FEB 10 AGAIN

I haven't been feeling well lately. There are some immediate reasons for that. But those wounds are beginning to heal.

But there are also some historical reasons. Or at least reasons from my personal history.

Here is a little context

The Song Goes On

Same Song Next Verse

Feb 10

Feb 10 Showed up on my Facebook Feed again, and I realized why I had not been feeling well. Even though I wasn't aware of the date, my body was remembering the loss and pushing me to grieve.

Last time I wrote about Feb 10, I wrote that I had found "Home".

It was a year later that I found out I would be leaving that place.

That news came after a weekend full of ministry that spoke to my soul in ways that ministry rarely does, and in ways that only ministry can.

One of my best memories of Florida, followed by one of my least favorite memories of my ministry from Florida.

The simple story would be to say that I was meant to be here all along. But that simply isn't true. I wouldn't be able to do the work I am doing now if not for my time in Florida. For that matter, I wouldn't be able to do it as well as I am without the phone calls with JD Rose while at the church in Southern California. Or without the lessons learned in the place before that. And really when you think about it, my time in seminary prepared me....

My story is not a straight path. It never has been. 

While this week holds the memories of finding two things that I was so certain of not being what I thought they would be. It also holds plenty of joy. Some of them are mentioned in the blogs above. Some have happened in the three years since I wrote that blog.

This is my fourth church since the "first" Feb 10, and my fifth home.

Each place feels like I was there for a life time. Some were comfortable, some were much less so. Some I am proud at what I accomplished. Some I have taken lessons from those places and worked to become a better person and a better minister. Some held a little of column A and a little of column B.

The start of February has held for me

Starting a job search

Receiving a Scout Patch for a Pinewood Derby (all I did was unlock the doors)

A winter retreat with some of the best youth around

A trip to Universal with more of the same

Delivering meds to a snow bound friend

Taking 5th and 6th graders on a hike at night in the rain (way more fun than it seems)

One of my favorite nights serving at Trinity UMC

Meeting Popeye

and continuing my song. 

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

--Jesse Letourneau

A little bit of Gonzo in the new office just for good measure

Leaving Well

Today is the three year anniversary of my first day on staff at California Heights United Methodist Church.

I held that position for 364 days. That year (rounding up) was full of lessons, heartbreaks, and joys like I had never truly known before. Yet it is just my last couple of days there, that I want to mention here.

Before I left, a friend who knew about some of the heartbreak of that year, encouraged me to leave some small item on my desk at the church. He encouraged me to "imagine that item as all of the frustration and pain from this year. As you drive away from it, imagine yourself driving away from all of that to your new start in Florida." I was encouraged to think of the distance between myself and the totem as the distance between myself and those wounds.

I left a pencil adorned with a pink puff on top on my desk. And drove to Florida.

Two years later (again rounding up) I would be driving away from another church, another family, and another desk. This time however, while there certainly was frustration and pain in that time, there was also joy and growth. I wanted to leave a token behind. This time as a symbol of the good will I found there.


This plastic top appeared one day in one of the Worship Bags we hand out to our kids to give them something to focus on during the service.

However, it didn't come from us. It was left behind. It found its way into my office. I would spin it or just fiddle with it while I was on the phone, or needing a kinetic outlet when I was problem solving. It also saw use when our office email decided to run particularly slowly.

As I waited for the owner to claim it. It quickly became "my top." One of the many items on my desk that were all a part of my time at First UMC in Florida.

As my time in Florida drew to a close, I reflected on my time in California. It was a comfort to see the marked difference between the two experiences. Not just in the day to day of ministry, but in the person I was entering the Sunshine State, and who I was as I prepared to leave.
So, I thought up this little ritual.

One item left behind as a reminder of the new beginning I was about to embark on. Another item left behind as a reminder of the joy brought to me by that place.

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

Day 690

I haven't updated this blog since August.
A few things have happened since then. Both globally and personally.

Where I would like to start is with is some highlights from my second year of ministry. When I began this entry, I was expecting to write about the two or three fundamentally grandiose events that radically changed the direction of my ministry.

But looking back, they weren't there. I assumed they would be. My heart is so full of joy and pride that there must be some grand events that created these feelings. Rather, I noticed countless small events. Little things like trips to serve and trips to play. Participating in you all's lives through stage plays,  band performances, baseball games, and of course movies at Celebration Pointe. I found the peace of God on lazy rivers and inflatable water slides. I had the privilege of standing with teachers and scout masters. I had the privilege of sitting in pews and waiting rooms. I got to speak from the pulpit and from the steps of our altar. I got to listen. Oh, and I got to meet Popeye.

In June, I got to experience Georgia. And more importantly I got to experience God moving through middle school students through service and bonding with each other. Through youth soccer campuses and community gardens as well as games of Sardines and Moose Moose (Hot Dog).

In October, we were asked to help out with the Fall Fun on Metcalfe Street event by being a part of the Trunk or Treat area. Turns out we were three of the four vehicles there. It was great to have been asked to partner with this amazing school.

October was also when I got to serve with these weirdos.

In December, I got to hand these off to brighten the holidays for a few families here in Gainesville.

January was when I met Popeye.

In February, we celebrated with Zeke, remembered Reggie and Malia. As a wise man once said, "Ice Cream Breakfast forever:"

In March there was Pancake Dinners, Ash Wednesday, and Scout's Blue and Gold Banquet.
Then things changed just a little. More on that next time.

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

Day 366

In ministry value and worth are often considered in relationship to the size and number of buildings, money, and people involved. That is to say a successful ministry is measured in bucks, butts, and buildings.

The more you have the better you are doing. However, attraction is not service and numbers do not dictate quality. McDonald's and Coca-Cola are in more places than any world religion has even dared to dream.

Now, this is not about mega churches being bad, or small Bible Study being good. This is about taking a moment to notice the little things.

I believe the little things count. I believe the little things add up. I believe sometimes the little things are really the big things.

Over the last year, I have been compiling a list of the moments in my ministry here at First that may appear to be the little things, but are the seeds that grow, the buds that blossom. They are the bedrock that demonstrate to me that my God is at work here in Gainesville.

Below I have shared some of those with you:

2018 
7/23 I walk into my office to find a bouquet of balloons. One of them reads "Welcome Home"

9/19 Before Chapel, the Pre-School children sing "Happy Birthday" to me

9/24 During Communion, myself and the pastor receive the compliment, "You spittin"

10/7 A visitor who had come with one of our youth families and I had a conversation after church about who we were as a congregation. One of those "Oh, I didn't know Christians believed that" kind of conversations

10/7 Having the privilege to sit next to one of our youth at a worship service at Gator Wesley's (campus ministry) service

10/22 A proud parent sharing opening night video of their actor

11/1 Learning the story of a Saint, whose walk with Jesus was longer than my time here on earth thus far

11/1 Linda looses her head over her boyfriend (Evil Dead Musical)

11/1 Watching one of our youth win the championship game, followed by the end of the year ceremony celebrating both teams

12/10 Discussing the depth of Shalom with a Jewish congregant

12/16 The Sunday where every congregant under the age of eighteen was involved in playing, singing, reading, or acolyting during the service

12/16 Having two youth represented at the District Wide Science Fair Award Ceremony, and them giving each other a high-five as they waited for the other names to be called

2019
1/27 The night where one of the youth, who normally wouldn't give me the time of day, excitedly sharing with me what she knew from the topic we mentioned for next week

2/10 A youth stopping me in the halls to tell me they enjoyed Sunday School

2/27 Being ministered to and encouraged by Scout parents after a particularly rough week (and it was only Wednesday)

3/20 A Scout saying they have something that will make me happy. Followed by the announcement that they had made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to give those experiencing homelessness

4/6 Watching a child's face light up when they hear the inflatable slide at the Art Fair is free to ride

4/7 Watching the youth spend time with each other and work together at the Art Fair

4/10 In the middle of our Chapel unit on the life of Jesus, one of the Pre-School Teachers walked her children into the chapel past the stained glass windows (that we had been using as visual aids) and points out the stories we had done thus far

4/19 A youth flipping through Bible to follow along with the reading at the Good Friday Service

5/4 and 5/5 Watching our church come together to reach out to our community with a crazy Harry Potter themed "Wizard Training" Event 5/5 Watching two youth groups work together to make day two of Harry Potter happen 5/5 Connecting with a (third) youth group at the Harry Potter Event

6/19 When the Director of Music walked into my office and said, "So, I was downloading panels of Spider-Man comics" (y'know for work)

7/10 While teaching the Pre-Schoolers the story of Adam and Eve, and asking "What do you think God did next?" "There is nothing you can do to make God stop loving you" was the reply. (Which is the line we end with every week)

7/13 At the Youth Families Retreat seeing one of the Youth wearing their shirt from the Middle School Mission Trip

7/13 Having a Youth ask me to watch her summer production of Mama Mia

7/14 A parent sending a picture of their first grader reading their new Bible on the way home from service

7/21 A Octogenarian and a three year old playing with an over-sized soccer ball after our Simple Sunday Lunch

7/24 Day 366 of working in the place where all are welcomed (even Harry Potter), and the place that has become HOME

The Friends You Take with You

I moved a lot.
Like three jobs in the last three years a lot.
Like living in four states in the last five years a lot.
Like I have down sized more times than Marie Kondo a lot.
Like even then, I haven't completely unpacked in over a decade a lot.

There are places and people that I love dearly spread across this country. Some of those people are still in the cities where we met, others have gone off on their own adventures having moved since our paths first crossed.

And the reality is, no matter how deep the connection or how many suitcases you own, not everything, not everyone can come with you when you move.

So, instead things come to be reminders of the places you once lived. Physical items become totems of the people who were once near.

Chicago 2011
Bob, Mooby, and Cookie get displayed even before I have any furniture

Over the years, I have accrued a handful of these totems. And they all fit into a single box. A single box that is always made accessible whether the rest of my things are in storage or not. A single box that is always unpacked and its items displayed regardless of where I am.

While it may appear that this box is nothing more than a box of toys, each item carries significance for me.

In the photo on the right, the anthropomorphic tomato, Bob (far left), is progenitor of this tradition of hanging onto items that take on a greater meaning. Bob and I first met in college. Bob survived a mission trip in 1998 to Australia. He beyond being rescued from the more curious among our team, carries with him not just the memories of that trip, but the memories of my four years of college. He holds not only the memories of dorm rooms, study sessions, bad cafeteria food, finals weeks and missions trips, but the memory of everyone I met, everyone who broke my heart, and everyone who loved me in spite of my flaws for those four years in Redding, CA.

Copperopolis 2017
More shelves lead to more of the box unpacked

After college, I spent nine years living in Southern California. It was then I met Mooby. Mooby is the cow (really a golden calf) on Bob's left in the pic above, and on Bob's right in the pic below. Mooby represents a unique group of friends unlike any I have had before. It was becoming a part of this group that allowed me to attend private screenings of small documentaries, wide release studio films, and private indy films that never sought distribution. It is the reason I have the autograph of Johnny Depp's daughter and once had to help a Hollywood director shoo a group of drunk fans out of his bedroom. But it isn't these memories that ensure Mooby a place on the shelf. Rather, it is the friends who saw past my own doubts and insecurities and made me feel welcomed and accepted without having to change anything about myself.

Gainesville 2019
Albert joins Bob, Larry, and Mooby
(apologies to Pastor Beth)

Each of these plush toys and souvenirs that have accumulated over the years represent not only the people and places where they come from, they have come to represent parts of myself. My past and my present. My joys and failures, my pain and my victories. Little slices of my story that add up to where I am today. Parts of my identity reflected in the people and places that shaped them.

Most all of them were gifts, and most came about toward the end or ever after the experiences whose memories they hold. Today, I added a new "friend" to the shelf.

This new friend, Albert (the green one wearing the tee) is different. Albert is on the shelf not just as a totem for what has been, but as a totem for what can be. He represents not only this last year in Gainesville, but my future here. Albert represents the piece of myself that has found a home here in Gainesville.

Albert holds the hope and the faith this place will have many more memories to come.





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

Feb 10th

February 10th has been a date of significance for me the last few years.

In 2016, my world was shaken. In 2018, a muppet hued sunset gave me assurance.

I have already written about the journey I have traveled the last decade, and how my hope is that FUMC is my last stop.

The last two years, February 10th has been a date where I take a moment to stop and take stock of where I am. This year, I didn't even realize it was the 10th until I logged into Facebook and checked my Memories for that day.

I am beginning to focus not what could have been, rather, I am looking at what is. Instead of obsessing about what I have learned and how to use it, I am simply using those lessons in this new setting, and in this new calling.

This year the significance is that the date held no significance. No major revelations. No major moments of clarity.

And maybe that is a good thing.

--Serving God alongside 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