Leave-Taking

And the items and memories I carry with me ...

I write to you today in the midst of a big life transition, as I leave my call as Pastor to a small church in Southwestern Minnesota, and move into a period of focusing full-time on my writing and speaking work, as well as being more present and available for my family. I know that ministry work and pastoring takes many forms, and I do plan to continue that work in all kinds of ways, like filling in for pastoral colleagues, and continuing to support pastors and church leaders with my writing, speaking, and teaching work.

I also consider this newsletter a form of ministry! And I’m so glad you’re here for it.

Today I want to write to you about leave-taking, the process of saying goodbye to a place and people who you have loved dearly, and leaving in a way that graciously prepares them for a future filled with hope.

I imagine that as you look back at your life, you too have had experiences of leave-taking. Maybe it’s when you left home after high school for the first time. Maybe it was the end of a relationship. The end of a job. Moving from one home to another. And even saying goodbye to a loved one before their death.

As you read this from me today, I want to invite you to consider your own experiences of leave-taking. Who and what have you taken with you? How do they continue to shape your life today?

We all know people - and maybe even have our own memories of doing this - who have left badly. They’ve left angrily and resentfully. Or they’ve stayed too long, more concerned about their own power and prestige than the wellbeing of the community. How you leave as a leader and a community member is every bit as important as how you enter. For church leaders and pastors in particular, leaving badly can do intense trauma to a congregation. In my first church in Chicago, after my predecessor was removed for misconduct, he simply started a new church in a hotel a half-mile up the road. Parishioners were torn on where to attend, and some went both places. This obviously made things difficult on me as the new pastor attempting to build relationships.

When you leave - be it a job, relationship, home, etc., there are always loose ends. Maybe regrets, things you wish you’d done different. Or hurts, from times you felt wronged and never said anything. Still, how you leave can help heal those old wounds. And the best part is, when you leave a place - even as you maintain needed boundaries, such as pastors making space for new leadership and refraining from extensive contact with former congregations, at least for a while - you can still take with you the love and memories you left behind.

Have you ever packed up an office? Cleaned out a desk or a locker or a classroom, or an apartment or rented home? I did that last week at my pastor’s office in Brownton, Minn. The experience can be a sad one, like you’re packing away a piece of your life. But what made things a bit easier for me, as I packed up last week, was that as I boxed up items, I saw memories that I had brought with me to Brownton and made my ministry there possible. I saw cards and letters from churches past. I even opened up the Bible I received in third grade. I realized that while people and places had been left behind, died, or changed - the love and grace I received kept going with me, helping me move into the future with hope, joy, peace and love.

I know the same will be true as I leave this place: that I will carry with me the love I received and the people I met, and the Grace, that is the namesake of the church I served.

Below, I want to share a few photos from my pastor’s office - and how they’ve shown me the love that stretches across miles and years. I invite you to do the same in your office or home: to record what you’ve carried with you and what it means as you enter and leave the places of your life.

These items are in no particular order; just snapped on my phone as I packed up last week.

This framed art was presented to me at my ordination service in August 2013. I am pretty sure that my internship supervisor, Dr. Mark Wickstrom, came up with the text and sports theme. And over the years, this advice has proved prescient. But it was a friend of mine, our church’s then-graphic designer and artist Jen Allen, who designed the poster and actually made it. Jen is one of those people you often find behind the scenes at churches, an immensely talented artist who makes the rest of the staff look good. She used to design Power Points for our sermon slides, and she was probably my first friend in Las Vegas. Thanks Dr. Mark and Jen!

Almost 10 years after graduating, I finally paid off my Masters of Divinity loans in 2022. Thank God! And I’m grateful for my time at Luther.

My son, Jacob, got to attend preschool at the church I worked at in California from ages 2-4. This photo was taken there. I got to watch him play on the playground from the windows where we held staff meetings. What a lucky mom was I!

I also love that this photo includes some important books. I often cite and revisit On the Incarnation, by Athanasius, which reclaims the power of Jesus’ birth and choice of God to be born. And the authors of But Is it All True, Alan Padgett and Patrick Keifert, were two of my favorite professors at Luther Seminary. I have always brought with me a focus on Truth in my ministry, writing, and teaching.

Have you ever noticed that Post-Its can sometimes bear our most important messages? You’ll see a few more in this series. I saved this one because it was so Jeff. Jeff was the Council President when I first came to my church in Southern California. An engineer by trade, he was immensely creative, curious, and kind. And my son, Jacob, loved Jeff so much he became “Uncle Jeff” to our family. What a gift.

This little relic of the past is a Little Red Pastors Planner that Thrivent used to send to ELCA pastors. I think 2016 might have been the final year. I love technology, but I’m still a paper planner girl. I still haven’t found one that rivals this old one, though.

In California, I got to work with a videographer to create a series of small group teaching videos entitled Fit to be a Disciple. I wrote and created all the content, and then I enlisted people from church to be a part of the videos. This art was a gift from Brittni, the videographer I worked with. She said she noticed how much I worked to empower people in their faith, rather than lording my knowledge over them. I love that she noticed that in me, as it is something I try to do.

This notebook is just so early 2000s, isn’t it? It’s the one I took with me to the Holy Land, and in it I took notes from Bethlehem to Nazareth to Jerusalem to Jericho.

One of my favorite parts about pastoring is teaching baptism classes, typically to parents who are preparing for infant baptism, but also to adults and/or children who are going to be baptized. The people have changed over the years, from Vegas to Chicago to California to Minnesota, but the delight of receiving God’s gift of love in the baptism water never changes. I also included this photo of my church in Brownton, MN. It has an uncanny resemblance to the church building where I grew up, with blue siding and white trim.

These premarital counseling booklet reminds me of all the couples I’ve gotten to marry over the past almost-10 years. Taking this time before they get married to really talk to one another and about the future is so important, and I’ve been blessed to help steward the conversation and ground it in prayer.

In 2006, an article I wrote for my University of Missouri journalism capstone class, Advanced Writing, was published in Sports Illustrated, admittedly after lots of editing. At the time, I was just 21 years old and I don’t think fully grasped how amazing that was. My article is the one on the bottom with the Mizzou football player wearing #12. It’s here if you want to read it.

At my church in Chicago, I worked with a woman named Gemma who was British. She definitely challenged me as a new pastor, and sometimes we butted heads, but ultimately she was an incredible friend and partner in ministry. This is the last edition of the newsletter we worked on together. I loved her “British-isms,” seen here as “take away with you.” I’ll always remember dinners at her family’s apartment, and crackers on Christmas.

Don’t worry, members of Grace, I didn’t steal the screwdriver, rug and globe! But I wanted to remember these images and take them with me in my mind. The screwdriver I’m holding reminds me of how I had to learn to lock the doors by inserting it “just right,” and my first Sunday one of the congregational elders had to help me out.

I always loved seeing this rug as I walked in the church front door. It was taking a deep breath. Grace and Peace. That’s what the church is meant to share.

And finally, I love that we had a globe in the narthex. I learned a lot over the past three years about the ways that rural America is connected to places all over the world. Sometimes people in cities don’t see how intricately we are all connected, and how much we need one another. The globe reminded me that while I was an hour from a major city, and thousands of miles from an ocean, the ministry we were doing could potentially have global impact - and what happened in the world mattered to our little church, too.

A small town retired Catholic priest occasionally wrote to me at Grace, after initially hearing me on NPR. He always sent prayers and words of encouragement, reminding me of the ways individuals can most past the division of our institutions.

This is the Bible I received in third grade. Funny story. I left it for years in a cabinet in a Sunday school room. Later, I happened to open up a Bible at a senior high event. Sure enough, there was my name. It was mine! And in so many ways, throughout my life, I once was lost and now I’m found.

Now this Bible is tattered and earmarked and full of bookmarks marking who knows what. But it carried me through high school and college, and I eventually read it all the way through two times.

I keep most of the hand-written cards I receive. They’re so worth writing and sending. Many are from family members of funerals I did, like the one on the left, and I remember walking through those sacred days together. The one in the middle contained a joke about my ability to preach and my male counterparts. Support from women in churches I’ve served has been so valuable for me. And finally, a simple message that just says glad you are here. That means so much, doesn’t it. We all want to know that someone is glad we’re here. It’s a wonderful way to mitigate the depression and sadness that affects so many of us today.

A few more cards here, and a picture drawn by my then-6-year-old son. A reminder of the multiple calls I’ve balanced as a pastor and a mom.

When I first started in Brownton, MN, the Hutchinson (MN) and Glencoe (MN) newspapers wrote articles about me. This was a fun and new experience. I am a huge supporter of local news, and it was also a bonus that one of the reporters was a church member.

This was a gift from a past congregation. When you’re a woman serving as a Pastor, you encounter a lot of people who don’t think women should be church leaders at all. Sometimes they send you angry emails or leave phone messages. So receiving items that affirm your identity as Pastor is really meaningful.

These photos are about surprises. I was often surprised over these past three years. These cards both come from organizations that officially do not support women’s ordination, and are deeply conservative. I was afraid when opening them that they might say as much in the letters. But instead, both notes were merely notes of support, one reflecting a donation and gift from a church member. Grace from God is always surprising.

This photo is of a music CD by Melissa and Matthew Stock, who are musicians, church leaders, and missionaries in Cambodia. They came to do music and speak at our church in California, and since then Melissa and I have stayed in touch over the years. Just this past week, she offered me a beautiful prayer for my leave-taking.

Melissa and Matthew have faced their share of health and travel challenges over the past year. But through it, I’ve been amazed by their hopefulness and resilience to follow God’s call to their lives. Learn more about Matthew and Melissa’s ministry work at https://www.stockreplugged.org.

These are some of my most treasured pastor’s office possessions. One is a framed poem by Hafiz given to me by a parishioner in Chicago named Mike. Mike, a printer, was a crusty Chicago guy on the outside and a romantic, creative, gentle thinker on the inside. He didn’t have the easiest life growing up, but he’d made a life for him, his wife, Mary, and their children, including a relative they’d raised as well. Mike died shortly after I left Chicago, and I remember him every time I read this poem, and I think of him and Mary in the front pew of church, every Sunday.

Also in this photo is a piece of artwork from Ethiopia, a gift from a seminary professor for my ordination. While at Luther, I was lucky to get to know a lot of the students who were from Ethiopia, and we’ve stayed in touch a bit over the years. I loved hearing their stories and remembering - again and again - that Lutheranism is not bound by ethnicity or skin color or liturgy but instead we are united by the Gospel.

The third item is an angel, given to me by a past church member. And reminds me of those I’ve loved and lost.

Not an exhaustive list, but these are some of the most important books that have shaped me as a pastor, theologian, and writer. Whenever I meet someone, I always desire to see their bookshelf. Tells you a lot!

Here are a few items I kept from my first Sunday back to church after maternity leave in California. The whole church truly celebrated Josh’s birth with us, and my fellow staff members, especially Shannon, made it really special.

And also on the right above: more cards and books. Always, including Kierkegaard, to which I return often, and a Greek New Testament and Synopsis.

These two items remind me of Dave, a church member in Brownton and longtime baseball and basketball coach with a competitive yet gentle and kind spirit. Even though sports take many families (including my own) away from worship on Sunday morning, I’ve also found a great deal of connection and spirituality in sports, and they’ve always been a good way for me to connect with people.

This 3-ring binder has long become broken and non-functional, but I keep it anyway because of that little label, made for me in Las Vegas by our music minister, Mike Watkins. I preached my first-ever sermon in Vegas on Sunday night with the Honky Tonk Angels Country Western Gospel service, and Mike, and our guitarist, Julian, were watching. I had a really tough beginning of internship and was nervous that maybe I wasn’t cut out to be a pastor. But then Mike, of whom I thought the world, complimented my sermon. He really got what I was trying to say, which means everything to preachers and writers alike. He made me this label, which says “preacher” and I keep it always to remind myself Nolite Te Bastardes Carborundorum.

This is an ornament, one of many, made for me by Maxine, a member of my Chicago congregation. She was in her 90s and still drove and made art. Parishioners in their 90s have always been extra special to me. I love hearing their memories and soaking up their wisdom of life.

My second pregnancy was really tough, and after a late birth and second emergency C-section, my body felt like it had taken a literal beating. I’d always played sports, and it was a long road to feel like I could move like I used to. But I ran a 5K anyway in 2016, and I invited others in the church to join. Out of a church of thousands, just one person joined. And I’ll never forget sweet Carolyn: jumping up and down and cheering with me as we ran and raised money to fight melanoma, which took my Aunt Mary’s life at a young age.

I’ve written before about how some are slow to embrace women serving as pastors, and how much that stings. But here I am in small-town Brownton, invited to pray and address the group at the Memorial Day gathering with the town’s many veterans. It was an honor.

We’ll end, fittingly, with a Post-It and a painting. Everywhere I’ve served, I write two Post-Its to remember my mission: Comfort the Afflicted and Afflict the Comfortable. It’s a dual mission that I’ve followed as a journalist and a Pastor, and it reminds me of the challenge and responsibility of this calling.

Next to the Post-It is a beautiful gift I received just last week from one of my middle-school confirmation students. Her artwork reminds me of the beauty, love, and grace of this calling, and of the special calling I’ve always felt to minister and teach kids.

Thanks for reading. I hope this post inspires you to think about your own leave-taking, and what and who you’ve taken with you. Pray for me as I transition, and pray for my former church.

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