Murphy's Law in today's world

My boss has a love/hate relationship with his laptop. They don't speak the same language and they live on slightly different planes. I enjoy watching the back and forth of it all. Cheap entertainment sometimes. .. Bottom line is that the computer does not understand how my boss thinks. If it did, the world would be a better place. Come on , Mr. Gates, get with the program, will you? Vista schmista, how about creating a mind body connection between humans and laps?

The two challengers are having trust issues, I can tell. Time will make it better, patience will reign , they both haven't quite figured each other out yet. My boss tries to understand the prompts, and the laptop tries to second guess the Pastor.

Just last week, Murphy's law kicked in. My boss called me in to see if I knew how to delete a collection of messages as opposed to deleting one at a time. I was relieved to finally be given a question I thought I could answer. whew. phew. sighhhh.

He showed me how he had been getting rid of old messages, unwanted advertisements, etc.. He looked so miserable deleting one message at a time that my heart went out to him. He said, "I've been at this for quite a while and there are still soooo many to go- I don't have time for this. I have souls to save, sermons to share, people and places to bless."

Yes, he was hurtin' pretty bad. Slo -mo does that to him. He's a get -up -and- go creative sort.

I watched and I pondered. He chose a message and then it seemed as if the laptop took its time deciding if the Pastor REALLY wanted to throw the message overboard. Sometimes it cooperated in a timely fashion , and sometimes it ignored the signal to delete. After a few minutes, I couldn't take it anymore.

" So, how long have you been at this?"
" A half hour at least"
" Gosh, boss, there are a lot left, or it looks like it from here. "
" Yeah, I'm still looking at 6,000"
" 6,000? are you kidding me? Like, 6 0-0-0-? OMG!! Why have you saved so many messages?"
" Well, I just didn't want to delete something I needed."
" Okay, well it will take you a full lectionary year to delete all of those , one by one so let's try this"
I right clicked and the laptop showed- 'delete all? Are you SURE you want to delete ALL???? Seriously? Really, Pastor?'

I said, "There you go- just push okay and you're done."
I walked away, leaving him to delete on his own.
I took a few steps closer to the door.
" Okay, I'm doing it." ...Did his voice have a hint of quiver in it?
I kept walking.
" Okay, I'm REALLY doing it."
I heard the familiar sound of keystroke in G major as I reached the door and stepped into the hallway..................Then, " Oh Wait!!! I think there's one I needed!! Church chick , church chick, can you get them back????"

I maintained my steady pace, moved into my office and gently closed the door.
It is the most creative souls who are tortured so and on this day, my boss butted heads with Mr. Murphy's Law himself. In the techno- flesh.

The power of just being

Churches are the catch -all for life. They hold onto the pain that is too great for the human form to maintain, and they set free the binding knots of suffering. Churches look like buildings, but if you will recall "Here is the church, here is the steeple, open the door and see all the people", then you already know that the building is a mere shell. Some bigger, maybe more elaborate than others... A shell nonetheless. When we enter the church, carrying our burdens and sorrows, our weeping wounds, the people inside the church become a part of all of that with us. It's called community. Even when we don't care to share, we do anyway because we are surrounded by the love God has given us for one another. Breaking up the big bad picture into smaller ones can sometimes help. Sometimes we notice the difference, sometimes our pain is so great we don't, but community and love do help on some level all the same whether we consciously share or not.

This is not to say that churches deal only with madness, and mahem. The church life is full of celebrations as well. Babies, weddings, all of life's celebrations are intertwined with all of life's hell- on- earth moments. Somewhere in there is a balance. Well, let's hope so.

The Pastor is usually the leader who fills us up regularly with God's words of love and sends us out into the world to share goodness in life. The Pastor is who we cry for when our world is crashing around us, when we cannot bear another moment of being human. Sometimes, our most trusted leaders and spiritual mentors offer us kind words. Sometimes we are given a tidbit from God's book to hold onto.

Most of the time, though, I have found the power of healing in Pastoral care has come from a Pastor's ability to listen. I know a few who excel at that art. They listen, intently, and look deep inside us and somehow, it helps. It helps a lot. There is something very immaculate about allowing our deepest, most thorny parts to come out, and to see them being accepted without limits. Often times, the problems have no immediate answer. Sometimes the best thing we can do or what we need to do is just be in the moment. Be in the pain; the darkness. These are the times when some Pastors come forth with their God -given gifts. Just being with us is powerful in our worst times. Just being.

So, what does one do when it is the Pastor who is carrying the burden? Yes, Pastors carry our burdens for us all of the time, but what happens when the Pastor is weighed down with his/her own humankind pain and suffering?

When a Pastor suffers, the tables are reversed. Whereas we (1 individual or family) may spend time with our honored Church-- guiding -light- minister to help us be in our own moments behind closed doors, or share our pain with our church community as we need to, or choose to, when the Pastor is the sufferer, he/she draws the attention of the entire congregation all in one fell swoop. What a quandry!!

As people, it is our nature to act. It is human nature to jump in and help solve problems for those around us in trouble or in pain. This is what we do. This is how we support each other.

Sometimes, there are no answers but time. Sometimes the best love we can give is our presence- our simply being present. Sit on our hands, and let it be known that we are here, and that we offer the comfort of simple love. Sometimes the hardest work God asks us to do, is the simplist. Today, let's remember how to listen to those around us. Let us work on being with each other in the moment. Listening with love and being-just plain being can be very powerful tools for healing.

Breaking the spin cycle

My work boss likes to spin. He likes to take spinning class at the Y and after spinning class at the Y, he likes to spin right in here to work, and spin down the hall into his/out of his office, up and down the hall, up the stairs and down the stairs, and out the door to the hospital where he spins into ER or ICU or wherever it is he is called to spin.

You can hear him coming if you keep your radar up. He emits this low humm, much like an old timey fan.. Whirr is more like it. It’s best to stay out of arm’s reach when you hear that noise. If you get pulled into the spin you may come out looking something like hair with gum stuck in it, or you may find out your clothes are on backwards or your shoes are tied together. It’s dangerous. DANE- gerous I tell you.

He doesn’t always give off the humm. He doesn’t whirr every minute of every day, but when we approach critical Church events/ times/ occasions, well, the whirr is with us. Whirring is not a bad thing, mind you. Whirring is actually the sound of creativity in motion. This church is all about that. This church is full of creativity and this church is always in motion. I’m surprised the building hasn’t left the ground yet; lift off would solve many problems I’ve heard mentioned in the hallways here.

So, anyway…. I had the opp to break the cycle (if you will) of the spin. The week had been full of humming, whirring, continuous spiritual spinning. I was dizzy at the end of every day. By mid week I had taken to wearing my tennis shoes so I could get a better grip on my days. Even with the windows closed, I had to paperweight all the loose papers on my desk. Let’s just say it was a busy busy week, and much of it originated from the chief’s cave.

I came in early to try to get a handle on the day, and found an email from my boss.
It said, “ WE NEED ANOTHER MAILBOX FOR BLAH BLAH BLAH. tHANKS ….

I read the script and was shoved away from my desk by the all-caps message. I could tell by his thoughtful closure- (little t followed by caps on hanks) that he was spinning when he wrote. I envisioned him in his chair just rotating around and around as he batted around ideas and visions. I was certain he would never intentionally start my day with a scream. I got up and stood by his door. It was vibrating. Air was rushing out from underneath it. Yep. Clear case of Spination. So, I wrote him back.

I wrote, “WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME FIRST THING THIS MORNING?”Then I waited.

Suddenly, the barometric pressure dropped. The building released an exhausted sigh. His door opened, and he came over with a most perplexed look on his face. “Yelling?, I wasn’t yelling. Why did you think I was yelling? Why, church chick, I wouldn't yell at you...” I explained the facts of email etiquette and he understood right away. I think it broke the immediate spin cycle, or at least it slowed it down a bit. Anyway, I am sure I saw him take at least one complete and full breath before he whirred back into his office. Ah, respite comes in short blurts at times, but it is respite all the same.

Sending off friends

Funny the different kinds of friendships that are formed from the desk of the church secretary. Such a variety of relationships grow and flourish on many different levels, all have distinct places in my heart.

There are people I know only by their email addresses, and others who I can identify through voice recognition alone. Some are familiar faces that routinely pass by my office with a quick glance.... again and again and again. Particular people pop in to grab a piece of bubblegum, or maybe they are called to the stress eze nut mix or the anti-oxident mixage and on occassion the password protected mixage. People can be identified by their footsteps, or their walking pace, as well. Many folks I only know by heart, not name.

My Pastor boss can easily be identified by the jingle of his door when he throws it open to search me out. I think his mind explodes with sparkling spontaneous thoughts, when he cloisters himself behind that pastor parlor door- wild thoughts that send him flying across the hall sputtering tasks or questions my way. He is a very energetic and creative sort, this man. He leaves a trail of gossamer behind him when he passes through any place. It's a very good thing.

We have an ongoing chuckle between us that I can sit behind my desk for hours, days, months, without ever being called to his attention, but invariably, the moment my toes cross the threshold of my office, he will simultaneously be in great need of my office skills and will call my name with intention- "Church Chick!!" Once, i heard his cry while I was visiting the second floor restroom. I am in tune with his tone now that I've worked with him for a while. We've tested the pattern before and it runs true. I may be in the kitchen, the copy room, the mail room, my other boss's office, or hanging outside my office window in search of respite, and bingo- I am the name of the hour. It's an honor to be needed, of course. In truth, it is just what it is- another serendipitious pleasant aspect of my job. oh- I'm weaving off the track a bit.... .....


We have a lovely group of warm bodies who have been on this earth a long time, and for this reason- among others- we call them grand. This group meets weekly to share the joy of long-lived friendships and good food. They take turns cooking, and they often times have a speaker. Last week, a group of fancy dancers came and kicked around a while. Once a year, they participate in a bells lesson and the building is filled with notes and rhythm.

I've grown accustomed to their grand patter and wheeling around. On occassion, they will take field trips. I was surprised to find that I felt a great sense of empty-nestness when they took a springtime trip recently. The building grieved the missing presence of my favorite tinkerbell friends.

I love those folks. They are the world in one room. They have lived many lives in many places. One woman wears unique necklaces, she brought me her collection for show and tell one day. kalediscopes, one inch in size, and in perfect working order. How magic is that?

Several of these special friends also volunteer at the front desk, and so they have become work peers. Many are very involved in committee work or other missions within the church - but they are all gifts. Every one of them, and I miss them when they are gone.

I find myself shifting into parent mode when they travel. I boarded the bus last trip and reminded them to behave. How silly is that? Well, if you knew this crew, you'd say 'not silly at all.' I spoke to the bus driver and told him to drive with all the care he carried in his soul and to bring them back in all their many pieces and parts. I must have used my "mom" voice, because he answered with a solemn 'Yes, Ma'am". Maybe I'll add mom to my list of titles in this job. or maybe not.

Today is a field trip day. sighhhhh. I passed out mints to ensure a more enjoyable venue for conversation in close quarters between friends on the bus. I told them to "NOT distract the driver, either." and to come back safely, " I mean it now, SAFE-LEE".

I trust that they will return with many a story to tell at next week's luncheon, but today, the halls will wilt with emptiness.

Excuses

The pastors I've come to know and respect are pretty incredible people. Authentic through and through, genuine to the core. Seekers of truth, the lot of them. If they can't do something, they tell you. If they can, they tell you that too. I have learned much from these people I work with and those I worship with as well. Knowing this.....

It was a dark and stormy day. The staff was inundated with tasks, challenging tasks. Mountains and mountains of sticky notes lay strewn along the main hallway. The mounds of paper pieces were connected with paths of spent staples. whew.The pressure was heavy, suffocating. Everybody had too much to do after returning from a convention the week before. Messages to return, letters to write, questions to answer....It all poured in, filled the building, and formed a stream that fed into the Pastor's office. The busy muck slid under his door, eeeeked in his windows, til there was absolutely no escape.

I went into his office to voice a cheery start to the day, and found him, frozen in front of his computer monitor, fingers experiencing major keyboard tachycardia. Random papers were possessed and floating about his head.. The Bible lay open on his desk, pages flipping faster than fast. He turned to me when I came in and I recognized the glazed look in his eyes. Call me Overwhelmed, the tearless pupils cried.
" Doing okay?"
" I'm overwhelmed. Being away is hard on the catch -up end of things.I have so many different things scheduled and now we have a big funeral I need to be working on, I need time to spend with the family,and my sermon isn't done yet..... lots of people to visit in the hospital, meetings to attend, and the painters are coming to paint my office today, too. I love my job, all of it, it is just an impossible matter of physically making it all fit together and today I am, well, you know. ....overwhelmed. Give me a few minutes to finish this and then we'll look at projects for the day, okay?" I looked over his desk and saw his To Do list. It was sweating-some of the small print was trying to bleed off the page.

"Sure, I'll give you a few." and I went into my office. I refilled the emergency stress jar of peanuts and chocolate that resides on my desk.

The phone rang, ER from a local hospital letting me know that a patient had just requested our minister be notified that she'd just been run over by a train-end of message. Did she say train?
What a quandry!! I didn't want to interrupt my boss, but even I knew this message was important.

I got up and gently knocked on his door. It trembled at my touch. I tiptoed in and stood over his desk. He was writing, frantically trying to complete something on the list. He never lost a swirl pen stroke. I waited. He wrote. I waited. He erased and wrote. Finally, I spoke.
" I wouldn't bother you, but someone just called and they've well,they've been run over by a train and wondered if you could come by......"I think that comment was what is commonly known as the "Last Straw".
Hearing my news, he stopped his scribbling. Without looking up, he held out his hand and I gently placed the message into his damp palm. he began mumbling to himself, then he looked at me with the genuine concern a parent gives a child in need.

" I don't know this member." He reviewed my ink scratchings again. "Train?"
" I don't recognize the name either, they aren't in our database, I think they have the wrong church, maybe. I've got a call into another church to see if maybe its them."

"Oh. Gosh.. even at that....they got hit by a train. Geesh, I should go see them."
I sat down and looked him in the eye. I pointed two fingers at him, then ping ponged them back and forth to my eyes then his, mine then his. Look look look. Look at me, think....What can you change to take just a little bit off of your schedule for today? Isn't there anything?"
He looked at his calendar intently.

"Well, I have a meeting with some prospective members. I will just have to cancel that"
Before I had a chance to say, 'wait a minute , give yourself a minute', he had dialed the phone and reached the voicemail of said prospects.

" I am terribly sorry to have to cancel, I want to meet with you and spend some time with you, but I've been away on business, and now that I'm back, I've got a lot of catch up going on,we've had an unexpected death in the congregation and a big funeral to plan, and i've just found out someone has been run over by a train, so if you don't mind, could you call me back with some optional times?
He hung up, slightly relieved, greatly guiltridden and when he looked to me, his personal support- admin support, all I could give him was uncontrollable laughter. I honestly thought I would need to go home and change if he did not stop delivering excuses into the phone.
"What is funny? "
I said," I was just thinking how would I feel if I got your message? Not only have you been out of town, but the funeral- BIG funeral and the icing on the cake- hit. by. a. train??? I think I might be inclined to call you back and just say, 'If you didn't want to talk to us, why not just say that?' It sounds so impossible. I just think it is comedic. "
The tension broken, we both laughed out loud. On this day, truth was so over the top - Fiction didn't have a chance.
The happy ending is that the people did reschedule and as far as I can tell, things went well. For those of you who keep a running list of excuses, take note.

"Every time a bell rings..an angel gets her wings"

... every time the phone rings and there's a fax tune on the other end, another parishoner is in need- headed for the white board

and every time the fax machine gives birth to an unwanted advertisement, somebody's hard drive loses data

and every time the obnoxious church door bell rings, 2 seconds of patience jump ship.

and every time the Pastor passes by, the wake of his/her heartfelt committment makes the world a little bit better place to be.