WE DON'T DO THIS WELL

 

The first person I knew who died was my Gram.  I was nine years old.  It was June, warm, sunny, school was out, and summer was about to begin.  At a house that was normally crackling with energy, activity and noise, now there was a pervasive quiet.  I wore a purple dress, white tights and black shoes to the funeral home. I stayed in the back, as far away from the front as possible. My dad stayed patiently beside me. I leaned into him. After some time, dad said to me, “OK, you need to go up front now and say goodbye.”  I absolutely did not.  Eyes focused downward, I shook my head.  “Come on, you need to go now.”  I shook my head more defiantly and murmured, “no, I don’t want to.” More time went by.  Dad took my hand and started to walk.  I tried to dig my black dress shoes covered feet into the fine carpet, it didn’t stick. Being half pulled, I got to the front near the casket. Mum came beside me, I looked and saw my Gram lying there, her arms folded with her hands one on top of another, her eyes and mouth closed. 

I turned and wrapped my arms around my mother’s waist. She rubbed my back and left her hand there. I was in no hurry to go anywhere else.

 

I grew up near a cemetery.  On the way to the park, we walked through the cemetery. As a youth, a group of us would ride our bikes and go-carts on the paved roads that circled and crisscrossed the gravestones. 

 

As ordained clergy, I’ve spent significant time in the homes of grieving families, at funeral homes and at gravesides. 

 

Having been at this for a while, I would rather officiate a funeral than a wedding.

How’s that for a Valentine’s Day post……. 

 

Yet today is also Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the season of Lent. On this day, we mark our foreheads with ashes to affirm our mortality.

 

We don’t do this well.

 

We really need to do this better.

 

 

Remember....

 

The liturgy instructs us to "remember your baptism and be thankful."  Wise counsel. 

A cousin gave me the bulletin that announced my birth and stated the rose on the alter that Sunday morning many decades ago was in celebration of me!  That's a grand way to start a life!

I will never get over the total kick and rush of officiating a baptism.  When I moved from congregational setting ministry to the extension ministry designation, I would get teary every time a baptism was celebrated. I missed officiating those "place a bookmark here" moments in the lives of the child, parents, families, congregations.  I still have opportunities and every time I am asked, it's a ready 'YES!"  I've created my own liturgy to make it personal and relevant for all involved and I always use a seashell, I like the symbolism and if there is an older sibling provides an occasion to involve her/him in the sacrament by carrying up the shell and handing it to me.   Of course, parents tend to dress the baby in the frilliest, laciest, most layered outfit.  Those can be kind of slippy so I'm one who tells the parents to place the baby in my outstretched arms and I'll take it from there.

We Methodists, are big on infant baptism and sprinkling the water. We also take the newly baptized baby on a brief tour of the congregation for the congregants to "ooh and ahh" and be re-minded (dash intentional) that they have just promised to uphold and support and actively care for this little one.  I take that promise seriously and in my view that promise is a lifetime guarantee. 

Today, remember.....what you've been told about your baptism, were you a yeller or were you chill?  Who officiated?  

Remember the baptisms of all the beloved ones in your life at which you've been present. 

May your remembering be active and affirm that you are a blessed, beloved, beautiful child of God....always.  

I forgot the "F" word............

 Joe, my  Sunday School teacher, emailed to tell me I forgot the “F” word…I am very appreciative of his catch and I also chuckled…. I mean, those who know me would be shocked that I forgot the “F” word and in its various iterations. 

 

This alphabet is becoming quite the comedy of errors…mercy….

My Aunt Florence, she the librarian and lover and gifter of great books, would have each of her nieces and nephews when turning age 4 stand before her and count to one-hundred and recite the alphabet.  To do so successfully earned you $1.  

After this alphabet fiasco, I’m beginning to think I should refund the money….

 

F = FREEDOM 

I will be free of the inner critic who makes me feel and act small.  

 

 

My youngest nephew is a scholar of all things J.R.R. Tolkein.  He’s read the books and seen all the movies multiple times, he named his dogs after characters: Pippin, Finn; when he and his wife were expecting their first child, he wanted to name the kid “something that is unique.”  We were expecting the child to be named Gandalf or perhaps some Elfin name of which we could only identify in symbols.

 

Tolkein, born January 3 was a buddy of C.S. Lewis and with him formed the writing group, The Inklings.” As is true of most with the experiences of war, Tolkein was impacted by his service in World War I. 

One of the first books I received as a young reader was THE HOBBIT and I, like billions of others, was energized and enthralled by all the movies (The Lord of the Rings, The Two Towers, The Return of the King) and they maintain their magic of being ones rewatched with ease and maintained enjoyment. 

For me what draws me to Tolkein’s tales are the sense of a group of persons who should not fit nor work well together, managing to do just that and to en-COURAGE, journey beside and battle together whatever “dragons” and evil wizards encountered. This sense has always been what calls me to my work in congregations, community organizing and collective efforts to build and expand the shared common good and beloved community. Oh, and I’m also a fan of “second breakfasts.”