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There’s a big difference between my life as a pastor and my dad’s life as a pastor.  Some days, I lament these differences, because I think it’s much harder to be a female minister than it is to be a male minister.  But today, as I took a beloved congregant who is dying of cancer a prayer shawl that I had knitted, I appreciated the differences.  She wept as I told her all the places in which she had been prayed for:  Minnesota, Tampa, Wilmington, in session meetings, at ball games, at the mall between trying on things… It was a Holy Moment.  For the first time, I appreciated what I as a female had to offer.  There’s a lot to be said for being able to hold the hand of a dying woman, and to weep with her.

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