One of these days, when I have lots of time on my hands (when I retire from active ministry, maybe!), I'm going to write a book called Ten Things I Never Learned in Seminary. Some of the chapter titles will be Are You Married to Your Spouse or Your Congregation?, When the Pastor's Kids Aren't Perfect (And They Are Also Yours!), Do I Have to Attend ALL the Committee Meetings?, and Funerals: How To Do Almost All of the Talking and NOT Be the Star of the Show.

If there is any single issue in my spiritual life that I struggle with on a daily basis it is that last one &endash; the issue of how it is to be constantly in an environment that encourages the pastor to talk, and yet feel called above all else to just listen. Every day I deal with leading session meetings and congregational meetings and worship services, all environments in which I do more speaking than anyone else. I attend committee meetings and community luncheons. I teach Sunday school classes and lead Bible studies. How do I do most of the talking in those situations and at the same time create a space where everyone listens first of all to God's Spirit, second to one another, and lastly to me? How do I respond to people who trust me with their troubles and then wait for my answer for their lives? It seems so difficult to get out of the way so God's Spirit can work. After almost five years of ordained ministry, I still struggle most with listening - to God, to others, to myself. 

As seminary students we were all encouraged to express ourselves constantly in papers, oral presentations, sermons, ordination exams and periodic self-evaluations with mentors and peers. My presbytery required intensive psychological evaluation &endash; several sessions of me doing most of the talking and the counselor doing most of the listening. The PCUSA ordination process meant I met with Committee on Preparation for Ministry members who mostly listened while I talked about my life and my vocation and my studies. Even my family spent too many hours listening while I wrestled aloud with Old Testament exegesis, Christian ethics and Greek verbs. Ultimately, the call process itself, with its hours of telephone interviews, face-to-face meetings, and finally the candidating sermon and congregational meeting, is one that initiated an environment where I did most of the talking and my new congregation did most of the listening.

My first call was as the Associate Pastor for Discipleship in a 700-member congregation in Anchorage, Alaska. I had a blessed four years there, serving and being served, succeeding and failing, giving and receiving and learning to love God's people in that place. But I feel that I still did entirely too much talking and not nearly enough listening.

My life, whether as a full-time mom, a full-time student, a combination of both, or a full-time pastor (and full-time mom and wife!), always tends towards being way too busy. When we moved to Alaska my husband had just retired from twenty-one years of active duty in the U.S. Navy and my children were fifteen, thirteen and eleven. We faced the incredible challenges of getting settled in a new city and making the transitions to civilian life and full-time ministry and three new schools and two parents working - and those were just the challenges at home!

At church I had the challenge of living into my call as a Minister of Word and Sacrament and learning to know the staff and the congregation. I realized slowly that ordained ministry isn't a coat you take off every evening when you walk in the back door, but a second skin that fits very well sometimes and at others chafes around the edges and causes visible wrinkles. Although I was happy in my love and appreciation for my congregation and in theirs for me, my life got busier and busier and I talked more and more. I was listening often, yes, but my life experiences and my ministry situation all encouraged me to keep on talking. Slow down and be quiet were not words that were part of my internal or external vocabulary.

In December 2000 my continued overwork and lack of sleep landed me in the hospital for two weeks with bacterial pneumonia and septicemia. I was critically ill for many days. I spent the first few days fighting my illness and my hospitalization, making the situation worse for me and for my healing. But my husband brought my CD player from my office and my collection of worship CDs. I was moved to a different room where I could see the mountains. My congregation sent bouquet after bouquet of flowers so that my room smelled like a garden. The power of prayer became a reality to me and to my family. Slowly my hospital room became a quiet place of peace, and I knew that God was present with me, even there. That experience taught me how easily I'm tempted to work too many hours and to skimp on sleep, and I'm beginning to defeat those demons, but I'm still rushing too fast and talking too often.

Now I am the solo pastor of a 100-member congregation in a small town fifteen miles northeast of Anchorage. The discernment process that I went through as I learned to hear God calling me to leave the congregation in Anchorage and move to a new one was again a process that encouraged me to do most of the talking and not much listening. Now I do even more talking than before. I attend ALL the committee meetings and I preach ALL the sermons. People are genuinely interested in what I have to say and who I am, and their interest is seductive. It leads me into thinking that my stories are more important than theirs, that my Scriptural insights come from more and better study time and that my opinion counts the most - after all, I'm the pastor, right?

When my second son, Cameron, was small he often felt squeezed between an older, very vocal brother and a younger, and equally as vocal, sister. Sometimes, in the midst of a busy day with three preschoolers, I would feel a gentle tug on the hem of my shirt. Cameron, tired of being overlooked, would tug on me until he had my attention. When I finally looked at him, he would pull at me until I bent down to his level. Putting his little hands on either side of my face, he would hold me still and stare into my eyes and say, "See my in my eyes, Mommy. See my in my eyes!"

I want to give the people in my congregation that same gift of focused attention that my small son needed from me. I want to be able to focus on listening to God with a mind and heart that are undistracted by the busy-ness of my life. I want to pay attention to the whisperings of the Holy Spirit. I want to be able to slow down and listen to myself, to be truly present to the people and places that are important to me.

I'm learning that those times of attention and focus come in small doses. When I see the beauty of an Alaskan sunset, the sun painting the mountains in rose and blue, I hear God speaking. When I'm preparing a sermon and lose myself in study, I find peace. When I'm privileged to share someone's journey and able to offer prayers of support and encouragement, I know God is present. When I have unexpected moments of hilarious laughter with my teenaged daughter, the Holy Spirit is drawing us closer together. When I share the Lord's Supper with the people God has formed into this congregation, I am thankful for those wondrous moments of worship.

The Psalmist's words Be still and know that I am God are beginning to ring true for me in a new way. The moments of stillness and listening often come unexpectedly, surprising me. I am ever conscious of talking too much and listening too rarely, but I'm grateful to God for the quiet moments that do come. I'm learning to realize that those moments come in the midst of community, in the center of my life as pastor, as friend, as wife and as mom. Perhaps they are more precious because of that. Deep in my soul I will always yearn for long days of quiet and hours of uninterrupted conversation with God and with God's people, and maybe someday that will be my life. For today, I will cherish the fact that God is waiting for me to listen to him and to his people, and continue to treasure the surprise of those moments.

Piper B. Cartland is the pastor of Eagle River Presbyterian Church in Eagle River, Alaska. She and her husband Paul, who works as a database administrator for an internet-based company, have three children. Connor is in his sophomore year in college, Cameron will graduate from high school in June, and Christa is looking forward to being a junior next year and (finally!) the only child at home.

Piper's first career was as a full-time wife and mom as she followed her husband all over the world, courtesy of the US Navy. They learned to love traveling and Italian food and Piper learned to love studying languages. When the Navy sent them to the Seattle area, Piper was able to complete the M. Div. she had begun after finishing college, and eventually God called them to Alaska. Now they can't imagine living anywhere else!