Sunday Clothes

Today is "Day 3" of my 30 pieces/6 months journey.

It is Sunday, and because of that, my clothes chose themselves: dress clergy shirt (with collar), black capris, lightweight black jacket, sandals. Though I have been a pastor for well over two decades now, I haven't really thought about wearing "Sunday clothes" for a long time, maybe even since my childhood. But that's what I did today: I wore my Sunday clothes for a warm season. I have indeed worn "Sunday clothes" for years, but I haven't thought about it in those terms.

When I was a child, growing up in rural Minnesota, Sunday clothes really were a "thing." We dressed up to go to church, even though I didn't like dresses at the time. We wore on Sunday what would otherwise be worn only on very special occasions. It was a marker in our lives that Sunday was different than other days, like using the good china for Sunday dinner - a meal that in rural Minnesota was, and still is, at noon.

My thoughts about "Sunday clothes" have put me in a reflective mood, thinking about that  place and the people who so significantly formed and shaped me. My early years of faith were nurtured in a rural country church, a white building on a hill, with a handful of faithful families. If I close my eyes, I can still vividly see it. I can smell its particular scent. I can hear its bell toll. I can see the families and where they all regularly sat. I can feel the smooth wood of the pews on my back. And it is good.

So many of the older and oldest generations are gone now, many of them having worn "Sunday clothes" every Sunday of their lives. I imagine now what I never thought of then: it was probably not an easy life for many, seeking to make a living in the era of the small family farm. But they worked hard, they most likely kept their struggles to themselves - I was too young to know of grown up struggles at the time - and on Sundays, they gathered together in their "Sunday clothes." And that too was good.

From that place and those people of "Sunday clothes" I learned I great deal, not the least of which is a spirit of perseverance. You keep going after the crop is hailed out. You believe in next year after a season of unfavorable prices. You know that spring will come after months of mountains of snow. Each day is another day forward, another day onward on this journey that takes us wherever it will.

Which brings me to yesterday's clothes -- long-sleeved t-shirt that says "onward, by all means," black shorts and sandals - a good thing to have worn on day 2. A good thing to remember at the start of another week - "onward, by all means." Onward, indeed.

Day 1

Khaki colored denim shorts
Black cotton clergy shirt
Jean jacket
Sandals

That's what I decided to wear on day one of "30 pieces of clothing for six months."

I found myself oddly excited as I woke up this morning. I've been thinking of this for several weeks now, and today I get to start this journey. Because it's a beautiful, sunny day in Northwest Indiana, I actually had more choices than I thought I might on this day. It was cool enough to wear a jacket this morning. That gave me choices I wasn't necessarily anticipating.  I was going to work, but it was going to be mostly an office day: no occasions where I had to be "in uniform," so I could wear my clergy shirt without its collar. It looks pretty much like any normal, sleeveless black t-shirt that way. And the sandals - well, I haven't worn socks for months, so they were an obvious choice.

As I got dressed this morning, I found myself all of a sudden thinking of the people of Iraq, especially those who have fled to the mountains with nothing but the clothes on their backs, seeking refuge. Seeking safety. Without planning to, my "getting dressed time" turned into a time of prayer for all of the displaced people of the world, all whose choices have been stripped away.

It seemed like a fitting way to begin.

A First World Reality

Today I am packing down - or giving away - all of the clothes that I will not be wearing for the next six months. There is much more to pack down than I would have imagined. Shorts I forgot I had. T-shirts I haven't worn for at least two years. Capris that I bought about this time a year ago, packed away for winter, and then, well, left packed away. Sweaters that I keep hanging on to year after year, because "next year I might want to wear them."

Before I decided to embark on my "30 Pieces of Clothing for Six Months" adventure, I had no idea how many items of clothing I really owned. I had no idea what really hangs in my closet or is stashed in the back or bottom of a dresser drawer.  It's humbling. Sobering. Definitely a first world reality.

I have also been surprised at how difficult it has been to choose 30 pieces of clothing. Six months will potentially cover all the seasonal changes in Indiana -- very hot weather to extremely cold. August 15 - February 15. Several times I have added and subtracted items. Just yesterday I found a pair of yoga pants that I forgot I had. Though I haven't worn them for six months, I decided "I really want them." But what would I take out?  A first world reality indeed.

I've also been asked some interesting questions as I am preparing for this adventure:

What happens if an item that is in my "30 pieces of clothing" gets torn, stained, or just plain wears out? Will I replace it?  At this point, my answer is "no." We'll see if I can stick to that when that day comes.

What about scarves? Do they count in the 30? I think they would, and though I have several scarves, I've never really worn them, so no scarves in this project.

What about borrowing?  Can I borrow to give variety and add to the 30?   Again, the answer is "no" -- on the "adding to," that is.  I do have one item in my 30 pieces of clothing that is not mine - a long-sleeved black turtle neck that belongs to my housemate. She is letting me borrow it, as long as she can borrow it back!

Why am I doing this? Lot's of reasons, reallly. Most importantly is that it seems like a good time in my life for reflection and a conisderation of what it means to be a part of the "haves" of this world. It's a spiritual exercise, a pilgrimage of sorts. It's an immersion in the difference between what is necessary and what would be nice.

So, here's my list:  30 pieces of clothing for 6 months:

1 pair of black dress pants

1 pair of black jeans

2 pair of blue jeans (one light wash, one dark wash)

1 pair of black shorts

1 pair of black capris

I pair of khaki colored, denim shorts

1 pair of excercise shorts

1 pair of yoga capris

1 black dress clergy shirt

1 black cotton clergy shirt

2 sleevless turtlenecks (one green, one black)

1 long-sleeved black turtleneck

1 white t-shirt

1 white sleeveless "scoop neck" shirt - more dressy than a t-shirt

1 white sweatshirt

1 gray sweater

1 off-white and blue striped sweater

1 hooded Sweatshirt

2 long-sleeved t-hirts

2 logo t-shirts

1 dressy black jacket

1 zip-up black sweater

1 wool, "salt and pepper" jacket

1 casual black jacket

1 jean jacket

1 light-weight black over shirt

That's it! I imagine I will be longing for some color come February, but that's all right. By that time, spring will be just around the corner.

Oh, and here's what I chose for shoes:

1 pair of sandals

1 pair of black pumps

1 pair of tennis shoes

1 pair of boots (practical, not dress)

And for coats/jackets:

1 light-weight jacket

1 ski jacket

Wish me luck.  Pray for me. I will blog regularly to let you know how it's going.

Today, my thoughts are rather simple. I'm grateful that I will have 30 pieces of clothing. Millions are not so lucky. So what do I do with this first world reality?  Time will tell.

A Moral Obligation

I am dismayed. I read the headlines and my heart breaks. The treatment of refugee children at our borders is nothing short of appalling. They are children, for goodness sake. Or maybe I should not be polite and exclaim what is truly on my heart: "they are children, for Christ's sake." Literally - for Christ's sake. Children caught up in systems of violence not of their making. Children who have survived trauma -- of the  journey alone -- that most of us cannot even begin to imagine. Children, vulnerable, fleeing for their lives, seeking asylum.

And what do they find at our border and in communities where they may find temporary shelter? Angry taunts, not open arms. Violent protests, not a compassionate embrace. Signs that read "not in my back yard," and "return to sender."  Really?  We are not talking about nuclear waste here. We are not talking about commodities. We are talking about children. I am dismayed. What is wrong with us?

What ever happened to "give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free?"

I grew up on a farm near small towns in the Midwest. I was taught -- by my parents and by my grandparents, by my church, by my school that this is what America is all about. I was taught that this is what makes America great -- not economies or military might, but that those facing the horrors of other parts of the world would find shelter and a new beginning here. Because America is different. We embrace those whom the rest of the world casts away. Really? What has happened to us as a people? What has become of the soul of our nation?

When I was in junior high -- that's what we called it back then -- the world faced the refugee crisis of the boat people, displaced Vietnamese fleeing for their lives. My small town welcomed a young family -- a mom, dad, and twin baby girls. We befriended them. We gave them a place to land until they could reconnect with family elsewhere in our country. They spoke no English. We spoke no Vietnamese, but it didn't matter. For a time, we dwelt together. They were Christ for us, and I hope and pray that we were Christ for them. In our small town, they found a place of safety, community, love, compassion, and we found friends.We sat together. We ate together. We played with the children.  We breathed the same air and walked the same streets. And it was good.

What has happened between then and now?

I fully understand that the issues which have brought these children to our borders are complex, with no simple solutions. But I also fully understand that our response to these children must not be up for debate. We are called to respond with compassion. We are called to see Christ and be Christ. In the immediate, it really is that simple.

After all, the call of God comes to us in many ways. Sometimes it comes through words. Sometimes it comes through circumstance. Often, it comes when we least expect it and in ways that we do not desire, but God calls still the same.

I fully believe God is calling us know -- as individuals, as communities, as churches -- I would even say as a nation. God is calling us to be for these children what God desires that we be.

And if the language of faith does not work for you, then simple morality beckons you to respond. Children -- vulnerable children are at our doorstep. We are facing a humanitarian crisis, and we have a basic moral obligation to help. It really is that simple.

30 Pieces of Clothing

For several years now, I have primarily thrift shopped for my clothes. It began as an occasional foray into thrifting, but has become a regular practice. Retail shopping for clothing, especially, is a challenge for me. I look at prices. I read labels. I imagine the sweat shops from which so much of our "cheap" American clothing comes, and I just can't do it, at least not very often.

Thriftng and consignment store shopping has made me keenly aware of so much that I previously ignored. It has made me think about the disposable nature of so much of our lives, and how relatively easy it is to alter one's habits, save money, and feel a little better about one's choices.  I certainly don't expect that it is a practice for everyone, but for me, it is a good discipline. I would even say a spiritual practice.

Thrifting, however, has a downside as well. Because items in thrift stores are less expensive, it is easy to buy more. Why settle for one pair of black shorts when I could have three? Oh, I may not wear that top very often, but it's only a few dollars, so what difference does it make? Hmmm. Not really the outcomes I was anticipating.

So, I'm taking on a new challenge -- the 30 pieces of clothing challenge. What would it be like to live, for 6 months, with only 30 pieces of clothing, excluding undergarments?

But I need your help. What should the 30 pieces of clothing be? Remember, I live in a climate of changing seasons, and over a 6 month period, temps could range from -20 degrees to 90 plus.  Also remember, I'm clergry, and in the work that I do, there are some days that I might need two different clergy shirts.

So, 2 clergy shirts and 28 more pieces of clothing. Help me out. What should they be? And you decide: are things like winter coats and fall jackets included in the 30?

I'll let you know how it goes!

Orange is the New Black, by Piper Kerman

Orange is the New Black is a memoir of a period of experience (not a lifespan) and a commentary through that experience on the American criminal justice system. Relying on the assurance that what she relays about her own incarceration is truthful to her memory, Kerman embraces the authority of first person voice to tell a story that is personal, though not singular, a story that challenges the narratives of power and invites the reader to read beyond the words on the page to question the ramifications and implications toward which those words point.  Is there any room for restoration in our system? How close is our system of corrections to revenge?  Is our system about justice or about retribution?

 

Kerman’s writing reflects the uniqueness of her own intersectional identities: she is a white, educated, middle class woman, temporarily incarcerated, with means and resources to not only survive her limited sentence, but to move beyond it once her time is served. While Orange is certainly her story, Kerman’s writing gives voice to countless others who have no voice, and in such a way, through its telling, the personal becomes political.

 

A moving narrative that portrays the interwoven complexity of choices, consequences, circumstance, and identity, Orange is a worthwhile read for any who seek to find a place in their story for their past, and for those who wonder if the telling of one’s story really can make a difference.

Kerman, Piper. Orange is the New Black: My Year in a Women’s Prison, Spiegel & Grau (March 8, 2011).

Following Atticus, by Tom Ryan

Following Atticus invites the reader into a story of self-discovery and personal transformation that grows out of an unlikely relationship between a man and his dog.  So much more than “a dog story,” Following Atticus draws the reader into an exploration of the geography of the soul that probes the connections between the choices we make for ourselves, the context in which we live, and the spirit with which we encounter life. Emotional and evocative, Ryan’s writing chronicles an inward journey through which, immersed in and challenged by the natural world, he meets himself by becoming more than he has been in the past.

 

Somewhat confessional in posture, Following Atticus artfully integrates memories and spatial descriptions so that the reader is not simply a passive observer of Ryan’s journey, but a companion along the way.

 

For anyone facing a crossroads – intentionally or unintentionally – of past and future, Following Atticus highlights the possibilities inherent in change, without romanticizing or glamorizing its challenges. It, therefore, is a thought-provoking read for any facing the climb of literal or metaphorical mountains.

Ryan, Tom. Following Atticus: Forty-eight High Peaks, One Little Dog, and an Extraordinary Friendship, William Morrow Paperbacks (August 7, 2012).

 

Becoming Odyssa, by Jennifer Pharr Davis

"Becoming Odyssa" is a pilgrimage memoir that probes the interwoven relationship between the trail, the hike, memory, the self, becoming, and God. It explores both the physical and spiritual journey of one young woman as she sets out to hike the Appalachian Trail out of a sense of calling to do so, and after the 2,175 mile journey finds that she is more certain of herself than she has ever been. She confronts her fears, wrestles with solitude, identity, and community, and grows into an acute awareness of her own experiences of the presence of God. In the process, she finds her way home – not to a physical place, but to a place of truly knowing herself and feeling at home with who she is.


Written in such a way that the reader joins with Jennifer’s steps, it unfolds not as a travelogue but as an inward journey that both parallels and grows out of the outward journey. The reader travels through a new physical landscape and into a new spiritual topic with each successive chapter.


For the reader who desires to explore the relationship between the physical and spiritual trials and triumphs of a pilgrimage-on-foot, Becoming Odyssa is an excellent read. However, the value of this book is not limited to those who will spend several months on an actual, physical journey: it also is an excellent resource for any who long for a story that will provide a means for reflection upon such topics as love, truth, home, generosity, and perseverance.


Pharr Davis, Jennifer. Becoming Odyssa: Epic Adventures on the Appalachian Trail, Beaufort Books, 2010.

56 Books in 52 Weeks

In 2013, I found myself on a pilgrimage.  It was a pilgrimage traveled primarily with a pillow behind my head, a stuffed teddy bear on my lap, and a little white dog snuggled up by my side. It was a journey to read a book-a-week for one calendar year. 

The previous year, I had read 26 books, but as 2013 began, I was in the middle of an unexpected divorce, changes were on the horizon, and I needed a new way to find my way.  And so I read, and read, and read, and the words and stories carried me both into the depths of myself and into beautiful new imaginations for my soul.

Many of the books I read were memoirs -- stories of challenge and survival, loss and new life, the unexpected and the blessed-ed unexpected.

Ever the over-achiever, I was not content when I finished my quest a month early. With four weeks left in the year, I read four more books in December.  So here they are my "56 Books in 52 Weeks."

Most of them, I would read again.  Many of them, you may enjoy. Because of that, look for reflections on at least some of them in the weeks to come.

2013 was the year of reading for me. Perhaps 2014 will become the year of writing.

---

Becoming Odyssa: Epic Adventures on the Appalachian Trail, by Jennifer Pharr Davis

Blueberry Summers: Growing Up at the Lake, by Curtiss Anderson

Breathwalk: Breathing Your Way to a Revitalized Body, Mind, and Spirit,  by Gurucharan Singh Khalsa

The Children’s Blizzard, by David Laskin

A Dog for All Seasons: A Memoir, by Patti Sherlock

Dog Years: A Memoir, by Mark Doty

Dogs of Bedlam Farm, by Jon Katz

Following Atticus: Forty-Eight High Peaks, One Little Dog, and an Extraordinary Friendship, by Tom Ryan

The Forgetting River: A Modern Tale of Survival, Identity, and the Inquisition, by Doreen Carvajal

The Freedom Writer’s Diary: How a Teacher and 150 Teens Used Writing to Change Themselves and the World Around Them, The Freedom Writer’s Diary: How a Teacher and 150 Teens Used Writing to Change Themselves and the World Around Them, by The Freedom Writers and Erin Gruwell

Fumbling: A Pilgrimage Tale of Love, Grief, and Spiritual Renewal on the Camino De Santiago, by Kerry Egan

Going Nuts!, by David W. Jones

The Good Daughter: A Memoir of My Mother’s Hidden Life, by Jasmin Darznik

The Good, Good Pig, by Sy Montgomery

The Great Northern Express: A Writer’s Journey Home, by Howard Frank Mosher

Half a Life, by Darin Strauss

Healing Walks for Hard Times, by Carolyn Scott Kortge

Heart in the Right Place, by Carolyn Jourdan

Home by Another Way, by Barbara Brown Taylor

I Have Lived a Thousand Years: Growing Up in the Holocaust, by Livia Bitton-Jackson

An Invisible Thread: The True Story of an 11-Year-old panhandler, a busy sales executive and an unlikely meeting with destiny, by Laura Schroff and Alex Tresniowski

Learning to Breathe: One Woman’s Journey of Spirit and Survival, by Alison Wright

The Little Bookstore of Bigstone Gap: a memoir of friendship, community, and the uncommon pleasure of a good book, by Wendy Welch

The Long-Shining Waters, by Danielle Sosin

Mrs. Lincoln’s Dressmaker, by Jennifer Chiaverini

Not Quite What I Was Planning: Six Word Memoirs, edited by Rachel Ferschleiser and Larry Smith

Off Balance, by Dominique Moceanu

Open Secrets, by Alice Munro

Orange is the New Black: My Year in a Women’s Prison, by Piper Kerman

Pastrix: The Cranky, Beautiful Faith of a Sinner and Saint, by Nadia Bolz-Weber

The Pilgrimage: A Contemporary Quest for Ancient Wisdom, by Paulo Coelho

The Practice of Saying No, by Barbara Brown Taylor

Prairie Silence: A Memoir, by Melanie Hoffert

Running with Champions: A Midlife Journey on the Iditarod Trail, by Lisa Frederic

Second Wind: One Woman’s Quest to Run Seven Marathons on Seven Continents, by Cami Ostman

The Secret Life of Objects, by Dawn Raffel

Sheepish: Two Women, Fifty Sheep, and Enough Wool to Save the Planet, by Catherine Friend

Shepherds of Coyote Rocks: Public Lands, Private Herds, and the Natural World, by Cat Urbigkit
 

The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating” A True Story, by Elisabeth Tova Bailey

The Story of Beautiful Girl, by Rachel Simon

Storycatcher: Making Sense of our Lives through the Power and Practice of Story by Christina Baldwin

Summoning the Mountains: Pilgrimage into Forty, by Amy Allen

Tell Me True: Memoir, History, and Writing a Life, edited by Patricia Hampl and Elaine Tyler May

Three Among Wolves: A Couple and their Dog Live a Year with Wolves in the Wild, by Helen Thayer

Two Feet, Four Paws: Walking the Coastline of Britain, by Spud Talbot-Ponsonby

Unicorns of Balinor: Night of the Shifter’s Moon, by Mary Stanton

Unicorns of Balinor: Shadows Over Balinor, by Mary Stanton

The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry, by Rachel Joyce

Walking the Gobi: A 1600 Mile Trek Across a Desert of Hope and Despair, by Helen Thayer

Walking Through Cancer, by Elyn Aviva

Wesley the Owl: The Remarkable Love Story of an Owl and His Girl, by Stacey O’Brien

Why Did Jesus, Moses, the Buddha, and Mohammed Cross the Road?, by Brian D. McLaren

Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail, by Cheryl Strayed

With Violets, by Elizabeth Robards

Without a Map: A Memoir, by Meredith Hall

Y,  by Marjorie Celona