Let me depart from the world of crazy celebrity/royal fashion and eye cream recommendations for a moment to talk about self-care a bit.

I was talking with a newbie minister the other day who was being very hard on herself for “breaking the covenant” she had made with God to be healthy and especially to refrain from compulsive overeating.

As you know, PeaceBang knows PUH-LENTY about compulsive overeating, and about the struggles to keep from comforting oneself with an overly-full tummy.

This new pastor had had some particularly tough losses in the past months and was experiencing for the first time ministering when you’re feeling fragile and pulled in seventeen different directions, trying to meet too many people’s needs. She ate over it. Lots of sugar. And not only did she physically feel lousy, she felt like a sinner. We mulled over her decision to use the word “sin” to describe her overeating. Yes, technically it is a sin to do harm, even to oneself. But is that language helpful or harmful in this situation? She had chosen it intentionally because she wanted to think about her binge theologically. Which is a good place to start. What we do with our bodies is most certainly about our relationship to God and our understanding and experience of God’s presence or absence in our lives. We are all broken; we are all sinners. When we use the word “sin” to express the sense of our own brokenness, does that seem like condemnation or does it invite compassion and reconciliation?

I asked her, “If you had a friend who was hurting herself in some way because she was under so much stress, would you consider her a sinner?” As it turns out, no. She would have compassion for that hypothetical friend. She would try to support her.

The point here is pretty obvious but let me make it anyway: although it’s true that some clergy persons are sick little bundles of denial, engaging in secret, dysfunctional and destructive behaviors that will harm themselves and their congregations, my experience informs me that most of us are painfully aware of our failures, shortcomings and addictive tendencies and are, in fact, quite unforgiving about them. We are spiritual and professional perfectionists, many of us, trying not only to do the right things but to think the right thoughts and to have the right feelings. This is the aim of our spiritual disciplines — “God, make pure my heart within me” — “May my the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable in Thy sight, O Lord my rock and my redeemer,” etc. Good God, kids, do you think the average investment banker, schoolteacher, hairdresser, waitress,retail clerk or engineer puts themselves through that kind of rigorous self-policing throughout the day? Hells no!

Pigeons, forgive yourselves. Put down the chocolate bar, the pizza, the pastries or whatever it is that plagues and poisons you, wipe off your mouth with a nice napkin, and move on. You can always flagellate yourself later, after you’ve had a nice long walk, a bath and a cup of peppermint tea. Why kick yourself when you’re down (or on a bad “up” from too much sugar, fat and carbs)? What good does that do you, and how does that honor your covenant with God?

I myself, after finally having hit the 20+ lbs. lost mark last Saturday, am having a bad week with food. And why wouldn’t I? The weather is dreary, I’ve been seriously crampy and headachy for days, my lower back hurts (I’m carrying tons of tension there but yoga poses are helping a lot), people I dearly love are terminally ill, in hospital with various other painful ailments and suffering other kinds of losses (and isn’t that always the case in parish ministry?). I’m post-Easter weary, I’m dreading my May sabbatical time (funny, in’t that?), I’m tired of being disciplined around food and I just want to eat huge bowls of Kashi cereal with dark chocolate chips in them. And so what. My job as I see it right now is to hang on to my little boat while the waves swell and crest, to weep freely as I need to, and to monitor my eating not for Weight Watchers compliance right now but just to assure that my eating doesn’t go from Tired Girl Indulging territory into Good Lord, All Hell Has Broken Loose and Now She’s Into Serious Buffalo Wing Abuse territory.

No, I won’t get to the gym today, either. I’ll get there tomorrow and both God and I will forgive me for it. If I gain a pound, that’s a trespass that can be forgiven, too.

Being beautiful, vibrant and polished as a public religious leader does not mean achieving perfection. It means being alive in God’s presence and unafraid to communicate that presence to a broken world. If today all you can manage is to lay your burden down and rest in God’s care, do it. You’ll know you need to when you find yourself too exhausted to apply mascara or to properly comb your hair. Be careful out there, my lovely ones. Attend to yourself as you would a visiting dignitary, with all due respect and hospitality. For if you do not, your psyche and your body will go out together for coffee without you and devise mischievous schemes to get your attention.

Put down the donuts, back away from the ciggies, get back to a 12-step meeting for over-spending, overeating, alcoholism, sex or drug addiction, stop being a superhero. Toss the M&M’s in the trash, smash the Doritos and run water over them, douse the ice cream with kosher salt. Unplug the phone, cancel a meeting, ask for help. Delegate, see your therapist, let God run the world for a day without you.

God has made a good gift in you. Love yourselves, forgive the sins, and move on. Better yet, move to the bed and take a nap.

Just a note to say that three days of proper facial care (including toner and moisturizer and eye cream, in addition to the witch hazel treatment) have already made a world of difference, and I haven’t even tried the makeup (though I will admit I bought some…we’ll see if I need it on Sunday). My congregation’s president said I “looked well-rested” when we met today–the first time she has ever said something like that.

m

Thanks for letting us know, hon. And amen.

I said attending, and aren’t I the lucky one? It is not my congregation’s tradition to offer either of these services, so I get to be a worshiper this Holy Week before joining with my own dearly beloveds for Easter morning at my own congregation.

But I am thinking of those of you who will be very much on the run over the next few days and I simply want to say, please take care of your good selves. Please eat well, stay hydrated, wash your hands often, rest as much as you are able between public appearances, keep a fresh hankie on you at all times, be careful shaving (gents) and ladies, bring an extra pair of pantyhose for an emergency and a comfy pair of slippers to church to slip on in the privacy of your study.

Scrub under your nails every night, wash your face well and with care, don’t over-do the caffeine (let the Holy Spirit do more and you won’t need so much java), keep your hair clean and neat, and tuck a lip balm into your pocket. When you get a moment in the sacristy, sit up in a chair and take ten slow, deep breaths. Rub your hands together to warm them and cup them over your eyes. Take your vitamins. Shine your shoes. Check yourself in the mirror before you go out to wash feet tomorrow night. Even servant leaders don’t want to have spinach stuck between their teeth.

Remember that PeaceBang loves you, is praying for your strength and stamina during this very challenging week, and knows that you will bring the beauty and grace of God to all those you encounter.

You are the resurrection and the life! Hallelujah, pigeons!

But I will, because I skipped it all last week and I felt like I was dragging even after my cold was well cured.

Where is God at the gym/treadmill/hiking trail/swimming pool/ski slope/racquetball court/dance floor for you?

For me, the Spirit comes as a joyful healer as I reach a steady cardio heart rate and the thoughts go, emotions go and I am just Being, just a creature working her muscles and tendons for the movement of it, for the chance to ignore inner strength for an hour or so and concentrate solely on external strength.

I have just learned that a deeply gifted minister of young middle age is leaving his church due to heart problems following a serious heart attack late this summer. I know that I am not alone in feeling crushed by this news –he is truly a gift to our movement, a charismatic and brilliant and funny and deeply spiritual man — not to mention so fit and health-conscious that one would have never imagined this prognosis for him. This is just further proof that, in case we had forgotten it, we are fragile and anything can happen.

Now the snowflakes are enormous and fluffy, each one practically the size of a moth ball. Holy cow.

Take care of yourselves, Incarnate Ones. Make sure to shake that groove thang soon, ’cause there’s more of value to your ministry than that space between your ears.

PeaceBang has a little swollen eye just now, probably from a head cold that is GONE after 24 hours because of the magic of Neti Pot, Neti Pot, Neti Pot… I am a tireless evangelist for the wonders of the Neti Pot! Here, for your viewing pleasure is that scary, bug-eyed woman Neti-potting her nose, in case you haven’t seen it. The trick is to breathe through your mouth and to keep a box of tissues nearby. Neti Pot is The Answer!!
Twenty minutes pouring warm salt water through my very stuffy schnoz on Sunday morning until both nostrils were clear, and then again Sunday night when I felt as sick and exhausted as a cat left out in a storm, and then again on Monday morning, has left me healthy and fine, while SweetieBang’s cold is settling in his chest for a walrusy cough and more sinus honking — That is my TESTIMONIAL! Amen! But I digress.

Because I have this tiny swelling in my left eyelid I have made sure to
(a) avoid all eye make-up for a few days and
(b) throw out my possibly infected mascara and
(c) clean all my eye make-up brushes, including my eyelash curlers.

Origins makes a fine spray cleaner, but a mild shampoo will do as well. Wash your brushes and applicators in warm, soapy (shampoo-y) water and rinse. Blot on a clean towel, re-shape and lay flat to dry.

If you have a sty (and I’m not sure this is a sty — it’s a very minor swelling that may be a result of rubbing my itchy eyes a lot on Sunday), do NOT share towels and washcloths. Launder pillowcases in hot water and apply a warm compress to the eye when you can.

Neti Pot! Neti Pot! Clean brushes! Health and happiness! Many exclamation points!

Christmas is long gone and we’ve recovered. Easter is coming but we’re deeply into Lent and although the days are getting longer, we’re still… well… deeply into Lent. It’s not that we want to skip Lent, but Lent can be so Lent-y, and a girl can only spend so many hours a day in prayer, penitence and self-denial. The round of visits, meetings, newsletter columns, sermons, advocacy, rites of passage, potlucks, classes, continue unabated (thanks be to God) and although we might be dutifully taking care of ourselves in the most basic ways (eating well, resting enough, exercising, engaging in spiritual practice, getting out for some fun with friends/family now and then), we can feel in a bit of a rut, wearing the same four or five outfits every day, eating the same sandwich for lunch, and even thinking a lot of the same kinds of thoughts. We haven’t made a new recipe in eons, we haven’t put time aside to noodle on the piano (or banjo), we haven’t painted or thrown a pot since Advent, and we just know that our calendar won’t allow for any creative pursuits for awhile yet. It’s too early to garden, and although we’re grateful to God and mostly content, we just want a little zippy something to look forward to.

It’s when PeaceBang starts to feeling this way that she tries to breathe deeply and embrace the season, to listen to the same meditation music every night, stay the course, and to see God in the ordinary — but also to make sure she walks the fine line between Lenten interiority and just plain Drab Winter Doldrums carefully lest she tip over and get a whopping case of the blues. And therefore, somewhere between her mid-January birthday and Mardi Gras, she likes to tuck a few fun things away that she can pull out come early spring that will put a huge smile on her face and give her a little shot of the girlie joy. Yes, it’s materialistic and shallow, perhaps, but it’s also about celebration, hope and anticipation of warmer and sunnier days ahead.

This year, my Mardi Gras put-it-away-for-later-because-life-is-not-just-a-vale-of-tears purchase was made at the Dillards in Naples, Florida. You can blame Rali if you hate it — (mine is a bit of smaller print and has different, cuter buttons) — it was on major, major, major sale (like 70% off) and she convinced me that it looks great on me:

The other purchase was a small one, a little rock-and-roll girl eyeshadow by Urban Decay called Narcotic that is this exact color:

It looks good, I promise. Not as trashy and saucy as it does on her,
but dramatic and gorgeous for a date night out (not, for heaven’s sake, anywhere near church!).

These are my two little give-me-a-giggle fashion treats to look forward to. The fact that some friends just gave me a ukulele as a gift just adds to the glee. A UKLELE!! I am SO excited!! Of course I will happily play it like a 6-year old, but it’s a beautiful instrument, have you seen this exquisite video?

God knows ya gotta have some glee, children. PeaceBang thinks that glee can be worn by pastors, and should be, as long as they
know what they’re projecting, and are doing it with confidence, panache and a sense of whimsy. Go get you some glee.

What gives? Is the air THAT dirty? Allergies? Cheapo drugstore brand solution that promises to clean and disinfect but lies through its teeth? Thoughts, wearer of contacts?

So, I’m a bit behind lately and have so many products to review for you! And speaking of behind, Weight Watchers is my new BFF. Even with a fellow foodie in the house and lots more forbidden foods around and tempting me, I’m still slowly but surely dropping the lbs. by writing everything down and getting back on program right away after I get off. The gym is also a major factor. I love that stupid gym now. It is SO GOOD to see results. Very few people but me notice the loss yet but it’s such a relief to just zip up the jeans and have some room to spare. It’s so good not to feel like a stuffed sausage in my sweaters. Best of all, I feel the urge to compulsively nosh my face much less frequently. That’s why I sing the praises of WW: they make explicit and easy the direct correlation between input of food and output of energy. For me, it takes away the emotional agita and guilt around over-eating. My thinking simply becomes: “Well, I ate a lot more today than I could have possibly burned off. That won’t result in a day of weight loss but weight gain. Do I choose that, or do I choose something else?” You can’t argue with calories — they’re not moral entities but chemical ones. You consume them or you don’t. You consume them in the form of fried calamari or in the form of a huge salad that will keep you fuller longer. I am spending more time in food preparation now than I ever have before, but it all weighs out fairly evenly since it takes time to get out of the car and pick up take-out, too.

For helping with refraining from compulsive overeating efforts, I would like to say hanks so much to the Online Ministry Posse. I hope you’re all doing well; please write in if you want support and prayers from “the compassionate void.”

About six years ago, PeaceBang took a “vacation” after the holidays which consisted of driving to New Hampshire (2 hours or so away), staying in a hotel, eating meals alone, and sliding home down the highway through a blizzard two nights later. This experience was more depressing than 21 straight days of rain in May (that happened one memorable year, too, and just the memory of it makes me want to stick a fork in my eye), and the following year PeaceBang said to her Board of Trustees and Worship Committee, “I’d like to take two weeks of my vacation time in January, if you please.” Because they are good and wise people, they said, “Why, certainly.” I gratefully packed myself off to Mexico, and a January vacation has remained a cherished institution in my life since then. Not only restful but productive: I outlined no fewer than four sermons after good, long, uninterrupted afternoon naps, and read several eminently preachable books and articles.
We NEED TIME OFF AND AWAY, my doves. We are not automatons, we cannot drive to the great spiritual filling station on a random busy afternoon and expect to get a full tank of the Holy Spirit and drive away humming “How Great Thou Art.” The body gets tired, the brain gets weary, the spirit starts to drag and stagger, and the psyche craves deep time in the well of silence and restorative sleep.

You must advocate for vacation time for yourself. You must put aside savings for it. You must understand that you need and deserve REAL time off. No, Jesus did not go on vacation. But let’s remember how short his earthly ministry was, my friends. You are in this for the duration and the last time I looked, none of ya’ll could walk on water, either.

So PeaceBang came home from vacation and noticed today that the TULIPS ARE BACK in the florist shops, a fact that made her sigh with rapturous, sensual pleasure (oh, those oranges! those lipstick pinks! Delicious!) and a blunt, creaturely yearning for beauty. She filled her eyes with their saturated colors and thought of all of you, all of us, and wished this wish:

“I hope my powder pigeons are right now pushing their chairs back from their desks, looking out the window for a friendly chickadee or slash of turquoise sky, laughing belly laughs with a trusted friend, feeding themselves with something exquisite and nourishing instead of grabbing a granola bar in the car, and taking a few moments on the way out of the hospital to stop in the gift shop to play with the stuffed animals before they head to their next meeting. I hope some of them are stopping to inhale the smell of their children’s nap-sweaty heads, getting a massage, painting their toenails Dutch Tulip red, sneaking off for an afternoon at the movies, stirring a pot of intoxicating chowder for a posse of pals, or making love. I hope they are stopping to breathe, to absorb color and light, to let music wash over them like a divine anointing, and allowing themselves uninterrupted moments of simple human pleasure.”

Here in the northeast we’re just starting the Drab Time of year. So from here on in until the chinook starts blowing in, I will try to have tulips in my home to remind me of all the glory that abounds, even under the tired-looking snow and in the austere New England winter landscape.

Be beautiful!

PeaceBang obtained a Neti pot a few weeks ago and cannot say enough good things about it. Since she started using it, she doesn’t even need a humidifier in the house anymore, because she doesn’t get stuffy.

I remember in 1991, doing a long-run production of “Do Black Patent Leather Shoes Really Reflect Up?” at the Des Plaines Theatre Guild in Des Plaines, IL. The run got extended twice and I was just dead ill, trying to teach high school during the day and play an elementary school-age child in a hilarious musical requiring a lot of frenetic singing and dancing. One of our tricks (I think we all had colds and flus at least one weekend) was to mix up little handfuls of warm salt water in our palms backstage and snort them up our noses before big numbers, to hydrate and clear our heads. It really did work. The Neti pot is a much calmer and more sanitary version of that same idea.

You mix up some pure sea salt (nothing iodized) with warm water in the Neti pot, plug one nostril with the spout, tilt your head over the sink, keep your mouth open, and let the stream of water flush you out, way up into the sinus cavities. You snarf out all the nasty stuff (keep tissues nearby), and then repeat with the other side. Be sure not to use too much salt, which can burn, and keep the water tepid-to-warm, not warm-hot (ouch!). You don’t want to boil your brains.

Some mornings — and I’m trying not to be too graphic here — I don’t even feel stuffy but five minutes after using the Neti pot I’m blowing merrily away into my Kleenex and being quite, um, productive. Do I hear a choir of nuns singing, “The Hills Are Alive With the Sound of Mucus?” I mean, this definitely isn’t the kind of thing you want to do in front of your hot new lover. “Pardon me, my exquisite darling, while I stick this ceramic doohickey up my nose and flush my cranium.” It’s not a very appealing thing to watch.

I really wish I could do this for my cat, who has snuffly-nosed tendencies, but I’m sure she would misunderstand my good intentions and engage in severe forms of social protest like howling and scratching the bejesus out of me. Someone obviously needs to design a tiny kitty cat neti pot. Remember a year ago when she was in the hospital in the oxygen chamber clinging to life? And you were all so wonderful praying for her? Don’t think we have forgotten. So kisses from PeaceBang and Ermengarde, both of whom are breathing blessedly well this January.

“Thanx, everyone. I doing really well now. My paw fur growed back where it was shaved, so cuteness factor not at all impaired. ”

It’s just that, you see, I joined Weight Watchers in early December and I’ve been very devoted to it. The results have been very positive. You go to a meeting, you get “weighed in” (like a truck), they hand you your little booklet, you attend a meeting where you learn fascinating things like how to make pumpkin mousse, and everyone claps for each other for losing 1/8 of an oz. or whatever. I did a brief stint in WW during my college years and loathed it — I felt starved all the time and I hated the meetings — but now I can cook, I’m not going to let the wacky sitcom atmosphere of the meetings get to me, and I’m trying to learn how to eat like a person who isn’t a compulsive overeater. I carry my little POINTS PLAN book around with me, I am really trying to learn how fattening things are, and what a regular portion looks like. Along the way, I want to drop some pounds. I’m willing to take my time, I’m not thinking about it constantly, I have a great Online Ministry Posse to write to when I need moral support, all is well, etc. and bla bla bla.

So I step on the scale tonight expecting to see a significant loss of butter and the gal goes, “Here you go. You lost one pound.” And I go, “WHAT?” She sees my face fall down somewhere around my ankles and she calls over a leader (on nametag: “I LOST 29 LBS IN 1998″) who asks me these questions:

Leader: Did you eat all your allowed points?
Me: NO!! I was so busy and I didn’t have time to keep track, so I just ate little bits of things and lots of vegetables — I did go to restaurants but I did really well, I think, I know that on a couple of days I ate quite a bit less than I was allowed.
Leader: Did you work out?
Me: YES! Four times this week! I did cardio, I lifted weights, I sweated! I drank lots of water!
Leader: But you didn’t eat more to allow for that, right?
Me: No, I just figured I’d lose more weight if I didn’t use the points earned during exercise.
Leader: Did you use up your 35 flex points?
Me: No. I’m pretty sure I didn’t.
Leader: You know what happened? YOU DIDN’T EAT ENOUGH THIS WEEK!! And your body probably thought it was starving, and it slowed down your metabolism to compensate. You have to eat all your points. Eat more when you exercise, and use your flex points.
Me: This is the first time in my life anyone has ever told me to eat more. Except for my Baba, God rest her soul.

So kids, the moral of this stupid moment in my life is that if you’re on a weight loss program, don’t be all Diet Ninja about it and starve yourself. Eat enough food, okay? Get your fruits and veggies in there, and enough hydration, and if you’ll excuse me now I’m going to have half a cup of pumpkin ice cream with dark chocolate chips mixed in.