A Letter to My Church

To our brother and sisters, our friends and our family in Waldport:

The time has come to remember, to celebrate, and to part ways. Our time here has come to an end so that you may walk into a new beginning. Our epilogue is the new beginning of what God is doing next here in this place, through you and in you.

We are grieving our separation from you as deeply as you are grieving us. But we must turn to the next thing, becoming single-minded as we stretch and begin the next leg of our race, and so must you. Yes, this is difficult. It was not for no reason that the apostle Paul called it “straining” toward the goal. It is a strain. It is difficult. Yet we press on.

We are grateful to you for countless moments shared talking, laughing, crying, praying, eating, playing, working, and singing. We are grateful for your help and hospitality, your patience and forgiveness, your love and affection for us and our daughter. Truly we could not have asked more of a congregation. But as we prepare to step away, I ask one thing:

If you love us, feed these sheep.

Feed the children and teens and young adults who come to church, and the ones who don’t. Feed the Frontline kids, the Young Life kids, the graduates, and the younger siblings. Feed their parents and their unplanned babies. Feed the hungry and the stuffed with overconfidence; the talented and the awkward; the go-getters and the do-nothings; the thinkers, dreamers, in-betweeners. Feed their leaders all the support, resources, and encouragement they can hold.

Feed them with Oreos and soda and pizza and chips. Feed them Mondays before Club and Sundays at Frontline. Feed them a sandwich at the game, lunch out just to talk, or a holiday feast in your home. Feed them the next day with the leftovers you sent home.

Feed them the Word, with Scripture that never changes in language they can understand. Feed them words of recognition and encouragement in the grocery store, at the car wash, on the street. Feed them the Living Word by being the Christ who gives rides to town, who helps with financial aid forms, who simply knows their name. Be Christ with your presence where they are competing or performing or just plain being.

You can do this. You can make a difference. You are ready.

We have taken many steps together, but you can go on in this work without us. God is with you. He will make a way. “He will not let your foot slip—he who watches over you will not slumber” (Psalm 121:3).

And so, as the time draws near, I am finding rest in remembering that Jehovah Jireh, the God Who Provides, is also the Prince of Peace. He will make the way, and He will be present to comfort us when the road seems long and the distance great. And so, dear friends,

For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom his whole family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.

(Ephesians 3:14–21)

He is able, and I know you are willing. I can’t wait to see what He does with you next.

Blessings—

Wendy

Let's See How Far We've Come

2003

2004
2005

2006

2007
2008

2009

The Transition Team Announces: Change.Wetzel

Ducks are in rows. Wheels are in motion. Proposals have been accepted. Tiny adolescent hearts have been broken. And the transition team of Change.Wetzel wishes to announce:

Aaron will be starting studies at Western Theological Seminary in Holland, Michigan, in fall 2009.

Your first reaction to this news probably depends greatly on where you live. For our friends and family in Michigan, there is much rejoicing. Here in Oregon, well . . . there is great support, great understanding, and great love, but there is also great sadness at the thought of parting from the place and the people which have very much become home and family. (So no gloating, please, Michigan folk.)

Aaron has been accepted to WTS to study for his M.Div degree and become an ordained pastor. It’s a three-year program. This is something he’s always thought about doing someday, and over the last couple years he’s had more opportunities to preach and lead in different ways and received more encouragement that made him more able to see himself doing it. He’s just ready.

And I’m pleased to be able to fulfill the prophecy laid out by my best friend back in high school, that I will be a pastor’s wife. (I also recall something about the organ and a “pastor’s wife’s butt,” whatever that means, but let’s let that part go.)

I should have declared a moratorium on mascara last week, because it was terribly emotional. A few people—basically the church elders—knew our plans but we wanted to tell a few more in person before the whole congregation found out. But we didn’t want it to get out to the kids; we needed to tell them ourselves, all at once, so they didn’t hear any misinformation or feel slighted that some were told and some weren’t. Sunday morning the church was told (not gonna lie, I cried through church and then avoided talking to people) and Sunday night Aaron told the kids at Frontline. The girls, the grownups, and Aaron bawled.

We’ll be here and Aaron will keep working for the church through the school year. We hope we can help the church and our friend from the Foursquare church who has been partnering with Aaron on Frontline this year be able to keep a ministry to kids going strong into the future. We really hope our church has a pastor by summer too. It’s such a strange and difficult time to be breaking this news and bringing more change upon our church, but we hope the long notice will actually help smooth the transition.

Besides, we couldn't wait any longer to tell—do you know how much stuff we have to figure out before summer? We have to get our house ready to sell, try to sell our house in this lovely market, look for a job in the lovely Michigan job market, find health insurance on the open not-for-sick-people market, figure out finances and financial aid, figure out what to do with our pets (boo hoo), figure out how to move across the country, get rid of everything we don’t want to move . . . and oh yeah, do it all while proceeding through our regularly scheduled life with a toddler underfoot.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Help! Will you be my transition team?

I hope to step up my blogging since I have a thousand rampant thoughts clamoring to finally get out of my head. Let me know if you have questions I can answer.

Surviving Weekends; Alienating Babysitters?

That was a really long short full weekend. (Kind of like this post. Sorry. Everybody needs an editor and I'm too tired to be mine.)

Friday is normally Aaron's day off; he had to go in to work, and I went to church for a while to get some things ready for our big congregational workshop Saturday. (Then we had a really nice evening with friends, but that is beside the point because I'm trying to garner sympathy here, okay?)

Saturday I went to church at 8:00 a.m. (I know!) for our 9:00-2:00 meeting. I had to give the first part of the presentation, trying to act all smartypants with my PowerPoint and my statistics and my worksheets and my making the people hold up their fingers so they would remember what number group they're in (a very sophisticated business technique). We had a great turnout and everyone seemed pleased with the discussions, so I guess all went well--but that's just draining when you're largely responsible for making sure it does.

Rescued the babysitter, put Anna down for her nap, entered catatonic why-aren't-I-napping-too? state. Got Anna up and bundled us up for the youth group bonfire on the beach. We had about 25 people enjoying hot dogs, s'mores, football, and (in Anna's case) getting sand all over themselves. It was chilly at first but the wind actually died down and it was really nice to be out there. (Photos to come.)

I brought Anna home for a bath, and by the time Aaron got home she was running around like a crazy, diaper-clad Tazmanian devil: spinning, dancing, falling down, crawling back and forth under the dog, and doing her favorite cheerleading moves (the Irish Rumble). She was so hilarious! We just sat around laughing at her and shaking our heads at her insane antics.

Sunday we had church (again! in the morning, again!), then watched football, if that's still what you call it. Anna was a wicked combination of overtired and stubborn and didn't fall asleep until 4:00. I don't know what was up but after about an hour she woke up screaming . . . and pretty much didn't stop for an hour.

Aaron had to leave just after she got up and she FREAKED. OUT. and wouldn't settle down. She was in almost constant meltdown, falling apart at any little thing or no apparent thing. She didn't want to eat, wouldn't really let me eat, had no patience and a hundred demands. I had worried that the weekend would be too busy for her (babysitters and going places and teenagers--all beloved but exhausting) but wouldn't you know it? I couldn't skip Frontline because we would be splitting up the guys and girls and I had to be on the "panel" for the guys' discussion.

Somebodyerother's Law: The only time your child will need you to stay home will be the one time you cannot skip out on being somewhere else. Or to put it another way, if there is a function you must attend, your child will choose one hour before that function to FREAK OUT.

Now mind you I'm not mad at Anna for this. She clearly was overtired and needed some quiet time at home. I'm not sure if/how attachment factors into the clingyness and anxiety that seems to show up at such times but if us going off and doing things makes her feel insecure/needy, well, that's not her fault either.

So at 5:30 I called the lady from church who was going to watch Anna during Frontline and said I didn't know exactly what I was doing but didn't think I should take Anna to her house (where she's never been before). I thought maybe I'd go late and leave early and have somebody amuse Anna at church for as little time as possibly necessary. Now mind you we'd already had a little confusion and changing of plans that morning as to the evening's arrangements. So I felt like a real schmoe telling this lady who obviously now was all ready and excited to have Anna over that I wasn't going to bring her. But I really felt like if I took her to this new place and then left, there would be total meltdown that I would be paying for much longer than the hour and a half.

Anna did settle down by about 6:00 and I called back and said if you could come to church and watch her during the discussion part, that'd be great, and if not because you've written me off as a weirdo indecisive paranoid advantage-taking freak who can't understand the concept that you wanted to be at your house because it's not easy for you to get out and about, that's okay, I'll ask someone else who is there or whatever since this is really all my fault and problem anyway.

Okay, I didn't exactly get all that out. I don't know what I said but I hope it sounded somewhat humble and intelligible, and mostly I hope that she doesn't think it was about her or her house at all and will be willing to try again another night. It really wasn't--truly Anna was not in a good state and I didn't want her to think I was punishing her for it. But how do I explain the attachment issue connection when I'm not even sure if there is one? Objectively I think she was just tired but in my gut I think if I'd pushed it there maybe could have been some attachment implications. Or whatever you call her velcroed to my leg crying for three days. I don't know, maybe not, but I didn't want to put her (or me) through it.

People with attachment/adoption experience, what do you think? Am I fully or only partially nutters? I need some parental affirmation here!

Of course Anna was a bouncy little angel the whole time in the nursery, thus ensuring it seemed like she would have been fine anytime anywhere. Oh well.

The good news is that even though we had to be gone again Monday night, she had a grand time with the friend who came over and was good today despite being up late again.

The further exhausting and scary yet exciting news is that we had at least FIFTY-THREE high schoolers at our first Young Life Club on Monday, practically busting out the walls of the little clubhouse. May I remind you that this was the first club and there are only 225 kids in our high school--a fifth were there. And I'm pretty sure it was the rowdy fifth! Oh, lordy . . . what the heck are we going to do with them all?!

Whew. For some reason I'm tired. Thus I'm publishing this in its ridiculously long and wordy state. If you made it this far, you are now probably as tired as I am!

Weekly Whatnot

This week Aaron got hit with the plague--a version of the complete-knockout sickness going around. He is feeling better, and the rest of us have stayed clear of it so far. (Lord, protect my child.)

The other day I went by Pastor J. and his wife K.'s house as they were packing up. Strange to see their house nearly empty. And lots of memories brought back by helping wipe out cupboards (as K. helped me when we moved in here), by a big yellow moving truck, by the panicked Are we going to get everything in? look on K.'s face when she came home and saw it. I decided I'd better say good-bye and get out of the way.

At the church we are getting by after saying good-bye. We have pulpit supply lined up for a while (featuring Aaron for Holy Week) and an interim pastor search team formed. It's certainly a lot of heavy lifting for those who serve in multiple capacities in the church, though. We hope and pray we get pastoral leadership in here before they burn out. Aaron has also been discovering just how many people come to the church wanting things he can't help them with and just how little he can get done when he's the only one there to tell them he can't help them with those things.

I took our taxes in to be done today. I must confess that despite my sworn aversion to all things numerical, I find a certain satisfaction in getting the taxes done. It's like a puzzle. And a challenge to set a new personal best for most deductions. I did our taxes myself for a few years after my dad gave me some tips, but I gave it up when we moved across states and I went self-employed. This year I had the mother of all paper stacks for the accountant, what with all the medical and adoption stuff. It took me parts of several days just to get it organized, but I kept telling myself that the trouble should "earn" us a nice fat refund, which we will promptly use to take a trip to Maui pay off all our prior stimulation of the economy (health care and travel sectors in particular).

That's all the news that isn't. Photo post coming soon.

(About 41, but who's counting?)

This awesome cartoon by Dave Walker is from the awesome CartoonChurch.com.

Changes Come

Changes are coming to our little church, our family here in SmallPort: Pastor J. is leaving in just a few weeks. He told us a couple weeks before Christmas. He has taken a position at a church in Northern California.

Aaron is a youth pastor; he's employed by our church. So this change means even more in our lives than it would if J. were "just" our pastor and not also Aaron's boss, a friend, and in a sense the reason we came out here to Oregon. And it means a lot of unstability and uncertainty in the church for a while, and therefore a bit of anxiety about budgets and jobs and all those sorts of things. You know, the things that keep our lives on the path they're on and our checkbook in near the black.

I think a lot of us in the church have a lot of mixed feelings about this. On the one hand we are obviously sad to say goodbye to someone who's been a teacher, a friend, a part of so much of our lives for so long. On the other hand I think a lot of us felt it coming and honestly were relieved that if there was going to be a parting, it's happening this way, where we can be genuinely happy for him because he's excited about the new place he's being called to (as opposed to, say, "I can't take you people any more!"). The last couple years have had some rough times for our little church. We've lost people, we've lost tempers, and sometimes we've darn near lost hope. We've always been able to pull together enough to carry on, but sometimes it's just time for a change.

Although, as I said, we are starting a very uncertain time, I think in the long run the change will be good for us. It will force us to rearticulate and affirm who we are and who we want to be. It will require us to pull together and put old differences behind us. It asks us to go all in, and so far the congregation seems willing to stand together for their church family.

We will use pulpit supply (substitute teacher preachers) for a few months while we look for an interim pastor. Those hoping Aaron will start preaching a lot . . . better get over it. He does such a good job, but he puts so much time into it to do so that is too busy with the kids to do it too often. The interim pastor will not only preach but provide some leadership to help guide us in our search for a new pastor. Unfortunately, there's apparently a shortage of interim pastors in Oregon . . . oh dear, this whole thing could take a while . . . sigh.

Changes come
Turn my world around

I have my father's hand
I have my mother's tongue
I look for redemption in everyone

Changes come
Turn my world around
Changes come
Bring the whole thing down
Jesus come
Turn the world around
Lay my burden down

Over the Rhine

Baptism in Pictures

For those of you craving more detail (for some strange reason), here are more pictures from Anna's baptism day, with helpful captions and witty commentary.

First, Pastor J says some stuff. We taught Anna to look interested.

Next, we hand her off so he can show his skills
at juggling a baby and a small pitcher of water while praying.
He holds a doctorate in this.

Water is applied to baby's forehead in thoughtfully small amounts,
despite to a certain reverend's reputation to the contrary.
Baby's father shows signs of needing to go get a glass of water himself.(When said father starts to cry during a movie, he suddenly thirsts and goes to the kitchen to get a glass of water as a coverup. However, since he once revealed this to the whole church in a sermon, now everyone knows what a big crybaby he is, especially when adoption-pregnant. I mean, come on--A Night at the Museum? That's not a tearjerker.)


Pastor says, "Ta-daaaaa!"
Or is it "Whaaaat? Did you think I was going to dump this whole thing on her?"
(Um, why do you think there are twelve towels on hand?)


We hold up all of coffee mingle to pose for the paparazzi parishioners.
In case you didn't know, "coffee mingle" is not half regular, half decaf.
It is Presbyterian for "fellowshiping," which passes as a word only
in the Baptist dialect, roughly translated "hanging out over food."


It was a lovely cake. Even butterflies were drawn to it.


On your baptism day you are allowed to stick your fist into your cake.
You don't want to know what I'm doing in the above picture.
I edited it out to spare my mother. But I bet some of you could guess.


Mmm, mmm, sacramentally good!

The Truest Thing About Her

This year’s Young Life leadership camp speaker reminded us of a great truth: What is the truest thing about you? Your name. Who you are. Who God made you to be—his child whom he calls by name. You belong to God—in Amharic, Yegetanesh.

Yesterday at church, in the presence of friends and a great cloud of witnesses, Anna Jubilee Yegetanesh joined our church family through a simple affirmation of God’s covenant with us through baptism:

Aaron and Wendy, do you desire for Anna to be baptized?
We do.

Relying on God’s grace, do you promise to live the Christian faith and to teach that faith to your child?
We do.

Do you, congregation, as members of the church of Jesus Christ, promise to guide and nurture Anna, by word and deed, with love and prayer, encouraging her to know and follow Christ and be a faithful member of his church?
We do.

And so with joy we dedicated to God that which is already his yet ours to watch over. We cling to the covenant promise that as he calls her by name, he whispers to her soul the truest thing about her: Yegetanesh—you belong to God.

Let the people sing:

I have a Maker
He formed my heart
Before even time began
My life was in his hands

He knows my name
He knows my every thought,
He sees each tear that falls
And hears me when I call

I have a Father,
He calls me his own
He’ll never leave me,
No matter where I go

He knows my name
He knows my every thought
He sees each tear that falls
And hears me when I call

Tommy Walker, "He Knows My Name (I Have a Maker)"

Baptism This Sunday

Anna will be baptized this Sunday. Everyone wants to know what she is wearing (I think they all want to buy her something) and I'm happy to report that she fits in the traditional Ethiopian dress we bought in Addis and so will be able to wear that.

Please join us if you'd like--10:30 a.m., CPC in Smallport.