Watching from the Edge

On the edge.  That's a description of how I realized I felt while sitting at Starbucks the other day. I watched people walk by, and realize that I sit on the edge. I don't mean on the edge as in an anxious place, but on the edge of a group. For much of my life, I have tended to sit and observe.  I don't automatically feel a part of a group, and so find myself surprised when drawn in or included by others. I observe as others speak and interact. I wonder about their lives, what makes them tick, why they act or react as they do. I even observe myself, offering critique while I speak, wondering why I act or react as I do. I gauge what I am saying, and what response there is, making modifications in the moment.

Maybe this is a part of what contributes to my style of leadership. I don't see myself as stepping ahead of a group, leading a charge. While that is a legitimate type of leadership and works for some people, and even on occasion for me, I see myself more at work listening—both to God and to people-- gathering information, sensing call and direction. I test the waters, refining and making modifications in the very midst of testing.

Snipping away parts of folded paper to make a snowflake—this belongs, that

doesn’t. Weaving free-form without a pattern or preset design—choosing what colors work together now, not then.

I know this style of working and leadership can drive straightforward people up the wall at times, as I confess it can me as well, but there are times when we truly need to wait and see where it is that God’s Spirit is leading, and knowing even as we wait that it will be good because it is of God.

As I look to the new year beginning, I know it is a year of discernment for me. I will watch, observe and listen to see how God’s Spirit is leading me. I pray time and patience for you as well in the year to come.

Matthew 24:36

But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.

Where Is Joy When the Darkness Presses In?

Joy. Raucous Joy. Quiet Joy. Weeping Joy. Deep Joy.

This past Sunday was the third in Advent, the day when the scripture readings speak of Joy. Zephaniah exhorts: “Sing aloud, O daughter Zion; shout, O Israel! Rejoice and exult with all your heart, O daughter Jerusalem!” (Zeph 3:14) Isaiah proclaims: “With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation…Shout aloud and sing for joy, O royal Zion, for great in your midst is the Holy One of Israel.” (Is 12:3, 6)  Paul urges: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.” (Phil 4:4)

“Joy, right!” The world scoffs in scorn, “Look around you, foolish Christians, don’t you see there is no reason for joy--children and teachers shot down; mothers and fathers weeping. And while they sob, our politicians point fingers at each other, accusing the other of recalcitrance, of stubbornness, of willfully abandoning care for the people of our nation. And you say, ‘Rejoice!’ Bah! What reason do we have for joy?”

I am no fool. I am not blind. I see and I hear what is going on around me. I too feel how the darkness presses in. I know the darkness a bit too intimately. I am still stumbling around in my life trying to walk as one where there were two. I ache for my boys as they encounter their own grief and pain. Sometimes we look around us and wonder where is there hope, how can there be a future.

In the midst of this pressing darkness, a light breaks in, flaring up as when Megan and Maclain lit the third candle, holding steady, refusing to be extinguished. The light of the candle can be blown out, but that which it represents cannot. The light of God is not subject to the vicissitudes of our lives. Sometimes our eyes are closed; sometimes our vision is blurred and we find it hard to see the light. God’s light shines in the darkness, and the darkness shall not overcome it.

Bullets cannot wipe it out. Fiscal cliffs cannot end it. Death cannot destroy it. And thus in the midst of the darkness, I cling to the light; I cling to the deep joy and pray that I will allow it to grow within me.

[Recommended reading: “God can’t be kept out” by Rachel Held Evans.]

John 1:5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

Community in Silence

Today I sat in mostly silent prayer with two women who awe me with their faith and trust. In silence, not talking with one another, yet we were in community. We were connected to each other through the One who was at our center. After all these years, I still find myself amazed at this mystery.

I used to find silence awkward, needing to fill it. Maybe I needed to fill it in order to justify my presence, or maybe because words could fill the space as a kind of protective suit. And yet, today I felt no need of a protective suit, no need to justify my presence. I could simply sit in community, in silence.

From outside came the noises of children excitedly taking rides on a Santa train; also the loud noises of construction boomed their way across two parking lots. We could hear those sounds inside, and yet even they called us to prayer, reminding us of how connected we are to all of God’s children.

The heartbeat of God our center connects us in a circle of prayer, and broadens that circle to include persons we have never seen and will most likely never meet. How could it be otherwise with the God of all creation who came to be with us as one of us, and whose Spirit lives in us now and always?

Matthew 18.20:

“For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.”

Dark. Simplicity. Silence.

Different images are weaving their way through my spirit this week. “Studying the dark” is this week’s theme in an online Advent retreat I am doing; We are reading and talking about simplicity in our Wednesday night group. We gathered for silent prayer this morning in the Chapel. Dark… Simplicity... Silence...

These images weave their way around my head and my heart, through my spirit. In the dark, sometimes there is fear, but also there is nurturing dark that allows a seed, an idea to germinate. In the dark, I wait for healing sleep. In the dark, I am held in God’s embrace. In the dark, I have a longing for simplicity, for singleness of eye and heart, for the one Good above all good. In the dark, there is silence, silence that is lonely, silence that is full, silence held cupped in my upturned hands.

In the dark, there is room for God to come with hope. In the simplicity, there is space for God to move with joy. In the silence, there are ears to hear God’s music resound.

Dark…. Simplicity… Silence…

Psalm 62.5

For God alone my soul waits in silence, for my hope is from him.

The Best Laid Plans

In 1786, the Scot poet Robert Burns turned up a mouse’s nest while plowing a field. He wrote a poetic apology to the mouse:

“But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane [you aren't alone]


In proving foresight may be vain:


The best laid schemes o' mice an' men


Gang aft a-gley, [often go awry] 


An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,


For promised joy.”

How often that feels true to me! I make plans, considering all sorts of details, and then find that I have to reconsider it all because of some unforeseen circumstance. I do find a big difference in how I handle those unforeseen circumstances now than in the past. Part of that difference comes from having more experience. Part of it comes from making a choice to think more about things than simply react. Of course, I don’t do this perfectly by any means. I can still come close to blowing a gasket--at least it feels that way at times.

The Teacher in Ecclesiastes considers all he has done and finds that it is vanity—a chasing after the wind. Sometimes it does feel like that. All my plans are for naught, especially if I make them thinking that it must happen as I engineer it. That would be vanity, a chasing after the wind.

I don’t believe that God throws a monkey wrench into the plans I make, but I do think that when I have to step back and reconsider the situation, I can often find a deeper sense of God’s presence, and a new way to view what I consider to be an inconvenience. This happens in small situations where a plan to get a ride falls through. It happens in a much larger arena as I still work on re-thinking what my life is going to be like without my partner. Even in the midst of loss and pain, in God’s presence, I can find joy.

Ecclesiastes 3:1

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.

Taking Time to Discern

I have tended to have a rule of thumb about making purchases, though I confess it’s harder, though not impossible, to keep when shopping online. When I have seen something that catches my eye, I often won’t purchase it right away, unless it’s for something that has a deadline—not the item, but what it’s for. I might even go back to see it several times. If it’s not there, then that seals the decision that I won’t buy it. More often than not, I decide not to buy it. It’s part of a discernment process. It’s when I haven’t followed that rule of thumb that I tend to have regrets about making a purchase.

I have a similar discernment style about other decisions as well. I begin to sense a call about something. I have to mull it over, come back to it several times, before I can get a really clear view of what I should do. Sometimes the decision is taken out of my hands because an opportunity has passed by before I acted on it, and that is generally okay. Perhaps it becomes the road not taken, but the road I do take seems richer for the time that was spent waiting.

This week I had a conversation with someone who senses a call that he or she wants to answer, and yet at the same time finds herself or himself apparently reluctant to embrace the call fully. The time spent waiting could be seen as trying to avoid the risk of a new venture. That time could also be seen as weighing the call, allowing it to define itself more fully.

I believe strongly that there can be multiple good roads to take, calls to answer, and that God’s blessings can work through whichever one is taken. That is something for which to be thankful.

Proverbs 1:5-6

Let the wise also hear and gain in learning, and the discerning acquire skill, to understand a proverb and a figure, the words of the wise and their riddles.

One Thing Amid Distractions

Today on my walk I reflected on Monday’s walk and how I became distracted from my purposeful stride, stopping at least twice for conversation, making me late for the rest of the day's work. Sometimes my life gets really full and I need to be reminded of what Jesus told Martha—that she was distracted by many things, and that Mary, in sitting at his feet, had chosen the better part, to be single of focus, to be mindful of the one thing that is needed. This brings peace and lightness to me as I imagine myself in Mary’s place, not distracted by the many things in the way.

Just before Jesus came to Martha’s house, he told a story in answer to a lawyer’s question about who was his neighbor. Robbers fall upon a man traveling the road to Jericho from Jerusalem. The man is beaten and left half dead on the road. Two men, a priest and a Levite, passed him by. A Samaritan helped him. Anyone traveling this road needed to be alert and aware, mindful, for it was dangerous as the first man found out. The priest and Levite were each mindful; they had duties in and around the Temple for which they needed to be ritually clean. Helping the victim would have distracted them from their purpose for traveling, and so they passed by. The Samaritan had to have a purpose for traveling that dangerous road, and so he was needful and mindful as well, but as he came upon the victim, he did not pass by but took time and effort to help.

Ah, to sit at Jesus’ feet and look upon his face in rapt attention, this is what I need. I look into his eyes, and there I see myself reflected, but as I look more closely, I see others reflected there as well. In sitting with Jesus, I find that I am called to be in relationship with those I see there. The priest and the Levite were needful of one thing, and they weren’t distracted from their purpose, leaving a man wounded. The Samaritan enlarged his singular gaze to see and help the wounded man. My conversational “distractions” on Monday allowed me to see people who were reflected in Jesus’ eyes and become aware of their wounds and need for care. I was able to continue on my journey--my walk—offering them into God’s care for healing and wholeness, and to look even more deeply in Jesus’ eyes and find peace.

Luke 10:41-42

But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”

What It Is All About

Oh, how easy it is to be sucked into the vortex of anxiety. The closer the election came, the harder it was to remember to live the words I had written. All the hype--the FaceBook postings, the phone calls, the mailings—were each annoying, but they added to each other. And I would think about what it would mean if the other candidate were elected. The nagging of anxious ants crept into my place, and I let them push me out of my center.

I was forgetting something very important. I don’t mean I really forgot, but I certainly wasn’t remembering with my full awareness. God’s will is not about this candidate or that candidate. While I believe that God cares about us in each particular moment, it is arrogant to assume that any one of us at any moment is able to claim that we know the fullness of God’s will and that we will make it happen.

The night of the election, I was reading Hannah’s Child: A Theologian’s Memoir, by Stanley Hauerwas. Towards the end of the book, he writes about the response in our nation to the attacks of 9/11/01. Many had said that the events of that day forever changed our lives, and while there is no denying that the loss of our naiveté has launched us into a whirl of rhetoric and war, Stanley reminds us “that Jesus' death on the cross forever changed all that exists, including us.”[i]

I read those words, and my center, or my awareness of it, returned. Today I wrote to thank him:

In the midst of the latter days of this anxious election season, I found great hope and solace in your book. Any control we seem to have or any lack of control that makes us anxious is all an illusion. This whole endeavor of life is lived with the aegis of our God who is the One who brought us into being, who came into our midst to redeem us and who calls to us without end into the purposeful grace of God’s reign.

Election night, I went to bed without knowing how any state’s status was declared and didn’t learn any results until I woke the next morning. Neither re-elected President Obama nor a potential Romney presidency would or will bring about the kingdom of God. God’s kingdom is already among us and near at hand. Our job is live and worship as though the One we worship makes all the difference in the world, regardless of what the world might think. And that is what it is all about.

---

[i] (Stanley Hauerwas. Hannah's Child: A Theologian's Memoir (Kindle Location 3777). Kindle Edition.)

In the End

“The only good thing about the storm is that it was a break from all the campaign stuff,” I heard someone say this week. This person was obviously fed up with hearing and seeing so much about the election. I too have been fed up, and I don’t even watch TV. This has been the most contentious and expensive campaign that I have witnessed. There is a lot at stake in very different visions for our nation. I have found it hard not to be caught up in the anxiety that is rife and building ever higher.

I am not neutral in this match by any means. While I don’t plan to move out of the country if the other candidate is elected, it is hard to keep the longer view in mind. And I’m not talking about the longer view that is until the next election cycle, or the next decade or even the next century. I mean the longer and larger view that is God’s. When I was in college, I talked with my professor on the History of Christian Thought, David Bailey Harned. I was trying to understand the concept of predestination. Harned’s words have stayed with me all these years—“In the end, God’s will will be done.”

“In the END, God’s Will will be done.” That matters a great deal to me. It doesn’t mean that each event that occurs now aligns itself with God’s Will, but that in the broad scope and in the final analysis, God has the final say. I am also reminded that God can take what evil is done and bring about good from it. From the death of Christ on the cross, God wrought great good for all creation.

And so my anxiety pales in the long view. That is not to say that my vote, and your vote don’t matter. That is not say that every piece of either candidates’ vision for our nation is a part of bringing God’s kingdom here on earth. It is to say that my greatest trust cannot be in any party or position. My greatest and deepest trust must be in the One who set all Creation into motion, who cares deeply, and who calls it forward with purpose. When I feel my anxiety rise, I need to stop and breathe deeply of the Spirit who has given me life.

Romans 8:26-28

Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.

What We Remember

In a trial, eyewitnesses are often produced as bringing irrefutable evidence that a certain event happened. Verdicts are sometimes based on what an eyewitness has said. It is important to hear this evidence, but we have to remember that different eyewitnesses of the same event can report various versions based on their perspective, their preconceived notions and even what they hear afterwards. It’s not that they are lying; it is that they see and understand things differently.

I recall several occasions growing up when I talked about a memory and my mother said that it didn’t happen, or at least not in the way I remembered it. I was just as certain in my memory as she was. Was either of us lying? I don’t think so. We each processed events through our own experience. In recalling the past, our own story is shaped in some ways by our desires, and our understanding of what is meaningful for us.

At various times, I have looked back through my life and what I know of my family trying to understand how I grew to be who I am. Each time I look back, I have a slightly different perspective because of what I have learned before and because of the particular lens through which I am looking. When I worked with a Jungian analyst, dreams and symbols throughout my life figured largely. Now that I am looking through the lens of Bowen Family Systems Theory, I see how my family tended to deal with stress and anxiety. Neither story is wrong; they each bring a different perspective.

I think I am still too close to events of the last few years with Jeff to be able to see very clearly. When I am trying to “read the story,” different angles affect the plot line. Is it the story of our love, or the story of answering different calls? Is it cast through our roles as parents—both wannabe and for real? Some of the story lines bring me great joy; some are reminders of pain. They are equally true. They are all a part of our life together.

They are each a factor in who I have come to be, but my past is not the sole determination of who I am, and what my story is. The future and the purpose to which I am called have as much or more to do with my story. The proof of the pudding will be when I stand in awe and worship with the veil removed and see my Creator and Redeemer face to face. Then I will understand what is most important about my story. Until that time I have to be content with an image seen in a mirror.

1 Corinthians 13:12

For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.

Centered, Not Fearing

On Tuesday night, I attended an interfaith dinner. The speakers—Catholic, Protestant, Jewish and Muslim—all spoke about serving God and serving humanity. It was clear that each of us does this best from the position of our own faith tradition. Our goal is not to water down our beliefs to find the least common denominator between ourselves and others, but to be firmly grounded and keep our eyes, ears and hearts open to see the best in the other who is grounded in their own faith.

I was reminded of when Fr. Flavian Burns, former Abbot of Holy Cross Abbey in Berryville told us of when Buddhist monks came for dialogue with the Trappist monks. The Christians in seeking to be hospitable to the Buddhists were tending to downplay their own faith tradition. The leader of the Buddhists said that the best and deepest dialogue would happen when they each spoke from the center of their own tradition.

I also remember learning that those who are closest to the center of their tradition often find that they have more in common with others who are close to the center of a different faith than either have in common with those who are at the edges of their own tradition. Perhaps this is because it is at the edges where often the most extreme positions are found.

At this time of deep division and distrust between people of different persuasions, whether religious, ethnic, national or political, I am convicted of my own tendency to look with disdain and disrespect toward others coming from a different perspective. I do this every time I look at signs for candidates other than those I support and sneer, at least inwardly. Is this how I learn to live and act in the hesed—everlasting mercy of God? Probably not, I think.

I will try in the remaining days of this campaign season not to sneer but to hold the other in the light of God’s mercy. And instead of living in disdain, or even fear, of those who believe differently than I do, I will seek to remember that they are also the children of the God who I believe is the Creator of all.

Matthew 22:37-39

He said to him, “’You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’

Role and Soul

I spent two days and nights this week at the first of five retreats that will take place over the course of twelve months. These retreats are a time away to reflect and discern. My hope is that these times of reflection and discernment will help deepen my spirit in order to serve more joyfully and fully. Every once in a while I may share some of my reflections that come through the course of this journey as I do today.

On Tuesday morning we were asked to reflect on keeping “role” and “soul” connected. This was part of my written reflection:

“My role is to point myself and others to the One (God) who is the Source, who is Love. In a sense, in my role as pastor/proclaimer, I have to gather in attention onto me but it is not to stay on me. As a guide, I say, ‘look, see, worship, adore.’ Sometimes, I can get in the way. It is tempting to gather the attention and allow it to rest on me, to receive the kudos and keep them for myself. When that happens the relationship is aborted; I am not serving as a midwife to invite birth into a living relationship between the other and the Source. In this I need to guard my spirit from hungering for and desiring praise.  I need to take time sit with the Source--open my ears, my eyes, my heart to hear the music in the silence and then allow the beat/rhythm/melody of the music to infuse my spirit.”

Friends

This week I went with the staff to a workshop on ministry with the poor. During one video clip, Claudio, a pastor in Brazil, talks about theologians defining poverty—a lack of money, of food, of clothes, of housing. Then he posits a situation in which they are told they have lost absolutely everything—all possessions, money, home, family, job, everything. He asks: how long would it be before you could find food? A place to sleep? Work? The answers were minutes to find food; hours to find a place to sleep; and a week or two to find work. Claudio tells them that they are not poor. What the poor lack are friends, and relationships where others help you out.        

Even in the times I have been most alone, and felt the most lost, I have known that I have friends. It is hard to imagine a life without friends, folks who have my back, who are there when I am in need. What poverty it would be to have no one!

While it vital to give material goods—food, shelter, clothing, and more--it is the relationship that is most important. That’s what John Cook of L’Arche said as well when we talked about residences for persons with intellectual disabilities. Offering assistance is important, but the greatest gift is to walk along side someone, to let them know they are seen, and that they are not alone. I am reminded of The Servant Song: “Brother, sister, let me serve you, let me be as Christ to you; pray that I may have the grace to let you be my servant too.”[i]

I give thanks for friends who have walked the miles with me over the years, giving up a mission trip to be with me when Jeff died; coming to lead Jeff’s service when recovering from surgery; dropping off a meal en route to the airport to travel across the country. I pray that I can be Christ to them, but also to those who would never expect anything of me.

1 John 3:17

How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help?

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[i] ©1977 Scripture in Song; by Richard Gillard.

Swirling Thoughts

As I sit to write, my mind doesn’t focus on any one thing. So many things are swirling around.

--On Tuesday, I had to work very hard not to let someone’s rudeness affect my attitude towards him, and then towards others. I was tempted to be rude in return, but managed to pray silently for God’s mercy for him.

--For my birthday, I decided not to wait to see if my sons would remember and do something. I invited them out for dinner. If I want to be together, then I need to take the initiative.

--And then today, I am overwhelmed by how fragile life is. A thirteen year-old boy just getting involved in a church youth group was killed along with his sixteen year-old brother and his mother. What would lead a father to take the lives of his family and then his own? What was the pain that took away hope and led to violence and destruction?

At the seminary today, for our devotion a student read the Beatitudes in Matthew from two different versions. In the TNIV, verse 4 reads “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” In The Message, it reads “You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.”

I think about the father at the end of his rope for whatever reason and wish he could have known the embrace of the One who is there when all else feels lost. I pray that the relatives and friends of this family can know God’s embrace in the midst of the shattering pain and grief. I pray for the young youth leader who spoke with the younger son just hours before his unexpected death. I pray for the pastors and congregation who must offer God’s embrace in the midst of their own pain and grief.

In the midst of swirling thoughts this day, the still point for me is God’s mercy, God’s embrace. As we grieve those we have lost, embrace us, Lord.

Matthew 5:4, 7

“You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.”

“You’re blessed when you care. At the moment of being ‘care-full,’ you find yourselves cared for.

The Wind Blows

I stood at the window this week and watched the trees being whipped by the wind. It would come in great gusts that shook the branches, and then it would die down, only to roar back through. I saw the trunk of the mighty oak out back sway back and forth. Already one large branch was down and several sticks were scattered around the yard. This is the oak that is part of the name of our house—Mary Grace Oaks (Mary Grace for my mother). I find significance in this tree. Fortunately, the storm passed with no more damage done.

The day after Jeff died, our neighbor came to the door to tell me a branch from the oak had fallen in her back yard. It hadn’t done any damage, but she wanted me to take care of it. I told her about Jeff and she said they would take care of it. While I know that in Virginia I am not liable for branches that fall from my tree into someone else’s yard, I was concerned about it. Our neighbor has a day care in our home. I did not want a branch to fall and hurt a child, so last Fall I had all my trees cleared of as much dead wood and risky branches as possible. Then the derecho blew through on my brother’s birthday at the end of June. While we lost no trees, we did lose a lot of healthy branches that fell next to and onto our neighbor’s fence.

As I reflect on the power of wind and the havoc it can wreak, I am also mindful of the wind as an image Jesus used about the Spirit. We can’t see the wind itself; we just see what it moves. We can’t see the Spirit, but if we are mindful we can see the effects of it in our lives and in the lives of others. It can be difficult to discern where the Spirit is in the midst of the havoc that the wind creates. Right now, I am trying to discern what I need to do about this beautiful mighty oak in my backyard. It is strong and can withstand a great deal, but my neighbor is anxious.

As many branches have fallen in our lives over the past couple of years, requiring discernment and decisions, this one seems symbolic of all the rest. How is the God’s Spirit moving over the face of the deep?

John 3:7-8

Do not be astonished that I said to you, ‘You must be born from above.’ The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.”

Not a Tow Truck nor a Helicopter

Talking with another mom this week, we both shared stories of how we sometimes fall into the trap of dealing with our kids’ difficulties for them. She told of how a child told their mother something about her child, and then the mother spoke with her about it, asking her to speak with her child rather than getting the children to speak with one another about their conflict. Of course, when our children are very small, there are many things we need to take care of for them. As they grow, however, there is more that they can and should handle on their own.

A lot of ink has been used in articles about “helicopter parents” who hover over their children’s lives making sure to smooth every difficulty. Like nearly every other parent, I want my boys to do well, to not have to face too many problems, but the reality is they have to learn to deal with tough situations. I have made many mistakes in my years as a parent. I have been learning better to give them space. I can’t soothe all wounds and smooth all rough places, and I shouldn’t.

I find helpful the metaphor of God as the One who sits on the curb next to us as we wait for the tow truck to come. God is not the tow truck. God is not the knight in shining armor who comes to rescue us. God is in the trenches with us. And that’s how I want to be with my sons, as well as with others in my life.

It’s hard work as a parent to watch our children struggle and sometimes fail, but the reward for them is so much greater when they learn that they have the ability to figure many problems out on their own. It is the work of a lifetime to find the balance of when and how to help and when and how to let go. God offers us grace but doesn’t make us accept it. God allows us to make mistakes along the way, but is always there to encourage us on the journey.

Relationships are what it’s all about really

Relationships are what it’s all about really. That was what I took away from my breakfast meeting with a new acquaintance. We met so I could get some advice on how to proceed as we (C²UMC and I) explore a possible risk-taking mission for us—a residence for persons with Intellectual Disabilities. While John, the director of L’Arche in Arlington, gave me tips on aspects we need to consider, he emphasized that the most important consideration is how the congregation wants to be in relationship with the potential residents. Other entities can provide services. What we can do best is in the area of relationship.

This is true in so much of life, all of it really in my way of thinking. Last night, as several young adults and I talked further about finding purpose in our work lives, for many it’s the relationship with co-workers and others that helps to make the biggest difference. That’s what makes it all worthwhile for me—the people with whom I am privileged to work.

That’s what I see modeled in the Trinity—a holy mutual relationship, one that is most concerned with the other, pouring out grace upon grace, inviting and welcoming others into the relationship. I see that lived out around me in so many ways—in how Matt greets me with a hug and often a kiss; in how Barbara makes quilts for babies she will never see; in how Bill searches for someone to repair a windshield that doesn’t belong to him; in how Bridget welcomes hurricane survivors into her home. This is no theoretical idea. This is flesh and blood, and Holy Spirit relationship. That’s what it is all about, really.

2 Corinthians 5:18-19

All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us.

Becoming a Mother

Twenty-two years ago today, I became a mother. In one way, my “gestation” was only five weeks. In another way, it was nine and a half long years.

Even though, we had no legal rights at that time, our pediatrician had us scrub up while she went down to the OR. We waited for the sound of the squeaky wheels we had heard as babies were taken from the nursery to their mothers. We were on pins and needles as we listened, wanting to see “our” baby rolled by us into the nursery. Suddenly the doctor rounded the corner carrying a bundle in her arms. She walked right into the room, up to me, saying, “He’s beautiful, Mommy,” and placed Andrew in my arms.

What joy Jeff and I knew that night! I carried him into the nursery. Jeff gave him his first bath. Andrew wouldn’t close his eyes. Even when the nurse put the eye drops in, he blinked his eyes open. He was ready to take a look at this new world of his.

Through an “entrustment,” we were allowed to take Andrew home when he was only 24 hours old. That night, Jeff played the violin for our baby boy. We sang to him. We loved him. That baby boy is now over 6 feet tall and listens to his own music, but we still love him, and give thanks for him.

Psalm 131.2:

But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; my soul is like the weaned child that is with me.

Family

Family can be defined as persons with genetic or adoptive ties. Family can also be defined as persons with close, chosen relationships. Thirdly, family can be defined by our relationships within the church. I am blessed to have my family defined by all three.

I can remember so many years when my relationships with my family of genetic origin tended to be fraught with anxiety. I know that I am different in many ways from my family of origin. My parents and my brother were, by nature, far more detail oriented than I am. It wasn’t until my late twenties that I could begin to really accept that my differences were truly okay, that I wasn’t crazy as I had often thought because I was so different.

This year I have finally begun to experience a greater freedom for me within my family. I do not need to fit within some limited mold to be acceptable; and I know that it was more that I was trying to be acceptable to them than that they wanted me to fit in a mold. Partly, this freedom comes simply from growing older and becoming more comfortable within my own skin. Part of it comes from a greater awareness of how each of us has been shaped by how we grew up.

Tonight, I know that to be able to laugh, and cry, and laugh again in the midst of family is a tremendous gift.

Pictures and Memories

Sunday night, Andrew and a friend were over. They and Max and I sat talking with each other. We started looking at photo albums of when the boys were both little—from their births on for a few years. What a joy it was to see all those all pictures and touch the memories they brought back. We told stories of those days. I was reminded how important Ocracoke has been in our family—going year after year with our boys growing older.

I loved seeing the pictures of Jeff with the boys, of the smiles and laughter they shared between them. It can be hard to get past more recent memories which can color older ones in a way in our minds. While life when the boys were small was not a simple walk in the park, it was important to me to be carried past these last several years and remember how much love and life there was. It was also good for them to see reminders of their dad’s relationship with them.

This coming Sunday would have been our 34^th wedding anniversary. We waited twelve long years for Andrew, our first born, and eighteen for Maxwell. During those years of waiting and longing, the verses below were important for Jeff. I share them in the spirit of memories of love and hope.

Psalm 127:3-5

Sons are indeed a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the sons of one’s youth. Happy is the man who has his quiver full of them.

Psalm 113.9:

He gives the barren woman a home, making her the joyous mother of children. Praise the Lord!

Finding My Own Rhythm

Finding my own rhythm has been an interesting process over the past year, and it is not really complete by any means. When a part of a couple, it was appropriate to make adjustments or modifications in my pace. The best image I have of that is of walking closely side by side with Jeff. If we each walked truly at our own gait, each one’s arms swinging with our own rhythm, we would tend to bump into each other. It was far more comfortable to match our walk to the other.

This happens not only in walking style, but also in diurnal/nocturnal rhythms, in entertaining patterns, in sharing household chores, and so many other areas. After many years, it can then be hard in some places to know what is my own natural style or rhythm and what was Jeff’s.

During our time on Ocracoke last week, Max and I lived by our own schedule. While not an entirely new revelation, the differences were interesting. When there with Jeff, we lived on a different timetable. Part of that was developed from the years we camped with no electricity, when we rose with the sun. Part of it came also from matching my pace to Jeff’s. We tended to get up and going early, arriving at the beach shortly after eight o’clock. We left the beach by eleven, washing up before lunch, spending the afternoon reading and walking around town. This year, Max and I didn’t make it to the beach before eleven any day. Sometimes it was afternoon before we made it. We stayed up later and woke somewhat later.

The revelation for me in all this is to learn what my own rhythm is, and to reflect on how do I walk and live by it. Then the next reflection for me is how does that pattern mesh with God’s heartbeat. Do I stubbornly keep to my own gait and style or begin to pattern my pace and life to walk in tandem with Christ? What does that look like? What difference does it make in my life?

Matthew 11:29-30

Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

Patch of Blue

Tonight, as I sat inside because it was too hot and humid still out on the deck, I could see the sky over the houses and between the trees. The sun was working its way down over the horizon. I could only see the light, not the orb itself. Most of the sky I could see looked somewhat grayish yellow, but at the lower western edge it looked as though some true blue was showing. As I watched it over the next several minutes, I could indeed see more blue reveal itself even while the light of the sun was fading.

This struck me as a metaphor for my life right now. I am preparing to head to our beloved Ocracoke Island with Max just hours after he gets back from the mission trip. While I know Ocracoke nearly as well as I know the patch of sky looking out my back window, it still is a slowly approaching mystery. What will it be like this time, the first time of going without Jeff since 1978? Will the patch of blue sky reveal more of itself at the edge of the horizon?

The yellow tinge in the sky felt a bit ominous, just like my sense of uncertainty of what the future holds. Then that blue patch took hold and my spirits lifted. There will be joy and hope that reveal themselves bit by bit.

Thank you, God, for a lesson in hope tonight.

Romans 8:24-25

For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.