A.D. 1958

Well, here we are. Today is really the beginning of the end, so this will be my last post until I get settled in the new place. As Mrs. Ref said, "We need to pack like fiends [today]." The remaining stuff is being boxed up today; phone/internet and cable are being cancelled tomorrow, so the computer and tv's are being boxed up; dishes are being packed; those last few things that didn't have a home are also being packed; clothes are being whittled down to only what we need for two weeks and the rest are being boxed up; and we need to clean as best we can.

Tomorrow will probably consist of our last load of laundry here, some last minute cleaning, picking up the rental car, loading up and finalizing any really last minute issues before we leave for Montana early Thursday morning.

It's been an experience. Often good, sometimes troubling, encompassing new life to death and everything inbetween. There's lots to do in this town, Chicago, and we didn't get to do it all. It's a great place to visit, but three years is a little too long of a visit for me. I do appreciate the experience: sights I've seen, friends I've made, issues examined, apologies offered and accepted, and basically everything in general.

But it's time for the curtain to come down on this Act. There will be a brief intermission and scenery change as we get ready for Act IV.

"And so, my friends, we'll say goodnight,
for time has claimed his prize,
but tonight can always last,
as long as we keep alive,
the mem'ries of Paradise."

BORROWED TIME

Here's the problem with staying on the block too long: The grounds crew starts to make summer repairs. On the surface, that wouldn't be a bad thing. But that's the problem, the surface. Or rather, the floor. Our apartment building has tiled floor. I'm willing to bet that the tile we have now is the same tile that was laid when the building was constructed. It's gotten so bad that it's starting to look like one of those puzzle where you have one empty square and move the rest around to complete the puzzle.

Today is the day they decided to lay new tile. In my building. Outside my door. "Help, they're laying new tile and I can't get out!" Unfortunately, The Kid can't get in either. We had to make her lunch and then throw it at her one Ziploc baggy at a time.

The other fun part is that I need to go sign some papers in the business office. "Um, sorry, but I can't get out of my apartment." This is almost as good as the time that a former student called me at 9 pm and said, "We're locked IN our apartment."

So here we sit. Needing to run errands, but unable to. Needing more boxes to finish packing, but can't get out. Needing to do all kinds of things, but stuck for the moment.

JUST GET THROUGH THIS NIGHT

We did the dinner thing last night at Jane's place. Her husband was pitting cherries for a dessert pie, and she and Mrs. Ref went to the sewing room to work on some shorts for The Kid. Dinner consisted of beer brauts, slow-cooked sliced potatoes with a special sauce and -- I think -- bacon (very yummy), and fruit salad. It was a good time and, after fighting Chicago traffic because of the Taste, we got home around 11:30.

This morning we got ourselves to church one last time. It was good. The associate rector asked me to help serve communion bread, and we got to see several people that we either weren't able to see previously, or had a chance for one last goodbye. During the service I leaned over and told Mrs. Ref, "That lady in the blue, in front of us looks alot like Alice from St. David's (the parish we attended from 1986 to 1998)." She thought so too, and then during the Peace it turned out that she was. Kind of wild. What made it even more weird for me was that I had come across two people from that same parish at the Chicago ordinations last week. After service, The Kid went with one of her friends for an all-day party. She will be home sometime tonight. It was a good day.

After service, Jane came up here and helped Mrs. Ref pack up The Kid's room -- always better to do that when she isn't around. It was nice to have her help, and great to be able to spend the day with a good friend before we disappear into the Wild Wild West. But like I told her, with e-mail, IM, and blogging, it'll be like we never left. As for packing, the living room is almost finished, The Kid's bedroom is practically finished, the office is finished, my room will be worked on tomorrow and Wednesday; by which time EVERYTHING must be done because we leave here early Thursday for the drive west.

Things are coming along. It'll be good to finally get off the block, into our new place, and start life in our new communities. This inbetween time is not alot of fun.

But then, isn't that where we live as Christians anyway? In that inbetween time of the already but not yet. Already in that we know "Christ has died, Christ has risen." But "Christ will come again" hasn't yet happened. So we live in this uncomfortable inbetween time. The problem is that we've been living here for quite awhile, so we have become comfortable with it and treat it as "normal." It's time's like these, when I have a job but nowhere to yet, when I know when I'm going but not sure when my stuff will arrive, that reminds me of how I really should feel -- uncomfortable in the position we are, and eager to make the "not yet" a reality.

I hope I can do as well with that thought in my new ministry.

HAVIN' A BALL

Wow, it's been awhile I guess. For starters, let's talk about the move. The diocese approved the move with Atlas Van Lines, so that was a good thing. It was also kind of nice because I was able to give the move to the company that I used to work for, as well as still having a bunch of my stuff in storage from when we moved to SWTS. Then I also found out that the diocese will cover the full cost of the move. That's really good news. So that was Tuesday.

The rest of the week I spent packing up the office. It really is amazing how much garbage and useless stuff you (or I) can cram into one small room. But I got all of my books and other sundry things packed up and ready for the move. I even managed to separate what needs to go with me and what needs to go with the moving company.

And that's another story. Because I was out of town getting diaconated, and the business manager was out of town on vacation, nothing got organized with the moving companies (see previous post). So the soonest anyone could get our stuff was July 6. We have a pickup window of July 6-8, and a delivery window of July 8-16. So we are renting a car and packing it with everything we need for two weeks, then caravaning to MT. Woo hoo.

Then Tripp calls me up and says, "Hey, you want to make some money moving my fiance's voice instructor from Michigan to Chicago?" I'm all for making money, especially right before I might actually need the cash. So we went to Muskegon, MI on Thursday. Loaded up a U-Haul Thursday and Friday, then I drove it back to Chicago, dutifully following Tripp through city streets I never knew existed until we got to our final destination.

The best part of the move: We managed to get a 29-7/8" desk out of her basement and up a 30" stairwell with minimal damage. And nobody got injured.

This upcoming weekend, Mrs. Ref, The Kid, and I are going down to Jane's for dinner. We are also picking up packing peanuts for our own packing. Sunday Jane is coming up to our place to help pack. Should be interesting. Especially since she's a pretty good player of "Toss or Keep" (that moving game where you decide if you want keep something or toss it away).

Then there's the house. As you are all aware of, I have two parishes: one in Virginia City (VC), and one in Sheridan. The senior warden of VC has told me that the house is coming along and should be ready for us by the time we get there. The senior warden for Sheridan has said it may not be done, we might need to get you a motel room for a week. Hmmm. I guess we'll find out when we get there.

And finally, we've got a bunch of people that have decided that this might be the last time they will ever see us again, so they are all trying to fit time into our already packed schedule. Saturday it's Jane, Sunday it's a baby shower, Monday . . . can't remember but there's gotta be something, Tuesday it's either Tripp or some friends from St. A's (or both??), Wednesday's another Monday, and Thursday . . . well, Thursday we leave. What a hectic last week to our time at SWTS.

All right troops, I need to close out for the night. Hope all is well in your world.

GREAT EXPECTATIONS

I heard twice from Montana today. That's a good thing. The first message said that they had a crew and were working to get the rectory in shape for us. That means that we actually have a place to go to, since looking for a rental house in Sheridan was turning up nothing. It may not be 100% ready by the time we get there, but it'll be in better shape than when we first saw it, and it will be livable.

The second message came from the diocesan office. They answered several of my questions about the contract, some better than others. But I still haven't heard back as to which moving company they will approve. That's information that I need today, so I'm expecting to hear from them . . . SOON.

But . . . WE HAVE A HOUSE TO MOVE TO!!!! That just changes the whole attitude around here. Packing now starts in earnest.

MADEMOISELLE

Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there. Some trivia you may not know: Father's Day was started in my hometown of Spokane in the early part of the 20th century.

So it's Dad's day and I made pancakes for the family. The Kid wanted a Beany Baby Teddy Bear who is wearing something like a kimono and has a rose on its head. Not bad, except Mrs. Ref pointed out that I forgot its ears and should've made a bear nose instead of a smiley face. I realize regular art is subject to criticism, but these are pancakes for heaven's sake!

Mrs. Ref requested the Eiffel Tower; something about the French and Paris being the City of Love. No complaints on that one, just smiles from my mademoiselle.

I've had people ask me, "So what do you make for yourself?" To be honest, by the time I get around to making mine my creativity is pretty much tapped out -- not to mention that I'm hungry. I go for the basic circle everytime.

Enough dilly dallying for today -- I need to continue packing up the office for the as-yet-undetermined-move.

Peace

HALLELUJAH CHORUS

Today was the ordination of six deacons in Chicago: Sandra Castillo, Mary Tudela, Gwynne Wright (all classmates); Robert Wyatt (a kind of classmate from Junior year); Elaine Caldbeck (think I got that one right, she's been around SWTS working on this and that); and Jacqueline somebody-I-don't-know.

It was your basic ordination service and went very smoothly. It was nice to see some old friends from SWTS, as well as a few classmates whom I didn't think I would see again (Heather and The Rev. Dr. Fulton). Mrs. Ref had to work today, so she missed it, and The Kid wanted to sleep in: "I saw yours, I don't need to go to another one."

And, surprise surprise surprise, I ran into two people who used to attend church with me and the Mrs. back in Spokane. Apparently there really are only 300 Episcopalians in the world and we all keep running into each other.

That about sums up the day. And I would like to point out to Tripp that "Hallelujah Chorus" did appear on a Styx album; but then, he already knew that.

Peace

SANCTITY OF MARRIAGE?

Okay, I'll admit it: In the world of instant news, this is old stuff. But still, it got me thinking. Conservative icon Rush Limbaugh is getting his third divorce. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought the conservative position on marriage was one man-one woman-until death do us part.

Is there any kind of conservative backlash about the evils of multiple marriages? Or about how marriage must be taken more seriously and that this kind of thing can't be tolerated? Or that this behavior is an affront to the "sanctity of marriage"? Or that he's being excommunicated from his denomination for living a life contrary to scripture?

And on the other end of the spectrum, are the liberals refraining from gloating over this incident?

I'm having a little trouble coming to terms with the whole gay marriage thing. If for no other reason than that marriage is indeed defined as an act between one man and one woman (or, at least biblically, between men and women, actual numbers may vary). Do I think that we should recognize the union of a gay couple? Yes, I do. But for me it's the semantics of it all, at least when it comes to marriage.

One of the things that I think gay unions does is that it forces heterosexuals to consider the implication of marriage. In a society where long marriages are anything over ten years, and where "trial" marriages are becoming chic -- and that's not even counting people like Liz Taylor, Mickey Rooney, Lisa Marie Presley, David Letterman and a host of other stars -- the debate over gay marriages/unions has the possibility to make heterosexual couples say, "No gay marriage is going to outlast mine." And regardless of the motivation, isn't that what everyone would hope for: a marriage that lasts a lifetime?

Now I'm not getting into situations of abuse or other valid reasons for divorce, so don't go there. I'm simply saying that in the best possible world, marriage lasts a lifetime. And if gay marriage has that effect on heterosexual marriages, that's fine by me.

So Rush isn't perfect afterall. But neither is anyone else, despite what the AAC and the Anglican Communion in the Global South are saying. I invite Rush, and others like him, to join the Episcopal Church. Come pray with us, worship with us, confess with us, eat with us, and talk with us. We're listening.

Instant thought for a new sign outside my two parishes:
ECUSA -- Sinners Welcome.

TOO MUCH TIME ON MY HANDS

Hey, it's summer. I never thought I'd quote Alice Cooper, but school's out forever!! I'm trying to get ready for the move to Montana. Just a few problems with that: 1) Not sure when I can get a moving company here to do it; 2) not sure if the diocese will cover it; 3) I'm dead broke; 4) not sure where we're going to live. Did I mention I'm stressed? Beginning to wonder why I got into this business anyway. Drug my family 2/3 of the way across the country, quit jobs that paid decent, didn't have creditors calling me every 20 minutes.

Ah, but I digress. In one of those in-between times of it's too late to start a new project, I was cruising around the blogiverse, updating my site and other sundry things, and came across this. Go ahead, waste your time, it's rather amusing.

I did have something important to say, but it's since evaporated from my brain. And for you Styx fans, I'll make it a twofer when I keep telling myself: Relax, take it easy.

THE REST OF THE STORY

The basics: Fly to Seattle, go to a funeral, drive to Spokane, meet with the bishop, get ordained, go to church, drive to Seattle, fly home. Remember that "roller coaster week" I alluded to a few posts down? Well, it kept going.

My funeral post immediately precedes this, so I won't go into that. The drive across the state was uneventful and we got ourselves settled into the guest room that our friends let us use.

On Friday The Kid went to school for her friend's last day, one of those two-hour-days-that-is-only-good-for-counting-hours-for-our-legal-records thing. While she was doing that, Mrs. Ref and I headed up to the cathedral and diocesan office respectively. She has been practicing the carrillon for about a year and was going to play a few songs for my ordination. Very cool. I had a meeting with the bishop.

The meeting was good. Paul, the other ordinand was there, and we talked about all kinds of stuff ranging from seminary to COM experiences, to expectations, to the ordination service itself. We had a little prayer service in the bishops chapel and generally had a calm hour before the flurry of activities really started.

That night we invited all of our out-of-town guests to have dinner with us at a local restaurant. Not everybody showed up, but it didn't matter. Those who made it had a good time.

I found out at my meeting with the bishop that they changed the propers from those of an ordination to those of St. Barnabas, whose feast day was June 11. This meant that the NT lesson The Kid had been practicing was different. Did I mention that she doesn't do change very well? Minor crisis at home which included some near tears, a plea either get a new reader or reprint all of the ordos with the lesson she knew, and a very restrained dad who managed to keep his cool better than expected.

On Saturday we headed up to the cathedral for practice. Figured out where we were all to be seated, stand, move, etc etc. I was very pleased to see that all of my presenters were there on time, as well as my mother and the litanist, whom I had invited over from Vancouver, WA. The Kid practiced her reading with the microphone and stumbled just a bit, but did fine.

The service itself was grand. Both sets of presenters managed to stay in sync, and so did the ordinands. During the Psalm, the verger came to our pew, leaned over and said, "Ms. Ref, are you ready?" And he led The Kid up to the lectern where she promptly disappeared behind it. At only 4'8", even the step didn't make her tall enough. And she read well. It was the only part of the service where I cried, proud papa that I was. In case you are wondering, she read Acts 11:19-30; 13:1-3.

Paul and I both set the table for communion. It was a little odd doing that, but we worked it out rather well. Our mothers were the oblationers, so that was cool. He and I had previously decided that we would serve communion to our own family; however, as a new deacon, when someone says, "Follow me," you follow. So Paul served my family and I served his. Reflecting back on that, it was really pretty cool.

The Diocese of Spokane is committed to being more inclusive of Spanish-speaking people. So the gospel was read in both languages and the dismissal was done in both languages. Paul did the Spanish version and I did the English version. After the dismissal and procession out, Paul and I stood and greeted everyone as they headed out of the church to the reception. Mrs. Ref went up the bell tower and played the carrillon one more time.

Pictures galore, enough mingling to drive an introvert batty, and lots of well-wishes. From there we proceeded to my friend Jan's house where she hosted a less formal reception. More family and friends, and three people from my days at Whitworth were there. That made my day. I gathered them all around and said, "After service, I changed into my jeans and tenny's. That's ALL I changed." I proceeded to take my clerical shirt off to reveal my Witworth Cohort V Shut-Up-And-Color t-shirt, which I wore during ordination. Very Cool. And lots of fun.

Sunday we went to my former home parish for the last time. Let's just say that "former parish" is a good description.

Monday we drove back to Seattle, did laundry, and packed for the flight home. Tuesday we flew back to Chicagoland, unpacked, and wound down. Today will include the writing of many thank you notes, some house cleaning, talking with Montana about the details of the new job, and maybe some packing.

All in all, it was a good trip. Thanks for all of your thoughts and prayers.

REVISIONIST HISTORY

So we flew into Seattle last week and went immediately to the funeral of my great-uncle Carl. Nice guy, but because of distance and what not I wasn't really able to spend alot of time with him. It was a basic memorial at a funeral home. With apologies to Heather, sometimes rambling isn't all it's cracked up to be. When asked what I thought of the service, I said, "It made me glad I have a liturgy to follow."

After the memorial, we drove out to the National Cemetery. Uncle Carl was a WWII vet, fought in several battles including the Battle of the Bulge. He never really talked about that, and it's easy to understand why. He spent the rest of his life talking about the good things he was doing, rather than the bad things he experienced.

So he got a military funeral and a 12-gun salute. It was good, and the cemetery is gorgeous. The speaker said something I'm sure is standard fair for these things: "Carl fought to protect this country. He served with honor. He earned the right to be buried in this place."

But then he said that revisionist historians were trying to take away what made this country great, that they were trying to reduce the importance of what we fought for. Hmmm.

I got to thinking about that. I suppose that if you were in a position of power, and fought to protect that power, you would consider the current historical trend "revisionist." And not just revisionist, but revisionist with a sneer and disdain for what threatens your past. Which is just what this particular gentleman was doing.

But is it "revisionist" to admit to, and include, your entire history? The history that includes such great events as the Boston Tea Party, the Revolutionary War, the Corps of Discovery and the Industrial Revolution that ultimately made this country an international superpower should be tempered with events such as Native American genocide, land theft, land rape (look at my future home state), slavery, child labor and racism. That's not revisionist, that's honesty.

History is all of it. The good, the bad and the ugly (apologies to Sergio and Clint). If our only history consists of the pretty and gentle things, then we need to spend a whole lot of time and effort trying to keep them clean. On the other hand, if we include all of it, the good alongside our dirty little secrets, then we can afford to be honest with ourselves and others around us. It's called "authenticity." Something my bishop advised me to be during my ministry.

Authenticity. Something each person should strive to be. Something our political leadership should work towards. Something that, ultimately, garners more respect than a highly polished story created by the victors.

AND DONE AGAIN

Just a quick post to let you all know how things went. We arrived in Spokane on Thursday. Friday I met with the bishop and the other ordinand to talk about the service, pray, and stuff in general. Mrs. Ref practiced the carrillon since she was going to play one or two selections immediately before and after the service.

Got back to the place we were staying and the cathedral office called saying the the regular carrilloner (sp?) left for a family emergency and would Mrs. Ref play during the entire weekend. Ummm . . . no. She was terrified of "flying solo," so to speak, but she did a great job.

The service went well and Paul and I got diaconated.

Best part of the service: Having my daughter read the NT lesson (more on that later).

Best ordination gift: A can of Miller beer, a package of Camel cigarettes and some Calgon (for when things get tough).

Favorite memory: Having a post-ordination reception at the home of a fellow Whitworth student and seeing family and friends.

Much much more to tell, but I'm beat, need to finish laundry so we can pack for the trip back to Chicago.

More later

THIS IS IT

We are all heading home this morning for my ordination on Saturday. I would say we are getting out of here at o'dark:30, but with the sunrise I'll just say its early. The other two women in my life my violently disagree.

Anyway, the plan is to be diaconated on Saturday and back here Tuesday to (hopefully) start getting things finalized for the Montana gig.

Wish us well.

THIS IS PARING DOWN?

For those of you who don't know, Mrs. Ref purchased a couch-thing for the bedroom while I made my first trip to Montana. It's a cute little two-seat deal, arm rests big enough to lay books on and drawers on each side. She had some excuse about upgrading the look of the room, and it will be great in our new place (wherever that may be). Besides, it was only $20.

I'll admit, it is cute, and it gives me someplace to store keys, wallet, watch, change etc so that they don't get lost. But buying a piece of furniture before we moved didn't make me too terribly happy. We aren't supposed to be collecting more stuff while here -- except for books, of course.

Apparently, there is such a thing as Divine Justice. We went to change the sheets on our bed last night and found that one of the water tubes sprung a leak without our knowing it. And not recently. And with the heat and humidity that we've experienced, the bed is ruined. I was even less happy about this than I was about the purchase Mrs. Ref made in the opening paragraph.

But, as she pointed out, that's one less thing we have to move. Always looking on the bright side, that one.

GAME 7

There are not two more emotional words in all of sports than those. Game 7. The end. Someone wins it all, and someone put up a heck of a fight.

The improbable Calgary Flames battled as best they could, but came up two goals short to the Tampa Bay Lightning. It was a fantastic series.

But now, on the edge of an NHL lockout, it looks like Lord Stanley's Cup will remain in the Deep South where ice used to be something you put in a mint julip for far too long.

Sorry Canada, I was pulling for your team this time.

AND SO IT BEGINS

Two years ago I started CPE. Last year I moved to Walla Walla for a summer internship at St. Paul's. This year . . . This year feels alot like when I first arrived at SWTS. I have nothing to do except get ready for my next adventure. Three years ago I was setting up shop. This year, I'm closing down shop.

I need to finish the morning dishes and do the laundry. And then . . . and then I need to start packing up. I need to focus on the office. All of those theology, liturgy, scripture and history books need to come off the shelves and into boxes. Final class notes need to be organized and packed. I keep telling myself, "The more I do now, the less stressful it will be when The Big Day Finally Arrives."

Oh yeah, I also need to start getting ready for the trip home so that I can get diaconated. That happens in two days, so I can't procrastinate too much. We fly out of here Wednesday and upon our arrival in Seattle immediately attend the funeral of an old uncle. Then on Thursday we drive to Spokane. Friday is a meeting with my current bishop, and Mrs. Ref needs to practice on the carrillon (she's playing at the ordination service). Saturday is the BIG EVENT. Saturday night is a reception at a friends place with other family and friends. Sunday is . . . I don't know. I think I'll go to church. It might be the last time I visit it as an actual member of that congregation. Monday we drive back to Seattle. Tuesday we fly back to Chicagoland.

And THEN I start talking with Montana about the specifics of this new job -- when, how & how much come immediately to mind. Mrs. Ref leaves her job on the 21st, so there's a little bit of nervousness there.

Well, now that I've pretified this post with all kinds of cool links and pictures, I should probably get to work. Please keep me and all the SWTS graduates in your prayers as we prepare to move on.

To Whom It May Concern:

I wouldn't trade our time together for anything.

Thank you for coming into my life.

I will miss you.

Keep in touch.

DONE

Well, the SWTS Seniors of 2004 got themselves graduated. It was truly a wonderful service. Memories of past struggles and successes abounded. Friends new and old wept for joy and sadness in the same breath. Tears intermingled with laughter. Congratulations and best wishes were offered with a sincerity not often seen. Hugs were more plentiful than handshakes, but not necessarily more sentimental.

"We are done," was the refrain of the day. We are done with school, but not learning. We are done as classmates, but not as friends. We are done as seminarians, but not with formation. We are done with the roller-coaster week that began with Awards Night, that rose and fell as final assignments were stressed over and completed; friendships were strengthened, or begun; and relief was tempered by the terror of living the rest of our lives as priests.

"We are done." The finality of that phrase is the balm that lets us enjoy our accomplishments, reflect on our past three years together, and yet realize that it only applies to today. For tomorrow starts new careers for some of us, ordination ceremonies for many of us, uncertainty for a few of us. But for now, we are done.

We are done.

We are done.

We are done.

Amen and Peace be with you.

We are done.

ALL . . . MOST . . . THERE

My theology group presented our project today. We had to come up with a unified statement regarding the election, approval and ordination of Gene Robinson to the episcopate. It was an interesting exercise, and one that I'm sure I will take with me into my future parishes.

That was my LAST assignment as a SWTS student!!

Yesterday was a good day. Not only did I turn in final papers for practicum and Genesis classes, but the seniors were officially inducted into the alumni/ae society. We got nifty cool bookmarks, a certificate suitable for framing or wrapping fish (those of you who read MAD will understand), and a plunger -- just in case something needs to be fixed.

Last night I played a bizarre little game called Blockus with Heather, Jane & Si. Something about matching up colored tiles but only diagonally. Jane and Si ended up at my place for some conversation; Si leaving around 1 and Jane leaving about 2:45. It was nice to just talk about stuff without worrying about homework. I think the word "done" was used multiple times.

However, I'm not as young as I used to be and am in serious need of a LONG LONG sleep.

The Kid has a tooth I need to take out tonight. For some odd reason, I've always enjoyed losing and pulling teeth. Nothing in the world feels like that freshly vacated space of a lost tooth. The Kid, however, doesn't see it that way. She was complaining about it tonight, so I look and the thing is flopping around like a gear shift in neutral. It's coming out tonight.

Commencement rehearsal is tomorrow down at St. Lukes, and then the real thing on Friday. Then it's time to work on cleaning and packing the house, and packing for the trip home to get holified. Hope it sticks.

Peace,

CHANGES

Those of you regular visitors will notice some substantial changes. Since all my homework is in, I thought I would take some time before I got busy with graduation.

First, I've ordained all of the seniors (not really them, but it's a cool picture of someone's ordination). Then, I've graduated the middlers and juniors, as well as added Mitch. I've rearranged the order of links -- don't be offended, it's an alphabetical thing (INTJ). I've also linked to my new hometown and new diocese.

Now it's time for dinner,
Peace

THE END IS NEAR

I've always wanted to say that. In this case it would be true. I'm finishing up my last week of seminary. It's been a strange and magical and mysterious and obnoxious and trying time, but I'm done. I finished up my part of a theology presentation yesterday night, and now just need my group's input and make the presentation. Other than that, my Genesis paper is turned in, my Practicum paper is turned in, and my books are out of the chapel.

Eight years ago I talked with a priest about going into the ordained ministry. I spent two years getting my AA, two years getting my BA, a year putting everything in order for seminary, and three years at SWTS getting my M.Div (not to mention dragging my family 2/3 of the way across the country). I'm walking out of here with a degree and $75,000 worth of debt. Yee Haw.

On the bright side, I get ordained to the diaconate in just over a week and I have a job.

Truth be told, I will miss this place. SWTS isn't perfect, but it's perfectly here. I will miss my classmates as we scatter about the country. I will miss faculty who have helped mold me. I will miss staff who have simply been here. I will miss the middlers and juniors whom I have come to know. And I will miss those people whom I should have gotten to know sooner. But right now, I will enjoy my last days of seminary and look forward to graduation.

Peace