Welcome to An Irreverent Ruckus

(Fyi, I used to blog in another place, and have taken it all down.  This was originally posted on 04/21/2017.)

A former pastor... 

A year ago, nearly to the day, I stood before my congregation saying something like, "I see you got my letters."  All kinds of emotions in their faces, and all over mine as well.  That week I had mailed letters of resignation, and this was the first time we had all gathered after the news broke.  I was going to take a break from ministry, and that meant no longer serving as their pastor.  

I need to say this now, and will probably repeat it often.  This congregation was full of kind, wonderful people.  I miss them to this day, and choosing to leave was very difficult.  Especially because I knew - I know - they love me.  I was their eager, just-out-of-seminary, tattooed, cycling, beer-swilling pastor!  (True story, at my initial interview, they presented me with a basket full of chocolate and home brews.  We fell hard for one another.)  And they were hard-working, well-meaning, joyful church members.  And I mean, joyful.  They needed to be calmed and shushed, to begin services on Good Friday!  On Good Friday!  Seriously folks, he's gotta get on with dying and it's gotta happen tonight.  

However.  Both at the congregational level, and our wider denominational region's level, and most especially, at MY level, how do they like to say it, "mistakes were made."  I have journaled and prayed and definitely vented (thanks, friends and family!) my way through all the years I was serving, and also this year since leaving.  I'm untangling the crazy-making knot of what I could have, should have done at different times, what I didn't know, didn't understand, and sometimes, what I wouldn't see.  And trying to acknowledge, without abdicating my part, the whole situation.  

So some of this blog will be related to ministry, to leaving ministry, to the ups and downs of organized religion and its communities, and hopefully in the midst of telling what there is to tell, this blog will have pieces about my own faith and beliefs.  

... Getting out of debt... 

I will level with you.  I am a pretty shitty financial steward, and have been since my very first paying work (lifeguarding, for the curious).  I've always been a spender.  I experience cash not just burning holes in my pockets, but as an 18-wheeler-sized fireball rolling through REIs, Performance Bicycles, the women's section of most department stores, and high-end groceries stores across this fine country.  Oh, and the beer section, of anywhere.  Gas station?  I'm not ashamed.  

But I should be.  (I am, now, due to recently facing reality.)  I am in debt!  Just under $100,000.  I have been out of undergrad for 12 years, and I owe for it.  Sure, I deferred payments for "good reasons," like entering a volunteering program for a year, and going to seminary.  But even if you subtract those years of deferral (and hello, compounding interest is NOT a friend), I still know that some of my college classmates who borrowed more than I did, managed to repay their loans in less time.  Good on 'em, too.  I'm impressed, and happy for them!  

And then there are the seminary loans - oof.  I've been out of grad school now for 6 years, and I owe for it.  Actually more now than the day I graduated.  Have I mentioned being a shitty financial steward?  Here's an example of just how: I was awarded scholarships that covered tuition, but still took out loans for my "costs of living," and then exercised precious zero self-control regarding shopping, eating out, driving, etc etc etc.  What the hell was I doing??  I should have either taken out less, or immediately returned a large portion of each loan disbursement.  Oh, hindsight.  

I will say, I had no idea what I was doing when I borrowed these amounts, and didn't do anything approaching due diligence about it.  I just believed everyone around me saying student loans were normal, they were "good" debt, and what's more, you'll definitely be able to pay it back, over time, on that pastor's salary.  Heh.  

What's changed?  My mind.  My priorities.  I'll be turning 35 this summer, and regardless of my income level (which right now is quite low), I want to be out of debt before I'm 40.  I've got some dreams, yo.  I might need to hold some of those cards close to the chest for a while yet, but no folding.  

So some of this blog will be about my journey out of debt.  I've found a few helpful resources and some inspiration, but mostly I need the accountability that a public story will create.  I've also got a lot of posts waiting in the wings, about money and faith.  

... In a fast slow lane.  

What do I mean by a fast slow lane?  A couple things.  

One, my ride these days is a previously-owned black 2007 Honda Ruckus.  A scooter.  50cc engine, and no modifications.  Maybe some mods, someday, but I love this little guy completely, as is.  I get around just fine, and it is so much fun!  But I max out at about 35-40 mph.  My boyfriend says no, the speedometer has aspirations, I'm probably lucky to ever break 35.  Well ok then.  The slow lane it is.  (The story of becoming a scooter enthusiast is a post of its own.)  

And two, did you see that article circulating at least a couple years back (I'll work on citation and link), which explained social privilege and experiencing racism through an analogy of bicycling on city streets?  I can't remember where the article's keen observations end and my own thoughts about it since then begin, and I will do my best to find it and cite it.  But from memory, the analogy was something like, people with privilege are the drivers.  They have a lot of power and speed, and are insulated from many conditions.  And above all, the environment was built according to their needs.  And people with less privilege are like cyclists - much less power, less speed, vulnerable to conditions, vulnerable to careless or even malicious drivers, and of course, trying to navigate life in an environment that is not optimized for cycling.  (Please don't say, "get a car," ok?  It's an analogy, and the identities discussed, the bicycles and cars, if you will, are identities, not goddamn accessories.  Also, it's an analogy and doesn't imply dehumanizing.)  This article was such a great piece!  It has continued to provoke thoughts and insights.  And now, a blog tagline!  

So some of this blog will be about navigating life with the identity I have, trying to be as honest and ready to learn as I can be.  I acknowledge I'm in a fast slow lane - I don't have every privilege, but I am aware that I have a lot.  Right now, I have a low income, and a lot of debt, and I'm now doing everything I can to turn that around.  I'm a woman in a patriarchal culture.  But.  That's about it, and that means that WAY too much is gamed in my favor: I'm white, highly educated, native English speaking, documented, my parents are still married to one another and we had a functional and supportive home life, I'm housed in a ridiculously safe neighborhood, my intimate relationship is full of respect and love.  I have access to healthy food and clean water.  Police officers call me "miss."  Increasingly, it's "ma'am," and I've got a few grays... shit!  

I didn't create ANY of that (ok I did create the intimate relationship, thanks, Bumble!).  And I am not here to make a show of how checked my privilege is, or to moan helplessly that I can't give this privilege to others with a different identity, a different story.  (Um, that would be the ULTIMATE way of saying their identity or story isn't whatever-enough.  What a load of crap that would be.)  

To borrow that fantastic analogy one more time, I'll be rocking the Ruckus as respectfully as possible, sharing the road, shaming the malicious drivers, and contributing to better and more bicycle rights!  

So, welcome to An Irreverent Ruckus.  A former pastor, getting out of debt, in a fast slow lane.