The Countdown Is Underway

 

God had told Abram, “Leave your own country behind you, and your own people, and go to the land I will guide you to." (Genesis 12:1, TLB)

Dear family and friends,

Conversations in a pandemic:

• Bed and dressers. Check.
• Desk? Well, of course I will need a desk.
  Two desks? Hmm.
• Entertainment center? No. Definitely not taking that behemoth that holds VHS tapes and a square TV! We should have given it away years ago.
• The sewing table? How could we leave it? Leslie gave it to us. It makes a great printer table.
• One or two vehicles? Let’s let that decision ride a little while.

And so, the difficult conversations begin. After living in Arizona for 34 years, in this Prescott Valley home for nearly 23, planning a move back to the Midwest is not something we can do in 19 days – the ACTUAL time it took in 1986 to accept a job offer, pack up our apartment and drive across the country to start a new life.  We had been married a year – we hadn’t accumulated much. No kids or pets, for sure. We were kids ourselves in a handed-down station wagon, filled to the brim with boxes for the 1,800-mile journey. A lot of clothes and vinyl records, as I recall.

I’m well into my second semester at the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago, and despite the continuing virtual classes, meetings, and chapel, seminary has a distinct new focus. No longer are we the newcomers who get a dozen emails a day checking on our well-being, whether we know about this or another resource. Now we are students becoming a courageous pastoral cohort to be launched into the world in spring 2024.

It is, as we knew from the start, a process that cannot end in Prescott Valley, AZ.

It is, however, a journey that began here. As much as our synod tried to encourage me to “GO to seminary,” I knew it wasn’t the right decision right away. It works for traditional-age seminarians. Easy for a 20-something to move one’s college belongings into another transitory space for a few more years. It will take a little time to decide what will move with us, what will be sold, given away, recycled, or discarded. A year to prep the house for another family … this little starter home that we never wanted to settle into but it grew on us. (It loved us enough to spontaneously grow two peach trees in our back yard!!) Along with isolation, classes, and preparing, the other stage we will complete is disentangling from “our own people” a challenge called “Leave-Taking.”

Goodbyes are looming, but don’t expect them quite yet.

Clouds gathering on the horizon, bringing scattered storms.

No, not tears, silly, just premature showers from clear skies.

Desert cloudbursts await as leave-taking guides them here.

So, the countdown begins. Apart from classwork, I am continually scouring the media for the announcement of vaccine stage 1C for Mike. In the meantime, we’re starting to figure out what to empty out. In general, well over half of what we own. We’ll be apartment dwellers again for a few years: no three-bedroom house with a storage shed and garage. We will take the bare bones: Warmer clothing, some books, and three semi-bewildered furr-kids. If you are part of our Arizona family, expect the Leave-Taking Event in early May 2022.

We need to be in Chicago to move in before the summer session of CPE begins.
(Clinical Pastoral Education, or CPE: basically 12 weeks of full-time work as a chaplain at a hospital). On those rare days off, Mike and I have committed to a membership at the Museum of Science and Industry -- somewhere both of us loved as a school field trip. Who knew we would move across the country together, then end up living five minutes away!! And that the big blue expanse of water, Lake Michigan, would be just a little further!

Jumping back to those furr-kids, Rachel is still very much with us. She gave us a huge scare in late December, in constant pain despite taking an ibuprofen-like medicine. We think she had a rare but documented reaction: lethargic, uncoordinated and at worst, unable to walk. Desperate, I googled her condition and found this condition occurs in some dogs, especially labs. We dropped the carprofen, endured an interminable wait, and started her on a steroid. What a change! Our nearly 10-year-old girl ran out to play in the snow! Barring other emergencies, we will have another Easter with her, maybe two. She has nodules within her lungs, so she may not see 11, but happy we dodged this disaster. Taz just turned 12 and continues to be a mostly tolerant big kitty brother to Pepa, who is 3 ½.

This seminarian needs to get back to history & theology, pastoral care, public church, and worship! The books won’t read themselves. By the way, Mike is preparing to take a few classes in the upcoming semesters to prepare himself for his part of our journey.

But before we go, what is it that we can hold in prayer for you? I miss the easy days with many of you, when we could sit across a table with coffee and talk about our joys and fears.

As for us, our thanks-giving list is long, our needs few:

• Thanking God for our health and that of family and friends, Rachel’s recovery, the Covid-19 numbers falling, the increasing amount of vaccine distributed.
• Thankful for the technology to attend classes at a distance, to worship and be the Church in a pandemic, for friendships newly planted and friendships continually in bloom.
• Praying for the wisdom to prepare for life’s changes, the patience to avoid unnecessary irritations, for employment opportunities post-pandemic and in Chicago.
  

So, I’ll end on a funny story from my Facebook earlier today. Thirty-five years ago, Mike and I marveled that the wedding gifts we were given included four cookie jars, three sets of juice glasses and one “miniature juice glass set with carafe." Who uses two-ounce juice classes? OK, we were too young and too unsophisticated to realize the latter was a beautiful etched glass cordial decanter and glasses. Not something a lot of 20-somethings pull out every day. 

 

But unlike several of the cookie jars, we kept the drink set. It takes up half a shelf in our kitchen cupboard and gets used rarely.

One of these days, I will look for our wedding book with the gift list and determine which friend or family member is the precognitive soul who knew we would need isolation communion cups to weather the pandemic of 2020-21.

Cheers, y'all!