Thursday in Houston

Have you lost or misplaced your title?
Is it in your name?
Do you know your VIN number?
Stand in this line.
What's your number?
25!
Anyone below 25?
15!
16!
22!
Stand in this line.
Our number was 29
at 1:30 in the afternoon on this grey, balmy December day.

Government offices are all about waiting your turn.
Stand here.
Show these documents.
Cash or check only.
No exceptions.
No streamlining.
No smiles.
Neeutral colors.
Speak up!

It makes me wish I were better organized
wish I had a better filing system
wish I had not lost the title to the car.

I'll spend hours today cleaning up our mistakes
a lost car title
a cell phone left behind in Kathy
forgotten items from the grocery store
cleaning and recycling that missed pick up.

I have never figured out how to be a grown up.
I don't always know things other people seem to know
about organizing life in an orderly fashion.

I do have other gifts
although it is sometimes difficult to recount them in the midst of my failures.

Uncle Herbert's Funeral

We entered another world to say good-bye to Uncle Herbert.
His funeral was pure Realitos, a dusty ramshackle town near the Mexican border.
We filed into the tiny frame Baptist church nestled beside a grassy parking lot.
The sticker burrs jumped to greet us.
Cousins who had not seen each other in years dished out warm hugs.
Most of the men were in boots and cowboy hats.
They talk country in Realitos -
"ain't" and "cain't" and "they was" with thick Texas twangs.

The elderly soloist charmed us with waves in her voice
as she crooned "It Is Well" to begin the service.
The minister regaled us with wonderful Herbert stories.
Herbert's only child, Lily, tearfully remembered her father
and thanked all of us for coming.
Gary, the long lost cousin, poignantly expressed appreciation
for Herbert's telling him stories of the father he never knew.
Then Herbert's nephew Clark, himself a Baptist preacher,
sang the country western song "Where the Roses never Fade" with his wife.

We sat tightly in the pews
bundled up because of a rare Texas cold front.
We laughed.
We cried.
We hugged and treated each other tenderly.
Herbert would have liked that.
He was always a man of grace and good humor with a profound faith in God.

We stayed close while we huddled at graveside,
then enjoyed a meal of carne guisada and hot fresh tortillas
back at the Baptist church in Hebbronville.

Funerals often bring out the best in families.
Our broken hearts open to one another in ways that don't happen in regular times.
Uncle Herbert would have been pleased I think.
I sensed he would have smiled through that service,
knowing the people he loved the most were in his beloved Baptist church.
Rest in peace, dear Herbert.
We'll all be there soon enough.

Souvenirs

It was a surprise today
rows of vendors
hawking their wares in the halls of the Presbyterian Center in Louisville.
fancy handbags
jewelry of all kinds
Mary Kay cosmetics
books @35% off
It was tempting all right.
I went for the books.

so now this evening
I am remembering the money changers in the Temple.
Was this a similar situation?
Why is shopping so much fun?
and one of my significant vices of late?
Would Jesus drive us all out with a whip?

I think of those who have so little
who are paralyzed about their future
and facing closed doors
those who can never do any shopping
unless it is for absolute essentials.

Maybe something in one of those books will help me help them.
Maybe not.
Maybe buying a little Mary Kay will help that woman pay a bill
and survive for a little while longer.
Maybe not.
She didn't have many takers.
I don't know why some people have so much
and others so little.

But I am grateful for a new Bible
even as I ponder deeper issues.

The Moment I Felt Closest to God

Who would have thought it?
God showed up this morning at the Presbyterian Center in Louisvile
in the form of a sprit filled black choir.
O my!
O my!
We rocked for a little while
and the world opened with possibility.

Veterans Day in Louisville

He stood tall,
towering over the rest of us
who were sitting at white linen covered tables in the hotel ballroom
where we are trying our best
to absorb parliamentary procedure.

"I ask for a point of privelege," he stated.
"In Padukah, Kentucky, it is eleven minutes
before the eleventh hour
of the eleventh day
of the eleventh month of the year.
I would like for us to pause
and to pray for all of those in the armed services."

We paused while he prayed eloquently
for those who serve
and for their families
and with gratitude for all of those who have ever served.

It caught us quite unaware in the meeting,
this surprise
and endearing moment of grace.
Then we quickly resumed our work
into the intricacies of motions
and substitute motions
and knowing when they could be deemed perfected.

Role Playing in Louisville

We spent the afternoon role playing,
the seventy-five of us incoming moderators
who are taking a crash course in Robert's Rules of Order in Louisville.
We took turns acting out a live Presbytery meeting.
The simulation felt real!
microphones
contentious issues
people jumping up to speak.

I was a candidate trying to get ordained.
I embellished my role a little,.
(maybe too much)
blew kisses to the crowd.
waved,
told them I loved them,
gave "semi-satisfactory" answers to the questions.
It brought the house down.
It was good to laugh,
my little personal right brain corner of the day.

Louisville

Right off the airplane you know you're in a different space.
The gift shops are selling barbecue sauce, honey and maple syrup
all packaged to look like whiskey bottles and flasks.
This is after all the home of Kentucky bourbon,
Then there are the statues and pictures of horses lining the walls.
There's an information desk by the baggage turnstiles.
A gentle smiling woman called the hotel shuttle for me.
unusual.
Most places you have to fend for yourself.
Outside easy friendships formed as we waited.

It's easy to spot the Presbyterians here.
We all wear glasses
or most of us anyway.
We're older.
The women are heavier.
We look like librarians.
A lot of the men have beards and or mustaches,
carefully trimmed of course.
nothing too flashy.

the hotel is old but elegant and graceful.
There's a wonderful four poster bed in my bedroom.
The cheese grits for breakfast are to die for.

Day One of this moderator training is parliamentary procedure.
Help me, dear Lord, to stay awake
and learn what I need to learn.
May there be some little corner of this day
that has something fun
and right brain in it.

Bless all my peeps back home.
Keep them safe and smiling.

911 Anniversary

Her face still haunts me
this woman whose face I remember from television nearly ten years ago.
She stood near Ground Zero, New York
before we called it that.
She held a sign
hand lettered, primitive, on poster board
with his name and a picture of her husband's face.
He was lost in the rubble.
We could all witness her anguish
as we munched on popcorn
from the comfort of our living rooms.

We saw the searching eyes
the longing
the heartache
the terror that had begun to leave its footprints on her soul.
It was the beginning of a shattered world for her
and we sat as silent witnesses to the loss of her beloved.

When I see and remember her face now
the brokenness waiting to be born
I think she is a portrait of God -
longing for His lost children
longing for the restoration of relationship
longing for the broken places to be healed and restored
longing for reconciliation and love
and unwilling to face the horror of a lifetime without us.

I see the good Shepherd doing whatever it takes
to find His lost sheep
and bring it safely home.
The way that anguished woman longed for her husband
and did everything she could to find him
is the same way that God longs for each of us
and will not stop
until we are safely home.

May God's great, huge heart
comfort all of those who still grieve losses from that day
and give us courage to live for peace.

10 Things I Know about Beauty (Max prompt)

1. It's really, really hard to maintain physical beauty when you get old and your feet hurt. You look haggard and you feel cranky.

2. Then there's the beauty of the home - also hard to maintain with paper clutter piles and chipped paint on the walls and the leavings from too many exhausted days all strewn together.

3. Take nature. Maybe there's a rustic beauty when weeds have overtaken the land to the point that you cannot walk through the bramble, but it takes a fairly primitive sort to appreciate that.

4. Carefully tended outdoor beauty is actually rather nice - freshly mowed grass, weeded gardens, ponds with trickling water to induce a more relaxed and meditative state.

5. A lot of exterior beauty is hard to maintain - bodies, homes, yards - but so is inner beauty. People aren't just born beautiful in the inside. They have to work at it.

6. The best way to develop inner beauty is first to witness it. You have to see someone who is beautiful on the inside, someone who glows a little, who smiles and shows kindness. That kind of beauty beckons and causes desire to grow within.

7. We can ask for beauty - ask God to grow within us and and help form us that way. But then we have to be ready to act on the guidance we receive that is sometimes painful - like forgiving mean and nasty people who wreck havoc in our lives. Only then do we become beautiful.

8. We must be vigilant in caring for and loving beauty or it quickly slips away.

9. Beauty is the clearest sign we have of God's presence on earth - other than kindness. But kindness is beauty.

10. Grace, love, peace, harmony, goodness, gentleness - all the noble virtues are beautiful.

Awakening

It happened ever so gently.
I closed my eyes in prayer.
The tall bearded monk prayed,
"Fill us with your Holy Spirit."
When I opened my eyes again
I entered a different world.
Nothing has been the same ever since.

Obsessed
Driven
Captured by the love of God
I stuff the gnawing hunger.

God says to me,
"Let it out!"
But how?
My eternal dilemma

Inspiration

I sat in the darkness
alone
and longing
for the presence of God
to come into the quiet.
God touched me gently
and whispered words I needed to hear.

The memory lingers
as I begin this day
waiting
for His touch once again.

Inspiration is an elusive thing.
It enters swiftly
silently
unannounced
then leaves again.

I've learned to keep a notebook handy
to capture those gentle moments of bliss
when I am my beloved's
and He is mine.

Surprising Grace

The pink polish chipped and looked gross.
So I took a long lunch break
and headed for Silver Nails.
A Vietnamese girl
with too many teeth in her friendly smile
began to work in earnest.

Ancient chants floated in the background
above the swirling bath waters.
The music touched my heart
carried me to a different place.

When was it that my heart had turned to stone?
Again?
How did this happen?
and why?

Walking in the Spirit is a gentle process
easily snuffed out
in this world of rigid concrete
and endless words.

But I am grateful for those moments of grace
that sweetly touch my heart
when I least expect it
and beckon me to a higher path.

Coming Home

Deep fried dill pickles on the menu
Corn breaded catfish with hushpuppies
Pickled okra on the buffet
Country music blaring in the knotty pine dining room
HOT outside
It's good to be back in Texas.

The Milwaukee Metaphor

It takes a while to travel with children.
One endures stops and starts
snacks and potty breaks.
By the time we reached Milwaukee coming home from Minneapolis
it was midnight.

We narrowed ourselves to one lane of traffic
snaking our way through road construction.
Suddenly a police car swooped in behind us and stopped
cutting us off from Forrest
and everyone else who was behind us.

We inched our way toward Milwaukee for a while
then sped on
frantically looking for signs
none of which pointed the way to Chicago.
Somewhere around the Milwaukee port
we exited
with Sadie wailing in the back of the van.

no gas station
no restroom in sight
in this neighborhood of small frame houses
asleep until morning.
Sadie tee-teed on someone's front lawn,
then climbed in the car
and fell fast asleep.

We finally found the detour
and with great vigilance
followed the signs
until they led us safely through the maze
and ultimately to home.

Through all the twirling around that dark night
we kept talking to Forrest on the cell phone
until he too finally landed beside us in the garage.

Forrest says this particular adventure
is a metaphor for Emi's life right now.
She's in the throes of a divorce
seeking divine guidance
and signs pointing the way
through the chaos
as we did that balmy night in Milwaukee.

Her life has taken an unexpected detour.
She's in the driver's seat
caring for her crying children
with aging parents in tow.

i think it's a metaphor for me as well
in guiding my church
and preparing for my year as moderator of the Presbytery.
There will be roadblocks
and unexpected detours.
God provides the signs to guide us
and calls us to be vigilant and mindful.
God will also lead us safely home.

In the end,
it's all about faith,
trusting God
enduring the discomfort
and knowing
deeply
that all is well
and all will be well.

Eugene Peterson

It was a first for me
hearing a man talk about his pregnancy.
But this man was no kook.
This was Eugene Peterson,
scholar par excellence
and gentle pastor.

The pregnancy lasted several years he told us
while he was in New York.
He planned to be a professor of Hebrew and Greek,
never thought he would be a pastor.
But he needed the money
and took a job
as an assistant pastor in White Plains, New York.

"While teaching the Revelation of John
I became pregnant," he told us.
"I imagined myself as John, exiled."
Before then pastor had been a flat word.
But John's pastoral identity worked itself into him
because John is the patron saint of pastors.
He began to see that the classroom
was too much excluded
and too tidy.

Weaving in and out of Revelation
he found his call.
"Write what you see," the angel said.
Writer and pastor were the same for John
like right foot and left foot.

Writing became a conversation
with Scripture and his congregation
listening
looking around
edging into his story.

He spoke of paying attention
and prayer
and metaphorically of sitting in the dark
with a flashlight in his teeth.

I was humbled to listen to this man of God
thrilled to learn of his love for John
who has always been my guy.
Now I eagerly await this memoir he writes
as he undergoes yet another pregnancy.

Farewell to the Exhibit Hall

He seemed wistful and a little sad
this Palestininan man
who had traveled to the General Assemblly to set up his wares in the exhibit hall.
Most of his things had been wrapped and carefully packed away when I walked by.
Business was slow in the exhibit hall on wednesday afternoon
everywhere but Cokesbury
where Presbyterians were looking to buy books.
Presbyterians are always looking to buy more books.

The Palestinian was selling gold crosses.
Embedded in them was ancient glass taken from archeological digs in Israel.
They were quite lovely
and at $230 each, a little pricey for my budget.

Presbyterians,
especially the ones who come to General Assembly,
are a frugal lot.
He might have had better luck
with the Episcopalians.

I'm sad to see the exhibit hall close.
Forrest and I would plop ourselves on a park style bench with hot coffee,
and sooner or later,
most everyone we knew here would pass by.

There was great people watching in the exhibit hall
and fresh exposure to interesting organizations.
It was a lovely diversion.

Beside Lake Harriet

The freedom to do something else
It's the best part if being an observer at General Assembly.
Since this is the land of 10,000 lakes
we decided to find one this morning
Lake Harriet
Smack dab near the middle of Minneapolis.
Forrest, Emilie and I sat on benches to read and write.
Emi, Kim, Collin and Sadie took a walk.

My soul needed the green
the water
the quiet
after the slam dunk committee meetings

A chalk scrawled message on the sidewalk told me what I needed to know.
In blue, child like letters beside my wooden bench
it said simply, "God is love."

God is indeed love.
God will help us find our way through the storm.

Kim's observation

Mostly lily white Presbyterians
thousands of us
were curdoned off to watch the fireworks along the Mississippi

On the other side of the ropes
stood and sat people of every creed, color and age
separated
uninvited
not welcomed to join our private party.

We enjoyed the evening
oblivious to all but ourselves.
It was unintentional
but a live metaphor of the American Protestant Church.

God is changing things
stirring us up.
The mountains are trembling.
I'm sticking close to Jesus.

The Mall of America

Huge!
An amusement park four stories tall in its belly
Dora and Jommy Neutron dispensing hugs
Noisy!
My grandchildren's delight.

Voices of Sophia and the Rev. Dr. Christine Smith

It changed her life
shattered her
this trip to Guatemala
that became the root of her call.

Re-imagine what it means to be human
from the eyes of those who are underprivileged.
It is hard and painful work
even for a lesbian feminist like her,
committed to bridge the great human divides.

Now she leads groups to Guatemala and Chiapas, Mexico.
"A mission trip?' they ask her.
Not exactly.
"We receive and receive and receive
until we're so uncomfortable we can't stand it."

Dr.Smith told us to clean up our vocabulary:
"Anytime we describe anyone as "other" or "stranger" we will remain just that to them....Who has the right to do that kind of naming?"

She thinks using the words "margin" and "center" continues a violent paradigm.
"To suggest that someone's identity is in those places is not true, and it is dangerous."

Dr. Smith stretched me, even inspired me
in a room full of people who wore multi-colored stoles
and sang the Sophia blssing.

It was nice.
They didn't seem so wild to me.
Either I am growing more mellow
or they are.

Water, Water Everywhere

It is after all the theme of this General Assembly.
John 7:38 says,
"Out of the believers heart shall flow rivers of living water."
We are bombarded with images of water at the convention center -
big screen projections of waterfalls,
lakes
sea shores.

Water pours from earthen pitchers in worship.
A well marks the entry of the prayer room.
A small fountain trickles inside.

Lovely blue/green "water" banners adorn the worship space
and the area where people walk the labyrinth.
Long banners of flowing water laced through the congregation from four directions during opening worship.

Soon after that we became a cloud of witnesses to General Assembly's first ever baptism.
Commissioners brought water samples from their home state to pour into the baptismal font.

Today we renewed our baptismal vows in worship.
Each of us took a translucent pebble from a plastic cup to remember it,
then told our neighbor, "Believe in your baptism!"
The children's choir sang, "Shall we gather at the river."

I get it.

These images that fill our senses come with a prayer and a responsibility -
to become life giving, living water to the world.

Gradye Parsons Devotional

It was the first time I had ever heard our stated clerk speak. He was succinct and to the point as he dealt with Luke 9:22-25, the Scripture about Jesus being asleeep in the boat. He said, "We're not what we used to be. We don't know who we will be. We are shook up in the storm. Where is your faith?"

His mantra for troubled times is this:
Get in the boat.
Go across the lake.
There will be a storm.
You will not die.

The Prayer Room

The volunteers I asked had no idea where it was.
the information desk sent us one place.
Turned out it had moved to anither.
Inside there are pine trees planted in pots
water trickling in a fountain
art displayed on easels and lining the walls
soft cushions on the floor and a rocking chair.

A quiet space
an easy place to allow God to hold us
and fill our longing souls.

What is it I must see in this experience?
How is God speaking?

Be still.
It is enough for now.

Washing the Feet - Dorothy Clark Brooks

The legs are a little chubby.
There's a wound by the left knee
and a scar on the left calf.
the toes are short,
open,
pointing to the one who serves her.

The outstretched strong hands hold a cloth
an invitation.

Will you allow me to serve you
in this deepkly personal way?

I ponder the question.
It is so much easier for me to serve than to receive.

Yes.

Yes.

Those scarred and wounded, vulnerable places within me
welcome your embrace.

The Stoles

Brightly colored rainbow stoles grab your attention whenever you enter the convention center in Minneapolis. They've been lovingly crocheted and knitted by men and women all over America and sent here. Now they adorn the necks and shoulders of More Light Presbyterians and their allies, a silent witness to the struggle for full inclusion of GLBT and all other persons in this denomination.

The More Light group asked for a thousand stoles for this General Assembly. Instead they received 1500. Now they're available free of charge in the exhibit hall to anyone whio is willing to wear one and show their solidarity.

Breakfast with Phyllis Tickle

The gray haired grandmiother with a kind face pointed us to our new future this morning over cheese souffles and roasted potatoes.
"It's already here," she says.
"The sun rises in the morning whether we care or not."
"By 9-11 it was already fully in place."

"What does it look like?" we wondered.
community instead of membership
radical, Trinitarian obedience
small groups loyal to one another for a season
no institution!
more interested in narrative than dogma.

The faith will grow and expand
but we must drop back and re-configure.
Then we shall find ancient treasures,
like realizing the frame surrounding the portrait of an uncle
is worth a fortune on eBay.

She quoted Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Cabnterbury
and left us with a vision of hope:
"We are here to serve the kingdom of God
and behold!
God is doing a new thing among us.

opening worship at the general assembly

It wasn't too hard to find the worship space.
Bagpipes heralded the location
here in Minneapolis at the sprawling, sparkling convention center.
Inside, a giant, feathery eagle danced and moved among us
gracefully blessing the crowd
and joining the praise to
"All Creatures of our God and King."
Dancing girls, paper mache animals and streamers threaded their way
down the aisles, and our our voices thundered the great hymn.

We sang and heard all manner of music this morning
a little something for everyone.
Our outgoing moderator challenged us
to come up with different ways of being community
besides one size fits all,and
besides the American political democracy system when it comes to discerning the voice of God.
We are old, he told us.
no surprise there.
but we have a responsibility to the people who are not in church.

Military chaplains got a standing ovation.
A massive choir of more than 300 voices in multi-colored robes
brought us to stillness with a tender anthem before the sermon.
Communion included salted rice crackers
for those who abstain from wheat.

A baby girl in a lovely silken dress was baptized,
a first ever event at General Assembly.

big screens, varied colored spotlights,ethnic touches,thousands of Presbyterians
alternated between moments of exhilaration and tediousness
it is our way after all.

One speaker prayed that a stream would flow out of here to nourish the church and the world.
May it be so, Lord. May it be so.

Getting Ready for the General Assembly

so much swirling within me
what to pack!
what to finish on the front end
the house!
It's a mess!
when to clean and do my chores and go to work?

I am Martha today
distracted by many things

Jesus says, "Focus on the one thing!"
So what is it?

"Let me love you," he whispers.
"Sink a little deeper into that.
Breathe.
Be filled.
Seek what is truly important
my very presence within you.
All is well and all will be well.
Hold onto that
one step at a time."

first news interview - Max

It was black and silver and heavier than I thought it would be. I could not remember ever holding a microphone in my hand. Now I had to shove it at just the right angle toward someone's face. I was both thrilled and terrified.

"Go interview Jim McConn," the assignment editor had told me. "Don't be shy!"

And so I went.

He was giving a speech at a luncheon in a downtown Houston hotel. I waited outside the room until I heard the applause, signifying the speech was over. My heart raced within me. I went to the door, poised for my question. He was wearing a grey business suit with a gaudy orange tie. His medium brown hair was heavily sprayed. I nervously held out the microphone.

"Mr. Pecan," I said, then realized it was a huge gaffe.

Jim McConn said to me, People will think I'm some kind of nut."

It was my first interview on my first day as a news reporter, and I called our future mayor a pecan.

Tyler's Summer Job

He sits in place
with the iphone wedged between his knees
this world class
singer
composer
conductor extraordinaire
incognito this season
as he sells water heaters
to an unsuspecting world.

At some point the door will open for him.
He will walk through it
happy, grateful and thrilled
to be flush on his own for the first time.

But oh!
the stories to be told
between now and then
will keep us all enthralled.

Emilie

A little girl
A feisty, perky, red-haired girl
stretched out
buck naked
for loving family members to welcome her
and embrace her
and label her their very own.
The holiness of that moment!
The wonder!
The deep seated joy!
The privilege to stand as witness
to God's magnificent creativity.

We cradled her and loved her
and offered her back to the God of love
that her life might bless the world
even as she was now blessing us.

Today she turns sixteen.
She still has red hair, now shiny and sleek
a beautiful smile
curves to fill out her tight jeans
and a good mind excelling in school.

May God always hold her close
and guide her gently to her call.