Another Big Change
My most recent trip to Trader Joe’s.
Alrighty. I’ve been continually referring to this big change coming up in my life.
It’s the reason why I took a little break from blogging as I needed to turn inward. It’s why I went to the woods by myself. It’s why time with my kids feels all the more precious these days.
I’m going back to full-time ministry while, of course, continuing to write.
As of January 1, 2022, I’ll be the new senior pastor at Walnut United Methodist Church.
Is this a surprise to you? Maybe not.
Truthfully, it is to me.
When I left for my extended maternity leave at the start of the pandemic last June, I was so burnt out that I was convinced I was going to remain a stay-at-home-mom and freelance writer in perpetuity. I should note that this had nothing to do with the congregation where I was working at the time. They were and are the most charming and wonderful mix of individuals.
I gave away, yes, I actually gave away my expensive lectionary commentaries and pastoral care resource books, thinking I’d never refer back to them again.
Which makes this all the more intriguing—to see how far I’ve come.
Sometimes, when we’re so worn out, we don’t have perspective and aren’t able to see clearly. Right before I left full-time ministry, all I wanted was to go to Trader Joe’s with my two kids plopped on the grocery cart. I envisioned feeding them fruit bars to make them cooperate with me during our grocery trip and then, sheepishly handing over the empty wrappers to the cashier at checkout.
After a little over a year of taking a break from ministry, I started to feel my energy coming back. I wouldn’t have pinpointed it so explicitly back then, but there were signs…oh, there are always signs.
I wanted to rewatch all “The Vicar of Dibley” episodes.
My husband played an album by a secular band, and one of the covers happened to be the American folk hymn “Down to the River to Pray.” I started bawling because I missed singing in church so much.
Memories of various congregation members randomly flashed through my mind, causing pangs in my heart.
I started taking mental notes of cool ministries that churches were doing in their congregations and communities.
This notable shift of energy showed me the importance of sabbaticals and how truly rejuvenating they are.
I only recently realized that up until I left for my extended maternity leave, I had been doing full-time ministry for eight years, without a single break. And during four of those eight years, I was a new mom, which is more than a full-time gig in and of itself.
As Christians, we talk a lot about sabbaticals. We are instructed to keep a sabbath one day a week, and the Bible mandates a full year of rest from all farming every seventh year so that the land and people can recover (Leviticus 25).
As Christians, we talk a lot about these fanciful ideas, but that’s where it stops, at talking about it. We don’t actually implement these ideas. This is, of course, for good reason. How many of us are able to financially sustain a year of not working at all? When I shared openly about my finances at the beginning of my maternity leave, there was quite a bit of pushback, as readers felt like I was a product of much socio-economic privilege that wasn’t being addressed. For some readers, my blog post and life situation felt insular and therefore, unrelatable.
In many ways, their thoughts were spot-on. I did have the luxury of family support, a beautiful and spacious place to run off to during quarantine, and a bit of a savings stashed away for such a time as this.
In other ways, though, it was a still a massive leap of faith. My husband, a freelance editor, struggled to find stable work. The stash of money we set aside for my maternity leave ran out pretty quickly. Still, we were committed to paying my parents rent for the guest cottage. It got financially stressful at times, but unexpected gifts kept coming in like pandemic stimulus checks, monthly child tax credits, odd jobs, etc.
Our financial restrictiveness also made us all the more creative and made me so keenly aware of how little we need to be happy. For instance, I love clothes, style, and buying new items to refresh my closet regularly. But during the entirety of these last 18 months, I only bought one new pair of shoes and one dress, and I didn’t experience a strong sense of deprivation. In fact, it was the opposite—a feeling of gratitude for everything I already possessed.
So not only did I realize how few material items I needed to be happy, I acutely perceived what it was that actually made me happy: good relationships, a balanced life, nature, and time to pursue my interests and gifts.
Speaking of gratitude and happiness…Thanksgiving is tomorrow. If there ever was a day that held the promise of happiness, it’s Thanksgiving; a day set aside for activating the grateful spirit within ourselves—our true source of happiness.
If you have a free moment tomorrow, between basting the turkey and mashing the potatoes, write down every single thing you’re grateful for, big and small. It’ll turn your energy and have a ripple effect on everyone around you.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!