A Hoorah for my Heritage!

Remember in elementary school when you were given the assignment to share your heritage; to tell what you were? I recall that lesson fondly and we all did a little comparison as our classmates shared of their ethnic make-up. Of course, we all thought the kid who could claim being part Native American was beyond cool. We all wanted to be Irish because of having a holiday that was made just for us.

I am Welsh (we have, in my opinion, the very coolest flag), Irish, and German. I often refer to myself as being of Northern Isle stock and therefore not a huge fan of the hot, humid weather. I am from people who like good stories, enjoy word play, are fond of forests, and are known to raise a glass...or two.

As I watched coverage of the Queen's Diamond Jubilee celebration in London, England, I thought the 60 boat flotilla was quite cool and wished at least a few folks would have floated down the Thames in innertubes. However, what really impressed me was the great joy and national pride the Brits had for their heritage and for their Queen. What do we Americans have in comparison?

I believe the lesson from my elementary school days was to help kids learn about their heritage; to ask their parents and grandparents about their history; to tap into a little bit of family pride and learn about one's lineage.

I claim the great poet, Dylan Thomas and the recording artist, Tom Jones ("What's Up Pussycat?"). A Welsh flag is on my office desk. Where are your people from? What is your heritage?

Cheers!

There was a great Op-Ed in today's Post-Gazette (http://www.postgazette.com/stories/opinion/perspectives/saturday-diary-thank-you-strangers-i-couldnt-have-made-it-without-you-638612/) that was the writer's story of her experience running this year's Pittsburgh Marathon. She expressed that she got into running to avoid people and to be alone; yet, the most memorable aspect of her maratthon experience was the people who came out to cheer her on.

My favorite folks were the woman who came out in her bathrobe and fuzzy slippers and placed her lawn chair along the marathon route --- she did this because she said it's what Pittsburghers do to cheer on folks and that it was a "small town thing to do;" and the Gospel Choir who sang to inspire the runners; and the little kids offering cups of water.

Be you a runner, a reader, a reverend, or a recording artist, we all need someone "in our corner" and cheering us on.

We each need some representation of the parent who consistently brings and rings the cowbell to the daughter's basketball game; the kids who ask for the autograph of the high school baseball star; the parishioner who writes the note of appreciation; the person who makes the "way to go!" phone call.

Each action of support, each encouraging word, each applause, each and every cheer lift us, energize us, widen our smiles, and lighten our burdens.

Who have been the cheerleaders and encouragers in your life?

For whom have you cheered and encouraged?

Life is a journey, we each need a cheering section. Find one. Be one.

sj;

For the delight of donuts

Bite me, Mayor Bloomberg!

Before this first day of June, recognized as NATIONAL DONUT DAY, draws to a close, a brief reflection on the joy of donuts.

When I first think of donuts, I think immediately of my Aunt Ruth, who was a frequent and skilled maker of donuts. As she was known to do, Aunt Ruth would make dozens upon dozens of donuts --- the good kind that she would roll and shake in a bag of powdered sugar or a bag of cinnamon and sugar. With Aunt Ruth there was never enough food; she always cooked as if the opportunity to feed a visitig battalion loomed on the horizon.

When, Nathan, my oldest nephew, was a toddler he loved the little "Hostess" chocolate donuts. He called them "dough-huts" and because he was the first grandchild and my mother had waited a long time for a grandchild to spoil, he always got what he wanted. Having a liking for donuts benefited us all.

When my ministry setting was in the local church, I always took Fridays as my day off. I would drive to Freeport in time to take my mother to her weekly hair appointment and would stop by the local "Donut Connection" and buy a dozen donuts making sure to get some of my Mom's favorites, the french donut. We sat at the kitchen table (heart of the household) and ate donuts, drank coffee, and shared in conversation,

While in seminary, I had the opportunity to preach at a local congregation. I spiffed up, wore my black suit complete with skirt (!) and arrived early (feel free to pause at the amazement that I owned and willingly wore a skirt and I arrived early at an event). There was a local donut shop nearby and since I was early, I stopped to buy a coffee and my favorite donut --- the white cream filled with powdered sugar --- I stayed in the car to eat. To my dismay, I glanced down to find powdered sugar on my suit jacket and skirt. Trying to dust it off only made the situation worse. Know this, it is difficult to bring the Word of God to the people when you stand before them with powdered sugar on your crotch.

I hope today you found occasion to celebrate well NATIONAL DONUT DAY. As with most celebrations, we remember the occasion more for whom we shared it with.