On the recommendation of a clergy friend, I am reading Good Moves: Seven Questions For Clergy To Ask Upon Leaving And Entering Positions of Leadership by Phillip S. Washburn. It’s a nifty little book with good insights, written from a systems perspective. For those of us who worship at the shrine of Edwin S. Friedman, it’s a good addition to our ministerial arts library.
I’m preparing for my big farewell weekend with my congregation and having many FEELINGS. My biggest feeling is “Oh Lord, please don’t let me become a red-nosed, blubbering idiot.” I remember five years ago when a parishioner who was extraordinarily dear to me died of cancer after a long and valiant fight, and I really thought I was okay. I got through the memorial service all the way to the closing hymn, at which point I broke. I don’t mean that my voice broke, I mean I broke like a twig snaps or a transmission blows in a car. Tears poured out of me as I actually tried to sing, and I had to fiercely threaten myself with severe punishment in order to pronounce the benediction. It was a horrible experience and one that I never want to repeat. I think such moments make us stronger but I regret that they also may make us tougher.
A younger parishioner gave me a hug after the service and said something like, “I think we got a really deep glimpse of your heart today.” While I found that to be a lovely and kind thing for him to say, the professional in me thinks it highly inappropriate for the minister to ever become the focus of a rite of passage. We should govern our emotions well enough at funerals so that no one ever feels that it’s necessary to offer condolences to US (unless we are presiding at the funeral of family — that is to say, not a member of our congregation). Not that it’s wrong to show that we’re grieving, it’s just an important boundary not to appear that one is so distraught that those present have cause to worry about the pastor’s well-being. By all means take the next day off, sob with your friends or your dog, see your therapist, take a long walk by the ocean, attend to your own spirit… but keep your s*** together for the service.
I just ate two pieces of bread with cream cheese on them. My eating is not the most mindful right now.
ANYWAY, I prefer to focus right now (and I mean right now as in this moment, when I should be working on my annual report and order of service) on practical issues around transition. Like, should I leave Verizon and switch to Comcast, or do I need cable at all what with Hulu and Netflix and such? And do I need a land line or can I use Google voice and my mobile phone?
Did I tell you I bought my first house? And I’m in the process of being mortgaged for the first time and it’s all amazing and super stressful? I have no doubt whatsoever about buying this house — I feel the whole process was totally God-led (or “in the zone/flow/Universe” if you prefer). But the layers of financial responsibility coupled with the steep learning curve added to the emotion that comes with leaving a ten-year ministry and anticipating an exciting new parish context is all just wow.
I guess I just needed to talk to someone tonight. Thanks for being there, pigeons.
Oh, speaking of being there, I’ll be in Iowa with the United Church of Christ Iowa Conference next week for their Recharge Conference. I’m leading two workshops on Friday and meeting with the 20/30 clergy group that evening. Holler if you’re gonna be there!
Try dumping the cable and the landline. You can always add them if you need them, but if you be locked into a contract, it’s that much harder to dump them. We haven’t had a landline in five years and have just dumped cable for the third time, and we never miss either.
God bless you, PB, as you negotiate everything that this move offers you. You truly are a blessing to your readers & to your parishioners, I am sure of that. Be kind to yourself during these stressful days. May the Lord bless you and keep you…
I second the suggestion to dump cable and land lines. I haven’t had a land line since 2007 and haven’t missed it. I also just dumped my cable and subscribe instead to Hulu and Netflix. I still get to watch series that I enjoy but I don’t get sucked into marathons of House Hunters International which render my willpower to pull away useless.
As for holding yourself together, I have a few tried and true strategies that I’ve perfected over years of singing at emotional family weddings and funerals. When you feel yourself being overcome with emotion, think of the most non-emotional thing you can imagine. For me I start naming trying to name all the hockey players I can think of. It never fails to get me out of the emotional space in order to focus on the singing that I need to do. If you do find yourself shedding a tear or two at certain moments, have a glass of water heavy. I’ve been told that when we start tearing up sipping some water is part of what can stem the tide from tears to downpour. I always make sure that I practice speaking all of the parts of the service so that I have the chance to hear what the words will sound like as I imagine the emotional space I’ll be in. That way I have a better chance of being able to prepare myself for the emotional places. Inevitably something will come up and surprise you, but it helps to have rehearsed the emotional reactions. It makes it easier to get through the day.
Blessings on your leave taking and your transition.
AWP, thanks for those tips. I tend to be a bit of a crier, and I’ll try that thing with the sip of water…
Whoops, not sure why my previous comment listed my name as AWP instead of lauren. Sorry about that!
Can’t help with the crying…but if you’re going to Iowa, you might want to excuse yourself from “mindful eating” and try the Iowa-cut pork chops (if you’re a pork-eater) and PIE. My gosh, I’ve never had such pie.
When I moved for this job about which I was happy and excited I found myself perplexingly full of grief. My therapist gently reminded me that the level of grief associated with moving – even a good move – is up there with death of beloved parent or partner. Even though I was tending to relationships intentionally and building transitions and saying goodbyes and farewells as warranted, somethings were *dying.* And I needed to allow space for that grief then and in the months ahead. That helped me to be prepared. And not feel like I was crazy since I really was happy and crying like crazy.
Thank you for your words of wisdom as I am in a similar transition process right now. (Apart from buying the house-stuff. Thankfully)
And I so understand what happened to you at the funeral. Had a similar experience last year.
Will try to get a copy of the book you recommend.
Blessings to you and your new ministry 🙂
Blessings on your transition! You are amazing, and I’m pretty sure it’s all going to be all right. Are you familiar with Anne Lamott’s “Bird by Bird”? I’m planning a new version called “Box by Box.” “One box at a time, buddy…”
I told my therapist yesterday that I’m having trouble sleeping, because every time I lie down my brain jumps up. I lie there thinking about what’s lurking in that pile of papers in the basement, and how I ended up with my daughter’s third-grade rental clarinet, and how many boxes it will take to hold my mother’s stoneware, and where to put the piano, and whether that pretty greenish-gray is too dark for the living room. I review the slightly prickly email from somebody on my new staff and consider how to respond. I wonder what it will be like to live alone after 33 years. She suggested that my brain was whirring in this manner to distract me from my grief. I guess I need to sit still and let the grief come–and then maybe I can sleep again.
Sending angels your way–Karen [You too, honey. This was a great letter. Thank you. – PB]
I know it seems unprofessional from your point of view to lose it during a service. And yes, you probably should keep it together. But here’s something that happened at our church that might provide a slightly different angle from which to view things.
The priest’s best friend had passed just about 48 hours ago. It was a regular weekday service, just a few parishioners and the grieving priest. I thought his teeth would all crack from how hard he was clenching his jaw, absolutely refusing to give in to his pain. Now, it was just us parishioners, and we all understood. But his obstinacy made it seem like he didn’t trust us with his grief. [Yes, this is a very deep insight. – PB] It was only a few church family members, and not a bunch of outsiders. That weekend, he was quiet and professional as he conducted his friend’s funeral, but geez, it wouldn’t have killed him or us to let ONE tear escape. (He’ll let that one escape now; he’s since come to learn better. We’re all better for it.)
As to holding it together at such times, when I have a solo at these events and think I can’t do it, I think of Elton John at Diana’s funeral. That wasn’t just another gig for him; she was his friend. He had to perform at the funeral, then be whisked away to record the song he’d just sung. Like his music or hate it, that’s no small feat.
Just my $0.02! [And worth far more than that! Thanks for writing. – PB]
I am grieving a transition too (this is the longest I’ve ever had a job, and my first church job). It’s time to leave, I’ve been careful with my departure, and I’m excited, but oh.
So thank you for this.
The funny anecdote I have is from one of the children I work with (I’ve been a DRE- now going off to do a ministerial internship). When I first told them I was moving away she stared at me for a moment and then threatened to track me down (if I left) and eat all my clothes. I’m really going to miss those kids.
Dear Peacebag, I love you I really do. I get dressed and frequently ask myself what would peacebang think? Like you I do not want to see clergy bawling all over the pulpit. However, I do not think we always need to be so stoic in the face of pain. On a Thanksgiving weekend my congregation showed up for church to learn that two friends had died in a car crash the night before. It was a small church and we all lost a friend and neighbour that day. At the two funerals my voice cracked and I cried (just a bit). My tears were the expression of all our grief. We do not always need to be strong. Every once in awhile your puritan sneaks out and scolds you unnecessarily. [ You’re right. But. But. There’s to me, there’s a difference between someone being killed in a car crash and someone dying of cancer, which happens all the time. I agree with you but I then I also think it’ important not to bleed all over everyone, you know what I mean? – PB]
While still in seminary, I learned that PART of the reason God called me into ministry is that I sometimes cry. Like you, I think clergy “should” keep it together at all times while leading worship. On the other hand, when I look at myself through God’s eyes instead of my own, I understand that my tears sometimes ARE leadership. My tears are shed in solidarity with those in grief. (Don’t get me wrong. I only drip maybe once a year, and I’ve only had difficulty with composure once or twice in 15 years. I’m not Tammy Faye…)
IF you cry at your departure, my guess is that your congregation won’t feel, “Oh, my! We must Show Her Pastoral Care!” but rather they will feel, “She loved us. She really loved us.” Make sure they here that second message, somehow. [I hope to God they will hear that loud and clear. I’ve been saying it an awful lot. – PB]
Rev. Mary C. Lindberg wrote a book recently published by the Alban Institute called “The Graceful Exit: A Pastor’s Journey from Good-bye to Hello.” For those of you looking for additional resources on transitioning, maybe this would be helpful. (Full disclosure: As an editor at a different publisher, I have worked with Mary on several projects, and she is a stellar writer, pastor, and person.)