Category: Miscellany

Bonjour from the beauteous Pacific Northwest, my doves!

I am staying in Seattle as the guest of a Methodist clergy brother who offerered me hospitality DURING THE PASSING OF THE PEACE at the Festival of Homiletics in Nashville this past May. What trust! What kindness! What Christian virtue! I still can’t quite get over it. Not only did he invite me to stay with him and his wife for three nights without having any acquaintance with me whatsoever, he left a key for me yesterday afternoon because he and his wife had an opportunity to spend a night away. It seems they hosted a youth group last week and needed a bit of R & R for themselves. One can only imagine. What is harder to imagine, however, is leaving a key to your home for a total stranger and inside, a note that says, “Make yourself at home!”

I am humbled by their goodness.

I am also, to get to the subject at hand, humbled by the photographs of me taken at General Assembly. The Bad Hair is one thing (either too dry or greasy, too blonde, unstylable) but the enormous hamhock upper arms are another. I am becoming my great-grandmother! You can start calling me Baba Billo. I knew the gut was deteriorating. I knew the legs were getting more tree-stumpish with every week away from the gym. I knew the face was losing its battle to retain notable bone structure. But mon Dieu! My upper arms are going to need their own zip code soon!

Here it is, chickens. Looking back over the year and realizing that I have given my congregation 100%, my doctoral program 100%, my new student minister 100%, and the class that I’m teaching 100% helps me to understand and to accept that I have been giving myself the Leftovers. Ooh, and such yummy leftovers! Macaroni and cheese! Quesadillas! Steak tips and Ben & Jerry’s!
All kidding aside, and all self-acceptance in my heart, I’m going to change some priorities and lose some habits. I love my life too much to let it continue so out of balance. I do believe that these are excellent years for working hard — and even too hard. I’m only 41, and I have tons of energy and passion. Why not? But it’s just not fair or wise to keep loading weight onto my body as though I am some kind of indefatigable sherpa and not a fairly small person with an insatiable appetite, love of food and rebellious denial of the effects of both.

I saw this morning that our fall district minister’s retreat is on the subject of self-care, and that it will be led by a colleague who runs several miles a day and who has always been incredibly fit and trim. He has a message that clergy have to model health and wellness in body as well as soul. Isn’t that serendipitalicous?

I can’t make weight loss my goal, because I know how THAT works, and it’s called failure. But when I get home I am going to join Weight Watchers with the aim of re-learning portion sizes and mindfulness in the mangia department. I’m going to try to find some kind of dance class or activity to do on a regular basis, return to the gym (I actually LIKE the gym!) and I’m going to have a long hard talk with myself about some of the habits that need to get kicked to the curb (like reading celebrity gossip mags or beauty magazines while munching snacks as the ultimate brainless break).

While on the Oregon coast the other day I was praying about the weeks of summer: “God, what would you have me do with this time?” And God said, “HOW ABOUT TAKING CARE OF YOURSELF, DINGBAT?”
And I said, “Oh! Ha ha! Oh yeah! Thanks, God! I forgot all about that!”