Mindfulness

For the 384th time, I haven't blogged for a long time. Only this time I'm not going to say I'll try to do better...because I won't! Might as well be honest with myself, and you.

Internship continues to go well and I continue to push myself (in some areas I push myself to NOT push myself quite so hard). Preaching goes... teaching is fun. I enjoy it. The visits are wonderful. Worship is wonderful. Just this past week I met with my internship committee over our mid-year evaluations. I think I survived. "Cryptic" was my favorite comment. Still not sure what that's supposed to mean.

The big reason I sat down to write is Lent. I've taken on some ridiculous Lent "disciplines" mostly in the line of giving something up. Pop one year. Chocolate another year. My cell phone. Shopping. Every one of these things has changed me or made me more aware of something in myself one way or another. This year, however, mindfulness has been on my mind. Not only for myself, but also for Zoe. I'm tired of being pushed around, stepped on, tripped over, fingers grabbed instead of a treat. I can't blame Zoe for the fact that her brain goes 6000000000000000000000 miles an hour and that her body clumsily follows behind. She IS a thoroughbred off the track after all. Who knows what crap she's been through, how much stress she's dealt with, and what fears and anxieties she has. Lots. But it doesn't have to be that way. So.... we're doing this mindfulness thing together, though I'm not sure she knows that yet.

Day 1 of mindfulness
It takes Zoe and me 30 minutes to get from the barn to the last gate before trail ride begins. She spins, pulls, and kicks at me several times between barn and the gate where I will actually get in the saddle. Pretty sure we are both still sore from that day.

Day 2 lesson day
I am more at ease in my mind than I have been for the previous few lessons. Zoe on the other hand... The instructor says, "She's trotting on eggshells." And a bit later, "She looks like she could be explosive."

Day 3 Pooped
After a very long and exhausting day at work that began at 6:15 Friday morning plus mowing the grass (I know, SOOOO weird to mow in February!) and sweeping the driveway and car port, I went out to ride only to find myself in another situation of visiting/counseling/listening to crisis to a person hurting greatly. When I finally arrived at the barn, I gave Zoe her supper and gave her a good grooming and some cuddles focusing on being calm, intentional, and present. Enough for the day.

The goal here is for both Zoe and me to think before we act, speak, step, or fling our bodies wildly in random directions. For Zoe to meet "her" goal, I must first take steps toward mine. Paying attention to my breathing. Being aware of what I am doing, how, and why. Intentionality. As we move from Ash Wednesday and the reminder of our coming deaths with Christ on the cross through this season of Lent, my understanding of what it means to be mindful will change and grow. What it means for me to be mindful... what it means for a thoroughbred to be mindful...

Slow down. Be present. Calm. Losgelassenheit. Pax.

What do I say?

Grief is such a difficult thing. Not only are we afraid of it in ourselves, but we are afraid, perhaps more so, of others' grief.  We look for something to say that will make things better, when in reality, we cannot make things better.  We CAN make things worse, however.  What do we say to someone who has just experienced a major loss in life?  As an intern pastor in the Lutheran church, I hear the whole range of responses, from the healthy ones to the most destructive comments and "answers". 

Why do we need to have answers for everything?  For some things there just are no answers.  We don't know why bad things happen.  We don't know why a young man walked into a Connecticut school yesterday with guns. 

This morning, I came across an article that I think everyone needs to read, listen to, and remember.

Dealing With Grief: Five Things NOT to Say and Five Things to Say In a Trauma Involving Children

These things apply to any situation of pain, suffering, and loss.  The words apply to situations involving children and adults.

Please read the article.  To these 5 thing NOT to say, I will add, "God has a plan." Sure, God has a plan, but this plan is for all people to love one another and to love God.  God's plan does not include pain and suffering.  New things can come out of loss and suffering, new ways of seeing the world or one's life can come out of pain, but these things are not caused by God to teach us something

May God's peace be with all who suffer, all who comfort, and us who remember the saints, young and old, clinging to God's promise of new life in Christ.

Zoe Dung Oatmeal

Ok, so I can't help but posting this. As I'm procrastinating on sermon writing on Saturday evening, I came across...

Elephant dung coffee.

Yup, that's right.  In the news article, it explains how the coffee cherries are fed to elephants and the process of digestion breaks down the proteins that give coffee a bitter taste.  "Think of the elephant as the animal kingdom's equivalent of a slow cooker. It takes between 15-30 hours to digest the beans, which stew together with bananas, sugar cane and other ingredients in the elephant's vegetarian diet to infuse unique earthy and fruity flavors," the article reads.  It goes on, "That fermentation imparts flavors you wouldn't get from other coffees." 

The elephant rescue organization, "Golden Triangle Asian Elephant Foundation, gets a whole 8% of the proceeds, which it puts toward taking care of the elephants.  No elephant harm done.  Would you try it?  I sure would.  That is, if I had the dough to sip a tiny cup of elephant dung coffee at $50 per serving.

Then I had this great idea.  Horses don't always fully chew or digest parts of their feed, especially those that wolf down their grain.  What if I picked out the oats that remain in tact from Zoe's pasture, roll them and sell Zoe Dung Oatmeal?  Shiney Granola?  Of course there would be the flavoring of alfalfa, corn, apples, and carrots from the vegetarian diet of my horses.  Shiney Granola would also have a special, most likely seasonal pear option. If I'm doing the math correctly, I could sell it for about 1/4 of the price of elephant dung coffee.

In case you want to check it out, and the great pictures: Elephant Dung Coffee

Pax.

Who says horses only leave hoofprints on one's heart?!?

The list of things I am thankful for continues to grow:

Dear friends, near and far who know me so well and love me anyway.
Albs with pockets.
Chapstick.
Riding helmets.
Madelaine's extra toes.

As promised, here is an update on Zoe's progress, or backslide perhaps it is better called. Last Sunday afternoon I was content and satisfied. Both services had gone well, I was happy with how my sermon turned out, and Sunday school was a blast. To nap or ride Zoe? With some encouragement from my mom, I drug myself off my pillow to go for a Sunday afternoon ride, and that felt great too... until.... Zoe was a bit hot, but not unusually hot.  Trotting quite nicely around the outside of the ring, we passed another horse (Zoe's friend Bernard).  I was waiting for her to pull something silly and was ready, but one can never be ready for anything.  I remember feeling her come up under me and the next thing I remember was the CRACK my helmet made as it hit the ground. I saw hooves scrambling around me and then she was gone.  The stars were spectacular.  Quite a meteor shower...too bad it was my very own private one and couldn't share it with anyone else!  Being stubborn and stupid as I am, I staggered around until I caught a wild snorting mare floating around with her tail in the air. Got back on for 2 minutes and decided that was a bad idea. Pounding head, churning stomach, crossed eyes... time to go home.  Thanks to my dear friend who drown me in coffee to keep me up all night.  4 days later, most of the aches are gone, but the hoof print bruise and headache are still holding on. 

Time for a new helmet. A week of lunging after a week of recovery.

Pax.



Let the rain begin.

A quote from a recent unposted-post: "Well, the sunny season on the Oregon coast has come to an end. I was so excited to see the sun this morning, but I doddled too long and missed my chance for a sunny ride. The clouds are falling, once again, though liquid form is an improvement over yesterday's hail."

Thanksgiving Day the sun was out.  I enjoyed a lazy morning before heading to church for the Thanksgiving feast.  Last I heard there were 52 turkeys involved in this meal.  This year, the meal rotated to Gloria Dei so the past weeks have been rather hectic in preparation.  Free and open to the community, we served somewhere around 500 meals.  I am thankful for all those who have been and continue to be a friend.  I am also so thankful for the new friends I am finding here on the Oregon Coast who are so supportive. Other things I am thankful for? Too many to list, too many I take for granted. Very recently appreciated is my alb with pockets.  Albs without pockets ought never to be created!

Story.  Early one week, a call came in, someone looking for a pastor to officiate at a burial at sea. Somehow I ended up being that someone. That Friday I joined 3 people I'd never actually met at the Charleston boat basin. As I walked down the ramp to the dock, the thunder began. The captain said, "There are already 12-footers out there." Off we went.  Thunder. Lightening. We didn't make it too far, barely into the bay, before our passengers said, "That's far enough." Hail. We had a little service under the canvas cabin and the hail let up enough for the woman to scatter rose petals and her late husband's ashes into the bay. We could see enormous waves at the mouth of the bay crashing violently against the rocks.  Perhaps a once-in-a-lifetime experience! One of these days, I must watch a storm from the top of those cliffs. When I returned to Clifford, this is what I found:

Some of my current projects include a gift drive for the teens of a local youth shelter.  The beginnings of a youth group.  Looking for an adult class topic.  Writing my 3-month intern evaluation.  Though, I also have many "projects" going on outside the church in my personal life.  I've been playing a bit with watercolors and Sculpy clay.  Zoe is rocking my world, in more ways than one.  First, she is really suppling up nicely, becoming (a bit) more accepting of my leg, and building up some schnazzy muscle over her neck and back.  All this leads to a fit mare with lots of extra energy (though she's not getting much grain!) and new muscles that leap us into the air or spook us across the ring in one move...and I LOVE it! (Zoe update with a different tone coming soon!)

I am also reading a great book, Writing as a Way of Healing:  How Telling Our Stories Transforms Our Lives by Louise DeSalvo.  If I remember correctly, one of my very first blogs was about how I was afraid to start a blog because I didn't think I had anything to write or was capable of doing it in an interesting way.  That hasn't changed much.  I still doubt.  I don't write now that I don't have amazing pictures and tales from adventures abroad to share.  I get bored writing and if I am bored with  my blog....who on earth is going to read it?  Ok, some of you might read it, but don't tell me you don't yawn. But, I want to write.  How do I break into my creativity again?

Pax.

Internship Begins

Madelaine and I have settled into our new 2br house in Coos Bay, OR.  There is way too much going on, but I am loving it.  My supervisor is great, the congregation is great, I'm finding my way around Coos Bay and North Bend.  And, my grey pony, Zoe arrived late on Tuesday night (a couple weeks ago now...).

Not all has been easy and care free, though.  Going back a few months (ok, now over 6), I started dating a young man in Germany.  I knew how difficult it was going to be since I had to return to the US.  Sebastian and I both agreed with Luther, "Auch wenn ich wüsste, dass morgen die Welt zugrunde geht, würde ich heute noch einen Apfelbaum pflanzen."  "If I knew that tomorrow the world would perish, I would still plant an apple tree today."  And so getting on the plane came with many tears.

The week before I returned from Germany, death reared it's ugly head and I lost my Ruffie Hunny.  More tears.  She was 14 and had lived a fabulous Chesapeake life in the country with lots of room to be a dog.  For a bit of reminiscing, see My Ruffie Hunny post from last week.

My Living Room

Then comes the foot deal.  I broke my big toe in 5th grade, yes, sliding on the hardwood floors in my socks.  If you've ever done anything like it, it's great fun...until you can't stop and run into something like the kitchen chair.  Can't really say what all has gone on in my foot since that day.  Perhaps I broke it again...and again...and again.  Perhaps I never let it heal the first time.  In any case, it has bothered me on and off since 5th grade and this spring in Germany it got so bad I could hardly stand it.  It kept me awake at night.  I limped everywhere I went.  But, I still had to run my half marathon.  Turns out, I ran it with a bone chip floating around in the joint at the base of my big toe.  I arrived home to the USA and headed for the doc.  A few X-rays later the doc said, "Yup, it's broken.  And full of arthritis."  That day I had the most painful encounter with a needle I've ever had.  Steroid injection in the toe joint.  How come everyone else gets a local anesthetic for steroid injections and I didn't? OOOOOUUUUUUCCCCCCHHHHHHH!  When the blood drained from my face and I threatened to pass out (or puke) the doc got all squeamish and ran off.  Sent the nurse back in.  She was nice.  Anyway, I spent nearly 8 weeks in a walking boot before I got fed up with it.  I'm happily riding and walking almost limp-free much of the time, though I'm not running yet.  It is so hard to be still!

Zoe's first Ausflug to Horsfall Beach on the Pacific ocean!

Enough complaining.  These few things have been on my mind so much these first weeks on internship that it's hard to remember everything that has happened.  I have already grown so much though.  I find myself fairly comfortable leading worship (as long as there's no pressure to chant or sing).  I discovered that I absolutely love teaching Confirmation.  Preaching is another story.  Well, not so much the act of giving a sermon, but the writing of it terrifies me.  The second week I preached was so tough that this past week my supervisor gave me a Thursday deadline.  At least this way I won't stare at my computer all day Friday and all day Saturday and for another couple hours Sunday morning, wondering what to do.

Now, the goal is to post more regularly again.  Discipline.
Pax.

My Ruffie Hunny

Thursday, October 4 was the Feast Day of St Francis of Assisi.  In celebration of the life of this animal lover, today, Sunday, October 7, I participated in the leadership of my first "Blessing of the Animals" worship service at Mingus Park in Coos Bay.  Nothing like a service of blessing for so many dogs to bring back memories.  I actually wrote this a couple months ago and never got to posting it. Or perhaps I have been avoiding it because it hurts. In any case, here it is.

A huge part of my life changed on Thursday, July 19.

In the spring of 1998, my parents picked me up from school (7th grade) and said we were going to look at a manure spreader for Bop, my grandpa. That seemed reasonable to me so I asked no further questions. As we pulled into the driveway at this manure spreader place, I said, "Puppies!" and a short time later, "Chesapeake puppies!" Still clueless, I started looking around for the manure spreader...until Mom said, "Pick out the one you want." That day, I took home an 8-week old Chesapeake puppy. Dead grass female. My Ruffie Hunny.

I had been asking for a dog of my own and had been planning what kind of dog I wanted and what qualities it would have. Ruffie ended up meeting very few of those, but what I wanted in a dog changed right along with her. No longer did it matter if she would pull the wagon I tied her to or walk across a board I set up from the back of the truck to the picknic table. She was the star of her "puppy class"... ANYTHING for a bite of hotdog. My Ruffie Hunny.

She was my best friend, though she certainly had her quirks. Throw the ball for her and she would look at you and say, "Go get it yourself, dummy." But a square of bubble wrap would entertain her for...2.7 seconds...until she had frantically popped every bubble and shredded it to tiny bits on the floor. Tie a helium balloon to her collar and she would bounce around the yard after it until she finally pinned it and popped it. Chicken fight? She'd break it up, and was also known to pin the chickens down and rip their feathers out before letting them go again. My Ruffie Hunny.

Then there was the summer sausage. "Yard O Beef" from Sam's Club. She. Ate. The. Whole. Thing. Wrapper. And. All. She smelled like summer sausage for 2 weeks and so did everything that came out of her, solid and vapor, from the front and the back. It took me a long time before I could eat summer sausage again. My Ruffie Hunny.

Chessie smiles. She had a great smile. She smiled when she was happy to see you. She smiled when she knew she was in trouble. She smiled (and sneezed) in your face when it was time to wake up and eat in the morning. My Ruffie Hunny.

And her first water experience. She, just months old, went to the cabin for the weekend and I took her out in the canoe. Not having a clue about water, she jumped out and sank right to the bottom. It was only a few feet deep and the water was clear so I could see where she was. After some flailing, she figured it out and paddled herself to the surface. Then she had to paddle her way home since there was no way I was getting her back in the canoe without capsizing altogether. From then on, she was a water dog. She'd spend hours and hours in the lake by herself, finding sticks and rocks and of course, dead fish. My Ruffie Hunny.

Any stuffed animal that made noise drove her crazy. One time my singing Pooh found himself behind the livingroom couch. When someone sat down rather ungracefully, Pooh started singing and Ruffie couldn't stand it. My Ruffie Hunny.

I have so many memories of her I can't even begin to share them all. She was at the airport when I came home from my first trip to Europe. She kept my room and bed occupied while I was away at college. I always got a smile when I returned home. When I'd go back to school, Mom and Dad would call me to tell me she was carrying one of my stuffed animals around crying and moping.  My Ruffie Hunny.

July 19, 2012. My Ruffie Hunny is gone. We had a great 14 years together and she was a real pill right up until the end. Ornery, hard headed, stubborn Chessie that she was.  My Ruffie Hunny.

Pax.

New Address

Yup, I need to start writing again. Sorry. Kinda got bored writing the same thing every week and not wanting to spew too much online.

Just a quick note this time, even though there is a lot to write about.
Upcoming posts will include: changed relationship status, dogs, bone chips and arthritis, and then the first experiences of internship on the west coast. Dad, Madelaine and I will leave early Monday morning (tomorrow!) for Oregon in my little red pickup, Clifford. Clifford says I have way too many books for him to lug all the way across the country.

And, many are asking, so here is my new address beginning in September:

Alyssa Augustson
621 S 10th Street
Coos Bay, OR 97420

Phone number is the same, 612 750 2835. It's so strange to have a phone again...

Pax.

München Half Marathon

It has already been almost three weeks since I ran my third half marathon...in a sea of orange. It was fun, especially as "Be Orange, It's a Way of Life" became a part of me at Wartburg College. Nearly 19,000 runners all wearing the orange race shirt. I was about 9 minutes slower than my PR, and I was okay with that. The thrill and adrenaline of running was amazing. I must say THANK YOU to all of you who go out to support runners during races. Your bands, clapping, cheering, bells and other silly noise makers keep a runner's mind positive and pushing forward. Yes, I know watching a distance race is worse than watching paint dry, but really, you are a huge part of what keeps runners running in a race. Keep it up!

As of tomorrow, Friday, I will have completed two courses of the semester. Three finish up next week. As the days before I fly back to the US become fewer, it has become more and more difficult. I am not ready to leave what I have here in Germany. If only I could figure out how to actually enjoy the rest of the time I have rather than carrying on with my being cranky and feeling crappy. Oh, and it would be nice to find a way to stop breaking into uncontrollable sobbing every time someone looks at me. Seriously.
Pax.

The Countdown Begins

My time in Germany is much too quickly coming to an end. I am ready to see my family and my critters. I look forward to the convenience of having all my "stuff", being able to drive, having stores open when I have a whim for something. Yet, I have found a family here in Neuendettelsau, too and it is going to be very difficult to leave them.

I look forward to the new adventures that will come with my internship assignment in Coos Bay, Oregon. At the same time, I am afraid. Afraid of the unknown. Yes, I realize that doesn't make so much sense after I up and ran off to Germany for a year and now I'm afraid to go somewhere new in my own country... but I am. Maybe I am more afraid of the relationships I will build in this new place, knowing that in just a year I will have to leave those people, just like I will be leaving my German friends.

Wilhelm-Löhe-Kirche in Fürth

Another thing that I am sad about is going back to the American health care system. I will have insurance, which is more than many people. However, here in Germany I have health insurance for a very reasonable premium and I can walk into a doctor's office for 10 Euros per quarter. But, I'm not going to get into all the political crap. There's enough of that everywhere else. Just one more thing about that. The Academic Dean of Wartburg Seminary was here in Neuendettelsau last week. He gave a lecture on the Occupy Movement and Liberation Theology. This was a good reminder that as Christians, we have responsibilities to be politically active, a voice for social justice. We choose where our resources go, and I am proud of the ELCA for being a denomination focused more on social aid around the world than on media attention and planting fear in people as a means of control.

Maus???

Friday, Dr. Nessan, Sebastian, and I wandered around Nürnberg, through a Dürer exhibit at the Germänisches National Museum, to Löhe's birth house (Nessan's connections got us in) and Wilhelm-Löhe-Kirche in Fürth. The best part about the birth house was the petrified mouse in the case with all the other artifacts they found in the birth room. The dude said the mouse needed to be displayed as the "last resident of the room".

Sunday is race day. This will be my third half marathon and I am looking forward to the experience of running in München with such an enormous number of participants. The number of participants (all distances) is capped at 18,000 runners. Of course I will be lost in the crowd. That's ok. I don't mind that.

Pax.