Jim,
Time is a strange thing right now. As we celebrate your birthday, we have been sheltering in place for 7 or 8 weeks and the days kind of blur together. The weeks simultaneously fly by and seem to stretch on for eons. So the attempt to convey what it feels like for you to be 10 years old seems odd. Yet as I write this down, it feels all too appropriate. Because it seems like your first decade with us started moments ago and it also feels like you’ve always been here.
I can still remember sleeping on a hospital couch as we waited for you to be born and holding you for the first time. I can close my eyes and picture the radiant May morning when we brought you home with “Strawberry Swing” playing over the stereo and the world feeling like it was nothing but infinite possibility. And I find it hard to believe that beautiful baby boy has now hit double digits.
Yet you are 10 and we’ve seen the tell-tale signs of growing up in the last few months. You’ve gotten a little bit taller. It’s getting a little bit more difficult to heft you up to hug you like I used to. And then we gave you a quarantine buzzcut and you seemed to immediately age a couple of years in minutes. Part of me wants to pump the brakes on it. You can’t really play tug-of-war with time though I know many a parent has tried.
I have a new office in our home and one of the things I am enjoying is decorating the space. I have placed books, Lego sets, and Funko Pops on the shelves. My wall has photos of family, places that I have traveled, artwork my siblings have given me, diplomas, etc. Across from my desk on the wall, hangs a cross that we got from a church in Reykjavik and a small colorfully-painted tile depicting Assisi. On the floor beneath them is the one item in here that I haven’t yet put up: my certificate of ordination.
I was ordained as a minister ten years ago today. It was a step with which I struggled for awhile. My Baptist roots fostered in me a firm belief in the priesthood of all believers. If you say that you are a follower of Jesus, then you are a minister. So the hierarchy implied by being called “Reverend” made me feel a little uncomfortable. I did not use the title for myself often unless I was writing my Congressperson. Despite these qualms, I did ultimately pursue ordination. I am glad that I did. I am just not totally sure what to make of it now.
I don’t serve as a vocational minister anymore; not in a church, not as a chaplain, not in some sort of parachurch organization. I am an Administrative Assistant in a hospital Spiritual Care department. In fact, I haven’t even attended a church service in maybe a year and a half save an Ash Wednesday service that I snuck off to at the beginning of Lent. I did officiate a wedding in a church over the summer; an experience that I loved and was very meaningful for me. But I don’t really know what to do about that ordination certificate. Or church.