109/365 Reality

I need to learn how to block emotions from other people. I need to not let it affect me sometimes. Often this is useful. Not at Worship Commission. The feeling in that room is oppressive. It isn't the room. I've been there for other things.

It's her.

Actually, I think it's a combination of her and him. I don't know if it's just because she's so bitter about the position of women in the church and resents the male priesthood, or if--no, I think that's probably it. The things she says, the flippant comments regarding the priesthood and how relatively inexperienced (and young) our pastor is, when he's not there, displays her true feelings quite plainly. I don't know what she thinks of Fr. Miguel personally but she seems to hate what he represents.

I say this because there have been Worship Commission meetings, a few, well, maybe one, where he wasn't present and she was and it was fine. Of course the whole thing centered around bashing our deacon for his choice of exclusive language, to the point of parody, but it was a decent meeting otherwise. Things got decided.

All I can figure is that she resents the idea that the pastor would be present at a Worship meeting. And I can see that in some ways. I mean, I can agree with her in some ways. Not about Miguel in particular, but I could see other pastors (I have a list) that would make any meeting worse. But those pastors probably don't have functioning worship commissions. Or they so deeply do not care that it doesn't matter.

It matters at our church. I want it to matter. I've decided to sort of put my eggs in this basket and give what I can via this ministry as consistently (stability) as possible. I do other things, but this is the one I go to even though it isn't fun. Not just fun. It doesn't have to be fun. What I mean is, I have decided that I'm here at this meeting for the long haul or at least for the near future and I want it to work.

My relationship with Lynn, while mostly on the surface, is complicated. I've eaten pie at her kitchen table. I currently own her loom, to be returned to her in 8 years from now when all her kids are grown and gone and she has room for it again. Sometimes I can talk with her and it's ok.

But other times her truer colors blaze on through and it's like getting smacked in the face.

And I can't even pinpoint a specific instance at this last Worship meeting. I just know that I fled from the table the moment we adjourned. I was afraid she was going to ask me for a ride home and I was going to say yes. Turned out, as I stepped into the parking lot, she had brought her car. I laughed at myself and drove away as fast as was prudent.

I emailed Fr. Miguel back and forth later that night. I would like to think constructively--the bitching ended quickly and became sort of a general lamentation and desire for better.

But it would take a lot of work and probably something beyond my control to make it better.

Trudge, trudge, trudge.