TRAVELER, THERE IS NO ROAD...

CHANGES

We did go for counseling with the whole family. The counselor videotaped us and I looked at myself on the screen and thought, “That’s not me! Where had I gone?”

The counselor proclaimed there was nothing wrong with Frank; I was the one who needed counseling. I did not want to work with this man who saw things this way.

I read in the newspaper about another one who was giving a talk on “I’m OK, You’re OK.” I went to hear him with a friend who was going through a painful divorce. She liked him a lot. I did too.

After the talk, I asked him, “Do you work with ministers?” He smiled and assured me he did, he was one, too. I had found my counselor. Frank and I both joined a group he led in La Jolla.

I began to see I did need something outside the home. I decided to sign up to substitute teach. I had renewed my credential fortunately and vowed I would never let it expire again. I was told by some that they had far more substitutes than they could use in the San Diego City Schools but I didn’t let that deter me. I was learning to listen to myself. I hadn’t worked during the fifteen years of my marriage. I was very nervous about starting and soon found out I could do it! It gave me a new purpose and confidence in my life. I was called the first day of school and regularly after that. Later in the year I got a long-term job. I was proud to have a paycheck.

My counselor, Hedges, had a month long training session he did every January. Now that I had some money to use, I decided to take the big step and do this training in Transactional Analysis. It meant I wouldn’t work that

month. I could do that.

* * *

The women were ambivalent about its value. I was quite surprised. To me, it was like a group of teachers about to graduate and not wanting their credential. This attitude changed in the next two years while I was there. I had arrived at a good time. My classmates were serious and ready to become ordained. We had the first “women in ministry” class. Women ministers were invited to come and speak to us.

The time came when I had to preach my first sermon in church. I was asked to preach in my home church and wasn’t told it was part of the requirement of the Candidates’ Committee. I was glad I didn’t know this as it made it easier. In my preaching class, I saw myself on a video again. I wasn’t proud of my presentation. When I did it in church, I enjoyed it and thought I did better. That was the part of the ministry I wasn’t too sure I would like. It became the most important part and I grew to love it.

Following this, I was taken under care of the presbytery, the next step towards ordination. Oddly enough, or providentially, the meeting was held in the McKinleyville church, many miles to the north. Ten years before, I had met the first woman minister I ever knew in that very place. As I made my statement to Redwoods Presbytery as to why I was going into the ministry, I knew I was on sacred ground. I told them, “I think I am called as a woman for such a time as this.”

Frank was there and stayed in the back of the church. He seemed uneasy, but cordial. On the long five hour ride back, I was glad to have this, another step on the way, accomplished.

In September I began Greek study, one year after Hebrew, another intensive month, focusing on that alone. I still had not received a placement to do my internship. I was close to the edge. Time was running out.