3. Sometimes you just have to take a nap.
Seminary is hard. It;s worth it, but it's hard. Not only are there classes to be in, readings to be done, exegesis' to finish, sermons to write, churches to be visited, but there are deacon meetings to be attended, choir to be rehearsed, spiritual guidance to be attended, work for conferences to be done; and then there is life outside of seminary (should you choose to have one), volunteer jobs to be done, people to see, places to go and so on. The list is never ending. The key:
Take a nap.
Take a nap, once a day. Even if it's only for 20 minutes. Take a few minutes and study the back of your eyelids. If I really need veg out time, go do it in front of a TV. I personally enjoy napping on the couch in our common room in my apartment building in front of some Law & Order. Heck, even the dogs take naps with me.
The point is, to slow down. This is a great time and I should enjoy it and not always be so stressed out. It's a way on consciously taking care of yourself. I could tell you to eat right at the same time, but that's too much for right now. I eat when I'm hungry and I eat what's in my fridge. Other than that, it's dinner from the local Noodles, etc. or from Johnny's Subs. You can never go wrong with those places. And if you're feeling especially hermitish, they both deliver and are pretty cheap for this neighborhood.
If a nap or some good food isn't the option, then there's always Lake Michigan. Personally, I do not walk over there unless the dogs are in need of a really long walk, which thanks to the cold, they aren't often. It's peaceful and relaxing as long as you are alright making your way through the traffic, which again, isn't bad.
Since leaving the safety of home in Atlanta, I've learned more than enough to tide me over for quite some time. I mean that in the best way possible. This is not to say that I will not continue to learn and grow, because that would be just dumb, I hope to learn more. But what I did learn was sometimes a little scary, exciting and more than I would like to admit, bewildering. Here's what I've got on the list:
1. When buying bread and juice for communion, don't take the job lightly.
Upon our small group's worship service for our class, PIF (Pilgrimage in Faithfulness), I was left, at the last minute, to go buy bread and juice for the service. Cynthia Campbell, the President of our school, was to preside over communion with another one of our classmates who is already ordained. Worship was going smoothly for the most part. Running a little late, but still going smoothly. Communion was to be the relaxing part, or so I thought. My job was to be in charge of the service; in other words, I was like the wedding planner for our grand event. The only other job I had besides making sure that everything ran smoothly, was to serve communion. All I had to do was stand holding a chalice with the kosher juice I had fought some small old lady for at the produce store in Hyde Park, and offer it to the people saying, "the blood of Christ, Shed for you." Simple enough.
When I was informed I had to go buy bread for communion, I ran to the local produce store and searched for a soft, large, locally made loaf of some sort of white bread (Laura might insert something here about the bread being white...). I poked and prodded at different loafs to make sure there was no mold and to make sure of the softness. I found a large, round loaf of bread, which was made just hours before, and left the store with the elements for communion as well as a chocolate bar for my nerves at trying to pull this thing off. I returned back to the chapel and began setting up with everyone's help. Everything was going smoothly, until it was time to break the bread.
For those of you who don't know, being Presbyterian means doing things a very specific way. We have rule books and worship books filled with prayers that are acceptable and rules and regulations as to how everything is to be run. When you think about it, it's pretty neurotic but it's what many of us thrive on. So, when one small thing happens to throw something off, there's more than a moment of panic.
As I stated earlier, worship was going fine, until it was time for communion. To be honest, I wasn't paying attention very well until Cynthia began to break the bread, or atleast attempted to break it. What I did not realize was that I had gotten a type of bread that was quite tough to break. So, with her mousy little fingers, Cynthia held the bread above her head for all in the chapel to see as she struggled for what seemed minutes to tear the bread. I watched in horror as she attempted to pull apart, what seemed like a loaf of brown rubber. After fighting, and I am assuming, breaking a sweat, she managed to tear the bread into two pieces and placed them back onto the plate. Crisis avoided. Maybe not.
Once each of us took our place in the front of the chapel for everyone to come and have communion by intinction, we felt a little better. My friend Lora at my side held the bread as I held the juice. Then it began. It didn't register to me that because Cynthia couldn't break the bread maybe others wouldn't be successful either. People struggled and fought for their piece of Christ's body (not literally, we're not Catholic here...), as Lora attempted to hold onto it as best as possible without sending it flying across the room by force of being pulled. People would get a small piece and as soon as it would touch the juice, it was like magic, it was gone... not in people's mouths. It was the fear I had grown up with as a child when it came to communion. The disintegration of the bread in the juice.
What were people to do? Some were good sports about it and just smiled, and tired to pretend they were getting communion; something I saw a a nice gesture considering I was on the verge of a heart attack at the thought of people not getting their eucharist which I was responsible for. Others, however, had a bit harder time. They would pull off a piece and it would disappear into the juice only for them to try again and hold up the line of others waiting. Sometimes, Lora would simply tear off a piece for them and as they dipped the bread into the juice I would slowly lower the juice so they barely got a few drops onto their bread. Not enough to soak the bread, but enough to see Christ's blood (again, not literally) and that they got some of it.
It was all over after a few minutes, and after the benediction I could breathe. I didn't have a heart attack but I thought I was going to at the moment. The world didn't end. Yes, Cynthia Campbell probably did break into a sweat, but what is a good communion without a sweat?
So what did I learn?
Choose your bread wisely.
2. Dress warmly and don't let yourself get dry.
Living in Chicago is great. There is amazing food, wonderful cultures to explore, Lake Michigan, good music, more than one person's share of parks, art, and some of the most stunning architecture that even God might create. All of this said, it's a cold city. It's also a windy city as well as a not-so-humid city.
Being someone who was born and raised in Georgia, and spent my free time growing up on the shores of South Carolina and Savannah, GA, I have grown quite accustomed to hot weather and humidity. I was looking forward to moving somewhere that it would not follow. I did not realize that my skin and the rest of my body had acclimated as well. I thought it was in my head. Wrong.
August and September were nice. Sunny, not very windy and even a little warmish some days. Then October hit. It got cold. Well, it got Georgia cold, so it was cold for me. Then December hit. Then there was snow.
I will leave you with this... my dogs both wear snow shoes. Pigeon's are red and DiDi's are blue. I will leave you to speculate on the rest.
To be continued...
