Surly's Soap Box

We made the Christmas Pilgrimage to Lincoln, Nebraska (Birth place of Sweeter Half, residence of her parents) this last week. Got a chance to see a 10 month old niece, sister and brother-in-law, a bunch of other relatives, grandmas and greats and on and on. It was a good time, though I think my hyper-intelligent, future Noble prize winning beauty queen daughter grew bored with adult company and spent much of her time changing her doll's clothing. She's gathered up enough doll clothes now that she now has a summer and winter wardrobe.

But now we are back, and tomorrow enter back into the regular grind of things. I wish I could talk about how inspired I was by the season, and how the gathering of family was so much sweeter than usual, or the celebration of Christ's Birth meant so much more to me than usual, but...it didn't really have any profound effect on me this year. At least, not yet.

Round the table for Christmas dinner sat some very fine, wonderful oldsters that I've grown fond of since Sweeter Half and I were married. Ranging from late 70's to 90, they represent a generation who talk about their dads and grandparents who came over from Sweden and settled in the plains, men with names like Calmar, Bjorne, Rolfe and Torkel, and women like Mia, Ingrid, Kjersten, and Violet. Some who never moved more than a few miles from the houses they were born in, some who went to California and then came back. A real connection to the past, these folks saw little rural communities grow and expand, then wither and collapse. And they all mourn for a simpler time, as well as mourn for loved ones who have passed on.

Around that same table, with their memories, also sat strokes, cancer survivors, a couple of bionic knees, and numerous medications for ailments I don't even pretend to understand. Some speak of the oldest like, "If she makes it through the winter..." and others speak of themselves, wondering the same.

But they didn't speak in bitterness, just in resignation that this was life: They've lived it long and fruitful, and now the younger folks have to make their way. And they all seem to agree that those of us who are younger and take up the torch have a harder time ahead of them than they had.

It was a unique table we sat at, and it is doubtful my wife and I will have the opportunity to have another Christmas like this, soaking in history. Next year we will all be scattered to the different parts of the country, the plans already being made. It may only be family history to some, but it is part of the history of the Great Plains, effecting numerous families, spreading like the ripples in a pond, across the world.

What will make this Christmas memorable is the time when we are gathered together in the future, over a bittersweet cup of coffee, discussing the last Christmas we spent with one of these great pillars of their communities and churches. How they have passed on, severing a link to some distant cousin in Sweden or Ohio, and how we realize that we should have taken notes and gotten addresses.

What will make this Christmas memorable is when, in some distant future, over a cup of coffee after the lutefisk and ousta kakka, my wife and I pass on the lore of our family to our kids and grand-kids, the circle completed, the torch passed on.

I'll catch ya all up on the MOB party tomorrow. Sweeter Half and I had a great time, met up with some friends and believe we've made some new ones.

I'm having oral surgery tomorrow morning. I can't imagine the pain from that and the recovery being any worse than what I've been going through this week, but I think I can see the light at the end of the tunnel here: A couple more days of discomfort and moving on from there.

My surly husband is right in the sense that this has been an emotional roller coaster. This whole church in transition thing really threw me for a loop. On Monday, when I was supposed to be focused on the many important actions on my list of to dos, I was amazed at how much of my brainpower was being chewed up thinking about how our pastor presented us (meaning the church body) the gift of the church that he and his family so sacrificially planted and nurtured for the last 10 years.

Tonight, I questioned his analogy of it being like "picking up the keys" as if the church were something as easy to drive as say a used car perhaps. It's not that easy, both Surly and I have acknowledged that. But then again what is easy?

When a teenager learns to drive a car it isn't as automatic as it is for someone who's been driving for nearly 20 years or more. They need to be fully engaged. Their eyes are being trained to focus on the road ahead as well as any obstacles that would appear around them. Their ears need to be trained on their instructor (yes this is a situation where a teen learns the value of listening to their parents). The young driver is also aware with their hands and feet. Just learning the rocking motion of their feet as they move from gas pedal to break and adjusting their hands to the 10 o'clock and 2 o'clock principle takes some awareness. Basically, a young teen driver, who wants to stay on the road, is fully engaged with their whole body.

I think it is the same for our little church. If we want to make a go of it we need all of the members to get engaged. We can't find our way as a body without those who have the gift of vision. We won't make it if our ears aren't attuned to God and to the valuable wisdom of those God may bring to help us. It will also take the hands and feet of all who are involved to truly make a go of things.

Whether or not we can pull off the kind of full-body engagement to make a go of things is to be seen, but in order for us to really grab hold of the keys and take our little church for a drive we're going to need everyone’s gifts to do it.

This brings be to my Project Managers perspective. I'm a marketing communications project manager by day and in my role I assign work to people who are gifted to do various tasks. Each individuals role is specific, important, and rarely interchangeable. I think it is the same in our congregation.

To make a go of it as a body, I believe there are three things that need to be in play:
1) People need to understand their giftings.
2) The body needs to acknowledge their giftings.
3) People need to do the things that God has gifted them to do.

If we can do these three things, I think we'll make it as a church. But, as Surly said, I don't want to force it. God's going to have to be our "driving instructor". Without his coaching, we may run off the road.

Before I get to what a 3-year-old buy's for mom's birthday, let me just interject that, whilst Dave had a bummer of an evening on Friday night (see his post), I had a wonderful time with the gals. Could one expect anything less, when you take into consideration a wide assortment of libations, an amazing spread of appetizers, and a gaggle of giddy gals overflowing in effervescence? While I enjoyed myself tremendously ... I only had one Cosmo and one glass of wine over the course of several hours, and I was home by 10:30 (honestly, you can ask Surly).

Despite the late night, I was up with the daughter at 6:30 this morning and Dave had us all showered and dressed and out the door by 8 a.m. — quite impressive for a Saturday, if you ask me. Given that the daughter's love for all things pancake were unrequited, our morning started with a trip to The Egg & I (I managed to score an upgrade from IHOP, given that it's my birthday and all).

After breakfast, Surly surprised us with a trip to IKEA, which happens to be one of my new favorite "hundred-dollar stores". We bought a few affordably priced and equally fun things ... including of course some things for the daughter ... do we ever go anywhere without getting her anything? Anyhow, the visit was fun and fruitful.

Following our blue and yellow adventure, we stopped at my all time favorite "hundred-dollar store" for a few home essentials and a very specific mission on the part of the daughter ... mom's birthday present. While Dave and the daughter entered into her birthday present quest, I wandered the store in search of the home essentials which are often the reason for going into such stores and rarely then only item in the cart when one exits.

Soon, they caught up to me in the store and the daughter was grinning ear to ear. She could barely stand the anticipation of mom discovering what was in the brightly colored gift bag she bore. As we finish our shopping and head out of the store ... word of the contents of the mysterious gift bag leaked out of then daughter like cackles out of a magpie. "Mommy you can share your ... with me when you open it?" I pretend not to have heard the leak.

When we got home Surly had the daughter signed their birthday card and present the gift to me. She practically jumped out of her skin with excitement when I final extract the present from the gift bag.

"Why it's a My Little Pony Styling Pony Pinkie Pie" just what mommy always wanted? Oh thanks, I'm sure mommy (the daughter) will have hours of fun playing with it."

Seriously though, I'm sure that in her bright albeit practical 3-year-old’s mind there could be no better gift than one that she and mommy could enjoy together.

I love my daughter and I love being a mom ... and well, OK, I love being the wife of Surly, too.

Now about that trip to the jewelry store Dave alluded to in his post ... no little boxes for me to open yet, but we'll see. It had better be something good. It would have to be to out do my precious pony present.

The yin to his yang … every surly guy needs some sugar in his life. Since my dear husband has sneakily sunk me into the blogosphere by calling on my creative side and helping him design his new template, I guess I’ll have to submit myself to the world of bloggers by agreeing to be an occasional contributor. Hopefully the cynical among Dave’s regular readers won’t mind the occasional post from “optimistic me”.

It’s tough wearing rose colored glasses in a world as chaotic as ours, but if you always look at your glass as half empty, you’ll live your life never feeling satisfied and more thirsty than not. I prefer to look at life with a more positive world view. So, hopefully over time I’ll add a little light-hearted balance to the surliness (not to say that this site, or my husband for that matter, is completely lacking in levity … can you say handle bar moustache?).

About the “ a.k.a. Effervescent Ingrid” … that’s the name that The Night Writer gave me after the Annual MOB Christmas bash. I’ll let Dave’s regular readers determine if that name holds water.

P.S. After wasting away a good chunk of our Saturday between designing the "soap box" and figuring out how the heck to get it uploaded, I'm anxious to hear what people think of the new skin on Surly's new digs.