Morning Routine or Ritual?

Anyone who knows me knows that I am not a morning person. This does not even begin to touch the reality of the situation. I’m a firm believer that the world should not begin to operate before 10:00 a.m. and that I should not be expected to be anywhere until about 1:00 p.m. (The flip side of that is that I also believe that things should really pick up around 9:00 p.m. and that bedtime should be around 2:00 a.m.)

Having two children and a full-time job in a world that hasn’t caught on to my forward way of thinking makes things difficult. Luckily, I’m married to a man who wakes up at the crack of dawn – no really, he literally wakes up at the crack of dawn! – who is willing to lay out clothes for the day, make breakfast, make sure teeth are brushed, shoes are tied, etc.

Me? I sleep until the last possible second, jump out of bed, take a shower, dry hair, apply make-up, get dressed, and run downstairs screaming some form of “We are late! We have to go now!”

I exagerate only slightly. That is why realizing how excited I am to walk downstairs to see my family in the morning was such a shock to me today.

As I stood there looking at myself in the mirror, putting powder on my face, I realized that I was speeding up, irritated that I still had to take time to blow dry my hair, anxious to get downstairs to see my hubby and two babies. Once I understood this feeling that was happening inside me, I realized that I feel it most days. I get ready and, as I do, I wonder what they are up to down there. I open the bedroom door and listen for the sounds of the morning. The first sound I usually hear is my daughter calling out, “Momma!” because apparently she is as excited to see me each morning as I am to see her.

Today I made it all the way to the dining room before I heard her. Miracle of miracles, she was actually still in her bed. (My children’s sleep habits come from my husband’s side of the family!) When I opened her door, she was still lying there on her pillow, hair a mess, puffy and sleepy eyes, and the biggest smile on her face as she said again, “Momma.” Stopping for a moment in the rush of getting out the door, I sat on her bed holding her. She sat and let me rock her back and forth for at least a minute (another miracle!) with her head on my shoulder.

If I’m lucky I get to give my son a kiss on his cheek, but I definitely hear whatever schemes and dreams with which he awoke. If I’m smart and thoughtful, I take time to hug and kiss my husband. His arms around me gives me a sense of calm heading out into my day that nothing else can provide.

How many days have I gone through this routine and not acknowledged the sacred nature of it? Thank you, God, for giving me eyes to see our ritual today.

A Monologue

So, it has been a while again. I decided to share a monologue I wrote for a special celebration of women in ordained ministry and those who support them for the Cumberland Presbyterian Church. It is something I wrote to perform as Louisa Woosley, the first woman ordained in any Presbyterian body. November marks the 120th anniversary of that ordination. Hope you enjoy!

Louisa Woosley Speaks

on the occasion of the 120^th anniversary

of her ordination in

The Cumberland Presbyterian Church

 

I knew I was called to preach when I was 12 years old. So, I joined the church and I kept my mouth shut! I honestly do not know how such a thing got into my head. It had to have been God! I could not have come up with such a notion on my own, not now and not at 12 years old!

I had never heard of a woman preacher and here I was being called by God to be one. So, I did what anyone in her right mind would do. I pretended it wasn’t happening! I decided instead that what I could do to make God happy was to be a good little preacher’s wife. The only problem is that my husband refused to be a preacher too!

I ran. I ran from what I knew God was calling me to. I became a mother, a good mother, and I felt that is where I should be devoting my time and energy. And, I studied. From the fall of 1882 to the summer of 1883, I read the Bible cover to cover. I was convinced that I would find exactly what I needed in order to justify my continual denial of this call to preach. Wouldn’t you know it? Instead, God made it abundantly clear to me in those holy words that women are in fact called by God to preach just the same as men. Still, I ran.

After more years of struggle including bouts with depression, I finally did as I should have done at age 12, I answered that persistent ringing in my ears.

With no role models and plenty of people who would hate me for it, I agreed with God that I would be a preacher. I can still remember the feeling of relief. I felt better immediately. And, almost as immediately, an opportunity arose for me to fill in for the preacher as he was away from the pulpit. I don’t know what the congregation expected that day. I imagine they expected me to deliver a nice little speech about being a good mother, but instead, I preached! I wrote this in my Bible about that moment, that first time preaching:

“My skin was without a cloud, so happy was I in the discharge of duty. I felt the days of darkness were past, and that God’s approval rested upon my labors.”

It was glorious!

The days that followed were not always so glorious. No one where I grew up had ever heard a woman declare her right to be a vessel for the Word of God. Many of them felt I was going against the very God I claimed to follow. They didn’t know my struggles. They didn’t know the years of running. They didn’t know God would no longer allow me to deny my call. They didn’t know.

But I knew. God called me and I answered – eventually. And, eventually, my presbytery answered too.

That is why I am here tonight. November of this year marks 120 years since Nolin Presbytery took that bold step and ordained me. Kentucky Synod was not happy. And, so there were more years of struggle. The incredible thing is that 50 years after that Synod refused to recognize my ordination, that very body elected me as their moderator!

It wasn’t an easy life, but it was good. Some say that I was responsible for saving 100,000 souls across 20 states during the first 25 years of my ministry. I don’t know. All I know is that God worked wonders through me and proved to many that women and men are equal in the eyes of God.

I know that I could have refused to follow. I know that God loves me so much that I have freedom to choose. I know that God would have raised up another woman for this important work had I continued to run from my call to preach. But, I sure am glad that I chose this instead.

That is why you are here tonight. I look at you and I feel that I am a sort of a mother to you all. God is responsible for your calls to ordained ministry, but I like to believe God used me to blaze the trail for you, to give you signs to follow along your way.

Believe me, I know that each of you here tonight is continuing to blaze trails. 120 years since I was ordained and still we have churches that won’t allow women in their pulpits! It is shameful!

My prayer for you is that you will keep marching forward, blaze new trails, do not let opposition get in the way of doing what God called you to do. I would never have believed that I would be moderator of Kentucky Synod!

My daughters, may patience be yours as you continue to follow where God leads you. May righteous indignation be yours when it is needed. May the Word of God flow through your minds, bodies, and spirits so that Logos reaches the whole world.

For all of you, clergy women, and those who support them, it may not be an easy life, but it will be good. When you feel like giving up, remember what I preached once standing in the pulpit as the only woman in the room,

“For right is right, and God is God, and God and right will win. To falter would be cowardice, to doubt would be a sin.”

© 2009 Rev. Tiffany Hall McClung

Any person is hereby authorized to view, copy, print, and distribute the information contained in this document subject to the following conditions: 1. The document may be used for non-commercial purposes only; 2. Any copy of this document or portion thereof must include this copyright notice.

Sources used for this monologue were:

Woosley, Mrs. Louisa M. Shall Woman Preach? or The Question Answered. Memphis, TN: Frontier Press, 1891.

Hudson, Dr. Mary Lin. “‘Shall Woman Preach?’ Louisa Woosley and the Cumberland Presbyterian Church.” American Presbyterians 68:4 (Winter, 1990): 221-230.

Conflict Management

This is a subject heavy on my mind today. Recently, I read about a principal who had instituted a new way to help students release their anger and frustration for himself and for teachers. He would place a photo of the teacher on a punching bag and encourage the students to wail away at it. There was immediate outcry from parents and community activists.

I had several feelings to arise when I read this story. First, I was filled with humor. I found myself laughing at such a ridiculous notion. The thought of pre-adolescents punching their teacher in the face made me giggle. I admit, I have a sick side to me.

Which leads me to the second emotion – I was a bit disgusted that we live in a world where children would even have such anger to let out. Are things so bad at that school that this principal would feel it necessary to resort to such a strange solution? Sick.

Today, though, I find myself thinking something entirely different. What is wrong with this idea? Why would it be either funny or disgusting? It seems to me – right at this moment, anyway – that it may be a very healthy way to deal with emotion.

We are inept at managing conflict. When I say “we,” I mean you! And, I mean me. In particular, I mean the Church, but I believe it to be a general problem in our culture. We either run from the conflict, sidetrack it by including those who should not be included, or blow up inappropriately and create additional conflict.

I’m beginning to believe that parents, community activists, and myself were disgusted by this innovative way for kids to deal with their feelings because we would much prefer everyone just smile and pretend it is all okay. I’m beginning to understand that my own laughter at such an idea is not so much my sick sense of humor as it is a discomfort with the idea of children actually being encouraged in the public arena to express their “negative feelings.”

We can’t manage conflict if we don’t acknowledge its existence. The elephant in the room isn’t going anywhere.

Sacred Space

I just had the most simple of conversations with a church member. It was your run of the mill, “How are you doing?” “I’m doing well, thanks for calling” kind of conversation.

Ninety seconds later, I’m sitting here thinking of this simple phone call as sacred space. This particular phone conversation was really about cancer. I was checking in to see how chemotherapy is going.

I often find myself in awe of this call of mine. I do not believe I’m very good at the pastoral care required. My sister, a chaplain for children dying with cancer, is the best at it! I will never live up to that. I shouldn’t feel the need to.

But, I am allowed to enter into people’s lives in ways that are not afforded to just anyone. It is truly sacred space.

We’ve had a lot of cancer in our church recently and because of that most hideous of diseases, I have grown to better know people who had previously only been a “smile and nod” kind of relationship. Sacred space.

Better writers than I have put to words what this sacred space can mean for both the pastor and the church member. I do not presume to be shedding light on anything new. I only want to acknowledge my undeserved gift of grace that God gives to me in allowing me to know people on a deeper level than I ever would were it not for this strange title, “pastor.” Sacred space.

Writing Regularly

I knew it had been a while since I posted anything on my blog, but I had no idea it had been four months! I guess it was around that time that I was saying to myself, “Just write once a week, regularly, no matter what.” What did I do instead? Just quit altogether. I can’t help but wonder what that is all about. It probably has something to do with the fact that I don’t like anyone telling me that I HAVE to do something at any particular time – even myself!

And, that statement could lead down a whole different path. I could explore why I would have such an adolescent reaction. I could question where such stubbornness originates. Or, I could ignore it and pretend everything is as it should be. That is a whole lot easier.

So, the content of this post is not great. But, I’m writing. I’m writing so that I will write. I feel certain that writing is a part of my calling. I don’t know what it means or where it will take me, but I know God calls me to write. Another question arises from that – why do I fight the things that God wants for me? Does everyone do this? Is it that stubborn nature again? Does it have to do with a lack of trust in God? In me?

Okay, that was more than one question. That is all I have tonight – questions. But at least I’m writing.