the low

(h/t Scott Erikson, whose book I should probably read?)

(part of) St. Christopher in the Staatskirche St. Nikolaus, Wil. He's a real giant in this one!

I'm struggling.

I have an appointment to talk with the dean of the theology school in Chur about the results of the psychological assessment on March 20. It's a small relief to have a date, but I don't expect good things. Who would want a minister who can't talk to people? 

And if this isn't my next step, what is? 

For being the substitute sacristan in February for six Sunday masses, two Ash Wednesday services, and a funeral I will be paid precisely SFr. 666. Just sayin'.

My spiritual advisor said that maybe this would be a good time to think about other ways I could make money.

It's hard to escape the conclusion that last year's self-improvement project of 30 minutes of daily exercise was far more fruitful than this year's project of 30 minutes of daily prayer.

So.

For Lent I've decided to try to find things to like about myself every day. Which is absolutely as self-centered as it sounds but also...I can easily tell you ten things I fucked up in the last hour, but coming up with one thing I did right in the whole day is remarkably hard. So here's hoping for some improved self talk.

On Wednesday, my only son and I took a field trip to the city of Wil in Canton St. Gallen (population 25,000) to see a big St. Christopher mural. He - my son, not the painting - was in a dismal mood because he's spent his school break trying to learn algebra and the grammar of the passive voice in German and also because teenage hormones can just be sucky. But on the train and I convinced him to lean against me and take a nap, and he woke up feeling much more chipper. I'm quite a decent cuddler.

On Thursday...um...well I finished my sacristan stint without messing up anything too badly, and then I went out to lunch with a friend, so there is at least one person who can stand spending a couple hours of social time with me.

Friday was pizza night. My pizza skillz have evolved over the years from throwing a frozen one in the oven to assembling pre-rolled dough and pre-shredded cheese to making the dough from scratch and hand-stretching it. 3/3 family members approve of my pizzas.

Today I went to various second-hand and eco-friendly clothing stores to look for a long black skirt or dress for my skirt-and-dress-allergic daughter who might nevertheless be required to wear one for an upcoming orchestra concert. I think this counts as helping someone?

And I wrote this post. Go me.