theta street

Advent

2011-12-01T06:03:00.000-08:00

Fall finally comes
signaling the branches that it is time to let go.
They detach easily
gently
gracefully
preparing themselves for God's new season.
God asks me where I too must let go
to prepare for the next season of life.

Repentance doesn't involve remorse and wailing usually.
It can be gently shedding all that prevents
God's new thing from being born.

I ponder fall's lesson from the trees
as I prepare my heart for the coming of the Christ child.

The Statue

2011-09-02T05:39:00.000-07:00

He stands there
offering his hand in blessing
with rays of love and light streaming from his heart.
Mostly I ignore him
so eager am I to begin my day.

Too much of my life is spent on auto pilot
crossing tasks off my to do list
daydreaming
lolly gagging (my favorite!)
thinking, thinking
fretting.

Jesus stands there in the midst of it
mouthing the words
Come to me, you who are harried and helpless.
Come to me.
Receive my blessing.
Receive my strength.
I drive by mindlessly
my head filled with all manner of things.

How often I ignore God's presence surrounding me
beckoning me
offering help
speaking words of wisdom and blessing.
I am so caught up in the need to be productive
and relevant
that I forget to notice.

This week was different.
I saw him standing there, all 10 feet of him.
I received the blessing.
I think it helped.
I blew kisses as I headed south into my day.

The New Med

2011-07-19T10:59:00.000-07:00

Sometimes in the night my legs get restless and want to dance.
No! I scream inside myself
I'm tired!
Let's just go to sleep!
But they keep up their begging
relentlessly
until I am finally out of bed and on my feet.

It's annoying
really annoying
to go through life without much sleep.
It causes all manner of poor behavior the next day.

So yesterday I discussed this with my pretty teenaged doctor
or she looks like a teenager anyway.
Take a pill, she said.
It will make a difference.
She wrote out a prescription.

It made a difference all right!
Nausea
crippling fatigue
insomnia
drowsiness going on for 17 hours now.

Why is the cure worse than the disease?
I'd rather be dancing through the night.

My Sabbath Day

2011-05-19T09:54:00.000-07:00

relaxed
lazy
limp
riding the waves
carried gently away
far from the shore
floating
weightless
held by a force greater than I

I am content
not to think
or plan
or worry
just to be today
as I am
in all my glorious sloth.

I am open
ready to receive
whatever you have for me.

Blow gently, my love
lest I topple over.

10A and My Church

2011-05-16T06:37:00.001-07:00

I was used to the pastor meetings on the subject of gay ordination
quiet, calm, respectful.
so I brought the issue to my church.

There's a difference between dialogue and debate.
Debate seeks to persuade another.
It's closed to other opinions.
It's more interested in championing a point of view.

Dialogue involves listening to another.
It seeks to understand
and to find common ground.

I thought we would have a dialogue last Wednesday night.
I was wrong.
Gay ordination is a subject of debate in my little congregation.
Some people may leave the PCUSA over it.
Here's why they tell me:

We've strayed too far from the clear mandates of Scripture.
From now on General Assembly will force this down our throats.
There's no such thing as a monogamous gay.
We are encouraging sexual experimentation.

My son is gay, an elder told us.
He is the kindest, most gentle man you will ever meet.
He would make a fine elder.
And from others -
Every gay person I have ever known is kind and loving.
There is no difference. We are all God's children.
My gay friends are too scared to come to church.
A gay minister has spoken in this church and been well received
even though no one knew he was gay.

We are not of one mind on this issue.
We are divided within our congregation
as we are within the Presbytery
as we are within the entire PCUSA.

It's time to breathe
really breathe
the life giving flow of the Holy Spirit.
We dare not move forward
wherever forward is
without taking deep breaths
really deep breaths.

In life and in death we belong to God
In our struggles and fights we belong to God.
In our good times and tension filled times
God will never let us go.
I cling to that
as I take another deep breath.

Visual Prayer for Mother's Day

2011-05-07T08:00:00.000-07:00

This morning I held my two little creations before me.
They are both visual prayers
cut from black card stock
and magazines.
One is liturgical
all purple with bright yellow spashes
a prayer for Easter to bloom in my heart.

The other is the bliss of mother love
mutual love
between a mother tiger and her cub.

missing my mom today
missing my son and daughter
and the times we held each other close.

asking God to hold me today
in strong mother love
and Easter joy
as we birth
yet another sermon.

Easter Memories

2011-04-25T05:46:00.001-07:00

I awakened this morning with gratitude
full and blessed
to be a part of this wonderful world
in love with Christ
and all the people in it.

I always worry a little on Good Friday.
That day is dark
lifeless.
Depression stalks me.
The grief becomes overwhelming
every
single
year.
I birth an Easter sermon
in the midst of the gloom.

It is hard to write about Easter joy
when I am still in the tomb with Jesus.
I fret.
I judge myself harshly.
I worry.
And then along comes Easter morning.

When we drove into the parking lot
surprise lilies lined the pathway to church.
One bloomed in an old tree stump
and a white cross proclaimed
"He Is Risen!"
for all the world to see.

Inside came all the flowers
along with the great Easter hymns
as we filled the cross and the pews.
People who normally can't or don't come
made an effort to be here.
Extended families sat together.
There were lots of babies.

We sang.
I preached.
Tyler sang with the big voice.
God was glorified
and my spirit came alive again.

And now today
this first new day after Easter
I am grateful
profoundly grateful
and the world seems alive with possibility
as I tackle my cluttered house.

What a differnce a day makes!
May Easter hope arise within us all
and may our lives trumpet fresh new life.

Lazarus

2011-04-16T07:06:00.001-07:00

dark
lonely
flat
despairing
and then suddenly
a seed within me
begins to grow.

i turn.
the warmth of the light
beckons me.
the seed is hope.
i feel it rising within.
its beauty permeates my hardened crust.

possibility and light
compassion and grace
lure me forward.

i stand
bound and vulnerable
as the community
loosens my graveclothes.

i enter the joy of easter
again
and again
and reach to share it with others.

Jesus Feeding the 5000

2011-04-16T07:02:00.000-07:00

hungry people
no McDonald's in sight.
give them something to eat.
what?
with what?
i am small
inadequate for such a hard task.

give them something to eat.
i can't.
it's not about you.
it's about me.

can you trust?
can you dare to step forward?
can you try?
can you depend upon me and not yourself for once?
will you?

you cannot control me
or anything else.
you need only let go
of fear
embarrassment
and shame.
stand tall as my vessel
and see the glory of God.

ok.
I surrender.
again.
it's in your hands.
can we start with the sermon?

My retreat word - gratitude

2011-04-10T19:00:00.000-07:00

Never enough is often my mantra
not enough intelligence
or beauty
creativity
or of what it takes to be a leader.
never enough.
Whatever it is,
it is never enough
when it applies to myself anyway.

So here comes this reminder
neatly typed on a little yellow card.
What if I exchanged the phrase "not enough"
for grateful?
grateful I am as smart as I am
grateful I have a sort of beauty
grateful for my creativity
grateful that I am a leader and that others see that in me.
I am enough for whatever comes my way
and for that I am grateful.

Somehow,
writing that,
I feel better about myself -
grateful to be who I am,
where I am at this period of my life.

Gratitude opens up possibility.
Not enough shuts it all down.
I choose to move to the open space.
That you, God, for the insight.
Gratitude is akin to wonder.

The New Labyrinth

2011-04-10T18:26:00.000-07:00

I sat on the bench with my sunflower mug
drinking coffee at the dawn of the day.
Friom a distance Sydney spotted me -
Sydney, the Australian sheep dog that lives at our farm.
She came bounding through the grass and trees to greet me.

Dogs have always been a God symbol for me
reminding me of God's unconditional love.
When people fail me,
dogs never do.

So here comes Sydney
like the father in the prodigal son story in the Bible
prancing
dancing
smiling in her way
running and
THRILLED to see me in the early part of this Saturday morning.

We walk the labyrinth together
this God symbol and me.
She's right beside me.
I am never far from her.
Sometimes she lies on the path and forces me to deal with her
then she's off and running
sometimes ahead
sometimes beside
sometimes wallowing on her back in delight
that I have included her in what feels like play.

What a lovely reminder of God's presence this morning
the God who runs to greet me
and delights to walk beside me.

Sydney is off to other things now
inviting me to join her in joy somewhere else.

I linger
savoring the delight we shared
and looking forward to this brand new day.

Don't take yourself so seriously, God whispers.
Lighten up.
Prance a little.
Come play with me.

overworked

2011-04-01T13:02:00.000-07:00

I've been a little whiny lately
overwhelmed
burned out
sleep deprived
carrying the world on my shoulders.
again.

Wednesday I met a man on an airplane.
He was Catholic.
Roman Catholic.
His priest works hard he says.
too hard.
mass every morning of the week
mass on Saturday night
four masses on Sunday
funerals
weddings
baptisms
first communions
et cetera
et cetera
for thousands of people!

Ye gads!

My little call pales in comparison.
moving into gratitude now
at long last.

A Kairos Moment

2011-02-02T07:15:00.000-08:00

At first I thought her an angel standing there
drop dead gorgeous
filled with light
radiant
smiling
like one of our American Olympic athletes.

She was bundled up.
It was freezing after all
the coldest night of the year.
The plants surrounding us had all been bedded down for the frigid night.

She brought Wednesday's supply of Victory Meals for Forrest and me.
It was far out of her way to do that
and after hours
since it was eight o'clock at night.
She came because of my mixup,
not hers.

I told her that nutrition guru Joan Ifland had saved my life.
Hers too apparently.
There, with our breath visible in the cold night air
she told me of her lifelong problem with severe allergies.
She was used to lots of medications
painful injections
a lifetime of feeling bad.

Now she's off all meds
feeling great
losing weight
a living testimony to the healing power of God's natural, unrefined food.

Part of the blessing of this Christian life is just these kairos moments
times when God sends an angel to help us on our path.
She brought practical help for me.
I will be able to stay on plan in a mine field of toxins today.
But she gave me something more -
a glimpse of our gracious God
who will go to any length to help us when we cry out
who gives us hope for the journey
who lovingly accompanies us on our path through life.
Truly we are surrounded by angels.
My heart overflows.

Thursday in Houston

2010-12-30T18:31:00.000-08:00

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

2010-12-09T08:46:00.001-08:00

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

2010-11-12T14:51:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-12T14:48:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-11T17:59:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-11T17:43:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-11T05:17:00.000-08:00

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

2010-09-11T06:19:00.000-07:00

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)

2010-09-11T06:06:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-30T06:10:00.001-07:00

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

2010-07-30T06:06:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-29T06:40:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-15T07:46:00.001-07:00

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

2010-07-11T09:00:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-11T06:56:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-08T08:41:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-07T15:11:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-07T06:37:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-07T06:33:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-06T13:26:00.001-07:00

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

2010-07-06T13:11:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-06T03:29:00.001-07:00

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

2010-07-05T18:29:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-05T18:24:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-05T18:16:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-05T17:56:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-04T12:02:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-29T05:52:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-28T05:39:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-27T11:51:00.001-07:00

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

2010-01-20T05:27:00.000-08:00

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.

The Nail Salon

2009-10-02T08:06:00.000-07:00

Vietnamese women chattering
carts with hot sudsy water going clackety clack on the porcelain tile
elegant matrons with their jewels in a pile
awaiting the quick procedures
to make everything beautiful on the outside
while ignoring the inside

I wish there were a salon where I could go
and a gentle woman with a sudsy cart would clean my inside,
trim away the dead places
smooth the chipped and broken edges
and paint my heart a pretty, shiny color.

Jury Duty

2009-09-23T05:22:00.000-07:00

Assembled in six lines of six people each
we waited outside the courtroom.
All rise! the bailiff bellowed
and we filed in single file.

Identity theft!
This was a case of identity theft
involving bank fraud
conspiracy
and two black women.
Fury arose within me
remembering Ron
and the 22 charge accounts his caregiver opened in his name.

I looked at those two women
and a part of me turned to steel.
I was freshly outraged on Ron's behalf.

I realized I was too emotional to serve on this jury panel.
I finally told the judge.
It was no surprise when they passed over me
and the three white men who sat with me.

I don't consider myself a racist.
I voted for Obama.
But something about those two black women
triggered racism within me
and I was out for blood.

I'm not sure what to do with this
or where to go with it.
I can only lift my woundedness to God
and pray for God's healing mercy.

Metro Rail Ride

2009-09-21T16:55:00.000-07:00

She was headed to Sears, she told me,
This blonde haired woman with thick black eye liner lining her mouth.
She had highlighted her eyes and eyebrows with it too
and filled in her lips with a pale color of pink rimmed with lime green.
I tried not to stare at her bizarre mouth as we talked.
She was bundled in a long sleeved sweat suit jacket zipped tightly around her neck,
and that was topped with another jacket.
She wore white suede boots with fluffy, fake fur tops over her tight jeans
and her breath smelled of alcohol.
Sears was having an 85% sale on their summer things she told me,
an event not to be missed.
I wondered what she would do with them since she was snuggly wrapped for winter
and it was 93 degrees outside.

It was my first ever Metro rail ride in Houston.
I was proud of myself for figuring out how to do it.
The crowd I traveled with this afternoon was surely different from my own tribe.
"You've become enmeshed again, Pat" I told myself.
"You think all people are like the ones at St. Stephen.
Open your eyes. Branch out a little."

My New Collage

2009-09-11T06:34:00.000-07:00

A lovely, innocent teenaged girl looks up
full of wonder,
dreaming of possibilities,
and a brand new world opening before her
as she trusts the path to unfold.
Her grandmother above looks at her and smiles at the way she is growing.
To the side, an assertive powerful woman stands tall, ready to protect her.
Danielle Steel is vigilant at her feet,
poised to confront anyone who would try to destroy what God is doing.
The whimsical cat wonders if she can play today.

Drought

2009-06-23T05:19:00.000-07:00

Parched
Not enough
Scarcity
The sky is falling!
Panic!

May the living water flow into every crack and crevice
bringing life
abundance
hope
and the living presence of Christ.

The Accuser

2009-06-13T06:13:00.000-07:00

It comes so easily,
Inferior!
Not as good as
Trite!
Boring!
The voice hammers on.
Who are you to think you're a writer?
Get off your ass and do something meaningful for a change!
You're washed up
a has been.
No one cares what you write about
not even God.
Give it up.
It's a waste of time.

The Answer with the Non-dominant Hand

It's what I love.
It's what I am called to do.
It's what brings me life.
I don't really care what you think about it.
Leave me alone.

Mary

2009-06-03T05:23:00.000-07:00

She teared up when she saw me.
She couldn't talk.
She could only writhe in pain.
How did this happen
to this woman my age?
We walked together in the park and laughed
as we spoke of family, church and God.
Now she lies silent
except for the grimaces of pain that cross her face.

I could only watch quietly
and love her through my tears.
I am powerless to help her
or to do anything to alleviate her aching heart and body.

I pray for Mary
for the peace of Christ to fill her
for God's healing mercies and tenderness to enfold her
for courage and strength to make it through the final part of her journey.

I shall never understand why we have to suffer so.
But Jesus suffered
and out of that terror
came life for all the rest of us.

I don't know how God will use Mary's torment.
We can only offer it to God,
sense God's tears merging with our own,
and know that we are all held together in God's loving kindness
as we anticipate the time of freedom.

Our 44th Wedding Anniversary

2009-06-01T05:22:00.000-07:00

We've weathered so many storms together
war
miscarriage
job loss and financial strees
the decline and death of his parents
cancer, kidney stones and heart stints.

But there have been such incredible joys for me -
the feeling of safety whenever he is around
two fabulous children
and three bright and beautiful grandchildren
stability
a shared faith
wonderful trips
a house, a farm and a condo
everything we ever wanted really
God's rich blessing on our life together
his ability to fix anything
and to care so deeply for me.

He pushed me to seminary
drives me to church
listens to my sermons again and again,
often tearing up and always praising them.

He is there for me whenever and however I need him
holding me in his strong arms
blessing me
solving my logistical problems
doing the laundry, the dishes and the food preparation
and staying positive through all of it.

I never met another man I thought I could live with.
I am the center of his life, and I always have been.
He listens to me
and encourages me
and this has been going on for 44 years today.

I love him so.
I always will.
He is my one great true love.

I know our remaining years are numbered.
We've both slowed down.
Little things nip at our heels
fatigue for me
insomnia for him
aches and pains
our great love of food and its devastating effects in our lives

How long do we have together?
10 years?
20?
I pray that we make it to 50.
I pray God remains at the center of our lives.
I pray that we continue to love and care for one another
and enjoy our family.
I pray that one day we can retire without having to live in bare survival mode
hand to mouth.
I pray that our life together be one of service and creativity to the end
that others will be warmed by the Christ light
that brought us together in the first place
and has kept us together for 44 years.

Welcome home

2009-05-29T12:21:00.000-07:00

I stood before a uniformed customs agent in Atlanta.
What was the purpose of your trip?
It was a writer's journey.
That's a new one.
What did you do?

We saw the sites and wrote about them.
I filled a notebook full of Prague.
It was really wonderful.

How interesting!
I've never heard that.
Did you bring any fruits or vegetables home with you?
No.
Did you bring any alchohol?
No.
Did you have anything to do with livestock while you were there?
No.
Welcome home!

And so it ended, this eleven day adventure to another world.
The fragrance lingers and has planted itself in my soul.
Today I am filled with gratitude for my traveling companions,
Max, Marcia, Susan, Nancy and Val.
May God guide the rest of their journey
and bring them safely home.

\wednesdaz in prague

2009-05-27T02:51:00.000-07:00

friyyz hair
problems bathing
mz cluttered room
are all profoundlz insignificant
as I face the evil of \terrayin.

The same people that fashioned the beautz of Prague
and labored a thousand zears to build a cathedral to the glorz of God
were either complacent
or partners to her great shame.
Prague shows us human depravitz at its worst
and human divinitz in its flowering
like all of us.
Old \calvin got it right.

\the morning after

2009-05-27T02:50:00.000-07:00

Mz bodz lies flat todaz.
\grief overwhelms me.
\the now silent suffering of people long gone
rises from the earth
and fells mz tender heart.

terrayin

2009-05-27T02:47:00.000-07:00

I went to hell todaz.
\the streets were paved with crueltz.
The walls were lined with silence.

I cried twice todaz in terrayin
once when I read a child§s poem
and again when I saw peonies blooming in the prison zard.

the jewish cemeterz

2009-05-27T02:44:00.000-07:00

ancient headstones scattered all cattzwampus on the ground
as though thez are competing with one another to tell their storz.
these people lived.
thez died.
thez passed on the lessons fo faith.
thez are still a communitz in death.
god§s people gathered here
the wisdom of the ages
lazer upon lazer
present with us and readz to pass it on
if we will listen and learn its lessons.

The Pinkas \sznagogue

2009-05-27T02:41:00.000-07:00

what would these names of the dead tell us if thez came to life_
\what could we saz to them_
\we could onlz stand and weep
arm in arm
heart to heart
soul to soul
and grasp the outstretched hand of God.

the least favorite part of mz daz

2009-05-25T22:17:00.000-07:00

I lower mz chubbz bodz into the deep cavern
and put mz head under the barelz hot water.
I lather it up with shampoo and rinse,
then soap mz bodz up to remove zesterdaz§s sweat and stench.
\verz carefullz I rmove the handle from the side of the wall
and lift the bulb on top of the spout.
I cringe as ice water covers mz bodz.
Nervouslz, because I§ve had accidents
and because mz roommate§s entire wardrobe hangs above mz head,
I guide the wand to mz soapz locks and bodz.
\bz now the water is warm and refreshing.
Push the bulb down,
\replace the dripping wand,
\get on mz knees and verz graduallz exit this experience.
Another \Cyech daz is born.

historz lesson

2009-05-25T09:50:00.000-07:00

Peter \svobodnz, \cyech historian, alwazs begins his classes this waz"

Mz grandmother was born in \austria
Mz mother was born in \germanz.
I was born in \cyechoslovakia.
Mz eldest daughter was born in the \cyechoslovak socialist republic.
mz zoungest daughter was born in the cyech republic.
we were all born in the same hospital in prague.

with all these armies coming and going through the centuries it is easz to see whz the arts prevailed so stronglz in this place. the arts are what gave people hope and courage through so manz changes.

there are more theaters in prague than there are in new zork citz = than anz other citz in the world I think although I am not positive about that one.

Memorial \daz

2009-05-25T09:37:00.000-07:00

zesterdaz we stood in king wenceslas square and looked at all the colorful and varied buildings that lined the street. max told us to imagine the life of someone in one of the buildings and write their storz. I came up with this one.

Soon he shall come, mz husband, home at last from the war. I am here waiting. It is the sweet time, the time when I can imagine the loving things wqe shall saz to one another. I dream of his caress and the waz he will look at me from across the room.

\does he have the same kind of longing within him that I feel_
How has the war changed him_
He§s probablz not heavz anzmore. I imagine his muscles will be great and strong now, bulging beneath his fair skin.
Will he still have that mane of blonde hair_ Or will thez have cut it all off_
I am grateful it will be just the two of us = free to focus on and love one another without all those other people in the house, without all the well wishers, without so manz chores.

I§ve brought his favorite pipe and the cookies he alwazs loved. I§ve bought the blue plaid shirt and the brown trousers he wore the last time we walked together in the afternoon. I hope he notices that mz hair is different and longer now. I hope his ezes still twinkle. I hope he is still soft and tender on the inside, and that hard places have not formed there because of what he has seen and experienced.

\war can be a terrible thing. It can ravage hearts and lives. I praz that it doesn§t destroz us = that our bond can withstand whatever crueltz comes against us.

A \different Kind of \travel

2009-05-24T01:57:00.000-07:00

\thursdaz we stood outsidee the dark foreboding walls of \st. \vitas \cathedral.
in long lines
of hundreds of people.
heavz mesh wire veiled the stained glass.
zears of pollution has dirtied this structure in the thousand zears it took to build it.
once inside our spirits immediatelz soared upward
giving full and rich meaning to the word awesome.
we were indeed filled with awe, pho=bee=ah in the \greek
a profound reverence.

\tour guides in manz different languages
were telling their groups all the facts of this place
who built it
how thez did it
facts and information piled on top of more facts and information.

mz little group was told to wander around on our own for a while,
then write a love letter to whomever we felt led to write to.
some wrote to the cathedral
others to Marz
I wrote to the wounded Jesus being received into his father§s arms,
the xcene in stained glass ovewr the altar.

Max sazs we§re not readz to learn the factual historz of Prague
until Prague has become our personal historz.
that§s what we§re doing here =
embedding Prague into our artists§ souls
and allowing her to have her waz with us.

\this trip will change me.
I§m not sure zet of the wazs.
One thing I know for sure!
I will never again travel anz other waz.

the King's Hall

2009-05-22T05:39:00.000-07:00

Writing Prompt: Describe this room by using body parts.

The dancers take their place in the darkness.
The violins are poised and ready for action.
Then as light unfolds individual ballerinas do pirouettes,
their slim bodies with arms held high above their heads form perfect vertical lines.
As the music changes, their bodies become graceful arches,
their arms and hands reaching the distance to one another
until finally they are all connected on the ceiling to form a living flower.
The beauty of their dance lingers for centuries.

Prague

2009-05-22T05:34:00.000-07:00

The Challenges of Being in Prague:
1. computers and nearly all of facebook are in Czech and require getting used to.
2. Bathing
3. Sleep deprivation
4. warm weather when I packed for chilly
5. 12-15 hour days, most of which is vigorous walking
6. frizzy hair again - flat iron won't work

The Blessings of Being in Prague:
1. The arts define this city more than any other city on the planet.
2. old world charm and beauty
3. prfoundly spiritual
4. Max handles all logistics
5. the daily writing class and new friends

Near the Charles Bridge

2009-05-22T05:23:00.000-07:00

Last evening standing at the edge of the Charles Bridge Max pointed to a wall with scratches on it, some of them deep, and asked us to imagine how they got there. Somewhere deep within me I felt a terrible fear, a fear so overwhelming I didn't want to near it. I could hear within me desperate, blood curdling, primal screams that had once happened there. It was much easier to focus instead on the Lorraine cross above the river and make my wish for the future, that God's peace would rest here.

This afternoon I sat by the edge of Uvoz Street, catching my breath before journeying further up the hill. A car drove by on the ancient cobblestones, but instead of a car I heard the strong forceful sound of horses hooves, lots of them, as though they were part of an army. I felt the same fear I had experienced the evening before beside the Charles Bridge.

Simultaneously church bells began to toll, ringing out from the top of that hill that good trumps evil, that hope can be born in the most dire of curcumstances, that in all the dark and scary places of our lives, God can and will enter if we will allow it.

In the middle of that raw fear I felt the presence of God powerfully in this place. singing the joyful news that truth, beauty, goodness and love and all other noble virtues can never be conqueroed. Though they may be hidden for a time, grace will always rise again.

In some ways I regret knowing so little of Prague and what happened here. But what I can know is that people in this place have sufered immense cruelites. They have been brutalized and ravaged who knows how many times. But God is and has been within this city. The spires of churches everywhere point to heaven, and the creativity on every building, drainage grate and door points to the refusal of these people to live without hope. In the beauty and loveliness of this place the grace of God that has been here for centuries lives on and flows even today like the great river in its center.

Pilgrimage Prayer

2009-05-13T08:28:00.000-07:00

A pilgrimage is a sacred journey to a sacred site.
Muslims go to Mecca.
Hindus and Buddhists run off to India.
Jews go to Jerusalem.
So do Christians.
But they go other places too
like Iona
or Snowmass
or Rome
or Assissi,
all the places where the air is thin
where there is only a small distance between humans and the divine.

But Prague?
What's in Prague?
some ancient buildings
a river
statues of John Hus and Good King Wenceslas
But what else?
I know nothing of the city or what awaits me there.
I don't know what to hope for.
I know only that God has called me to this place
with this small group of people who will gather there.
We are strangers now.
I hope it doesn't stay that way.
I pray deep friendships will form,
that we shall write well of our experiences
and that our hearts and lives will be open to wonder and to one another.

I'm reminded of an image last year at El Rocio.
I shaped a bowl out of clay.
I added more and more water to it until it was as smooth as glass.
I was an open bowl waiting to be filled.
the rough edges were gone.

I think that's my prayer upon entering this journey
openness
trust that I shall be filled with presence of God however it comes to me
and that the rough edges will be as smooth as glass.

Anniversary Weekend

2009-05-01T07:11:00.000-07:00

The call came early
around 6:30 AM on a Sunday morning before church.
Sylvia's voice was on the other end
I think.
So much has become blurry in this year.
Ron passed away a little while ago.
That's all I remember now of the announcement.
As Ron's friend Ginny heralded the beginning of our friendship
so an impersonal voice on the telephone heralded its end.

Quickly I dressed and drove my tearful self to Pearland.
He was dead all right
lying in his bed hugging his pillow
as I had seen him so often
but the despair was gone.
All darkness had vanished.
On his face was the touch of unmistakable glory.
It was peace, deep and full and overflowing.
He was radiant,
more radiant than I had ever seen anybody anywhere
and I knew at that moment
that he had finally discovered for himself that God is love,
profound, abundant, glorious love.
He had sought love earnestly his entire life
and now it finally had grasped him.

There were tears in my eyes then for his passing from my life
but also for joy that he had finally come into the peace and love
that had eluded him on earth.

Days later I sat with him alone in a funeral parlor.
He was still bathed in peace and love
despite all the probing and testing that had happened in the morgue.

If the Bible were not true
If I had never been to church
If I had never heard of the Christian faith
I still would believe in a loving, merciful God
because of God's beauty filling my friend's face.

I shall always be grateful for those moments of intimacy in death
when God confirmed to me the majesty of His love and grace.

The IRS Ring

2009-04-15T14:54:00.000-07:00

It smiled at me today from my bedside table -
a little diamond ring placed there before I fell asleep.
In the dim light and through my unfocused eyes
it could have been an insect
or a tiny wad of paper
but then its form grew clearer and drew a smile from me -
14 tiny diamonds forming a flower
that sparkles and shimmers in the light.

Long ago a young pretty woman wore it,
thinking she would marry the man who gave it to her,
the man of her dreams.
Something happened within her
that told her she was making a mistake.
I don't know what it was or who she was.
Her fiancee never understood.
She returned it without a word and they never spoke again.

Years later he gave it to his best friend for her birthday.
She chose it from an assortment of gold rings
and other jewelry that belonged to his mother.
I don't know if she ever wore it.
When the relationship soured, she gave it back.

Now it belongs to me along with all the other jewelry that was his.
I was his final friend.
He died before I rejected him like all those
who had gone before.
I don't think I would have.
I made a promise
to walk with him until the end.
I thought it would be within six months or a year.
Instead it was nine years.

His estate is nearly settled now.
I've turned his taxes into the accountant
and written the checks for estimated taxes due.
He always gave me jewelry when I did that.
So this year I had the ring re-sized
to fit my chubby fingers.
Good Job, Pat!! You've worked hard!!

It sparkles whenever I see it -
a little like the twinkle in his eyes
whenever he saw me.

I miss my friend.
I'm lonelier without him
but grateful for the gifts he brought and taught me
patience
listening
an appreciation for beauty
gentleness
an awareness of suffering people and their issues
and how small acts of kindness
make an enormous difference to people who are hidden away.

I am deeply grateful for the gift of friendship and its legacy
that still sparkles
whenever I place the ring on my finger.

The Aftermath

2009-04-13T05:47:00.000-07:00

Easter lingers this morning
the loveliness of it all.
Three days of intense services
Last year it peaked on Maundy Thursday.
This year it was Easter Sunday itself
for me anyway
Surprise flowers garnishing the entryway outside!
I noticed it right away -
the white petunias blooming in an old palm tree stump
lilies trumpeting the news of the resurrection
colorful annuals planted in fresh mulch.

Inside there were roses
extravagant, full gorgeous red roses
to fill the cross.
We sang five great Easter hymns
as people streamed forward
and added their flowers to the chorus
Alleluia!!

I had awakened Easter morning
still in the lingering darkness of Good Friday
but (and this is shocking to me!!)
reading the sermon I labored 12 hours to prepare
encouraged my heart
and I felt new life coming into me.
From then on it was all Easter joy.

Tyler, amazing Tyler, sang yesterday
two songs back to back.
By the time he finished You'll Never Walk Alone
there may not have been a dry eye in the sanctuary.
I was glad my speaking parts were over!

We had worship yesterday at St. Stephen
or I did anyway -
glorious, magical, anointed, Spirit led worship
a fitting climax to a most extraordinary week.

Thank you, God
for your great gift of the resurrection
and for turning my stony heart to flesh
in such wondrous ways.

Darkness

2009-03-27T06:42:00.000-07:00

I hit the wall on Thursday. There was not a piece of life left within me or so it felt. There was no profound thought for a sermon, no encouraging word for anyone, especially myself, not even a smidgeon of joy. I spent the day in darkness. My mood reflected the weather outside – dark and dreary with nary a patch of blue sky anywhere. I lived the entire day without accomplishing anything of substance. Realizing that I had eaten wheat the day before and that it had caused my despair did nothing to alleviate it.

Sometime in the early morning hours of Friday I saw in my mind’s eye a scene of Jesus on the cross, dying for the sins of the world. We don’t focus much on the suffering Christ as Protestants. We are anxious to move onto the resurrection and victory. Bring on the joy! The darkness has ended! Christ has risen! Shout Alleluia!!

But in the darkness and despair of that early Friday morning I focused on Jesus, hanging on that cross, dying that we might have life. He had come to the end of himself – stuck up there by the worst humanity had to offer, completely and totally vulnerable, laid bare for the taunts of passersby. Only God could change his situation for the better. Of course we know that God did.

Somehow looking at Jesus at the end of himself and knowing that God raised him from the dead, I knew deeply within me that God would also raise me who had come to the end of myself. I placed myself in God’s hands. As the morning light dawned, my spirit began to come alive again. Hope was born. Christ began to arise within me once more. I’m ready to sing alleluias today.

I am learning to be grateful for the gift of darkness when it enters my life, and it does whenever I eat sugar and flour. Knowing sorrow and despair gives me a far greater appreciation of joy when it arises. A friend of mine who suffered from chronic, debilitating pain and spent much time in darkness used to tell me that lilies grow in the valley of darkness, but one must walk there in order to see them. The promise of course is that God is with us in the midst of darkness and will use every situation of our lives for good.

Too often in church we show up on Palm Sunday, sing hosannas and wave palm branches, then return the next Sunday and sing “Jesus Christ Has Risen Today.” We miss the full experience of Easter when we do that. Don’t be afraid of the dark! When we embrace it and walk through it we shall find Easter joy - outrageous joy and the promise of life everlasting.

Wife Swapping

2009-01-31T07:41:00.001-08:00

I watched a show on television last night that still haunts me.
I don't remember its name - probably for the best.
The premise is this:
A wife and mother swaps places with another wife and mother
for two weeks.
They move into the other woman's home,
fit in with the family for one week,
and then change the rules for the second week.

One woman was from the Midwest.
She was warm and likeable and hefty in appearance.
She, her husband and four sons live in the country
outside a small town with only 550 people.
They eat fast food,
drive ATVs
and love playing paintball.
They hope their oldest son will win a paintball scholarship
to go to college.
They are flag waving, proud Americans.

The other woman lives in San Francisco
with her husband and two children.
They spend $40,000 annually on private schools,
eat organic
care about the environment
and are physically fit.
The husband is a naturalized citizen from Britain,
more rude and arrogant than anyone I have ever seen,
even in the movies.

Both women were on target with their observations.
The Midwest family needed better health habits,
exposure to some culture (she took them to a college French lesson),
and more helping out around the house.

The San Francisco family needed more time with their children,
and the children needed a sense of play.
Their lives were structured and regimented
with little time for fun or enjoying one another.

Change was not easy for either family.
It was impossible for the San Francisco crowd.
The father in that fashionable home was/is HORRIBLE!
I have never seen such cruelty, rudeness, arrogance and sick behavior.
The Midwest mother was a kind and gentle soul,
and I pray the scars she received from that man will not last.

Although religion was never mentioned,
the San Francisco guy shows us what life looks like without God -
self-centered, judgmental, closed minded to the nth degree.
His abuse was painful to watch.
It still upsets me.

I was treated that way once.
I guess that's why the show bothered me.
It struck a little too close to home.
Maybe that's why I have such a heart for outcasts,
for people who are downtrodden
and can't quite find the American dream.

Matthew Linn says that if we can allow ourselves to be loved by God
in the place of our deepest wound,
that place will become the foundation of a ministry.
I think it's true in my case.
I pray for that arrogant, obnoxious man today
and pray protection for his wife and children.
Somehow, may the light of Christ find him
and soften that petrified, stony heart.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Buttons

2009-01-22T19:49:00.000-08:00

I found this movie curious indeed
and more than a little long.
In fact I napped briefly and missed a slice of it in the middle somewhere.
This morning I was startled to discover its nomination
for an Academy Award -
best picture of the year!!
Did I miss something?

So I've been thinking.
My opinion has been colored by a review that gave it only two and a half stars.
That's less than nearly everything.
So what is this little film trying to say?
I had to think a little deeper and to investigate.

Seems it was written by the same guy who wrote Forrest Gump.
Gump was an outsider who sort of meandered through life
dispensing wisdom
and being generally a good and kind person.
Benjamin has those characteristics.
He had every right to be bitter.
After all his mother died in childbirth.
He was discarded by his father as a freak.
He grew up in an old folks home,
and old people are the ultimate outcasts in American society.

The wisdom of those old folks nourished him
and he wasn't a freak there.
He listened.
He was considerate.
He did the right thing.
There was nothing evil or particularly sinful in him.
Even his forays into bordellos were naive and innocent.
He traveled the world,
had a little money
and was generally filled with wonder.
Along the way he dispensed wisdom.

He shows us that everyone is created in the image of God
and worthy of care,
even when their appearance is bizarre.
He made the most out of life,
accepted it as a gift
with gratitude
and an open heart.

May it be so with us, Lord.
May it be so.

Indian Giver

2009-01-19T15:13:00.000-08:00

I'm taking a little e-course on World Religions -
not seeking to convert but to strengthen my own faith.
Two days ago there was a snippet that has stayed with me.
It is this.
Native Americans believe every object has a purpose,
every figurine
or book
or towel
or blanket
or anything.
Every thing was designed for a special purpose in life.
If one has a blanket,
it is designed to be used.
If one has six blankets,
one must use all of them.
If someone gives you a blanket and sees that you are using blankets
but not the one he or she gave you,
then you have too many.
The giver can take it away from you.

This has started me thinking
as I look around my cluttered house.
I have thousands of books,
some of them from college forty years ago.
There are dishes and crystal and silver
languishing away in cabinets
that I have not used in twenty years.

And my closet - O my!

How many things do I own that no longer give me pleasure
and lay hidden away?
I've never seen this as a sin.
Perhaps it is.

Perhaps God is calling me to bless the world
by allowing my hidden and forsaken things to fulfill their purpose.
I have new resolve
to clear last year's clutter from the surfaces in my home.
Resolve isn't always enough for me.
May this new year's resolve translate into action
one baby step at a time.

Does anyone need anything?

Charlie Robinson

2009-01-10T17:44:00.000-08:00

Charlie Robinson died this week.
He was a prince of a man,
and his death impacted me profoundly for some reason.
I cried and cried and cried
even though I knew his passing was merciful.
He's been lingering and wasting away for years,
the result of strokes that ravaged his body
and left him paralyzed, unable to speak except through a tube.
His wife Bobbie Sue tended him carefully,
loving him,
caring for him,
advocating for him to the end.
It was a lifetime of faithful love.

We last saw Charlie in October.
Forrest and I stopped in for a visit,
and it was as though we had entered another world.
There was peace in that room and joy.
Sunshine flooded the place
and the graciousness that was Charlie Robinson
spilled over into our hearts.

Some people radiate the Christian faith better than others.
He was able to do that
despite all manner of adversity.
There was a sweetness to him
and a gentleness
that warmed my heart.

In his earlier days he was an entrepreneur of world class status,
taking nothing and making it into something fabulous.
He did that with a little mailbox store in a strip shopping center.
Before anyone knew it, it was the biggest in the world,
UPS 4th largest customer in the entire United States.
Forrest and I went with him and Bobbie Sue to California once
where Charlie won every award that was to be given.
There was not enough wall space on which to hang all his awards.

He did it with grace and a smile and a tenacity that was astounding.
When one door closed, he found another one, and then another one.
The man never gave up.

In his heart of hearts he loved God.
He loved Bobbie Sue and cried whenever he spoke of her
or his beloved West Point.
and he was so very proud of his children and grandchildren.

The world will not soon see another man like Charlie Robinson,
elder emeritus in the very best sense of the word,
entrepreneur,
husband and father,
a devoted friend who would never abandon us nor let us go.

It makes me cry to think of saying farewell to Charlie.
He's been a pillar of faith to me in so many ways,
and I have loved him and Bobbie Sue fiercely.
May the angels of heaven rejoice at his coming,
and prepare a place for him in a lovely mansion.
How blessed they will be to know him.
How blessed I am to have been his friend.
Farewell, Charlie, I'll be along before long.

New Year's Miracle

2009-01-02T20:19:00.000-08:00

We've had a harrowing six weeks or so with Forrest's kidney stone.
Twice he entered the hospital to have it removed
and both times it was postponed.
For weeks he's been toting powerful pain pills around in his pocket,
necessary if the 6 mm stone tried to exit his body.
Wednesday he tried again to have it removed.
We went down there
he on an empty stomach
no coffee nor anything by mouth after midnight.
He changed into a hospital gown and lay on the bed.
They took him for xrays, then brought him back again.
A nurse put an IV in his arm
and all those things they paste to your chest that monitor your heart.
Finally they gave him a hair net type hat.
He was ready to roll,
but then they paused.
The technician said he needed to talk to the doctor.
When Dr. Mineo came in, he too looked at the xrays.
There was no sign of the giant kidney stone.
It just disappeared, went missing.
Maybe it's hiding somewhere, but we doubt it.
No need to blast something you cannot see.

They puzzled over it, then sent him home.
Happy New Year!
I'm calling it a miracle, a new year's miracle,
an omen I think of good things to come in this new year.

We took the news matter of factly
then went to eat Mexican food at Ninfa's.
In joy and in sorrow Forrest and I eat Mexican food.
This time we gave thanks to God and celebrated with saccharine sweetened iced tea.

Peace Mandalas

2008-12-31T16:52:00.000-08:00

They gathered in the parking lot thirty minutes ahead of time
a little tired from day of sightseeing the Port of Houston
and the San Jacinto Monument and battleground.
It was nearly two weeks into their stay in Houston as tourists.
These college students had come to experience Texas for the holidays.
It's a wonderful program.
They live with a family and tour the city at no cost to them
other than finding a way to get here.

Last night they came to my church for dinner and a program.
They were polite and fairly quiet.
They loved dinner!
Skinny little Marina from China ate four plates full of food.

After dinner I spoke of the word peace and how it means different things to different people.
I thought it might be nice
on the edge of this new year
to think about peace,
what it means to us,
and to share our insights.

I directed them to a table laden with supplies for collage -
magazines, glue sticks, scissors, and pie shaped wedges of paper two feet long.
Find a picture of yourself I told them - a person, bird, animal, whatever.
That's going to be the centerpiece of your picture.
Then look through the magazine and grab what grabs you when you think of the word peace.

They set to work in earnest, happily ripping out pages,
trimming the edges,
then gluing them down on their brown paper wedge.

An hour later they were mostly finished,
and so we began the sharing,
assembling eight wedges together to make a big four foot wheel.
Each one talked of his or her wedges - the young college students most of whom were from Asia
and two Anglican priests from Tanzania.
Nearly everyone pasted down clear, blue skies,
happy children,
lots of food.
There were symbols for music,
money
different cultures smiling together, sometimes arm in arm
lots of loving community.

As we gathered around tables together and each one explained his or her very own picture,
we began to form a loving community ourselves,
laughing easily with Joshua at his own self portrait "half dumb-half stupid"
"Oops! I meant half dumb-half smart."
and affirming the work that each one had done.

We were, in that fellowship hall of a little Presbyterian church,
a microcosm of peace and goodwill.
The walls that divided us when we began were down by the end of the evening.
there was laughter, joy and tenderness and hugs when it was all over.
They didn't want to leave,
and lingered for a while, savoring the moment
of the night we all experienced world peace for ourselves.

O God, may it be so!
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.

Sugars and Flours

2008-12-14T02:54:00.000-08:00

It happens every time.
I'm rushed - have things to do
and no money in my purse.
Someone puts out a tray of sandwiches
and it's just so easy to pick up a couple and be done with lunch.
I think I'm a big girl now,
over my refined carbohydrate addiction
and able to handle such things.
After all, aren't we supposed to enjoy life?
Everyone else is doing it.
It's easy.
It's free.
There's an ambience to the experience -
I get to eat with people and be social
instead of going by myself to a restaurant
and carefully ordering the few things I can eat.

An hour later I start to feel bloated.
A little brain fog sets in.
Then the mucus starts flowing.
I feel lethargic.
I'm tired, exhausted tired and try to sleep.
It happens quickly
but then around 3 AM
I'm awake
for good.
still exhausted
still producing a ton of mucus
still bloated
and wondering how long it will be
before I finally learn the lesson.
Sugars and flours make me sick.

It doesn't do any good to beat myself up about it.
I know.
I've done that.
repeatedly.
Best to forgive myself and move on
and wait four days for the junk to exit my body.

O God,
I need you today
for all kinds of reasons.
I really cannot save myself.
I need some help.
Get me through this day.

Sermons

2008-12-06T14:00:00.000-08:00

I've been constipated a time or two in my life.
Not a fun experience.
You strain and strain to no avail
and the discomfort lingers for ages
until the log is finally birthed.

That's what it's like for me to write sermons every week.
Every blank week!
thirteen years plus funerals and memorial services
I've been at this.
I've preached hundreds of sermons now.
The pressure is relentless.
It never leaves me.
As soon as one is birthed,
the next one gets in line waiting for its turn.

The inner critic has a field day with me -
Not good enough!
Trite!
You'll put everyone to sleep with that!
You're not smart enough to do this
Quit.
You're killing your church!

Every blank week we battle.
It reaches a climax on Saturday when we duke it out.
Sometimes the battle continues through the night
and the next morning
until the thing is finally birthed.
O what a relief it is!

But then Sunday morning comes
and I awaken with anticipation
and stand to offer my tiny gift to the love of God
and sometimes I sense God smiling
and loving me all the way through it
and I feel blessed
to have had such a privilege.

It is a strange call to be a preacher,
a terrifying call in so many ways.
There are so many voices telling me how to do it
and my style doesn't always fit the mold.
I do it for the love of God
because I heard him call me to it.
I want so much to please Him
and to sense His love and power among us.
but I cannot control the outcome.
Only God can.
I do the best I can with the gifts I have
and wait
and hope
and pray
that Christ will stand among us once more
and feed His people with the bread of life.

Advent Memories

2008-11-30T18:39:00.000-08:00

Yesterday Emi and I shopped at Laurel Ridge in Gonzales
our tradition on the Friday after Thankisgiving.
They sell elegant, beautiful things there
especially at Christmas time.
On a table by itself without any fanfare or glitz
sat a small ornanment, shiny and golden.
It was a lion with a lamb beside it
and that triggered memories in me
of the year before last when Ron and I had been there together,
he in his wheelchair in the driveway
me inside and outside
and store clerks hovering around and bringing him selections
that would fit a small tree in his room.
He wanted a lion and a lamb ornament for Ginny.
She collects them
and he wanted to give her one.

He made his selection there in the driveway.
The clerks went inside and he burst into tears.
"What is it?" I asked him.
"I'm so alone," he said. "I have no family. They're all gone."
"You have me," I told him. "I'm not leaving."
"I couldn't bear it if something happened to you.
You're all I have."
"Don't worry," I said, "I won't leave you."

It is difficult to live without roots.
When your family is dead and you alone survive them
there is a gaping wound
like a large tree that has been uprooted
and exists forever with the shock of it
until it finally caves in and dies.
I suppose some trees go on to thrive
and others just live with the shock.

On some primal level
it was that enormous shock that welded Ron and me together.
It surfaced every year at Christmas time,
our longing for people long gone
our sadness over being left behind
and the weight of living this life.
We coped the best we could, he with alcohol and cigarettes
me with food and religion
to numb the silent suffering that never left our hearts
and bound us together,
and never more than Advent when the longings broke through the veil.

Advent

2008-11-30T18:17:00.000-08:00

Advent dawned early this morning.
I was ready for it, welcomed it into my life
this birth of hope
that comes every year right after Thanksgiving.
There wasn't much fanfare in the pre-dawn hours -
just a re-checking of my meditation
where spell check found some glaring errors.

There was a sense of genuine anticipation in church.
People came with their poinsettas
and ornaments for the tree.
All the decorative elements were carefully laid out on the front pews
where no one ever sits.
Presbyterians tend to prefer the back seats.
It's easier to keep God at a distance there.

The pulpit hangings and the communion cloth were green.
There were flowers in fall colors on the plant stand.
From a distance we heard the gentle sounds of
O Come, O Come Emanuel
and so it began.

During the first hymn all the paraments changed from green to purple.
I went down the aisle and Carol Yeary helped me
change my green robe to a purple one.
(She had bought it for me as a gift
with some of her tax refund.)
We lit the Advent candle and prayed.
The poinsettas showed up during the children's sermon
when the children collected them and brought them forward
to decorate the chancel.

When it was time for the prayers of the people,
the ushers guided people by rows to the back of the church
where they hung their ornament on the tree
and prayed for whatever God prompted.

When the service was over the sanctuary was all decorated
dripping with the ancient symbolism
that reminds us of the light of Christ coming into our world.
I felt hope today, genuine hope,
that Christ dwells among us
and really will see us through.

The Unwanted Stone

2008-11-22T09:56:00.000-08:00

My Forrest is laid up today
down at Methodist Hospital
full of pain medication
drinking lots of fluids
and trying to dislodge a 6 mm. kidney stone.

A hard place formed within him
and surfaced at eleven o'clock night before last.
He writhed in pain
all night long
and for most of the next day.

When he finally saw the doctor
there was only one thing to do -
head for the hospital
which he did.
I took him.
We waited patiently,
he in terrible pain,
me powerless to help much
except to get things rolling on getting him a room
and some medicine.

They put a "hat" in his toilet
designed to catch pieces of the stone
if it exited his body.
It has not.
So he'll come home now armed with meds
and wait.
and if the pain becomes uncontrollable
he'll go back in again.

I'm trying to write a sermon as I wait for his call
but it not easily birthed today.
It's on gratitude -
probably would be easier to write if it were about
my surly attitude.
Colds make me weary
and things going wrong with Forrest
make me anxious.

Every Saturday I don my Jonah suit
and want to run away from this.
It's too hard!
I'm not smart enough!
Please help!
No pearls of wisdom emerging today.
I can't think straight.
I guess I'll head for the hospital
and stew around there
until the muse decides to pay me a visit.

Illness

2008-11-21T06:52:00.001-08:00

It came upon me gradually
a little scratch in the throat
some sneezing
lethargy.
I fought it,
refused to allow it to have its way with me.
Perhaps I should have given in
and gone to bed on time
instead of staying up late every night
and getting chilled
because the weather changed.
I didn't do that.
Now I have a full blown cold.
Not debilitating
I can walk around
The fever is low grade.
The starch is all gone however.

Now comes the dilemma.
With things piling up around me
and places that I need to be,
can I allow myself the luxury of rest?

I had a day off yesterday
but it was busy, very busy,
and I was so tired.
I have even less energy today.

What does it mean to care for oneself
when the world clamors at your door?
The to do list is endless.
The house is in squalor.

Only I can make that call.
The temptation is always great
to be super woman
taking charge
caring for the world
doing it all
meeting everyone's expectations
with a smile.

But I am tired, really tired.
It's too hard to be on the treadmill today.
Today will be a day of Sabbath rest
as I reflect on the meaning of Thanksgiving
and what I will share with my people
on Sunday.

I am grateful for the pause.
O God, come to me.
Pour your healing presence
into my parched soul
that I might become a vessel
that will glorify you.

Slacker

2008-11-18T07:14:00.000-08:00

I'm beating myself up today big time.
The inner critic is having a field day with me.
Too fat
Too lazy
Too undisciplined
Too uninspired
Too nonspiritual
Shirking my responsibilities big time
when it comes to Presbytery.
Slacker!

Sigh.

I wonder sometimes if God doesn't sigh too.
How much non-function can I get by with
before God says enough is enough -
and deals with me
like the ancient Israelites who got hauled off to Babylon.
I don't know that God punishes us, really.
I think we punish ourselves.
We make our own bed.
I would like to lie down (or is it lay) in mine this morning,
but General Council looms on the horizon.

The problem so often in church work
especially Presbytery meetings
is that it has so little to do with anything of the soul.
I wometimes come away from meetings with my spirit parched.
The devotional is perfunctory
so that we can get on with what is really important.
The best that I can offer is that I show up.
I vote when it's called for
and ask questions on occasion.

I could speak up.
I could say I'm drowning
but I sit in silence.
What's that about?

There are some good things about being on General Council.
I marvel at others making sense
of complicated legal and financial matters.
I genuinely like the people.
I like to know what's going on.
I'm grateful for the work that's been accomplished
by others who are not put off by the head stuff.

I pray for this meeting
for all those who are dealing with these numbers
for those who are so willing to serve
and those who really aren't
but who show up because they are faithful.
Perhaps we are a glimmer of our faithful God
who shows up
and loves us
and beckons us on again
even when we are slacking.

The Amazing Faiths Dialogue

2008-11-15T06:11:00.000-08:00

The other night I went out to dinner with Forrest,
an amazing dinner party if I call it what it was billed.
Ten of us plus a moderator
sat in a living room,
then dined together
and spoke of our faith.
There was a woman from the Holy Land
who had grown up Muslim
but has now added some other things,
a woman who grew up Jewish
but has found peace in Yoga
and certain Buddhist teachings,
a Roman Catholic couple
who do not believe in an interventionist God;
a younger (or younger than me) Episcopalian woman
fresh from a silent retreat at the Villa d'Matel;
another woman whose faith is in every tradition
(I think)
The Episcopalians who hosted us
(liturgically Episcopalian but Unitarian in thought)
and Forrest and me.
Whew!

Around servings of "poor man's stew"
and Greek salad
we drew cards,
then responded to the questions on the cards.
Mine was on forgiveness.
I spoke of forgiving my stepfather
at an herb restaurant in Cleveland, Texas
and how I often ask my board of elders to forgive me
and I them.

Forrest spoke of how he had been led by God
all of his life.
When probed,
he talked about his entrance to law school.

We meandered around a while
then had "free discussion" in the living room
which seemed the most relaxed of all.

What I took away from the evening,
besides the recipe for poor man's stew,
was an image given to me by the Jewish woman.
She said it is like a boat in the water.
We are the boat.
We are not of the water but in the water.
We don't want to fill the boat with water
or we will go under.
Our task is to remain the boat
in whatever body of water we find ourselves.
I like that.
That nugget and the recipe made the evening worthwhile.

Help me, O God, to stay afloat,
in this, the dawning of the busiest season of the year.

Welcome to America

2008-11-06T19:32:00.001-08:00

I've been escorting Ugandans this week,
Hope and Julius,
their last names escape me.
I discovered they were home alone
after traveling long miles to get here
for Julius to speak at a conference
that turned out to be poorly attended.

Tuesday they spent the day with me,
and I saw America through their eyes.
I was proud of my country that day.
I took them with me to vote
and they were allowed into the room
and given a seat.
They waited patiently while I twisted and turned the rotary dial
to make my selections.

"We've been praying and fasting for this election for months,"
they told me.
"It is on the front page every day in Uganda."

"How many days before we know the winner?"
"We will know tonight," I told them.
"You will know before you go to sleep
and you will listen to two speeches - one from McCain
and one from Obama."
"Ohhhhh!!!" they said excitedly.

We headed for MD Anderson hospital and entered the parking garage.
"Oh!!" they exclaimed like children.
"We have never seen such a thing."
and when I parked on the roof they burst into laughter.
"Parking on a roof!!"
"I never heard of such a thing!!"

We visited Marcia Winkler Snyder
who was hospitalized for an infection
and getting the drugs via an IV.
She had a private room.
Again they were amazed:
"Twenty people would be in this room in Uganda!!
three children to a bed!!"
they prayed fervently for her
to the King of kings.
It was pure African, pure Pentecostal
Unusual for us Presbyterians,
but then they are not Presbyterian.

The cafeteria seemed overwhelming to them at lunchtime
so I took them to a Burger King
"American fast food" I told them
"very important for you to experience in America."
I ordered them a mustard whopper, fries and a drink.
They loved it.
then it was on to the Johnson Space Center.

"This is historical!! This is historical!!
Most people never come here!!"
Julius especially was wide eyed and childlike,
grinning from ear to ear and almost jumping with joy
when he saw the mock up moon rover,
the simulated stars in the sky,
the moon rocks,
the huge rockets.
He was impressed with the teamwork that it took
to put a man on the moon.
He loved the quotation from the plaque that the astronauts placed on the moon:
"We came in peace for all mankind."
Afterward I took them to Starbucks for lattes,
then home - a long trip because of the traffic.
Again, they laughed out loud when they experienced my GPS,
It was a great day.

So often we take things for granted in this country
"how disciplined we are" in Julius' words
"how orderly, kind and respectful."
"I have learned many things today to take home with me."

Every now and again
we make a difference in someone's life.
Tuesday was one of those days.
And it happened on another historic day,
the day we elected Barack Obama
the President of the United States.
I smiled when I went to sleep that night,
so very proud to be an American.

Home Safe

2008-10-25T19:21:00.000-07:00

A 10 day stay is a long time
especially when one doesn't sleep at night.
I've felt like the walking dead for several days now
after tossing and turning
in my kingsized bed at the Hawthorne Suites
all night long,
then rising at five a.m.

Today my intensive ended
my fabulous intenseive with Lucia Capacchione
and I made the drive back home to Houston
from the Rio Grande Valley.

It took hours and hours and hours.
I stopped for diet coke
and again for cheetos,
then water,
then the police stopped me
for not having a front license plate.

I became sleepy
and veered to the other side of the highway.
A concerned truck driver awakened me
with a big blast of his horn.

Nothing kept me awake very long.
I finally stopped in Ganado
at a convenience store parking lot,
reclined my seat
and went to sleep briefly.
It was enough.
I coasted into town
around 8 PM.

El Rocio

2008-10-20T06:11:00.000-07:00

I'm at El Rocio this week
getting certifed in CJEA.
Whatever is that?
It's a method
originated by Lucia Capacchione
to bring healing to one's life
and th world.
It is learning to listen to th inner voice
and living and moving from that quiet, centered plac
in a busy and frantic world.

All manner of voices clamor for my attention.
CJEA helps me process them
and discern which one belongs to the Spirit of God.

The pace hre is relaxed
a little too relaxed to suit me.
It's hard gearing down to the gentle rhythm.
I keep thinking, "Pick up the pace!!"
Now!!
This is only the third day,
the third of ten.

May the Spirit help me turn loose and relax,
rest my weary body and soul
and listen for the voice of God.

The Apostle's Creed - Max

2008-10-13T20:12:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time...
Jesus died
and then he rose.
He ascended into heaven
and we will too.
That's what the Bible says.
But why do we say
the third day he rose again from the dead?
like he had been going up and down
any number of times.

Was he practicing?
Was it fun for him
and so he rose over and over?
Did he not get it right the first time?
Was heaven too full
or no one on duty to let him him?

Or maybe it was just fun to be part of the universe
like floating
up and float
then down again,
then up and float
and down
until the time had fully come.

One of my elders asked me once
why Jesus rose again from the dead.
How many times did he rise?
he said.
More than one
or it wouldn't say "again."
Was it forty?
and exactly what were the circumstances?

Who knows really?
We're Western - want to figure it all out like engineers
or people working a giant puzzle.
But most of faith is mystery
and the more we learn
the more we don't know.
Some questions have no answers
this side of the veil.
Jesus rising again may be one of them.

(Note: Forrest knew the answer - Jesus rose again is like saying Jesus was alive again - no difference. So that clears it all up. My fancy theological degrees didn't help one bit, but it was certainly fun to think about!)

Josephine

2008-10-10T12:23:00.000-07:00

Aunt Josephine died last week.
They waited until today to have her memorial service.
She was one of the quiet people,
hidden
and invisible.
No one knew what to do with schizophrenia sixty years ago,
and so she stayed in her room
tended by her mother
until too many mini strokes did her in.

She had four children
and always wanted to be a good mother,
but it eluded her.
No one knows what happened to her three daughters.
They won't be here today.

In the end she was mostly forsaken
visited only by her nephew's wife Alba
who loved her
and talked to her
and fussed over her.

She lived in a nursing home
that smelled bad when you entered it.
It was full of other people like her,
too poor to go anywhere else
and crying out for someone to love them.

The great hunger in the world isn't for food,
said Mother Teresa.
It is for love,
for someone,
anyone to care whether we live or die.

Josephine, who never had a birthday cake
or a celebration in her honor
will have one today.
There will be music
and kindness
and food to eat.
Alba will speak of loving her
and I will give witness to Jesus
who loved Josephine her entire life
and loves her still.

May the angels rejoice in her homecoming
and may we all do a better job
of honoring
and loving
the invisible people who surround us.

Nights in Rodanthe

2008-10-06T05:48:00.000-07:00

This is a spoiler, so don't read if you haven't seen the movie or want to.

Anyone who lives on the Gulf Coast
knows what a hurricane is like
and the kind of preparations we have to make.
They were clueless about all of that
in Nights in Rodanthe.
For one thing
you don't build your house in the water.
The storm surge will topple your home
in a New York minute
not to mention the winds!
Every business in Galveston over the water
crumpled like a recycled aluminum can during Hurricane Ike
except the Flagship Hotel.
I'm not sure what happened to it.

And the morning after
you don't get up and walk on a pristine beach.
There is debris
and clutter everywhere!
And it stinks.
In Galveston there were fish
stuck in the chain link fences.

Anyway, Nights in Rodanthe is
about two people going through personal storms.
They end up in a beach house bed and breakfast,
ride through the storm together,
and fall in love in the process.

He is a doctor who has become hardened and cold
and learns the power of confession and redemption.
She has lost herself in a troubled marriage
and finds it again because of his love and support.

The sub plot involves a simple woman
who held all the love and kindness in the world
within her heart.
We never meet her.
She died unexpectedly
during cosmetic surgery
performed by the doctor who is the star of the film.

I'm not sure that she's a Christ figure
because she died inadvertently,
not willingly.
Her sad death
and its profound impact on her family
remind us of Romans 8:28
"We know that all things work together for good
for those who love God,
who are called according to His purpose."
The doctor, his son and his artist lover
may never have found healing had she not died.

It's a little sappy,
but the movie ends with hope,
a reminder that we should look for
and expect wonderful surprises
from our loving and giving God.

Forgetfulness

2008-10-04T04:51:00.000-07:00

Jenny's power went out in the hurricane.
No tv for her
or coffee in the afternoon.
She had a freezer full of food,
full and brimming over,
and she worried
alone in her hot house.
Someone loaned her a generator
or she bought it - I forget which.
She plugged it in
and the noisy thing
kept all her food cold
and frozen
safe for a later time.

For two weeks she lived in that hot house
sweating in the daytime,
leaving it at night for cooler quarters
and the loud machine
kept all her food cold.

One day out of the blue
electrical power came back on.
Just like that
in an instant
with no warning
all the machines
went humming in her house.
Joy to the world!

Happily she unplugged that squabbling generator
and went out and about on her merry way
sleeping at home again
watching all her favorite shows
sparkling and happy once more.

A few days later she noticed the smell.
All the food was bad.
The freezer was plugged into the surge protector
but the surge protector was not
plugged into an electrical outlet.
So she emptied her freezer of rotting food
and put it all in the trash.

It's the little things that trip you up in life
like forgetting to plug something in
or not remembering to turn the coffee pot on before bedtime
so the coffee will be waiting in the morning
or mailing the payment in the nick of time
without a stamp on the envelope.

Is it age that makes us forgetful
or are we inundated with too many things to remember?
Help us to be gentle with ourselves
as we struggle not to make stupid mistakes.

Paul Newman

2008-09-30T06:09:00.000-07:00

He had these fabulous, piercing blue eyes
and I swooned
again and again.
Although I never met him
I admired him
his faithfulness
his philanthropy
his ability to charm my heart with his acting
his oil and vinegar dressing which is the only commercial, mass produced salad dressing without sugar or all the "oses" -
dextrose, sucrose
etc.
I've always been grateful for that.

I'll miss him.
I never told him that he had touched my life
never sent him any cards.
I've never done that for a lot of people.

Maybe today,
remembering him,
I will make the effort
to let someone know I've been blessed
because of them.

Refused to Wear

2008-09-26T12:14:00.000-07:00

I thought of her today,
a sunny afternoon much like this one.
I took her to the shoe store
to get a new pair
of doctor ordered shoes.
She dragged her foot a little
as we entered the shoe store.
She was quiet as the salesman fitted her foot
then brought her an assortment of lace up shoes
that would help her gait.

In all the years I had known her
she had NEVER worn lace up shoes.
She wore feminine shoes
spike heels in the early days
flats now that she was getting older.
she had small feet
graceful feet
and she liked shoes that reflected that
although we never talked about it.
I just noticed what she wore.

That afternoon she rejected most of the shoes quite easily,
then settled on a brown leather pair.
The man said they would install the brace
on the premises
and we could pick them up later.
She nodded and paid the bill,
something outrageous as I recall,
hundreds of dollars
a hefty sum fifteen years ago
for someone with meager resources.

She was silent on the way home.
She never did comment about the experience.
She never wore them.
She refused to.

Some things in life take away one's dignity
and are too painful to bear.
Those brown lace up shoes fall into that category.
They demeaned her
made her feel less than,
like an invalid,
defective
and so she hid them away in her closet
where they remained
until her belongings were discarded
in the weeks following her death.

Aging is not always a graceful process.
Care for those who are growing older isn't too great either.
There are losses that come with aging
too difficult to accept
and so we remain silent
but for the tears
that God stores in a bottle somewhere.

Starry Night

2008-09-25T06:15:00.000-07:00

I found it on an internet site
a velvet dark blue sky
exploding with twinkling stars.
They danced
and twirled
and all earth danced in response.
A tree burst into a living flame of praise to God!

It was the centerpiece of worship last night.

Have you ever seen a beautiful, starry night
I asked them.
Maybe in the mountains?
On the beach before it was ravaged and littered?
Or anywhere else in the world?

Did it lift you to praise?
Did you wonder if that's how it was
the night the angels sang?
Were you filled with awe and wonder and stillness
at the beauty of God dancing before you?

What if you could somehow capture that on canvas?

That's what Van Gogh did
and people have loved it
and related to it
for centuries now.

Van Gogh was in a dark place when he painted it,
held in the grip of a debilitating disease,
hopeless
in despair.
Mayube he looked out the window
and saw the sky
or he remembered when he had seen it before
and then he knew
that he was not alone in his suffering
that he was surrounded by God
who really is sovereign
and so much larger and bigger than he was
than we are.

The heavens are telling the glory of God
and all creation bows before God's presence.
Be still.
Turn loose.
Look up!
We are not alone
but invited to join
the dance of the swirling stars
in living praise
to the God who will carry us through.

Amen.

Too much

2008-09-25T05:44:00.000-07:00

Numb today
flat
Laid out like a body in a coffin
Too much!
Too much sadness for people
who are suffering from Ike.

Pancho lost his home
and everything in it.
Where will he go?
What will he do?

Donnie and his wife lost their church.
The winds hoisted much of the roof
and sent it crashing all over Pasadena.
No more grand pipe organ
to call people to worship.
She cried
when she described the devastation.

And what about Galveston?
Little Emmanuel church?
five feet of water in their sanctuary
and few resources
to clean up the muck
or replace anything.

And Galveston First
the mother ship of churches?
buckling wooden floors,
stinky damp carpet
soggy wires
and a silent, wet organ

O my God!
Out of the depths we cry to you!!
Lord,
in your mercy,
hear our prayer.

Hope

2008-09-19T05:38:00.004-07:00

I don’t usually care for computer generated calls.
Most often they’re a huge annoyance,
politicians courting my vote
or salesmen trying to sell me something.
A computer call last Wednesday was different.
It said, The water supply is no longer contaminated.
The water is safe to drink.

That meant I didn’t have to boil water
on the stove
for two minutes
at a full rolling boil
any more.

I could just turn on the faucet
and pour myself a glass of water,
Use ice from the refrigerator's ice maker.
In that moment I was awash in gratitude,
giddy with it!

This computer call brought genuine hope
that one day life would be normal again
with safe water
television
the internet
garbage pick up
and peace of mind and heart.
The Lord of hosts is with us.

Day 6 of the Recovery

2008-09-19T05:38:00.003-07:00

Day 6 of the Recovery
I lose count.
Many people are in worse shape than we are.
Power came back to the church yesterday.
The rest of the world goes on.
I googled the national headlines
yesterday at a mailbox store.
There was no mention of Ike or Houston or Galveston
in the national news.
We were not even a blip.
How quickly fame disappears
and compassion and care move on
to another part of the world
another disaster
antoher war
another political argument.

But Ike is still big news in Houston
front page every day
dogging us still
with heart rendering stories of the aftermath
POD (points of distribution) squabbles
a ravaged Galveston and Bolivar
now looking like a third world country
hot tempers from people with no electricity
wanting the infrastructure of their lives to return.

Be with us in our waiting, Lord.
Calm our angry, fearful, despairing hearts
with the balm of your healing presence.

Powerlessness

2008-09-19T05:38:00.002-07:00

It's a little thing really
in the grand scheme of things
that I have no television
or internet
no keeping up with the world
just me
on my little island
my air conditioned island.

It's the powerlessness that is frustrating.
not being able to fix it
not knowing when or if
it will ever be fixed.
No one calls with updates about the cable.
We wait silently
for someone else who does have power
to make things right again.

How many people live their lives like this every day.
unable to fix what is broken
unable to rise above it
and take action of any kind
powerless
dependent upon others for their well being.
It's not so easy.
A long time of it will bring despair.
Be with us all, O God, in our waiting.
Fix our vision on higher things
and give us compassion for those who wait.

Red Light Green Light

2008-09-19T05:38:00.001-07:00

Red light - green light
I used to play that game as a child.
Someone shouted red light
and we all froze in place.
They shouted greeen light
and we all ran
I don't know that there were winners or losers.
We just stopped and started
and had fun doing that.

Forrest and I are playing that game in Houston this week.
A hurricane has ripped through town
leaving all manner of destruction in its wake.
Millions are without electrical power
including all the traffic lights.
We try to be courteous.
We wait our turn.
But some people don't have the hang of it yet.
They don't understand the red light-green light game
of when to stop and when to start
so there's a little chaos and anxiety
when we come to an intersection
with multiple lanes of traffic.

This afternoon coming home from church
it seemed more like the game bumper cars -
cars starting when they should be stopped
and stopping when they should be going
and the intersection full of cars
going both ways at the same time.
The front end of a hurricane is more fun than the back end.
We're getting testy now
a lot less patient
with the government,
power and cable companies,
the endless lines for gasoline, ice and groceries.

Today is Day 3 of the aftermath
It doesn't seem any better than Day 1.
It's hard for someone to have patientce -
when there's an oak treee in the living room.
when we scramble eggs on the barbecue grill for breakfast
when we cannot watch TV or use the internet
when we read by candlelight in the evening
and when clients in other parts of the country
don't understand why their demands aren't met.

God is teaching us this week in Houston
what our priorities are
who is important in our lives
how much time we have when there is no electricity
how self centered our lives are
who really is in control ultimately.

May we emerge from this storm more aware
and as open, playful and adventurous
as we were so many years ago
when we played red light - green light.

Watching for the Morning

2008-09-19T05:38:00.000-07:00

I had never heard that swishing sound before.
In the darkened night
the tree branches swished and danced
as the gusty wind tickled their leaves
and sent them spinning.
I had no fear
knowing that a giant storm was wooing them to action.
I was strangely still within.
I have never had rational fears,
only irrational ones.
On this night I was alone
and peaceful
as I listened to the swishing
and watched very serious television anchors
describe what Ike was doing in the Gulf of Mexico.
Millions of us were watching for the morning.

I was prepared.
bottled water,
food in the pantry and refrigerator
flashlight
battery powered radio on alert.
All the physcial things were done.
Emotionally I had moved into numb,
the place where I don't feel anything.
I function.
I was clear,
not having eaten any sugar or flour.
Spiritually, I had few words -
other than asking God to protect
the elderly, fragile people
and all those who were vulnerable and afraid.
I asked for myself that the air conditioning stay on,
remembering the oppressive heat of Hurricane Alicia.

I spoke words of peace to the storm
just as Jesus had done.
Peace, be still.
All night long.
Swishing and swaying.
Peace, be still.
Swishing, dancing, clapping their hands
Peace, Be still.
The trees seemed to enjoy the dance.
It never felt frightening.
At 11:30 the power went off.
odd since the trees were doing a slow dance,
not a tango.
I lit a glass candle, the dime store variety
with a picture of the sacred heart of Jesus.
It stayed lit all night,
warming me with its light.

The power came on again, then off
then on, then off, then finally on again at 5:30 AM.
I slept through most of it,
and when I was conscious
spoke lovingly to the storm
Peace, be still.
The storm crept in in darkness
while we waited for the morning.

My soul waits for the Lord
and in His word I hope.
My soul waits for the Lord
more than watchmen wait for the morning.
more than watchmen wait for the morning.