spirea

two weeks ago, back when the world was new, the act of fetching the bird from school came with the added boost of accolades from his teachers about his “near perfect behavior.” in fact, i owe the bird a lot of credit for my easy transition into campus ministry in january. he surprised me with his instant comfort with school rituals, peers, and even group nap time.

that was before he grabbed a handful of the face of another child who was “using his outside voice inside.” there were no accolades that day, of course. just instructions to cut the bird’s fingernails and to insist upon good behavior at home.

red yucca

we’ve de-clawed our child, who now spends 87.5 percent of his life in time out for clocking his brother on the head with various objects. with every school pick-up, i hope for a report of improved behavior. but the bird is consistent in his resolve to fully embrace the “terrible twos.” it seems that in parenting, there are no immediate results.

purple heart

there are no immediate results in campus ministry either, as it turns out. i am wrapping up my first semester at the university of memphis, and my offerings of engaging programs and free food are not exactly wooing the masses. i was reporting this phenomenon to a member of my campus ministry board last week, and he encouraged me to think of my work as the act of planting seeds.

i burst into immediate laughter as i recalled what a friend had said to me just the day before. she was surveying my front yard, a space that was completely under construction two years ago due to a drainage issue. i, a novice gardener, researched what plants would be happiest in our wet soil and in full sun. i made dozens of trips to nurseries and googled the names of the foliage on the shelves. and then, much to the entertainment of friends, family, and neighbors, i made what several of them described as the beginning gardener’s classic mistake. i planted one of everything. (i really planted about three of everything but this fact didn’t seem to matter.)

yellow helenium daisies

as my friend was surveying my yard, which is now full of all sorts of interesting leaves and textures and colors, she said, “your yard looks great! it’s almost as if you knew what you were doing!”

i guess the same goes for all types of seed planting – parenting, campus ministry, et cetera. there are no immediate results. in the present, we just have to persist with near-knowledge and experimental expertise. then, if the sun shines just right, something beautiful will emerge.

my list of quickly abandoned new year’s resolutions is impressive in length. it seems that i am not genetically wired to do yoga every single day, stop gossiping, or read more than ten or twelve books in one year.

this is why andy and i do not make new year’s resolutions anymore. instead, we each set big-picture intentions for ourselves by naming our years. the years have unfurled somewhat successfully with names such as “the year of balance,” or “the year of creativity,” or “the year of efficiency.” but the intentions i set on new year’s eve of 2009 win all contests of longevity and effectiveness. the year 2010, for me, was the year of rearranging.

prior to making this pronouncement, i had the sobering realization that doing the things i had to do prevented me from doing the things i wanted to do… almost all the time. all in the name of the year of rearranging i stopped preaching on a regular basis, started this blog, dropped a regular weekly work commitment, joined a running group, took on some new household responsibilities, organized several rooms of my home, and starting having people over for dinner. keep in mind that all of this movement was accompanied by my own tiresome process of self-analysis and took place at the pace of a turtle.

as late as october and november, i still felt that more shifting needed to occur. i was asked to speak at two private all-girls’ schools in town, and though i had already given up preaching (for the most part) i was excited and flattered enough to accept these invitations. when i walked into both of those schools, i was completely energized. it had been five years since i worked in college chaplaincy, and i had forgotten how at home i feel in places where people are expanding their minds, grappling with big questions, looking hopefully toward the future, and trying on every new fashion trend and turn of phrase in the process. i returned from both of these speaking engagements with a new and much-needed sense of clarity about my vocation. as andy and were cooking dinner one night in november i waved my hands to the powers that be and said,

“i’m putting it out there in the universe: i want to work with students.”

right before christmas, thanks to god or the universe or a divine twist of fate, i was offered a position as presbyterian campus minister at the university of memphis.

it’s a quarter-time job, and one that has excited me enough to enroll the bird in the parents-day-out program at the monkey’s school. the first order of business in my new job was to attend the montreat college conference  in my favorite north carolina mountains. there, as i talked with other chaplains and campus ministers (many of whom i already knew from my previous work in chaplaincy), i was heartened to learn that my thoughts and experiences about working with college students still seem to be on target and relevant.

yet, as i look forward to the challenges of 2011, i am a bit overwhelmed! i must learn a new environment and make up for a semester’s lapse in programming since my predecessor resigned. the job seems as if it could easily be full-time, yet i can only spend ten hours a week on it.

last saturday night, andy and i had dinner with old friends, and, as is customary with this group during this time of year, we went around the table and revealed the names of our years. still so involved in the process of rearranging, i confessed that my 2011 was going nameless for the time being.

but as the students are preparing for their return to the university and my excitement borders on anxiety, i am beginning to know what 2011 should be called. the goals at hand are huge, and potentially paralyzing. so this year, for me, will be the year of small tasks.

maybe, by doing a lot of small things, i will end up doing something big.