. I zoned out to Twitter for awhile. There was a lot of juicy news out of Washington today about Trump and Bannon and Nunes. After my eyes started fuzzing over from that tiny Twitter type, I plugged in my West Wing Season 2 DVD. I need, need, need to zone out today. And, quite possibly, tomorrow.
I’m tired. I’m fat. I’m failing. I don’t want to fail.
P.S. Your Church is Dead 