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About forty-two

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  1. forty-two

    Help with metronome work

    I've thought about having her march to it, or maybe learn the motions for directing it (her theory book helpfully explained it). Because *I'm* not that great about feeling the beat in instrumental music - I've gotten a lot better as I've been doing this for her. And what's helped me is getting my whole body into it - connecting the beat I'm counting with what my body is doing. So far she's been a little too-cool-for-school to throw her body into counting, although she will for playing. She says she can feel the beat in her dance music, and I think a lot of it is that you are explicitly connecting the numbers you are counting with what you are hearing and what you are doing. Also, at least in my dance experience, you repeat everything so much that the count gets burned into your brain. With piano, she doesn't explicitly count unless and until she's made to, when her intuitive rhythm is wrong and needs fixing. Also, in dance the rhythm is set - you hear it the same way every time until you are feeling it in your bones - while in piano you are setting your own rhythm. She is consistent in how she plays, in that she'll settle into a routine - but isn't not a consistent rhythm, she speeds up and slows down. But consistently - she speeds up and slows down in the same places.
  2. My girls play piano, and metronome work is ridiculously hard for my oldest. She has a hard time feeling the beat of her piano pieces in general, and the metronome beat just has no meaning for her - she can't tell the difference between matching the metronome and getting off from the metronome. So far, the only way we've been successful with metronome work is for *me* to learn to feel the beat of her piece and feel the metronome beat, and to sing the piece to the metronome while she tries to match *me*. It works, but I'd like to help her develop the ability to be able to learn to feel the beat herself, for the metronome beat to have meaning to her. Ideas?
  3. Once my kids took off with reading - meaning they could apply their phonics knowledge to decode words they hadn't explicitly learned - basically, that they could read any word in their spoken vocabulary - I did the following: *Started spelling at beginning phonics levels (CVC, blends) *Continued phonics readers, at medium phonics levels (digraphs, second sounds, two syllable words, common suffixes) *In 3rd/4th grade, started advanced phonics - aka learning to decode unfamiliar multi-syllable words. I also started Writing With Ease at that point, as well. Eta: I tend to stop with phonics readers once they have the reading stamina and interest to do 30-45 min of silent reading in non-twaddle books plus they can read aloud smoothly and well.
  4. The only Asimov book I remember having sexual content is The Gods Themselves, but I haven't read everything. I first read the Foundation series in middle school - there might be a few sexual references, but I don't recall anything explicit. Fwiw, while the original Foundation trilogy is more-or-less pre-1954, the rest of the Foundation series was written later - 80s and 90s iirc. Eta: Timothy Zahn is a great author- thoughtful and intriguing while also very clean. I let my kids read his YA series, Dragonback, when they were 10, and I've turned my oldest loose on his adult novels at 12.
  5. forty-two

    I am going to need a whole wardrobe.....GRRRR

    I got by living in northern IL for several years with nothing more than a northern-fall-weight jacket (aka southern winter coat) - I just layered underneath, and layered scarves and such over top. I even made it through the polar vortex super-winter with that jacket. I did it because it took me years to be able to stomach the cost of a proper winter coat, even actually *living* in the north. My first northern winter, I just bought a hat and mittens - wore my hiking boots as winter boots. It was fine. Of winter-y things I later added, wool socks and a scarf had a lot of bang for the buck. (I enjoy my winter boots, and even wear them in the south now (since I have them), but I wouldn't buy them just for a week's trip. I did also enjoy my winter coat once I finally got one, but there's no use for it in the south.) When I went to DC for a school trip, in the Jan/Feb time-frame, they had us scotch guard everything - shoes, jeans, jackets, backpacks - for that very reason. (I didn't even have hiking boots for that trip - just wore scotch-guarded sneakers. It wasn't a problem.)
  6. forty-two

    Article: How Millennials Became The Burnout Generation

    I don't either. But what I've seen and personally experienced goes beyond being "somewhat risk adverse". I mean, the author of the piece described it as "risk management" parenting, but that's not what I've seen and felt. I actually would have said the opposite: that the shift in parenting was from trying to *manage* the risks (as all parents have done, albeit with differing senses of what the risks were and which risks to avoid) to trying to *eliminate* the risks. Increasingly it seems like the safer things get, the more people believe they should be 100% *safe*. "Risk management" implies trade-offs, implies getting risks below a certain threshold (that's low but not zero) - but increasingly, especially when it comes to kids, people argue that low risk just isn't good enough: it should be *zero* risk. Not just that, in a perfect world, it should be that way, but that it is possible to make the real world that way. And since it is both desirable and possible, it ought to be done. It's like, we've made our world so (apparently) safe that danger really and truly feels like an aberration to large swaths of people - we genuinely, at a gut level, see safety and security as the norm. Not just how things ought to be, but how things actually are, or at least how things genuinely can be. That assumption, that insecurity in life isn't a bedrock given but instead is a *solvable* problem - it changes how you approach risk. It turns *managing* risk into *controlling* risk; it turns risk itself from something fundamentally outside human control to something within human control. When risk is viewed as within humanity's control, risk management becomes the science of controlling and eliminating risk. The assumption becomes that, with the right techniques, risk really *is* avoidable. Then "risk adverse" doesn't just mean "playing it safe", but means "putting in the effort to *eliminate* the risk". But what if you *can't* eliminate the risk despite your best efforts? Well, in my experience that's where anxiety comes into play. The knowledge that despite all your precautions, *it still could happen anyway* - that fundamentally, unwanted pain and suffering could absolutely come your way and nothing you do can prevent it entirely - well, that's pretty darn anxiety-provoking. The author describes millennials as the sort of people that deal with that realization by doubling-down on their efforts to prevent it - they simply refuse to (consciously) accept the prospect that there truly are bad things that are both unfixable and unavoidable. I know from personal experience that the inability to handle the prospect of unfixable, unavoidable bad things happening makes a person really fragile in certain ways. And I think that the increasingly widespread assumption that risk can be controlled means that an increasing number of people never learn to handle the prospect of unavoidable, unfixable bad things because fundamentally, they believe that *insecurity is a solvable problem*. Why learn to live life despite the knowledge that unavoidable, unfixable bad things could happen at any moment, when instead you could just *avoid* or *fix* all the bad things? I think the a large part of the article was dealing with the author's realization that, no, sometimes you *can't* just avoid or fix all the bad things - that for too many people, risk is just not controllable. But the author still feels that risk *is* fundamentally controllable by humans, that risk is still fundamentally a solvable problem - but that many people are (unfairly) not reaping the benefits of this. Whereas when I realized that my ability to control risk was a lie, I also rejected the whole idea that risk is controllable by people at all. I pray so much more, now, because I truly realize that *I can't keep unfixable, unavoidable bad things from happening* - and neither can anyone else. It's truly God's hands or no one's. (I think some of the differences in this thread are due to whether people think that assumption, that the world really can be made safe and secure, is true or false. Not whether the world *should* be safe and secure, not whether people can and should work to mitigate - though not eliminate - dangers, but whether people really and truly can eradicate enough problems to make the world safe and secure. If you think it's *true*, that the world *can* be made safe and secure, then you are likely to sympathize with the writer's outrage and anger at having been disillusioned about the safety and security of their world, because you agree with the author that it's a legitimate assumption to hold - the world really *can* work that way. But if you think it's *false*, that insecurity and danger are fundamentally part of the world, that people can only mitigate, never eliminate, that fundamental insecurity and danger - then while you might feel sympathy for the author's outrage at being lied to, it's hard to feel sympathy for their continued assumption that the insecurity they are facing is somehow unique or novel, because that insecurity is just the normal state of being for all the world ever. It's a question of whether the privileged state of feeling the world is fundamentally safe and secure is *true* - and thus is a privilege that should be extended to everyone - or whether that feeling is a *false* sense of safety and security, only possible for people privileged enough to insulate themselves from reality, and thus is a privilege no one should have.)
  7. forty-two

    Marie Kondo Series on Netflix??

    We just moved, and there was a lot of purging involved. It's easy to get rid of stuff that really never had any business being there in the first place, but beloved things you no longer need or use? That's painful. I got the idea independently of MK, but it really helped us to be thankful for the good service it had given us, to explicitly acknowledge our gratitude for the good it had done for us ("it's been a good shirt to you"), and now that it can no longer do good service for us, we're donating it so that it could be a good thing for someone else. It really helped me and my kids let go of things - we weren't "getting rid of it", but were giving a good thing a chance to bless more people. (Or, if it was so worn its life was done, we appreciated that it had served us well, that it had given us a full life's service.) Idk, I'm not terribly touchy-feely, but I've always talked to inanimate objects and felt that worthy things ought to be treated with respect - that I owed it to them to treat them well - that physical things aren't just material only, but that they have an immaterial purpose and nature - that there is a moral quality to inanimate objects. And so being thankful for their service isn't just about feeeeeeeeeelings, but about giving worthy things the respect they objectively deserve. It seems fitting to me, to treat one's possessions with respect and gratitude for the good God gave us through them, and to lessen possessiveness by giving up one's good things so they can go on and do good for others.
  8. forty-two

    Article: How Millennials Became The Burnout Generation

    The author defines millennial as born 1981-1996. I'm right there with her, in that depending on the definition, I could be classed as either a young gen-x'er or as an old millennial. I have a lot more in common with millennial experiences than gen-x, so I tend to include myself in the millennials.
  9. forty-two

    Article: How Millennials Became The Burnout Generation

    I read the whole thing. I'm not sure what I think about it. On the one hand, I'm an older millennial, and I *do* relate to the errand paralysis thing, a lot. While I'm not a fan of the word "adulting", I haven't found a better way to explain the feeling other than "adulting is hard". My millennial sis feels the same way, even though, unlike me, she never went through a "failing at life" period. And ITU what the author is getting at wrt feeling like getting and keeping a good job where you retired at 55 was the norm for the generations before us - idk, financial security really did feel like a thing that naturally and inevitably would come as a result of working hard and succeeding in school. Unlike the author, though, when I realized we would never have the financial security of my parents, I also came to the conclusion that the expectations I formed based on 90s prosperity were just wrong - that the norm *isn't* and never has been "work hard and follow the rules inevitably leads to an easy, prosperous life". That said, I also lost a lot of faith in the "rules" my corner of American society taught me to follow - I do feel like society sold me a false notion of what life is like. I don't trust what American institutions are teaching anymore - I think common notions of the good life and how to achieve it are fundamentally wrong. That's one difference between me and the author: she complains so much about the results of following common notions of the good life - that it promised one thing but delivered the opposite - yet she never seemed to reject those notions of the good life. I mean, most of the essay is about how following those common notions inevitably leads to burnout, about how following the promised route to the good life didn't actually result in achieving the good life, and while she hates the results, she still seems to think that the promised good life really *is* the right goal to aim at, even as she despairs of ever achieving it. She doesn't even really seem to see an alternative to the endless cycle she so deplores. I thought she was bang on with self-care as an industry, as yet one more thing to do instead of a respite from things to do. Also, I thought her observations about the centrality of the optimization of life and how people treat efficiency as the ultimate path to success - even though the empirical results of more efficiency are a decrease, not an increase, in the markers of success - were insightful, though. Made me think of a book on my shelf: "The Cult of Efficiency". I think there's something there about the assumption that life can and should be optimized that makes it hard to do un-optimizable tasks. And I definitely think the whole quest for efficiency kind of closes you off from whole swaths of life. Which is why I'm deliberately trying to disentangle efficiency from my views of the good life. And it's where I get frustrated with her, because for all the systemic aspects of millennial life she describes as contributing to burnout, she still seems to be unquestionably accepting their fundamental validity. But despite how a lot of things in her piece resonate with my experience, I just don't think the core explanation is burnout. For me personally, I tend to attribute it to a combo of anxiety and that stereotypical "special snowflake" fragility. But bringing up anxiety reminds me of something - when she was mentioning burnout symptoms in history, her Ecclesiastes example is something far more than her "too much for too long" burnout. That kind of "world weariness" is more a result of chasing after the *wrong* things for too long. Which, honestly, is what she seemed to be describing to me - the negative effects of chasing after the wrong definition of success for too long. Her take seemed to be the negative effects of chasing after success but never achieving the results which success was supposed to give you (no matter how much you succeeded) - but at what point do you conclude that the impossibility of achieving the good life no matter how much you succeed is because *there's something fundamentally wrong with what you are aiming at*.
  10. All this. Even when I carry a bag (as I often do, to keep books/water/snacks/sweater/meds/journal/etc. with me), I still carry my phone/wallet/keys in my pants pockets: wallet in back right pocket, phone in front left, and keys in front right. (And I touch all my pockets before leaving any building/area, to make sure nothing got left anywhere.) And when I come home, ,y keys go in the key basket and my wallet/phone go next to my monitor on my desk. (I have my phone charger set up right there, too). For solo trips, I don't bother with a bag - just my pockets (if I bring water I just leave it in the car). I just don't wear clothes without good pockets out - I change out of my house clothes into jeans/capris before leaving. (The only exception is church - I put my phone/wallet/keys in their official purse spots then.) My sister never carries a bag - if it doesn't fit in her pockets, she doesn't carry it, ever. And she only carries what she plans to use - even her phone and wallet are deliberately left behind when she doesn't expect to need them. (I, otoh, pretty much don't leave the house for anything ever without my wallet and phone in their respective pockets.) She'll probably need help in figuring out a system, though, whatever it may be. Whether she carries a bag or goes with her pockets, everything will need its official spot, and in addition to always putting things right back in their official home, she might want to work on the habit of never setting down anything, even for just a minute - it's either in its home, or its in her hand.
  11. Can your dd state the definition of a subject, DO, IO, etc.? When I'm working through sentences with dd12 and she doesn't know what a given word is doing, I first ask her to give me the definition of the various choices. Usually she can't - it's not just that she doesn't understand or can't apply the definition, it's that she doesn't actually *know* the definitions in the first place. So I'm adding in an English grammar recitation period to our Latin recitation. If she can state the definition, but is still having problems applying it, then next I'd try to see if she *understands* the definition, what that definition *means* in the real world. (This is where I have problems. I have an intuitive sense of DO/IO in that I can reliably identify them, but I can't really connect the formal definition to my intuitive sense - I can't really *explain* what they mean. IDK if I just need to work through examples till something clicks or what. Seeing them as verb complements, and compare/contrasting them to subject complements, is helping. The idea of a complement *completing* the sense of a verb or subject - that's a definition with some connecting power for me. I also keep thinking there's something in the definitions of subject/object, and the compare/contrast between the two, that would unlock a lot of the meaning, but it hasn't clicked yet.) If she can state the formal definition, and can indicate that she understands said definition, whether by putting it in her own words or by explaining it to you or by giving examples of it, then I think it's just a matter of lots of practice, of walking her through each word/phrase, and asking, "Is it a subject? Does it tell who or what the sentence is about? Is it a DO? Does it receive the action of the verb, does it answer the question what or whom after an action verb? Is it an IO? Does it precede the direct object and tell to whom or for whom the action of the verb is done?" I think learning to understand the definition and learning to apply the definition can kind of intertwine - that applying can build understanding as much as understanding enables application. Sometimes seeing a lot of examples is the best way to flesh out what the definition means. But I do think you need *some* hint of understanding as a base - that when you say, "that thing is a direct object", she has an intuitive sense of what "that thing" is, even if she doesn't really get what the formal definition has to do with her intuitive sense of what it is. Mainly, that at some level, when you say "direct object", she has a glimmer of a clue what you are talking about. (Like, I just told my dd to "put the thing down". First she said, "what thing?" followed quickly by, "Oh, *that* thing." That's what I mean - that when you explain "direct object", she's not stuck at, "what thing?", but instead is with you, "oh, *that* thing".)
  12. This might not be your problem, but *my* problem is that I simply don't know grammar well enough myself. I don't feel the differences in my bones, I don't have enough of an intuitive sense of the *reality* of what's going on, I don't myself really *feel* the reality that a given definition is describing. In short, I myself can't connect the study of grammar to reality terribly well, so I'm unable to do the same for my dd. I have finally understood enough of the point of grammar to grasp the power and potential of grammar study, though, so I do know what I'm aiming at, even if I can't do it at the moment. All those fine grammar distinctions exist because people found it useful to notice those distinctions in dealing with *reality*, and so we find it useful to be able to indicate those distinctions in our language as well, so that we can more accurately describe reality. So the study of grammar isn't just about being able to make distinctions in our use of language, but to learn to make those distinctions in our dealing with reality, as well as to be able to accurately convey those distinctions to others through our use of language. Studying grammar helps one study *reality*; learning to make ever finer grammar distinctions teaches one to make ever finer distinctions in *reality* - and teaches how to explicitly *put those distinctions into words*. And so it means that a huge chunk of learning grammar is learning to understand *what those distinctions mean in the real world*, just like a huge chunk of learning math is learning *what it means to add/sub/mult/div, etc.". That's what keeps both grammar and math from becoming mere rote memorization: learning the *reality* those definitions describe, connecting one's intuitive sense of reality with the formal definitions, learning how to formally describe one's intuitions with accurate words. I kind of ruined English grammar study for my oldest by too much curricula skipping. I took a break, finally figured out the *point* of grammar study, and we are now haphazardly hitting grammar through Latin study. On the plus side, dd12 gets the reason for grammar study now. She's on board now. And the grammar in our Latin studies is helping me fill in some intuitive gaps in my grammar. I'm *feeling* it more, which is at least the foundation of figuring out how to explain it to dd. I'm going to look into the methods and resources HomeAgain and Lori D. talked about - that sounded really great for learning to *feel* what those definitions mean. Keep walking through sentences where you intuitively know the difference, and learn how the formal definition describes that difference, how the formal definition provides the words to say what you already noticed but didn't know how to describe. I think it's fine to take a formal grammar break, though, especially at 5th grade. I'm finding that 7th is a good age for really transitioning from grammar-stage "get a good intuitive sense of reality" to logic-stage "learn to explicitly and formally put that intuitive sense of reality into words". I've noticed this year that we're really moving from "learn about things and how to do things" to "learn *what* those things are and *why* they work as they do". I mean, this year the transition from "just read the thing or do the thing with understanding" to "formally and explicitly *explain* your understanding" really hit in all our core subjects. And formal grammar study for me is really in the "formally and explicitly *explain* your intuitive understanding" camp - "you intuitively know what the sentence means, now it's time to learn how all the words work together to convey that meaning, and how to describe to others how they work together". (I think grammar-stage grammar study is more "learning to explicitly name this intuitive meaning" without necessarily using the formal definition to explicitly *explain* the meaning.) ETA: On subjects where I'm rock-solid, but I keep getting glazed eyes (fractions, I'm looking at you), I start trying to explain it in different ways. I haul out manipulatives, I haul out the whiteboard, I work examples in as many different ways as I can think of. (HomeAgain and Lori D's suggestions sound great for that.) If we don't crack it in about a week or so, then I kind of separate out the trouble area from the rest of the subject. I keep moving on in the subject, to non-trouble areas, so that we aren't just stuck on that one topic. And I also alternate between taking a break from the trouble spot and explicitly working on the trouble spot, separately from the rest of the subject. I bring in other resources and curricula, I read up on better ways to teach it, and generally just keep hacking away, with the occasional break as needed, till we get there.
  13. Even naturally organized people can create unmaintainable organization schemes. (My mom is the most organized person I know, and she definitely has done so plenty of times.) I spent years creating organizational schemes suitable for my ideal self instead of my actual self ;). I used to think that maintaining an organizational scheme was supposed to be effortless - that if only I hit on the *right* organization, then maintaining that organization would be effortless. Yeah, that's just like thinking that the *right* curriculum would make the actual act of hs'ing effortless <lol>. A bad organizational scheme can make being organized hard or impossible, but a good, solid organizational scheme is only one part of being organized. Learning to fit your organization around your actual life, and around the actual people involved, is a skill. Some people pick up that skill more naturally than others, but even the more naturally organized people do have to *learn* it. My middle dd naturally sees order, but when she was first organizing the pantry, she created a beautiful organization that was entirely impractical wrt being able to easily get to things. Learning to be *practical* in one's organization takes some trial and error for most of us. I find that, for me, hitting on a decent organizational scheme takes a fair amount of trial and error - my ability to predict ahead of time how we use things is only so-so. We just moved, so I've been working through my kitchen organization. Like Carol in CA, I try to put my frequently used dishes in easy-to-get-to spots, and my less-frequently used dishes in the hard-to-get spots. But sometimes what I thought was a convenient spot isn't, and some things I use more than I thought. So I notice where my organization breaks down: what things just don't get back into their spots? What things do even *I* tend to leave on the counters to be put away "later"? What cupboards or what sorts of containers tend to turn into disaster areas? I try to pay attention to figure out *what* and *where* the trouble spots are, before the whole organization crumbles. And as I notice trouble areas, I make note of them and if I have a few spare minutes, I'll try to tackle one of them. For us, the plastic container cupboard is one that rapidly hits disaster: there's a lot of differently sized things, any organization is kind of fiddly, and it takes a lot of trial and error to figure out *which* fiddly arrangement is actually more-or-less maintainable. And we're still working out the kinks with pantry arrangement - whenever something is a pain to get to, I either rearrange right then, or make a note of it and after a grocery run just pull everything out and redo. I've redone it three times now, and I think we're finally getting there. Also, I've found that with perennial trouble spots - for us, flat surfaces will inevitably collect things - sometimes it works better to just accept that those spaces need regular "extra" maintainance, and just schedule it in. For example, my oldest dd will simply not put her books away properly on her bookshelf. I've kind of given up on that habit with her for now, and instead am trying to work in a weekly bookshelf-neatening-time. Also, wrt trying to predict and solve organizational problems, there's an organizational school of thought that tries to organize around what people already do, try to fit the organization to the people instead of try to fit the people to the organization. It's been mentioned by pp, things like putting trash cans where people leave their trash, and putting laundry baskets where people drop their laundry. Make the new habit as close to the old habit as possible - it's a lot easier to move your stuff around than to train people to move themselves around.
  14. I'm semi-naturally organized, in that if I'm going to do something, I'm going do it in an organized way - it's *more* effort for me to ignore the impulse toward order. But I don't have a lot of good habits - it's do it organized or do nothing, and too often I just do nothing. My middle is like me, but dh and my oldest just don't *see* order the way I do. Anyway, I'm using the CM habit training method to baby step my way into teaching the kids good habits. One of the core ideas of CM habit training is that you want to train them in the habit of "doing 'x' when 'x' needs doing", not train them in the habit of "doing 'x' when Mom tells you to do 'x'". So, one thing I'm trying to train them to do is to leave their rooms in a certain way when no one's in them (lights off, blinds open if light out/blinds closed if dark, nightlight off, pjs off floor, door all the way open or all the way closed). So when I see they forgot to turn off their nightlight and left their door half-way closed, instead of telling them to come turn off their nightlight and open the door, I call them over and ask them what's wrong with how their room's been left. So they have to look around and figure out the difference between how their room *is* and how it *ought* to be themselves. The idea is that it will help them internalize *how* the room ought to look when they leave it, so that it will start to look wrong to *them* when it's not done (instead of internalize "fix room when Mom says"). That way you are training them to take on the mental load of realizing when things aren't like they ought to be, and responding by fixing them, instead of them always remaining dependent on someone else bearing the mental load. If the kids (or me!) have problems remembering everything in a given checklist, I will write it down, like I do for our school checklist (posting a picture would be like a visual checklist). But so far for things like "where each type of dish goes" or "how rooms ought to be left" or "morning routine", it's just an oral checklist. When I introduce a new checklist, or a new item to a checklist, I use a lot of repetition and informal quizzing. (Like, when we are on our way home from an activity at night, I will spend the last five minutes of the ride listing out the things to do and asking them to repeat it back, until they can all say it without prompting or hesitating.) The few weeks of teaching our new morning routine, when I woke up the kids, I would have them tell me all the steps of the routine before I left them to it (get dressed, do hair, eat breakfast, clear table of b-fast dishes, empty dishwasher). If I notice that something is missed, I ask them to tell me what they missed, instead of me just telling them to go do <whatever>. Then they have to walk through their memory of the steps and figure it out. If they really can't figure it out, I will give hints till they get it, but that's also a sign I need to do more teaching, more repeating of the steps and more informal quizzing. If they just can't remember the steps, then it gets a written/visual checklist, and I tell them to check the checklist.
  15. forty-two

    I kinda want a different church

    <hugs> In my not-so-humble opinion, the associate pastors certainly *ought* to do that. I mean, I get that in a large church the senior pastor simply can't provide pastoral care to all the members - that's why they *have* associate pastors in the first place. But no matter how huge a church is, providing one-on-one pastoral care is a core, fundamental, non-negotiable part of the church's mission. It's one thing to have lay volunteers to *help* with the pastoral load; it's another thing entirely to offload all pastoral care onto lay volunteers - that's just not right. I really loathe the model where the pastors train the volunteers to care for the parishioners, but the pastors don't actually do any of the pastoral care themselves. Parishioners *ought* to care for each other, but that doesn't *replace* pastoral care (just as pastoral care doesn't replace parishioners caring for each other). I recommend asking, though I know it's easier said than done. FWIW, I definitely 100% think it's a totally legit thing to ask - people *ought* to be able to have one-on-one discussions with their pastor. If for whatever reason it doesn't work to ask at your church, then I'd definitely recommend asking at the Lutheran church.
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