The Written Exam

I wake at 5 am. Immediately I am aware that today is the written exam. I get ready and wander toward the exam room (the Alumni Room near the small chapel), wondering if the buildings are still locked this early in the morning. I prefer to just sit in the hall until time arrives.

It is eerie sitting there alone. The sanctuary is being renovated and the hall is populated with chairs and pews and a few small tables, all cordoned off with yellow caution tape. The door to the room is locked, but the small chapel is open and I go in and say a quick prayer. I know I have done what I could to prepare, and the results are in God's hands. Half of me is sure I will do OK, the other half in a panic that I will forget important things. Overall though, I know I am a better church musician because of my studies here, so no matter today's results, I am content.

A few minutes before 8 Dr. Doebele comes with laptop and flash drive and paperwork. I am instructed that I have only 3 hours to complete all sections. I should allot only about a half hour per section. When I am done, save my work to the flash drive and turn it in at the office. OK. Begin!

The clock is ticking. I complete the first section on Handbells. That goes OK. Then on the the next sections. Somewhere along the line, I feel as if I should just fill in the basics so I have longer for the analyses (choral and theory), and I decide that I will come back and augment and make my answers "prettier." The theory part takes me longer than I expected. I am slow about that stuff. I finally tell myself to move on. Time is flying away.

I love the conductor score preparation part and type furiously. I complete the Passion history section and have now worked through everything. I will go back now and redo the sections I skimped a bit on. But wait! I have only 1 minute of my precious 3 hours left! My heart sinks. Sigh. Well, I know what will be on my orals tomorrow. I save carefully, wrap everything up, and head out the door.

Passing, but not my usual quality of work. What was I thinking scheduling this so soon after a chemo treatment??? 5 weeks is not enough recovery time. Well, no matter. What is done is done. Best to bone up on the weak sections and move on.

FINALLY!

Finally! I can concentrate on getting this stuff in my head. I work systematically subject by subject. Handbells - know the facts and be able to describe the techniques. Check. Theory - can't really prepare for the harmonic analysis, but I must know all the Neopolitan chord stuff and basic things to assess. Conductor analysis - know the list of what to prepare. Check. Know the various issues with preparing choral works from each era. Involved, but check. Choral Literature - know the development and important names for my selected genre, the Passions. Check. Hymnody - know the important movements and names. Check. Issues in Church Music - be able to answer the questions on the list. Trickier. But OK.

By noon I had covered all the material. But keeping it in my head will be the thing. I eat lunch, take a walk by the lake, and review my cards, trying to recite from memory the parts or create acronyms for the various pieces. Funny how many lists have 7 components. I take a short nap, then review again. I wander about the dorm, conversing with various people I bump into until it is time for the Coburg Recital - the annual showcase of what students have been working on this year.

I make my way to the sanctuary to hear performances of organ pieces, handbell pieces, solos, and one choral piece. I smile. It is comforting to be on the listening side of the event. Tomorrow seems a long way off, but I decline the invitation to get ice cream. I know that will stretch late into the evening and I need my rest.

I bid friends farewell and head to my room. 8 am will come soon enough.

The Long Drive

Finally I can turn my attention to my written comprehensive exams for my Master of Church Music degree. After 7 years of coursework, recital preparation and execution, dissertation writing and learning, I now need to recall and remember EVERYTHING! Yikes! No small feat for someone with chemo brain, I assure you. I have not had time to properly prepare. I have created study cards, written out answers to the questions, and tried desperately to be prepared for whatever may come. Now I have lost valuable time that I will not be able to make up.

I have to say I was not looking forward to a 12 hour drive, but things are what they are. Here I am driving driving driving all day all day all day. I want to stop and just work on memorization, but I cannot. I must Get There. And when I do get there, I encounter one last curve. We are now - at long last and deservedly so - housed in the new dorm. Nice. Air conditioned. View of the lake incredible. But I have to learn new ropes and find my way with less than a lot of assistance. Everyone else has been in them for weeks, and I am not in the same wing as they are.

No matter. It only takes me a short while to settle in, unpack and take a deep breath. I lay out my study guides and materials, but I am too worn out to do much more than a cursory look before I fall into bed. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will get one entire day to pull it all together. God help me, I hope it will be enough.

Pre-Arranging

I remember how difficult it was for me to make decisions about my son's funeral when he died. And how hard it was on Mom to make choices about Dad's funeral. Jan just made arrangements for Mom's funeral while we are not emotionally distraught with her passing, and it occurs to me that I should make arrangements for my funeral so that my boys will not have to do that.

I call ahead and make an appointment for before Loran's service. I explain my situation, and am given an appointment with one of the women there. She is very understanding. I am surprised at how many decisions one must make. So much more than just what casket I will be buried in! It is, in fact, an event and requires lots of forethought and planning. She is a wonderful guide and help. And I take pleasure in making these decisions! I know, it sounds morbid. If I were on my deathbed, I would be struggling to think of such things.

I see such a parallel between this event and watching my son and his fiance planning their wedding. Life events require lists and plans. We giggle about what drives the people left behind in their decisions. Trying to guess what the person would have wanted, trying to save face by going all out, trying to prove that you loved them by not being cheap. These are all things I will save my children from.

I select an angel and flower motif. Angels watching over me. Nice. We plan my gravestone. The angel will be like the one on the inside of my casket (yes, I know. This sounds macabre.) We giggle over my realization that I should not select dangly earrings because when you are laying down, they will hang funny. She 'fesses up to her wild machinations to get earrings to look normal and "hang" right.

The one thing I insist on - which the boys will see as Mom still meddling from the great beyond - is that the boys ride to the cemetery in the same limo without spouses and kids. I suspect it may be the last time they see each other in one place on this earth and I want them to have something to remember of when they were together.

Well, there you have it. My strange foray into the future. The comfort of having seen to this stuff ahead of time stayed with me through the uplifting service for Loran, through the internment service at the cemetery where I saw to Gram and Dad's graves and took another peek at my own, and on through the long drive home afterwards. How odd the things we do for those we love.

Visiting Hours

Mom's only brother passed away. He had been treated for prostate cancer, but apparently it spread, and the treatments were causing as much problem as the disease. I am sorry to lose him. An era is coming to an end, and my Mom is now the only one left. She was the youngest (my Dad the oldest, and Loran and his wife Esther - after whom I am named - in between agewise).

I am concerned that this will throw Mom back into a deep depression, and though I had planned to be in Milwaukee to study for my comps and orals, I realize how important it is for me to be at Loran's funeral. So today, on a holy day, Sunday, I am driving out to the Albany area. I will stay at Mom's former home which is being prepared for selling - probably for the last time. It is a weekend of farewells.

I arrive in time to ride with Jan down to Clifton Park for the visiting hours. I am shocked at the emptiness of Mom's home. It saddens me to think how much work and love went into building this house, of how many hours our family spent here, and now some stranger will live there who will not know of Dad or his dreams or his work. The house has been stripped of their personalities, seems almost like some vacation cabin in the Adirondacks. Is this what they have come to? Wiped out of memory and time before even Mom has passed?

At Loran's wake I speak with his sons who are now alone in this world. They are holding up well, have not changed much and yet are total strangers, their children and grandchildren unknown to me. I look at the pictures selected to represent Loran's life. He was a National Soap Box Derby winner, in the Navy, involved in ASHRAE (American Society of Heating, Refrigerating and Air Conditioning Engineers), successful businessman and entrepreneur who in his wife's final days became nursemaid and chief cook.

I once worked during a summer for him as a secretary in their home office, his wife Esther training me. Tedious paperwork, but pleasant surroundings. Their yard overflowed with flowers and wildlife including everything from hummingbirds to foxes and deer.

The generation is slipping away. I try to hold on to memories, find ways to pass them along to my children and grandchildren. It is like trying to keep water in your cupped hands. Yet the life water gives does affect each succeeding generation perhaps more than we will know. Farewell, Loran. Thank you for being part of my life. May you find peace.

Watermelon Woes

Watermelons have been good this year - sweet and juicy and tantalizing. I have had good luck with muskmelon too. Not cantaloupe, but true muskmelon which I prefer. I am usually careful to monitor amounts because I do not tolerate raw fruit tremendously well. I can handle a small amount, which is better than what I can deal with in raw vegetables.

But somehow I miscalculated how often I was indulging, and now I am paying for my melon indiscretion. Or should I say indigestion. I won't torture you with the sordid details, but let us say I am spending quantity time in the bathroom, agonizing in private. This sometimes translates into emergency stops at public institutions that offer bathrooms.

Like the other day I was home for lunch, and usually manage to take care of business before I have to return to work. But my body decided to pretend not to need such ministrations, so I climbed in the car and headed the five miles back to the library. Just as I got too far from the house to turn back, I suddenly found myself in dire straits. I needed a facility and QUICK. The agony was gut wrenching. Fortunately, I had just passed the public library, so I turned around and beat it back there, none too soon.

Its getting obnoxious when your life is interrupted so rudely. But there is no help for it. Once it passes, I will stay away from the watermelon for awhile. Of course, Queen Anne cherries are coming into season soon . . .

Fall Already???

Its not possible! Two of the trees in our complex are sporting yellow leaves. They fall like dandruff on to the ground beneath the branches and crisp into a ragged circle of brown debris. I am pretty sure fall is not coming this early. Of course, these are the two trees that normally do turn early. By August they are usually yellowed and stripping down to their winter skivvies.

But it is barely summer. I search for clues as to why the trees are losing their leaves so soon. I find no caterpillars or evidence of disease. There seems to be no lack of water, no ground pollution visible. If they were persons, I would guess chemo, because all the other trees seem healthy.

Well, I hope this is not some portent of coming issues. I shall have to keep watch. Perhaps it is just a passing fluke that will self correct.

Snow Tire Removal

I meant to do it sooner. Really. Its just that I had to purchase 2 new tires. Last fall I bought 2 all-season tires for the back wheels and snow tires for the front, intending to get 2 new all-season tires for the front when winter ended.

But somehow whenever I had time to get it done, I didn't have the funds. And when I had the funds, I didn't have the time. And of course, funding gets sucked down faster than scat, so it never hung around waiting. Boys *is* expensive - especially when they are looking at college. And graduating from college but jobless yet. And parents with darling children whom Gram needs to spoil.

Well, I finally got both sides to line up and took the car in. The guy didn't laugh at me, so perhaps I am not the only one procrastinating until summer to get the darn snow tires off. I have been told that snow tires are purposely a softer tire to allow for better traction, and that's what makes them wear out sooner. Sure hope I didn't reduce the number of years they will keep me winter tracking.

In this case, better late than never. For other things I would like to accomplish, I just hope I don't run out of days before I get to both sides to line up!

Third Candidate

Once again we step through the schedule of assessing a candidate and introducing them to our organization. We are getting this down to a science. Each candidate has been completely different in their investigation of us and of the position. This third candidate brings a corporate eye to our world, something that I think is needed here.

She interfaces well with the other campus departments with whom the position collaborates, and would be a good fit for our existing team. I have been concerned about team fit. We have worked so hard to find ways to work well together. We have become a family. We have our squabbles and disagreements, but we work well together after four years of honing the craft. Bringing onboard a new personality could shift that delicate balance.

Of course, the balance will change over the next five years or so as many of our long time library people look to retire. I cherish our current gentle interaction, knowing how rare it is to work in a place where everyone likes each other, has each others' back, and gets along well. I would hate to disrupt that before absolutely necessary!

We shall see.

Second Candidate

Today we talk with an internal candidate. She knows the issues well, can speak our language. And I am delightedly surprised at her grace and at the new ideas she puts forth. It is obvious that she has thought about our processes in depth. I am proud of her professionalism and competence.

It is never easy to interview for a higher position in the same organization for which you currently work. I am fortunate that I never officially had to do that. I have been often promoted within the organization I was working for, but not in competition with outside candidates. I was just always booted upline by my boss who could see me getting more done in a different position. I have been blessed.

I have watched others interview for a promotion type of position, and I know it can go badly and often results in the person leaving if they do not get the position. I sure hope that does not happen here. The loss would be intolerable!

Well we shall see. One more to go.

First Candidate

At long last, after months of being without a Systems Librarian, we are interviewing candidates. It is a difficult position to find qualified people to fill. There are many librarians, but few with systems expertise. And of that tiny pool, fewer still wanting to live in Rochester, NY. And of that even smaller pool, fewer still who wish to work for a small, religious, private liberal arts college where the salaries are, shall we say, not very competitive.

Really, none of the candidates we have arrived at are strong in all the required areas. We hope that somehow, magically, when we meet them in person, we will see a way for them to easily pick up the piece they are missing.

So today we meet the first candidate. He will be checking us out as much as we are looking at him. I recall interviews I have participated in, on both sides of the process. I have to say I am really glad I am not seeking a job. I am extremely grateful for my job here and hope it stays that way for a long time.

Ready, set, greet.

CoS

My responsibilities at the United Methodist Church have ended for the summer. I am free to attend other places of worship should I desire to do so. I am torn. Some of the choir members will be preaching this summer, and I would like to hear them.

Normally in the summer I visit around, gathering ideas for music and worship. This year, I will be attending Community of the Savior. I have decided to transfer my membership there and to seek commission for being a chaplain, should the Lord so allow.

It always feels as if I have come home when I am at CoS. I know most of the people, and am familiar with the activities happening there. The flow of the service is rich and inviting, and for a change, I am not part of the ministry team but just a worshiper seeking God's grace. How glorious to be in the congregation for a change!

The venue where they worship is a small chapel in the Nazareth College Seminary, St Bernard's. It is small - one could say intimate - yet filled with the grace of stained glass windows, crosses, candles and statues. The entrance is adjacent to a prayer garden intimately swathed in abundant flowers - roses and lilies and hydrangeas. There is much green space presided over by stately trees, creating an atmosphere of serenity and calm, a place set aside for peace and meditation.

It is a welcome oasis in a fast paced world. There is no sense of hurry. No one glances at their watch, anxious to be done on time. The service unfolds at its necessary pace, filled with time to absorb, to meditate, to reflect, to be in the presence of God. How delicious to be part of such a rejuvenating and filling repast. Communion, an every week sacrament here, is the perfect capstone to a morning so rich, so revitalizing.

Ah, it is good to be home.

Drew at the Dentist

OK - no getting out of it today. Drew will have to have a shot of Novocaine. I tell him about the old days when I had fillings done without Novocaine. He is unimpressed. For him, the thought of that needle is hard to consider. Worse yet, he will have to go by himself since the appointment is smack dab in the middle of my work day.

I know he feels as if he has been asked to walk to the hanging gallows under his own power. The dentist is just around the corner and down the street, and he can certainly get there by foot. I imagine him dragging his feet and piddling along the way, reticent to arrive even though he is glad to have things taken care of.

I am on the reference desk, and it is quiet, so I can pray for him even if I can't be there. I picture him sitting in the waiting room, fidgeting and trying to be brave. I pray that the shot will be quick. As soon as I think he might be done, I text him. How did it go?

He has been home a long time already. The dentist is fast. He never felt the shots but he is still numb! Now his issue is that he is hungry but can't eat until the stuff wears off! But the appointment went smooth as silk. He and his friend are watching a movie - a little treat for all his troubles.

I am pretty sure he will still be nervous for the next appointment, but now he has some experience to draw on so he can tell himself that it won't be as bad as all that.

Summer Sugar

The last time Sugar had a hair cut, Kiel shaved her the best he could. I think he got tired of waiting for me to make an appointment. She was shaggy and matted, her underbelly full of knots. You couldn't see her eyes behind the locks of hair and her ears dragged the ground. I had meant to get her clipped. Really. In fact, I had made several appointments, but I had to cancel them because something unexpected had come up or I ran out of money. Sigh.

Kiel covered the basics. Her eyes were visible, the knots were gone, and her ears were a normal length. But Sugar just wouldn't hold still for him when it came to her paws, her tail, and her muzzle. Besides, the haircut just wasn't the same without the pert little bows that the groomer uses, or the little kerchief she always sports around her neck. After my travel finally settled down and I knew I would be home, I made an appointment.

Her usual groomer was unavailable, but there was another person willing, so we signed up. It's always hard to drop her off. Sugar whined and wriggled when we pulled into the driveway, eager to get out of the car and into the house. Sugar loves being there and never gives me a parting glance, trotting happily off through the door to the back area.

After half a day, Kiel went to pick her up. Apparently this time, Sugar was not too cooperative with the new groomer either, because her trim was uneven. Patches of pink skin glared out between neat white fur. Still, her normally fluffy body was sleek and skinny without the curly thick hair. When I came into the house, she ran toward me, dancing excitedly, turning this way and that to show off her summer self, kerchief neatly triangling about her neck.

Even if she isn't exactly perfect, we will be able to see if she gets into any flea or tick trouble. Her shiny belly is clearly visible and she rolls happily on her back, buffing the stiffness out of her short haircut. Better late than never.

BiPolar Rose

Outside our front door stands a hearty rose bush. Last year it produced beautiful pink roses all summer and into the fall. This year there are already 6 gorgeous roses in full bloom. Each of them is a creamy yellow with pink around the edges. The mixture of cream and pink varies from flower to flower. Some are mostly cream with a blush of pink. Others are mostly pink with a tinge of cream.

Today as I walked Sugar, I noticed that a bud which has remained closed for a long long time had opened. I was beginning to think the bud would never blossom. But today it hesitantly unfurled and I understood at once its reticence. This amazing rose is half pink and half cream colored. Not intermixed like the others, but one side full blown pink and the other side full blown cream colored. I have never seen a rose that was half one color and half another color.

I think about people called bipolar and begin to understand it a bit. They are undiluted when they present each side of themselves. Their pure character is full blown and complete in ways that those of us who are more balanced and tempered can never be. From this rose I saw for the first time the true color of the pink and of the cream that was only suggested by the other mixed color roses.

It is true, when you blend something you have neither the one ingredient or the other but some version of both. I have a new appreciate for bipolarity. Though it can be overwhelming, I will try to appreciate the completeness of each side and stop insisting that it try to blend. Not quite sure how to do that, but this epiphany is the first step in understanding that I have had.

Gates Public Library

The Gates Public Library has been closed for weeks. The old building was maxed out and crumbling. So they decided to build a new building and expand. Lucky us - it is just around the corner from our house. Today is the first day they are open (not the grand opening, just the practice run). Drew begs to go, and I agree. I would like to see the new digs.

It is a beautiful open light filled airy structure filled with low shelving and big labels. Lots of people are wandering about appreciating the collections. Librarians are in place, smiling despite all the little things that still need to be finished. One librarian told me they just got the computers installed the evening before.

I can tell they will have a lot of traffic in here. The place is set up for all kinds of activities and there are new resources. The Monroe County Library System is celebrating 100 years of existence, and what better way to celebrate than to open a new branch building. I am delighted that Drew likes it so well and spends time exploring. I think he might actually come here on his own. Fantastic!

Permission Granted

At long last, Drew and I head for the Department of Motor Vehicles so he can take his permit test. He is a bit nervous about the how, not about the test itself. He makes me bring every conceivable document of identity possible, just in case. I feel like I am about to take a citizenship test!

I think the line is short, Drew thinks it is long. I think the wait will be long, Drew thinks it will be short. I am right. We quickly take care of the paperwork part. He gets his picture taken (good thing he primped appropriately this morning) and heads off to take the test. I sit on the wooden pews, amazed at how many people are already there despite the early hour.

In minutes he joins me, test done and passed (only 1 wrong) and we look at the number on the slip they gave him. We are about 20 away from the current number being served. Of the A numbers. There are also B numbers, C numbers and D numbers. They call the other alpha numbers in fairly quick succession while the A numbers drag by at about 10 minutes per clip. At this rate we will be here well into the afternoon. I have to get to work by 1.

They finally open up other booths and call more A numbers. Some people have not been able to wait and they skip over a few. Other people with A numbers around us are grumbling. They are 20 more further away than we are. At last, they call our number and we head to the small window.

Zip, zip and we are done. It is official. Drew has his permit. He grins as we head out the door. So, he asks, can he drive home? Not on your life! What are you thinking? Maybe after you take driver's education I might consider the safety of an empty parking lot. Dream on, child.

Marble Moon

What a delight to drive home in the daylight, even on days when I work the late shift. 9 pm and no sign of darkness yet. The only hint of night time is the amazing moon shining overhead. It appears so real and 3D that I believe I could reach up and pluck it out of the sky and slip it in my pocket. How shiny and round it is, how glistening just like a glass marble filled with swirls of white and pale yellow.

It is so full I think it will burst open and shower us with its mystical light. All the way home I smile at the amazing moon and the moon smiles back on me. Perhaps tonight the wild things will dance and the fairies will sing. Or maybe the light of the moon will draw fantastic creatures into my dreams. What a great night for a cool dip in a lake or a stroll along the river. Maybe Sugar and I will venture forth into the ephemeral moonlight and wander along the canal. Who knows what magic will be at work?

All's Quiet on the Library Front

Monday morning and the library is empty. Other than working on a manual, my calendar is barren. What a delicious way to begin a week after the strenuous conference and course demands of last week. I am blessed to have such unplanned pacing appear on my schedule.

Many staff are off today, and some library faculty are away at a conference. I sit quietly in my office and catch up on email and projects. I think there might be 3 of us in the building, including students. A true summer leisure - this does not happen often! I find myself being able to organize for the coming weeks, some of which will again be challenging.

The best part of today is that I can rest my bruised brain! Not sorting through complex issues and regurgitating profundity and prosody. I can actually go on auto pilot and muddle through with what I call grunt work - that repetitive labor that one can do while semi asleep. I savor the break. It doesn't happen often.

Accidental Nap

I didn't mean to fall asleep. I came home after church and just sat down for a minute. This was Sherri's final service as our pastor, and we also celebrated confirmation of our young adults. A beautiful service filled with tender moments and significant ceremony. I truly enjoyed every moment. I didn't even think I was tired.

I must have conked out the minute my head leaned back against the puffy cushions. The boys are out at church and won't be back for awhile, and the dog is happy curled on my lap. Really I just meant to pause for a moment to think about what to do next. But that took care of itself. Next was a good long snooze.

I had thought I would call and chat with a few friends since I have been unavailable recently. And cooking a delicious dinner sprang to mind. All that went out the window as I blissfully found rejuvenation in closed eyes and brain in sleep mode. Sugar didn't mind at all. Come to think of it, neither did I. Sabbath is for rest, and what better way to rest than sleep.

DownTime

Whew! What a relief to have a day of nothing planned and no place to go. I can actually sit and do nothing if I want. Well, other than catching up with cleaning the bathroom and the kitchen and unearthing my bedroom. Filing paperwork and making sure I have paid all the bills. Simple stuff like that.

And checking in with the boys to see where they are in their situations. Drew is more than done with school and happy to be a senior. He can't wait to start driver's education and is applying for jobs around the apartment. Kiel is still doing his final class and stressing about the assignments. He is also job hunting, a bit more seriously than Drew.

I also check my calendar for upcoming anniversaries and birthdays. Every month there is someone celebrating a special day. I am notorious for missing the actual date but eventually sending a remembrance. Fortunately, people don't get too upset about it and chalk it up to my chemo brain.

Ah, yes. Much to catch up on during this delightful hiatus in the midst of the semester. Thank God for reasonable pacing.

More Goodbyes

This week has flown by. Along the way, a few people had to leave us due to life intervening. Illness and funerals and surgeries and other not so pleasant happenings. But now, the brain tingling work has been accomplished, the conversations have happened, the exploration of our topic concluded. All that remains is for us to assimilate all the materials and come up with a paper about where we are in the process. Right.

And to say another farewell to those who do not live in the Rochester area. Once again, the departing board cars, motorcycles, planes and other modes of transport and head back to their home digs. They take with them a piece of Rochester and of the seminary, but also a bit of each other. We are bound together by the experience we have shared, by the way our discussions will affect the work we do and the manner in which we minister.

It is not so much a sad good bye this time as an expectant one. We will meet again in January, having had time to put into practice what we are learning. Will it work? Will we find the going easier or more challenging? Will it make a difference to the people we minister to? We will find out in our next intersection of course and communion, Lord willing.

Mind Bending Class

OK I read some of the assigned books over a month ago. They were challenging to grasp then, and the notes I took show my struggle to untangle the twisted rhetoric of the writers. Now the professor asks us to summarize what the authors said. Good lord. I can barely remember the color of the cover, and I left my notes in my office, not to mention the texts are in my car.

At least if I had my books here I could scan my underlining and marginalia! But no. I will simply have to think hard back to the long-past initial struggle to grasp the text. Bit by bit, as other people begin to pick away at it, the fog begins to dissipate. Ah, yes, I am remembering now. I tend to follow Einstein's philosophy of not bothering to remember what I can look up. Bad habit.

Even the professor admits that he has lived with these texts for several years now and is still working on understanding the theory behind the print. Its rather like the author trekked to the top of a high mountain, spent days analyzing what he saw, then did his best to write it down and convince those of us who have not been on the mountain that what he is saying is so.

Eventually, light begins to dawn and the conversation picks up. I have to admit though, I am ready for break. I think my brain is beginning to chafe.

Grampa Sam's

Our cohort has been invited by the seminary dean to break bread together at an Italian eatery in Spencerport called Grampa Sam's. I have never eaten there, but I am told the food is delicious. It is always a challenge for me to eat out in a new place because of all the restrictions in diet related to what my body has been through.

At first, I declined because Wednesday is my night to work the reference desk. We have been so short handed and have so many people coming and going in the library that I didn't even want to ask for an exchange. I just planned to attend the conference all day and work my regular evening shift. But when I checked in this morning before heading to class, my colleagues informed me that they had realized the situation and had simply covered it for me.

Is that not amazing to work with such caring and sensitive people who have your best interests at heart? I am truly blessed. And free to go out with my new classmates. What a repast we had. I stuck with a simple pasta dish with no surprises, nothing fancy, just a predictable meal. It was amazingly delicious, and I enjoyed watching others eat the fancy dishes I would never have attempted.

Meanwhile the conversation was rich and engaging. Sometimes I listened to three concurrent threads, amazed at the wealth of experience and expertise that was gathered around the table. We paid no attention to the time, but simply savored each others' company. There is something very satisfying about breaking bread with others that makes you feel whole and a part of something better than yourself even if you didn't slave away making the food.

At last we tore ourselves away, full in tummy, full in thoughts, full in soul. Alas, tomorrow we are back at the challenges of coursework and will have to think. I hope I have time to digest everything before jumping in again.

Conference on Ministry

We gather in the Cultural Life Center - a perfect setting for a conference on culture. Conversations begin around a table laden with breakfast foods: fruit, muffins, coffee, tea, scones and other goodies. Gradually, we make our way into Shewan hall where there are tables set up and where we greet others we know. Then we are called to worship and together lift our voices in song, some new, others familiar. Our worship leaders assist us, lining out the tunes, signalling when to sing up or down the scale.

Andy Crouch challenges us to think about how we interact with the world, with our society, with our faith. Do we see ourselves as commissioned by God to continue the work of creation, to take what he has begun and pattern our lives after his example of making the best new artifacts from the raw materials of earth? Are we working for renewal in all the various capacities that we can, be it art, music, technology, medicine, environment, or whatever place our skills apply?

Between session conversations are excited, full of buzz and curious exploration. Much to think about. Much to reflect on as I look both back at what I have been doing and forward at the possibilities.

D Min class on campus

Here we go again. Without traveling to a foreign country such as Stella Maris, we gather together to wrestle with the tenets of faith and how that might look in our time and place, in the confines of our culture and era. We have struggled to grasp weighty tombs of philosophy and complicated sociological frameworks, then relate that to what we engage in on a regular basis. Now we can continue the conversation face to face.


The on campus sessions are mixed in with a conference on culture, and after the first day, we join many other interested people in exploring faith in the 21st century. The presentations challenge us to be intentional and faithful and relevant and significant in how we live our God-given lives. Wow. I have a long ways to go just to get into the right heart space. I have gained a great deal of respect for those of earlier generations who were so disciplined about their faith walk and their obedience to the will of God.

We shall see how the week goes, but I am already reeling at how under faithful I am and amazed at how far along I ought to be. The one hope that keeps me going is that I continually catch glimpses of pieces that will help me reach out to cancer patients. Ideas flood my head and I wrestle with getting them documented in a way that I can decipher after the dust of the week has settled. So much to do. So little time.

Sunday to the Max

We knew today would be a packed service. First of all, it is communion Sunday, which always adds time to our worship. Second, we are baptizing long awaited twins! And it is almost Pastor Sherri's final Sunday with us. I questioned whether I should do thank yous for all the people who have done so much in the music realm over the past year, but if I wait until next week, I am facing another packed service and interfering with Sherri's last day with us.

I opt to mix it into today's service. I have both pins and certificates to hand out, and decide to acknowledge people as they come up to participate in worship. First the phenomenal chime choir who have made so much progress this year. I am so proud of them! They play the call to worship and afterwards I recognize and thank them.

Then at children's time, I recognize and thank the children's choir - not only the precious young ladies but also the moms who have helped out. Before the choir anthem, I call out the names of my terrific choir members who so graciously put in lots of extra time and energy learning all the music for my degree recital earlier this year. I am so thankful to them for their dedication and willingness to support me in my insanity!

What a blessing to work with such great people. Then at offertory, I recognize those who have played instruments throughout the year. A great variety of instruments and ages, all willing to step in at my request and at their request to augment our worship with their unique instrument.

I know it packs the already full service, but I don't want to wait to recognize everyone's hard work and dedication. Really, a packed service is the best time and place to say THANK YOU FOR A JOB WELL DONE!

Not Entirely Farewell

Can it be possible that the pastor of the church where I serve as minister of music is really leaving? Yes, she has been promoted to district superintendent of another NYS area. Well deserved I say. Sherri has been a wonderful, supportive, caring pastor with whom I have totally enjoyed working. I will truly miss her smile and her no nonsense approach to faith and life.

Planning worship with Sherri was a delight. Our minds seem to travel along the same paths, and the synergy in brainstorming was so refreshing. I never had to worry whether I was stepping out of bounds. Sherri always understood that my ideas are take it or leave propositions and that I would never consider forcing my ideas on anyone. She knew what to follow up on and what to leave in the dust.

My one regret is that we never got to spend much time together. Our two worlds don't intersect much and many times we just knew what the other had in mind and followed through. She never got distressed when I had to leave things until the last minute, and handled my struggles to do more on short notice with grace and aplomb.

I wanted to somehow tell her how significant she has been to me in my spiritual growth, to tell others what a joy it has been working with her. As I thought of times I could recall in tribute, one example came shining through. When I was headed into chemo, Sherri was there with me. She gifted me with practical comforting things - a fleece blanket, warm pink socks, a spacious sturdy pink cloth bag. More importantly, she sat with me through the early infusions, not being thrown when the benadryl knocked me out. Her presence helped me stay steady in the face of the unknown and scary.

Faithful presence. It is so important in life. How meaningful to have someone you can count on be there with you. She came with me into the biopsy room when they were planning on sticking a probe down my throat and snipping pieces of lymph tissue through the lining of my stomach. I was not a little distraught about that. She stood at the foot of the gurney and held my ankles, out of the way of the medical people, but the touch held my panic levels down to a dull roar.

Not many friends will do that for you, much less your pastor! How rare and precious her caring heart and willingness to climb down in the trenches and do whatever it may take. I watched her with amazement as she stood by her people through the hard times. When one of her congregation passed away, she was sorrowful for weeks as if it had been her own family member.

As well, her care to set the communion table in an aesthetically pleasing way, to bring the gentle touch of tasteful decor into the experience of the Lord's supper. She always brought a richer experience not only at communion time, but also for each of the liturgical seasons. How blessed I am to have worked with this extraordinary woman! I will miss her decorations.

I know I shall see her again, hopefully in this world. My wish is that we will find time to meet for lunch without the encumbrance of needing to get something done; that we will finally be able to just be sisters who enjoy spending quiet times together comparing notes.

Faculty Senate

I have been asked to serve as the library representative to the faculty senate here at Roberts. It is a huge responsibility, and one I do not take lightly. I hardly feel I have the necessary institutional immersion yet to fully grasp what my role is about even though I have been here four years (does that seem possible?).

I follow long time employee, Roberts alum, and archivist who has served as senator often and is just completing his repeat term of the current assignment. I am sorry he will be rotating off as I know he has the full sense of the lay of the land and our role therein.

The senate asks the new representatives to attend its final session of the academic year alongside the current senator. I walked across campus with my colleague, a bit nervous. After all, I am about as political as a squash! We stepped into the meeting room greeted by a wonderful spread of fruit salad, ice tea and little pastries. A delicious treat.

During the course of the meeting, I was able to keep up since the paperwork had been sent us in advance. In places, I whispered questions to my colleague who helped me get my bearings. The discussions were productive and informative. It is a whole new perspective on campus happenings, one that will help the library as we work to embed resources in programs.

They properly thanked the outgoing senators and welcomed the incoming (there are 3 of us). I am looking forward to serving next year. It will be a challenging year as we move from a division oriented campus to a school oriented campus. I suspect I will be in my colleague's office often for the lowdown scoops.

Saying Goodbye

I can't believe our time has come to an end. We close with a communion service in the convent chapel overlooking the lake. It is a solemn and thought provoking celebration marking the beginning of our seminary journey. Too soon I am packing my suitcase into the truck to head back to Rochester.

Back to the library world, to the boys and Sugar, to choir rehearsal. How odd it feels to leave the peace, quiet and order of Stella Maris and plunge back into the chaos, noise and disarray of life. I take with me a raft of new friends, fellow compatriots in study and contemplation. Their world is vastly different from mine. I am just beginning to see how different.

Next week many of us will be in the on-campus class. Some will not. New faces will join in, many of whom have been in seminary for awhile. The conversations thus far have been rich and challenging. I see things in new light, and its not always pretty.

We stand about in the parking lot saying good-bye. We are reticent to leave. But in the end, one by one we climb into our cars and drive out from the cloistered world of peace onto the highway of many places. It is not really goodbye. More like "see you in a bit."

Dorm Chats

Its a bit like living in a dorm, being assigned a room in the convent retreat center. Women are kindly housed on the main floor while the men are upstairs. My room is on the side of the building overlooking the lake. The rooms are simple. A bed. A dresser. A desk. A small clothes bar, and a rocking chair.


The daily schedule is not overwhelming, but definitely full. Breakfast at 8, morning devotions together, class begins at 9 - that kind of thing. Morning sessions blend into lunch which blends into the afternoon sessions blending into dinner followed by evening classes and a night time devotion. There is much to do.


By the time we are free from our commitments, it is already late. Reading and undone assignments preclude socializing too much although many have worked ahead and take walks into town or down by the lake. I am stuck in my room playing catch up. I hear the women as they return full of chatter and happiness. We gab as they pass my door and sometimes the conversations are long. Soon I find my room full of people discussing all sorts of imaginable topics, comparing, assessing, exploring.

The good sisters have instructed us to spray our window screens with unscented hairspray to keep the gnats out, and we dutifully have done so. The breeze off the lake is refreshing. We finally end our conversation, tearing ourselves away, tired and in need of sleep. Showers spray and doors close.

One last whispered conversation with the lady across the hall draws me into her room where we are slowly rejoined by the rest clad in their pj's. We chat a bit longer, then I excuse myself and head to my room. What on earth??? The walls are swarming with the little black gnats. Apparently the hairspray wore off when we weren't looking. Another person discovers her entire bed is littered with the pesky things. She opts for a room NOT on the lake side and moves her stuff. My room is less infected, and I turn off the room light. The bugs exit towards the street light outside.

I have no time to think about them again. My head hits the pillow and I am asleep. I am not used to staying up indulging in gab fests. As much fun as it is, there are other things I need my energy for. It was nice though to step back to an earlier stage of life for a few minutes. Just so long as I don't make a habit of it. Pun intended.









staying up late