"Chance" Encounters

This has been a week for me mostly to listen, and maybe offer a brief word, but mostly listen. I took two brown paper grocery bags full of DVDs to a store that handles used CDs, DVDs and LPs. As the young man checked them for damage and sorted them by type, he talked about his experience following his mother’s death a couple of weeks earlier. He had no idea that I am a pastor. He simply talked about how deeply he was touched by the selfless service offered him and his brother by the people at his mother’s church. I was there for nearly an hour as he talked. Only when he asked if I was a teacher did I say that I am a pastor and then he asked for my card.

This week I also encountered a young man who has known a good deal of trauma in his life. He was once briefly a part of our congregation. We touched base enough for me to know that he will graduate from college next Spring.

There was the man who stopped at the church to pray in the Sanctuary, and then wanted to talk about the urgency he felt about the Coming of Christ, and his desire for various churches to unite in their outreach to save those who have strayed.

Three young men in very different places in their lives, but in all of these encounters I had the opportunity to listen to how God is at work. In these and a couple of other encounters, I felt the nudging of the Spirit to listen. This was not the time for me to do much talking. Now as I reflect on them, the Spirit of God is within me lifting them in prayer. And so I join with the Spirit offering them up into the best that God has for them. I pray that I could hear and see them with the ears and eyes of Christ.

Psalm 131

O Lord, my heart is not lifted up, my eyes are not raised too high; I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me.

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.

O Israel, hope in the Lord from this time on and forevermore.

Play-doh

Yesterday afternoon, at the Colloquy I co-facilitate at Wesley Theological Seminary, the student who led our devotions talked about two aspects of our lives we tend to neglect when we get busy. The first is God. The second is play. So he passed around small containers of Play-doh. After praying, he played some music and asked us to play with our lump of Play-doh, reflecting on our relationship with God.

As the lump fit into my palm, I immediately thought about how God has written our name in the palm of God’s hand. I pressed the lump between my two palms. When I looked again, all the lines—large and small—from my palms were inscribed on both sides of the Play-doh. I marveled at the detail kept in the clay, and wondered how my life could reflect the Love revealed in the lines of God’s hands. These are the hands that set the Creation in motion. These are the hands that blessed Abram and Sarai. These are the hands that poured oil upon David’s head. These are the hands that healed the lame, and gave sight to the blind. These are the hands that were nailed to the cross.

I know I have to be careful with all metaphors, especially ones that liken God to a human being. Metaphors can point us towards truth about God, but in the end they will all fall short. Knowing that, I felt that if God holds me in the palms of God’s hands so closely that the lines of God’s hands are inscribed upon me, how could I live so that the memory of those lines will show through me?

Isaiah 49:15b-16a

Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you. See, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands.

Breathing In & Out

All Who Pass By

On my morning walks, I use the Jesus prayer for intercessions, saying “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on…” After praying for my family and Jeff’s family, I pray for friends and then the Bishop and her Cabinet. When I pray for Christ Crossman, I begin with “all who are members, all who call this home, all who worship with us, all who come to our doors and all who pass by” before moving on to individuals, and that we may be a part of what God wants to bless here.

The part about “all who pass by” has come to be really significant for me. There’s a lot of traffic on N Washington St and on Columbia St, especially during my walks in the morning commute hours. Normally, I walk along N Washington for almost ¼ mile. Without being intrusive, I notice lots of the folks who drive by. Some are talking on their phones, some let other drivers in, some seem oblivious to their surroundings and fellow drivers, but all are children of God. I don’t know what their religious perspectives are and while I would love for them to know about the Good News of Jesus Christ, my prayers are primarily for God’s mercy for them, and for the best that God has possible for them.

For me, this is the beginning of evangelism towards them. How can I share Christ’s love for them unless I truly want God’s best for them regardless of what that might be? I am far too limited in my scope of vision to know what is best for their lives. As I pray for them, that prayer changes me--my attitude and my actions towards them. How can I be irritated and annoyed or even angry with them when I want God’s best, God’s mercy for them?

“Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on all who pass by.”

Though the Mountain Should Shake

Today, I sat in the Colloquy I co-teach with Dr. Beverly Mitchell at Wesley Theological Seminary and listened as she read Psalm 46 aloud. “though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea; though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble with its tumult.”

As she read images passed through my mind: all the pictures from 9/11/01; the earthquake; Hurricane Irene; Tropical Storm Lee; the Texas drought and now wildfires; and closer to home, in a very real sense, losing Jeff from our daily lives.

I confess that I too can get caught up in the anxiety of this age as I hear the relentless beat of the drums. It merely magnifies some of what I already experience. And so I pause to listen for a deeper beat, a beat that is the heartbeat of our God who is the Source and the Promise of all Creation, the One whose Love began it all, redeems it all, and calls it all toward fulfillment.

In the midst of all the upheaval, when the waters rise and the towers fall, there is a strong awareness that God is deeper than the deepest bedrock. The God I believe in is not simply a God of the gaps to explain what I don’t yet understand. It is to this Rock I cling.

Psalm 46: 1-2a

God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear.

Poised at a Cusp

I am poised at a cusp in a way. This summer has been a time of healing and rest in a way. Yet in another way I have been very aware that at the end of it a huge adjustment is waiting for us, for me. An experience this Sunday afternoon highlights that for me.

With Bill and Barbara, Max and I went to see a delightful show at the Rockbox Theater in Fredericksburg, TX. For two hours, the resident band and a guest artist took us through memory lane with great rock-and-roll music. We all thoroughly enjoyed it. During the second half of the show, some of the country music of Ray Charles was featured. Jeff really loved Ray Charles in The Blues Brothers, but as I sat there I knew he would not have wanted to come to a performance like this one, especially in the last ten years or so. And then came Unchained Melody with it's haunting, smooth music and lyrics. Unbidden tears came to my eyes as I missed him so much.

As we fly back to Virginia and re-enter the flow of life, I know that folks will still make space for us to grieve and adjust to all the changes we will face. Part of me wants simply to plunge into the midst of all the busy-ness of fall. I have thoughts about vision and direction that I want to share. I have plans to accomplish. And yet at the edge of it all, or really in the midst of it all, there is trepidation about how the loss of Jeff from our daily lives will affect each of us.

And so I sit at the cusp of loss and of healing, of past and of future, of being nurtured and sheltered in the heart of family and of needing to step forward. As I ache with saying goodbye to Bill and Barbara, Kat, Travis and the babies, Jesus words about dying in order to live come to mind. In so many ways, I sit at the cusp of a seed that has fallen to the earth as I wait for it to grow and bear fruit.

John 12:24

Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.

Family

Two weeks with various configurations of family have been wonderful. In Alabama, Max and I were able to be with all of my first cousins, and their children, on my mother’s side. We also saw my aunt and uncle, my mother’s sister and brother. In Nashville we got to visit with my Great-Aunt Annie Sue who will be 102 in October. She is amazing.

The real surprise at almost the last minute was the chance to see one of my father’s nephews, Steve, whom I had not seen since I was about 6 years old. Steve lives in Seattle, but had been working in NC. We spent Monday morning getting to know each other while visiting some gravesites, and places where family had lived, including the site of our great-great-grandparents’ brickyard.

Max discovered writing on Steve & my great-great-grandfather Joseph Hauerwas’ gravestone. Born in Germany, he came to America as a child with his family. Within a couple of years of immigrating, his parents died weeks apart leaving the children at the mercy of an uncle who “took them in,” but also appropriated their property. Members of their church went to court to have their property returned to the children. Their uncle was also ordered to provide winter coats, a necessity for the bitter cold of Minnesota.

Family can sometimes be our genetic kin, but family can also be those who surround us with care and compassion. This summer, our actual family has surrounded us with love and care, as has the family of our church. As members of Joseph’s church came to his rescue so our church has offered us real support.

Acts 4:33-34a

With great power the apostles gave their testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great grace was upon them all. There was not a needy person among them.

Arboreal Suicide

I have another tree reflection. We have a beautiful, huge tulip/poplar tree in our back yard.  It's the species that the City of Falls Church chose for it's 2011 tree of the year. It's been a bumper crop year for its seedlings. I have been pulling them up all over the yard, including in the front.

Last week before we headed out of town, I had two tree companies come give me estimates for clearing out all the dead limbs from all my trees. I don't want to deal with the damage they could cause this winter or next spring. One good sized branch fell from from our oak into our yard in early June, spearing the ground where I had been mowing just minutes before. Another fell from a non-flowering cherry into our neighbor's yard the day Jeff died. Graciously Maria said she would deal with it's cleanup. Luckily, none of the children in her daycare were out back when it fell.

Back to our huge poplar tree. Looking around back, one tree guy noticed insect damage in the bark, and pulled a section of bark away from the base. Underneath, the wood looked black, and had a hole in it. He stuck in a twig all the way and asked for a screwdriver. I brought a long one. That went straight in all the way. He asked for something longer. I brought out a crowbar which went in for over a foot with no resistance. Uh oh. Not good news.

He noted a root which had, decades ago, wrapped itself around the base of the tree instead of going out into the yard. He said that this root has choked the tree in that area causing it to decay, inviting insects to aid in the process. This beautiful, huge tree has been committing arboreal suicide (Max's term for it), necessitating it's removal soon.

How often do we act as if everything is okay in our lives, yet by some perhaps either intentional or inadvertent action we choke off the possibilities of fully living, maybe even leading to great damage? It is important to keep in close relationship with those who will speak truth and help us clear away those things that would choke out life.

Thanks be to God that there are possibilities for hope and life beyond. Forgiveness and redemption offer new life for us. And even the wood of the tree can be used again. 

Interwoven Roots

The giant sequoia is an amazing tree. While it can grow quite tall, it gets its name more from the girth of the tree. Besides its magnificent appearance, what really amazes me about this tree is its root system. Most of its roots are just under the surface, no more than four or so feet down. Think about it. These trees can grow 250 to 280 feet tall, and yet have roots that go down no more than four feet under ground. What keeps them from falling over? Well, the root system is quite wide; it can go as far as 150 feet out from the tree, but what really makes it so stable is that as it goes out it becomes interwoven with the roots of other trees. These amazing trees stand so tall because they have each other.

In theory, I have known how important it is to have a community of people in one’s life, however I have often found myself standing alone. Usually it’s because I think I shouldn’t need other people’s help--that I should be able to manage on my own, or because I don’t want to impose on others.  What I have come to experience this summer is a community as wide as the root system of the giant sequoias, and as interwoven.

All sorts of people have surrounded my young men and me, offering expressions of care that range from notes, cards and emails to meals, yard work, help with sorting, and arms to hug. These have come from people I have known for years, even decades, but also from some I have only recently met.

I stand because you stand around me. You make it possible for me to lift up my branches in praise and thanksgiving. Thank you.

Max and I fly off to spend time with family this month. I will send missives from the hinterlands of the Texas hill country. And I will see you in September.

Isaiah 55:12

For you shall go out in joy, and be led back in peace; the mountains and the hills before you
shall burst into song, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.

Pruning

I have been reading Bearing Fruit: Ministry with Real Results and discussing it on Facebook with some colleagues. As we read the part about the pruning that is necessary, I was reminded of times in my ministry when even fruitful vines were pruned. It was always painful and I couldn’t see the results immediately, but eventually I could begin to see new fruit.

In my gardening, sometimes I am led to prune back a tree or shrub extensively so that it looks a bit bare, but the next season it usually begins to grow vigorously. If it were left to grow completely in its own way, it could have a beautiful wildness to it, but it wouldn’t necessarily work well with its neighbors. I’m not talking about making a manicured landscape of such precision that a single errant branch ruins the whole look, but about encouraging the most fruitful and beautiful growth possible.

In this season of my life, I am taking stock of what is necessary for growth, and comfort, but also of what things can go, or need to go. I could just keep all of the stuff Jeff and I accumulated over the years, and keep walking in the same paths around the house, but I don’t want to stagnate. I want to continue to grow and be fruitful so that means using a critical eye, a bit of trimming—not too much (especially for the boys’ comfort), and having trust in God’s guidance for the fruit that lies ahead.

John 15:1-2

”I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinegrower. ²He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit.

Dinner Out Becomes More

I had a strong desire, compulsion almost, for Max and I to eat at one of our favorite restaurants, Ireland’s 4 Provinces. It was the last place that Jeff had eaten dinner out with us back in February with Valerie and Jeff W. We used to go there far more frequently than we should have, but it was always an inviting place.

From afar, we watched as a wedding party continued their post-reception celebration. As we were on our last course, Travis the manager on duty stopped by the table. We first met him about four years ago when he was waiting tables. At first, he was without a name to us, but we knew him by the spider tattoo on his arm. He was always pleasant. I felt compelled to explain why Jeff wasn’t with us. Tears leapt to my eyes. I don’t like to cry in front of others. Travis sat on the edge of the booth seat as I said that Jeff had had cancer, and told us that he had been diagnosed this spring with a form of leukemia. He also named quite a list of others from the restaurant—staff and regulars—who were fighting and had fought cancer.

Travis is undergoing treatment that will continue throughout his life. His doctor, who had been Jeff’s oncologist, says that if one wanted a cancer this is the one to have because it is very treatable. Wryly, Travis said he really didn’t want one, thanks anyway.

My guilty feelings for an unnecessary extravagance turned into thankfulness for being able to share a moment and concern with a fellow traveler. I asked if Travis minded being added to a prayer list. He said that it’s okay, so I ask for prayers for Travis, of the spider tattoo, for healing but also for strength and even joy in the midst of the journey.

Romans 12:15

Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.

Holy Tears

On Friday, Max and I went to see the last of the Harry Potter movies. We got to the mall early to pick up our tickets, and thus had more than plenty of time to walk around. I felt better for being able to walk with few crowds around. Only the early morning walkers were getting in their laps. We were on our third lap when we came up behind an older couple. They weren't going fast. He was a bit bent. My first thought about them was about how good it was for them to be getting their exercise at a time when many older adults have given up.

We stopped at Brookstone where I sat in the massage chair. Maybe it was the physical relaxation but my thoughts were free to wander. I remembered the older couple on their walk, and I imagined myself at their age, and then suddenly realized that the one I had always assumed would be there walking with me wouldn't be. A few tears leaked out. A few more came when I thought about how much Jeff had wanted to see this last HP movie.

I know we will encounter a great many of these moments of a renewed sense of loss, especially this first year, but also in the years to come. I truly do believe that when we are in the heart of God we can never be separated from those we love who are also in God’s heart, but that doesn’t completely take away the sense of loss here and now.

It gives me comfort to know that Jesus who had the power of resurrection wept over the death of Lazarus. His tears and my tears, even though they don’t have the last word, are still precious and holy.

John 11:34-35

He said, ‘Where have you laid him?’ They said to him, ‘Lord, come and see.’ Jesus began to weep.

The Waters Shall Not Overwhelm

I feel as though I am drowning in details. During Jeff’s illness, I worked on lots of them so that when the end came, family and friends would be able to gather in a true celebration of his life. Now that folks are back to their lives, the details continue to pour in. At some moments, I have energy to face them. At others, I would rather go hide. I start a project, get some of it done, then have to move on to something else either because it was overwhelming me, or because C can’t happen until B and A are done.

Thank God that I am supported by terrific folks who are truly there for us. Jen sits across the table from me, taking on extra details that I normally handle. Mirta gently and graciously shields me from too many calls. Valerie helps pack up clothes. Bill, far away, but closer than a heartbeat almost, is there when I need him.  And I am more than grateful.

There are some things that no one else can handle for us. There are the anxieties that go with loss, and the worries about being a single parent. When the 4 a.m. wakeup happens and I can’t go back to sleep (not everyday fortunately), sometimes the tide of anxiety rises. That is when the words below from Isaiah resound more deeply in my soul. We are not alone. We are surrounded by many, and by the One who is always there.

Isaiah 43:1-2

Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you.

Give My Heart

What can I give him, poor as I am?

If I were a Shepherd, I would bring a lamb;

if I were a Wise Man, I would do my part;

yet what I can I give him: give my heart.

In the Bleak Midwinter, Christina Rosetti, 1872

The last line of this song has been echoing in my head these last few days. When the choir at Christ Crossman sang this at Christmastime, Jeff often sang one verse as a tenor solo.

I have felt so full of gratitude these last days that it is difficult to express it clearly. My gratitude is not only to my Savior who was and is and will continue to be the gift of all gifts beyond my understanding, it is also to and for all who have surrounded my family and me with so much love and support. The prayers, the food, the notes, the cards, the calls, the thoughts have been overwhelming—in a good way.

To greet so many who loved and cherished Jeff (and us) throughout so many parts of his and our lives—his colleagues at St Charles, his students, his/our past parishioners from his churches before his retirement, our colleagues through the years, and more, was a treasure on Friday and Saturday.

I truly understand the sentiment of Rosetti’s poetry—“What can I give…, poor as I am?” Your gifts of love have filled the spaces in my heart. “What I can I give…: give my heart.” You have my heart. Thanks be to God for each of you for all you have done and continue to do. I give you my heart.

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.

How Superwoman Flies

As a kid I really liked hearing, “it’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s Superman!” And everyone would be pointing upward to see him fly over. Just the other day, I wrote to a friend, “I've always known that I'm not a superwoman, but there's something in me that makes me keep trying to act like one. I can’t fly without assistance.”

I think I have discovered how superwoman flies. We look up as she flies overhead seemingly without effort, but what we don’t see are all the hands that are raised up helping to hold her up—you know, like in those trust exercises, being passed along overhead on the upraised hands of the group.

Finally last week, two friends in particular with their questions helped me come face to face with this truth—I cannot fly alone. And thus with trepidation I have opened the way to see all those hands that have been there all along.

Forgive me if I’ve been slow. And know that I am so grateful, more than I can ever really express.

I wrote these words last week before Jeff entered the Halquist Center. Ever since then, as Jeff grew steadily weaker and now that he has died, I am learning ever more deeply their truth. I have been overwhelmed with how many there are whose hands are holding me up—some from places and people I knew would be there, but some from entirely unexpected sources.

If ever you see me acting as if I can fly alone, remind me (gently) of the hands that hold me, acting as God’s own hands.

Galatians 6:2-3

Bear one another’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. For if those who are nothing think they are something, they deceive themselves.

Too Blunt Perhaps

I am coming to realize that I am a bit too blunt right now. You see, I deal day in and day out, every hour of every day, with a certain reality. I am up close and personal in living with someone going through his last days on earth.

As a pastor for over 30 years, I have walked this path with many others, but now it is a different journey. Perhaps my familiarity with the journey as a pastor has made a difference as to how I walk it in my own life, but it is not the same.

Part of the bluntness comes perhaps from ever-present awareness. There’s a sense that since it’s the number one thing on my mind, “isn’t it number one on yours as well”? or, “how can you NOT be aware of it?” And thus, I say it without using any sugar-coating or euphemisms: my husband is going to die. That is the blunt truth. In reality, it is the truth of all our lives, for not one of us is immortal. We WILL have “an illness unto death,” whether that be a momentary illness caused by an accident or one that lasts for years. It’s just that now we cannot avoid the knowledge. It stares at us; it stares at me all the time. It dares me to avoid it. It creeps around corners to surprise me just when I take a moment to dream of something else. It wags its finger in front of my eyes, just to say “here I am, this truth you cannot ignore.”

And so, I tend to be too blunt. If I have made you uncomfortable, I apologize. I inadvertently brought tears to a dear friend on Sunday forgetting that she is not living with the reality every day.

Even in my bluntness, there is one thing I would like to convey: there is hope, not despair. There is sadness and grief, but not despair, for I am not alone. I walk through a shadowed valley, but not alone for my God is with me.

Psalm 23:4

Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff—they comfort me.

What Shapes My Life

Years ago when I was in college, I heard someone giving a talk on relationships say something like, “If you feel you cannot live without this person, then that is not a healthy relationship.” I have discovered over the years, that this is really true.

This was brought to mind this morning as I went to get my second cuppa at a little past 6. Jeff is not yet awake. He has always been an early riser. And as happens so often these days, I wonder briefly about the changes happening now, and what will happen; about how much of my life—our lives—have been shaped by Jeff’s patterns. For better or worse, our lives are changing; the patterns are constantly shifting these days. Jeff, over the years, as a judging type on the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator with a great need for routine, has given the rest of us a gift. The other three of us have a greater tendency towards spontaneity, which can often mean that structure is lacking. He has helped insure that we go to bed early enough in order to meet the day well rested and prepared.

As my mind flits briefly to that place in the future, I feel grief and a bit of fear of what will be, and what will not be. For nearly 33 years, my life has been shaped by this man, as his has been shaped by me. What will the shape of my life be like in the days, years to come?

What about another shaping influence in my life—an even more important one? Have I allowed the Triune God to shape my life as much?  When this earthly partner’s shape is no longer at my side, will I find that I am still shaped by this much more lasting companion or have I allowed the other to hold greater sway in my life?

And so my mind goes to the truth of that talk so long ago. I know that while I will deeply miss my partner in life, I have another that will comfort me, counsel me, guide me and shape me.

Romans 12:2

Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect.

Words and Images Fall Short

I have started reading two books, about different topics, but they raise a similar refrain as they begin. The first is Entertaining the Triune Mystery: God, Science, and the Space Between by Jeffrey C Pugh. The second is Why? By Adam Hamilton. The first is obviously going to be an exploration of science and faith. The second looks at those age-old questions about God and suffering, pain and evil.

The refrain that I “hear” in these books is that too often we fall into the trap of trying to limit God to the words and images that we use to describe God. Pugh says that “the images of God we have been struggling with for millennia can be images that can never capture the totality of the One who stands at the boundaries of thought (p. 6).” Hamilton says, “Our disappointment with God in the face of suffering or tragedy or injustice typically stems from our assumptions about how God is supposed to work in our world. When God does not meet our expectations, we are disappointed, disillusioned, and confused (location 75 on Kindle version).”

The sense that I got from both is how God is immensely beyond my scope of understanding. All I can grasp is a mere drop in the bucket, and what I can describe is even less than that drop. In this I can best sing with the writer of Psalm 8: “When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you have established; what are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them?” The vastness of all creation that began everywhere at once (as I learned from astronomer Jennifer Wiseman) dwarfs not just me, but all humanity. And yet…and yet…as vastly beyond creation as God is, one drop I have grasped is that God is not only aware of me, but also cares deeply about me.

In this time of journeying with Jeff through the end of life, I am grateful for this drop of knowledge. I am even more grateful that God is far beyond all I can possibly imagine or dream, let alone describe. And thus I stand in awe.

Pity Party

I was feeling a tad sorry for myself this evening. Jeff needed some inpatient pain therapy so I took him over around 2:30 p.m. and in the process forgot an appointment that I had with my coach. The repairman for the gas dryer was supposed to come between 1 & 5, so Becky came to work on her computer at our house to let him in. I noticed that the AC wasn’t cooling well. The air handler was blowing but the condenser fan wasn’t working so I put in a call for a repairman. I got home from taking Jeff around 4:30. The dryer repairman still hadn’t come, nor had the HVAC people. I was hot, tired and feeling cranky.

Shortly after 5, the dryer guy called to find our address. The scheduler had entered our address wrong and his GPS had him in Alexandria off of Seminary Road. Then he had to negotiate traffic heading west. Charles normally gets off at 3:30, but continued working until after 6 to take care of the customers, including me.

At 8:16 the HVAC guy called and said he was on his way. He arrived at 8:30, finishing up a little after 9. Two hours earlier his dad called to say he was taking him mom to the hospital, but he didn’t know why. Cole continued with what he needed to do which meant being at my house instead of the hospital with his mom.

Sometimes, often-times, when I have a pity party, I forget about what others are going through. Tonight, thank you God, that some reminders were afforded me with the awareness that I am not the only one facing difficulties. In my rush to say “Woe is me!” may I not forget that someone else needs a hand at least as much as I do.

Romans 12:15

Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.

For Falls Church City Memorial Day Service

My friend Scott Howson's photo of the National Cemetery in Fredericksburg, VA.

Today I offer the Invocation and Blessing at the Falls Church City Memorial Day Service.


INVOCATION

Holy and Living God, known by many names:

Send forth the breath of your Spirit upon us this day when we remember all those who have given their lives in the service of their nation, defending others from tyranny and terrorism, enabling us to live, move and worship freely.

Hear our prayers as we honor their memory.

Receive our thanks for your powerful gifts of life.

Empower us not only to keep peace, but to make peace in this world that knows so much strife.

In your name, O Creating God, we pray this day and always. Amen.

BLESSING FOR DEPARTED VETERANS

Bless, O Lord, all those who have served in the armed forces of our nation, who have given selflessly of their years in order to protect and defend.

Bless especially those who have died in this service.  May we honor their memories and their sacrifice by living lives of worth and value.

Bless also those who returned to serve at home in other ways, and have since died. May we give thanks for their gifts.

Bless those whose memories of war have haunted them and their loved ones. May they find peace and healing in your presence.

Bless those who serve this day far from home and loved ones. May they know of our honor for them.

Bless us as we honor those who gave their utmost for our nation. May our lives be worthy of their sacrifice.

In your blessed and blessing Name, we pray, O Lord of all. Amen.

Guiding Principles

I have mentioned guiding principles before. It can be tough to actually say what one’s guiding principles are. Often we simply adopt what we have been taught or what we have experienced, but until they go through the crucible of our own reasoning and experience they will be like hand-me-down clothes that may or may not fit us well. This past week, I encountered some things that struck me as guiding principles, if not of the person who sent or posted them, then of the person who wrote them.

Judy Brown sent me these three aspects of humility from Dallas Willard:

1.     Never pretend we are or are not somebody other than who we are

2.    Never presume that we deserve anything or that anybody else deserves anything

3.    Never push to make things happen. Act and let go of the results.

A friend of mine posted this on Facebook: “Tip from leadership class: When presented with a problem/issue Accept it, change it or move on.”

These two reminded me of The Serenity Prayer penned by Reinhold Neibuhr in the 1930s: “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.”

In a way, all of these represent guiding principles that can help keep a person centered and grounded.

Here are some stabs at my guiding principles:

·      Don’t call people names.

·      Every person deserves to be treated with respect, even if I don’t like them.

·      God desires what is best for each person, and I certainly don’t know what that best is.

·      Take time to think it through. Don’t react on the spot.

·      Regardless of status in the eyes of the world, each person is equally created in the image of God, which means not holding them higher or lower in regard than myself.

·      Your lack of planning does not become my emergency.

·      I choose to love.

Matthew 6:33

But strive first for the kingdom of God and God’s righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.

Staying Calm in the Midst of Drama

There are people who get caught up in “drama,” and there are people who seem to be calm no matter what the circumstance. When I was growing up in the far west end of Richmond, our across the street neighbor—Skeebo--was known for his calm demeanor. Once when the neighbors were gathered at their house for a cookout, and it began to rain, they attempted to grill the steaks in the utility room in the basement. Needless to say, the fire did not stay well contained. All Skeebo said was “Marion, it’s on fire,” just as though he was saying, “Marion, we’re out of ice,” and then he poured his drink on the fire.

Well, I’m not sure I could have stayed so calm in the face of fire in my utility room, and I can count more than plenty of times when I have lost my cool, but I am doing better. In my Extraordinary Leadership Seminar based on Bowen Family Systems, I have been learning about managing my own anxiety so that I don’t add fuel to the fire, as it were. An added benefit is that in addition to staying calmer myself, I can help calm the anxiety or agitation in the situation.

If I am going to stay calm, then I need to be centered and have some guiding principles. These keep my life focused more on responding rather than reacting. It can be really hard to stay calm in the face of someone’s panic or rant. There is a natural tendency to want to rant back or go along with the panicking, but in the long run that does not help, so I try to draw a deep breath and consider what will be most helpful. Sometimes asking a question helps; sometimes simply being there calms the water; and sometimes stepping outside and away is needed. All in all, I think our world could stand more reasoned response over gut reacting.

Luke 8:24

They went to him and woke him up, shouting, “Master, Master, we are perishing!” And he woke up and rebuked the wind and the raging waves; they ceased, and there was a calm.

Don't Forget to Breathe

“Don’t forget to breathe,” my dentist Dr. Rachel Valltos said to me as she was injecting novocaine preparatory to replacing two fillings in a tooth. “It’s a natural reaction to hold your breath, but it tenses your muscles and can make it hurt even more.” Then she talked about how some of her patients use breathing techniques in place of receiving novocaine to block the pain.

Some days I do feel like I’m holding my breath, tensing up, waiting… waiting for what? for something to happen, usually something somewhat dire.

When Jesus appeared to the disciples inside that locked upper room, they were in a sense holding their breath. Their leader had been crucified by the authorities, and they might be next. The door was locked to keep others out, but Jesus ignored the locked door. And he breathed on them: his breath—the breath of Spirit—the breath that brooded over the void in the beginning of creation—his breath that breathed new life into those defeated and fearful disciples.

I know some of the things against which I hold my breath in anticipation. How much better a way it is to meet them and face them filled with life-giving oxygen, with life-giving Spirit. In your life there may be things that cause you to hold your breath. Jesus says to you, “Receive the Holy Spirit,” as he breathes on you his life-giving breath.

Don’t forget to breathe—breathe in peace—breathe in Spirit—breathe in power.

John 20:21-22

Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit.

The Horns of a Dilemma

Ooooh, this has been one of those weeks where the feelings and the reasonings can be at loggerheads. I awoke on Monday morning to the news that Osama bin Laden had been shot and killed, and buried at sea. All in the flash of a moment, I felt relief that the search was over, anxiety that vengeful reprisals would begin anew and understanding why the burial at sea had taken place so quickly.

I scanned the early morning photos of spontaneous celebrations in front of the White House and at Ground Zero. I was amazed at, but then not surprised by the youth of those who gathered. Surely many of them were only in elementary school for 9/11. That means that the bulk of their lives has been lived under the cloud of terrorism and war. After this catharsis, maybe some will dedicate their lives to living justly even in the face of terror.

I heard snatches of TV news programs as Jeff watched—some commentators were irate that US taxpayers’ dollars went to Pakistan whose government “surely knew” were bin Laden was holed up. And as usual, the greatest bulk of airtime was given over to our “peeping-Tom” voyeurism of seeing how 9/11 victims’ families were reacting. I was thankful when he turned the TV off.

On Facebook, I have read a whole gamut of reactions—from elation to dismay, along with many prayers for peace. Some called this a “murder;” others called it a “fair dog-fight.” Some called it justice; others a continuation of killing that leads to more killing. One friend quoted Jimi Hendrix: ‎"When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace." Another quoted Ezekiel 33:11.

All I can say “thank God” that real, final justice is left in God’s hands. I certainly wouldn’t know how to “vote” on this one. All I know is that the only possible changes I can make are in myself, so how do I live to make God’s reign of justice and mercy evident? And how do I live in the face of those who hate me so that they can still see God’s love for them reflected in my life? These are not soft “bleeding-heart,” “hippie” questions but very tough decisions on how to live.

Ezekiel 33:11

Say to them, As I live, says the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from their ways and live; turn back, turn back from your evil ways; for why will you die, O house of Israel?

The Push and Pull of Compassion

Do you remember the pushmi-pullyu, the gazelle-unicorn or the two-headed llama in Dr Dolittle? I realized today I have a push/pull reaction to compassion these days. I went to an Arlington District Clergy meeting yesterday morning. I encountered colleagues there who were very caring, wanting to know how Jeff is doing, and how I am doing. After a far too brief word, all I wanted to do was sidle away from them. I sat on a row by myself when normally I would have sat with friends.

The push/pull is that I deeply appreciate the genuine caring and yet the intensity is sometimes too great for me. The push/pull is also that I need to let folks know about what’s going on and yet I want to withdraw.

I give thanks for friends and colleagues who care, who rejoice when I rejoice, who weep when I weep. I also give thanks for and ask for understanding for when I might seem brusque and unappreciative of compassion offered. I am not unappreciative. It’s just that at any particular moment I might need folks to just sit and let me sit. And I pray that I can offer that same gift to others when even a gentle hug, nudge or question might simply be too much.

Romans 12:15

Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.

One Thing

Last week in visiting Lillian who is recovering well from a stroke, she told me that her physical therapist, in releasing her from PT, told her to keep her mind on one thing at a time, and she should be able to accomplish each task. Then Lillian said with that hint of a dry smile she has that it’s hard to think about only one thing at a time.

I usually pride myself on my ability to multi-task. I get lots of things done that way. Lately, however, I been questioning this “ability.” How well do I really get things done? I have been much more mindful when I drive to focus on the task at hand. [See PR & news reports do make a difference.] And don’t I want someone to focus on me when with me rather than attending to other things—like talking on a cell phone?

Which makes me think of my need to focus on the one thing that is most needful—the love of Christ. With single-minded focus and obedience, he emptied himself and went to the cross—all for love, that we might be set free. So today, on this most Holy Thursday, whether at home, at work, or in worship (at 7:30 p.m.), the love of Christ is our focus. When we keep our mind on this one thing, then all things will be accomplished well.

Matthew 6:33

But strive first for the kingdom of God and God’s righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.

Grudge into gratitude

These days I would rather not let the frustrations bother me. I would rather be able to do each task with a true smile on my lips, and gratitude in my heart for being able to serve even in a small way, but I often find a grudge there instead.

I give thanks for companions along the way who are a witness to me in dealing with those pesky frustrations—some small, some quite large. Jen has been such an inspiration to me these last several years. She takes what she reads and hears and reflects on, and it becomes a part of her life.

This past week as she had to deal with one thing after another, so many that they became not just a molehill or a series of molehills, but nearly a mountain, in the midst of it all she sang “I sing because I’m happy, I sing because I’m free…” Granted at moments that song may have been more like a prayer of desperation, but the singing of it was also a hymn of praise, and a declaration of trust in God.

And so, with that witness before me, I will seek to turn my frustrations into an opportunity to sing praise, and grudges into gratitude.

Buy Less?

How often do I make something more complicated by trying to parse the details? For years I have been trying to improve our family’s “green-ness.” Three years ago, we bought a Civic hybrid. I would love to have solar panels on our house, especially since it faces the south. We got rid of the grass in front of the house to reduce the necessity of mowing.

This morning, I glanced at an article in the Post titled “Go green without spending green,” an interview with Jeffrey Hollender, founder of Seventh Generation cleaning products. The single most important thing in going green, he says, is to buy less stuff. That elicits a hand slap to the forehead: DUH!

Thinking “green” when we need to buy new things, make replacements, etc., is important, but buying more to add to the already massive collections in our homes and waste sites is not helpful in the end.

That way of thinking also applies to other areas of my life. What actions can go a long way without requiring massive planning and adding in lots of additional responsibilities? During Lent, we often give up something as a discipline but end up adding other things to take its place. Maybe the kind of fast that is needed is really learning to do with less—less things, less activities, less scheduling, less rushing. Anyway, this is giving me something to think about during these days when what I need to learn is how to let go—let go of worry, fear, anxiety.

"Pinch a bit of skin"

When we are kids, most of us are told that we shouldn’t point at others. It’s not polite. We may even have learned that whenever we point our finger at someone, there are three pointing right back at us.

Quite often what we don’t like in someone else is something we actually don’t like in ourselves; it’s just that we seldom realize it. Only today I listened as one person described another as not being able to see from any perspective but their own. As I heard this, I thought that the description actually fit the speaker quite well too. Then, as I smiled in a bit of smug superiority, I thought it can describe me at times.  Oooh. Caught.

I have a physiological analogy for this in my life. Several years ago, I kept smelling something that seemed a bit off. I thought it was the smell of stale smoke wherever I went, but then I discovered what it really was. It was a symptom of dehydration. I was dehydrated. So now, when I start to wrinkle my nose in distaste at a smell, I actually pinch of bit of my skin together to see if I getting dehydrated again.

In other aspects of life, I also need to “pinch a bit of my skin.” Before I jump to judgment on someone else, I need to examine myself and find where I err or fall short.

Matthew 7:3-4

Why do you see the speck in your neighbor’s eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye? Or how can you say to your neighbor, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ while the log is in your own eye?

The Heartbeat of God

During the days immediately after 9/11/01, one song kept resonating through my mind. It was a Taizé song that repeats: “The Lord is my light, my light and salvation. In God I trust. In God I trust.” Singing that over and over calmed my spirit in those days of such fear.

When I am suffused with joy, the words and tune of “Bless the Lord, my soul, and bless God’s holy name. Bless the Lord, my soul, who leads me into life” (Jacques Berthier), well up within me.

When I was in college, the young man I dated for several years seemed uncomfortable when I would break into a snatch of song. He would say, “Life is not a musical.” That’s when I realized that my life is indeed a musical. Music expresses what I feel, what I think; music teaches me; music calms me; music excites me. I learn best when words go to music.

Later when I read The Magician’s Nephew, originally the 5^th book in The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis, I found an important image. Aslan the great Lion, Son of the Emperor over the sea, sings all of Narnia into creation. In music, I find my deepest connection with my Lord. It is as though in music I am connected with the heartbeat of the One who set all of Creation into motion, who infuses it with saving grace, who calls to it from the telos, the “end” or goal, as it were.

And so, I invite you to sing a hymn of promise of that telos with me:

In our end is our beginning, in our time, infinity;

in our doubt there is believing; in our life, eternity.

In our death, a resurrection; at the last, a victory,

unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see. (Natalie Sleeth)

Colossians 3:16

Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly; teach and admonish one another in all wisdom; and with gratitude in your hearts sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God.

Centering Prayer

This past Sunday evening we had the first of our Lenten Centering Prayer Series. Someone said it was like doing yoga. I was reminded of my first real experiences with centering prayer in the summer of 1980. Jeff and I were freshly graduated from seminary serving our first congregations. Our new friend Jim introduced us to a monthly ecumenical study group that met at Holy Cross Abbey in Berryville.

We would begin at 2 p.m. with the monks’ regular afternoon prayer in the Chapel, and then move into the chapter room or library. Father Edward and Father Andrew would welcome us, and invite us into twenty minutes of centering prayer. Wow! Was that hard at first!  Think of it: twenty minutes of intentional silence, not speaking, not even silently; twenty minutes of silence shortly after lunch, in the summer, in a non-air-conditioned room with the windows open.

We each had our own word, usually a name for God, to help keep us centered on God. When we found our thoughts wandering, that word repeatedly silently, with our breathing would bring us back to the center of listening to God. After our time of centering prayer, we would then vigorously discuss the book we were reading for that year.

The monks of Holy Cross Abbey gave me a real gift by teaching me that prayer comes in many shapes—some very structured like the prayers of their ordered services; some free flowing as in spontaneous prayer; some silent and nourishing. All of it is a way of speaking with and, more importantly, listening to God. The more time I spend with my Maker, the more I will look and sound like my Maker.

Smudged Crosses

On Wednesday, as I traversed the halls of the massive Johns Hopkins hospital I kept seeing people with black crosses smudged on their foreheads. I wondered what others in the crowd thought as they saw them.

I thought about many things: first--that we are made from the dust and to dust we shall return. We are mortal. None of us will get out of this life alive. No matter how much we love it, no matter how much we cling, we will die. That might sound like a morbid thought, but I don’t think so. The reality is that we are mortal. Knowing that our life here on earth is not limitless makes it that much more precious.

Second—I thought about how thankful I am for the congregation with whom I serve in ministry—for all the times we have worshiped our Lord together. I am so thankful that this is a community of faith that is so faithful and loving. I am so thankful for Becky and others to willingly take up the mantle when I am not able to be present. I thought about the Young @ Heart folks with their smudged crosses at noon.

Third—as I was exiting the elevator in the lobby of the Weinberg Center, I saw the nurse practitioner from Jeff’s surgeon’s practice. We had seen her earlier in the day, but now on her forehead, she bore that black cross-shaped smudge, and I was glad for that quiet witness.

Fourth—as I sat in the congregation Wednesday night and heard the scriptures of Ash Wednesday read, I thought about how difficult it can be for us to go out into the world bearing our smudged crosses, proclaiming not only our mortality, and our repentance, but also our allegiance to the One who made us and redeems us.

I give thanks for you and for your prayers. Jeff is recovering from surgery. They were not able to remove the cancer, though they removed part of the colon, leaving him with an ileostomy. Chemo will follow. Jeff is in fairly good spirits. He is thankful for the gift of life, but even more for the gift of God’s redeeming love in Christ.

Joel 2:12-13

Yet even now, says the Lord, return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning; rend your hearts and not your clothing. Return to the Lord, your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and relents from punishing.

Sighs Too Deep for Words

Last year, in a seminar I attended, I shared about Jeff’s then upcoming liver surgery, and said I didn’t know how to pray about it. One woman heard that as if I said I didn’t know how to pray, or that I was so emotional I couldn’t pray. She proceeded to instruct me in how to pray and how to let others pray for me. I appreciated the thought but what I meant was that in my limited perspective I truly did not know what to pray for. I cannot see all possibilities. I do not know truly what is best so that is when I especially rely on the Spirit. When my words fail, I simply pray for the best that is possible in God’s view and then let the Spirit intercede for me.

I am in that place once again. Jeff will have surgery once again, this time on his colon. My spirit is heavy; it is weak. I give thanks for the prayers of others. And I rely on the Spirit to intercede for him, for me. God sees all possibilities. God knows what is the best possibility, so all I can do is simply place it all before, within our Lord, the One who made heaven and earth--all creation, the One who shaped us out of the dust of the earth and breathed life into us, the One whose love for us is so boundless that this One came among us to live our life, share our grief, die for us and rise to new life for us. With sighs too deep for words I stand before this God who is Three-in-One and in my weakness, I find living breath.

Romans 8:26

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.