I take this entirely too personally

Our minister resigned. He got an offer to be an interim minister for a congregation near his hometown in Michigan. When that assignment is done – likely by year-end –he's going to hang up his robe and retire. He and his wife are very happy that this new opportunity has come their way. He will stay with us until August. By that time, he will have been with us for three years.

I'm pissed.

He must have been looking for a new role, or at least been receptive to one. When he first joined us in 2023, he said this would be "his last stop." I remember this distinctly because I had been unsettled by the tumult when our minister was let go. So now I feel betrayed and abandoned.

Which is silly. Or at least certainly an overreaction. 

Three years is not an insignificant amount of time. He walked into a fractious situation – many in the congregation didn't think our previous minister had been treated fairly, others heartily disliked our interim minister. All of us seemed to feel battered and he calmed us. He's also guided us through the ICE invasion. It felt like a gut punch the first time I saw that sign on the door, demanding agents present warrants before invading our house of worship. But he has helped us see that we are not helpless, and that we can act in faith and solidarity and make a difference.

I should be grateful. In time, I'm sure I will be. But right now, it feels like he's leaving me. 

 

I'm sorry I don't like him

Had a late lunch Tuesday with my former art director. I hadn't seen her in six months, partly because she's still working. She's the person I worked with the closest the longest. I'm touched that she misses me and I'm happy that whenever we see each other we pick up exactly where we left off.

I'm also pleased that she gets along so well with her second husband. I knew her ex – a very handsome, charismatic guy who flirted outrageously and cheated on her extravagantly. Her divorce left her shaken. Now she's married to a man who supports her and treats her very well. I was impressed by how attentive he was during her bout with breast cancer.

So what's the problem? I don't like him.  

It's especially awkward because he seems to like me very much. He even suggested we meet at a geographically undesirable bar because he knows it's a favorite of mine and picked up the bill. I offered to at least leave the tip but he wouldn't hear of it.

Which makes me feel guilty for not liking him back.

Here's the thing: he finishes my sentences for me and always gets it wrong. He tries to make everything a joke, even things that aren't funny. He can be achingly insensitive.

Example: She asked me about my nephew, recalling how close he and I are and how much I love him. I spoke of his recent career struggles, how disillusioned he is with his new job. Hubby's response? "Let me play the world's smallest violin." It was hard for me to keep my face neutral and remain wordless.

I know he's trying to be clever and cute. In fact, I know he's trying. He had a few rehearsed Cub-related questions at the ready. It's not like he strolled into the bar planning to be an ass.

But I don't like him.

So what to do? Since he's retired, there really isn't a time when she and I get together that he can't join us. I've decided I'm going to carve out a few hours every month for a nice, long blab fest over the phone. The way she and I used to talk when we were working from home during covid, and then, after we were both let go. 

She's freelancing, so I haven't been calling her out of respect for her time. But she says she misses it. In fact, it "Call me!" was the last thing she said as she was getting into the car Tuesday. It will be a good way for us to keep in touch.

Without him.

  

Gratitude Challenge: Day 4

I first took this challenge in November 2014 and I think now is a good time to revisit it. Click here for a list of the Gratitude Challenge prompts.

Day 4: Something I do every day My stretches. I do two each morning – one for my back from my orthopedist and one for my feet from my yoga instructor.* I've shown both of these moves to my chiropractor and she approves. Reflecting on this makes me doubly grateful that 1) I have a team helping me improve without depending on meds and 2) I'm able to do it. 

I have watched my oldest friend – my classmate beginning in Kindergarten – put all her faith in pain killers. ("Better living through chemistry!") Her balance is shot, her ankle causes her chronic pain and she can't walk even short distances without her cane. I've asked her what's wrong with the ankle but she has a hard time explaining it to me, leading me to believe her doctor hasn't explained it well to her.

So while I'm certainly not glad I am dealing with Achilles tendonitis and chronic spinal stenosis, I am grateful for my slow, steady improvement. I am grateful that I was able to learn from my oldest friend. During each yoga class, we are encouraged to dedicate our time on the mat to someone. In my heart, I think of her. I wish she could enjoy the benefits of the small, specific movements.

 *I find myself doing the one for my feet when I'm fidgety while working online or watching TV. While the pain from tendonitis is lessening and will hopefully cease, I think this stretch will always be a part of my life.