training collar

 

The best photo of my chin yet!

Another post on the clerical collar.  You can read the other posts I’ve written about collars here and here.

 

On Wednesday night, a few new kids had come with a few regulars.  As they were standing in the food line, one of the girls caught my eye and said, as she pointed to both sides of her, “they’re new!”  So, I came over to introduce myself to the new girls.  

For kids who have never been to a church, saying my name with “Vicar” in front of it is confusing.  Actually, I’d be willing to bet actual money on it being confusing for kids who have been to church.  I didn’t really know what it meant before I got the title either.  (Here’s a little word study I did on vicar.)

Is it important for me to have a title?   Yes and no.  On the yes front, it seems important for me to have this title with the teenagers here.  Their boundaries run a little blurrier and they test me in all sorts of ways, so I’m trying for some consistency.  (Although, I must say, the teenagers often call me “miss.”  Hilarioius to me, but it works fine, too.)  And for the older folks, they can just call me “vicar” without having to remember my first name.  (I am the 18th vicar here, so you can hardly blame them.)

On the no front, it can get in the way at times, which is what inspired this post.  And I think I can have people’s respect without a title.  I know it, actually.

After I asked the names of the girls and said them a couple times, I said, “Well, my name is Laura.  I’m a vicar.  It’s a funny name that means I’m practicing to be a pastor.”  Then I pointed at my collar and said “This is a collar that reminds me I am practicing to be a pastor.”  They looked quizzically at it and I said “Here, you want to see it?”  They all looked at it and touched it and that was that.  (I promise this conversation didn’t sound so….so…. scripted!  Reading it makes it sound like I had a lesson plan.  Not true.)

Truthfully, I don’t know if they used my name the rest of the night with “vicar” in front of it or not.

What do you think?  Those of you who have been or are in the position of having some sort of title, weigh in.

fool me twice…won’t get fooled again

Recently, I’ve had two experiences where I’ve had to contemplate if I’d share my current “job” as vicar with a stranger.  The first time it happened, I decidedly wasn’t in the mood to go into my story, but I wasn’t prepared to lie.  So what was a highly anticipated hair cut, pamper session became part confessional, part educational. I was horrified to hear her ask “Well, what’s the difference between Lutherans and Catholics” and then equally horrified to hear myself answer.  I just wanted a hair cut.

I must say this about my ability to lie.  I’m terrible at it.  I am not being noble or pious or naive.  Even trying to plan ahead to lie is a stretch for me.  A good example of this is when we were planning a surprise birthday party for my friend, Brian, at the end of August.  His wife, Natalie, and I were going to meet to “do yoga” and instead, make a cake and do some other fun planning for his birthday.  (This was also the same party as the Vicarpalooza.  It was awesome.)  Anyway, as I remarked to Natalie how hard it is for me to lie, she said “Well, if Brian asks how yoga was, you just tell him fine.  It’s no big deal.”  She was right.  And Brian never asks about yoga.  I mean, why would he?

Yet today, I found myself in another situation where someone was politely inquiring as to who I was, what I did.  Again, unprepared to say something believeable.  (I’ve been a camp director!  I could just say that!  What happens to my brain!?)  Oh well.  This particular person, upon hearing my truth revealed (I am learning to be a pastor) said “but don’t you doubt your faith sometimes?”

I ended up having the most sincere faith talk with this perfect stranger as I said “of course I doubt.  that’s part of faith.”  We didn’t talk at length, but what she did have to say was thoughtful, faithful, and sincere.  And she talked more than me.

Another fun thing is that I preached on doubt tonight for Wednesday night church night.  That conversation ended up opening a few more possibilties for preaching just a few hours later.

Don’t you just love the Holy Spirit?

P.S– can anyone name who said the (partial) quote that is the title of this post?

pretty in pink

 

Becky in pink

I think it was Sarah Vowell, a great writer, who tried to become a goth.  I think she did goth research or hung out with goth kids or something.  She had to pick a goth name, as Sarah wasn’t going to cut it.  So the most goth, edgy, sinister name she could choose was Becky.  I think, as Becky, she also decided that to be truly goth would be to wear pink instead of the expected black that goths are known to wear. (Michael & Kristine, is this a correct remembrance of this story?  I was with you hearing this, right???)

 

This is similar to the attitude I have adopted in wearing the pink vicar shirt.  When I purchased 2 of these “work shirts” this summer, I decided that the most subversive thing I could do in wearing this mark of my vocation was to go goth, to go pink.  (You should see the looks I get – it’s totally working.)

Plus I visited a healthy newborn in the hospital.  And she was a girl.  I’m hard to pin down, aren’t I?

Just call me Becky.