Jetsam

M is ripping paper and throwing stuff because her brother turned off Sesame Street just as she was getting to the good part (Grover, doing a documentary on Alaska. Did you know the word they use for winter is "uquiq?")

(interruption--get kicked by M, remind J to be "gentle" with her as he's smacking the crap out of her for fun, and get both of them their third and fourth breakfasts. And remind M that if she does not listen to me or her dad today, she will not be going to gymnastics this afternoon.)

I've been up since five a.m. with a short break to sleep, and now the husband is getting his much-needed sleep since he had what we refer to as "the water torture" this morning, where you fall back asleep but then a kid is in your face just as you drift off saying something like, "daddy, can you fix my shoe so I can be a princess."

It is 8:47 a.m.

I have had half a

(interruption to put the dog in her kennel after she emits a small yelp while J lays on her head)

dozen blogs in my head over the past month, but they've remained in my head. Can't imagine

(interruption to remind M to NOT do the big jump off the trunk on to her brother's foot)

why, at all. Mostly I am grateful for my new spiritual director, who I of course have been remiss about getting together with, who gave me this little bit of wisdom in her last email. I had emailed her that in this whole process of figuring out what I want to do and be in the next little bit and of course "where is God in all this mess"

(interruption to save J from certain death at the mercy of a window cord--yes, I KNOW it says strangulation risk about fifty times on the stupid things)

I feel like I am a person who likes a lot of irons in the fire, so to speak. I like the idea of being a pastor a bit, a mom a bit, a seamstress a bit, a writer a bit, a poet (lately) a bit, a runner a bit. None of it expertly and most of it just for fun. But I like multitasking

(interruption to save everything on the table from J's pulling it off like a magic trick that failed)

and all these different things, and I have felt like that isn't okay for some reason, that it's not okay that I'm not ready to throw myself 80 hours a week again into the church stuff.

(interruption to hold J for a sec, whining that he wants A READ! A READ! also to try to convince him that he wants to read to himself. he doesn't)

and maybe I'll never be ready for that kind of ministry.

My kind and wise spiritual director said, you know, I've been studying a little thing called feminist theory of ministry, and it says that the male model of life and ministry, which is one track of anything, has been held up and valued until, oh, now. But the ministry valued by women is one necessarily of multi-tasking. My very involved, amazing husband can

(interruption to make sure all was well after a marker-stealing incident)

work upstairs with all kinds of screaming going on down here, and while that is necessary, it is

(interruption to tell M to be gentle with J in her hug, and to tell J not to terrorize the dog)

not something I have ever been able to do very well. So I am sort of embarassed but mostly glad that lovely SD pointed this out to me, that it is okay and in fact pretty wonderful that this is the model I see myself in most clearly for ministry...it's just not male.

I think I'm getting interrupted for good this time...but at least I've managed to blog for 20 minutes with only the teensiest of interruptions. J is keeping up a steady chorus of "Me-Ma, Me-Ma" which means he'd like to nurse if I can spare a sec. There's an ant on the counter. I've got a sermon to write. It is what it is.