Morning Rounds and Evening Musings

Don't worry, nothing explicit. Pillow talk these days consists of catching up on the day's business in the 10 minutes we have together between when our heads hit the pillow and we fall asleep :)

Lauren: I went thrifting today and bought my first tube top. I've never owned one before!

Wes: Heeey! (which is the Wes equivalent of 'wow! cool!')

Pause

Wes: What is a tube top for?

Lauren: For wearing.

Pause

Lauren: Do you even know what a tube top is?

Wes: Does it like, show your midriff or something?


Well, I'm glad he can show excitement for the mundane activities of my day, even if he doesn't have a clue what I'm talking about!

I took my first communion when I was 13. It was preceded by a class on basics of the faith taught by my pastor, and an interview with the elders of the church to make sure I understood the significance of communion. Taking communion required maturity, soundness of doctrine, right belief and confirmation of all these by the community of faith. "Public Profession of Faith" we called it. It was the day Christ became mine, when I decided for myself what to believe. Participating in the sacrament was a sign of that decision, because I believed that Christ died for me.

It wasn't until I started going to the Orthodox Church with Wes is college that I encountered another view of communion. There, we both sat on the sidelines while those who were official members of the Orthodox Church partook of the sacrament. We received the 'blessed' bread that people passed us as they left the communion line. It wasn't consecrated, but was given to us as a sign of hospitality.

I hated being excluded from communion. Even when I visited other churches, I had always taken communion. It was my understanding that we were all part of one big family who, despite disagreement and schism, were fundamentally united in our belief in Christ. But to the Orthodox Church, it wasn't enough to be a Christian. Taking communion was a communal act. It sanctified the whole community and to be a part of that process, a level of commitment to that particular group was required. I understood the concept (and Wes found particular resonance with this eucharistic theology), but I couldn't help my dislike for the feeling of being an outsider. And I missed communion.

Now an Episcopalian, none of that 'public profession' language really matters. Baptism is what 'qualifies' a person for participation in the Eucharist. And we baptize babies. But in typical Episcopal laissez faire theology, Eucharist is virtually un-regulated. Half of our liturgy is done in preparation for the Eucharist. The first half of our service is the 'Service of the Word' when Scripture is read, the sermon is given, the creed recited. The second half is 'Service of the Table' which culminates in the Eucharist. But in the whole second half of the service, never have I heard a priest say, "We welcome all baptized Christians to this table." I'm sure there are many unbaptized people taking Eucharist on any given Sunday at St. Luke's.

The weirdest thing about these differences (to me) is that the Episcopal church has a much higher view of the sacrament than Presbyterians. Growing up, communion was an act of remembrance. It was intended to remind us that Christ's body was given for us, and in light of that sacrifice, to confess and accept it. But at the Episcopal church, the sacrament is much more than remembrance. It actually does something. Exactly what that 'something' is is, of course, hotly debated by theological junkies like myself. But somehow, in some mysterious way, that bread and that wine actually become the body and blood of Christ. And they sanctify, purify and sustain Christians. So while the Presbyterian church guards the table carefully for what they see as essentially a memorial service for Christ, the Episcopal church doesn't guard the table at all (in practice, at least) for what they see as partaking of Christ's body and blood inside a person! Ironic, anyone?

A couple of months back, St. Luke's hosted a speaker about this very subject. Sara Miles became a Christian (she was an Atheist) after partaking in communion at an Episcopal church in San Francisco. This church has as its practice before communion the announcement, "Because Christ's body was broken for all, this bread and this wine is given to all. All are welcome at this table. No exceptions." Now, besides the fact that this is inconsistent with 'official' Episcopal doctrine (and the Presbyterians would have issues with this on a number of levels, as would the Orthodox) this idea has been really appealing to me.

It's called 'open communion' and every Episcopal church does this is practice, though not usually in doctrine. Sara says that something happened to her when she took communion that first Sunday. That she knew she was eating Christ, and that he was inside her. And she was baptized. And then she started this crazy ministry all based on this principle. Once a week, her church feeds people from the alter. Stacked on every side of it is fresh veggies, canned goods, fruit, bread--anything you can think of. And everyone is welcome. There are no questions, no forms to fill out, no conversion statement to be signed, no chapel service to sit through first. Everyone is welcome. Because that's what Jesus did--he healed, and fed and gave himself to everyone.

So I am left slightly confused about where I fall on this communion thing. On the one hand, I value the idea that sacraments are holy and as such, do require a certain amount of understanding, and a commitment to what they represent (or what they are). What good is receiving the body and blood of Christ if you don't believe in either? On the other hand, if communion really is the body and blood of Christ and therefore has the power to transform people's lives, why withhold it from anyone? None of us really understands what communion is, how it works or what actually happens. None of us has right belief, right action, true confession or anything else lots of churches require before partaking. Would fencing the table from people like Sara Miles, unbaptized, non-believing persons limit the power of the gospel? Could the Eucharist be the best form of evangelization there is?

Chipotle Chicken Taco Salad

Dressing:
1/3 cup chopped fresh cilantro
2/3 cup light sour cream
1 tablespoon minced chipotle chile, canned in adobo sauce
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon chili powder
4 teaspoons fresh lime juice
1/4 teaspoon salt

Salad:
4 cups shredded romaine lettuce
2 cups chopped roasted skinless, boneless chicken breasts (about 2 breasts)
1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
1/2 cup diced peeled avocado
1/3 cup thinly vertically sliced red onion
1 (15-ounce) can black beans, rinsed and drained
1 (8 3/4-ounce) can no-salt-added whole-kernel corn, rinsed and drained

Grilled Shrimp Pizza
(this is easy, but the dough takes some time...)

Dough:
2 teaspoons honey
1 package active dry yeast (about 2 1/4 teaspoons)
1 cup warm water (100° to 110°)
2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour (about 10 ounces), divided
6 tablespoons stone-ground yellow cornmeal, divided
1/2 teaspoon salt
Cooking spray
2 teaspoons olive oil, divided

Remaining ingredients:
36 large shrimp, peeled and deveined (about 1 pound)
1/8 teaspoon salt
2 cups (8 ounces) shredded part-skim mozzarella cheese
2 cups (8 ounces) queso fresco, crumbled
6 tablespoons green salsa, divided
1/2 cup fresh cilantro leaves, divided

I spent a lovely weekend in Seattle with my in-laws. Away from the heat, away from a study-crazed husband, away from work. This was the only picture I took--the sunset view from the front stoop of my in-laws new home. How I miss the water! I got to re visit some of my favorite neighborhoods, and even ran into Connor and Don Low--the little boy I used to nanny for.

Now I'm back at work with killer allergies--but only for week until Wes takes his test and we're off to Denver, and then to Alaska!

I'm also back to sharing our house with a semi-wacko. I found someone looking for temporary housing on Craigslist (Wes and I rent out our guest room sometimes for extra cash). Little did I know she was coming to Atlanta to do some intensive raw-food detox program. One that involves twice daily enemas is OUR BATHROOM! So far, she's managed to use 3 rolls of toilet paper in her mere days here, and everyday when Wes comes home, he crinkles his nose as if the smell of poop never really leaves our house ( it does. I promise). Next time I might use some more discretion when choosing roommates.

In other news, my Russia photo album is finally finished. Now I'm only three years behind!

I know from first-hand experience that (with the exception of my husband, and maybe Jesse, too) med students are the highest strung people you will ever meet. They will often talk for several minutes at a time about the strategies for guessing on multiple choice tests. They will agonize about a non-mandatory class they're missing and what the possible consequences are for their future in neurosurgery (I don't even know how to spell that word). They will write compelling evites when inviting friends to parties, knowing they have to make a pretty darn good argument to convince their friends to be NORMAL HUMAN BEINGS and take a study break to eat a hot dog and drink a beer. Trust me. I know these people. They are a rare breed.

So, you want to know the best way to totally freak out 93 med students who are currently studying their asses off for the most important test of their career?

I know! Close down the testing center where they're scheduled to take said exam without telling them. And then, when they find out from another classmate (a fluke!) leave them to fend for themselves to find another testing center in Somewhere, America with an open test date that doesn't cost a million dollars to get to. HA!

Wanna know how I know this splendid trick? Because it happened. Today. And Wes is one of the lucky ones who only has to drive 2 1/2 hours to Montgomery, Alabama to take his test, and even on the original day he was scheduled.

I knew it was bad when I got three emails and 2 text messages and a voicemail from Wes simultaneously with the message, "Call me. Urgent. Test related." I called him back when I got out of my meeting only to hear half-formed sentences mumbled across the line and something about "do you have the ticket info for our Denver trip? I think I might need to take my test there because they closed our testing center. I can't talk. I need to call them. right now." click. And he was gone.

About 20 minutes later, I heard a much more relieved voice across the line, telling me that he was one of the lucky ones--oh, and would I mind taking the day off work to drive him to Montgomery so he could study on the car ride over? :)

When you can't keep your ice cube trays full

When you turn off your water heater

When the entire top shelf of your fridge is filled with cold drinks and there are 4 boxes of popsicles in the freezer

When the only way you can fall asleep is to take a freezing cold shower 10 minutes before bed.

When you get used to that shiny, slightly damp feeling on your skin all day

When even the pool water is too warm

When a hair dryer is completely out of the question

When you choose your outfit based on the thickness of fabric (Wes has resorted to wearing his thrift store, vintage shirts with no undershirt...sexy, huh?)

When running after 8 am is impossible

and ohhh, the cockroaches...

I remember why Atlanta can be a terribly, awful, swampy, disgusting, life-killing place to live. Every year it seems that just when Atlanta is growing on me because of it's incredible Spring weather, flowers, and thunderstorms, Summer comes and makes me want to move away and never look back. I'm a whiner who doesn't like the heat, but for gosh sakes, it's only JUNE! Wes and I have never weathered an entire summer here yet, and I am scared!! Hopefully the window fans I bought today will allow us to sleep and live comfortable without paying hundreds of dollars a month in utilities!

I'm reading Barbara Brown Taylor's Leaving Church right now, and am finding so many points of resonance between her story and my own. She studied religion and went to seminary because that's what you do when you're "drawn to God"--you go where other people feel like that too. With no intention of being ordained, she went to Yale, and after church-hopping, was confirmed in the Episcopal church. She did her field work at St. Luke's, which is where she thought of being a priest for the first time as she walked the processional each Sunday, and mingled with priests in the vesting room. Of course, there were people who warned her against it:

"Think hard before you do this," one said to me when I told him I wanted to be ordained. "Right now, you have the broadest ministry imaginable. As a layperson, you cna serve God no matter what you do for a living, and you cna reach out to people who will never set foot inside a church. Once you are ordained, that is going to change. Every layer of responsibility you add is going to narrow your ministry, so think hard before you choose a smaller box"

But none of that deterred her because she felt such a strong draw to be the hands behind the altar rail, not in front of it, and to do her part to patch the brokenness she saw around her. Her reflections of her 20 plus years of ministry as a priest, both in a large, urban downtown church with which I am very familiar, and a small, rural one in N. Georgia are beautiful and captivating and make the priesthood seem romantic and unique even in the mundane tasks of sending out the bulletin and receiving an angry phone call from a parishioner whose name she spelled wrong:

"The ancient word priest cpatures the risk of this vocation as well as any word I know. In my lexicon at least, a priest is someone willing to to stand between a God and a people who are longing for one another's love, turning back and forth between them with no hope of tending either as well as each deserves. To be a priest is to serve a God who never stops calling people to do more justice and love more mercy, and simultaneously to serve people who nine times out of then are just looking for a safe place to rest. To be a priest is to know that things are not as they should be and yet to care for them the way they are. To be a priest is to suspect there is always something more urgent that you should be doing, no matter what you are doing, and to make peace with the fact that the work will never get done."

Ultimately, the priesthood wore her out, and she went back to teaching theology. I haven't gotten to that part of the book yet, so I don't know her thoughts on it, but I think I have much to learn from her journey.

"When my friend Matilda lay dying of Lou Gehrig's disease, she said that she had been prepared all her life to choose between good and evil. What no one had prepared her for, she lamented, was to choose between the good, the better and teh best--and yet this capacity turned out to be the one she most needed as she watched the sands of her life run out. I thought of her often as my time ran out each day. I spent a great deal of time trying to be good, but was good the same as whole? I never lay in the grass anymore..."

I had lunch with my two supervisors from St. Luke's yesterday, and they said that discernment is not choosing between this option and that one. It is looking at one option, saying yes or no before moving to another. A list of pros or cons ultimately falls flat when it comes to decisions like these. The question is not, "should I be a priest or teach or work in non-profit?" the question is "Should I be a priest, yes or no?" And then move on from there. I thought that was helpful, because at some level this is a choice between good, better or best--and knowing that I can serve God anywhere means there is no 'wrong' decision. God calls me to be his. That is all.

Welcome to the new look! I was getting bored with my other blog, and let me tell you, getting a new template turned out to be more challenging than I thought originally. I'm still looking for the perfect 'look.' Don't hold your breath!

It's funny, not being in school makes me feel like I don't have anything interesting to say anymore:) But the last couple of weeks have held lots of fun and exciting things...

Wes and I went strawberry picking and picked 3 gallons of the lovely, sweet berries. Strawberry jam, strawberry pie and strawberry shortcake, milkshakes and just plain ole' berries were in abundance last week! Yum!

Speaking of food, my new favorite breakfast is this lovely green concoction. Wes and I have been making smoothies in the morning for some time now--our recipe usually consists of plain yogurt, fruit, tofu, almonds, oats, and flax meal. They're supposed to be good for lowering cholesterol (high fiber) and they keep me full until well into lunch time. Lately, I've been adding lots of greens--spinach, kale, etc. along with the fruit and everything else. I put in a couple of handfuls and it still tastes great! A great way to make sure I'm getting all my vitamins while maintaining the yummy, filling fruit smoothie taste!

A month of summer has past, and my job is now finally starting to make sense. It's great to have something so flexible. I go in when I want, leave when I want. Hit the pool when I want :) It's great. I've read three books so far, my Russia photo album is about 2 pages from being finished, my windows are washed, closet is cleaned out and linen closets are organized. New recipes are always on the menu...what a difference having time makes!

My biggest accomplishment thus far has been my workout routine. I've been working out (running, pilates, lap swimming) 6 days a week. And my generous husband is allowing me to reward myself with 10$ of spending money for every week I work out 6 days. I will use it on the things I never spend money on--clothes, pedicures, stuff for the house, etc. I must say, there have been a few days when I was not excited to get up and go, but that money kept me going! It doesn't take much!

Still, it's frustrating how slowly physical change is coming around. I notice that I now have more endurance, and I definitely feel better, but those little chunky places around my thighs and pudges on my tummy are slow to come off. Dang!