Matrimonial Boom can be a Ministerial Bust

Mr. L and I managed to accomplish a huge feat this week: Actually discussing and planning one third of our summer vacation plans after only 13 weeks of saying, "we need to plan our vacation" and then not doing it and watching more Modern Family (which is one of the best shows ever, by the way) plus a few episodes of Glee. But I am telling you this because in looking over my summer schedule to prepare for this conversation, I had a shocking realization: This is the first summer in about a decade that I will not participate in or preside over a single wedding. WOAH.

Since reaching the age of 22, weddings have been a big part of my life as friend after friend has taken the plunge into matrimony, and Mr. L and I have come along for the ride, sometimes donning brightly colored dresses (me mostly) or tuxedos (him mostly), or sometimes just being part of the revelrous crowd. We love weddings and think it important to bear witness to these important events in our friends' lives (apart from which Mr. L LOVES wedding cake.) But since becoming a minister things have become much more serious for me. It is quite cool to have someone you know as the officiant at your wedding (I know this as we had several people who knew us as officiants in our wedding and it was cool). And so having become a minister exactly at the age in which many of my contemporaries were getting married has meant that I have gotten  swept up in the martial tide in an unexpected way.

Now, I, like many of my colleagues preparing for ministry, believed that officiating at weddings was going to be one of the most treasured privileges of my clerical status.  I had imagined myself presiding wisely and authoritatively over crowds of well-wishers and young happy lovers, sprinkling it all with a dose of humor and theological profundity, while finding the whole thing incredibly fulfilling and gaining the respect of colleagues and friends far and wide.  But it's turned out differently than that.

Because weddings are actually REALLY hard work. Ask any pastor, and he or she will likely tell you that they would MUCH rather preside over a funeral than a wedding.* Why, you ask? In short, because no one's been thinking about exactly what they want their funeral to be like since they were 7 years old.

Quite obviously, there are so many expectations surrounding a wedding. So many layers of emotion and anxiety and anticipation.  And while you might have high ideals that as a minister you will be a grounding spiritual force in this swirl of fantasy and logistical madness, that is only seldom the case. Many times, you end up being simply one more check box of an expectation fulfilled.  BUT, now here comes the really difficult part: the expectations of you can be high and vague at the same time. Though some people have constructed impressively detailed plans about what each piece of their wedding will look like (some before they even met their partner!), the ceremony and minister are not always a part of that fantasizing. They know it should be amazing and meaningful and unique and life-changing, but most have no idea what that will actually entail (especially if they are not plugged into a religious tradition already). And now you are in the super high-stakes game of trying to craft a meaningful ritual around your psychic predictions of the whims of a bride and groom with much more important things to do like choose the flower arrangements and create the DJ's playlist.  This becomes even more uncomfortable in this instances in which you are asked to set aside your own carefully molded and deeply held beliefs in favor of something "more neutral." ("Not too much of that Jesus talk that I know you're into, if you wouldn't mind.")  So you are left alone with the huge task of finding a way to say meaningful things and guide this couple into the world of marriage in a mature and wise way whether they're asking you to or not, often without the guidance and traditions of your own faith.** This takes thought and TIME, more than one might realize.

Additionally, being the officiant means you end up in this strange in-between place. You are not "in" the wedding, as in "in" the bridal party, and you don't get to experience the intimacy of those "in" moments. No matter the proximity of your friendship with the betrothed, you likely aren't invited to dressing room to see the holy moment of donning the gown or to the pre-wedding manicures or for a mimosa before the ceremony (though you might be the one who needs it the most!). No one cares if you are in any of the photographs or if you know the schedule of the day. You are like a free-agent milling the grounds waiting for your contracted part to being.  Yet at exactly the same time you are very much more "in" than anyone. You are the one there in the moment; it is you that is saying their vows alongside them, you who is ushering their marriage into the world, like some sort of matrimonial midwife. An incredibly intimate affair indeed.***

And all this adds up to quite a bit of tension and anxiety for Madame Minister. Now let me be clear:  And am I happy to be asked to officiate at weddings? YES, OF COURSE.. There are few greater honors. And it is sacred and a privilege? YES, CERTAINLY. And have I had fulfilling experiences? WITHOUT A DOUBT.
Some of my most favorite moments?
-Offering two of my dearest friends their first communion as a married couple as part of what I consider to be the Most Presbyterian Wedding Ceremony Ever Conceived (love you T & B!). It was so meaningful to be a part of something that represented my own tradition so thoroughly and the couple so authentically.

-Officiating at a tiny wedding ceremony atop a Portland, OR landmark....outside....in December..... in the snow and sleet....and seeing them be filled with happiness! I wouldn't have missed it. (K&N....hope to see you this summer!)
-Hearing a year later from friends and neighbors that they still remember my wedding sermon...and try to enact my advice! What a privilege to have spoken a word to you all that was helpful in your relationship, though you didn't need it, as you are an amazing couple. (K&S: If you are reading this, let's get drinks again soon!)
-Helping to co-officiate at my father-in-law's wedding to P (who we are so happy to have in our lives!).... It was such an honor to be invited into that special family event!
-My first ever wedding at the Grand Canyon, by far the most striking locale and two of my favorite people who also happen to be my cousins! Thanks for taking a chance on a novice officiant!
There have been more, though I don't have room to share them all here.

But I also feel compelled to share the challenges of this office. I should note that all my minister friends actually told me NOT to post these thoughts. Brides and grooms across the nation will be racked with self-reproach and fury if you critique your experience as their minister-in-that-moment, they warned. And I agree....sharing the frustrations of ministry with those to whom you are minister is tricky business (I still don't know how pastors get away with writing books about their congregants without totally betraying the pastoral relationship.....though I hope they tell me sometime, as I have some great stories!). But I do long for more awareness of what is being asked and what is being offered in the invitation to become an officiant. If folks don't know what it's like to be a minister, it's because we haven't told them. So I'm telling. And sharing my advice for how to help be a great couple to an officiant.

So here is the Love-it-or-leav-itt Guide to Interacting with Your Officiant in three simple steps:

1) Be professional. Maybe she is your cousin, or your best high school friend, or a buddy from the gym, but if she is also a minister, you must realize that she is a professional, and that you are asking her to support you in her capacity as a professional. Yes, this will blur the lines of your relationship a little bit. Yes, it my be uncomfortable. But becoming a minister takes years of preparation, significant education and, actually, a CALL FROM GOD. It is serious. And you should treat it that way.**** This means responding to her as a professional when you interact about officiating details. It also means allowing her to maintain her own professional integrity, whatever that means to her. And lastly, as this is a professional task, it is appropriate to offer to compensate her.***** You didn't ask the caterer to do this work "just for fun," and you shouldn't do the same with your minister either. Most likely she'll say, "No, way!"  But offering, directly and concretely, is essential. It is a clear way to say, "We recognize you are a professional. We appreciate your expertise. We know this is work for you."****** If you have limited funds, find another way to say these things (I am excitedly awaiting a custom-made communion set offered as a gift to me by a couple in whose wedding I recently participated....perfect!). Just be sure to do something. If you don't, you risk making her feel as if you don't appreciate her professional expertise. (Exceptions to this rule MAY include: 1) Family. It's still nice to offer, but likely not as necessary. 2) The Minister of the church of which you are a member. This is their job and one of the "perks" of being involved in a church community!)

2) Be Clear. Communicate clearly your desires and wishes. Perhaps even think ahead of time about what you want the ceremony to be like, what message you'd like it to convey, and what elements you'd like to include. I officiated for a couple once who came to our first meeting prepared with three themes they wanted to weave into their ceremony, along with readings and song choices that were meaningful to their families and an self-apapted version of a pastoral prayer I had sent to them. (M&T....you are the best!). They had no idea how immensely helpful this was in helping me to think through how to craft something that was be meaningful to them. I wish everyone did the same.

3) Be thankful. Being a minister means doing a lot of thankless work, work which most of us ministers feel called and privileged to do. But that doesn't mean we don't like getting thanked every now and again, especially if we have gone out of our way (for instance, by taking off one of our limited vacation Sundays in order to fly all over the world and marry you).  It helps to be thanked. Sincerely. Officially. Really. Maybe you could send a note (not the same one you sent to thank me for the $30 blender I got you, but actually a whole different note). And please don't say "Everyone really loved the ceremony." (We hear that all the time in the hand shaking line at the back of church....and it is a central truth that people will lie through their teeth in that line. ) Instead try, "It was so meaningful to me, personally, because....." We will cherish these words. We will put them in a file and read them when we are down and out, and they will be like manna for us in the wilderness of a trying job. As will the memories of couples who we have had the privilege to join together.

I hope whoever is reading this will not take offense at anything I've said here. What I do hope is that you will convey this information to your friends and loved ones who are on the verge of tying the knot, helping out a few of my many colleagues along the way and making the world of ministry and marriage a happier place for all!

And now, by the power invested in me by the world wide web, I declare this rant over!

*This is a verifiable fact...if you're not a minister you won't believe me, and likely if you ask a minister, they may lie to you about this, but it is TRUE.
**This is tough, right? Because you want to be open and affirming and create something that authentically reflects the people getting married, while at the same time you don't want to throw all your integrity about your own beliefs and commitments out the window. I have some friends who will refuse to perform any wedding that is not Christian....I don't know that I'm quite there, but it is a little bit deflating to be told not to use any theological language after spending years preparing to become a theological authority in the world.
***Strangely, in the instances in which I've officiated at the weddings of more distant friends, I've found there can be some awkwardness after the intimacy of being in the midst of someone's wedding covenant,  from which the friendship may or may not recover.  It's like making out with someone for the first time and then meeting them for coffee later....it's a challenge to return to a more shallow level of intimacy.
**** Please, please, please, please PLEASE do not get me started on getting ordained online to perform weddings. While I completely understand the impetus behind this and know many people who have chosen to do this for various reasons, it can feel like a bit of a slap in the face to have others accept a privilege for which I spent years preparing with the click of a button. I like Massachusetts' model of allowing a civilian to become a Justice of the Peace for a day in order to perform a wedding ceremony. This seems to make more sense and more importantly doesn't piss me off.
***** People will hate me for saying this, but really I am just being real. Your photographer friends, your cake-making friends, your flower decorating friends, they are all thinking this and just not saying it. So offer. Most likely they'll say no and you'll be off the hook. But they appreciate you saying it. 
****** While I am on this crazy bandwagon, might I point out that covering transportation costs is not the same as compensation? Mr. L's employer, for instance, offers him a discount on his subway pass, but it would be considered INSANE if they did not also offer him a salary. Getting to the job is not impetus enough to do it.  I might be going over the edge here, but it seems to me it should be the same for ministers.

A World Made of Butter

In our household, we have decided that this summer will be dedicated to the pursuit of healthier bodies. After a long winter in which we built up (slowly but surely) an extra layer of insulation mostly via Saag Paneer and Peshwari Naan from across the street, we have committed to taking charge of our health: nutritionally, cardio-vascularly, muscular-ly.

Jason has worked hard to get us ready for this: getting us really into biking and fresh summer salads and hiking. And so I thought what I would do to contribute to this endeavor was to register for a French Pastry class. I know....I am always so helpful, you don't even have to say it.

Actually, the wheels for this were already in motion, as my friends K and J and I had already been conspiring to take a baking class for sometime. So french pastries it was. What better way to emerge into a healthy, nutritional lifestyle than learning to cram as much butter as humanly possible into some flour, filling it with chocolate and then eating it? None, I say, none.

The class we chose at the local Culinary Arts school was advertised as a "Morning Pastry" class and billed as a way to "learn the techniques" used to make breakfast treats with croissant, puff pastry, and brioche dough.
Thankfully, it was also an unadvertised opportunity to work alongside some totally wacky characters, which delighted me as I knew it was going to be a blog worthy experience from the get-go.

Class began when "Chef" called us to order by taking attendance and then casually informing us that one could not make a quality croissant in less than two days. Since our class was two four hour sessions a week apart, we wondered what on earth we were doing there, but this did not seem to phase him. Chef was French of course, mostly very disorganized and unclear, and fortunately, incredibly talented at making pastries and jokes. For most of the four hours he wandered around showering us with puns about France, throwing flour everywhere while drinking wine from a paper cup that magically continued to be filled out of nowhere and periodically slamming down a rolling pin on the aluminum table for effect. Perfect.

Also present:
-The "know-it-all" couple, sadly placed at the cooking station directly across from me, who clearly gain a sense of self worth from taking courses such as this one and then pretending to know everything and spewing their half-formed knowledge around the room in the form of thinly-veiled criticism of others' work. ("Excuse me, but I think you're dough is a little too dry." or "You're going to need to roll that thinner.") If you imagine that this particular type of input is especially irritating to me, you are correct, but in the name of culinary compatriotism, I withheld the many witty and stinging retorts which I composed in my mind during our many hours of rolling.
-A VERY pregnant woman and her mother....pretty much nothing more to say here than "You are a genius and that's exactly what I would do if I were as pregnant as you."
-A somewhat awkward young man, maybe in high school, there with his mother, who was quite endearing and funny, though not completely adept at the detailed process of pastry making.....ultimately his turnovers ended up looking like some sort of CSI crime scene, with raspberry oozing out of odd places all over the place, but it was fun to get to know him.
-One of the more hilarious women I've met recently who I desperately want to be friends with forever and who continued to make jokes the entire time in step with Chef.
-And my friends and I.

And there gathered, for two weeks on Monday nights, we made pastries. But how do you make pastries, you ask? Like this:
1) Mix a bunch of ingredients (such as flour, salt, sugar, milk, eggs and water) in a stand mixer.*
2) Let that dough rise for one hour.
3) Punch it down. Hard. I said HARD, damn it. Punch it until your knuckles hurt from smashing them accidentally on the edge of the bowl if don't have the "techinique" quite down yet. This is easier if you are an especially passionate* person already.
4) Refrigerate this abused dough overnight or, in this case, for one hour.
5) In the meantime, take several POUNDS of butter (no joke) and bash them together as hard as you can with a rolling pin until they form an 8X8 square slab about a half inch thick.
6) Roll out the dough into a square about twice as big as the butter slab. Fold the dough around the butter and roll it. And roll it. And roll it. And roll it some more until it is a very long rectangle the thickness and consistency of which  is a secret they must only reveal to you in the advanced pastry program. In our case, we rolled until chef said "ENOUGH."
7) Once finished, fold this slab in a very special pattern the purpose of which was not explained in the introductory level class and put a dot in the top with your finger (This is called a "turn").
8) Refrigerate it for another hour and then take it out.
9) And then roll it again and again and again and again until your arms hurt, all the while throwing flour on the table and dough and the floor and yourself until every inch of you is covered with flour including the insides of your shoes for week. When finished, fold it in the special pattern again and put two dots in the top.
10) Repeat steps 8 and 9 four times or until it is either midnight or you can't feel your triceps.
11) Roll the dough out a final time. Cut it into triangles. Fill with delicious things like almond paste, chocolate, cinnamon, nuts, whatever.
12) Bake.
13) Eat. 
14) Die of happiness.
15) Return to life.
16) Bring home three boxes of pastries to husband who will eat them for breakfast and dinner for two weeks because they are SO good it's impossible to stop eating them and feeling amazing.

I'm completely serious about this last part. These were LITERALLY the best pastries I have EVER had. They were like a little puffy piece of heaven covered in satisfaction and glazed with joy. On the spot I vowed that I would never waste my time or calories on a mediocre pastry again in my life (a promise I quickly broke the next time I found myself hungry and at Starbucks, but the sentiment was legitimate.) It is amazing what a few pounds of butter can do, isn't it?

So here's to pastries, chef, and health plans out the window. Vive la France!



*Apparently, in the culinary world, a "recipe" serves a different purpose than it does in the actual world. A progressional "recipe" is just a list of ingredients in insane proportions with absolutely no directions at all. Here is what we were handed when we got to class as a "recipe" for croissants:
5 oz yeast
5 cups water
6 lb flour
3 oz salt
10 oz sugar
14 oz milk
2 eggs
4 lbs butter
1/2 tablet vitamin C
WHAT?!??!
*Read: Angry.

Fun Facts about Puerto Rico

1. Puerto has the only tropical rainforest in the US National Forest system, which is home to 50 species of orchids, the formerly endangered and also quite elusive Puerto Rican Parrot, and no mammals other than bats.
3. Gas is sold there in litres rather than gallons. 
4. U.S. Dollars are called pesos.
5. Traditionally, everyone on the plane applauds upon touch down in Puerto Rico.
6. It is hot and tropical and fairly amazing.
7. And I love Mr. L.
8. And I'm 30.

The Big 3-0

Exactly ten years ago today I was in Barcelona, in an archery bar*, celebrating as I entered my 20s. At that time, when I imagined what I would be doing at 30, I felt filled to the brim with potential. I was sure that in one decade I would be the following:
1) Newly married (I wanted to get married at 28...how exactly I chose this number now eludes me.)
2) Finished with Law School at a prestigious institution.
3) Enjoying my career as a successful lawyer in public service (a career which in my mind somehow also made me well-off...hmmm.)
4) The newest up-and-coming political star likely to be the President of the United States or at the very least Governor of Oregon. (This is not a joke....I really thought this.)
5) Beautiful, fit, tan, and all that jazz.

Now, standing on that threshold (or I guess already having crossed it as it is 6am here), I find I have done very few of those things and that my life has taken a completely different direction. I was not who I thought I would be. And I realize this morning that that is okay. So it is on my list of things to do today to say goodbye of some of those goals and to embrace new ones.

I think my 20s was about "emergence," as I emerged in my adulthood, into my marriage, into my career. I realize that I could spend today asking if I had "emerged' enough...if I had accomplished enough or become enough or been enough, asking myself if I had hit the mark of what I wanted my life to be. But that's not what I'm going to do. Because now I'm 30. And 30-year-old me is focused on cultivating balance rather than calculating achievement....balance spiritually, professionally, and emotionally as well as balance in my expectations. I hope to reach 40 again aware that, sometimes, not fulfilling your expectations can be the best possible thing.

And so I'm off! (No, I actually really am. Our flight leaves in a few hours for the surprise tropical birthday vacation planned by my amazing husband who I married too early. At least this might help me work on part 5c!)

Here's to you 30!

*Yes....this is absolutely a bar where you shoot arrows in the bar while drinking (at the time) Rum and Cokes. Best idea ever.