We all need expectorants

This coming Sunday afternoon our church's intern is getting ordained. He toiled through four years of seminary, he spent a year's internship at our church, he jumped through every hoop and cleared every hurdle necessary for this big day in his life: ordination. Answering God's call on his life to be a minister. Being faithful and doing what he needed to do to get to this point on his journey. Ordination.

I've known about this scheduled event as of a few weeks ago when it was announced and was looking forward to it. I was planning on asking my parents to watch the kids for us, since it starts at 2:00 p.m., right in the middle of nap time. I was looking forward to attending this big event in the lives of our new friends; even Don was asked to participate by singing a solo of his own composition. It's going to be beautiful.

But now I don't want to go. I just took a look at the ordination service -- the order of worship -- and it knotted my stomach. Not that it was bad -- it wasn't. It was well thought out, and beautifully appropriate. It's going to be a meaningful afternoon. No, the knot came because it reminded me of Don's ordination, and the two of us just starting out after years of seminary, climbing a huge mountain and finally reaching the summit. I remember Don's ordination day vividly -- the colors, the smells (those Episcopalians pull out all the stops for big events like that), the cathedral, feeling loved and affirmed as we were surrounded by family, friends, and other clergy. It's an incredible feeling, standing on top of the world like that, your dreams unfurled before you like some magic carpet.

Just reading over that ordination service for our friend made my eyes well up with tears. The grief was profound. I know it has nothing to do with me -- this is their day. Just because we were beaten up by "the church" doesn't mean that's what they'll be walking into. And yet my experiences have tinted everything I look at, everything I now experience, everything I sense. I don't think I can go to this service, as much as I truly want to, for their sakes. I want to support them, I want to stand up and affirm their calling, I want to be a part of their dream, I want to be a part of the family of God as we send them off, together. I want to.

But I just don't think I can. Is that selfish? Do I have to step outside of my own grief, my own shredded dreams, and just "do it" for the sake of our friends? That is going to be really hard to do. I know I wouldn't be able to sit through that service with a dry eye, that's for sure. It's a mystery to me how Don will be able to actually get up there and sing, knowing that was him up there just 8 years ago, and now he's installing TV's and other ridiculously expensive toys in ridiculously expensive homes. There's a "Great Commission" for you!

I'm still not sure what to do ... but thankfully it's a week away. I guess that's the last thing I needed to think about today. With it being Columbus Day today, I had Aidan home with me, and Grace is still quick sick -- fever fairly high and now developing some tight, "croupy" symptoms which is making me a little nervous. Time to break out the humidifier, make a quick run to CVS for an expectorant, and pray that she'll lick this thing. If not, I'm calling the doctor tomorrow.

Kids sure have a way of getting you out of your own self, don't they? Kind of like a built-in expectorant. They don't let you linger too long on your own stuff. Maybe that's a good thing.