your blue eyes
look straight at me
from the online photo
I could swear you
see me, now, in frozen time
eyes amused
loving me, now, in this moment
did you just shake your head?
when I sleep
I hear you singing
songs we sang together
songs I’d forgotten
but my heart still remembered
time transcended
I believe you’re here
fingers creating music
up and down the keyboard
soprano notes coaching my voice forward
eternity erases all lines
time, space, physicality
you are here
you are There
death cannot keep you from me.
pmr
10/6/09
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Dennis
sometimes I see you
along the road
only to find it’s a trick of the light
or just more corn waving, distorted in
peripheral vision
or wishful thinking?
I slow down for men
on bicycles
carrying heavy loads
maybe even their entire lives
on two encumbered wheels
you asked for so little
less than I would have given
a cup of coffee, bowl of soup
potato
my favorite
you wanted a place to sit
for awhile
I tried talking
me in my rampant civility
you disinterested
sipping soup, loudly slurping
the black swill cooking
since this morning
but to you it was like cool water
on the tongue of Dives
you just showed up sometimes
without a word
toppled senses of normalcy
never bathed
never changed
only added or removed layers
of already well-lived clothing
clean people
knocked off their sensibilities
maybe that’s why
I liked you
you disrupted our holy
gathering
our prideful complacency
dared us to be Christ to you
or at least civil
we shared caffeinated
communion
broke the muffin
you didn’t know my name
but I wept at your obituary
pmr 10/22/09
along the road
only to find it’s a trick of the light
or just more corn waving, distorted in
peripheral vision
or wishful thinking?
I slow down for men
on bicycles
carrying heavy loads
maybe even their entire lives
on two encumbered wheels
you asked for so little
less than I would have given
a cup of coffee, bowl of soup
potato
my favorite
you wanted a place to sit
for awhile
I tried talking
me in my rampant civility
you disinterested
sipping soup, loudly slurping
the black swill cooking
since this morning
but to you it was like cool water
on the tongue of Dives
you just showed up sometimes
without a word
toppled senses of normalcy
never bathed
never changed
only added or removed layers
of already well-lived clothing
clean people
knocked off their sensibilities
maybe that’s why
I liked you
you disrupted our holy
gathering
our prideful complacency
dared us to be Christ to you
or at least civil
we shared caffeinated
communion
broke the muffin
you didn’t know my name
but I wept at your obituary
pmr 10/22/09
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Just Call Me Peggy
I got my name back this week, and, as it turns out, my life. I didn't know, really, until this week just how much my life has not been my own.
I've always joked with people that I didn't like being called "Pastor Peggy," because it sounds like you were spitting at me. Some insisted on using a title, so I tried to revert them to "Rev. Peggy," but that, too, sounded a little weird. I also didn't like it because often people would shorten it to "Pastor." And I never felt like my name was Pastor. My mother will tell you how I changed my name several tiimes in adolescence before I settled on Peggy. Just Peggy. So it feels good to get my name back, to drop the "Pastor," and be just plain Peggy again.
As many of you know, I'm starting a new job on the 19th of this month as a Bereavement Coordinator for hospice. There was a time in my life that I'd never would have dreamed of being interested in hospice simply because I didn't think I could handle it. But I've walked that valley with enough friends and parishioners, now, that I am feeling called toward that ministry of compassion and comfort.
What I did not expect in this decision-making process, was to leave the ministry entirely. I didn't see myself serving a church again in the future, simply because of the petty things that go on and have begun to overshadow the real work of the Church. I felt strongly that I "could be a better minister by not being a minister," as Ralph Waldo Emerson once said. This decision to find something else has been working on me for a long time, but I wasn't sure how marketable a Masters in Divinity would ultimately be. When my friend Karen was dying, I got to see hospice at work, and at the same time, they got to see me at work as well. They expressed an interest in me then, two years ago, "someday." When I decided to take a leave of absence and return to school for writing, I knew I'd have to make some money at the same time. So I mentioned this and inquired of the hospice company about whether they might have something next summer. They asked me to send in my resume and application, to have on file. In the meantime, they had an unexpected opening-- fulltime. It's all a blur after that.
I didn't read my Book of Discipline, however, the book of polity in the United Methodist Church. At first I requested a leave of absence from the UMC in 2010. However, when the job offer came up, I revised that request to be appointed to Extension Ministries. I received a call from the Bishop's secretary summoning me to the Bishop's office in Lincoln on October 5th at 9 a.m. I was not told what the nature of the meeting was nor what to expect, but that my DS would be present as well. I arrived at the office in Lincoln at 8:50 a.m. (it's the NJ part of me that always arrives early) and was escorted to a conference room with a long table. I wasn't offered anything, though a sweater would have been nice, because apparently the heat wasn't working. My DS arrived and sat two seats away from me and scribbled on a pad.
45 minutes later, at 9:35 a.m., the Bishop arrived and had invited another DS to sit in on the meeting. It was three suits and me. I was informed that what I'd done was very bad. I was informed that leaving a church mid-year, without consulting the DS and Bishop beforehand was considered "abandonment of a church" and was a "chargeable offense," which, the Bishop said, meant that she could take my ordination orders. The Cabinet, she said, wanted to take action, but she didn't want to bring charges. She said that as UM pastors, we are not allowed to make these decisions, that once we are ordained, we are accountable to the Bishop and Cabinet, and cannot make changes without consulting them first. I should have told the DS and Bishop that I was "thinking" of a career change, of Extension Ministries, before I even sought out the job. THEN, I needed to give them 90-100 days notice at the very least. What I'd done, was completely act on my own and left this "poor church without a pastor," and created quite a dilemma for the Cabinet. She repeated the "chargeable offense" thing many, many times, in case I didn't hear her. She invited me to explain myself, defend myself and jusitfy my actions. She said, too, that when I first came to Nebraska (which is actually my second time in Nebraska) four years ago, someone had said that I wasn't really committed to local church ministry at the time----oh, but she stopped herself, she "shouldn't have said that."
She chuckled when I said something about how I felt God was calling me to this position and this form of ministry, and suggested that I'd just said that I was going to get more money, that didn't sound like a calling to her. She talked about the "covenant" of UM ministry, how I have broken the covenant and acted on my own, made my own decisions. I was reminded that as UM pastors, we don't choose where we go, how much money we make, where we live, etc., we agree to go where we are "sent." I shared that I had shared with my DS a year ago that I was burnt out, that I was on medication for depression and that I didn't have the joy I once had in ministry. I shared that I made this decision because I've known pastors who committed suicide, committed sexual misconduct, exposed themselves in public places, or did other things that ended up in disaster. I was choosing to do something before it go to that point.
I was reminded that I don't make decisions about my life. I was also reminded that even if they did "bless" this endeavor of mine in hospice, that I would still be accountable to the DS and Bishop for the rest of my life. I think that was the deciding blow, the proverbial lightbulb that almost blinded me in that moment. At that moment, that felt like a life sentence-- a ball and chain-- a living death.
What I was told to do to redeem myself, and to attempt to maintain my "good standing" in the Conference, was to write a letter and fax it to them first thing in the morning. That letter was to state that I understood that what I did was wrong, that I now understand that I am a part of a covenant and am accountable to the Bishop and D.S., and that all decisions I make are to be in relation to that "covenant." I was also instructed to write it very carefully and proofread it very carefully. I was also told to "be very careful as to how I talk to other clergy about this meeting today."
I was deeply disapointed in the blatant lack of care for clergy as human beings. I left with a sense that everything I've done in 19 years of ministry was worthless, and that I had the potential of having it go on my permanant record that I was "bad." I was left with the image of myself as a rogue, rebel, as someone who just did what they did with no concern for anyone else. But they don't know who I am. They don't know about anything good I've done in ministry. They don't know what my gifts and graces are, what lives I've touched, what differences I've made. They summed me up as someone who is disobedient, to the point of deserving formal charges being brought against them. This is particularly unacceptable to me, because one of the places I was "sent" was to a church that had just had their pastor abruptly removed for sexual misconduct. I was "sent" to that church at a half-time salary, which I could not afford. The pastor who committed the misconduct repeatedly, did not lose his ordination orders. So I was being told that by making a decision for my own life and future, I did something more inexcusable than sexual misconduct.
That I could not accept. That is not who I am.
My husband Larry and I sent in our ordination papers to the Bishop the next morning, as it would be better to hand them in than to have them taken. Plus, as we expressed to the Bishop, we no longer believe in the polity and ways of doing things in the United Methodist Church. We no longer trust the relationship with them, and we certainly don't trust them with our lives.
So I am officially finished with being a professional holy person, which I must say, is not healthy for one's spiritual life. There is grief, yes. I believed that God called me to ordained ministry, and I pray that what people remember is the good I did as a pastor. However, I do strongly believe I am even more free now to serve God and God's people with compassion, mercy, and grace. My family and I will find another church to worship in. However, our relationship with the United Methodist church is too broken for us to consider worshipping under the cross and flame.
I guess I'm ReThinking Church now.
I've always joked with people that I didn't like being called "Pastor Peggy," because it sounds like you were spitting at me. Some insisted on using a title, so I tried to revert them to "Rev. Peggy," but that, too, sounded a little weird. I also didn't like it because often people would shorten it to "Pastor." And I never felt like my name was Pastor. My mother will tell you how I changed my name several tiimes in adolescence before I settled on Peggy. Just Peggy. So it feels good to get my name back, to drop the "Pastor," and be just plain Peggy again.
As many of you know, I'm starting a new job on the 19th of this month as a Bereavement Coordinator for hospice. There was a time in my life that I'd never would have dreamed of being interested in hospice simply because I didn't think I could handle it. But I've walked that valley with enough friends and parishioners, now, that I am feeling called toward that ministry of compassion and comfort.
What I did not expect in this decision-making process, was to leave the ministry entirely. I didn't see myself serving a church again in the future, simply because of the petty things that go on and have begun to overshadow the real work of the Church. I felt strongly that I "could be a better minister by not being a minister," as Ralph Waldo Emerson once said. This decision to find something else has been working on me for a long time, but I wasn't sure how marketable a Masters in Divinity would ultimately be. When my friend Karen was dying, I got to see hospice at work, and at the same time, they got to see me at work as well. They expressed an interest in me then, two years ago, "someday." When I decided to take a leave of absence and return to school for writing, I knew I'd have to make some money at the same time. So I mentioned this and inquired of the hospice company about whether they might have something next summer. They asked me to send in my resume and application, to have on file. In the meantime, they had an unexpected opening-- fulltime. It's all a blur after that.
I didn't read my Book of Discipline, however, the book of polity in the United Methodist Church. At first I requested a leave of absence from the UMC in 2010. However, when the job offer came up, I revised that request to be appointed to Extension Ministries. I received a call from the Bishop's secretary summoning me to the Bishop's office in Lincoln on October 5th at 9 a.m. I was not told what the nature of the meeting was nor what to expect, but that my DS would be present as well. I arrived at the office in Lincoln at 8:50 a.m. (it's the NJ part of me that always arrives early) and was escorted to a conference room with a long table. I wasn't offered anything, though a sweater would have been nice, because apparently the heat wasn't working. My DS arrived and sat two seats away from me and scribbled on a pad.
45 minutes later, at 9:35 a.m., the Bishop arrived and had invited another DS to sit in on the meeting. It was three suits and me. I was informed that what I'd done was very bad. I was informed that leaving a church mid-year, without consulting the DS and Bishop beforehand was considered "abandonment of a church" and was a "chargeable offense," which, the Bishop said, meant that she could take my ordination orders. The Cabinet, she said, wanted to take action, but she didn't want to bring charges. She said that as UM pastors, we are not allowed to make these decisions, that once we are ordained, we are accountable to the Bishop and Cabinet, and cannot make changes without consulting them first. I should have told the DS and Bishop that I was "thinking" of a career change, of Extension Ministries, before I even sought out the job. THEN, I needed to give them 90-100 days notice at the very least. What I'd done, was completely act on my own and left this "poor church without a pastor," and created quite a dilemma for the Cabinet. She repeated the "chargeable offense" thing many, many times, in case I didn't hear her. She invited me to explain myself, defend myself and jusitfy my actions. She said, too, that when I first came to Nebraska (which is actually my second time in Nebraska) four years ago, someone had said that I wasn't really committed to local church ministry at the time----oh, but she stopped herself, she "shouldn't have said that."
She chuckled when I said something about how I felt God was calling me to this position and this form of ministry, and suggested that I'd just said that I was going to get more money, that didn't sound like a calling to her. She talked about the "covenant" of UM ministry, how I have broken the covenant and acted on my own, made my own decisions. I was reminded that as UM pastors, we don't choose where we go, how much money we make, where we live, etc., we agree to go where we are "sent." I shared that I had shared with my DS a year ago that I was burnt out, that I was on medication for depression and that I didn't have the joy I once had in ministry. I shared that I made this decision because I've known pastors who committed suicide, committed sexual misconduct, exposed themselves in public places, or did other things that ended up in disaster. I was choosing to do something before it go to that point.
I was reminded that I don't make decisions about my life. I was also reminded that even if they did "bless" this endeavor of mine in hospice, that I would still be accountable to the DS and Bishop for the rest of my life. I think that was the deciding blow, the proverbial lightbulb that almost blinded me in that moment. At that moment, that felt like a life sentence-- a ball and chain-- a living death.
What I was told to do to redeem myself, and to attempt to maintain my "good standing" in the Conference, was to write a letter and fax it to them first thing in the morning. That letter was to state that I understood that what I did was wrong, that I now understand that I am a part of a covenant and am accountable to the Bishop and D.S., and that all decisions I make are to be in relation to that "covenant." I was also instructed to write it very carefully and proofread it very carefully. I was also told to "be very careful as to how I talk to other clergy about this meeting today."
I was deeply disapointed in the blatant lack of care for clergy as human beings. I left with a sense that everything I've done in 19 years of ministry was worthless, and that I had the potential of having it go on my permanant record that I was "bad." I was left with the image of myself as a rogue, rebel, as someone who just did what they did with no concern for anyone else. But they don't know who I am. They don't know about anything good I've done in ministry. They don't know what my gifts and graces are, what lives I've touched, what differences I've made. They summed me up as someone who is disobedient, to the point of deserving formal charges being brought against them. This is particularly unacceptable to me, because one of the places I was "sent" was to a church that had just had their pastor abruptly removed for sexual misconduct. I was "sent" to that church at a half-time salary, which I could not afford. The pastor who committed the misconduct repeatedly, did not lose his ordination orders. So I was being told that by making a decision for my own life and future, I did something more inexcusable than sexual misconduct.
That I could not accept. That is not who I am.
My husband Larry and I sent in our ordination papers to the Bishop the next morning, as it would be better to hand them in than to have them taken. Plus, as we expressed to the Bishop, we no longer believe in the polity and ways of doing things in the United Methodist Church. We no longer trust the relationship with them, and we certainly don't trust them with our lives.
So I am officially finished with being a professional holy person, which I must say, is not healthy for one's spiritual life. There is grief, yes. I believed that God called me to ordained ministry, and I pray that what people remember is the good I did as a pastor. However, I do strongly believe I am even more free now to serve God and God's people with compassion, mercy, and grace. My family and I will find another church to worship in. However, our relationship with the United Methodist church is too broken for us to consider worshipping under the cross and flame.
I guess I'm ReThinking Church now.
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