FORWARD, HO! . . .

Yesterday, a quorum of 49 NHF congregants voted overwhelmingly (47 to 2!!) to invite PEK to be our pastor, beginning January 1, 2004. He accepted ... and now, we have a pastor.

I should probably be jumping for joy. After all, it has been a really really difficult year and three months for the NHF family. At first, we were sad to see PK go and we drifted aimlessly for a couple of weeks. Then we kicked ourselves in the collective arse and flew into high gear, getting our services together, getting the children's programs moving, recruiting Sunday School teachers, organizing social events, and encouraging previously anonymous members to join in and DO something with us. In fact, socially speaking, my sense is that NHF truly came together as a family, especially the younger, under-40 folks. I certainly know that most of my weekends (and even most of my weeknights) were spent hanging out with these chuckleheads, doing nothing in particular, but enjoying every moment of it.

But even all this fun and sense of self-capability runs its course eventually, and in the late summer/early fall, I felt that our adrenaline had started to peter out. We needed a leader. Not someone to tell us what to do; not someone to dictate to us; not even someone to be a figurehead. We simply needed a pastor to shepherd us as good pastors do, and to teach us as learned pastors do, and to become part of our family as beloved pastors do. And with all the babies being born, we needed someone to love them enough to baptize them. It was a need we had denied, but was itching towards the surface.

And now, after months of searching, interviewing, praying, waiting, wondering ... PEK will be here with us. And it feels weird. As Mrs.G put it, it's like the parents have come home while we were in the middle of a 1.5-year-long house party, and now we have to shape up again. I am a bit anxious: did we as a family make the right decision? Did we all pray long enough and fervently enough? Did we all open our hearts enough to make sure this is what God wants for NHF? Or were we just so desperate for a pastor that when PEK came along, as great and educated and faithful and caring and capable as he seems to be, we just leapt at him like hungry wolves? We'll never know.

We have much work ahead of us. We must increase our financial offerings in order to support PEK. We must budget ourselves carefully. We have to find housing and insurance for PEK. We have to get used to having the same speaker every week. We have to learn to work with a "leader," instead of leading and regulating and directing ourselves. We have to learn to submit to teaching, instead of groping blindly by ourselves. I expect the next year will be just as up-and-down, just as emotionally draining and just as rewarding as this past year was for NHF ... we'll simply have to wait and see.

***

PARTY PEOPLE . . .

Most of my friends and I have no qualms about saying to each other, "Can I come over to your house and play this weekend?" The answer is almost always "of course, and bring your own food" and sometimes "no, but come by the next night." That is why we all get along so well: the normal rules of etiquette don't apply amongst us and we prefer it that way.

In the same vein, three NHF buddies suggested to me that I open my house again for New Year's Eve. Last year's mini-shindig was fun: chill, not that quiet, full of food and drink and a couple of bottles of coquitos, thanks to ML and his wily drink-mixing ways. We played Guesstures, and really, there is no sight like seeing JJ recreate his impression of the clue "Revolving Door" while buzzing off the coquito. Then there was JKA's first foray into the world of Absolut Citron and cranberry juice, after walking into the house at the same time our new fridge was being delivered -- now THAT was a fiasco. And of course, given who we are, the karaoke machine was busted out momentarily. (This year, I predict a mass viewing of cheesy Korean videos ... we'll need ML's coquitos to dull the pain of the extreme cheese oozing from the television set.)

Who knows if the shindig will be recreated at Chez Moi this year -- I'm flattered that folks had a good time last year -- but should arm-twisting be done, I will cry "uncle" immediately. (Saves ME from driving home at 3 in the morning!) Mom will probably have a minor hissy about people traipsing around her "new" home, but I say "new stainless steel appliances were MEANT to be cooked on and $7000 rugs were MEANT to be trod upon!" Heck, once she sees all my friends there, she'll probably insist they all stay over for the traditional mandoo-guk and yut-no-ri the next morning. (Cheech and I always lose massive amounts of bills to my parents, who have NO QUALMS WHATSOEVER about taking money from their children, so you all better watch out ... and bring lots of cash.) In any event, my party people know my home is their home, and they say don't cook, so I say, "Bring your own food!"