Deadites, D-Day, and Departures part 3

When I started this series of posts. It was intended to be just one post.

As I began to share about my All Saints Day (part 1), it quickly became evident that the follow up on Caroll Spinney was going to be its own post (part 2 naturally).  The day I posted part 2, there was another notable departure.

Stan Lee left the mortal coil on November 12, 2018.

Since then, there has already been plenty shared about his contributions to the field of comic books. Personally, my exposure to his impact was felt second hand. My introduction to Stan Lee came not through the books he wrote, rather it came through "Stan's Soapbox".

Stan's Soapbox was a column written by Lee that ran in every book published by Marvel. So no matter which book you picked up that month, you were guaranteed to get a dose of Mr. Lee. The Soapbox was part advertisement, part life advice, and part behind the curtain peek at the inner workings of the Marvel office. But it was so much more than that.

The Soapbox was the front door into the world of Marvel Comics. The Soapbox was the way in. It was where the inside jokes and announcements of upcoming projects were found. It was the place where the reader went from passive observer to an active participant. The amazing thing is that this was all done with plain text. 

There were the more interactive ways to participate in Marvel. There were letter pages and the fan clubs, and of course the famous "No Prize" (just an empty envelope sent to a reader who sent in an explanation for an apparent mistake). And while these things created actual interaction and sometimes meaningful dialogue, I never delved that deeply. (I do remember sending a letter to the editors of Captain America once, but I wasn't picked for publication.)

Despite my lack of formal interaction, I always felt the comics with the Marvel logo were more than just stories. They became more than stories tucked away in plastic bags and cardboard boxes. Through Stan's Soapbox, I came to see myself as a part of something bigger than just me.

Through those Soapboxes, Stan reached through the page and spoke directly to the reader. Addressing the reader directly, allowing us access to the process of creation, and treating the stories as seriously as we did were the tools found up Stan's sleeve that allowed him to turn a simple column into the gateway for a larger world. A larger world not just of tights and capes, but a world where everyone was welcomed.

The greatest trick, and really his greatest gift, was Stan's ability to create a sense of identity in those columns. We were not mere "readers", no in Stan's world we were all "True Believers". Stan didn't simply sign his name at the end of column, rather he signed off with the now oft-repeated, "Excelsior!". 

Stan created a world where all you had to do to belong was to show up.

My introduction to Stan was not through the comics he created, rather it was through his continual support and praise of the works that followed him. For many who have never picked up a comic the same is true. Stan is known to many through his cameo appearances on film and television. In what might be described as the third wave of his career, Stan continued to find ways to support and praise the stories told with the characters that he helped create.

Like Carroll Spinney, Stan lived long enough to see his characters passed onto other creators. He lived long enough to see them recognized by fans born long after the characters were created.

Yet, Stan was much more than the co-creator of much of Marvel Comics. He was more than an ambassador for the MCU. Anyone who has seen Stan in an interview knows that his enthusiasm extended far beyond comics. Stan was an ambassador of kindness, sacrifice, and optimism.

So all that is left to say is simply, Godspeed and of course “Excelsior!”

Jason Lee and Stan Lee (no relation) in Stan's greatest cameo

--Serving God alongside all of you, just from further away
-Jesse Letourneau

Deadties, D-Day and Departures (Part Two) aka Follow that Bird

Last time we spoke of Deadites, D-Day, and duality (more or less). Today, I want to carry on that theme of duality as we look at two departures from the world of Sesame Street. The first is Big Bird. Big Bird reflects unbridled curiosity, unfettered optimism, and unquestioned loyalty. The second departure is Oscar the Grouch. Reveling in the discomfort of others and interested only in being left alone, Oscar may just be the anti-thesis of Big Bird. The man who has performed Big Bird for fifty years is retiring. And at the same time the performer who brought Oscar the Grouch to life these last fifty years is also retiring.

As you may know (or even may have learned if you watched the video above), the performer of Big Bird and of Oscar is one and the same. Caroll Spinney is finally stepping down from his dual role on the Street. Thankfully Matt Vogel will carry on as Big Bird and Eric Jacobson will perform Oscar.

I am truly excited by this news. Not because I wish to see Caroll leave behind these characters, but because the characters he played are being handed down thoughtfully and intentionally. Too often in the world of a Muppet fan the news of recasting is due to the death of a performer or a messy firing. Even in cases where the characters were being shared before the loss of the original performer, death still seems to mark the passing of generations within the world of Muppets. But not this time. This time we can celebrate the work that has been done with the celebrant joining in the festivities.

Serving God along side all of you, 

Just from further away

Jesse Letourneau

Deadites, D-Day, and Departures (Part One) aka A Romans 12:15 Kinda Day

Those of you who read my facebook wall, may have seen the occasional “a Romans 12:15 kinda day” posts. The idea behind those comes from the Bible verse Romans 12:15: “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” This verse has been a part of how I approach life and ministry for a number of years now.

At first, it was simply an admonishment to be present with those who are near. If they are grieving, it is right that we grieve with them. If they are celebrating, it is right that we celebrate with them. Then I saw those ancient words as permission to both rejoice and weep. If someone has sorrow, I can enter their sorrow. If someone else has joy, I can enter their joy and not belittle or betray the sorrow of the other. Both are possible to hold.

This is where the idea of a Romans 12:15 kinda day came from. It is a day where social media, ministry, or life itself brings me moments of great sorrow and of great joy. I am always privileged to enter into those spaces and grateful for the opportunity to reflect on the complexity of our time here. The Romans 12:15 days that get posted are the ones that are easy to define. A day with preschool chapel and a funeral, a day of floods and fires contrasted with weddings and graduations, a day of funeral and a high school play. Funerals tend to remind me of Romans 12:15.

Because funerals are more than just a day of simple grieving. They add to how I understand what it means to rejoice and to weep with those who do the same. In a funeral service there is joy, there is hope. It is not just a day of the past, but one of the future as well. And while certainly each funeral has these pieces in differing percentages, I recently attended a funeral that masterfully carried the balance of these things.

The funeral was for a man I never had the privilege of meeting. His name is Donald Rothwell. He was on the beaches of Normandy. That isn’t the most interesting thing about him, but I needed to mention it to tie it into the title. Don was a man by all accounts who brought joy with him into every space he encountered. He taught, he volunteered, he loved well, he was a tea teetotaler, and the north star to an amazing family. He served in the church where I now serve for nearly twice as long as I have been alive. When we remember a long life, lived well, it is easier to see lost as bitter sweet; as a time of weeping and rejoicing; as a Romans 12:15 kinda day.

That evening I found myself in high school auditorium anticipating a musical based on the Evil Dead films. If you are not familiar with the Evil Dead franchise the short version is this: five high school students go to a remote cabin in the woods where cultist, trees, and zombies (aka the Evil Dead aka Deadites (again see title) attack. Then of course hilarity ensues. At least in the musical version.

That evening was absolutely a celebration of the hard work of the cast and crew as well as celebration of unbridled silliness. It was also a celebration of the macabre. Laughing in the face of death is another way to rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep. In the play no one really dies, they come back as the aforementioned Evil Dead. While the majority of the cast end the play covered in blood, it is stage blood. The audience is in on the joke. We know this all done tongue in cheek. Death has lost both its power and its sting.

That day I attended two services, heard two stories. One was a formal service with the story of Don Rothwell told by those whose lives he impacted. The other was an informal service dressed as a high school play where the story included a singing moose. A mixture of tears and laughter, grief and joy, celebration and remembrance. Certainly in different percentages, but there none the less.

A Romans 12:15 kinda day.

--Serving God alongside all of you, just from further away

--Jesse Letourneau

Me, "Linda", her mom, and a family friend

Roots

Journey, Packing, Unpacking, Quests, Beginnings, Endings, even a Thai String Ceremony or two. I have gone through quite a few metaphors to try and describe the journey I have been on the last nine and a half years. At each stop I learned. At each stop I grew. At each stop there was a time to move on. Some I was ready for, while others took me by surprise.

Last time I wrote about being in between. What I have come to realize is that I am also on the verge of. I am on the verge of staying in one place. I am on the verge of putting down roots.

At my interview with First United Methodist, they asked about my resume. They asked why I hadn't stayed in any one place for very long. It is a fair question. Seven Churches in nine and a half years is great experience, but it makes one wonder if that person has plans to stick around. I described the reason that each stop had come to an end. I let them know that I have always planned to stick around. Yet somehow each place simply didn't have a place to stick. Some places, like seminary, were designed to be liminal. Other places simply weren't the place where I was meant to land. And so they asked if I were to be given the job if I would want to stay.

I want to stay. I want to lay down roots.

The Bible says that since we don't control tomorrow, we are not to declare what tomorrow will hold. But, we are allowed to dream. to desire. We are allowed to want to stay in one place. We are allowed to want our roots to run deep.

Now, don't misunderstand me. I love that my roots run wide. I cherish each person, each memory, each lesson. But my dream, my desire is to stay in one place. To grow roots that run deep.

All of this moving means that I don't own any furniture (who wants to move a couch that many times), and that many of the physical items that hold memories for me have been tucked away in boxes, some for years at a time.

One of these items is a simple metal toy car. This car sat on father's desk. I don't know where he got the car or if it had any significance for him. When he died, it was one of the totems that I took for my own. It has lived on shelves and been tucked away in plastic tubs. It has traveled with me not just these last nine and half years, but has journeyed with me the last twenty-eight years.

Tubs and timing have kept it from being on my desk. That is until now.

Today it sits on my desk.

Placing that small car on my desk at First United Methodist is a small gesture. Yet, that small gesture has, for me, great significance. It states that here is where I wish to stay. It is here I wish for my roots to grow deep.

--Serving Him alongside all of you, just from further away
--Jesse Letourneau

In Between

In between boxes.
In between learning a town and a church.
In between between thoughts.

To end my last Youth Group at Cal Heights, the pastor and the youth laid hands on me, and four high school boys prayed aloud.

In between packing offices, and houses, unpacking storage units, and then packing all of that into a Hyundai Sonata, there was plenty left behind. Some of which I will miss. Some of which needed to stay in the past.

The timing of all this meant I left on my mom's birthday. It was a bitter sweet morning of waffles and good-byes.

Another farewell service, and more hands, and more prayers. And tears and laughter. I was sent from Cal Heights with blessings and resources, both physical and spiritual.
(And Doug don't think I didn't notice the prayers and hymns spoke of journey that morning. Thank you for that service.)

Then the drive began. The drive in between California and Florida.

From palm trees to desert to the home of friends. Late night reminiscence and news of a new pastorate. A morning of eggs, bacon, and theology.

Then onto the orange and blue that I have every only seen in New Mexico, along with a flash rainstorm, a rainbow at the check point, and the beginning of Texas.

From a Holiday Inn to a home. My home. The place that sheltered me for a year. The place where my family lives. Like actual blood relation family. That I like being around. I don't take that lightly.

I got to re-meet my nieces, both of whom give fantastic hugs and pick out the best books.

Breakfast and a coffee with colleagues. Each a reminder of how much I am loved.

More time with family, more hugs, and a breakfast.

Then back on the road.
Texas, Louisiana, Alabama, Florida, and a Holiday Inn.

From there to an office where I picked up keys and unpacked my car.
Still unpacking the boxes, but slowly the apartment is becoming a home.

A home.

I have called so many places a home.
Cities like Auburn.
Like Occidental.
Long Beach.
Chicago.
Houston.
and now Gainesville.

So many churches have been home.
EV Free.
Neighborhood.
Calvary.
Immanuel.
CCP.
CANVAS.
Kindred.
Cal Heights.
and now First UMC.

So many people have been home for me.
Greg and Meredith.
Sean and Becky.
Adam Kline.
Bret.
Adam and Sara.
My mom and dad.
And then just my mom.
Jeff, J.P., other Jeff, and the Breakfast Crew.
J.R., Julie, Joe, and the Underground.
Doug, Kathy, and Owen.
and now.

Now is the in-between. That isn't to say that I haven't been welcomed. That isn't to say I don't have some likely suspects. But people who become family, faces that become home, those take time.

To change your address is simple. It is done online.
To change a church is harder, but I have been very fortunate in that regard.
To change your family. Well, you don't do that. It just kinda happens.

You find yourself posing for pictures on an Easter morning, with people you aren't related to.
You find yourself asking what time we are leaving for the Super Bowl Party, before you even ask for a ride to the Super Bowl Party.
You find yourself at a Seder Meal with your board gaming group.
You find yourself at a coffee, where you assume the questions will revolve around your new responsibilities, and instead you find yourself being asked about your soul.

And honestly, you find your self.

Starting a new gig, in a new place it is easy to look back, to take stock. When you have been to so many places it is easy to think that maybe it is you and not them.

But, as I take stock, I remember each place, each person, each home. I see what I gave. I see what I gained. I am excited to take all of that and bring it to this new home. I am excited to see what I will gain here. I am excited to see what I will give here. I am excited to learn how I will grow.

I am excited to learn in what ways, this new place will become my new home.

My new home

--Serving Him alongside all of you, just from further away,
--Jesse Letourneau

Transitions part 2 aka Apple Tree

The idea for my last blog had been kicking around my mind for a few weeks. Then I received some news that made the topic of transitions germane to my current situation.

In May, I was told that my current position of Coordinator of Children's and Youth Ministries was to be eliminated here at Cal Heights, in order to make room for an Associate Pastorate position to be filled through the placement process of the United Methodist Church. Thus I began a search for a new calling.

Resumes went out, "not an interview" (but really an interview) conversations with pastors were had, Skype interviews were held, and offers to fly out and visit churches were extended.

June rolled around and change continued. I spent a weekend in Gainesville, Florida falling in love with a church and its surrounding community, the Associate Pastorate position was no longer going to be placed at Cal Heights this summer, and the church in Gainesville offered me the position of Director of Children, Youth, and Family Ministries.  That all took place over the course of nine days.

So where does that leave us? The United Methodist District here in California is still looking to place an Associate Pastorate sometime in the future. Which means I have two positions available to me. One that is open ended and one that quite possibly may end in a year's time.

I have accepted the position at First United Methodist of Gainseville. I will end my time at Cal Heights on Sunday, July 15.

There is much to grieve, and there is much to celebrate.

And there is the great task of finishing well.

Central to my philosophy of Children's Ministry, and really central to my life is the idea of paying attention to what is in front of me; paying attention to what I have to accomplish today. Being present to what God has for me. Being present to what God has for others that I am to be a part of.

Luther is quoted as saying that if he knew tomorrow was his last day he would still "plant (his) apple tree today."






Luther's quote speaks of duty and commitment. Worrying not about the future but caring for the needs of today. The quote also speaks of hope. For this allegorical apple tree will grow, it will bloom, and it will nourish others long after Luther is gone. The work of today impacts the growth of tomorrow. Even when we are not there to see it.

I know that my time left at Cal Heights (and for that matter my time already spent here) will plant seeds. Seeds that others will water, and still others will harvest.

--Serving Him alongside all of you, just from further away
--Jesse Letourneau

Transitions

Top Left July 16, 2017; Top Right Jan. 24, 2018
Bottom Right Feb. 27, 2017:; Bottom Left: May 15, 2017

During my second year of seminary in Chicago, I took a (nearly) weekly picture of the view from my front door. At the end of the year I turned these photos into a time lapsed video. It is still one of my favorite projects I have ever done.

Video

I tried to repeat the idea during my last semester of seminary. This time the bridge over a tiny tributary of the Chicago River was the subject.

Video

I don't think it turned out as well as the first one, but it was an exercise that kept me present during that semester of transition. Even as I rewatch the video today, I am reminded of that bridge, the housing it led to and the campus it lead away from. Memories across my four years at North Park flood my mind. That small space in Chicago is filled with laughter and tears, joy, doubt, fear, certainty, rejection, acceptance, and so much more.

In times of change, I believe it is important to look ahead, to plan ahead, to ready oneself for what is next. Like the titular ant of the Aesop Fable, it is good in the summer to plan for the winter.

In times of change, I believe it is important to stay grounded and present. To leave the worry of tomorrow for tomorrow and participate in the joy of today. Like the titular Grasshopper, it is important to run, sing, and dance while the sun still shines.

In January of 2017, I began a brand new adventure in Copperopolis, CA (Yes it is a real city, and no it is not home to "Copper Man"). I also began taking pictures for a new video. Those of you who follow me on Facebook may remember all the pictures I kept posting of that "same" sandwich.

The goal was to make a video where the tree in the background exhibited the changing seasons. I arrived in Copper after the leaves had fallen, and my journey took me away from that tree (and those sandwiches) just as the foliage of new life had begun to appear. I decided not to cut that video together.

In July of 2017, I began a new adventure in Long Beach, CA. Those of you who follow me on Facebook may have noticed I have been posting the "same" picture of the steeple of my new church. Peeking into the frame of those photos is a tree who I hoped would tell the story of the passage of time through the colors adorning its branches.

As I watched the branches of that tree transitioned from green, to pink, to bare, to green again, I thought this video project just might work out. Then the city, for completely legitimate safety reasons, removed that tree. And while my project stopped there. I have continued to take (nearly) weekly pictures of the steeple, because this church and my role in it are important to me.

These reflections of where I have been and where I am, serve as personal reminders that we can borrow from the past, but never repeat it. We can notice the patterns of what has come before, but they serve only as clues, not certainties of what lies ahead.

--Serving Him alongside all of you, just from further away
--Jesse Letourneau

It is all a matter of where you focus

To be honest the last five or six weeks I have been focusing on the darkness. The darkness of evil, sin, sickness, human unkindness. I have been preoccupied with the needs of my family, my friends, my neighborhood, my church. I have been enveloped by the darkness of my own soul.

I have looked at the problems without looking at the solutions. I have seen only the shadows while denying the existence of the light.

Today, when I woke up, the weather matched my heart. Cloudy, cold, and rainy.


As the day went on, the rain broke, and sun arrived for just a few brief moments. Inspired by these fleeting rays, I grabbed my camera and headed out to catch the first hints of spring struggling to be seen despite the gloom. By the time I stepped outside, the sun was once again hidden, but the evidence of spring was still evident, if I would just look for it.

As I searched for color and light, I found that I was soon relying on the macro setting and zoom to frame my shots so that only the water drops and traces of color from the first blooms of the season were in focus, while denying the context of what was just out of frame.

My attention swung from preoccupation with darkness to a preoccupation of light. Extremes are seldom healthy. So I took a step back. I took shots of things "as they were". Then I used the zoom to draw attention to color that might go unnoticed.

These blooms were there yesterday, but I didn't noticed them. Hope was there yesterday, but I didn't stop to notice it.

This exercise in photography was an exercise in paying attention. To notice what is around me. To notice the joy that I often ignore.

A selection of this exercise can be found here.

--Serving Him alongside all of you, Just from farther away
--Jesse Letourneau

Same Song Next Verse

In 2016, I received a call that shook my understanding of who I was called to be.
In 2017, I had regained a sense of my calling and thought I had found the place where it was to be fulfilled.

I was wrong.

When I moved to northern California, in January of last year I believed I was beginning a journey of change for myself and for the church that had hired me. I believed that my vision and strengths had been sought out and understood to be the compliment needed to help that congregation stretch and grow.

I was wrong.

The easiest narrative is to understand those six months as a waste of time or at best a mistake. It would be easy to simply write that time off as a loss and plow ahead.

But then, I would be wrong.

A friend of mine once kindly summarized one of my blogs (the one I wrote after taking the job in Copperopolis) this way: We often have no idea why we are where we are, but we may be finding things we wouldn't find anywhere else.

The phone call that rocked my world took place on Feb 10. In less than a year, I was working in Copper. In less than six months, that was no longer true. And now February 10 of 2018 has come and gone, and I find myself in yet a new context.

I realize I have yet to mentioned on this blog that I am now the full time Coordinator for Children's, Family, and Youth Ministry at Cal Heights United Methodist Church. What I do know is the lessons I learned during those six months, I use on a daily basis now.

There is much to write about this new context, but I want to spend some time on Feb 10 of this year. The picture posted at the top of this blog was taken Feb 10, 2018.

I was in Angelus Oaks, CA on retreat. But I wasn't there on retreat for myself (though I returned home having received gifts I didn't even know I needed). I was there for a youth group retreat hosted by three other local UMC churches from the area. We had forty kids in attendance, four from Cal Heights. In those three short days, I learned about my kids, how they see each other, the world around them, and even a little about how they see God. (I would also note that I learned a little about how they see me, but since they might be reading this, I won't include that bit).

I have found a church where who I was made to be is welcomed. This new context is one of Trust, Support, Encouragement, and Challenge. I feel like myself when I wake up each day.

In 2016, I needed hope and looked to a simple painting of a blue-purple-ish weirdo to hold that hope for me.

In 2017, I was grateful to be in a better place, and that a simple painting of a blue-purple-ish weirdo could remind me of that fact.

In 2018, I am fulfilled to know that I am in an even better place, and that a simple photo of a blue-purple-ish sunset reminds of that fact.


--Serving Him alongside all of you, just from further away
--Jesse Letourneau

The good news I am staying busy. The bad news is I don't have the time to update the blog as often as I would like. Hoping to figure out a schedule that rectifies that.