What Defines Us?

     I mentioned in an earlier post that David's car bit the dust a couple months back.  Unexpected, but there it was.  Since we were traveling a lot this summer, I thought we could probably get by with just the two cars.  David works from home, after all, and Aislynn and Jonah would go back to school in the fall.  But as we unloaded everything out of the car, I found myself shaking my head and wondering how long it would be before one of the other two would also reach that point where it no longer made sense to try to fix it.  That point came last week.  The Toyota Camry (a 1995!!) has gone a long way, but when it started having issues and we took it to the shop, our mechanic said it was probably the transmission and so, car number two is now gone as well.  While I was certain we could hobble along with two cars, the five of us trying to share one car felt like a stretch.  Even considering that most of the year it will be only three of us at home, one car still felt like it would really be a great inconvenience, to say the least.  Finally, since we have become accustomed to using the electric car for most of our driving, this last week's need to fill the lone car's gas tank twice also convinced us that it was in our best interest to try to find another electric car.  We had heard that many rental car companies were getting rid of their electric fleets fairly cheaply, so that is the route we went and we now have a new (used) Kia.  Putting aside the financial concerns, it is fun to have a new car to get to know.  

    But all of that is an introduction to say that we spent about 3 hours at the Enterprise sales office this weekend.  The young man who helped us was really nice, and with David and Aislynn along, there was a great deal of laughter and joking that we shared.  At one point we had to fill out the financing forms and David and I needed to tell him what we did for a living and who employed us. Because we'd been laughing and kidding each other so much, I felt comfortable asking him, "Guess what I do?"  He smiled, looked at me for a long time and said, "Oh, I think it could be just about anything."  (That is not a direct quote... if you want to know what he really said, you'll have to ask me...)  When I told him I was a pastor though, he nearly choked.  He was like, "Oh wow.  I did NOT see that coming!"  Hm.  I found myself wondering what I convey that made that so surprising.

    While we were on our UK tour, I had a conversation about music with someone who asked if I played an instrument and I told her that yes, I played several, but piano primarily. I wasn't telling her that it was my job, but somehow that was the message that got conveyed and there never seemed to be a time or a place to correct the impression that working as a pianist was my primary career.  That misunderstanding ended up being passed along to others on the tour, and it was only a couple people who, on asking directly, knew that I was a pastor.  Interestingly, the wife of this couple is a professional church organist, working at a United Methodist Church so we had some good conversations about church.  Still, it was a different experience for me to be in a group of people, most of whom did not know what I do.  

    I have assumed I would be a pastor since I was in first grade.  It has been my career focus, but also my identity then for 50 years.  That is a long time to be known for this role, for this focus, for this faith.  And to be in a position where, for 12 days people did not know what I did was interesting and unique for me.  But I also learned some things.

    First, people talk differently around me when they don't know what I do.  There was a lot more foul language, more raunchy jokes, a lot less apologizing for both, and more invitations to join in on the laughter than when I'm in groups who know what I do.  I guess that's not a surprise, though I don't see myself as judgmental about how people talk or play.  In some ways, that was freeing.  There weren't the assumptions about what would offend or upset me.  There wasn't the caution or carefulness around me about what could or should be said.  

    I also did not have the experience, as I've shared that I often have on airplanes, of my job scaring away conversations.  The most common reaction I've received in telling people on airplanes what I do for a living is for them to no longer want to talk to me.  And since only this very nice couple knew what I did on the tour, I didn't have that experience of people disengaging because of assumptions and fears around what it means that I'm a pastor. 

    But the other side of the coin is that I've found that many people open up a great deal when they know what I do.  Conversations can go deep and beyond small talk  when people know you are a person who engages with faith and people's life transitions on a regular basis.  I've had people share with me (second most common airplane reaction) stories of their lives that have both stunned but also gifted me to hear.  Many people trust that pastors will keep confidences and know how to listen.  The only people on the UK tour with whom I did share real conversation was the couple who knew what I did. My role opens doors that I missed by not sharing what I do.  

    All of this also caused me to step back and wonder what is core to my identity.  Is it being a pastor?  Is it being a mom?  A wife?  A friend?  A child of God?  Or is it just being a person, being me?  I think that the core of my identity has changed through time.  Being a mom has been and continues to be important for me.  But being a pastor has also always been foundational for me as both one of the core markings of my identity, but also as just a marker to say that my relationship with God has been foundational to my being.  

    There are times when I regret all the assumptions that are made about me when people know what I do for work.  I don't like it when people stifle who they are, or apologize for their language or their jokes because of what I do.  As I've shared before, I dislike the assumptions some around me have made about what I believe and what kind of person I therefore am.  But hating the assumptions does not change the fact that being a pastor is who I am, who I believe I am called to be, what I love and what I want to do with my time, with my life.  I am a person who feels a strong call to live a life of faith, and of teaching, and of support to others also walking a faith journey.  I am a person who chooses to check in with God, with Love, with the Divine in all that I do and I love that this can be central in my work.  This is who I am.

        So the question remains, if I were to go on another trip like this, would I be more forthcoming about what I do?  I think I would.  I think the desire to be invisible for a while proved to me that I am a pastor at core, and I don't want to hide from that. Good experience though... interesting and different for me.