I could hear every word...

I once heard a saying that went something like this: Most people, if given the chance, will do the right thing most of the time.

I would like to share a new version of that teaching based on what I have learned in the reception line at the door of the church after the service. It is this: Most people, if given the chance, will say what they mean, somehow.

For those of you outside the church (or even those in it), you would be AMAZED at some of the things people will share as they shake your hand. Mostly, I very much appreciate them, as they are the comments that keep me humble, especially the ones about my preaching.

Now, I am not a great preacher. No, don't argue. I've been told so by very famous experts. But that is okay. I think I am decent (when I try) and I am at peace with that. When I was in seminary, I used to think I was great, but that was before I actually did it for a living. As it turns out, there is a difference between preaching once a month in your seminary gig (and having a month to prepare!) and preaching every week for the whole year. The later is like long distance running, a completely different activity than the 100 meter dash, one which requires patience and training.

But I digress. The real point is the things that people have said to me about my preaching, things that have informed how I see myself as a minister. Some of those who train ministers will tell you that you'll never hear honest feedback on preaching again after you leave seminary, but I've not found that to be true. Here are some of the highlights:

"I really liked your message today. It was so much more authentic than those other sermons you give about books and stuff."

"How many pages was your sermon today?"

"I can't really remember how our old pastor preached. I just remember that it was always really, you know, relevant."

Him: "Your sermon just wasn't very...funny." Me: "Well.....it was about death." Him: "Yeah...I guess. But you're so funny. It just wasn't that funny."

"I love your sermons, Pastor. They're so....short!"

Her: "I'd really like it if you preached more about the bible." Me: "I do preach about the bible." Her: "Oh. I guess I can't tell."

"I think you're going to be an amazing preacher in 5 to 10 years."

And one of my favorites: Her: "I could hear every word you said from the back pew." Me: "Yes, and what did you think about the content?" Her: Pause. "I could hear every word."

Jammin'

Okay, friends. I thought I should update you about having made my first forray into the wild world of food preservation.

When I recently became obsessed with localvorism, I vowed that I would learn to can. "I'm going to can EVERYTHING," I told anyone who would listen. "I'll probably never go to the grocery store again," I self-righteously proclaimed.

I should note, for the sake of honesty, that upon hearing this my friend LW burst out laughing and screamed, "But why? They have CANS of stuff at the store."
"But this is BETTER," I said. "And FRESHER. And probably CHEAPER." I was right on the middle count, wrong on the others as it were. She was not the only one who was skeptical, however. My mother (helpfully) wondered where I was going to PUT the cans, given that our apartment is smaller than most average-sized SUVs. This is not to mention where I was going to put the canning equipment (which apparently includes a 200 gallon pot that, in retrospect, may not have fit on our 3/4 sized stove.)

So after waking up to reality and doing a bit of research, I decided that first I would try freezing. There are tons of recipes online for Freezer Jam, which you can make in smaller batches and store in the freezer until ready to use.

So I set out, bought some local raspberries and some type of crazy hippy pectin from the local co-op, went home and set about preserving.

Now, I must admit that this first attempt may not have been "worth it" in the traditional sense. Especially given the fact that it took several hours and my kitchen ended up looking like this:

However, ultimately, I did end up with a jam-like product that I had made myself, which was pretty thrilling (I was concerned that what I was actually making was frozen-fruit-mush, but it did set up overnight and turned very jam-ish.).

On the price front, however, I did not triumph. Total cost? $17. Which, as you might guess, is slightly more than even gourmet store-bought jam.

So the final count, as I see it, is as follows:
Me: 1
My friend LW: 1
Global Warming: 0

Can't wait until the next round!

I'm a PILOT!

So, I'd like to officially nominate my husband for "Best Spouse on the Planet." (And no, I'm not biased.)

His nomination is based on many qualities and incidents (some of which have been reported here, some not), but mostly right now because for my birthday this year, he gave me the best gift ever.....WINGS!!

Well, actually, he gave me a day trip to Martha's Vineyard (which is paradise by the way, if you ever have the chance to visit). The most exciting and luxurious part of the day however was the fact that we flew there!
Typically, to get to Martha's Vineyard, one drives from Cambridge to Woods Hole, MA at the Southern base of Cape Cod (about a 2 hour drive with no traffic which is, well, never), after which one would park and make one's way to the ferry which would (in about an hour) take you to Martha's Vineyard. But, if you are REALLY cool, or your husband is SUPER amazing, you can FLY from Boston Logan in a tiny 10-seat Cesna across the coast to MV in just 37 minutes.
And, as if this special treatment weren't enough, I got to sit COPILOT on our way down. (This was not a part of the birthday plan, in fact, just a fluke of weight balance needs and the fact that we were at the front of the line.) It was INCREDIBLE! The dials were whirring and buzzing and the engines were LOUD as we bounced through the puffy clouds and watched the central coast of Massachusetts float by. The low altitude meant we could see EVERYTHING as we passed by: buildings we recognized and all the tiny inlets and moored boats as we approached the Cape.

We landed smoothly around 9:15 a.m. and spent the day touring around the island, eating crab cakes on the Marina, visiting light houses and swimming in the ocean. It was amazing.

Upon arriving back at the airport an hour before our flight, the woman at the counter asked "Boston?" (It's not that big of an airport.) When we said "yes," she said, "Great, we've been waiting for you." and quickly escorted us through security and in a few minutes onto the runway. We were apparently the only passengers on the return flight and flew in private style back to Boston at sunset.

What a day! Needless to say at this moment I am seriously considering getting my pilot's license and also winning the lottery. But, until I can work on that stuff, let me just say, "Thanks, Mr.LIOLI..you're the BEST!"