Peace Mandalas

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.