Gentle Blessings

I have so enjoyed getting out in the afternoons for a nice longish walk. Today as I was turning toward home, I decided to walk through Isaac Crossman Park. It’s a cinder path that passes a playground before winding through trees. When I started on the path, I heard two small children call out a name. They stopped in their playing to watch me come nearer. I realized they thought they knew me, so when I got closer I waved and said, “Hi! We don’t know each other but I hope you are having fun.” Their mom said I looked like someone they knew. I replied that I get that a lot from people. Then she said the nicest thing: “It’s probably because you are so kind looking.”

That moment was a gentle blessing to my soul. The mom could have just nodded, but she blessed me. How often does what we say bless someone? In this season of so many ugly words and actions, the gift of blessing others in our encounters is a needed antidote. Finding ways to build people up rather than cut them down doesn’t take a lot of time or energy, but I’m sure it gladdens God’s heart.

Proverbs 15:1

A soft answer turns away wrath,

but a harsh word stirs up anger.

Holy Week--Eaglets and Bombs

This week I have been somewhat captivated by the eaglecam at the National Arboretum in DC. I have caught glimpses of the eaglets. There is something soothing about watching the branch on which the nest sits move in the breeze. When I saw a car move on the road far below it almost seemed unreal.

There is a disclaimer just below the video that reminds us we are watching a wild eagle nest, and that many things can happen, “like sibling rivalry, predators, and natural disaster, some of which might be disturbing to see.” Just reading that builds some anxiety whenever I check back in. Will both eaglets still be there? Will both parents survive to help nurture their offspring?

Into this viewing of new life in nature comes a truly disturbing event. Brussels was rocked by terrorist attacks on Tuesday--three days earlier, it was Istanbul--senseless violence against people going about their daily lives. “Things can happen, some of which might be disturbing to see.” Is it a surprise why so many people are on edge almost all the time?

Tuesday, in Brussels just before the first bomb detonated, Susie Olmstead and Mike Wang’s daughter Laura Billiet, with her brother-in-law, was arriving at the airport to drop off her friend, also named Laura (Harper), for her flight back to the States. They had just stepped out of the car when the explosion hit. They got back in the car when another explosion went off closer to them. The two Lauras and the brother-in-law left the car and ran to the police station across the street. There, as injured people began pouring in, Billiet, a physician did triage with the little available to her—something to cut clothing to assess wounds, and paper towels to staunch the bleeding. Harper took charge of two young sisters whose parents had been rushed to the hospital from the airport. Harper quoted Mr. Rogers to them: look around to see the people who were helping in a bad situation. While Billiet helped treat forty wounded people, Harper also assisted in translating for a mother who spoke Spanish. As the mother was about to be taken off on a stretcher, Harper stopped them to make sure that her small son was kept with his mother.

“Things might happen, some of which might be disturbing to see.” Yes, but then look around to see the people who are helping, even as they are thrown into a desperate situation for which they are not prepared.

Seeing a man hanging on a cross until he dies, but, even as he is in agony, he uses his precious breath to forgive those who think they know what they are doing as they follow orders. He knows better—even as they participate in evil, they are ignorant.  That forgiveness was not lightly given. It took every ounce of his being to offer it to people who were not even aware they needed it.

Horrible, disturbing things happen, and yet even in the midst of it, the two women prayed when they made it inside the station. As soon as wounded people began arriving, their prayers became actions that touched the lives of those who were in a desperate situation. Their prayers may have been inarticulate cries, but their very lives articulated the healing, forgiving breath of the man who hung on the cross.

John 13:34-35

I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Illumine Me, Spirit of God

Open my eyes that I may see glimpses of truth thou hast for me;

Open my eyes, illumine me, Spirit of God!

These lines from an old hymn are still a powerful prayer for me. On Monday, as we talked in our discussion of Renegade Gospel, I was reminded that often we see what we expect to see. That I know. It’s one of the reasons we have been trying to ask ourselves at every staff meeting this question: where have I seen God’s grace at work in my life, and in the world? The more we train our eyes to see God’s grace at work, the more we see it.

We talked about what it is to look into the eyes of another and expect to see Jesus looking back at us. And what if those eyes of Jesus are in the face of someone who stands for something to which we are opposed? What if they are in the face of someone with whom we politically disagree? I’m not going to say here at whose rallies would that particular face be appearing, but the very idea of it struck me hard.

I have some repenting to do. I have some praying to do. Open my eyes, illumine me, Spirit of God!

Matthew 25:45

Then he will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’

Passing on Blessings

As we have been working on our Lenten Giving Out of our Abundance calendar, I have been reminded ever more how truly blessed I am. I had been ruing--ahead of time--the day when the garage giving comes up. It's $5 if we have a garage; more if we can't fit a car into it because it is so full of other things. Yes, I am able to park my car in a garage here at my apartment building, but I think I have to count it double for the more since I have two storage units!

I already had planned to work with Max for two days during his spring break on the storage units. Today, I made three trips in car to the thrift shop. I took my mother's buffet, Grary's antique Singer treadle sewing machine, my Grandmother Morris' small wardrobe, and one of the barrister bookcases from my in-laws. All of these things have a great deal of sentimental value for me. Mamma was so proud of her buffet from which she could serve hot foods just by opening the top to the heat-proof surface. I sewed a dress on that treadle machine. The wardrobe was in our living room when I was very small. Mamma used to tell how she walked in one day to find little Mochel sitting on top of it. I don't remember how I climbed it. After I got my own bedroom when I was five, that wardrobe was in my room as my dresser. Jeff's parents passed the books cases on to us as newlyweds.

So, a lot of sentimental value went through my car today. You might ask why I let them go. I am trying to downsize, but I am also trying to let go of things--not memories, but things for which I don't have a use anymore, but someone else could make good use of them. Two weeks ago, when we moved to the smaller apartment across the hall, I finally gave away my father's golf jackets. He died in 1992, but I held on to them for over twenty-three years. I gave away all of Jeff's jackets I still had, as well. I did keep his traveling vest into which he had me add inside pockets.

I have a strong feeling that I need to travel light in this phase of my life. My roots need to be in God, and also in place and people, not in possessions. So I offer a blessing to whomever these pieces of furniture will touch, and the new memories they will engender in lives of people I do not know.

Luke 12:20-21

But God said to him, ‘You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?’ So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.”

A Path and a Calling

Today, I handed what I hope is the final form of my DMin project paper to my reader. I set up

the required public presentation. I even called about ordering my graduation regalia. It has been a long road in some ways, one that I never imagined I would take. While I have always enjoyed learning and growing, for thirty-two years I said I would never go back to school where I was graded. And yet I did—thirty-three years after completing my master’s degree. In a little over two months now, it looks as though I will make another walk as a graduate.

Some folks have asked what I plan to do with my degree. In reality, I will be doing the same thing with my Doctorate of Ministry that I have done with my Master of Divinity degree: seeking to be faithful to God’s call in my life to be a part of the ever in-breaking Kindom of God as a follower of Jesus. My call happens to be lived out in a particular form of ministry through Word, Sacrament, and Order in the United Methodist Church. This does not make my call higher or lower than any other call from God. Brother Lawrence washed dishes and swept floors to the glory of God.

I love one of the gentle moves we make during our time of Embodied Prayer on Wednesday mornings. After a three-fold action reminding us of being in relationship with our God whom we know as Three-in-One, we stretch our arms out in front of us as though forming a path. It is a path of which we can see only a step or two, but it is the path in which we are called to follow and lead. That is true for each one of us. This is my call and my path. What is your call and the path to which God is leading you? You have one as well. And it is holy.