Holy Mustard Batman!

I have never once purchased mustard from the store. Never. And yet, for the past five years, we haven't gone without mustard. We currently have SIX bottles of mustard in our fridge. Six. Yellow Mustard. Mild Yellow Mustard. Dijon Mustard. Two Spicy Brown Mustards. And now, Creole Mustard. 

In our house, an abundance of mustard signifies that friends have moved away. When someone decides to start seminary, they are basically guaranteed to move four times. The first year they have to move to St. Louis. Then during the third year, the seminary places you elsewhere in the country for vicarage (two moves- there and back). Then after the fourth year, they move to their first Call. Four Moves.

Many times when we have friends that move out of St. Louis, one of their last stops is to our house to drop off any perishables (including their mustards) because we have been the constant couple who always stays in St. Louis. We moved here in July 2007 and haven't left since. 

Our first instance of Mustard-Gifting came in 2008 when our friends Jen & Eric moved to their first Call in Wisconsin. We got lots of good Trader Joe's condiments...and at least two mustards. Then, in 2009, we received a couple more mustards and frozen treats from our friends Nick and Kirby as they left for vicarage in North Carolina. 

And recently, Charlie's friend Jarvis moved to South Carolina. (Jarvis is really our friend, but our dog Charlie claimed him early on and they have been buds ever since.) So, the night before we moved, we had Jarvis over for dinner and he brought his perishable food...and the Creole Mustard.

So, now it's our turn to be the Mustard-Gifters. Casey & Kate and Debbie & Charlie- there is mustard in your future! We may have to spread the love a bit, since SIX mustard is probably gift-overload. But instead of being the ones left in St. Louis when everyone else is moving, we are packing everything (but our mustard) and moving too. 

Pardon Me, Would You Have Any Grey Poupon?

Roller Coaster

I haven't written in a while because the only thing I wanted to write about, I couldn't...but now I can! Welcome to the roller coaster that has been our lives for the last 5 months. 

I hate roller coasters. I hate standing in line for them. I hate getting strapped down into the chair of death, with your face smashed between the lap bar. I hate the sick feeling I have the entire ride. And I hate controlling my urge to jump out of my seat to run from the beast after it comes to a stop. This is the reason I have only dared to ride two roller coasters in my life. 

The first was on a youth trip to Worlds of Fun. I was probably in junior high and the thought of roller coasters freaked me out a bit, but I wanted to try it. And I loved it! I rode the Zambezi Zinger, which was probably classified as a kiddie ride it was so tame. No loops, no twists, just up down and around. I rode it 12 times!

Zambezi Zinger, Worlds of Fun

Then, many years later, not wanting to feel left out at another youth trip to Worlds of Fun, I agreed to try the Timberwolf. This is an all-wood roller coaster that should have never passed safety codes! I probably would have enjoyed it more had it not been the most bumpy and painful ride of my life. My fingers were clenched so tightly around the bar in front of me that I thought they might bleed. I have never been that pale white in my life! As the ride came to a stop I remember my utter relief as I jumped out of my seat. 

Timberwolf, Worlds of Fun

I feel like I've been on a roller coaster and I'm waiting to jump out and move on to the next thing. Mark has been at the seminary for four years and for that time we've been counting down to the mystical 'Call Day' we heard so much about from those who have gone before us. Call Day is when all of the pastor candidates get placed in a church. It's an exciting, yet anxiety-ridden service filled with music and preaching and then the candidates are announced. "Mark Anderson...Bethel Lutheran Church...Morton, Illinois."

Let me back up a bit. Two months ago we finished our last of six interviews with churches in St. Louis, Illinois, North Dakota, Michigan, and Maryland. We were told that St. Louis would probably be where we ended up. Then, one horrible night we were told the church had backed out of the Call Process for now. Our hopes for St. Louis were gone and my tears began. The very next morning, another St. Louis church joined the process and our rejoicing started. We were told for months that this was the church we'd be at, that I could continue teaching at Lutheran South and everything would work out well. Then came last Monday.

Monday afternoon Mark was called into the Placement office and was told that we weren't staying in St. Louis, and this time it was final. I felt like the villagers who were fooled by the boy who cried wolf. I was sad...very sad. I had flashes of having to tell my resource students, who I have been with for four years and see multiple times a day, that I was leaving. I was overwhelmed with sadness.And then, Mark told me where we would be. Morton, IL. I felt a spark of excitement. The church in Morton is doing amazing things in their community and is exactly the kind of church Mark and I had always envisioned we would serve in. It is perfect for us. God knew better than we did, as usual. So, now I'm in a strange place. I'm sad and yet overjoyed at the same time. The roller coaster is sliding to a stop, and I feel sadness for having to leave, but I am so ready to jump out of my seat and begin the next adventure!