The Word of the Year And A Way Big Bunch of Rambling from Me. Enter - and stay - at your own risk!

The annual Oxford English dictionary has come out with its "word of the year" and that word is "unfriend."

Have you ever unfriended anyone on Facebook? I must ashamedly admit that I have. When I was new to FB, I was a bit over the top, friending all sorts of people and I realized that at some point. So I started to unfriend people that I really did not know or folks that I had just connected to very briefly, but who I would not likely have much contact with. I also unfriended people who clearly were not on FB - maybe they  just signed up and then never used it again.

Finally I learned how to "hide" and I started hiding things like Mafia Wars and all that other game stuff. Nothing personal if you play them, but it is not my interest. I have hidden people's updates if they are not folks that I am in regular contact with at all.

In any case, you now know more about my Facebook life than you might care to.

The reason that I bring this up is because I heard a homily at mass on Saturday that was based on this "word of the year- unfriend." It was a really good homily too!

Father Pat reminded us that God can never unfriend us. I was reminded of the complications of a committed faith life in the postmodern world. Some churchy folks go far and wide to not be postmodern, but I would be the first one to say that I am pretty much that and a person of faith as well.

This got me thinking about some other stuff too... Such as how so many people who have been truly hurt by the church confuse that with being hurt by God. That the church has hurt and continues to hurt so many is a tragedy to me and I understand why many seek other denominations than the one they start with or that they abandon faith altogether.

This led me to thoughts of how someone says "you make me feel stupid" or whatever we think someone makes us feel. I learned a long time ago, (thanks therapy!) that no one can make me feel stupid. People can do and say things that elicit many feelings and may hurt me, but in the end I choose to feel stupid or whatever. There is a lot of power in learning that and I am grateful.

This does NOT by the way get people (churches or otherwise) off the hook for saying and doing hateful things that leave people abandoned, broken or rejected.

So it makes sense that many people think that God is little more than a cruel joke and that they will dump him(or her) before he can do any more harm. As if a relationship with God were something that we could control!

When I was starting my job, almost one year ago, I was reminded by blogger Sebastian, who is himself a Catholic priest writing from deep cover, that the church people who have the potential to inflict the most harm are priests or parish secretaries. He was so right! I hope that I have not inflicted a lot of harm. I don't think my boss does either, but I see people get angry or upset with him.

This often happens as a result of him doing something that they don't agree with. It is kind of like God - and kind of like most human relationships - you are not always going to get what you want.

And often that causes barriers to come flying up and some sort of "unfriending" goes on one way or the other as we leave people or institutions behind.

Now sometimes the person or people or institution has to be left behind. I have left very close relationships over stupid things, and I have left close relationships to maintain my mental health and my integrity. Sometimes it happens, but I wonder about the ways in which we might terminate what would be better kept and vice versa.

All these thoughts from one word - unfriend.

I have gotten very angry with God and I must say I am grateful when I learned that I could do that without harm. God is not some firebreathing monster as I have come to understand him/her.  Never have I wanted to leave God though - never.  Maybe someday? Possible but not probable.

And yes - I do believe that God would never, ever abandon me - or unfriend me.  Which is exactly what Father Pat was talking about last night.

This past week had me encounter death in several ways.  First of all, as I have spent the past couple of days writing about, Rev. Jim Jensen, husband of Klady/Kathy died a week ago Saturday.

Roseann has been dying, as I wrote about recently and now she has finally gone. It is at once so sad but also a time of peace and relief for Roseann.   My heart does go out to Gary. Roseann won't be on Facebook anymore - and Mafia wars will be lessened by her presence.  She sure loved that game.

A friend of mine from high school died unexpectedly and another friend of mine lost a beloved aunt.

Yet all this death does nothing to diminish life and if anything, it has brought more friendship and not unfriending of any sort. In fact, in its own way it brings more in the way of of friendship.

And a reminder to me that God never, ever does unfriend us, no not ever.

Requiem - Resurrection (Part II of the Requiem Eucharist for Rev. James M. Jensen)

There is so much that I want to say about the Requiem Eucharist for The Very Reverend James M. Jensen and finding the right words is a challenge. (See part one here.)

This liturgy was extraordinary in every sense of the word.

Grace Church is gorgeous, a fine old church with an amazing organ. It was quite full as there were many present to pray with Kathy and her family and to celebrate Jim's life.

The music was sublime; I knew that this was important to Kathy and that a lot of effort went into choosing the right pieces. There was a beautiful prelude before the service began.

The crowd as I mentioned, was large and also quite diverse. As I sat there praying and listening to the prelude music, I was aware of so many different kinds of people who had come together for this moment.

The entrance hymn was 379, "God Is Love, Let Heaven Adore Him" and that was followed by 208, "The Strife is O'er." The processional made me weepy as I watched the choir and the many clerics and others make their way up the long, center aisle.

And did people sing! I sang as loud as I could as singing is a powerful prayer.

The numerous priests and deacons really struck me because there were men and women and it was quite a diverse group. That changes a church very much, something that I will comment on more in another post. Then the bishop, The Right Reverend Gladstone B. Adams III,  made his way up last, with his mitre and crook.

The first lesson was the one I plan to have read at my own funeral, Wisdom 3:1-9. No I am not planning on going anywhere, but I do have clear thoughts about what I want to have happen when I do.

This was followed by Psalm 46 sung by the choir and it was transcendent.

The second lesson was from Revelation 7:9-17 and I was also reminded of where we are in the liturgical year. Kathy had mentioned on Facebook that the theme of the eucharist was Easter and the sense of life into death into life was most profound in song and word.

The Holy Gospel was from St. John 5:37-40 and I did cry as it was proclaimed. I wondered about Kathy and her family up in the front row, how were they doing? I thought of all those who loved Jim and who worked with him and prayed that consolation would come. It will, but not in any easy way.  I also love how the Gospel is proclaimed in TEC, right from the center aisle - that is very beautiful and moving to me.

The Rev. John A. Wingert was the homilist and he spoke about this soul, taken away and how Jim's family and friends will mourn freely. He talked about how Jim had many relationships as Rector and how in his various roles, he touched so many people. It was also noted that Jim's passing will be felt profoundly at the deanery level and also at the diocesan level. Jim's gentle spirit and abiding faith were brought up and how he had a sense of humor - but never at anyone's expense.

Ultimately Rev. Wingert reminded us all that Jim had become one of the "great cloud of witnesses" and that those who mourn will draw strength from "sacrament and scripture," especially the Gospel which reminds us that "I will raise him up," as we are taught in John.

Again my thoughts were with Kathy and her family as they heard these words about their beloved husband and father, plus any other family that might be present. Of course the staff of Grace Church and all those in TEC who worked with Jim are mourning this loss and I pray for them too.

Communion was beyond words. As we all approached the Table of the Lord, the choir sang. As we slowly made our way up, I found myself standing in between the choir stalls waiting and surrounded by music. I had chills and I had a sense that this was what the Kingdom must be like.

My heart and mind were also infused with thoughts of Roseann that were so strong. It felt like she was passing at that moment, but of course she had not yet done so. My prayer for her was so strong and I wept as I slowly went to the altar to share in the Eucharist. (I am not sure if she has entered into the heart of God in death yet, but if not, it will be soon.)

The Holy Eucharist was nearly over. There was the Commendation and the prayers to give rest to Christ's servant, James as he went on to life everlasting.

Jim's casket, covered with the funeral pall slowly passed by on this part of the final earthly journey. Kathy and her family made their way down the center aisle, their sadness and pain was visible.  The hymn "Jesus Christ is Risen Today," one normally only heard at Easter was resounding through the church.

While I am deeply grateful to have been there, I was struck by such sadness. Yet I was also moved that we have such a profound community online, one that stretches far and wide.  It is great that we walk in joy from our distant outposts, connecting on blogs and Facebook but it is also a tremendous gift to be able to hold and support one another in our sorrow and loss.

Our hearts are united in prayer with Kathy and her family and all who loved Jim at this sad, sad time.

Grace Church, Utica, NY - Thursday November 19, Part 1

This was a blogger meet up of a different natue....While having met others before, last night's  was of a different nature, as it was occurring because of Rev. Jim Jensen's Requiem Eucharist. For those who do not know, Jim was the husband of Klady or Kathy.  (I hope that Kathy does not mind that I am using photos from her blog for this post. I especially love the baptism photo below - and as we all know death is a part of our baptismal promise, an act connect to death but filled with hope.)

The church, which you can see at the top, is quite stunning. I entered and got into a line of people waiting to pay their respects to Fr. Jim. As I did not know him in life, I could not say if he looked "good" - whatever that means. I do know that a body remains, but a soul has already gone onto the Kingdom and is deep within the heart of God. However, Fr. Jim did look exactly as his photo shows him, a handsome man and vested for his last Holy Eucharist.

After a brief prayer, in which every member of our community was in my heart I took a few steps towards Kathy. She took one look at me and a huge smile covered her face as she said "Fran?!" We embraced tightly. I am not typically at a loss for words, even at funereal events - tonight I stammered a bit and said that I was there on behalf of everyone, especially Jane, Mimi, Shelley and Doxy - as well as so many others. Kathy told me how grateful she was for what we all have out here. She felt so much love and support during the time from Jim's death forward. I quickly moved on.  (Shelley aka PseudoPiskie, was at the funeral of George Bland, father of blogger Janis Bland and couldn't make it to Utica.)

A few minutes later I saw someone I knew would be there, Rev. Lauren Gough who blogs as Muthah+ both here and here; what a joy to meet her even under these circumstances. She has the most beautiful smile and I further felt the enormous generosity of heart and spirit that I had experienced on her blogs and in email.

The place was awash in Episcopal clergy and I will write more about that at another time. The entire church hall was very, very busy as you can imagine. Seconds after meeting I looked up and saw the Rev. Mark Giroux. You are right to say "who?" Mark is not a blogger, but in a crazy small world thing I actually know him otherwise. It was at St. Mark's that Jim Jensen fell ill on Saturday. We chatted for a moment and I was further moved by how, as Fr. Mark had written to me in an email, "It astonishes me how the internet seems so often to expand the circle of God's love."

A little while later I had the chance to meet another blogger, one who is anonymous on his blog, but who I have gotten the chance to know via email. That would be none other than +Clumber. He was very discreet and The Right Rev. Gladstone B. Adams III who is the Bishop of CNY did not even realize that another bishop was present! I love that kind of clerical humility, that is all I can say.

I am going to break this up into more than one post, so this one will close here; more to follow.

The Wordless Place Where Only Our Hearts Can Speak - Updated

I was writing about Roseann the other day, as she navigates the pathway towards death.

Death is the one inevitable thing we must all face.  I used to read the blog of an atheist (and I have no problem with atheists or atheism in general; just because I don't agree, doesn't mean I have to stop exchanging ideas or having discussions) who believed that death was a disease that could be cured. This person thought I was delusional. I thought that maybe they were. We all have our delusions, don't we?

In any case, here we all are, praying for Roseann - and we are - not expecting death to come forth elsewhere.

Of course, it always does.

Yesterday, quite unexpectedly, the Very Rev. James M. Jensen died.  My heart goes out to Kathy, who blogs at Lady of Silences and to her entire family. There really are no words.

Yet I am reminded of what does bind us together, often in faith. This wordless place where only our hearts can speak.

Rest in peace Rev. Jensen. Peace, consolation and healing to his family and friends.

***Update: I neglected to add the tragic and sudden death of Terra Lyn Swinney to this post. Terra died when a gust of wind blew a tree onto her car last week.   She was 29 years old and the mother of a baby. Terra was a member of the community that Jane R. was working with last year.  Elizabeth also has a post up about this.

The Road Now More Traveled - A Year's Journey from November 2008 to November 2009

This was published one year ago, on my old blog. Well to be technical it was published on Sunday November 16, 2008.

Interesting to read today as my life is so different! I did of course, get the offer and took the job. And he didn't like me that much at first, we had our challenges.

Now we get along really well and I can't imagine calling him anything but Father. (You will have to read on to understand this.)

And I so love this job, in ways I never thought I could or would. Honestly, it is remarkable. Working there has changed me profoundly. 

Talk about unlikely! Beyond unlikely!

Go figure, who knew? Life is full of surprises.



There was no small amount of ambivalence about getting washed, dressed and out the door, but before I even get to that, I must examine what transpired.

It had been a bad night for sleep, something that comes in ill-timed cycles and might be hormonal and age related. At 5:40am, when I could not stay in the not-sleep anymore, I got up.

Oh well, I could catch up on email and blog-reading, right? Not before my prayers however, and the prayers did not come easily. How I loathe the dryness that so often appears out of nowhere. I am no St. Therese or Mother Teresa with this, I bitch about it to God quite often. Even my journal entry was lame and riddled with errors due to my poor non-Catholic-school penmanship. At least no one else will have to read it.

After coffee and the blogs, I looked at the clock... 7:22. If I were going to go, I had to leave at 7.30. I slogged upstairs, reconsidered, but brushed my teeth and washed my face anyway. Clothes went on and out the door I went.

I got into my car feeling leaden, as if I had some bowling balls in my pockets. Suddenly the remnants of my bizarre dreams came rushing forth like a bad, hot wind. I dreamt of the priest who married us, of small bottles of Gatorade and a place that was not at all familiar to me.

7.34am... Better hit the gas and go. The stupid garage door is screwed up and often refuses to close. Like today. Dammit! There, three is a charm indeed, it is shut.

Here, suburban quickly spills into the rural, as if the suburbs are fingers that push into the nearby farmlands. This road will soon be familiar. It is almost a straight shot, all 10.4 miles of it. Those miles will soon be my daily companions as I come and go. Offices, houses, school complex, then fields, barns, trailers. Land cleared for new homes that may never be built. Historical markers. A railroad trestle and a one way only pass under a bridge. I must wait my turn, it is 7.47! I have to be there by 8.

When it comes to punctuality I am an obsessive worrier of the worst sort and today my obsessive worrier was in a higher gear than my car, on this slow road. I pass the former mental hospital which is drug rehab facility now. It just has such a malevolent look to it. I shudder. What was that awful dream about? What did the little sample size Gatorade bottles mean?

Traffic light, turn right. Less than a mile now. Will the Obama sticker, in Hebrew no less, elicit anger or dismay from someone? Too bad, it is there and I have no need to remove it.

I pull in. Unlike my visit there on Friday, this morning the parking lot is reasonably full and getting fuller. That is a lot of people for 8am, I am impressed.

What am I getting myself into? I better go in and find out what this place and this guy is about.

I park in what seems to be the back, but like my own place, the sense of front and back are confused. In the 70's and early 80's, bad architecture was the sad norm for these places. Front? Back? There are too many doors here and it really is a reminder of where I go most weeks, most days at that. These two places are so similar yet so different.

Not wanting to cause a stir, I park where my sticker may be less obvious. Exiting the car I can feel the wind blowing hard on this gray morning, it cuts me like many little knives. This jacket is not warm enough for today. What does this wind portend for me?

I make my way in. People are not so friendly. It is actually rather nice inside. On Friday he showed it to me after we spoke. He made some minor improvements by covering the cinder block with dry wall. High wooden ceilings, vaulted. Windows - ok, but very much of that era. A cruciform building.

Scoping out the place I'd like to sit I find a good spot. Suddenly I realize that I neither genuflected or knelt down to pray. We are not big genuflecters at my place and we have no kneelers. I am as nervous as a cat. Whatever that means- my cat tends to sleep a lot and is generally mellow.

The altar is lovely really - raised up 3 steps and big. The altar table is odd however - it either looks like a big boat or a big bowl. I don't have much time to think because as soon as I sit down it is time to begin.

City of God - as good an entrance hymn as any, if a bit dated. I can sing it without looking at the song sheet. Will my tears be turned into dancing here?

They process up the aisle, two altar servers, a lector with the Gospel book held high and the presider. He seems like a nice enough man, or at least he did on Friday when we spoke. He reminds me of a an ISTJ version of the guy at my place. That one is a total ENFP like myself, except that years of corporate life made my P a little J-ish at times and my N a little T-ish. I am sorry if this makes no sense to you non-Myers Briggs types. Today I write for my own need.

It is liturgically lovely. Really nice. Decent music. A good sized crowd for 8am. It is all pretty good, moves along at a good pace, appropriate moments of silence, good community, nice homily.

The mass ends, I go out the door and wait to say hello. He is shaking hands, people passing by, saying hello. Then he gets to me, shakes hand - says hello - smiles and then his delayed reaction... "FRAN!" he shouts. He is happy to see me and surprised. "You're here, you came to mass!" "Yes," I say "I thought I would come see what this community was like." "So" he says, "what did you think?" The whole time he is gripping my hand rather tightly, something I know he has no clue of. "Father, it was a truly beautiful liturgy, really lovely. A nice place." There is problem number one - I almost never call priests "Father" if I can help it. That will be interesting to resolve.

I know it is time to move on, so I simply say "See you Wednesday." That's when we have the second interview. He really likes me.

My unemployment runs out next week. Despite my trying, there is no job for me at my parish. Or seemingly anywhere else, except a total commission gig selling a kind of insurance associated with a duck.

I have a conflicted relationship with my church and working for it will only challenge that.

Time to get back on the rural road and head back to my suburban home. As I drive, I wonder if this is really the right thing to do.

It may be... if I get the offer.

Show up. Pay attention. Speak your truth. Don't be attached to the outcome. Forgive. That is the key to all.

Show up. Pay attention. Speak your truth. Don't be attached to the outcome.

Forgive. That is the key to all.- Roseann Allen-Matthews

Roseann blogs at Give Peace A Chance, Please! I know Roseann from the community that formed at OCICBW and also at Wounded Bird. While I always followed what was going on with Roseann and her numerous health challenges that were so frequently outdone by her extremely positive nature, I was never in much contact with her. I don't know why- no real reason.

However I did always want to know what was up and I always kept Roseann in my prayers.

What always struck me most was how fiercely she seemed to live her life but yet in such a freely surrendered manner.

There have been so many ups and downs over the course of these two years and I think that most people would not have made it as far as Roseann has.

Roseann always reminded me of my friend Cathy. Cathy also had kidney disease and like Roseann, had a distinct lack of them. Cathy was on dialysis for almost 30 years!

Cathy taught me a lot about life; I wrote about her recently for All Souls Day. She had a certain sort of detached determination that I would see glimpses of in Roseann's postings.

Roseann is near the end. She is very peaceful about the whole thing. I find her whole attitude and outlook to be grace unleashed. It looks like her passing will be in a week or two and it will be very peaceful.

And I am much more emotional about this than I might have imagined, given my knowledge of but distance from Roseann's life.

If you are a praying person, please pray for Roseann and also please pray for her beloved Gary. (Gary will not only lose his partner but has his own health challenges.) 
And please - listen to her words that are used in the title of this post and that I put here for you once more - she is onto something.

Show up. Pay attention. Speak your truth. Don't be attached to the outcome. 

Forgive. That is the key to all. -Roseann Allen-Matthews

Go in peace Roseann.

Why I Like Both/And Better Than Either/Or

H/T to Jan at Yearning for God, for this one. She was writing about someone I quote and write about often, Richard Rohr, OFM.

Sometimes people write to me and say that they love Richard Rohr. Sometimes people say that he is a self-serving bag of wind. I say both/and!

Today my friend Paul sent me something that I had an either/or reaction to. And he showed me, in a spirit of friendship and fidelity, the both/and of what he sent me.

Life is good that way, isn't it?

Very both/and. And it would take a dog to help us figure that out!