Skip to main content

how to have a bad day at seminary

(Disclaimer: This happened on Tuesday. If I were writing an entry on how to have a bad week then I would fill you in on why I'm just now getting to this...)

Step 1: Tell a room full of wannabe preachers that there's a difference between prophesy and what they'll be doing for the rest of their lives. Now. I'm not saying there are no modern day prophets. But I am saying that the 20 people sitting in that classroom are in for a surprise if they think that's what they're going to school for. I really struggle with this. A lot. So much so that I said this out loud, in class, with other people in the room. And while 9 people immediately shot their hands up in the air to offer their own indignant defense, I filled 2 pages of my legal pad with frustrated stream of consciousness. Here's the deal. I grew up in the church. And I preach now (more like, give a speech every Sunday morning - since that's what it is). And I've seen what a church can do to a pastor and it's not what these people think. I could go on (and I did). But that's the beauty and the danger of waiting 3 days to write this.

Step 2: Engage in a discussion with 3 PhD students and (mistakenly, it seems) assume you have something to contribute. I won't say any more about this, but I'm sure they would (while exercising their unneccesary and pompus vocabulary).

How you know you've succeeded: As you sit in traffic on Lake Shore Drive, play Miley Cyrus' Party in the USA (don't judge - it happened to come on the radio station I was listening to). So the song is on, are you crying? Are you crying and singing along because of the undeniable maturity and wisdom clearly exhibited in the lyrics, "So hard with my girls not around me, it's definitely not a Nashville party 'cause all I see are stilettos. I guess I never got the memo." Oh, Miley, it is hard.

Now, the important part. How to have a better night: Go home to your boyfriend, your dog, and a glass of wine. Don't do any homework, cry just a little more (to mourn your very short lived popularity) and then laugh about it.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

the next six

It's almost comical how unreliable I am. Or perhaps it's gone way past that and on to the completely  other side, I have become reliably unreliable. Either way, my apologies. But it is still fall and I'm gonna do this dammit! So here are the next six: 4. BOOT SOCKS! I channeled fall through fashion today - a cream colored sweater, navy leggings, and brown boots (AND BOOT SOCKS!).   5. Fall cleaning! Definitely not one of my favorite things in the moment, but there's no better way to usher in a new season than by ushering out all the crap you've accumulated since the beginning of the last one. This was, of course, followed by a brower with a fall seasonal (because you have to get clean after you clean, and beer makes any shower better). 6. On Saturday, Mindy and I drove down to Fisher. It was hard not to notice fall, as it's hanging out all along Highway 57 South. Also, I bought Count Chocula and a black cat walked in front of us on our way home...

in keeping with tradition

So it's Lent.  Big excitement.  I made fasnachts yesterday after work.  I love them, and the tradition in my family of making them.  I look forward to it every year.  Until it gets here and I actually have to do it.  Perhaps its because the last several years when I've made them I've done so alone.  Baking is always more fun with someone else.  As tradition dictates (i.e. what my dad did), I have to start the dough the Monday night before Fat Tuesday.  I'm pretty sure tradition also dictates that I don't start the process until, like, 11 pm.  So, I obliged.  By midnight I'd produced a giant bowl of potato dough, a mess in the kitchen, and a stomachache from eating said potato dough.  Tradition then dictates that you wake up way too early (6ish) to roll out all the dough, let it rise again, cut it into doughnut shapes, poke holes in it, fry it (all 60 some doughnuts), and sugar bomb them.  I set my alarm.  I did....

our worst anniversary yet

(So, I logged in today with a totally different post on my mind, and found this unposted entry from last September, which means a twofer for today and TOTALLY makes up for the amount of time passed since my last entry.) Nelson and I celebrated our first anniversary this past week, September 6th. We both knew it was coming. We remembered. My mom texted us. Facebook shoved pictures and posts onto our timelines, recalling how much our worlds revolved around us for one day last year. Speaking of shoving pictures at people, here we are! The first anniversary is high stakes: it sets the bar for how you'll celebrate anniversaries the rest of your life. You want it to be special, to at least try to capture some thread of the elation you (maybe, hopefully) felt at the wedding. The idea is that, down the road, you might be too far into it - life, kids, work, monotony - to really feel celebratory, so you better take advantage of this SUPER-ALL-IMPORTANT first anniversary and make it...