Friday about noon, J called to tell me that she & Pie would probably be able to come down after all. I was thrilled because it was the weekend of my installation (making my pastorship at my church official) & we'd thought she would have to work Saturday & not be able to come down. About 5, she called to say they'd arrive about 10 or 10:30, with Pie's girlfriend, Bubbles, too. I finished up my hospital visits & went back to my office to finish some paperwork for the weekend. I got back to my aunt's about 10:45 to find Pie & Bubbles playing video games, J asleep on the other couch & everyone else asleep in their bedrooms. My aunt usually lets us sleep in her double bed, but she has been so busy with work that I think she forgot J & the kids were coming. Since we get so little time together these days, we decided both to sleep in my twin bed. That was not a very restful way to sleep!
Saturday morning, we took the kids to a place called Young's Dairy that has a restaurant & goats & cows you can pet. It's just outside my hometown of Yellow Springs, a town the kids love (Pie has dubbed it Hippietown) & want to live in when they are grown & married. We had breakfast, then went out & fed & petted the goats for a long time. On the way back to town, we saw a huge sunflower field. People were stopped by the side of the road taking pictures, so we decided to stop, too. Pie had a photo project for his photography class & I've just been into taking pics lately. J snapped a really good one of me. Then, we went & poked around my hometown, taking photos, reading the paper (I was on the front page of the paper for being the first openly lesbian pastor to be installed in the area...I was informed that I'm a pioneer...I think that's such a small part of who I am, but it was a good article) & people-watching. There are a bunch of cool little stores there & we checked out the latest arrivals in them, too. The kids wanted to go to the playground at the elementary school, so we did that, then we took them to get vegan ice cream. We dropped them off with my aunt, changed clothes and headed out to a spaghetti dinner and to hear Phillip Gulley speak at the church where I did my first internship. It was really fun to see all the people we used to go to church with and Gulley was a terrific speaker (probably his most well-known book is "If Grace Is True"). The pastor there is a friend of mine & he made a big deal of the article in the paper, spending a good 5 minutes introducing me, too. It was kind of odd, but nice, too. I also connected with a friend who is running the youth program there & we are planning to do joint events with our youth groups. J & I slept in the twin bed again. Sigh. This is getting kind of old. I hope she gets a great job down here soon so we can be in our own place. I adore my auntie & have a lot of fun with her, but my own home would just be wonderful.
J slept in while I went to the early worship service. Our attendance was down because most of the early folks waited for the second service so they could be there for my installation. The second service was pretty full and very lively! Our choir director had selected all the choir's pieces based on my musical tastes. That was sweet. He & his partner gave me a lovely glass cross as an installation gift. The installation went smoothly, as did my commissioning of this year's church school teachers. Some friends of mine from the church I grew up in came for the celebration, which was a great surprise. We also got several visitors due to the article in the paper. There were a couple of men I assume are gay, who are church shopping right now, and a woman came & told me that she hadn't been to church in over 30 years & came Sunday because of the article. Good stuff. My parishioners were all very congratulatory & joked with me about my new celebrity status. After worship, we headed across the street to the house our church owns for the celebration picnic. We ate great food, talked with great people & dedicated our peace pole, fire pit & new electronic sign.
After the picnic, I went back to my aunt's with J to see her & the kids off. It's always hard to watch her go. Luckily, I get to go up there on Wednesday for a few days. After they drove off, I worked on youth group planning, then went & got doughnuts & met the Jr. High kids for the first youth group meeting. I'd been told I'd have no one at youth group until December or January, but I had 3 Jr. Highs & then 4 Sr. Highs for their later group! They even talked! Yippee! We talked about what we want from youth group, but also about the faith practice of hospitality. We did a little Bible study, some word association poetry, some talking about how people in other cultures show hospitality & some talking about how we can show hospitality. For their "homework," I assigned them to each write down 5 ideas for random acts of kindness they can do between now & the next meeting. They are supposed to do them & report back to the group on how it went. Great group of kids! I am truly blessed to be where I am!
Monday, September 13, 2010
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Working for the Good of All: A Sermon on Galatians 6: 1-10
When I was preparing for this week’s worship service and discovered that one of the lectionary texts was the Galatians passage you just heard Mike read, I had to laugh. In addition to preparing for today’s worship service, I was preparing to accompany eight senior high students and two other chaperones to Norwalk, Ohio for our mission trip. For the past six years, David’s UCC has taken a group of youth to Norwalk to work on a Habitat for Humanity build. This trip is all about working for the good of all.
Now, I’d been on a few mission trips before and already had some expectations for what this trip might be like. I was the only newbie this year and I figured that the kids wouldn’t be returning if the trip weren’t deeply meaningful for them. But I didn’t realize what kind of dedication these kids were showing by heading for Norwalk each year. On my previous mission trips, the accommodations have included beds and the work schedule has been fairly lenient. The tasks have been significantly lighter than those required by home-building. I have painted dorms at the Appalachian Folk Life Center in Pipestem, WV and stained wood siding at a UCC camp in Ripon, WI. I’ve sorted through a storage area at a women’s shelter to discard unneeded items and cleaned preschool chairs and tables. I’d never eaten breakfast before 8:30 a.m. on a mission trip and the supervisors have always been keenly aware that our group consisted of novices, both teenagers and grown women.
The Habitat trip is nothing like I expected, even with the fear of drywall laid upon my heart. This is serious, hardcore mission work. We were awoken each morning at 6 (before that on Friday) by Jim’s electronic rooster and we hit the floor. After a quick cereal breakfast, we tied on our nail aprons and climbed into the van to head to the work site. No lazybones 8 a.m. wake-up for us! At the jobsite, the kids amazed me with their willingness to get right to work and with their wide array of construction skills. Now, y’all don’t know me very well yet, but Jeannene and I hire just about anything related to home repair out to professionals. We have been known to hire a handyman to come hang pictures for us. I had a serious learning curve all week. For the kids, getting up on the roof and doing shingle work was nothing. Snapping siding into place and nailing it in? No biggie. Ascending towering scaffolding to enable soffit work? Sure, no problem. Insulation and drywall? You can count on them! Even in the face of the most curmudgeonly of Habitat supervisors, the kids maintained their cool. Being required to shower at the rec center, in bathing suits, without being offered a refreshing swim didn’t seem to faze these teens one bit. It’s just what you do at Habitat.
I can’t say I remained as cheery. To be honest, by Wednesday, I was berating myself for having ridden up in the van rather than driving myself. On Friday, I very nearly quit altogether, fantasizing about sulking in the van with my book for the rest of the day, after having my first close encounter with the formidable Roger. I am convinced that had he been there all week and had there been another female chaperone, I would have been calling my aunt and begging her for a ride home, despite how much I was enjoying getting to know these very cool kids.
I was basically a big baby about the whole experience. The kids, they took all the hard work in stride. I honestly didn’t hear anyone seriously complaining about getting up at the crack of dawn. And when Roger sniped at them, it rolled off their backs like water off a duck. You always hear adults in churches and out in the wide world talking about how lazy teenagers are, how hard it is to communicate with them, how kids these days don’t care about anything but their own wants and desires, kids these days are all wrapped up in themselves. I have always argued against this assessment, but I just got a whole week of ammo for my defense of teenagers.
The teens at David’s Church go on this mission trip not because it’s a chance to visit an exciting new place. Norwalk is lovely and the glossy black squirrels are most impressive, but it’s certainly not Myrtle Beach or Colorado or Maine, where colleagues of mine took their youth this year. They go not because they get to do all kinds of fun activities. Yes, they went kayaking on Wednesday, but for the most part, they worked. They just worked hard and rested. They go not because they have nothing better to do. They are each giving up opportunities, opportunities for summer leisure time, opportunities to work for pay, opportunities to go to camps, all sacrificed to do this work. They go because they feel this call of which Paul speaks, to work for the good of all and to help others carry burdens which have become too heavy to carry alone.
Over the years they have been working together, they’ve developed a kind of easy rapport and a knack for working well together. They extend their gracious approach to newcomers, as well. The kids showed a remarkable lack of judgment for deficiencies (especially mine), instead working to teach the deficient person (and I hope you’re hearing that as “Daria”) how to do something correctly. I can’t say that for all the adults on the scene, but the kids were remarkably gentle with one another and the other chaperones were patient, as well. When I was hammering and hammering and getting nowhere, Rachel gently advised me to hold the hammer closer to the bottom, explaining why this would be a help. When I wasn’t strong enough or skilled enough to complete a task, one kid or another jumped right in to help carry the burden. When I was in tears after being not-so-gently corrected by Roger, more than one member of the group approached me to offer encouragement. When the teenagers are ministering to the pastor, you know this is a special group of kids. This is a group of kids living out Jesus’ teaching, a group of kids following Paul’s advice to the Galatians, working for the good of all.
I was especially impressed with the group after we met the homeowners, a Muslim couple and their four kids. In the current climate, one might expect a Christian group to be turned off by the idea that their labor would be for the benefit of a Muslim family. When I was in Santa Fe for a two-week trans-cultural ministry class, I had the opportunity to see anti-Muslim sentiment up close. Our group had been invited to visit with a Muslim couple in their home in Abiquiu. They were such gracious hosts, offering us tea and pastries, making certain we were comfortable, engaging in dialogue with us about the commonalities and differences in our respective religions and worldviews. Honestly, I found that we had more in common than different. However, three members of our group opted not even to enter the building, instead sitting on the front porch in the hot sun rather than deigning to enter the home of a Muslim couple. These were supposedly mature Christians, failing to show the love of Christ. The group from David’s, on the other hand, didn’t show a bit of surprise or dismay upon discovering that they were helping a family who practice Islam rather than Christianity. It made me proud of them.
Compassion trumps judgment. We could have looked at the Muslim family, seen their difference and chosen not to work on that house for them. However, it is not our place to judge the religion of another. That’s between them & God. It is our place to work for the good of all…and that all sometimes includes people who don’t feel like “ours.” However, in the excited videotaping of the homebuilding, the interactions between parents and children, the breaking of bread together, we saw the sameness beyond the difference.
Today we are celebrating our country’s evolution from being under British rule to becoming the great nation we are today, honoring the sacrifices that have made that transition possible, enjoying all the amazing freedoms we Americans have. One of these freedoms is difference. In the midst of the fireworks and festivities, the parades and the pies, I’d like us all to take a few moments to think about freedom the way Paul would have thought about it. For Paul, and for all who would faithfully follow Christ, our freedom is not in place so that we might indulge ourselves and use it for selfish purposes. We have been given freedom in order that we might use that gift to serve one another. When we use our freedom wrongfully, as the popular culture would have us do, we are not truly free. It is only in the service of others that we can be free. We are called to be an alternative community, not treating one another as the world would, but with true kindness. The power of the Holy Spirit working in us makes this possible. A life of service and kindness is a truly radical thing in this world. We are called to be set apart from the world, to embrace this radical notion of sharing burdens and being gentle in correction.
We are also not meant to compare ourselves to others, either for good or for bad. We are all given grace and faith in different measures, we are all given different gifts for ministry. The church ladies who brought lunch to us on the job site were in ministry just as faithfully as everyone toiling with the roof shingles or the insulation. We can all lift burdens in different ways. Perhaps we can build a house. Maybe we have been blessed with money with which to support the work of charities. Some of you have musical gifts, others listen with great attention and empathy, still more are amazing cooks. We don’t all have to work for the common good in the same way. What’s important is that we are listening for God’s voice imparting our own particular gifts, looking for opportunities to help shoulder the burdens of others and always, always working for the good of all.
Now, I’d been on a few mission trips before and already had some expectations for what this trip might be like. I was the only newbie this year and I figured that the kids wouldn’t be returning if the trip weren’t deeply meaningful for them. But I didn’t realize what kind of dedication these kids were showing by heading for Norwalk each year. On my previous mission trips, the accommodations have included beds and the work schedule has been fairly lenient. The tasks have been significantly lighter than those required by home-building. I have painted dorms at the Appalachian Folk Life Center in Pipestem, WV and stained wood siding at a UCC camp in Ripon, WI. I’ve sorted through a storage area at a women’s shelter to discard unneeded items and cleaned preschool chairs and tables. I’d never eaten breakfast before 8:30 a.m. on a mission trip and the supervisors have always been keenly aware that our group consisted of novices, both teenagers and grown women.
The Habitat trip is nothing like I expected, even with the fear of drywall laid upon my heart. This is serious, hardcore mission work. We were awoken each morning at 6 (before that on Friday) by Jim’s electronic rooster and we hit the floor. After a quick cereal breakfast, we tied on our nail aprons and climbed into the van to head to the work site. No lazybones 8 a.m. wake-up for us! At the jobsite, the kids amazed me with their willingness to get right to work and with their wide array of construction skills. Now, y’all don’t know me very well yet, but Jeannene and I hire just about anything related to home repair out to professionals. We have been known to hire a handyman to come hang pictures for us. I had a serious learning curve all week. For the kids, getting up on the roof and doing shingle work was nothing. Snapping siding into place and nailing it in? No biggie. Ascending towering scaffolding to enable soffit work? Sure, no problem. Insulation and drywall? You can count on them! Even in the face of the most curmudgeonly of Habitat supervisors, the kids maintained their cool. Being required to shower at the rec center, in bathing suits, without being offered a refreshing swim didn’t seem to faze these teens one bit. It’s just what you do at Habitat.
I can’t say I remained as cheery. To be honest, by Wednesday, I was berating myself for having ridden up in the van rather than driving myself. On Friday, I very nearly quit altogether, fantasizing about sulking in the van with my book for the rest of the day, after having my first close encounter with the formidable Roger. I am convinced that had he been there all week and had there been another female chaperone, I would have been calling my aunt and begging her for a ride home, despite how much I was enjoying getting to know these very cool kids.
I was basically a big baby about the whole experience. The kids, they took all the hard work in stride. I honestly didn’t hear anyone seriously complaining about getting up at the crack of dawn. And when Roger sniped at them, it rolled off their backs like water off a duck. You always hear adults in churches and out in the wide world talking about how lazy teenagers are, how hard it is to communicate with them, how kids these days don’t care about anything but their own wants and desires, kids these days are all wrapped up in themselves. I have always argued against this assessment, but I just got a whole week of ammo for my defense of teenagers.
The teens at David’s Church go on this mission trip not because it’s a chance to visit an exciting new place. Norwalk is lovely and the glossy black squirrels are most impressive, but it’s certainly not Myrtle Beach or Colorado or Maine, where colleagues of mine took their youth this year. They go not because they get to do all kinds of fun activities. Yes, they went kayaking on Wednesday, but for the most part, they worked. They just worked hard and rested. They go not because they have nothing better to do. They are each giving up opportunities, opportunities for summer leisure time, opportunities to work for pay, opportunities to go to camps, all sacrificed to do this work. They go because they feel this call of which Paul speaks, to work for the good of all and to help others carry burdens which have become too heavy to carry alone.
Over the years they have been working together, they’ve developed a kind of easy rapport and a knack for working well together. They extend their gracious approach to newcomers, as well. The kids showed a remarkable lack of judgment for deficiencies (especially mine), instead working to teach the deficient person (and I hope you’re hearing that as “Daria”) how to do something correctly. I can’t say that for all the adults on the scene, but the kids were remarkably gentle with one another and the other chaperones were patient, as well. When I was hammering and hammering and getting nowhere, Rachel gently advised me to hold the hammer closer to the bottom, explaining why this would be a help. When I wasn’t strong enough or skilled enough to complete a task, one kid or another jumped right in to help carry the burden. When I was in tears after being not-so-gently corrected by Roger, more than one member of the group approached me to offer encouragement. When the teenagers are ministering to the pastor, you know this is a special group of kids. This is a group of kids living out Jesus’ teaching, a group of kids following Paul’s advice to the Galatians, working for the good of all.
I was especially impressed with the group after we met the homeowners, a Muslim couple and their four kids. In the current climate, one might expect a Christian group to be turned off by the idea that their labor would be for the benefit of a Muslim family. When I was in Santa Fe for a two-week trans-cultural ministry class, I had the opportunity to see anti-Muslim sentiment up close. Our group had been invited to visit with a Muslim couple in their home in Abiquiu. They were such gracious hosts, offering us tea and pastries, making certain we were comfortable, engaging in dialogue with us about the commonalities and differences in our respective religions and worldviews. Honestly, I found that we had more in common than different. However, three members of our group opted not even to enter the building, instead sitting on the front porch in the hot sun rather than deigning to enter the home of a Muslim couple. These were supposedly mature Christians, failing to show the love of Christ. The group from David’s, on the other hand, didn’t show a bit of surprise or dismay upon discovering that they were helping a family who practice Islam rather than Christianity. It made me proud of them.
Compassion trumps judgment. We could have looked at the Muslim family, seen their difference and chosen not to work on that house for them. However, it is not our place to judge the religion of another. That’s between them & God. It is our place to work for the good of all…and that all sometimes includes people who don’t feel like “ours.” However, in the excited videotaping of the homebuilding, the interactions between parents and children, the breaking of bread together, we saw the sameness beyond the difference.
Today we are celebrating our country’s evolution from being under British rule to becoming the great nation we are today, honoring the sacrifices that have made that transition possible, enjoying all the amazing freedoms we Americans have. One of these freedoms is difference. In the midst of the fireworks and festivities, the parades and the pies, I’d like us all to take a few moments to think about freedom the way Paul would have thought about it. For Paul, and for all who would faithfully follow Christ, our freedom is not in place so that we might indulge ourselves and use it for selfish purposes. We have been given freedom in order that we might use that gift to serve one another. When we use our freedom wrongfully, as the popular culture would have us do, we are not truly free. It is only in the service of others that we can be free. We are called to be an alternative community, not treating one another as the world would, but with true kindness. The power of the Holy Spirit working in us makes this possible. A life of service and kindness is a truly radical thing in this world. We are called to be set apart from the world, to embrace this radical notion of sharing burdens and being gentle in correction.
We are also not meant to compare ourselves to others, either for good or for bad. We are all given grace and faith in different measures, we are all given different gifts for ministry. The church ladies who brought lunch to us on the job site were in ministry just as faithfully as everyone toiling with the roof shingles or the insulation. We can all lift burdens in different ways. Perhaps we can build a house. Maybe we have been blessed with money with which to support the work of charities. Some of you have musical gifts, others listen with great attention and empathy, still more are amazing cooks. We don’t all have to work for the common good in the same way. What’s important is that we are listening for God’s voice imparting our own particular gifts, looking for opportunities to help shoulder the burdens of others and always, always working for the good of all.
Life Among the Divided: a Sermon on Luke 12: 49-56
I had a lengthy Facebook chat this week with a friend who lives in Texas. She is right smack in the middle of a crisis of faith and needed someone to talk to. She said she got a nudge to contact me, so she did. She and her partner have been having a rough time of it. Her partner lost an assistant principal job because she refused to lie about the nature of her relationship with my friend. Her partner has another job, but lives in fear of losing that one, as well. My friend, also a teacher, is unable to find a job in that area. Their daughter was recently in a very serious car accident and their son just received a diagnosis of autism. Now, they are certainly not alone in job issues, car accidents, diagnoses of autism. What makes all of this particularly hard is not being able to find a church home, not having a family of faith, a cloud of witnesses, to help them stay strong and persevere in their faith in spite of the hardships in their lives. Most of the churches in their area wouldn’t be particularly welcoming of a family like theirs. The church my friend grew up in taught her to hate and fear people like her. The welcoming churches they’ve visited seem to have some serious internal divisions. Add to those divisions the fear that someone might find out they’re going to “the gay church” and the only job in the household could be lost and you have a problem. Isolation hurts.
I wished I had some clear words of comfort for my friend. I wished I had wisdom. All I could offer was a willing ear, some book titles and the advice to start a gratitude journal. She thanked me for the chat & said it helped just to feel heard. Just to feel heard. Shouldn’t everyone get to feel heard on a regular basis? But this is life among the divided. Sure, some of us have stronger support systems than my friend does right now. I know, though, how isolated I have felt at times and I expect there isn’t one person here who hasn’t felt alone at one time or another.
I’ll be honest with you. When I first read the texts for this week (and even well into the week), I thought, “What? Did Brian decide he didn’t want to do these and urge his parents to choose this weekend for their anniversary celebration?” The texts this week are hard ones, ones we don’t really want to hear. You can’t imagine how tempted I was just to celebrate the Assumption of Mary, this week’s alternate texts, and avoid all of this talk of God making the vineyard that bore wild grapes a waste, these stories of the faithful being tortured and cut in half, this idea that Jesus came to bring fire and division to the earth rather than peace. I was so averse to dealing with these difficult texts, in fact, that I knew I must wrestle with them. That’s one of my operating theories. If I am finding myself avoiding something, perhaps it’s exactly what I need to do. So, I dove into the texts.
I started asking questions. Why would Jesus come to divide us when what God desires is a world where all may be one, where love is the most important commandment & people treat it as such? That makes no sense. Then I started to think about it the way I think about the crucifixion. God didn’t require that Jesus be crucified. It was the inevitable response of our flawed nature to his radical message of love. We got so scared by that message that we had to kill the messenger. And we’re still scared. The idea of love runs so counter to our brokenness that we are unable to approach it with any kind of openness. We are much more comfortable arguing for division than taking the risk of radically opening up to others. I have a dear friend who feels completely isolated from her family. The other day, she mused to me that her separation from her family is largely due to her feeling like she had to put up a protective wall. People in our country are in hot debate over differences, not realizing that the debate and arguing and emphasis on our differences is blocking the opportunity for the kind of love and peace God wants us to have. We argue over immigration, over same-sex marriage, over the construction of mosques. Why do we argue? Because we’re afraid. We’re afraid of difference. We’re afraid of scarcity. We’re afraid of change. It is so now, it was so when Jesus walked the earth.
At the point when he told his disciples that he came to bring division, he was about halfway through his ministry. He’d had a chance to observe how people were reacting to his message. Yes, there was great joy on the part of some of the people, joy in his healing, in his message of love, in his presence. But others were frightened of the upheaval he brought. For with Jesus’ radical message of love comes the necessity to talk about distressing things, things we’d rather just avoid, things like oppression and justice, social change and personal change. I’m sure all of you know of churches that seem calm and peaceful but have unaddressed conflict roiling under the surface. Everyone seems to get along because they are polite to one another and smile nicely on Sundays as they greet one another. Really, though, there is nothing underneath, no bonds of love and support.
The notion that everything is better, easier, if we just don’t talk about problems is threaded all through human society. The Pax Romana, that famous period of peace at the height of the power of the Roman Empire, did not bring peace in any true sense. The so-called peace was maintained with an iron glove and there was no justice in that peace. It’s just that no one dared to rise against the oppression. Without justice, widespread justice, peace is a lie. The churches that didn’t want to deal with the issue of slavery because they didn’t want to split, because they wanted to maintain peace within the denomination, were not gaining peace. They were only gaining avoidance. Better to get the problems out in the fresh air and handle them, better to go through the pain and struggle and gain resolution than to keep everything tucked away and hope it doesn’t pop up.
The same is true in marriages. You hear about couples who haven’t fought for years, only to have it come out that they also haven’t shared good times or dealt with the problems. The same is true in our personal lives. I believe that we are divided against ourselves a good lot of the time. We know what the right thing to do is, for ourselves, for those we love, for the world. And we know that we are scared to open that can of worms, whatever brand our particular can of worms might be. It’s easier just not to deal with it, to pretend our inner conflict doesn’t exist. So we compartmentalize, we live among the divided. Jesus came so that we wouldn’t have to be divided, came to bring a message of love and true peace. Our fear brings the division. Jesus’ defiance of traditional societal ways of bringing meaning and cohesion to life was bound to bring conflict and division. To so radically challenge something so core as family, to demand allegiance to his own message of radical inclusion and extravagant welcome above family and all other societal laws was certainly going to be divisive. It still is, simply because of who we are. Peace at all costs is not Jesus’ peace. Maintaining the oppressive, unjust status quo in order to maintain peace is not the peace of Christ. Neville Chamberlain spoke in 1938 about “Peace for Our Time,” after the Munich agreement that allowed Hitler to occupy the Sudetenland in Czechoslovakia. It may have seemed like an agreement for peace, but it certainly wasn’t peace for the Jewish people in the Sudetenland, who lost their rights, and it ultimately wasn’t peace for Britain, either. When we read the weather rightly, read what is really going on and are willing to confront it, even at the cost of disturbing the peace, that is the kind of true peace Jesus came to bring. Tom Mullen says, “My religious denomination is the Society of Friends…I learned upon joining the Quakers that they attack large social and moral problems with conscientious determination. They work for peace---and if you really want to cause conflict, work for peace.” He’s right. It brings up all those icky things we don’t want to confront. But peace can only be built if there is truth, justice, equality and respect.
Does this mean Jesus didn’t bring the fire, either? That the fire is of our making, as well? I don’t think it does. I think Jesus definitely came to bring fire to the earth. It’s just that we, with our terrified little minds that are always working to see how we might be hurt, interpret that fire differently than I believe Jesus meant it. When I first read that, I thought of destructive fire, the sort of fire that burned heretics and destroys acres of forest. But then I started thinking about fire. One of the strongest images of fire for me is connected intimately with my mom. Walking through cold & dark November woods, with increasingly weak flashlights barely making a dent in the blackness of night, enduring the rain that is inevitable the first time I bring someone new to my mom’s place comes to mind. We hike for about 20 minutes. If the new person is not used to being out in the woods, not only are they cold and wet, but they are afraid of wild beasts (or madmen) lurking in the woods. The hike is hard even when it’s dry, but it’s exhausting and dispiriting when it’s muddy. Just when we think we can’t take another minute, though, we rise up out of a dip and there are cozy lights shining in the woods ahead, the flames from the kerosene lanterns lighting the darkness ahead. They are a beacon to move toward, promising shelter, warmth from the woodstove, a delicious dinner and good company. This kind of fire, the kind of fire that shines into the darkness, the kind that sends waves of warmth out from the woodstove, the kind that makes a hot dinner possible, this kind of fire may just be the sort of fire Jesus wanted kindled.
Or, perhaps, Jesus was thinking more of the sort of fire in a blacksmith’s forge, fire that purifies us, knocking off clinkers and making us stronger while at the same time rendering us malleable and able to change without breaking. Maybe Jesus was thinking of his followers burning with a passion for justice. Maybe Jesus was thinking of bonfires, the sort that make Halloween in my hometown so festive. When I was growing up, I would always take breaks from trick or treating to warm up at the Gaunt Park bonfire, enjoying a hot dog, some cider, a stickful of toasted marshmallows with friends before heading back out on the candy trail. That fire was a place for the community to gather, a place that helped us to be community. No wonder Jesus wished the fire was already kindled. With all of our fears, all of our doubt, all of our worries, all of our divisions, we desperately need a cozy fire to warm us, to feed us, to purify us, to help us change without breaking, to ignite a passion for justice, to hold us together in community. Church, lived out rightly, can be that fire. Christ guards it and keeps it ablaze for us.
I wished I had some clear words of comfort for my friend. I wished I had wisdom. All I could offer was a willing ear, some book titles and the advice to start a gratitude journal. She thanked me for the chat & said it helped just to feel heard. Just to feel heard. Shouldn’t everyone get to feel heard on a regular basis? But this is life among the divided. Sure, some of us have stronger support systems than my friend does right now. I know, though, how isolated I have felt at times and I expect there isn’t one person here who hasn’t felt alone at one time or another.
I’ll be honest with you. When I first read the texts for this week (and even well into the week), I thought, “What? Did Brian decide he didn’t want to do these and urge his parents to choose this weekend for their anniversary celebration?” The texts this week are hard ones, ones we don’t really want to hear. You can’t imagine how tempted I was just to celebrate the Assumption of Mary, this week’s alternate texts, and avoid all of this talk of God making the vineyard that bore wild grapes a waste, these stories of the faithful being tortured and cut in half, this idea that Jesus came to bring fire and division to the earth rather than peace. I was so averse to dealing with these difficult texts, in fact, that I knew I must wrestle with them. That’s one of my operating theories. If I am finding myself avoiding something, perhaps it’s exactly what I need to do. So, I dove into the texts.
I started asking questions. Why would Jesus come to divide us when what God desires is a world where all may be one, where love is the most important commandment & people treat it as such? That makes no sense. Then I started to think about it the way I think about the crucifixion. God didn’t require that Jesus be crucified. It was the inevitable response of our flawed nature to his radical message of love. We got so scared by that message that we had to kill the messenger. And we’re still scared. The idea of love runs so counter to our brokenness that we are unable to approach it with any kind of openness. We are much more comfortable arguing for division than taking the risk of radically opening up to others. I have a dear friend who feels completely isolated from her family. The other day, she mused to me that her separation from her family is largely due to her feeling like she had to put up a protective wall. People in our country are in hot debate over differences, not realizing that the debate and arguing and emphasis on our differences is blocking the opportunity for the kind of love and peace God wants us to have. We argue over immigration, over same-sex marriage, over the construction of mosques. Why do we argue? Because we’re afraid. We’re afraid of difference. We’re afraid of scarcity. We’re afraid of change. It is so now, it was so when Jesus walked the earth.
At the point when he told his disciples that he came to bring division, he was about halfway through his ministry. He’d had a chance to observe how people were reacting to his message. Yes, there was great joy on the part of some of the people, joy in his healing, in his message of love, in his presence. But others were frightened of the upheaval he brought. For with Jesus’ radical message of love comes the necessity to talk about distressing things, things we’d rather just avoid, things like oppression and justice, social change and personal change. I’m sure all of you know of churches that seem calm and peaceful but have unaddressed conflict roiling under the surface. Everyone seems to get along because they are polite to one another and smile nicely on Sundays as they greet one another. Really, though, there is nothing underneath, no bonds of love and support.
The notion that everything is better, easier, if we just don’t talk about problems is threaded all through human society. The Pax Romana, that famous period of peace at the height of the power of the Roman Empire, did not bring peace in any true sense. The so-called peace was maintained with an iron glove and there was no justice in that peace. It’s just that no one dared to rise against the oppression. Without justice, widespread justice, peace is a lie. The churches that didn’t want to deal with the issue of slavery because they didn’t want to split, because they wanted to maintain peace within the denomination, were not gaining peace. They were only gaining avoidance. Better to get the problems out in the fresh air and handle them, better to go through the pain and struggle and gain resolution than to keep everything tucked away and hope it doesn’t pop up.
The same is true in marriages. You hear about couples who haven’t fought for years, only to have it come out that they also haven’t shared good times or dealt with the problems. The same is true in our personal lives. I believe that we are divided against ourselves a good lot of the time. We know what the right thing to do is, for ourselves, for those we love, for the world. And we know that we are scared to open that can of worms, whatever brand our particular can of worms might be. It’s easier just not to deal with it, to pretend our inner conflict doesn’t exist. So we compartmentalize, we live among the divided. Jesus came so that we wouldn’t have to be divided, came to bring a message of love and true peace. Our fear brings the division. Jesus’ defiance of traditional societal ways of bringing meaning and cohesion to life was bound to bring conflict and division. To so radically challenge something so core as family, to demand allegiance to his own message of radical inclusion and extravagant welcome above family and all other societal laws was certainly going to be divisive. It still is, simply because of who we are. Peace at all costs is not Jesus’ peace. Maintaining the oppressive, unjust status quo in order to maintain peace is not the peace of Christ. Neville Chamberlain spoke in 1938 about “Peace for Our Time,” after the Munich agreement that allowed Hitler to occupy the Sudetenland in Czechoslovakia. It may have seemed like an agreement for peace, but it certainly wasn’t peace for the Jewish people in the Sudetenland, who lost their rights, and it ultimately wasn’t peace for Britain, either. When we read the weather rightly, read what is really going on and are willing to confront it, even at the cost of disturbing the peace, that is the kind of true peace Jesus came to bring. Tom Mullen says, “My religious denomination is the Society of Friends…I learned upon joining the Quakers that they attack large social and moral problems with conscientious determination. They work for peace---and if you really want to cause conflict, work for peace.” He’s right. It brings up all those icky things we don’t want to confront. But peace can only be built if there is truth, justice, equality and respect.
Does this mean Jesus didn’t bring the fire, either? That the fire is of our making, as well? I don’t think it does. I think Jesus definitely came to bring fire to the earth. It’s just that we, with our terrified little minds that are always working to see how we might be hurt, interpret that fire differently than I believe Jesus meant it. When I first read that, I thought of destructive fire, the sort of fire that burned heretics and destroys acres of forest. But then I started thinking about fire. One of the strongest images of fire for me is connected intimately with my mom. Walking through cold & dark November woods, with increasingly weak flashlights barely making a dent in the blackness of night, enduring the rain that is inevitable the first time I bring someone new to my mom’s place comes to mind. We hike for about 20 minutes. If the new person is not used to being out in the woods, not only are they cold and wet, but they are afraid of wild beasts (or madmen) lurking in the woods. The hike is hard even when it’s dry, but it’s exhausting and dispiriting when it’s muddy. Just when we think we can’t take another minute, though, we rise up out of a dip and there are cozy lights shining in the woods ahead, the flames from the kerosene lanterns lighting the darkness ahead. They are a beacon to move toward, promising shelter, warmth from the woodstove, a delicious dinner and good company. This kind of fire, the kind of fire that shines into the darkness, the kind that sends waves of warmth out from the woodstove, the kind that makes a hot dinner possible, this kind of fire may just be the sort of fire Jesus wanted kindled.
Or, perhaps, Jesus was thinking more of the sort of fire in a blacksmith’s forge, fire that purifies us, knocking off clinkers and making us stronger while at the same time rendering us malleable and able to change without breaking. Maybe Jesus was thinking of his followers burning with a passion for justice. Maybe Jesus was thinking of bonfires, the sort that make Halloween in my hometown so festive. When I was growing up, I would always take breaks from trick or treating to warm up at the Gaunt Park bonfire, enjoying a hot dog, some cider, a stickful of toasted marshmallows with friends before heading back out on the candy trail. That fire was a place for the community to gather, a place that helped us to be community. No wonder Jesus wished the fire was already kindled. With all of our fears, all of our doubt, all of our worries, all of our divisions, we desperately need a cozy fire to warm us, to feed us, to purify us, to help us change without breaking, to ignite a passion for justice, to hold us together in community. Church, lived out rightly, can be that fire. Christ guards it and keeps it ablaze for us.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Broken Chains, Tightened Bonds: A Sermon on Acts 16: 16-34
It’s easy enough to breeze through today’s Acts scripture without thinking about the particulars too much. The slave girl with the spirit of divination, Paul, exasperated, freeing her from this spirit, the charges of disturbing the peace, the prison, the earthquake, the jailer being saved and extending hospitality to his former captives.
But think about it. Perhaps the slave girl heard through the grapevine about the work Paul and company had been doing in her land. Maybe she knew some of the slaves at Lydia’s place and had heard stories of the conversion celebration there. Or, possibly, she really did have a spirit of divination and was able supernaturally to know the truth about people. However she came by her knowledge, she was speaking the truth of Paul’s life out loud, daily. It can be dangerous to speak the truth. It was for the slave girl, who drew the attention of the disciples because she couldn’t help but proclaim the truth. When Paul ordered the spirit to come out from her, she ceased to hold value for her owners. We never hear what happened to the slave girl after this, but history tells us that when slaves lost their value, they were in danger of also losing their lives.
With Paul’s action, the slave girl’s chains were broken. She was no longer compelled to speak whatever truth came her way. Perhaps rather than killing her, the owners simply set her free of her physical bonds as well, hoping to recoup their losses through Paul’s money. Maybe her story has a happy ending, an ending in which Paul, Silas and friends find her in the streets and bring her into the celebration at the jailer’s place. If this were a Disney movie, surely that would be the case! But whatever became of her, it was surely frightening for her to be freed from the bondage to the spirit within her. If slavery was not the life she had chosen, at least it was familiar. At least she was certain of some degree of care, so that her money-making gift would not be lost. Without the bonds of divination, without physical bonds, her life was turned upside-down. Scary stuff.
Then, imagine Paul and those traveling with him being seized by the owners, stripped naked in the marketplace and beaten with rods. It brings to mind the scores of civil rights workers beaten & humiliated in the 1960s South. The three young CORE workers who were murdered in Mississippi in 1964, Michael Schwerner, James Chaney & Andrew Goodman, were in the middle of an investigation of the burning of Mt. Zion Methodist Church in the wake of voter registration rallies. The deacons of the church had been stopped while driving, made to kneel in the headlights of their cars and beaten with rifle butts, allegedly by the local sheriff, among others. Their activities on behalf of equal rights for African-Americans were disturbing the peace of the South, disturbing the peace of those who wanted to maintain the status quo. Paul & Silas, by working in the name of Christ’s peace, were charged with disturbing the peace. When people are in bonds to the status quo, their fear of having their worlds turned upside-down often turns them violent.
On top of the violence & indignity inflicted upon Paul & Silas in the marketplace, they suffered the further discomforts of prison. When we, whose images of prison are often shaped by the media, envision prison, it’s not a pretty picture. Narrow, uncomfortable beds. Toilets with no seats and no privacy. Scary cellmates intent on harming newcomers. However unpleasant prison may be today, though, it was much worse in the 1st century. Imagine heavy stone walls, seeping with damp and cold, with no windows to let the sun come in and warm your bones. The luxury of a narrow, uncomfortable bed and a toilet with no seat would be amazing to these prisoners, who likely had not even a pallet on the hard floor and had to live with their own waste. The smell alone would render it a kind of living hell. Add to that the heavy, rough forged iron bonds and wooden stocks limiting movement. I know how often I wiggle and change positions just at a Fraze concert! Imagine sitting naked on hard, cold stone without being able to move. Maybe Paul & Silas didn’t leave the prison right away because their legs wouldn’t work! Oh, and did I mention the rats? Roaches? Other creepy-crawlies? The only sounds the prisoners must have been used to hearing would be moans of pain, cries of fear & despair, clanking of chains.
Yet Paul & Silas were singing! They weren’t singing “Go Down Moses” or “Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen” either. They were singing hymns of praise to God, more like "How Great Thou Art!" Under those conditions, I think I’d be curled up in a fetal ball, trying hard to sleep so that the horrible reality of my condition would be obliterated for a little while. Sure, I’d pray, but I think a lot of my prayer might turn out as grumbling and “How could you do this to me, God?” kind of talk. I’d like to think I could maintain faith and hope in the midst of pain, foulness and cold, but I’m not so sure. I know how I can get to feeling sorry for myself just because I have to eat McDonald’s too much on a road trip.
Is it any wonder, then, that the other prisoners were listening to Paul & Silas? Perhaps at first, the prisoners just thought they were nuts! But then imagine hearing their cheer, their trust and praise for this God who was everything to them, long into the night! Imagine being in this cheerless, hopeless, godforsaken place and hearing such powerful witness. The scripture doesn’t say they were trying to convert the others. But their own faith was powerful enough witness that when the terror of the earthquake hit (and we all have recent images from Haiti, from Chile, from China of how frightening that must be), they didn’t run. When they realized their bonds were broken, their prison doors tumbled open, they didn’t run. Perhaps they wanted a little of what Paul and Silas had. Perhaps they wanted to see where this God, who inspires such faith, would lead. We don’t know what became of those other prisoners. I like the idea that they might have been drawn into the celebration, too, the baptism, the wound-cleansing, the feast in honor of the greatness of this God, who brings us earthquakes to free us from our bonds.
Have you ever messed something up? Have you ever forgotten a crucial deadline, for example, at work and just known you were going to be fired? The jailer, realizing that he had let his prisoners escape, knew life was about to get really bad for him. Maybe he would even be put to death for allowing this to happen. So, he is ready to plunge his sword into his chest when he hears Paul. Now, the prison is completely black, as black as the West Virginia woods when I have to use the privy at night while staying with my mom, who chooses to live without electricity or running water. And they didn’t have a handy flashlight to drive away the dark, something I always have by my side at my mom’s. There is no way Paul has been able to see the drawn sword, the horror on the jailer’s face as he realizes his life has been turned upside-down. But, likely out of compassion and realization of how the jailer must be reacting to this situation, Paul chooses to call out with reassurances. Rather than guiding the prisoners quickly and quietly to safety beyond the reach of the law, as Zorro would have done in my favorite Saturday morning cartoon, or saving himself and letting the chips fall where they may for everyone else, Paul’s heart goes out to the jailer. Instead of taking the attitude that his oppressor (or the man who stands in for his real oppressors) deserves what he gets, Paul figures out how to comfort and save him.
Because Paul does not simply think of himself, his group, he is rewarded richly. He chooses to praise his God, to tell the jailer of the love and compassion of Jesus, of how that love and compassion extend even to this jailer, who has harmed God’s people. His action leads the jailer to the love of God and leads his people to the comfort of the jailer’s home, the warmth of human fellowship and the recognition that we are all God’s children. Had they simply escaped, they would have lost the opportunity to witness to the jailer, but they also would have consigned themselves to life on the run, until they could move beyond the reach of Rome, which had a long arm indeed. Beaten badly, naked, hungry, they would have contended with traveling through the countryside on the lam. Because Paul trusted God’s loving kindness enough to have mercy on this jailer, his enemy, he was able not only to be free from his bonds, but to have his wounds washed, eat in comfort and rejoice with a family who had newly discovered the greatness of God. His loving response, in light of his broken chains, allowed the bonds of love and friendship to develop & tighten.
It’s a powerful story when we let our imaginations take us there. But, friends, this story isn’t just an inspiration from the past. It’s happening today, in all of our lives. We are all in chains, of one kind and another. We may be bound in chains of addiction, of materialism, of fear of the unknown. We may be bound in chains of prejudice, of apathy, of poverty. Our chains aren’t always of our own making. I was at the Lift Greater Dayton meeting the other night and heard young people talking about the chains with which the youth in Dayton are bound. They spoke of the insecurity of an unsafe neighborhood, of troubled parents, of parks in which people are drinking, doing drugs, even having sex. They spoke of their hope for a future in which there are places for the youth in the Riverview/Five Oaks area to go, secure places, lovely places. They spoke of their hope for a future in which parents have employment and access to help with addictions. They spoke of their hope for a future in which schools are safe and provide adequate education for a viable adult life.
I believe their hopes can be realized. I believe the chains of poverty, fear and addiction can be broken in their lives. I believe the chains of spiritual poverty, fear and addiction can be broken in all of our lives, by that God who unsettles us. Leaving our chains can be scary. We all fear change, particularly when our chains are broken by an earthquake. God, more often than not, disarms us with the shocking ways in which our chains can be broken. If we can learn to sit calmly in the midst of the earthquake, if we can learn to have compassion for those who are against us, we will be freed from our chains.
Jeannene and I have a favorite song we play when we’re headed off for a little getaway trip. It’s by The Indigo Girls and it’s called “The Power of Two.” It’s about how everything is easier when two come together in love than when we try to do everything on our own. One of my favorite lyrics is about bonds, both the kind that chain us, hold us back and cause pain and the kind that free us to live out God’s will in our lives. It says,
“Now the steel bars between me and a promise
Suddenly bend with ease
And the closer I'm bound in love to you
The closer I am to free”
It’s a romantic lyric in its original context, but it applies equally well to our relationship with God. When we open ourselves to the peace and compassion God offers us, when we allow ourselves to be bound in love to God and to one another, we are that much closer to free. In the coming week, I invite you to explore what truths you need to speak to disturb whatever peace in your life needs disturbing. I invite you to look for chains that you can ask God to break. I invite you to leave those broken chains behind in favor of tight bonds & join in the feast and the rejoicing that ensues!
But think about it. Perhaps the slave girl heard through the grapevine about the work Paul and company had been doing in her land. Maybe she knew some of the slaves at Lydia’s place and had heard stories of the conversion celebration there. Or, possibly, she really did have a spirit of divination and was able supernaturally to know the truth about people. However she came by her knowledge, she was speaking the truth of Paul’s life out loud, daily. It can be dangerous to speak the truth. It was for the slave girl, who drew the attention of the disciples because she couldn’t help but proclaim the truth. When Paul ordered the spirit to come out from her, she ceased to hold value for her owners. We never hear what happened to the slave girl after this, but history tells us that when slaves lost their value, they were in danger of also losing their lives.
With Paul’s action, the slave girl’s chains were broken. She was no longer compelled to speak whatever truth came her way. Perhaps rather than killing her, the owners simply set her free of her physical bonds as well, hoping to recoup their losses through Paul’s money. Maybe her story has a happy ending, an ending in which Paul, Silas and friends find her in the streets and bring her into the celebration at the jailer’s place. If this were a Disney movie, surely that would be the case! But whatever became of her, it was surely frightening for her to be freed from the bondage to the spirit within her. If slavery was not the life she had chosen, at least it was familiar. At least she was certain of some degree of care, so that her money-making gift would not be lost. Without the bonds of divination, without physical bonds, her life was turned upside-down. Scary stuff.
Then, imagine Paul and those traveling with him being seized by the owners, stripped naked in the marketplace and beaten with rods. It brings to mind the scores of civil rights workers beaten & humiliated in the 1960s South. The three young CORE workers who were murdered in Mississippi in 1964, Michael Schwerner, James Chaney & Andrew Goodman, were in the middle of an investigation of the burning of Mt. Zion Methodist Church in the wake of voter registration rallies. The deacons of the church had been stopped while driving, made to kneel in the headlights of their cars and beaten with rifle butts, allegedly by the local sheriff, among others. Their activities on behalf of equal rights for African-Americans were disturbing the peace of the South, disturbing the peace of those who wanted to maintain the status quo. Paul & Silas, by working in the name of Christ’s peace, were charged with disturbing the peace. When people are in bonds to the status quo, their fear of having their worlds turned upside-down often turns them violent.
On top of the violence & indignity inflicted upon Paul & Silas in the marketplace, they suffered the further discomforts of prison. When we, whose images of prison are often shaped by the media, envision prison, it’s not a pretty picture. Narrow, uncomfortable beds. Toilets with no seats and no privacy. Scary cellmates intent on harming newcomers. However unpleasant prison may be today, though, it was much worse in the 1st century. Imagine heavy stone walls, seeping with damp and cold, with no windows to let the sun come in and warm your bones. The luxury of a narrow, uncomfortable bed and a toilet with no seat would be amazing to these prisoners, who likely had not even a pallet on the hard floor and had to live with their own waste. The smell alone would render it a kind of living hell. Add to that the heavy, rough forged iron bonds and wooden stocks limiting movement. I know how often I wiggle and change positions just at a Fraze concert! Imagine sitting naked on hard, cold stone without being able to move. Maybe Paul & Silas didn’t leave the prison right away because their legs wouldn’t work! Oh, and did I mention the rats? Roaches? Other creepy-crawlies? The only sounds the prisoners must have been used to hearing would be moans of pain, cries of fear & despair, clanking of chains.
Yet Paul & Silas were singing! They weren’t singing “Go Down Moses” or “Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen” either. They were singing hymns of praise to God, more like "How Great Thou Art!" Under those conditions, I think I’d be curled up in a fetal ball, trying hard to sleep so that the horrible reality of my condition would be obliterated for a little while. Sure, I’d pray, but I think a lot of my prayer might turn out as grumbling and “How could you do this to me, God?” kind of talk. I’d like to think I could maintain faith and hope in the midst of pain, foulness and cold, but I’m not so sure. I know how I can get to feeling sorry for myself just because I have to eat McDonald’s too much on a road trip.
Is it any wonder, then, that the other prisoners were listening to Paul & Silas? Perhaps at first, the prisoners just thought they were nuts! But then imagine hearing their cheer, their trust and praise for this God who was everything to them, long into the night! Imagine being in this cheerless, hopeless, godforsaken place and hearing such powerful witness. The scripture doesn’t say they were trying to convert the others. But their own faith was powerful enough witness that when the terror of the earthquake hit (and we all have recent images from Haiti, from Chile, from China of how frightening that must be), they didn’t run. When they realized their bonds were broken, their prison doors tumbled open, they didn’t run. Perhaps they wanted a little of what Paul and Silas had. Perhaps they wanted to see where this God, who inspires such faith, would lead. We don’t know what became of those other prisoners. I like the idea that they might have been drawn into the celebration, too, the baptism, the wound-cleansing, the feast in honor of the greatness of this God, who brings us earthquakes to free us from our bonds.
Have you ever messed something up? Have you ever forgotten a crucial deadline, for example, at work and just known you were going to be fired? The jailer, realizing that he had let his prisoners escape, knew life was about to get really bad for him. Maybe he would even be put to death for allowing this to happen. So, he is ready to plunge his sword into his chest when he hears Paul. Now, the prison is completely black, as black as the West Virginia woods when I have to use the privy at night while staying with my mom, who chooses to live without electricity or running water. And they didn’t have a handy flashlight to drive away the dark, something I always have by my side at my mom’s. There is no way Paul has been able to see the drawn sword, the horror on the jailer’s face as he realizes his life has been turned upside-down. But, likely out of compassion and realization of how the jailer must be reacting to this situation, Paul chooses to call out with reassurances. Rather than guiding the prisoners quickly and quietly to safety beyond the reach of the law, as Zorro would have done in my favorite Saturday morning cartoon, or saving himself and letting the chips fall where they may for everyone else, Paul’s heart goes out to the jailer. Instead of taking the attitude that his oppressor (or the man who stands in for his real oppressors) deserves what he gets, Paul figures out how to comfort and save him.
Because Paul does not simply think of himself, his group, he is rewarded richly. He chooses to praise his God, to tell the jailer of the love and compassion of Jesus, of how that love and compassion extend even to this jailer, who has harmed God’s people. His action leads the jailer to the love of God and leads his people to the comfort of the jailer’s home, the warmth of human fellowship and the recognition that we are all God’s children. Had they simply escaped, they would have lost the opportunity to witness to the jailer, but they also would have consigned themselves to life on the run, until they could move beyond the reach of Rome, which had a long arm indeed. Beaten badly, naked, hungry, they would have contended with traveling through the countryside on the lam. Because Paul trusted God’s loving kindness enough to have mercy on this jailer, his enemy, he was able not only to be free from his bonds, but to have his wounds washed, eat in comfort and rejoice with a family who had newly discovered the greatness of God. His loving response, in light of his broken chains, allowed the bonds of love and friendship to develop & tighten.
It’s a powerful story when we let our imaginations take us there. But, friends, this story isn’t just an inspiration from the past. It’s happening today, in all of our lives. We are all in chains, of one kind and another. We may be bound in chains of addiction, of materialism, of fear of the unknown. We may be bound in chains of prejudice, of apathy, of poverty. Our chains aren’t always of our own making. I was at the Lift Greater Dayton meeting the other night and heard young people talking about the chains with which the youth in Dayton are bound. They spoke of the insecurity of an unsafe neighborhood, of troubled parents, of parks in which people are drinking, doing drugs, even having sex. They spoke of their hope for a future in which there are places for the youth in the Riverview/Five Oaks area to go, secure places, lovely places. They spoke of their hope for a future in which parents have employment and access to help with addictions. They spoke of their hope for a future in which schools are safe and provide adequate education for a viable adult life.
I believe their hopes can be realized. I believe the chains of poverty, fear and addiction can be broken in their lives. I believe the chains of spiritual poverty, fear and addiction can be broken in all of our lives, by that God who unsettles us. Leaving our chains can be scary. We all fear change, particularly when our chains are broken by an earthquake. God, more often than not, disarms us with the shocking ways in which our chains can be broken. If we can learn to sit calmly in the midst of the earthquake, if we can learn to have compassion for those who are against us, we will be freed from our chains.
Jeannene and I have a favorite song we play when we’re headed off for a little getaway trip. It’s by The Indigo Girls and it’s called “The Power of Two.” It’s about how everything is easier when two come together in love than when we try to do everything on our own. One of my favorite lyrics is about bonds, both the kind that chain us, hold us back and cause pain and the kind that free us to live out God’s will in our lives. It says,
“Now the steel bars between me and a promise
Suddenly bend with ease
And the closer I'm bound in love to you
The closer I am to free”
It’s a romantic lyric in its original context, but it applies equally well to our relationship with God. When we open ourselves to the peace and compassion God offers us, when we allow ourselves to be bound in love to God and to one another, we are that much closer to free. In the coming week, I invite you to explore what truths you need to speak to disturb whatever peace in your life needs disturbing. I invite you to look for chains that you can ask God to break. I invite you to leave those broken chains behind in favor of tight bonds & join in the feast and the rejoicing that ensues!
Indian Food & Disturbing the Peace
Friday last, I stopped for a tide-me-over on my way home from work, after a longer-than-anticipated hospital visit. I'd been craving egg salad and having both my senior pastor & parishioner eat egg salad sandwiches in front of me decided me. Scanning my mind for places that might have such a thing, I thought of Christopher's. They've always had wonderful sandwiches. My favorite, the sandwich I almost always get when I'm there, is the Christopher Special. They put cream cheese, avocado, bacon and sprouts on herb bread and it is truly splendid. This time, though, I did have the egg salad. It was lovely, as well, and the service was great, just the right balance of friendly & attentive and unintrusive. I was able to shop for groceries more rationally with my tummy full. As soon as I got home, I set to work making a pot of chili and a pan of cornbread in anticipation of J's arrival. I'd picked up some vegan chili for Pie at Christopher's. When they arrived at long last, J & I sat down to dinner at the dining room table, all bedecked in my auntie's cheery yellow Pottery Barn tablecloth. Pie immediately set up his X-Box upon arrival & scarcely moved from the couch all weekend.
In the morning, we lounged around the house. I sat at the kitchen table with J, reading the 7-day James Patterson novel I had out from the library while she did some work. I was able to finish--that makes 2 7-day books finished since I've been down here. I don't usually dare to check them out. Once J was finished, we took Pie out to hunt for Fruit Gushers, which are apparently all the rage among his set and difficult to find in Cleveland. He spent $20 of his own money buying boxes to distribute to his friends, then spent the rest in GameStop buying J a late Mother's Day gift of "Oblivion" and himself a game set in, I think, post-apocalyptic Russia?
After returning Pie to his own private game world, we ventured out for dinner at Ajanta India. After eating our fill of chicken tikka masala, we went to The Greene to walk it off. Little kids were playing in the fountain & we enjoyed the cuteness of one little fella waiting, teeth a-chatter, for his mom to get a towel for him. Although I'm not a big fan of Books A Million (to say the least), I was drawn, as addicts are, to the books nonetheless. I found 2 Charles DeLint books I haven't read for $6! They have now joined the ever-growing tower in my borrowed bedroom. Our favorite discovery was a beautiful store with very inexpensive and delightful jewelry. Gorgeous umbrellas hung upside-down from the ceiling and strings of glittery butterflies dangled enticingly. J got a wonderful idea looking at those butterflies. What if, she posited, we bought several strands of those, added my fairies to the mix, and created a special room. We'd have books and craft materials and toys in the room. Rather than being fully library or fully studio, it could be our Imagination Room. I enthused that it could be for emergency imagination fixes, sort of an ER for the spirit, the IR. I'm very excited about the prospect of her getting down here soon so that we can get our IR going! I also picked up some very nice clothes for work at Coldwater Creek, as well as a fabulous embroidered denim jacket for J.
Sunday morning was my first day soloing as pastor. I felt like the service went very well, although I jumped the gun on the mission moment and, for some odd reason only a very particular part of my brain would know, sticking it between the scripture & sermon. Made no sense. Luckily, I only did that at the early service. The second service was much smoother, with an excellent liturgist and someone more qualified than I to give the mission moment. I preached on Acts 16: 16-34, where Paul & Silas are jailed for disturbing the peace, then freed from bondage by an earthquake. Rather than running off, they stayed and ended up converting the jailer. I spoke of broken chains and tightened bonds, of what chains are holding us back and of how we can help others out of their chains. I'll post my sermon here. I got compliments on my service and sermon from a number of people, which is very encouraging. After the service, we allowed Pie, who had been a terribly good sport, to hang out at my aunt's and play video games while the three of us went out for noodles. Amy & I had mac & cheese with meatballs, which sounded weird but possibly good. It was. J had Indonesian-style peanut noodles and Thai-ish coconut soup, which were both tasty. She'd seen Noodles & Co (or some such name) the night before & suggested we invite Amy there for lunch & I am glad she did. I would go back. We'd already gone through the hard process of packing up J's bags before Amy got home from church, so all that was left was to load the car and say farewell. This time, it was much harder because we won't be together again until Memorial Day weekend. When we know we only have to get through the week, it seems a little easier to be parted. I am going to have to go up there soon, too. I miss my kitties horribly and there are things at the house I need. I consoled myself after J & Pie left by getting the groceries for the week, feeling no especial need for a Sunday nap.
In the morning, we lounged around the house. I sat at the kitchen table with J, reading the 7-day James Patterson novel I had out from the library while she did some work. I was able to finish--that makes 2 7-day books finished since I've been down here. I don't usually dare to check them out. Once J was finished, we took Pie out to hunt for Fruit Gushers, which are apparently all the rage among his set and difficult to find in Cleveland. He spent $20 of his own money buying boxes to distribute to his friends, then spent the rest in GameStop buying J a late Mother's Day gift of "Oblivion" and himself a game set in, I think, post-apocalyptic Russia?
After returning Pie to his own private game world, we ventured out for dinner at Ajanta India. After eating our fill of chicken tikka masala, we went to The Greene to walk it off. Little kids were playing in the fountain & we enjoyed the cuteness of one little fella waiting, teeth a-chatter, for his mom to get a towel for him. Although I'm not a big fan of Books A Million (to say the least), I was drawn, as addicts are, to the books nonetheless. I found 2 Charles DeLint books I haven't read for $6! They have now joined the ever-growing tower in my borrowed bedroom. Our favorite discovery was a beautiful store with very inexpensive and delightful jewelry. Gorgeous umbrellas hung upside-down from the ceiling and strings of glittery butterflies dangled enticingly. J got a wonderful idea looking at those butterflies. What if, she posited, we bought several strands of those, added my fairies to the mix, and created a special room. We'd have books and craft materials and toys in the room. Rather than being fully library or fully studio, it could be our Imagination Room. I enthused that it could be for emergency imagination fixes, sort of an ER for the spirit, the IR. I'm very excited about the prospect of her getting down here soon so that we can get our IR going! I also picked up some very nice clothes for work at Coldwater Creek, as well as a fabulous embroidered denim jacket for J.
Sunday morning was my first day soloing as pastor. I felt like the service went very well, although I jumped the gun on the mission moment and, for some odd reason only a very particular part of my brain would know, sticking it between the scripture & sermon. Made no sense. Luckily, I only did that at the early service. The second service was much smoother, with an excellent liturgist and someone more qualified than I to give the mission moment. I preached on Acts 16: 16-34, where Paul & Silas are jailed for disturbing the peace, then freed from bondage by an earthquake. Rather than running off, they stayed and ended up converting the jailer. I spoke of broken chains and tightened bonds, of what chains are holding us back and of how we can help others out of their chains. I'll post my sermon here. I got compliments on my service and sermon from a number of people, which is very encouraging. After the service, we allowed Pie, who had been a terribly good sport, to hang out at my aunt's and play video games while the three of us went out for noodles. Amy & I had mac & cheese with meatballs, which sounded weird but possibly good. It was. J had Indonesian-style peanut noodles and Thai-ish coconut soup, which were both tasty. She'd seen Noodles & Co (or some such name) the night before & suggested we invite Amy there for lunch & I am glad she did. I would go back. We'd already gone through the hard process of packing up J's bags before Amy got home from church, so all that was left was to load the car and say farewell. This time, it was much harder because we won't be together again until Memorial Day weekend. When we know we only have to get through the week, it seems a little easier to be parted. I am going to have to go up there soon, too. I miss my kitties horribly and there are things at the house I need. I consoled myself after J & Pie left by getting the groceries for the week, feeling no especial need for a Sunday nap.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Last Hurrah in Cleveland
Friday afternoon, a couple of Pie's friends came home from school with him. I had met the boy before, but not his girlfriend. They're both really nice kids & I enjoyed having them over. Sadly, they had to wait on the porch while Pie completed chores he'd left undone. I also caught him taking down all pics of J and me together. I told him that if he was ashamed to admit that we're a couple, he can visit with his friends elsewhere. I am not having my house de-gayed and I told him that if his friends aren't willing to accept him for who he is, lesbian mom & all, then they aren't worthy of him. First of all, it shouldn't matter who aa person loves. Second of all, it's his mom, not him. He put the pics back up & his friends came in & ended up hanging out until 10 at night, mostly with us parental types. They seemed to have no issue whatever with our orientation, although the boy & I had a somewhat awkward exchange as he untangled what Pie had told him and what he saw. I was doing laundry & he took out the trash (which Pie was supposed to do) and then chatted with me from the top of the basement steps. He said, "So, do you live with [Pie]'s mom now?" I said, "Uh, yeah. I've lived here longer than he has." He said, "Oh, that's cool. So it was just that other woman who was visiting? Did she and her son go home?" Apparently, Pie had told him that I was visiting, along with my friend Layla & her son, last time he was over. Turns out Pie was afraid his friends would drop him if they found out he has 2 moms. Maybe in his dad's community, but I think they're more open-minded around here. I explained that J & I have been together since Pie was 6 and the kids didn't run screaming from the house, so I think he's okay.
The girl especially seemed interested in talking with me, coming into the kitchen and chatting while I washed dishes, saying she needed to be around another girl. Later, Pie told me that from his observation, most parents interact very little with their kids' friends. I said, "That sounds like a hint" and left the living room, with the friends protesting. They said, "But your stepmom's fun! We want her to interact with us!" They ended up leaving him alone in the living room (where he was mostly ignoring them & texting a girl he's interested in) and coming into the kitchen again. I took them to the school for awhile to study and shortly after I picked them back up, J and Boot arrived. Boot was noticably awkward with Pie's friends, but was on his best behavior and wasn't saying all the outrageous things he usually does. J fed them and got out a cookie-decorating kit, so I sat at the kitchen table with the kids & decorated cookies. Our boys both seemed to think it was the weirdest thing ever, but our guests were completely absorbed by it & our conversation & the girl said, "I like this house! It's fun here." It was cool for me because the kids were talking to me about their views on religion and asking questions.
In the morning, I had a spa appointment. J had gotten me an Aveda gift card for Christmas & since it was my last weekend to live in Cleveland, I booked a half-day. I got to sit & drink some of their splendid tea before the massage therapist came to get me. I got my feet washed, then had a Caribbean body treatment-exfoliation, mud, shower, massage. This was followed by a facial and foot rub, then a manicure. I really liked both of the women who treated me, got into some cool discussions of religion & spirituality. As I was starting my manicure, J came in for her Caribbean body treatment (I'd gotten her a gift card for her birthday) and so after I was done, I went & hung out with the new Elizabeth Berg novel on a couch outside the bookstore. The sky started spitting at me & it got colder, so I retreated inside for a latte. J arrived just as I was sitting down & we relaxed with our coffee for a bit before going to pick up Boot from the house. Pie was spending the day with his crush, so we took Boot out for dinner at Chili's, then we all poked around the mall. I got some work clothes. I cannot find dress pants that look decent on me, so I'm glad spring is here & summer's coming...gives me more time to find pants I can stand. If only every day were jeans day! Boot was back to his usual inappropriate self in part, but he also showed great thought-full-ness. He is hoping to get a wrestling scholarship to a school that offers an intelligence major (as in FBI/CIA) and a law enforcement minor. He will go through ROTC & enter the military as an officer. I am pretty much completely against his joining the military, but have resigned myself to that probability and am now just trying to be supportive.
Yesterday was my last Sunday at my current church, although I continue as Director of Faith Formation to the end of this week and will be doing a lot of loose end tying, as well as going to lunch with my pastor tomorrow. This time next week will find me back in Dayton & working full-time as a pastor. Pretty amazing. I'm trying not to panic about getting everything ready by Friday and trying not to be anxious about whether I'll do a good job in my new position. I think the church and the position are a great fit, though, really. My official title will be Associate Pastor for Faith Formation and Family Life. I'm quite excited to meet all my parishioners and get going on this new life. I worry that it will take time for J to find a job down there, but I am trusting God and taking each step as it is shown to me. I also worry because Pie doesn't want to leave his friends. I have no doubt that he will find cool friends down there, too, but I know how he feels. I also worry about my present youth group getting to do cool things. I hope they find a fabulous new person for my position...and quickly! I hate to think of the start I've made on getting youth programming rolling again just fizzling out.
The youth class is joining the adult class this month to watch "Jesus Camp" and discuss it. It's a good movie, really makes you think. The point of the class is getting beyond us & them mentality. I hung out with that class, then went to worship and gave my last children's message there. I got hugs from kids & adults alike. It was hard not to cry, excited though I am about my new job. They've been a wonderful congregation. After coffee hour, I cleaned out my office, put my key in my box and walked out. Felt really odd.
I spent a little while relaxing with magazines & poking around online, then it was time to take Boot back home. We drove through some serious downpouring rain almost all the way to Pennsylvania, then the sky lightened just in time for us to visit the cemetery without getting soaked. We put flowers on her parents' & brothers' graves and talked about planting tulip bulbs next fall. When we left, Boot had us drive by his friend's house as well as the house he hopes to move into with another friend next December when he turns 18. It's weird to think of Boot living on his own soon, especially while he's still in high school, but I can understand why he'd rather have that responsibility than live with his father and take care of his grandma & the house. We held hands most of the way home, which was lovely. Neither of us is at all looking forward to the upcoming separation & who knows how long it will be. When we got home, I talked to my ma on the phone while J made chicken with a delicious Thai coconut & lemongrass sauce and rice stick noodles for dinner. We watched junk t.v. (the Kirstie Alley show & the Gene Simmons show, which we actually found rather sweet) and then went to bed.
The girl especially seemed interested in talking with me, coming into the kitchen and chatting while I washed dishes, saying she needed to be around another girl. Later, Pie told me that from his observation, most parents interact very little with their kids' friends. I said, "That sounds like a hint" and left the living room, with the friends protesting. They said, "But your stepmom's fun! We want her to interact with us!" They ended up leaving him alone in the living room (where he was mostly ignoring them & texting a girl he's interested in) and coming into the kitchen again. I took them to the school for awhile to study and shortly after I picked them back up, J and Boot arrived. Boot was noticably awkward with Pie's friends, but was on his best behavior and wasn't saying all the outrageous things he usually does. J fed them and got out a cookie-decorating kit, so I sat at the kitchen table with the kids & decorated cookies. Our boys both seemed to think it was the weirdest thing ever, but our guests were completely absorbed by it & our conversation & the girl said, "I like this house! It's fun here." It was cool for me because the kids were talking to me about their views on religion and asking questions.
In the morning, I had a spa appointment. J had gotten me an Aveda gift card for Christmas & since it was my last weekend to live in Cleveland, I booked a half-day. I got to sit & drink some of their splendid tea before the massage therapist came to get me. I got my feet washed, then had a Caribbean body treatment-exfoliation, mud, shower, massage. This was followed by a facial and foot rub, then a manicure. I really liked both of the women who treated me, got into some cool discussions of religion & spirituality. As I was starting my manicure, J came in for her Caribbean body treatment (I'd gotten her a gift card for her birthday) and so after I was done, I went & hung out with the new Elizabeth Berg novel on a couch outside the bookstore. The sky started spitting at me & it got colder, so I retreated inside for a latte. J arrived just as I was sitting down & we relaxed with our coffee for a bit before going to pick up Boot from the house. Pie was spending the day with his crush, so we took Boot out for dinner at Chili's, then we all poked around the mall. I got some work clothes. I cannot find dress pants that look decent on me, so I'm glad spring is here & summer's coming...gives me more time to find pants I can stand. If only every day were jeans day! Boot was back to his usual inappropriate self in part, but he also showed great thought-full-ness. He is hoping to get a wrestling scholarship to a school that offers an intelligence major (as in FBI/CIA) and a law enforcement minor. He will go through ROTC & enter the military as an officer. I am pretty much completely against his joining the military, but have resigned myself to that probability and am now just trying to be supportive.
Yesterday was my last Sunday at my current church, although I continue as Director of Faith Formation to the end of this week and will be doing a lot of loose end tying, as well as going to lunch with my pastor tomorrow. This time next week will find me back in Dayton & working full-time as a pastor. Pretty amazing. I'm trying not to panic about getting everything ready by Friday and trying not to be anxious about whether I'll do a good job in my new position. I think the church and the position are a great fit, though, really. My official title will be Associate Pastor for Faith Formation and Family Life. I'm quite excited to meet all my parishioners and get going on this new life. I worry that it will take time for J to find a job down there, but I am trusting God and taking each step as it is shown to me. I also worry because Pie doesn't want to leave his friends. I have no doubt that he will find cool friends down there, too, but I know how he feels. I also worry about my present youth group getting to do cool things. I hope they find a fabulous new person for my position...and quickly! I hate to think of the start I've made on getting youth programming rolling again just fizzling out.
The youth class is joining the adult class this month to watch "Jesus Camp" and discuss it. It's a good movie, really makes you think. The point of the class is getting beyond us & them mentality. I hung out with that class, then went to worship and gave my last children's message there. I got hugs from kids & adults alike. It was hard not to cry, excited though I am about my new job. They've been a wonderful congregation. After coffee hour, I cleaned out my office, put my key in my box and walked out. Felt really odd.
I spent a little while relaxing with magazines & poking around online, then it was time to take Boot back home. We drove through some serious downpouring rain almost all the way to Pennsylvania, then the sky lightened just in time for us to visit the cemetery without getting soaked. We put flowers on her parents' & brothers' graves and talked about planting tulip bulbs next fall. When we left, Boot had us drive by his friend's house as well as the house he hopes to move into with another friend next December when he turns 18. It's weird to think of Boot living on his own soon, especially while he's still in high school, but I can understand why he'd rather have that responsibility than live with his father and take care of his grandma & the house. We held hands most of the way home, which was lovely. Neither of us is at all looking forward to the upcoming separation & who knows how long it will be. When we got home, I talked to my ma on the phone while J made chicken with a delicious Thai coconut & lemongrass sauce and rice stick noodles for dinner. We watched junk t.v. (the Kirstie Alley show & the Gene Simmons show, which we actually found rather sweet) and then went to bed.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Snowy Saturday
Today, I was supposed to go to Miss Mollie's in Medina with my Art Gang buddies, after which there will be bead shop exploring and all kinds of fun. However, I'm not even entirely sure I can get out of my driveway. There is the road in front of the house, enticingly clear, and my car is mired in snow. Must get the boy to do some shoveling when he wakes. Jeannene managed to get out this morning, just barely, at 6 to go in to work and her tale of woe about getting out was not encouraging. I am also a little gun-shy of the roads after very nearly wiping out on 71 Thursday. I am not eager to have another experience of 360s across the road and ending up the wrong direction & practically in the median. It might not end up as well this time. So, I will miss the fun and remain content to relax with my kitties and a good book. I am positively plowing through Traveling with Pomegranates by Sue Monk Kidd and her daughter, Ann Kidd Taylor. It's about the mother-daughter relationship, the fear of aging & the angst of not knowing what to do with your life, set among their travels to holy spots in Greece & France, with some time spent at home in Charleston, as well.
It makes me think of my own relationship with my mama, and how very blessed I am to have gotten the mom I did. I have been calling her a lot lately. So very glad they have a phone now. I want to start writing letters to her more often again. We were in the bookstore last night and, while drooling over art magazines that cost way more than I feel I ought to pay for a magazine, I saw an article about collaged correspondence. It appeals tremendously. I used to make so much more time for art when I was in my 20s. I think if I ever get my studio organized, it will help me make art more often. It seems as though we will never decide whether we're going to make Jeff move upstairs or not, so things remain in limbo for now. Having a dedicated space and all my supplies easily accessible would make it effortless...no hauling things down to the dining room & then back up. I would also like to prep a journal for use later. I always write and think I will add art later, but why not pre-decorate the pages so it's a seamless process?
I have had a busy week, with my first UPCaM board meeting, Lenten study, travel to Dayton and all my usual work, as well. It's been a lot of fun, but it does feel good to have a Saturday just to be home and spend time with books and magazines. I got the new Rachael Ray issue last night, as well as the Studios that Lou is in. It's fun to see my friends featured in magazines and Lou is just so cool. Her artwork is wonderful and it gives me a good excuse to pick up the magazine and get ideas for my own art space. I should get my nose out of the computer and printed media so I can have something to eat, but I haven't yet decided what sounds good. Yesterday was an all-round bad food day after my yum bagel at Amy's, so I am hoping things will be better today. I should just have given in to my impulse to treat myself to lunch at The Winds before really hitting the road, but I was worried about snow piling up and the roads being impossible. I very much wanted to get home to see Jeannene, so I opted for a sandwich from KFC. It was not that great and the fries tasted like rubber. Not a rubbery texture, but an actual undertaste of rubber. I threw them away. Then, I tried an appetizer from Arby's, loaded potato bites. They were floppy and overly artificial-tasting. I should have just gotten potato cakes. My caramel macchiato (for staying awake on the road) and Earl Grey tea from Starbucks were fine...the Earl Grey was the most delicious thing I ingested all day. Then, we went to dinner at The Winking Lizard, where Jeannene indulged in her weekly fish meal, very tasty fried haddock, while I tried to choke down a thoroughly dry and flavorless (not to mention overly-chewy) steak and cheese sandwich. I simply couldn't do it. Usually, the food there is good, but this just wasn't. A shame. We had a marvelous time just being together, though.
Crocker Park was a glorious beauty of a snowglobe when we stopped by there to pick up Jeff and his friend from the movies. We hung out at the bookstore while their movie (his fourth trip to see Avatar since they couldn't get into their first choice---it is encouraging that movies are selling out---and he is bored of it) finished up. Jeannene had been up since 5:30 and had to get up at 6 today, so she dozed in an armchair until the kids came while I prowled the store. Neither was wearing a coat (it seems coats are as disdained now as when I was a teenager) and she had a mini-skirt on. I was cold just looking at them! I am so tired of having to bundle up before going out and Disney looms large on the horizon, saying, "Just hang in until Easter and you will be warm!" I do hope their cold winter doesn't mean that Typhoon Lagoon is too chilly for us when we go. It's funny how very excited Amy and I are getting about Disney. I never expected to love it so much. I think a large part of that is exactly what a woman I was talking to the other night said, "When you're there, there are no worries. It's like the outside world doesn't exist." It's nice to have a little mental break from reality every now and again. Amy and I are plotting how to do 2 parks in one day and are also planning to sneak in a Savannah overnight on the way home. Yippee! Seeing my cousins will be wonderful & something about Savannah just feeds my soul.
It makes me think of my own relationship with my mama, and how very blessed I am to have gotten the mom I did. I have been calling her a lot lately. So very glad they have a phone now. I want to start writing letters to her more often again. We were in the bookstore last night and, while drooling over art magazines that cost way more than I feel I ought to pay for a magazine, I saw an article about collaged correspondence. It appeals tremendously. I used to make so much more time for art when I was in my 20s. I think if I ever get my studio organized, it will help me make art more often. It seems as though we will never decide whether we're going to make Jeff move upstairs or not, so things remain in limbo for now. Having a dedicated space and all my supplies easily accessible would make it effortless...no hauling things down to the dining room & then back up. I would also like to prep a journal for use later. I always write and think I will add art later, but why not pre-decorate the pages so it's a seamless process?
I have had a busy week, with my first UPCaM board meeting, Lenten study, travel to Dayton and all my usual work, as well. It's been a lot of fun, but it does feel good to have a Saturday just to be home and spend time with books and magazines. I got the new Rachael Ray issue last night, as well as the Studios that Lou is in. It's fun to see my friends featured in magazines and Lou is just so cool. Her artwork is wonderful and it gives me a good excuse to pick up the magazine and get ideas for my own art space. I should get my nose out of the computer and printed media so I can have something to eat, but I haven't yet decided what sounds good. Yesterday was an all-round bad food day after my yum bagel at Amy's, so I am hoping things will be better today. I should just have given in to my impulse to treat myself to lunch at The Winds before really hitting the road, but I was worried about snow piling up and the roads being impossible. I very much wanted to get home to see Jeannene, so I opted for a sandwich from KFC. It was not that great and the fries tasted like rubber. Not a rubbery texture, but an actual undertaste of rubber. I threw them away. Then, I tried an appetizer from Arby's, loaded potato bites. They were floppy and overly artificial-tasting. I should have just gotten potato cakes. My caramel macchiato (for staying awake on the road) and Earl Grey tea from Starbucks were fine...the Earl Grey was the most delicious thing I ingested all day. Then, we went to dinner at The Winking Lizard, where Jeannene indulged in her weekly fish meal, very tasty fried haddock, while I tried to choke down a thoroughly dry and flavorless (not to mention overly-chewy) steak and cheese sandwich. I simply couldn't do it. Usually, the food there is good, but this just wasn't. A shame. We had a marvelous time just being together, though.
Crocker Park was a glorious beauty of a snowglobe when we stopped by there to pick up Jeff and his friend from the movies. We hung out at the bookstore while their movie (his fourth trip to see Avatar since they couldn't get into their first choice---it is encouraging that movies are selling out---and he is bored of it) finished up. Jeannene had been up since 5:30 and had to get up at 6 today, so she dozed in an armchair until the kids came while I prowled the store. Neither was wearing a coat (it seems coats are as disdained now as when I was a teenager) and she had a mini-skirt on. I was cold just looking at them! I am so tired of having to bundle up before going out and Disney looms large on the horizon, saying, "Just hang in until Easter and you will be warm!" I do hope their cold winter doesn't mean that Typhoon Lagoon is too chilly for us when we go. It's funny how very excited Amy and I are getting about Disney. I never expected to love it so much. I think a large part of that is exactly what a woman I was talking to the other night said, "When you're there, there are no worries. It's like the outside world doesn't exist." It's nice to have a little mental break from reality every now and again. Amy and I are plotting how to do 2 parks in one day and are also planning to sneak in a Savannah overnight on the way home. Yippee! Seeing my cousins will be wonderful & something about Savannah just feeds my soul.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Sunshine's the Perfect Cure
A lot of folks I know suffer horribly from the Monday blues. While many of my pastor buddies gleefully welcome Monday as their personal Sabbath time, most of my otherwise-employed friends begin to dread Monday sometime on Sunday morning. Jeannene has been known to begin the vigil Saturday night. However, I think spirits might be a little brighter this morning due to the gorgeous sunlight sparkling on the snow! My heart is singing and I almost thought I saw little glittery fairies dancing on our front walk as I waved Jeannene off to work this morning! The blue sky and bright sun are such an oddity for February in Cleveland. All of us are so used to everything being various muted shades of grey that this is a real treat. Maybe Ma Nature is celebrating the Saints win last night. Hee hee.
Today is a day of rest and reading for me. I have made some spectacular dill-artichoke potato salad and am immersing myself in "The Christian Century" until it's time to go tutor. The weekend was pretty crazy. Jeannene's dad passed away on the 31st and we traveled to his funeral in Pennsylvania with the boys. Boot had come to spend a few days with us and helped Jeannene put together a photo board. I think the time together was healing for them both. We usually only get to see him once a month, with his busy wrestling schedule, so it was nice to have a bit of an extended visit. However, the circumstances were sad. Jeannene's dad was in his 80s and has been ill for quite some time, but it's never easy to say goodbye to someone you love. Travis was a good guy and really loved his family. It was also hard coming so close on the heels of funeral after funeral. Jeannene's mom has only been gone since All Saints' Day 2008, we lost her wonderful, sweet nephew last July, her sister-in-law's sister passed in September and Jeannene's aunt Georgia in December. It's too much. The last time I saw most of the family was at Grant's funeral in July. It was good to see everyone and I'm glad we get to see them in Cincinnati in a couple of weeks for a memorial dinner, but I am planning to have a big party or something so that we can see them under happier circumstances. Maybe for my 40th in July. Such an exciting occasion certainly deserves a big party. It was fun, too, finally to get to meet Jeannene's old school friends, about whom I've heard so many stories.
After we dropped Boot off at his dad's house, we headed home with Pie, who was thrilled to be able to retire to his bedroom and lose himself in video world. He is never happy to be in social situations like that and especially not for a funeral. I could feel his relief as we walked through the door. After a little while on his own, he brought his games up so that Jeannene could see. It was fun to hear them commenting on the play & to see the armor he chose to outfit his character with. After awhile, Jeannene and I headed out to The Cheesecake Factory for a late supper. It was a fitting end to Travis' funeral. He loved to cook for everyone and he was great at it. He loved food, loved hearing about it, talking about it, preparing it, eating it. It's how he showed he cared and his daughter has inherited that trait. We started with some fried artichoke hearts, which were delicious, and then both of us chose chicken dishes. I actually ended up choosing for Jeannene because she just couldn't. So she had some kind of Italian chicken cutlet, with prosciutto wrapped around it, served on basil pasta. It was quite good. I fell back on the crispy chicken costoletta, which is reliably good, served with mashed potatoes and asparagus. There was so much that we're both eating it for lunch today.
Church was great. We were back in the youth room after spending January with the adult class during their sessions on the Bible & homosexuality. We watched "For The Bible Tells Me So" in four sections and had discussion time. It was good yesterday to have some space for the kids to talk about their impressions without the limits imposed by being in the adult class. We also got to talk about some upcoming events. I'll be teaching the next session in our spiritual practices series at the end of the month instead of this coming Sunday because they all want to be present for it, which is encouraging. I am presenting on creativity as prayer and have some collage time planned. I really need several hours for this session, so it will probably spill over into Youth time. I think we'll have a lot of fun & I hope they'll get some useful tools for their own spiritual lives. I haven't decided if I want them to work on illustrated discovery journals or altered books yet, but am leaning toward altered books. I guess we could always do ATCs. Maybe I'll just give them the option to do any of the three.
Worship was good, as well, and I got to sit with some of my favorite people during coffee hour. After we visited a bit, I hurried home so that Jeannene and I could make the library book sale. We had a grand time & came home with 3 big paper sacks of books for $6. Yippee! We hit the grocery, as well, although I stayed in the car because I was feeling ill. Once home, we just hung out together, looking at her old family pictures and snacking on boneless wings. We half-watched the Super Bowl for the first half of the game. Once we got past halftime, I really wanted to settle in and get serious about watching, so I did that while Jeannene made taco fixings. It's so nice to have lots of vegan possibilities for Pie. He has gotten sick of baked tofu, finally and I think the vegan tacos were a welcome change. I was so excited by the Saints' interception and big run for the touchdown that I was hootin' & hollerin' like crazy. Pie was a bit puzzled as to why an otherwise sensible person would be so into the game, especially since I don't normally follow football. But I have always had a soft spot for the Saints since they're from New Orleans and have such a cool name. Ha ha! I pick my teams based on where they're from & the coolness oif their names. I've liked the Saints for years. I also like Tampa Bay and the Titans, who moved to Nashville from Houston while I was living there.
Today is a day of rest and reading for me. I have made some spectacular dill-artichoke potato salad and am immersing myself in "The Christian Century" until it's time to go tutor. The weekend was pretty crazy. Jeannene's dad passed away on the 31st and we traveled to his funeral in Pennsylvania with the boys. Boot had come to spend a few days with us and helped Jeannene put together a photo board. I think the time together was healing for them both. We usually only get to see him once a month, with his busy wrestling schedule, so it was nice to have a bit of an extended visit. However, the circumstances were sad. Jeannene's dad was in his 80s and has been ill for quite some time, but it's never easy to say goodbye to someone you love. Travis was a good guy and really loved his family. It was also hard coming so close on the heels of funeral after funeral. Jeannene's mom has only been gone since All Saints' Day 2008, we lost her wonderful, sweet nephew last July, her sister-in-law's sister passed in September and Jeannene's aunt Georgia in December. It's too much. The last time I saw most of the family was at Grant's funeral in July. It was good to see everyone and I'm glad we get to see them in Cincinnati in a couple of weeks for a memorial dinner, but I am planning to have a big party or something so that we can see them under happier circumstances. Maybe for my 40th in July. Such an exciting occasion certainly deserves a big party. It was fun, too, finally to get to meet Jeannene's old school friends, about whom I've heard so many stories.
After we dropped Boot off at his dad's house, we headed home with Pie, who was thrilled to be able to retire to his bedroom and lose himself in video world. He is never happy to be in social situations like that and especially not for a funeral. I could feel his relief as we walked through the door. After a little while on his own, he brought his games up so that Jeannene could see. It was fun to hear them commenting on the play & to see the armor he chose to outfit his character with. After awhile, Jeannene and I headed out to The Cheesecake Factory for a late supper. It was a fitting end to Travis' funeral. He loved to cook for everyone and he was great at it. He loved food, loved hearing about it, talking about it, preparing it, eating it. It's how he showed he cared and his daughter has inherited that trait. We started with some fried artichoke hearts, which were delicious, and then both of us chose chicken dishes. I actually ended up choosing for Jeannene because she just couldn't. So she had some kind of Italian chicken cutlet, with prosciutto wrapped around it, served on basil pasta. It was quite good. I fell back on the crispy chicken costoletta, which is reliably good, served with mashed potatoes and asparagus. There was so much that we're both eating it for lunch today.
Church was great. We were back in the youth room after spending January with the adult class during their sessions on the Bible & homosexuality. We watched "For The Bible Tells Me So" in four sections and had discussion time. It was good yesterday to have some space for the kids to talk about their impressions without the limits imposed by being in the adult class. We also got to talk about some upcoming events. I'll be teaching the next session in our spiritual practices series at the end of the month instead of this coming Sunday because they all want to be present for it, which is encouraging. I am presenting on creativity as prayer and have some collage time planned. I really need several hours for this session, so it will probably spill over into Youth time. I think we'll have a lot of fun & I hope they'll get some useful tools for their own spiritual lives. I haven't decided if I want them to work on illustrated discovery journals or altered books yet, but am leaning toward altered books. I guess we could always do ATCs. Maybe I'll just give them the option to do any of the three.
Worship was good, as well, and I got to sit with some of my favorite people during coffee hour. After we visited a bit, I hurried home so that Jeannene and I could make the library book sale. We had a grand time & came home with 3 big paper sacks of books for $6. Yippee! We hit the grocery, as well, although I stayed in the car because I was feeling ill. Once home, we just hung out together, looking at her old family pictures and snacking on boneless wings. We half-watched the Super Bowl for the first half of the game. Once we got past halftime, I really wanted to settle in and get serious about watching, so I did that while Jeannene made taco fixings. It's so nice to have lots of vegan possibilities for Pie. He has gotten sick of baked tofu, finally and I think the vegan tacos were a welcome change. I was so excited by the Saints' interception and big run for the touchdown that I was hootin' & hollerin' like crazy. Pie was a bit puzzled as to why an otherwise sensible person would be so into the game, especially since I don't normally follow football. But I have always had a soft spot for the Saints since they're from New Orleans and have such a cool name. Ha ha! I pick my teams based on where they're from & the coolness oif their names. I've liked the Saints for years. I also like Tampa Bay and the Titans, who moved to Nashville from Houston while I was living there.
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