Ten-Finger Exercises

wish I had a video

We have now seen a lot more pictures of Zach, looking much more contented and cute. I don't have a picture to post-- can't figure how to get them from their Kodak album to here. But here's the first video his dad made of him, the newest star of YouTube.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A_QS_JmczGw

I wish I had a video camera to take a picture of Bill as he watches Zach. He is entirely taken by every little movement, and it's fun to see.

Bill's in the early stages of a full beard which he's growing for his part of the Admiral in H.M.S. Pinafore. The play may not go, due to lack of performers for two crucial roles. Nevertheless, it's not time to cancel and shave yet. I'd be sorry for Bill to have it cancelled, but happy to have the beard gone.

Tomorrow is the last Sunday before our priest, Steven, retires, and is also the parish's annual meeting. We'll have a party for him in the afternoon. I'm of two minds about his leaving: sad because he's been a good priest and has steered the church through a difficult time, losing the inevitable members who are fiercely opposed to the ordination of homosexuals, but gaining a good number of people associated with the university and newcomers to the church.

My other thought about Steve is that he has always seemed to have a prejudice against me, and I don't know why. There was another deacon when he came here, and her husband was instrumental in his being hired. She was very jealous of my connections, having been ordained a long time before her and well thought of in the community. When she was first ordained, she went to the priest and proposed a different role for the deacons in the liturgy, which he went along with. Even though it affected me too, she never mentioned it to me.

She did not like it that I got along with the previous priest, the interim, because she did not. She is a manipulative person, and, I assume, she must have told Steve bad things about me when he first came. Supposedly, he emailed everybody on staff before he arrived here and was very communicative, but I only heard from him once, a long time later. He asked, in that email, how often I would like to preach, and I told him at least once every church season and up to once a month. The interim priest had been encouraging me, and I had felt excited about having an opportunity to learn to preach better.

When Steven arrived in town, he said he never got my response. So I told him what I'd said, and he said we'd get together and make up a preaching roster. He never mentioned it again, and when I did, he'd change the subject. I tried several more times, but he always ignored me, wouldn't tell me what he was thinking or why. A friend told me she'd asked him why I didn't ever preach any more, and his answer was, "It isn't going to happen."

The fact that he never gave me the time of day about the subject bothers me. He didn't even have the decency to say, "I've talked to so-and-so, and I don't think your preaching is up to par," or anything else. He could have said, "Why don't you write a couple of sermons and let me read them and then decide." He could have said, "I've heard from others that you do a passable job, but I want more than that." He could have said all sorts of things, but just to ignore me was very hurtful.

He has also been a very critical person. I have never heard him say I did anything well. Not a single thing. Only criticism. Sure, I make mistakes. So does he. I guess that doesn't matter though. The problem is, I've lost so much self confidence that I'm all but ready to quit. I've lost interest in trying. Kind of like the experiment with the dog who jumps to the other side of the box when he is shocked. After a while, shocked on both sides, he quits jumping.

Now, of course, he's leaving, and maybe the assistant will be willing to give me a chance; but I don't think I'm up to it any more. The interest and enthusiasm I once had is dead. I always knew I had a lot to learn, but I had the tiniest spark of feeling that I could learn to preach and do it well. It was exciting, and scary. Now, I'm afraid to offer again; and afraid if I do get the chance, I'll do it badly and not know. I've lost a lot of confidence in myself over the past few years. It's a shame, and largely my own fault, but that's the way it is.

As I was driving down the street Friday, I thought about a naggy little verse my mother used to sing-song at me, probably when I was feeling just this way. "Nobody loves me, everybody hates me; think I'll go eat worms." I don't know what effect she wanted it to have, but it made me feel stupid for feeling bad. Not a good result.

So, I was driving home feeling stupid, and decided to stop at a friend's house to return a book. I hadn't seen her for months. Everything about her is so perfect. She looks great; her house looks great; she writes and paints and cooks and socializes. The last time I saw her, she invited me for Scrabble. I may have won, but I felt very nervous the whole time. Anyway, I stopped. And had a lovely time sitting in her new room sharing our lives, as we once did when we were neighbors, and also co-workers, in another time and place.

The rest of the weekend has been much better.