In the past ten days I have been blessed with an abundance of meaningful work. It started on Ash Wednesday when I preached and celebrated the early morning service, spent some time at SpiritWorks, imposed ashes for a couple of hours in the Bruton Chapel, and assisted with the evening service. The next morning I helped make a presentation on behalf of SpiritWorks and made several pastoral care visits. That weekend I co-facilitated the Bruton Women's Lenten Retreat. Tuesday I had the early morning service and the nursing home service and more pastoral visits plus the afternoon at SpiritWorks. Wednesday was a relatively normal work day except for a visit to court to support a friend. Thursday saw pastoral care visits and planning and presenting the evening Lent forum talk on Contemplative Prayer. Yesterday I led a Women's Retreat in Norfolk on story telling.
Whew! By yesterday afternoon, when I had made the drive back to Williamsburg, I was a walking zombie. I laid down on the couch for "just a few minutes" before heading to dinner with Jan, and conked out for a half hour. Following a rich dinner with homemade coconut chocolate chip pecan ice cream for dessert, I decided to walk the labyrinth just to stretch my legs a bit and to wrap up the intense few days.
Once at the labyrinth, I started slowly onto the path, trying to release the work I had done, and thanking God for all the things going well. About a quarter of the way through the walk in, I felt agitated with exhaustion. I don't want to do this, I thought. I just want to go home. I also had to pee. You can't quit before you get to the center. If you want to stop then, fine, but you need to go at least that far.
So I kept walking, wondering if I could keep putting one foot in front of the other when all I wanted to do was lie down. When I got to the center, I stood there. Okay God. My well is dry. I need you to fill me back up, to restore me. I've got nothing left. As I stood there in the heart of the labyrinth, I heard some squawking and saw two Canadian geese flying west. When they got close to the labyrinth, they turned and started heading straight toward me. I ducked, though they probably wouldn't have hit me, but it looked like their flight path was lined up with my head. As I ducked they veered slightly upward and flapped over to the grass on the north side of the labyrinth where they landed.
You're not funny, God.
My mood lightened, and I decided to take the path all the way back out, instead of crossing over the lines. I knew it would take another ten to fifteen minutes, but I thought I could make it before I keeled over or my bladder burst. My step was a little lighter on the way out, and my shoulders felt less slumped. The sun was heading for the horizon, while streaks of clouds began to pinked. Golden light illuminated the upper bare branches of the sycamore tree on the south side of the labyrinth. I hunched a bit inside my coat as the chill air started me shivering.
Squawking began again, and I noticed the two geese had approached the labyrinth. They waddled to the other side of the eighteen inch cinder block wall between the street and the labyrinth. The wall obstructed the lower half of their bodies, but I could see their black heads with the white neck stripes above the wall. As I made a turn in the path, I looked over and the geese were gone! Where did they go? Then their heads popped back up. I giggled. After the next turn, I only saw one head. I stopped to watch. As if they were participating in some synchronized goose choreography, their heads bobbed up and down in time. I guessed they were looking for dinner but the black and white heads disappearing and reappearing from behind the low wall tickled me until I laughed out loud. The geese stopped squawking and both turned their heads to look right at me.
"Yes, I'm laughing at you," I replied to their curious looks. "But it's the gentlest, kindest sort of laughter."
As I walked, they continued their funny game of peek-a-boo until I saw only one head for some minutes. When I left the labyrinth, I had to check to make sure the other one was still there. I kept breaking out into laughter as I walked. When I emerged, I felt refreshed and renewed from my laughter and the delight of the bobbing geese.
Climbing into my car, I lingered, looking west at the sky that had begun to burn orange above the small herd of deer munching their evening meal of grass. The two geese remained between the labyrinth wall and the street, no longer interested in me but curiously searching the ground for whatever geese eat.
It was only later that I thought about the bobbing goose heads and wished I'd caught them on my camera. On the other hand, I'm glad I didn't even think of it, too present in the moment to worry about capturing it for later.
Sunday, March 17, 2019
Monday, January 7, 2019
Star Words for Epiphany
This year I hadn't considered resolutions or words until last week. I was preparing to preach for two baptisms at First Fridays, and I came across a post about star words. Now maybe I'd heard of them in passing, but I didn't remember them. From what I can tell, Presbyterian clergy seem to have started them. Star Words are given out on Epiphany. They are words written on a cut out star. Just as the magi followed a star to find Jesus and brought him gifts, so, too, we seek a closer relationship with the divine. Our word can be a guiding star during the year, a word to ponder in our hearts as Mary did with all that she saw and heard about Jesus. It can be a word we live into, that we use to connect us with God, to lead us deeper on our spiritual journey, to guide us into the new year ahead.
As I was journaling about star words, the word endurance popped into my head. So I wrote it down, thinking that was a good star word. Sometimes I can get worn out and give up, and it seemed that endurance might be good for me. Except that it made me a little tired just thinking about it. Then I moved into a listening to God exercise and the word I got then was gentle. Seemed at odds with the first word until I spoke with my spiritual director, and we put them together - gentle endurance.
On Friday night I created star words for the First Fridays congregation. We passed them out at the end of my sermon, but I had to wait until after the service to draw mine. Harmony. I like that word. Perhaps gentle + endurance = harmony. Looking forward to how these words will work on my life in the coming year. Happy Epiphany, everyone!
What word is choosing you in this new year full of possibility?
Monday, December 3, 2018
Advent I
And hope.
If I had given up after the first try, the candle would have remained unlit. But I had hope that if I just kept trying, the light would come.
Advent is like that. Waiting, hoping, keeping faith that the light will come. That the darkness will not overcome it.
When I was working in the theatre in my early thirties, I had the blessing of being unemployed several years during Advent. It may sound strange to call it a blessing, but it seemed that I always came down with a cold in December, and having time off from work allowed me to take care of my body. Being unemployed also meant that I had an abundance of time to sit quietly and reflect, to write, to read, to pray, to pay attention. Lack of employment also meant that I was poor, well, relatively speaking in 1st world terms, though still quite rich when compared with much of the rest of the world. I didn't have much disposable income, so I was forced to get creative with Christmas gifts and hand make as many as possible. I had to choose carefully the gifts I purchased in order to stretch my meager funds as far as I could. The luxury was that I had plenty of time to travel to be with family and friends and to share the gift of presence.
This year I am very meaningfully employed. I also have some unexpected expenses that are causing me to scale back on holiday spending. And I'm grateful. As I think about all the stuff that my friends and family have, I know that they don't need more from me. Instead I am scheming to spend more time being present – to other people, to myself, to God.
This Advent I am make a renewed commitment:
to resist the clarion call to deals and sales and to seek meaningful gifts from the heart,
to pray for the light that will pierce the darkness our world now experiences,
to stay awake to the pain and suffering of others instead of numbing myself with distractions,
to banish anxiety and despair and to cling to hope.
The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness does not overcome it. That is what we are waiting for this Advent and every Advent. The light that shines in the darkness. May it quickly come and remain kindled in our hearts.
Monday, November 12, 2018
Sermon for Sunday, November 11, 2018 - Highs and Lows
Highs and Lows
Anyone who’s participated in a group led by Deacon Jan or myself knows that we always begin with highs and lows. We go around the room and invite each person there to share something that’s going well and something that’s not going well. It brings everyone’s voice into the room and allows us to know what’s going on with each other, what’s alive for each person present there that day.
We don’t have time to do highs and lows for everyone here this morning. So, I’ll just mention a few that are on my mind and may be on yours. I’m going to start with the lows: the shooting that claimed 12 lives at the Borderline Bar and Grill in Thousand Oaks, California, the fires that have taken homes, lives, and whole towns in both southern and northern California, and the continued hostility in our country’s public discourse and politics.
Highs have included seeing the bags for the Thanksgiving food drive coming in, a win for William and Mary this weekend, and the large number of voters who turned out for the mid-term elections. Whether your candidate won or lost, I’m betting that a high for most of us since Tuesday has been the end of campaign ads.
There are also some historical highs and lows that we’re remembering this weekend. Friday night marked a true low, the 80thanniversary of Kristallnacht, the night in 1938 when a pogrom was carried out against the Jews in Germany, killing close to a hundred, destroying thousands of synagogues, cemeteries, and businesses, and sending 30,000 Jewish men to concentration camps.
An historical high is today, when we mark the 100thanniversary of the end of World War I. We’ll be ringing the tower bells just prior to the 11:00 service as part of an international initiative to celebrate when the guns went silent after years of war.
Even Veterans Day is a combined high and low. A low that we have not yet as human beings discovered ways to live peacefully with each other, and so our world is still marred by war. A high as we recognize the men and women who have been willing to serve and risk their lives to protect their country.
I’m sure each of you have your particular highs and lows today as well.
On Tuesday at the end of the Recovery Bible Study that we hold every week at SpiritWorks, I asked one of our community members if she had any thoughts to share with us about today’s gospel passage. She said, “Well, I just think Jesus was sharing his highs and lows.”
As I looked back at the passage, I chuckled. Yes, indeed. Jesus started with his low: the pride of the religious leaders of his time, who lorded it over others, strutting around in fine garments and taking the best seats, devouring widow’s houses, perhaps by convincing the women to give all they had to the temple.
Jesus ends with his high, turning his attention to one poor widow, among the crowds who are putting their offerings in the temple treasury. Many of them are making large contributions, but the one he points out to his disciples is the woman who puts in 2 small coins, a pittance, but all that she has.
Now there are two ways that this passage tends to be interpreted by people like me who wear long robes and stand in pulpits and have the best seats in the church. The first is to suggest that Jesus is holding up the poor woman with her two coins as an example for sacrificial giving, and that we need to do the same.
A second popular interpretation is to suggest that Jesus is criticizing the temple system of his time. According to Torah, the Jewish people were required to look after the poor, the widow, and the orphan. But these scribes aren’t doing that. The poor widow shouldn’t be in a place where she only has two coins to give because the very institution that she’s giving them to should be taking care of her.
My guess is that Jesus is doing both things – lamenting that the system is unjust for the widow, the orphan, and the poor, andlifting up the poor woman’s gift as more favorable than the gifts of others because of her willingness to give her all.
So what are we to do with this story? It seems unlikely that any of us are going to give everything we own to the church. As much as it’s tempting to make this a stewardship sermon, I don’t think Jesus pointed out the widow to his disciples in order to inspire or guilt his followers two thousand years later into giving more to the church. Of course it is good to give to the church!
Or perhaps we’re supposed to be motivated to work for more just systems for the poor of our time. As Christians we’re always supposed to be doing our part for those who have less than we do, for those who are oppressed for those who are on the margins. But I can’t help wondering if there’s another message here.
Jesus sees. He sees the Temple and its flaws. He sees the pride and the power of the scribes. He sees the crowd giving out of their abundance. He sees the widow. He sees her in her poverty. And he sees her giving everything she has. Just as he will give everything a few days down the road when he dies by the hand of the same systems and institutions that are oppressing her.
Out of all the people at the Temple that day, Jesus notices this woman and points her out so that the disciples will see her too. This particular person, in this particular place, making this particular offering.
Perhaps we’re not called to be like the widow. Perhaps we are called to seethe widow. Not as a generic “person over there” who needs our help or our pity. But as a fellow human being on this earth, another beloved child of God who deserves to be seen and known, just as we do. An individual person with needs and wants, with highs and lows. David Lose says, “Championing ‘the poor’ is one thing; knowing the name and taking the time to care about, a specific person who has very little is another thing all together.”[1]
Sisters and brothers, how many people a day do we pass by and not see?
How much of the violence and hatred and hurt and pain in this world is caused because people don’t feel seen or heard?
We’ve all had times when we weren’t seen or heard; it feels awful.
What can we do to make sure that we see and hear those whom we encounter? It doesn’t take great wealth to do that.
It doesn’t take power.
It doesn’t take influence.
It takes pausing our own headlong rush through life, looking away from all our distractions, lifting our heads up from our own needs and wants, in order to really see those around us. To listen to their highs and lows, to hear their struggles and their joys, to understand their particular needs and desires.
Jesus does that for us. He sees each one of us. Our flaws and gifts. Our pride and our poverty. Our needs and our wants. He sees us and loves us.
As Jesus’ disciples, we are called to notice others.
See them. Hear them. Love them.
And then perhaps one day, our high every week will be hearing the ringing of the bells of peace instead of the guns of war.
The bells that call us to worship.
The bells that call us to freedom.
The bells that call us to the joy of walking with our Savior in the way of love.
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| Veterans ringing the Bruton Tower Bell at 11:00am on 11/11/18 |
Saturday, September 8, 2018
Ten Favorite Books - Who Can Choose?
Let's face it, I love books, always have, always will. It's too hard to pick out my favorites. The bookshelves pictured are just some of the ones in my house. They don't include the ones in my two offices or any of the piles of books or the books I read but never bought. These bookshelves mostly contain my favorite books. Who can choose?
What's been interesting is how many of the books that stick out as my favorites were ones that I read as a child. Whenever I go to used book stores or sales, I always check the children's section. Most of Alexander Key is no longer in print - will I find one of his books that someone has finally let go of? Will I find the books by authors whose names I no longer remember but whose covers I can still see in my head? Will I finally find those books I checked out of the library in the next town over and loved but never saw again? Sometimes I do, and I scoop them up and spend time with characters half-remembered. At last year's Bruton Parish Book Sale, I found Fog Magic, The Westing Game, and Five Children and It. Delight filled me as I revisited those stories. You'd think with all the books I haven't read that I wouldn't spend time returning to the ones I have - but there's something marvelous about dipping back into a story that I loved as a child.
Those stories from my childhood and teen years have shaped me in ways that I can't even articulate. Always the battles between good and evil, the stories of the heroic quest, the tales about learning to believe in oneself. That's why I tend toward science fiction and fantasy - there's something archetypal in many of those stories that speaks to my soul. The other surprise was that no books of theology made it to the list. Nothing from seminary, though I did consider No Future Without Forgiveness by Desmond Tutu and Take This Bread by Sara Miles. I walked around looking at all my shelves searching for something that I just had to include. I saw the favorites my clergy colleagues posted, and I wondered what was wrong with me. I knew I wasn't a scholar, but hmmm... I'm embarrassed to say that when I first began discerning whether I had a call to ordination, I wrote in my journal, "How can I be a priest? I'd rather read science fiction than the Bible." I'm sure that's not the right thing to say, but it was honest.
I finally decided that I would pick 10 books that had stayed with me for a long time. And then I gave myself 3 extra. Because as much as I love to read fiction, as dearly as I love to burrow under the covers with a tale of magic and far-off worlds, I cannot imagine my life without William Shakespeare, The Book of Common Prayer, and the Bible. Talk about the ultimate story of good and evil. It surprised me how much thinking time I've given to this little game. Playing has made me want to go back and reread many of my favorites. But there are four books on my bed and four more on the bedside table. Guess I'd better keep moving along.
If you haven't gotten to play the game yet, go ahead. Ten favorite books. See if you can do it. I might have to play again. Ten more. And then ten more after that. And then ten more after that...
Saturday, July 28, 2018
49! And Going Strong
For awhile now I have been struggling with what I suppose to be peri-menopausal symptoms that mostly affect my mood. Anxiety/agitation takes over my body, making me feel like I'm crawling out of my skin. Depression/hopelessness drags me down, making everything seem difficult. Fatigue saps my energy and causes me to feel like I'm struggling through molasses to get up in the morning and then frequently overtakes me during the day. Some days I just put one foot in front of the other. I've tried many things with varying degrees of success, but recently the fatigue and roller coaster emotions have really been tough. Thursday I went to Acupuncture Works for my first session of acupuncture, at the recommendation of my therapist. I hate needles, and I've been known to pass out when giving blood. But I've been so miserable that I was willing to try anything.
They say acupuncture doesn't hurt, and it's true. Mostly. I did feel a little prick from a couple of the needles, but only briefly, and not enough to be upsetting. With a lavender eye mask over my closed eyes, resting comfortably with pillows supporting my head and knees, I felt like I was floating. I drifted into what I call "lala land," a place that is almost sleep, but not quite - a place that I imagine some people experience in meditation but I almost never do. I floated there, head chatter fading after a few minutes, feeling a deep, peaceful rest. When the session was over, I felt spacey. That evening I was a little off, going through short spurts of moods, even while I was walking the labyrinth.
Then came what I consider a minor miracle. Or maybe not so minor. On Friday morning I woke up before my alarm and had energy! I don't realize how poorly I'm feeling until I feel good again. And yesterday was truly remarkable. I had energy all day. Even with all the cake and other sweets that I ate! All week I had felt like I was running on the last wisps of fumes of fuel in my tank. Today I also woke up with energy. I am so grateful.
I love birthdays. I always have. It's the one day we get to celebrate ourselves and how amazing it is that God put us here on this earth. It's our own personal new year's day. I've never been one to hide from or dread birthdays. (There was some grief at 40 when I realized I was probably not going to have children, so that one was bittersweet.) I embrace them. I am 49, almost half a century. Thanks be to God. My birthday wish is that all of us find joy in each day and love each other well. May we all know the love of the one who created us and spread that love with abandon. And may we all wake up with energy and purpose, facing our challenges and blessings with grace and returning to sleep each night with gratitude in our hearts.
Thursday, May 10, 2018
Nifty Fifty
We started getting donations on May 7. Which was fun. The contest was set to run from midnight to 11:59 p.m. on May 8, and only online donations made during that time counted toward prizes. Early donations didn't help win prizes, and we didn't care. We were just happy to receive them. We started texting each other and some of our volunteers every time a donation came in. We were like children on Christmas Eve, unwrapping a few presents early, saying, "Did you see that one?" At 10:00 p.m. I decided I would try to stay awake until midnight just to see what it was like. And so I could make my donation to kick us off. I logged in, answered a few questions, entered my info, and voila! When I checked our donation status, we had our first one from another state. NY! A former parishioner was up at midnight and helped us out with our first state outside of VA. After a couple more donations came in, I realized that I needed to sleep so I would be able to maintain my enthusiasm the next day.
I woke up about 6:30 and immediately picked up my phone to see where we were. By the time I headed into SpiritWorks, Jan and Lynn, our Volunteer Coordinator, had already started drawing boxes around states and checking them off. We began what would be hours of watching donations come in mixed with emailing and calling friends in other states to ask if they would make just a tiny $10 donation so that we could count their state in. A few people donated on behalf of their home states, which was fun, even though we couldn't technically count them unless they came in from that state. Still, every dollar raised would help us in our work. SpiritWorks' community members were on their cell phones, calling family and friends. People in recovery sent messages about how much life in recovery meant to them and thanking us for our work. The $10 donations were rolling in, and we cheered with each new donor and each new state. It felt like election night when your candidate is winning.
We also had donations coming in of higher amounts. Including a $1000 check that we went and picked up. Didn't count for the contest, but boy did it count for SpiritWorks. Our eyes started leaking a bit around the corners as we saw each name, some known and beloved, some unknown and greatly appreciated for their willingness. "Did you see that this person donated?" we would ask each other. "Go mark that state!" we would tell the person nearest the flip chart. Some came in anonymously so we didn't know what state they were from, so we doubled up on some states to make sure we had them.
At 3:00 I left to drive to North Carolina to stay with a friend before attending a writing conference starting the next day. Periodically I called to check in on the status, tempted to look at my phone but knowing I needed to keep my eyes on the road. I set my phone down while eating dinner and visiting with my friends so that I wouldn't be distracted. My phone buzzed with more texts than I've ever gotten in a single day as Jan and company tried to eke out every possible state. For me, friends from seminary, high school, college, and church responded to my plea.
I had intended to go to sleep so that I would be rested for my conference, but I couldn't help it. I had to see if we would win the prize. At 11:00 Peninsula Community Foundation posted a picture showing that we were in the lead by 1 state. Iowa and Hawaii came in after that, but we had no idea if anyone had jumped ahead. At some point in the evening we passed our $5000 goal and our 75 donors. As far as I was concerned, the event was a complete success, whether we won the prize or not. At midnight I began checking the prize page and refreshing it over and over. All of a sudden, there it was. Nifty Fifty prize - SpiritWorks!!! I texted the others, a few of whom had fallen asleep after their long day of exertion. I couldn't believe it. We met and surpassed all of our goals, and won our prize. In the end we had over $7700 and over 100 donors.
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| Daisy thanks you too! |
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