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.

In the Midst of Stress

We human beings share a lot in common with other of God’s creatures. When we are faced with a danger, or a great deal of anxiety, we have a tendency towards fighting or fleeing, or caretaking. In other words, we may get aggressive and combative; we may flee the danger or stress; or we may tend to over-function or under-function. Any of these responses may be the most appropriate response to a particular situation. The problem is that we tend more towards one response, or actually reaction, than any other, and we use it even when it is not especially appropriate.

The adrenaline gets flowing through our system and we just can’t think—at least for the first thirty seconds or so. That might sound like a really short time, but a lot can happen in those thirty seconds. That’s what interviewers count on—asking one of those questions that catch the subject off guard—hoping they can surprise a non-thinking reaction that makes for a great sound bite. There are those of us that tend towards to jut out our jaw and put up our dukes anytime we are faced with anxiety. There are those of us who tend to turn tail and run for the hills. And there are those of us who tend to freeze like a deer in the headlights.

I was thinking about this today as we on the staff and leadership of Christ Crossman are facing so much transition. Moving to new positions, moving to new houses, moving to new countries—all of these, even as they are positive changes, are sources of great stress. As I have witnessed our leaders and staff members face these transitions, I have seen grace and understanding from them and for them.

While we always need to treat each other with grace and care, this is a time when that is especially needed. We may never realize that the person whom we face is struggling to maintain some kind of balance in the midst of anxiety. My prayer for each of us is that God’s mercy will pour into every crevice of our beings so that we may be grace-filled, and grace-full toward others.

Transitions

At our staff meeting this week, I realized that all of us are in transitions of sorts. Becky & Joe are working on their house. The sink and tub are in their bedroom while the bathroom gets re-done. Kate is moving into a new apartment. Jen is getting ready to move. My basement has got to get back together after being torn apart this year.

Not only do we have these physical kinds of transition, we also have other adjustments to make. Kate is settling into the office. Becky is coming up on her last days as DYYAM*, and getting ready to do a chaplaincy internship. Ashley will be moving over as our new DYYAM. Cyd will be coming in to work with Laurine in the Nursery. And Jeremy will be our new intern in about six weeks. As always, Jen and I are aware of how different every year is from the ones that went before, and we need to find a new balance. All of this calls for us to be gentle with each other.

A colleague is at a new congregation and is really excited about being there, but is finding that his energy is sapped quickly. Any time we have to negotiate new relationships, it takes a lot of energy. Not only do we have to learn new pathways, but the old relationships that were almost second nature to us have to give way to new ones. We don’t know how to read the signs and postures of people we don’t yet know well.

I don’t know about the rest of you, but with all this yet to be negotiated territory, I often find it difficult to find my own balance. I know that the future God is calling me towards is full of hope, and yet sometimes it is hard to step towards it.

* Director of Youth and Young Adult Ministries

2 Corinthians 5:17

So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!

Set Free

Several years ago, on a spiritual renewal weekend, there was a service that emphasized giving up, or dying, to those things that would hold us captive in our lives, particularly from following Jesus. To emphasize the things that bind us, each person's hands were wrapped fairly tightly in a chain. No one else held any part of another person's chain. We were asked to reflect upon those things that held us tightly bound, and then as we felt we could name them, we were asked to notice that, though the chain was tight around our wrists, the reality was we were the ones holding on to the chain that bound us. In an act to signify our freedom in Christ, real or hoped for, we were asked to remove the chain and nail it to a cross. While this was a powerful moment for many, it was also a painful moment for some as they realized the tightness of their bonds.

How often have I railed against something I felt was holding me in bondage--usually caused by another person's actions, attitudes or words. This has happened in almost every aspect of my life--marriage, parenting, pastoring and more. What I have come to realize is that just as the ends of those chains in that service were held only by me so too am I the only one truly holding myself in any kind of bondage. How difficult this has been for me to know and yet how freeing it is when I come to know it. In my relationships, either as wife, mother, pastor, friend, colleague, mentoree, mentor, subordinate, or supervisor, there is truly nothing that can hold me in chains unless I allow it. It is freeing to claim the fullness of a relationship and my part in it rather than be angry about how someone has kept me from something I wanted.

I can't go back and re-do my life, yet in perspective I can begin to judge parts of it differently, claiming my responsibility. This helps me to see the picture more clearly, and in the process, I find that I can love more deeply.

Romans 6:16-18

Do you not know that if you present yourselves to anyone as obedient slaves, you are slaves of the one whom you obey, either of sin, which leads to death, or of obedience, which leads to righteousness? But thanks be to God that you, having once been slaves of sin, have become obedient from the heart to the form of teaching to which you were entrusted, and that you, having been set free from sin, have become slaves of righteousness.

Higher Power

WOW! What a week we have had so far: the heat, the storm, the damage, the lack of power for so many! I went to bed last Friday night listening to the wind roaring through the trees. I awoke on Saturday to find so many branches of our trees on the ground, though not on the house. Thank goodness I had all the trees cleaned of dead and dying branches back in October.

On Sunday, we had a wonderful outdoor worship service since we had no power and thus no AC in the building. Several folks commented that it was like an old-time Methodist camp meeting. A photographer for the Washington Times, out taking pictures of the damage in the area, saw us gathering and took pictures. One was printed in the paper with the heading “Higher Power.”

We have come to rely on so many things that require power, not just for cooking and heating and cooling, but for our very entertainment. How easily bored we become when we can’t watch TV, play games on our devices, and surf the net. All those things can become distractions that keep us from connecting with the ultimate source of power.

As I watched the Falls Church fireworks display, I could feel the power of the explosions in my body. Oh, that I would be so aware of the power of God’s Spirit within me. It is this power that seeks to sustain me in the midst of difficulty and loss, as well as in times of ease and joy.

Jeremiah 51:16

When he utters his voice there is a tumult of waters in the heavens, and he makes the mist rise from the ends of the earth. He makes lightnings for the rain, and he brings out the wind from his storehouses.

One Year

One year. It was one year ago that the Capital Caring Hospice Center called me to tell that Jeff had died. While I knew it was coming, the news came as a surprise. Just the evening before they believed it would be a couple of more days. While the very end was peaceful, the way there had been hard. No matter how much faith we have, the unknown is still difficult, even fearful at times.

Jeff was a lot like his mom. He used to say that it was vanity that had kept her going for so long while dealing with Type 1 diabetes for so many years. She never wanted anyone to see her at less than her best. Then he would say it was vanity that kept him working out so much. He too never wanted anyone to see him at less than his best. Controlling that image was so important to him. Even as he left the house to ride in the medical transport to the Hospice Center, he would not let them bring a stretcher to carry him out. He insisted on walking out to it and even tried to climb into it himself.

I know that desire to maintain control as well. I want to present a strong face to the world. I don’t want others seeing me when I am weak, but I have learned over this year that I need others, that my strength is made greater when I let others near.

The way forward is an uncharted path in many ways. When I try to project too far down the path, I can feel the anxiety rise within me. I need to take it step by step, day by day, and keep in contact with those who lend me their strength.

Matthew 11:28-30

“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. 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.”

Memories Pressed Between the Pages of my Mind

Our VA Annual Conference begins tomorrow. We drove down to Roanoke today so we don't have to leave before the crack of dawn tomorrow.

For over twenty years, Jeff and I went to Annual Conference together. I loved gathering with friends and colleagues. He did to some degree though he wanted much more time alone. Ever since he "retired" eleven years ago, I had come alone. That was hard enough. Last year was the first year I have ever missed attending. Jeff was in the final stages of his bout with cancer.

For those nine years I would call to let him know that I got to Conference safely. Tonight, I was especially mindful that there was no one at home to call. I talked to my brother instead.

Max is here with me. He wanted to come. He has his own room. As I was going to his room for our prayers, I saw a friend--the spouse of a clergywomen. I told Max I would be back soon, and went to talk with Tammy and David.

Tomorrow night, we will have the Memorial Service when we will remember all the clergy and their spouses who have died since the last Annual Conference. Jeff's name will be read. Max will be sitting with me.

When I got back to my room after our prayer time, that old song came back to me: "memories pressed between the pages of my mind." Feeling tender here tonight.

Appreciation for my Mamma

When my father died twenty years ago this August, there were things my mother did that I didn’t really understand or appreciate at the time. He died Tuesday evening when I was returning to our home after being with him. I arrived home to hear the news. We packed and returned to Richmond that night. On Wednesday, Mamma directed Jeff and some others to take up all the plywood that had been laid on the floor to make Daddy’s wheelchair move around more easily. The hospital bed was removed immediately and their twin beds put back up. She said that it was because people would be coming over. It felt to me as though she were cleaning out reminders of my father’s illness and his last days. She also stopped wearing her wedding ring.

Over this past year, I have come to understand this some and appreciate my mother more. I too began moving furniture around and making changes in the house. I also stopped wearing my wedding ring. Only one person has ever asked me about it. My reply was that I had kept my wedding vows until we were parted by death. It wasn’t until quite some time had passed that I realized I had done similar things as my mother.

We all grieve in our own ways. Some people keep everything the same, and others do as my mother and I did. The legend of the phoenix is that the baby bird rises from the ashes of the old bird. Over this year, and I’m sure for a while yet to come, I have needed to stir the ashes of our life together in order to get a sense of the new life that will arise. I have glimpses of that new life. What it will be I do not yet know in full but I have hope as I wait for it.

Revelation 21:3-5a

And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them as their God; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; ⁴he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.” ⁵And the one who was seated on the throne said, “See, I am making all things new.”

This Month

I am not sure quite how I feel about this month. It is a busy time with the end of school this week, and then Annual Conference next week, and Jazz camp coming up after that. At work, we are all trying to figure out how we are going to manage the transition from Mirta to an as yet unknown person, as we also try to plan for the upheaval that everyone’s vacation plans throw into the mix. In some ways, all the focus and busy-ness is good because it doesn’t give me a lot of time for anything else.

Then at the end of the day, or at unexpected moments, I am intensely aware of our loss. A song evokes tears. Ads for Fathers’ Day gifts keep poking into my awareness, prodding tender spots.

I know that staying intensely busy can be a way of avoiding the abyss of grief. I have tried this year to find some balance in the midst of it all, sometimes coming to the edge of it but not falling in. I may look back years from now and see how I could have done it better but walking through the midst of this journey has had to be one step at a time, for better or worse.

Knowing that I don’t really walk this path alone sustains me. In words, gestures, looks, and actions, I (we) have been upheld by loving community. And for that I give thanks.

Matthew 11:28-30

“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. 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.”

Happiness

Today I read an article a mother wrote about ten things she wants her daughter to know before she turns ten. Actually, it was good for anyone of any age to know.  A link to that article is at the bottom of this note. The first thing was that “it is not your job to keep the people you love happy.” That is so true.

It’s not my job to make others happy. When I work to make or keep others happy, I most often am trying to second guess what their desires might be, and meet those desires even before they are expressed. I don’t allow for a genuine exchange of ideas or expression of their own hopes and dreams.

It’s not even my job to make myself happy. I find when I do things out of an attempt to be happy, I end up concentrating on the wrong things. I am further away from a true centered life. It’s kind of like when Paul says, “I don’t know what I’m doing, because I don’t do what I want to do. Instead, I do the thing that I hate.” [Rom 7:15] What a wretched way to live.

And it certainly is not God’s job to make me happy. There’s an awful lot of schlocky quasi-theological thoughts out there indicating that God’s blessings are in the form of giving me things or experiences that enhance my life, give me what I want, and make me happy. More often I find that God’s blessings call me out of myself, even make me at least a bit uncomfortable. It’s when I wrestle with these blessings that I am so centered in God’s presence that it doesn’t matter to me whether I am happy or not.

The best and most honest thing I can do towards happiness, mine and others, is to pray for God’s mercy, and let God work out how that mercy will flow.

Matthew 5:8-9

"You're blessed when you get your inside world—your mind and heart—put right. Then you can see God in the outside world.

"You're blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight. That's when you discover who you really are, and your place in God's family.” [The Message]

Article on Ten Things.

Too Many Tools

This past week has been an incredible time of getting things in order. Jeff’s brother Denny and his wife Jill spent the week with us, using their wonderful gifts of organizing, repairing and installing. They were able to make sense and order of a chaos that overwhelmed, and depressed, me. As Denny sorted all the tools, he commented on how many there are. He’s right. We had tools that were original to us, tools that were given to Jeff by the widow of a man Jeff visited and buried as a pastor, tools that had come from my parents, and tools that had come from Jeff’s dad. Can you say, “too many tools”? There are so many that I had no way of knowing what was in the inventory. Now, thanks to Denny and Jill, they are organized and stored in such a way that I can see them and decide which ones I need to keep and which ones can be given away.

Jeff used to say I was “paper challenged.” I become overwhelmed when there are too many things to sort. Details are not my strongest point, and yet managing a house, a family, a church all require paying attention to details. I am becoming more and more aware that I long for simplicity, and fewer things to manage. It is so hard to face all of it, and know what is really important.

I know that I wouldn’t really be comfortable living a monastic life style, but there are moments I long for the simplicity and order. I long for more “Mary” moments in my “Martha” life.

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.”

Holy Spirit Gifts

With the celebration of Pentecost upon us, I have been thinking of the power of the Holy Spirit to renew and transform our lives. Whether we believe it or not, we have been and are gifted by the Holy Spirit. It is often hard to believe that we have been gifted. We tend to think that we just do what we do rather than seeing that as gift, as something that builds up the Body of Christ.

I give thanks for so many who use the gifts they have been given by God:

• ·      For those who organize activities for the youth
• ·      For those who make music for the glory of God
• ·      For those who invite and welcome others into the life of the church
• ·      For those who give so faithfully to make ministry and mission happen
• ·      For those who help order the administrative life of the church so that ministry and mission can happen
• ·      For those who see a nearly unused plot of ground and make it a garden that will feed others
• ·      For those who give of their time to empty rain drums in the elevator machine room
• ·      For those who create beauty to give glory to God
• ·      For those who teach so that our children will know of God’s grace and mercy
• ·      For those who pray so faithfully for those who need healing and for the church
• ·      And this week I am especially thankful for family who comes miles out of their way to make life a bit more manageable

All of these and so many more are how we see the visible work of the gifts of the Holy Spirit which are poured out on us.

Blow, Spirit, blow your holy wind upon us. Gift us anew, and help us see and use our gifts for your work of transforming the world.

Classic Plot Line

This week I am in Atlanta attending the Festival of Homiletics. What are homiletics, you ask? Preaching. For four-and-a-half days, I am immersed in sermons, lectures about sermons and worship. It has been a rich experience thus far, and promises even more.

Craig Barnes, one of those who preached and then gave a lecture, spoke about the classic plot line from ancient times until today. Orientation. Disorientation. Re-orientation. Life is going along. Whether smoothly or not, it is a pattern to which we have become accustomed. Then some crisis occurs—health, death, war, crime, whatever—and the pattern of life becomes disoriented and we are impelled into an epic journey. At some point, there comes a resolution, a re-orientation where we at least have gained some insight, and maybe even a sense of peace.

On this plotline, the primary interest is in the second stage because that’s where the drama is, that’s where we will make decisions about our life. Will we simply grieve over what we have lost or will we turn towards the new future? Do we simply settle into a new pattern whatever it is or do we reach for hope?

A lot of what I have been dealing with over the past year has been in that second stage of the plotline—disorientation. The patterns of my life changed drastically with Jeff’s illness and death. I don’t know how long this second stage will last. What will the shape of my life look like? I don’t know. I do know that while I grieve our loss, I am also looking forward. This time in the middle is just going to have to be somewhat uncomfortable while I travel the road of disorientation.

I also know, as Barnes reminded us, that Jesus stood outside the tomb and called Lazarus forth into life. It was Lazarus’ choice to move towards life and hope.

John 11:43-44

When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, ‘Lazarus, come out!’ The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, ‘Unbind him, and let him go.’

All the Plans

On Monday afternoon, I went to the National Cathedral for our intern Dave’s graduation. Walking from the parking garage to the front of the Cathedral, I encountered a small wrought iron fence enclosing three pieces of stonework. These were chipped portions of the spires that were damaged in the earthquake last August. I remembered how that very area in front of the Cathedral used to be covered with all the stones that would eventually be used to build those towers. I so enjoyed watching the progress over the years as the collection of stones in the yard grow smaller while the towers of Sts. Peter and Paul soared higher. And now some of those very stones are back on the ground damaged.

Then sitting in the Cathedral, I looked up at the beautiful south-facing rose window and noticed that it looked shadowed. Shading my eyes from the glare of the spotlights, I saw that a great black metal mesh has been put in place over the entire interior of the nave and chancel areas. It’s far enough above heads as not to be too intrusive, and yet it’s a reminder of the fragility of even something as substantial as the Cathedral.

It took 83 years to complete this building, which weighs 150,000 tons. The central tower soars 30 stories high. It is a masterpiece of art and craft, bringing glory to the eye and mind of even the most cynical observer. And yet, one earthquake causes enough damage to close it for months, and it will take years to repair.

As I think about this, I am reminded of how all my plans to cover all contingencies that could possibly occur can so easily be brought to naught. I am reminded again of how small I am in the scheme of things. I am reminded that my only security is trusting in God, and that does not mean that I will not fail, or suffer, or die. It simply means that in God who is the Creator and Redeemer of all is the only place I can rest secure at any time and for all time. Not that I shouldn’t make plans and preparations, but I need to keep it all in perspective and not feel so crushed when my plans don’t work out. And this helps me to put even the General Conference of the UMC in perspective. 

Psalm 8:3-4, 9

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?

O Lord, our Sovereign, how majestic is your name in all the earth!

Let Nothing Upset You

When I was much younger, as a child and youth, I was easily susceptible to tickling. I could quickly end up in a heap on the floor. This made me very uncomfortable. I resolved to change that. Over time, I controlled my reactions so tightly that not much would tickle me.

When I was in college and even in seminary, I remember some times when I wept deeply, almost uncontrollably. Over time, though without quite the same intentional effort I had made about tickling, I became less prone to weeping. I can still choke up with an emotional story, or watching a movie (my boys have always teased me about that), but I find that in close personal situations my tears last only a few seconds.

It could be a way of shutting my emotions down, I realize, but I also realize that becoming victim to my emotions will not help me deal with the realities of life. I recently came across this poem by Teresa of Avila, the 16^th century mystic. I find it to be centering and healing in the midst of turmoil.

Let nothing upset you,


Let nothing startle you.


All things pass;


God does not change.


Patience wins all it seeks.


Whoever has God lacks nothing:


God alone is enough.

Teresa of Avila

Romans 8:31

What then are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us?

A Wedding, The Table, and Wounds

I love the United Methodist wedding service. Probably my favorite part is the Dismissal with Blessing, where I say: “Bear witness to the love of God in this world, so that those to whom love is a stranger will find in you generous friends.” It takes a marriage beyond a twosome to include the world. Another part I like is the Blessing of the Marriage. It encompasses all of their lives. Two portions of it are: “Bless them in their work and in their companionship; in their sleeping and in their waking; in their joys and in their sorrows; in their lives and in their deaths. Finally, by your grace, bring them and all of us to that table where your saints feast for ever in your heavenly home.”

This past Saturday I was the celebrant for a beautifully simple wedding ceremony for two non-members. For them, their primary goal in the wedding was the beginning of a marriage, a life-long partnership. I had enjoyed working with them in the process. When I came to the above portions of the Blessing, I suddenly had to work hard to keep my voice under control. This was the first wedding I have done since Jeff died.  In many ways, I have made peace with this fact, but to come face-to-face with awareness of it in new situations is still hard.

Actually the hardest part of those words for me this time was not the finality of death, but the image of the table. I know that table is for all those who come home to live with God, but in Jeff’s conversion he began to have a very different view. He worried that I would not be there because I would not convert with him. I pray for healing of the wounds this caused between us. And right now, I hold to the affirmation, “In life, in death, in life beyond death, God is with us. We are not alone.”

Revelation 21:3-4

I heard a loud voice from the throne say, “Look! God’s dwelling is here with humankind. He will dwell with them, and they will be his peoples. God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more. There will be no mourning, crying, or pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” [CEB]

The Shuttle

I missed it! Working at my computer in the office with my back to the window, I didn’t even think to look outside to see the shuttle on its last flight. Suddenly FaceBook was alive with photos taken by friends. I enjoyed seeing it from their perspectives—flying past the dome of the U.S. Capital, flying past the home of a friend in Fredericksburg, from the Iwo Jima Memorial, from Centreville UMC, and so many more.

I remember the first landing of the shuttle. It was on April 14, 1981. I was at a Winchester District clergy meeting. The TV was turned on so that we could watch this historic event. I was just as thrilled as I was in 1962 watching the first orbit of the earth by John Glenn. I mourned with the rest of our nation in 1986 when Challenger exploded on takeoff, and then again in 2003 as Columbia disintegrated over Texas.

Even though I missed seeing the shuttle’s last flight, my imagination is still captured. It’s a reminder to me that the universe is much larger than just the little piece of it I see each day. The views of the earth from space show the beauty of this part of God’s creation. The images from the Hubble telescope expand my horizons. The view of time seen in a composite view from the WMAP leaves me in awe at the wonder of all that God has set in motion, and all I can do is offer my praise.

Psalm 8:3-4

When I look up at your skies,

at what your fingers made—

the moon and the stars

that you set firmly in place—

what are human beings

that you think about them;

what are human beings

that you pay attention to them? [CEB]

When Joy Feels Far Away

There are times in life when joy feels good and bouncy, when all seems right with the world, and everything just purrs along. Then there are times when things don’t just purr along, and things seem off at least a notch or two. When the time is purring, praise songs come so naturally. It’s easy to given thanks. It’s not so easy at other times.

We’ve just celebrated the Resurrection in a really glorious way together. And deep in my spirit the joy resounds, but at times it’s hard to know it nearer the surface. Today, I was suddenly caught by memory and felt very raw. At moments like that, I don’t feel joyful. What I can give thanks for in moments like this is that the joy of Resurrection is real and doesn’t depend on how I feel at any particular moment.

In the midst of it all, I heard from two friends connecting out of the blue from other times and places in my life. It’s important to remember that I am not alone in this journey. Friends and companions along the way help remind me of that. In some way, they are the voice of Jesus calling my name.

John 20:16, 18

Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!”… Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord.”

Endings and beginnings

Endings and beginnings, all in there together. “In our end is our beginning, in our time, infinity,…in our death, a resurrection,…unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.”^*

That Thursday, the disciples sat with Jesus around the table, having their feet washed, hearing his strange words with the bread and the cup, but still not realizing that an ending was very near. When it came, most of them weren’t there because in fear they had run away. Afterwards, they sat in the room together in sorrow and fear, not realizing that a beginning was taking place.

Fear is what often keeps us from fully experiencing the holiness of our endings and our beginnings. My brother-in-law Alan, in facing his time with open eyes and heart, is a witness to trusting in the One who is our home now and beyond now.

During these three holiest of days, our endings and our beginnings are so close together. Somehow, may we go beyond the fear of the ending and step forward in trust that the beginning is with the One who loves us beyond all measure.

^*Hymn of Promise, by Natalie Sleeth, 1986.