The Silly Episcopalian

 So yeah, I got married yesterday!! I am so glad I did.  I'm so glad WE did!  I have found a life partner who makes me happy, real, and loved. But I remember when we first got engaged, Mom said to me "well, it's only a 2nd marriage." and how much I bristled at that. At first I started thinking ok, I failed at the first one.  I tried so hard to love him.  I really did.  But it just didn't work.  It turned out that we both realized, after 12 years, that we were in love with being in love, and not with each other. I'm glad the both of us realized this.  I know that we are both happier. But "ONLY" a second marriage?  Why?  Why isn't it honored that we might just have learned our lessons?  That we  might understand better what we need in our lives and how to love? I remember walking down the aisle at the first marriage and being more nervous about how people liked my dress than the excitement that I was marrying that particular pers...

  Ok, friends. It's time to get political. Isn't there ENOUGH turmoil in the world? Who's gonna top this one? Who's gonna say "thoughts and prayers" and then say that it's too complicated to make it more difficult to get an assault weapon? The kid who got himself the gun legally is still not even old enough to drink by law. I'd rather see him get blasted on Natty Ice or any other drink than going and legally purchasing something that was literally made with the intent to kill. When Columbine happened, I remember getting very, very scared to teach. I was scared that these things would become commonplace. Guess what, folks? They are now! Can you name all the shootings that have happened in the last year? Yeah, I didn't think so. Last weekend someone shot up a grocery store in Buffalo. Today some asshole shot up a school and killed EIGHTEEN CHILDREN. But yeah, let's continue making sure that 18 year olds can legally buy assault weapons...

When I started working with people with developmental disabilities, I was taught very emphatically to use certain terms:  - person-first language (people with disabilities vs. disabled people) - autism spectrum (he/she is on the autism spectrum vs. he/she is autistic) ... so many more. A few years ago I had the pleasure and honor of attending a function where Temple Grandin, a very famous advocate of the autistic community, spoke about her experience as a woman with autism navigating the world now.  She told us about how she had to get used to the wireless microphone that she was wearing on her face plus the fact that her throat was a bit sore so she had to be drinking warm liquid (tea with lemon I believe?) while she was talking to us.  I remember her referring to the microphone as "this contraption" that was touching her face. What struck me, though, is her emphatic disagreement with the terminology of autism being a "spectrum."  She said that she is autistic (her...

 Holy week is MY FAVORITE THING EVER.  I get to geek out on liturgy and tradition, and thanks to my mom I enjoy all of the symbolism through it all.  Being a church musician keeps me busy in all of the best ways possible. Yesterday's vigil was awesome.  The man who chanted the Exsultet?  sublime.  I could listen to the guy sing all day every day.  PERFECT tenor.  I live for the Vigil.  It is literally my favorite night of the year.  Screw Christmas.  Screw EVERYTHING else.  The Great Vigil is my jam. This morning we got to enjoy both Byrd's "Haec Dies" and Handel's "Hallelujah."  In the Byrd, all "haec" breaks loose and we sail on a sea of polyphony.  If you count your keister off, it works.  But if you start paying attention to all of the other parts, fuggedaboudit.  6 voices is too much for this out-of-practice musician to relax.  But it sure is fun to sing and listen to afterward! But the best part o...

 I thought I'd conquered my difficulty in the whole belief and forgiveness when I finally figured out how to forgive someone who used my SSN to take out credit cards in their name.  Then I wound up having to open my home to the very last person on earth that I'd want to. I'm not comfortable with them in my house because of their recent criminal record.  I feel fiercely protective of my little family, and the tiniest bit of something that I wouldn't trust is not welcome in my home. Then I was challenged. "[X] will be coming to visit tonight." I had already articulated that I didn't want [X] to know where I lived, let alone be in my home.  [X] is someone for whom I have very little regard for many reasons -- mostly because of [X] hurting people that I love. Then I was on a drive to my hair dresser's, about 1/2 hour away. (I have the luxury of most of my life's conveniences being within 15 minutes from home.)  I had time to think about the idea of [X]...

 Yesterday some things were said out of defensiveness and anger, not entirely directed at me, but those things have cut me so deeply that I'm having trouble smiling at all today.  I feel like my world has just crumbled... or at the least a piece of my heart was made brittle and it was broken through. Or did I actually build a wall around myself to protect my sensitivity?  And did a piece of mortar fall out amongst the stones where those words could enter and shock and hurt so deeply? Or was it that I took down my wall for this person and allowed myself to be hurt? I almost think it's the last. If it is the last, then how can I keep myself from building up walls?  Should I allow myself to be hurt?  What happens if I am hurt again?  Will I scar?  If I scar, what will happen? intense fragility.

It has been almost a month of avoiding doing what I said I'd do when the Quarantine began. I've been disobeying the rules and going places every once in a while just so I can see all the things we expected to need by now. I'm not reading enough, I'm not writing enough, I'm not exercising enough. Instead I'm lounging too much I'm eating too much I'm drinking too much. Today I learned that the blessings I have might not be anymore. I don't want to look at all the things we thought of as normal as poignant curiosities anymore. All I want is to lie still -- still enough that the Horror can't find me. c.2020 EMM "chuchotement" is French for a whisper

I have everything I wanted. I am free, my wings are stretching. Yet I grieve. I longed for this for so long. I am obliged to no one -- only myself -- and yet I grieve. I have what I've craved. My legs can walk anywhere I want to go. still I grieve. My fetters are gone, but so is my shelter. My curfew is gone, but so is the care that I'm home safe. This I grieve. I am free and filled with possibility. Yet still -- still I grieve.

Sadly I have gone through a divorce.  I hold absolutely no acrimony toward my ex-husband, and I am glad that I met him.  It has been amicable the whole time, and yesterday morning I was told that I could pick up the signed papers any time. Ex was going to be in the area today, so we went to pick up the papers together and file them.  It took a little bit of a maze because I don't remember where in the world things are in the county buildings.  But we got to the right places. And then we went to the clerk and filed the papers, and with a signature, it was done. 11 years (almost) of marriage, dissolved with a signature.  My signature. I have treasured these 11 years in so many ways.  I have learned so much, experienced so much that I never would have if not for meeting J.  I know how to do so many things.  I can even hang drywall if I am careful and have the right folks with me who are strong enough to hold things in place.  I have hike...

Once upon a time, I was in music school, and I was the happiest girl in the world, laughing constantly and running around. People said to me "I wouldn't want to live in your dorm!" No one knew where I lived. In fact, I once startled the heck out of someone while coming out of my room because she (and others) thought that no one lived there. This past Monday night during a staff retreat, my superintendent commented about my endless supply of energy. I told him that once I hit the pillow I'm asleep. After dinner I went to the pool and hung out with a colleague who's pretty quiet and even went into the hot tub (not my thing but it was still fun with her!). After a while, though, I was done. I needed my shower and my Kreuzworträtsel (crossword puzzles -- I just like the German term) and quiet and my sleep. I think it was early, but it had been a REALLY intense day. My "endless energy" lasts about 8-10 hours and then i get... done. ...

I was under a flat sheet and the air conditioner was blaring.  The TV had some kind of crime documentary -- the ones from late 80's to early 90's -- on in the background.  There were no other lights.  As I dozed in and out of basically a giant nap, I heard the TV but didn't really comprehend it.  I didn't remember the last time I'd taken a shower, and I didn't care.  Thinking to use the right soap product on the right part of me was a hurdle that was far too high to jump.  Had breathing been voluntary, I probably wouldn't have been able to continue it.  I thought about being a newborn and craved it: all I would need was taken care of for me.  All I had to think about was sleeping and eating.  I didn't have to manage anything -- I could just be.   I kept trying to reenact it -- all I had to do was rest.  I wish I had remembered it.  It sounded like such luxury, such peace.  I hated waking up.  I just wanted to sleep....

Today marks the beginning of the Triduum: the three most holy days of the church year.  And I LOVE these three days every year. Maundy Thursday kicks it off with a Eucharist followed by the stripping of the altar and reading the 22nd Psalm: My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?      Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning? 2  O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer;      and by night, but find no rest. 3  Yet you are holy,      enthroned on the praises of Israel. 4  In you our ancestors trusted;      they trusted, and you delivered them. 5  To you they cried, and were saved;      in you they trusted, and were not put to shame. 6  But I am a worm, and not human;      scorned by others, and despised by the people. 7  All who see me mock at me;      they mak...

I'm reading The Grapes of Wrath  right now.  I'm still early on, but I love it so far.  I decided that I need to do a lot more reading, and I definitely want to make it "significant" reading.  I was supposed to read this in an English class in high school, but I either BS-ed my way through it or just didn't remember it. Anyway: I'm at the point where Tom and Casy (the former preacher) arrive at the Joad family's home just as they are packing to go to California.  The family is sitting down to dinner and Granma finds out that a preacher has traveled there with Tom, and she demands a grace before dinner.  Casy explains that he's not a preacher anymore, but Granma still insists.  And so this happens: ... And on the preacher's face there was a look not of prayer, but of thought; and in his tone not supplication, but conjecture. "I been thinkin," he said.  "I been in the hills, thinkin', almost you might say like Jesus went into...

Hosanna! I love that word.  It's not something that we transfer to colloquial/secular speech as we do with "alleluia."  But it's still a joyful shout.  Plus it's appropriate for us to say it during Lent. Hosanna! Palm Sunday is the day where we get to sing it and shout it and enjoy it! The order of service is different: start with a Gospel reading, then procession, then open the rest of the mass up, and read the Passion during what would be the "normal" Gospel time. I always thought of the Passion as this HUGE reading that we all had to slog through, and most people stop concentrating about halfway through it.  We've all heard it before, said the "crucify him" responses, etc.  Got through the marathon of it and boom, mass continued.  Today the Passion was split into 2 readings.  I liked it that way because it was in more manageable chunks; helps me digest it better AND ponder it more deeply. I'd never been to St. Stephen...

Ash Wednesday marks my very favorite time of the year: Lent.  Most people think I'm kind of weird for this, but it really truly is my favorite time.  A time of contemplation, a time for renewal and preparation.  This is it! Most people know me as bubbly, outgoing, and a chatterbox (understatement of the year).  When I meet someone friendly I'm so excited to meet someone that I usually can't shut up until they're sick of me.  I love meeting new people, making music with people, and having a good laugh. So most people are pretty surprised that my favorite time of day in elementary school was when we did silent reading after lunch.  I LOVED it.  I was surrounded by quiet people, and we were all just... there.  I didn't have to worry about stopping while I was ahead in the talking game. It was the same reason that I did my homework in the library in college.  People were there, and I didn't have to worry about conversation and how much I re...

A couple of weeks ago, I had the opportunity to go to the celebration of ministry for a friend of mine.  A celebration of ministry is basically the official liturgical welcome of a new rector to the parish.  My friend has been rector there quite a while, but as life often gets in the way, it took a while to get to the actual celebration.  But no matter -- she deserves celebration every day, as she is an absolutely superior priest. The first time I met her I was on a team for Cursillo, and she was one of the priests on board.  I thought of her as a rather nice lady and enjoyed her personality and her reverence for saying mass.  During a Cursillo team meeting, it almost always either ends or has a Eucharist at some point.  As musician of the team, I stood next to her at one of them, and we always hold hands to say the Lord's prayer.  So there I was holding her hand, and I felt this enormous umbrella (of sorts) come over me, and suddenly I was there, cr...