Darkest Night

In the middle of a conversation with my parents yesterday during which we had talked quite a bit about triaging various expenses and repairs, my dad suddenly piped up and said, "I have some good news!"  His voice was so bright and cheery.  I said, "You do?  Let's have it."  He said, "The days start getting longer tomorrow."  The glee in his voice was a delight for me to hear.  Both my dad and I struggle with Seasonal Affective Disorder.  Basically we get the blues in the winter, and though we both dislike the cold, what really makes us droop is the lack of sunlight.  The days are so short and it's so hard to get outside, especially when it rains.  We both would prefer to hibernate inside by the fire and emerge when the crocuses and daffodils start poking their little heads up, heralding the coming of spring.

I have struggled this Advent, not just with the cold and darkness, but also with the barrage of images of death, violence, disease, and just downright meanness in the world.  And then, when the report about the torture done in this country in our name came out, I felt like a knife had been stuck in my back.  I don't usually write about political issues because I haven't figured out how to do enough research to be informed enough to articulate something that would be helpful.  Mostly I just listen and try to learn.  It doesn't seem like all the online hostility furthers the conversation anyway.  One thing I do know, though.  Torture is wrong.  I am a follower of Jesus, who suffered torture before being crucified.  I may be naive, but as a follower of the one who told us to love our enemies, I believe that torture is wrong.  Period.  And the fact that my fellow countrymen committed such atrocities fills me with shame.  This torture was committed on my behalf.  And for that I want to put on sackcloth and ashes.  I am grateful that I live in a country where I have great privilege and much more security than many living in other places, but I am ashamed that security has become the idol to which we have sold our souls.  The prophets in the Hebrew Scriptures cried out, "Repent."  Indeed.  Repent.  We are a country in need of repentance.

The words of the Confession from Enriching Our Worship keep returning to my mind, especially these:
"We repent of the evil that enslaves us,
the evil we have done,
and the evil done on our behalf."

The evil done on our behalf.  I repent of the evil done on my behalf.  Please forgive me, God.  Please forgive the United States of America, Jesus, for doing to others what was done to you.  Please forgive us for the evil we have done.

It feels like the darkest night will not end.  It looks like injustice will triumph.  At times it even feels like hope is lost in a country where we can't even find a way to have civil conversation with one another.  It is a dark, dark time.  And yet, what we know is that Jesus was born into a dark time as well.  The people had walked in darkness a long time before his birth restored the light.  When he came he brought hope that all would be redeemed.  I do not know how all this hatred and violence will be redeemed, but I do know that "nothing will be impossible with God."

My friends, I have some good news.  The days are getting longer.  The people who have walked in darkness will see a great light.  
 

For a child has been born for us,

a son given to us;

authority rests upon his shoulders;

and he is named

Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,

Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

His authority shall grow continually,

and there shall be endless peace

for the throne of David and his kingdom.

He will establish and uphold it

with justice and with righteousness

from this time onward and forevermore. (Isaiah 9:6-7)

This Christmas I pray for all who have suffered torture and for their tormentors, for all who have suffered violence and for those who are violent, for all who are victims of disease, despair, and destruction.  I pray for the establishment of justice and righteousness in this and in every land, hoping that we one day we will no longer be walking in darkness but will be the people who walk in light.

View from the Plaza Prayer Station: Blessings

A few years ago at the conclusion of a gathering of my colleague group, John Kerr said good-bye to me at the door of his house and spontaneously reached out to give me a blessing as I left.  He said, "We don't do that enough, do we?"  Bless each other.  Ever since he and I have been exchanging blessings, and I have found it to be such a lovely way of praying for each other.  Recently I began reading Russ Parker's book, Rediscovering the Ministry of Blessing.  It talks about the scriptural roots of blessings and the different types of blessings and how they can be used in ministry.  It's been a wonderful book to read in Advent and has inspired me to start thinking about how I can incorporate blessing prayer into my ministry more.  The Plaza Prayer Station is one place I'd like to try it.  

This past Thursday was a day full of blessings.  It started with two St. Stephen's volunteers who helped me load up an abundance of snacks that had been donated by members of the church to hand out to students during their exams.  United Campus Ministries organizes the event.  From 10-4 each day of exams churches come and hand out treats to frazzled exam takers.  Some are nervously preparing to take an exam and some approach the table bleary-eyed, scarcely able to focus because they've been writing essays for 2 1/2 hours.  Some are hyped up with the joy of an exam-gone-well or with sugar and caffeine pulsing through their systems.  We provide chips and fruit and granola bars and other sweet and salty snacks.  We always have a few home-baked items, and those are the most popular of all.  The students are sweet and appreciative, and we assure them of our prayers for them in this stressful time.  This year one student asked for prayer for her baby who is due in 3 weeks, so I was blessed to be able to pray with her.

After time at the snack station I moved out into the cold, windy winter sunshine of the Plaza and set up the station.  A few regulars came by and a couple of new ones.  I prayed for a mission trip to Vietnam and for discernment and clarity for some making decisions as well as for relief from stress and anxiety.  At one point I was startled by the loud sound of three young men on skateboards zooming by.  They weren't my skateboard dudes, but they brought a smile to my face nevertheless.  Another student brought me hot chocolate, and I was grateful because it was cold!

It was my last time to sit in the Plaza this semester.  Just before I decided to pack up, one of the original members of the skateboard crowd came over to chat.  He was the very first one who had come over to me on that warm September afternoon when I began this ministry and told me he thought what I was doing was cool.  The first one to come up and the last one I spoke to before leaving.  Only God, I thought, could bookend the semester so neatly.  I invited him and the campus ministry he's a part of to participate in our "Blessing of the Semester" event that we're going to do on the first Sunday of next semester.  It will be kind of like a house blessing, only we're going to bless all the main buildings on campus.  We'll start on the chapel steps in full vestments, swinging incense and carrying a cross, and we'll make our way through the student union to the humanities, science, and business buildings, past the admin building that's under construction, through the library and back to the chapel.  I'm hoping people will see us crazy Christians and get curious about what we're doing.  Blessing the semester.  Blessing the campus.  Blessing the students, faculty, and staff.  And most of all, giving thanks for all the ways God continues to bless us.  

As for me, I deem the first semester of the Plaza Prayer Station a success beyond my imagining.  I trust that God has blessed CNU through me.  I know God has blessed me through this ministry.  And now, we rest.  Until next semester...

View from the Plaza Prayer Station: Gratitude

I arrived today at the prayer station harried and worn out.  Yesterday I had taken my car to the shop for a coolant leak only to find that it needs a new water pump to the tune of a grand and many hours of labor.  That meant no car for today.  Fortunately Jan Brown loaned me hers, so I could get to the prayer station and to Eucharist.  For that I was grateful. 

At the same time, I have awakened the past few mornings feeling stressed and anxious and even depressed.  Turning on the news and scrolling through Facebook show me again and again that Everything Is Awful in the world right now.  From racial injustice to ebola to ISIS to political vitriol and growing rage and hate, I feel overwhelmed by dark things in our world.  And then more particular stress includes a very busy few weeks at both jobs with little time for breathing, rest or pre-holiday activities.  Add increasing costs of insurance and car repairs and other expenses, and I've had a hard time finding serenity this Advent.  I long for peace, and instead I feel simultaneously agitated and weary.

In the rooms of recovery we say that the best antidote for fear, depression, anxiety or other negative emotions is gratitude.  Today I got to witness that in abundance.  The primary theme of my conversations with students today was gratitude.  Several young women whom I've prayed with before came by to tell me that things in their lives were better and to say thank you to me for my presence and my prayers.  A number of other students whom I hadn't met came up just to say that they'd seen me previously from a distance and they wanted to thank me for me being there.  One young man saw my sign and gave me a thumbs up while I was talking with a staff member who had dropped by for conversation, and then he returned a few moments later to ask if he could take a picture of the sign. 

There were a few students clearly feeling stressed by the amount of work they yet need to do this semester, and I was able to say prayers with them, but others simply wanted to say how thankful they were that their work is almost done.  Many people walked by with a smile and a hello even when they didn't stop.  One woman clearly read the part of the sign that says, "Tell me your stories about God," and said, "God is good."  All the time. 

It was very cold at the prayer station today, but I turned on my little heater and it took the chill off of my legs.  One student asked if she could pray for me and said a prayer right then and there for people struggling with addiction and for release from stress.  Though no skateboard dudes were out today, I was able to catch up with one of them later in the coffee shop.  He's taking a class on C.S. Lewis.  Cool!  When I told him I would be there for awhile next week before I head off to do a healing service on the Eastern Shore, he said, "You have the coolest job."  I do.

Sometimes it seems like Everything is Awful.  And many things are right now.  But focusing on gratitude for what is good serves to lighten my heart.  Today at CNU I received prayers and blessings and gratitude, and it fanned the small flame of hope inside that never quite goes out, no matter how the darkness grow.  The light shines in that darkness and the darkness does not overcome it.  I am grateful today for the students and others I encounter in the CNU community and for the gift of this prayer ministry which feeds me as much as it does those for whom I pray. 

Sabbath Sunset

Today in spiritual direction we talked about Sabbath and what it is for me.  I smiled sheepishly because this is a topic I often discuss with others, encouraging them to observe Sabbath.  But I'm not always so good about observing Sabbath in my own life.  I do have a day off from my jobs every week, and I'm good about taking it about 98% of the time.  But that day often gets packed full of errands and appointments and to-do lists.  My spiritual director suggested that Sabbath time might include a variety of activities as long as they are things that I want to do.  Then he asked, "What restores you?"  A few things came to mind quickly - reading fiction, spending time outside in nature, listening to music, movies, rest.  I try to take time for some of these things each week, but the trick for me is not to feel guilty about all the things that aren't getting done while I'm doing the things that restore me.  I can never be reminded enough to be gentle with myself.

When I got home I decided to take a walk.  Of late my walks have been mostly about exercise, trying to get steps and get them quickly.  But tonight I didn't set the Nike app to tell me how fast and how far I walked.  I just put on my headphones and headed out to enjoy being outside.  As I walked past the rec center and up the hill through the trees, I noticed a golden light illuminating the beech leaves that are still clinging to branches in their various shades of yellow and brown.  I suspected the sunset might be a good one.  Coming out of the trees, I saw the clouds all pink and gold above me, and I quickly walked up the hill that is across from Eastern State Hospital.  I stopped to let the walkers behind me go by, and I stepped off the path so that I could gaze at the brilliant sky.

I decided to sit down on a small hill and just watch.  As I sat down I remembered how I used to walk by the river three blocks from my house in Norfolk and watch the sunset.  I did it every night that I was home and the weather was good.  I didn't realize how much I have missed watching sunsets.  "This," I thought.  "This is what restores me."  Watching God's glorious artwork.  I never tire of watching them.  As much as I love living in Williamsburg, there are not many good places for watching sunsets.  I'm so glad that I happened upon a place where I could get a good view. 

At first I didn't take any pictures.  I told myself that we've become obsessed with with trying to capture moments on film rather than just being present to them.  So for awhile I simply sat on the ground under the trees and watched. And then I took some pictures, not because I wanted to capture the moment, but because I wanted to share it.  Walkers and joggers passed by, and they smiled, but they didn't turn their heads to look at the beauty around them.  Maybe they could see it anyway.  I hope so.  But I was there.  And I saw.  .  I was reminded of what restores my soul.  That is what Sabbath is.  Taking time to sit still and enjoy the sunset and say, "Wow, God.  Thank you."  Later as I continued my walk, the wind that had blown all day seemed particularly intense, and I remembered my spiritual director's final question to me, "Where is God in all of this?"

Here.  Right here with me.  In the wind, in the sunset, in the walking.  I had a blessed evening walking and being close with God.  I pray that those in Ferguson may feel God's presence, too, though their evening has been quite different from mine and it will take much more than a sunset to restore their souls.   

View from the Plaza Prayer Station: Observing the Proper Rites

One of my favorite books is The Little Prince, and one of my favorite scenes from the book is the one in which the little prince meets the fox and learns what it means to be tamed - to establish ties.  The fox instructs him to sit a little distance away and to wait patiently and then to sit a little closer each day.

"The next day the little prince came back.
'It would have been better to come back at the same hour,' said the fox.  'If, for example, you come at four o'clock in the afternoon, then at three o'clock I shall begin to be happy.  I shall feel happier and happier as the hour advances.  At four o'clock, I shall already be worrying and jumping about. I shall show you how happy I am!  But if you come at just any time, I shall never know at what hour my heart is to be ready to greet you . . . One must observe the proper rites . . .'"

Today I was not able to come at the same hour to the Plaza Prayer Station.  I was not able to observe the proper rites.  Sometimes we have to choose between two goods.  It was one of those days where I wished I could clone myself.   For months I have been scheduled to go to the Dean's meeting for our Diocese in order to do a short presentation about the Addictions and Recovery Commission that I am helping to restart with Jan Brown.   Our appointed time was 11:40 at Bruton Parish in Williamsburg.  CNU is about 40 minutes away in Newport News.  I knew I would be late for my usual noon arrival in the Plaza. But there was nothing I could do.  The presentation was very important.  I'm glad I went.  And I'm sad that I arrived over an hour late.

I think one of the hardest parts for me was that I had no way to let anyone know.   I simply was not there at the usual hour.  So I missed my regulars, the ones who are getting out of class or lab at 12 or 12:15 and scurrying off to lunch before their next class.  I did get to see my skateboard crew who were sans skateboards but still sitting outside on this very windy day, eating lunch and filled with frivolity.  As I walked up with my chairs and sign, one of them said, "I was just saying to myself, 'Where's Lauren?' and you appeared."  It felt good to be expected.  Just like the first day I had encountered them, this group bubbled over with joy and laughter and playfulness.  It was a delight to share the Plaza with them.

As the wind blew strong and the shade kept overtaking me, I wasn't able to stay as long as I would have liked.  While I was there, though, one of the Canterbury students sat down and had lunch with me, and I did have one prayer request from someone who told me she had often seen me sitting there.

When the scene from The Little Prince came to me as I was sitting in the Plaza, I realized that my ministry in the Plaza is much like the taming of the fox.  Each time I come I get a little closer to them, and they get more used to my presence.  It is helpful if I come at the usual hour and they can look forward to me being there.  If I come at just any hour then they don't know when to find me.  I feel sad when I miss them.

Of course the other thing that the little prince learns from the fox is that we are responsible for what we have tamed and that when departure draws near we will be sad.  The sadness I experienced today is a preview of the sadness I will feel in a few weeks when the semester draws to a close.  Next semester I will be back, but schedules will be different, and I will probably get to "tame" a new batch of students, though hopefully I will also continue to build relationships with some from this semester. Or perhaps it is me who is being tamed. We'll have to wait and see.

View from the Plaza Prayer Station: Cold Hands, Warm Hearts

Remember that saying, "Cold hands, warm heart"?  Well, it was definitely true today at the Plaza Prayer Station.  Forecast was for low 50's, overcast and 50% chance of rain.  Reality was mid 40's with a stiff breeze and cooling over the afternoon.  Fortunately the rain didn't start till much later in the day, but I didn't think it would be possible to sit outside in the cold air with no sun.  Talking with my rector this morning I mentioned that I needed fire to warm myself and the students.  Lo and behold, he has a very portable little propane heater that is perfect for the ministry.  So with renewed courage, I set out for the Plaza, feeling confident that my little heater would do the trick and I wouldn't have to move inside. 

With my fleece-lined flannel shirt, coat, and scarf on, and after carrying all my stuff out to the Plaza, I actually felt pretty warm, so I sat down and waited, pulling out my rosary.  I only got halfway through the Lord's Prayer before my first student popped by.  He told me that he loves knowing that I'm there and that when he came out of his lab today he said to himself, "Yep, she's here." He told me he was always going to drop by to say hi.  Warmed my heart!  Not long after another student walked by, read my sign, said, "Cool!" and then called back over her shoulder, "I'll be back."  "I'll be here," I answered, and she did come back later.  There were more "popcorn prayers" today as it was too cold for lengthy conversation, though one student got his lunch and we chatted while we both ate. 

It seemed like I saw more than the usual number of people today which surprised me because of the cold.  No skateboard dudes.  Not many people hanging out in the Plaza.  But people came over with purpose, either requesting prayers or thanking me for being there.  It was an hour and a half before I realized that my hands were like ice and it was time to turn on the little heater.  Alas!  The knob that turns on the gas had fallen off in my car, so I couldn't turn it on.  Though I was disappointed, at least I know I can use it on another day. 

Toward the end of my time a member of the staff came and sat down and asked me what this was all about.  Then he asked if there was anything I wanted prayer for and he prayed with me right there, just like I do with the students.  He's Baptist, so I'm guessing that extemporaneous prayer comes a little more easily for him.  I was grateful for the prayer. 

The whole afternoon filled my heart with warmth no matter how cold my hands got.  I had woken up in a bad mood, and though I have gotten better at trusting that God is going to provide for this ministry, I had thought that today I would have to move out of the Plaza, and I just didn't want to.  At one point a student came past and asked me if I wanted some tea or hot chocolate.  I did indeed, and about 20 minutes later he returned with a steaming cup of it.  While he was inside a flash mob-esque event happened right in front of me.  A young man ran up to a young woman and started singing "You never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your lips..." a la Tom Cruise in Top Gun.  After the first line, about 15-20 young men came running over from all corners of the Plaza and encircled the two, swaying and singing, "You've lost that Sigma feeling..."  Now I have no idea what the young woman did to lose the Sigma feeling, but it was very entertaining for me!

I know I write this over and over, but I am continually amazed at how the students will come up and pour out whatever is troubling them, sometimes to the point of tears streaming down their faces.  Tests and presentations and papers are piling up, and stress is high.  I remind them to breathe and I pray that God will remove their fears and anxiety give them strength and endurance as they work.  I remember those days so well, when all the work was so overwhelming.  But to talk about their worries with a total stranger is evidence to me that God is at work in that Plaza.  It's worth cold hands and feet and nose and ears and an entire chilled body to be able to be a channel for a little spiritual warmth.  Plus, there's chai and chocolate croissants (heated) waiting in the coffee shop when I'm done.  I never thought I, who hate the cold with great passion, would feel grateful for a couple of hours of sitting out in the cold, but my heart is full of gratitude.

View from the Plaza Prayer Station: Don't You Fret

Today's stint at the prayer station reminded me of the line from Eponine's song in Les Mis, "Don't you fret, m'sieur Marius... a little drop of rain, can hardly hurt me now."  Also, the beginning of Psalm 37, "Fret not yourself."  I was fretting.  All week I've fretted.  Not in a losing sleep, pulling hair out kind of way, but in a "doggone it, I don't want to miss the prayer station" way.  Rain had been in the forecast all week, and I still hadn't figured out exactly where to be because I can't take the sign out in wet conditions or the ink will run.  Even taking it to another building wouldn't work.  So I was fretting and trying to figure out what I would do and where I would try to go.  I hoped that the rain would come over night, but no such luck.  90% chance.   

However, as I arrived on campus, there was no rain.  It had been raining, but it stopped.  So, I decided to take the sign over to the David Student Union where I put it in a dry spot just outside the doors.  When I got back with my chairs and bag of leftover Halloween candy and such, I discovered that it wasn't raining, so I spent the first hour just in front of the columns where I was quite visible.  When the rain started back up, I was able to tuck in between the columns under a bit of an overhang, and squeezed in another hour.  In a dry moment I carried the sign back to the chapel, and though the ink ran a bit, it wasn't too bad.  A few minutes later the rain started coming down in earnest.  I swung by my car, picked up my umbrella and headed into the coffee shop where it was warm and dry.

See, I didn't need to fret.  It all worked out.  And I'm so glad it did because I love being at the prayer station.  Today I got to have a chat with one of the Canterbury students about a cool sounding class called "Page, Stage, and Image" that will be offered next semester and involves Shakespeare.   I also enjoyed a conversation with my friend in Admissions who told me about her husband's mission trip to Uganda.  Several students who have asked for prayers before waved and smiled on their way to lunch, and one called out, "There's my favorite Reverend!"  It feels good to be recognized.  Once the rain had started, a student settled in for a good chat and left saying that his day just didn't suck so much anymore.  Sometimes that's a real bonus - having your day suck less.  He also suggested I learn to tweet, though I'm going to take a little more convincing. 

Time takes time, right, and a little drop of rain can hardly hurt me at all.  God provides.  It feels good to start being recognized on campus.  It feels good to provide a place of peace for various members of the CNU community.  It feels good to help people's days to suck a little less.  It feels good to have my own day brightened by my conversations and interactions with the students, even when it's raining.

Yesterday at SpiritWorks we learned of the death of a young man named Jason.  He was hit by a train in Williamsburg a couple of weeks ago.  Though I did not know him well, I had met him a few times.  He had a sweet spirit and a happy outlook on life despite being in and out of shelters   Addiction is a terrible and deadly disease, and it breaks my heart to see its impact, especially on young people.  I don't know how he came to be on a train track on the evening of October 23, but I do know that he will be missed, and I grieve his loss.

So today it was good for my soul to be present at the prayer station, not doing but being, listening to young people and praying for them, and being immersed in the life of a busy campus.  It was good to have time to be still and pray. 

I don't need to fret.  A little rain won't hurt the Plaza Prayer Station.  And truly, a little rain can hardly hurt Jason any more.  He doesn't feel any pain.  God's got him now. And rain will make the flowers grow.