On My Kindle

In another 48 hours, I will be delivering out-of-town friends to overnight destinations and preparing to sleep for a long, long time. I doubt that I'll write anything much between now and Monday; there's still a lot to do, there's a potential for a major change in the service, and Michelle arrives late tomorrow afternoon ~ which means nonstop conversation ahead!  My dear friend Carol arrives as well, but she's staying with friends, so we have to wait a bit longer for our actual encounter.

In the meantime, I'm about to settle in for a little reading and I thought that I'd record what's in active status on my Kindle at the moment:

Resilience, by Elizabeth Edwards.  I'm reading it since she, too, lost a son and then discovered that she had breast cancer.  A lot of other bad things happened to her, too, and she died knowing that her husband had completely failed her and their children.  I'm finding the book oddly disjointed, which is not surprising, I suppose, although it seems that an editor might have taken things in hand.

An Ignatian Pathway, by Paul Coutinho, S.J.  I'm not sure I'm even past the introduction yet, so I have nothing to say about this one.

The Monks of Tibhurine, byJohn Kiser. I loved the movie, and I'm glad I saw it first, as the visuals have stayed with me and help to fill out the book.  I'm fascinated by the monks' interactions with their Muslim neighbors, and by the Algerian history of which I knew nothing. 

Church and Countryside, by Tim Gibson.  I came across this title when I was doing some online research on the concept of the rural church.  I'm not very far into it, but I was grateful to discover that others have begun to explore and analyze the unique potential for contribution by small churches whose congregants have intentionally chosen rural and small town lives.

Christ, The Sacrament of Encounter with God, by Edward Schillebeeckx, O.P.  I've heard of Schillebeeckx, but never read him.  Last week his name came up in a series of lectures on suffering to which I was listening; he is apparently a great proponent of the value of narrative.  In fact, I would venture to say that he has had a huge impact on another person I know.  This might have been the only book of his available on Kindle; at any rate, it's the one I bought.

So there you have it, the eclectic reading interests of a Presbyterian pastor, immediately pre-ordination: breast cancer, grief, Ignatian spirituality, interfaith engagement, the contemplative life, the rural church, and Christology.

I wonder what the list will look like a year from now!

Pastor!

I guess I will never know what this day might have been like otherwise, in that fantasy life where the difficult events of the past three years and now past three weeks never happened.

But in this real life, my first day as Pastor of a Church was excellent:

Three visits to parishoners: an elderly woman recently widowed, another woman suddenly in the hospital, and an elderly couple struggling with the husband's long term health problems.

No one seems to mind having a pastor with a major health issue of her own. 

I worked on Sunday's sermon, worked on an adult education class, worked on my ordination service, and came close to resolving the health insurance craziness.

And on the way home I stopped to purchase the last few things I need to start staying overnight down in my new place.

I have several appointments over the next few weeks that should bring us closer to answering the immediate medical questions.

But most of all  . . .  I seem to be a pastor!

It's been exactly two years (I found the blog entry) since, egged on by my best friend at seminary,  I purchased the robe pictured above. (And no, I am not remotely blonde.)  I've worn the robe many times since then, but in a few weeks I am going to wear it as an ordained Minister of Word and Sacrament.  With a stole, or maybe two stoles.  As I celebrate Holy Communion.

I think all of that is actually going to happen.