....broken....

 

There are options in response to when something is broken --- fear, run away, anger, deny, blame someone else, hide out.  

 

As a nation, we seem to keep “taking it on the chin:” the pandemic, loss of jobs, not wanting to work, an attempted insurrection, deep divisions, the breaking down of long held institutions, an addiction to attention, drug deaths, an ever-widening gap between the very wealthy and everyone else, a frayed social safety net, a gun violence endemic and I haven’t even mentioned the abundance of “isms.” 

 

The ugliness that once was spoken in whispers is now shouted on social media and in toxic tweets.

Our political leaders choose power over principal, our faith leaders choose being popular over being prophetic, and we what we cannot or do not want to understand we seek to legislate with a pen instead of listening to person to person.

 

Our nation is broken.  Denial and finger pointing are not necessary.  We need to fix ourselves.

I asked a group of Gen Z-ers why they have such a fascination with Superheroes?  They answered, “We know none of the adults can fix it, they’re not even trying, so we soothe ourselves with the fantasy of Superheroes.”

 

In an early advocacy effort with the Methodist Federation for Social Action (MFSA) our rallying verse was from the book of Esther: “we have been called for such a time as this.”  

 

As is true with all the big issues and problems, our fractured communities, wobbly institutions and ever failing democracy, to fix these problems must be the cause of each one of us.  

We each have a lane that we journey, a lane in which we have influence. Know your lane and do your part to work together to solve the problem.  Are you in business, ponder what role and what part of healing the brokenness you can bring?  Is family and the home your expertise, how can you bring that experience and insight to weigh in?  Is the faith community your lane, how to be present and engaged in the conversations and working for the solutions?

To quote an often used line, which during theses times I really do believe, or perhaps need to believe as I am worried about how much more the nation can take ---- "we are the ones we've been waiting for."

 

 

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY

 The heart can think of no devotion

Greater than being shore to the ocean;

Holding the curve of one position.

Counting an endless repetition

~ Robert Frost

 

This past week in Bible study and in my weekly “Spiritual Literacy Small Group” I had occasion to reflect on my grandmother and my mother. The phrase I used for both is they had a “deep river faith.” 

 

Many were blessed by these women, I, doubly so, because they raised me; both were constant, consistent, steady, weathering whatever season, sorrow or renewal.

 

One of my favorite images is sunlight on water, the liquid light glistening like jewels. The light shone in Gram and Mom, was reflected in their actions, they carried the light with them, bore light through the dark and scary places and taught others to do the same.   

 

The opening poem by Robert Frost was introduced to me this week during small group.  I was paused by the line “being shore to the ocean.”

Emma and Dorothy had and maintained the right perspective, a humility of service and self-awareness, knowing who they were, grounded, strong and in service to the faith they professed, blessed be, in how they lived.

 

There is a rhythm to the ocean, “an endless repetition.” Mothers have a routine of care and nurture, they set the schedules and the order of the home. My mum was  into her 80’s still cooking the holiday dinners that fed our brood, she taught Sunday School for 65 years (!!); Gram was in her 90’s still baking bread during winter and sitting on the glider in summer shelling beans. 

 

I think of both often and especially on this Mother’s Day.  After each school day when I’d come home and change into my play clothes, gram asked me, “Tell me, what did you learn in school today?” During the high school years, when awakening early was a hassle, mum would enter my room and say, “Come alive, Sally!” 

 

This day and ever onward I will trace the river’s flow within me, I will learn its rhythms, I will be constant, I will live boldly for I am Emma’s youngest granddaughter and Dorothy’s youngest child --- blessed to be a blessing.

 

....shameless.....

 

"Spring....when God tarts it up a bit...." ~ Anne Lamott

...shameless..... we are once again having a "typical" spring here in southwestern PA and the Divine is on a "tart tear" with so many blooms and buds, colors and greenings .....it is shocking and it is glorious!

As a kid, about once a quarter and more so during summer, my father would set-up the screen,  get the slide projector, invite family and conduct a slide show. It was nice to gather together, mum would have a tray of cookies (always a bonus) and some seasonally appropriate beverage and always coffee. Being a self-absorbed youngster, I wanted the photos of family, of people....yes, of me!  I endured the many slides of trees and rocks and rivers and flowers and more flowers and yes, hey, there's another photo of a flower.....

As one matures and realizes one is not the sun to everyone else's universe, appreciation grew for the photos of nature in all her glory. In the age of reflection and re-membering, I am blessed to have been raised in a home by parents who respected and celebrated the WOWs of the created world.   The month of May was when we'd make trips to the local greenhouses for mum to purchase flowers that would be planted around the house, hung on the porch hooks and placed in the good sun places and windows inside the home. Always the nurturer, mum tended these plants and flowers year round, maintaining nature's beauty as a daily practice. 

Meanwhile, dad was outside prepping the ground for the garden and going to "Westermans" to buy plants and seeds in readiness for planting. My father's gardens were precise, perfectly placed and balanced; they were a geometric dream of lines and produce. 

An important spiritual practice is to notice, to do so one needs to slow down and set the intention to sense the beauty of spring ---- the sights, the smells, the touches, the sounds, the tastes. 

What a gift is this season of renewal and possibilities ---- make the most of it, point out the gifts to another and be WOWed together!  Get a notebook and every day write down your WOWs and the Beauty you evidenced.  

BARE FEET, BUTTERFLIES and BEING ALIVE!

 The plan worked!  

A member of the Children's Ministry team had the idea to purchase cocoons, tend them, and if the timing was correct, to have hatched and set-to-soar bundles of butterflies on Easter Sunday!

It did. We did and the kids already jacked-up on jelly beans and chocolate were cranked!

Easter that year was warm with bright sunshine and the kids came preening and prancing in their holiday pastels.  I had begun the Children's Sermon talking about having "Easter Feet" and that the disciples were so excited about finding the empty tomb and a Risen Jesus that they "ran out of their shoes" going to and telling everyone about this greatest of good news!  We too need to have "Easter Feet" and I removed my shoes and socks and went barefoot.  As I expected and hoped so did many of the kids. 

To this barefoot bunch jiggly with excitement, a couple members of the Children's Ministry team brought forth the boxes now filled with butterflies waiting to be released. "Should we go outside and set these butterflies loose as a symbol of Easter?" asked the 70 year-old ministry team member.  "YES!" shouted the children in reply. 

The sanctuary of this particular church had long, pointed at the top, plain, vertical windows placed along both sides of the sanctuary that provided a perfect view from the pews of the lawn outside. The packed congregation went to the windows to watch the butterfly release.  It was a grand moment!  One of those rare times in congregational life when the plan just works.

Much like the butterflies now set free, the barefoot gaggle of children also had no desire to be confined and brought back into the church building.  They ran and shouted, shirts quickly became un-tucked, clip-on ties were discarded, hair ribbons came undone, some wrestled and rolled all in joyful jubilation!  To me, watching from the inside and attempting to move ahead with the service, it was a near perfect picture of the celebration of the Resurrection.  

The couple of members of the Children's Ministry Team could not corrale the children. There was ZERO chance now free and outside and on major sugar highs running in the sunshine and broad expanse of lawn that they were going to go back inside.  It was obvious that the Children's Ministry team members were not capable of catching the children and that they wanted to yell and threaten in a Jesus-y way of course to get the kids back inside. One would watch and witness several little blond heads bobbing up by the windows and then see a "blue hair" or a "gray head" stomp by with clenched jaw and clutched hands.  We watched and chuckled and then some of the parents went outside to assist in bringing in the children and there was much rejoicing.

What better way to celebrate Easter than to cut loose and run free!  To run and dance and wheel and turn and gather together and enjoy being alive!

As is true like 100% of the time, for lessons of how to be a disciple, look to the children --- freedom and abandon and squeals of joy be yours this Easter Sunday!

 

Are you a fan of parades?  

I remember attending a few as a kid and sitting on the curb on Fifth Street in my hometown of Freeport.  The two that standout are the annual Halloween and Christmas parades both made all the more wonderful because of the tossing free candy to the crowd; I recall a parade celebrating the bicentennial and the very local parade recognizing Freeport's Sesquicentennial. Alas, little Freeport warranted an appearance from little-used nor liked Steelers mascot, "Steely McBeam."

Parades hit on all five senses and excel at the sights and sounds, the marching band, the shined and polished convertibles carrying the local dignitaries, folks pointing and in some cases happily identifying the person as she rides past.

Of course, Holy Week begins with a parade. Actually, two parades --- one with which Christians are most familiar, Jesus on a donkey, the crowds with palm branches, shouts of "Hosanna!' and a distinct change in address referencing Jesus as the Sovereign who comes in the name of God.  Uh-Oh --- now we've gone and done it...that regal reference gets the high priests on edge and puts the Romans on notice. 

The second parade is the arrival of Pontius Pilate into Jerusalem to preside and keep the Pax Romana, the Roman Peace, during these days when the city will be streaming with pilgrims who have long lived as kept subjects of the Roman Empire...

We say that of course we would be in the peaceful crowd, beside the rabble and the ready-for-a-revolution people.  Fact is we also like our power, we like the comforts of being an empire and having the military might.  We like the control.  We're not so good about being vulnerable.

As we journey yet another Holy Week, let us check our vulnerability, be open to it, risk vulnerability and learn from it. Personal confession, I'm not really good at the whole vulnerability thing and plan to ponder it and even more lean into it, or, better yet, fall into it.   Here's to a Holy Week ---

LENTEN LINE 14: THIRST

 

Thirst --- so basic, so animal, so surface, so carnal --- just meet the need, quench the thirst. 

Quenching is a need we, in our water-available-with-ease society can meet quickly and easily.  Enter a home and the first question upon settling in is “Can I get you something to drink?”

 

Jesus will thirst and the Centurion will lift upon his spear a sponge soaked in vinegar, a stark, cruel image that further informs the ugliness, the torture of the crucifixion.

 

The poet titles her book of poems, written after the death of her partner of many decades, THIRST.  

The title speaks to the loss that is an ache, her longing for what is no more, the desire for her beloved. 

 

For what do you thirst?

 

Who can quench it?  

How is it quenched?

 

Will you thirst again?

LENTEN LINE 13: Take

 

As a youth my experience of communion involved coming up front to the communion rail and seeing  pieces of broken shortbread placed in metal dishes...very safe and very contained.  

Communion and what the sacrament symbolizes is so much more than safety and containment.  Communion is sacrifice, service, love that is bold and without boundaries, grace freely given and freely received.

Spare me the already cut loaf of bread that the clergy neatly pulls apart. Me, I want the actual loaf as is so I can tear into it, I want the effort, I want the crumbs to go everywhere, I don't want it to be neat and clean.

Communion is about a gift offered.

Communion is about a response to the gift.

We TAKE communion --- we open our hands or our mouths and the bread is place into our open palms or mouths, we open to receive.

Take;

Receive;

Share

Each central actions to living the discipleship life.

LENTEN LINE 12: I anoint you......

Earlier this week I was speaking to and in conversation with a group of Duquesne University students who are members of the campus's Saint Vincent Depaul Society. These late teens and early twenty-somethings spend every Sunday evening in Downtown Pittsburgh providing food, socks, coats, clothes and materials to persons who are homeless,

I confess prior to meeting these young persons I had bought into what is accurate statistically and that is that today's younger generations have the highest numbers of claiming no religious identity nor church membership affiliation. Yet, here is this group  actively ministering to persons in poverty, individuals with mental illness, the groups whom we cross to the other side of the street to avoid or never make any eye contact.  

This group of Generation Y-ers are doing more discipleship then many lifers in the United Methodist Church so I asked them why and whey this particular service?

They answered, "it's a need we see all the time and we thought we would try to meet it in a hands-on, in-person, human to human , body to body way."

I know the focus in this season in on gearing up for the celebration of the resurrection. I'm a big fan!  I try to practice resurrection every day.  The resurrection impact is because first there was the Incarnation, the Divine enfleshed, becoming all that it is to be human and in doing so proclaiming that a body is a very good thing...all bodies a grand gift with experiences and lessons to teach all of us. 

Although I've never been a "touchy-feely+ type, I think the church needs to reflect more and minister more from an embodiment theology, to celebrate bodies and all that bodies do --- doing this would lighten us up in our dos and don'ts in regard to sexuality and identity and to our invitation, welcome and full involvement of persons with disabilities. 

I want the church to do more of a broad focus on having more all-sensory worship experiences instead of so much over-reliance on seeing and hearing.  Let's bring a little more smell and touch and taste to worship.

I want the church to do more anointing .  Anointing is so intimate and close and connected, at times forehead to forehead, as one draws close to hear the person's need and desire. The small vial of anointing oil that I carry with smells of frankincense and myrrh...just wonderful.  

In recognition and celebration of bodies, Anne Lamott writes:“My understanding of incarnation is that we are not served by getting away from the grubbiness of suffering. Sometimes we feel that we are barely pulling ourselves forward through a tight tunnel on badly scraped-up elbows. But we do come out the other side, exhausted and changed.”  Let us then be people who journey one another through human to human and body to body.

LENTEN LINE 11: IN REMEMBRANCE

 

Extravagance --- an initial reaction to the word is a "tsk-tsk, how wasteful or a most often silent inner rebuke and outward slow shake of the head.  Most times extravagance is met with strong criticism.

Is there ever a time when extravagance, to quote Martha Stewart, is a "good thing?"

All four gospel narratives tell the story of the anointing of Jesus at Bethany days before his death.  NOTE: When any story is re-told in multiple gospels....pay attention, for this one you may want to remember, this one most likely will be on the final exam.

The telling I like is the first telling, the one from Mark's gospel.  Mark, the earliest of the written four gospels was placed down on papyrus during a time of great persecution, quickly scribed because there was not time for colorful, detailed stories and profound teachings ---- just time to tell it and tell it quickly, make your point and then proceed.  Therefore, I find it interesting that Mark's telling of the anointing at Bethany includes the identity of the host, Simon the Leper, and adds an ever more important element as the indignation and criticisms rise toward the woman who burst in, broke a jar of expensive ointment and poured it on the head of Jesus, anointing him for his burial. 

Jesus, always on the side of those on the outside of things, the wrongly and easily labeled, speaks and says, "Leave her alone, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her."

Do we?

There are times when our love for Jesus and our acts of discipleship must be extravagant, done in ways that have heads shaking, gossips talking and love lessons being lived. 

I think the community of faith needs to stop always playing it safely which also sadly hints at playing it stagnantly. 

It was a Children's Sabbath Sunday. We made it a point to invite ALL the children, those we knew for they were a part of us and the ones in our urban neighborhood that we needed to know. We decorated the sanctuary with balloons, stuffed animals and baby blankets and children's "blankies" as the paraments. The sermon was a drama based on Sandy Sasso's children's book, IN GOD'S NAME, where different aspects of creation, the animals and the waters and the trees, offer names of God's identity based on their experience of God.  

As we readied and rehearsed for the service, at each practice I asked the parents and grandparents to provide snacks for the kids.  We had a lot of milk and cookies...it was glorious!  During one post-rehearsal connection over cookies and milk a couple of kids suggested we should have milk and cookies in church more often. DING!!  A GREAT IDEA!

Foundational to the church is table.  I hope that all have had the opportunity to sit at table with a child and share in milk and cookies.  

We went for it.  

Parents made chocolate-chip cookies, we bought gallons of whole milk (gave no thought for waistlines nor lactose intolerance), members of the children's ministry team poured milk into Disney characters decorated cups and carefully placed cookies on plates. 

At the appropriate time, I expressed that we were going to celebrate being at table in the way kids do best....milk and cookies. I stated this wasn't communion, no cookie would be consecrated.  This was just sharing and celebrating in the way kids enjoy. As the organist played up-beat songs from a children's level play list, adults accompanied children around the sanctuary assisting them in passing out milk and cookies. 

Who would not receive a homemade chocolate chip cookie and glass of milk from a smiling, giggling child??!!?!  In that congregation, more than I thought. Certain members were furious, they glared and stared. I am certain the District Superintendent's (my boss) phone rang frequently that week. 

Extravagance?  Perhaps not, yet, a definite action to re-mind us of the belovedness of every child; a moment that I hope each child who participated in that service still  remember for the time we "stirred it up a bit" in worship. 

A wise elder in one of the first congregations I served gave me that advice: "Honey, stir 'em up!"  I have and I plan to continue so to do.

LENTEN LINE #10: What are you looking for?

 The interviews for Summer Program Staff to work at the Annual Conference’s Camps were led by the conference camping director, the directors of the three conference camps, the conference lay leaders, the president of the conference UMW and three clergy tossed in for good measure. All representatives of WPA Annual Conference power. Along with “If your best friend was asked to describe you, what five adjectives would she/he say?” The other question I remember is “What is your favorite Bible story and why?” I was twenty-years old; I had not prepared for that question. My fellow interviewees reverted to their childhood Sunday School lessons and most of them said Noah’s Ark.  I went with the Nativity. If I was asked that question today, I would say LUKE 15 the story of losing and finding.

 

As the great storyteller, Jesus builds the narrative of lost and found raising the significance of what is lost from money to livelihood to a person. For many of us, we can relate to each example.  

 

When one can’t find their car keys or wallet, a mis-placed folder, a book ---- there is frustration.

When one faces layoff and losing a job ---- there is fear.

When on loses a person --- there is fracturing.

 

The story arc of the chapter is the movement from lost to found; the relaxation of tension when the lost item is found; the exhale of relief when being called back to work or finding a new job; the hope found and possibility present when a relationship is restored.

 

Losing and finding and celebrating is central to the Christian story.  We each have lived experiences of the roles featured in the chapter’s culminative story of the prodigal. 

·      We’ve known and expressed boldly a love that is passionate more than practical

·      We’ve judged, we’ve been part of the “pew posse” that circles and defends the space keeping out whomever we define as “those people.”

·      We’ve strayed, we’ve been arrogant living in the realm of “all about me” and spent the currency of ourselves and our self-respect and dignity on trying to find ourselves and fill the “God-shaped hole” in our lives.

·      We’ve named our failings, owned our mistakes and returned to the person or community we hurt and hoped for, needed a safe, soft place to land and be and rest and renew.

·      By the WOW and wonder of God’s grace we’ve found the grace for which we long.

 

That grace….even more than finding grace….have we offered grace, been grace to another?

LENTEN LINE 7: Why???

Clergy folks tend to get asked the WHY? Question frequently. The inquiry appears to be asked most often during times of loss, fear, suffering, war…..times just like these.

 

At my first congregational appointment, a young couple had been trying for years to have a baby. Finally, the grand news for which all were praying and waiting…. she was pregnant!  There was much celebration and anticipation. The baby was born premature, the little girl lived for a day and passed on.  Why?  

She cried the question to me…. Why…. usually followed by, “how could God let this happen?”

 

I am not one to pontificate nor to offer trite, tidy phrases found often on tea-towels. 

I listened. I offered the comfort of being present to her and her grief. The question kept being asked, why?

I answered honestly…I did not know. I didn’t then and I don’t now.

I shared what I did know and do believe --- God was present, there with her in the midst of such deep sorrow and that “God’s heart was the first to break.” (A line offered by the Reverend William Sloane Coffin on the tragic death from a car accident of his twenty-something-year old son).

 

Personally, I find comfort in a God who grieves with us, is in process with us. I don’t need an omnipotent God with all the answers.  

 

Here’s a riddle, a puzzle to discuss and wrestle and ponder:

            God is all powerful

             God is all loving

             Evil exists

 

I cannot and will not give up on my deep belief that God is all loving, steadfast in love and that God constantly shows up for us. 

 

I could be way off in my understanding, yet that is what based on experience and reflection I believe. Now, for me, I need the courage and the willingness to live as disciple to that belief.

LENTEN LINE 6: PREPARE THE WAY

 I was never a scout. All good for those who were, yet it just wasn’t my scene. The “Mental Floss” website has an article on Eleven Retired Girl Scout Badges which include the Dairy Maid badge where one learns how to clean the utensils used in milking cows and also how to churn butter. There is the Pioneer Badge which includes being able to identify and cut down trees for fuel and shelter. 

 I’ll stick to playing sports, thank you.

 

We all know the motto for scouts is “Be prepared. Plan, do the work that gets you ready for whatever is placed before you. Similarly, the season of Lent is to prepare us for deeper disciple living and being and becoming. Lent is so much more than what one gives up or denies oneself for the 40 days.  

It’s the orange cone season here in Southwestern PA.  Road crews are out and will be even more numerous in the coming weeks and months. With the recent scary bridge collapse here in Pittsburgh, I’m good with the crews and their work. I’m learning to be more calm and patient as I sit in traffic….I bring a book or a bottle of bubbles to entertain myself and fellow motorists….works for me.

A frequent sign in the orange cone season is BE PREPARED TO STOP.  The preparation helps when speeding along the highway and you spot the orange cones in the distance. 

 

We ought not to come to Easter with the attitude of having made it through the 40 days.  Early in my ministry when I was doing a lot of youth work, I didn’t know a whole lot  and joined with the youth in giving up something for Lent. I gave up chocolate and let everyone know I did. Believe me when I say that Easter was one of the best ones ever!  I was gifted with chocolate everything! It was wonderful!

 

There is no “Be Prepared to Stop” sign in the disciple living; ours is to be willing to trust and then to leap and go deep, to keep growing and strengthening in our spiritual lives.  It’s why we do this disciple living best when we do so in community with others also on the journey.

 

LENTEN LINE 5: "And the crowds followed..."

 We base so much on numbers.  Being an English major with limited math skills, I hate this.  

Yet, we all get sucked-into the importance of numbers. Salary, followers, attendance...I get it, yet, how about an intention on making the connection and the work and the experience matter and lead to effective change and deeper relationship.

While doing my daily Quiet Time, I read this line from Fr. Greg Boyle, "our community is crowded with God."  

BOOM!  There it is!  Think of the reality of being in a congregation, part of a community, building a world that is "crowded with God."  I would love to walk around and keep bumping into God.....God would be everywhere!  You could not miss seeing, feeling, experiencing God! 

LENTEN LINE 4: "The people gather"

 In the worship bulletin I wrote and pieced together, the opening line was always THE PEOPLE GATHER ---- to gather, to come together, to be in shared space, in community with each other and all the other others.  The recent gospel lesson referred to Jesus being like a “mother hen gathering her chicks.”  It’s a good image of protection, huddling close and keeping safe from predators above and below.

 

Someone has said we live in the “age of identity and the age of the refugee.”  A lot of truth is evidenced  in the movement of persons proudly claiming their identity, how one understand one’s self, the pronoun one wants used; it is powerful and it is freeing. In some areas the quest for political power at any cost has this under attack.

 

Be it our southern border, the starving multitudes in Syria, climate change forcing massive movement, and, of course, the millions of persons fleeing the horrors of war in Ukraine. The age of the refugee continues to impact in size, scope and spirit. 

 

The age of identity and the refugee demands a response.  I long for the faithful to speak out, stand up and to be granted the wisdom and courage needed for the living of these days. 

Central to crises is for the faithful to claim, live and extend a central tenet of our faith --- hospitality, that radical notion that we notice, we act, we protect, we gather.  Are we, the faithful, about much more than just words printed in a bulletin or found in hymnal or highlighted in a book?  A world has been waiting for the lived answer......

LENTEN LINE 3: "To lift up in prayer"

 "It's not the weight you carry

but how you carry it ---

books, bricks, grief ---

it's all in the way 

you embrace it, balance it, carry it

when you cannot, and would not,

put it down."

~ Mary Oliver from the poem HEAVY

Prayer time is one of those "must haves" when we gather together in worship or study or with simply the intention of being together. 

To lift anything or anyone starts with the intention to want to lift it;

We assess our need, gather others to join in the lifting;

We focus and find ways to get underneath the all of it;

Not rushed, we lift slowly and purposefully.

Now that I think more about it, "to lift up in prayer" is a near perfect metaphor for what we do when we pray for another;

LENTEN LINE 2: "Listen....."

 "Listen, now to the Word of God..." says the preacher before reading the scripture lesson.   There is a physical response, heads raise, we sit up, we stop (even if briefly) doodling on the bulletin or playing on the cellphone. 

We are attentive.

Attention.  That is the heart of all listening. One puts aside all distractions and focuses upon the person before or beside. 

When someone comes into my office and sits down across from me. The person needs to talk with me...it may be major, it my be just seeking a moment of connection and conversation. I turn off my computer screen and move my chair away from the desk....I give them my attention.  I've learned that human beings like that. 

Years ago I heard this line in a montage of film clips celebrating women in movies: "She was my mother and I knew there would never be anyone who would listen to me like my mother."  I am blessed to resonate with this line because I was blessed to have experienced this focused, attentive listening from my mum.

It's been my experience, that the ground for listening is cultivated by spending time and building trust. When I led youth group meetings and the often futile attempts at discussion, the real connections came after the meeting, after two hours of zany spent together, a teen waiting for his ride home would talk with me. My crew of self-advocates would form a line post-meeting to spend a moment or several moments talking with me. I respected them by listening. 

With all the rush of media and distractions we've developed the attention span of a hungry dog in a meat market. Forget not knowing each other, we don't even seem to notice another person.

In so many ways we have forgotten that we belong to one another. 

For the many who long to be noticed, seen, heard, invited, received and shown they indeed do matter....start with paying attention...then build to asking how they are...and listen to one's answer and respond. 

In our divided and destructive world this action may make the most impact.

LENTEN LINE 1: "You try me....."

With a sigh of exasperation and seeking calm, my mother would say, "You try me."  It was never directed at me of course.......yet it was her way, I suppose, of expressing that she was nearing the point where her proverbial last nerve was about to be gotten on.

The first Sunday of the Lenten season always begins with the tempation story of Jesus.  As we begin our individual and corporate journeys, we too are to ready ourselves for this season of introspection, to go deeply into knowing who one is...all that is good and wonderful and all those aspects that need to be improved and strengthened; to confront the barriers that keep one from wholeness and living seamlessly.

Basically, before and more than giving up something for Lent, let us go inward and seek to know ourself.  To begin this procees, I believe first and foremost and always we are each beloved, blessed and beautiful to behold...let that be the mantra one carries as we work to become the best me one can be.

In the movie BROADCAST NEWS, the character played by Holly Hunter states, "He's the devil. Look at how good looking he is, how suave and cool...he's the devil. You think the devil's going to show up with red horns and long tail?!!?  No.  He will show up looking like that which will most tempt."

Sustenance.   Security.   Power.  Protection. Do we lose our center, our grounding, our sense of beloved personhood in pursuit of or focus upon these things?  

My confession would be yes.  The next part of the introspection would be to ask and seek to answer why. 

Personally, and I think I know the reason, I struggle with the notion of trust. I love the line, "Just leap.  Either you will be given wings or you will land on solid ground." Hmmmm....are the wings mentioned angel wings because I'm going to die if I take this leap?  Why tempt it, the solid ground I'm on now is fine.....yet, I'm not becoming more me......I pause. I reflect. I ask. I answer. I become whole......

The journey continues......

Cause for pause

 We've been there --- the angst, anger, and absolute frustration with who, from our perspective, we label "the bad driver."  

Personal receivers of this moniker are the one who drives very slowly in the passing lane; all who forget the wonder of the turn signal and how to use it; and, of course, all the lovelies who use their car as a mobile telphone booth, office, make-up counter or kitchen table....and sometimes do so simultaneously.

Recently, however, I've heard from friends who have shared chilling encounters with drivers in the midst of serious road rage ---- the screming obscenities; the prolonged and very pronounced raising of the middler finger; the long and loud horn honk; and even, most chilling, the enraged driver who after tailgating you moves into the lane besdie you and glares at you while mimicking firing a gun.  

The other day in the midst of a steady rain, I got behind a car and noticed this bumper sitcker: 

NEW DRIVER: PLEASE BE PATIENT

I paused.

I had a "Driver Grinch Moment" and "felt my heart grow three sizes that day...."

As the light turned green and there was a long (way too long) pause before said driver moved, I was calm, pleasant, waited peacefully.

I reflected, what if there were other stickers, buttons, shirts,  or ball caps that one could wear to re-mind persons of with what one is currently dealing and to please be patient and understanding:

• Scared....Please Be Patient
• Worried....Please Be Patient
• Grieving....Please Be Patient
• Stressed....Please Be Patient

If one wanted to, one could even add more specifics.  Although, just the basic emotion could lead to conversation and connection...."Me too."  "Who are you grieving?" "Anything I can do?"

When I would be hyped-up and stressed and usually having those emotions released by yelling at my sister or my brothers and I would get into a tussle, my mother would say, "Kind and gentle, Sally, kind and gentle." The re-minder worked, I eased, breathed, gentled.

Personally, I need to continue to hear those words, to channel my mother's gentle being and to remember we each are dealing with something and as one of my self-advocates shared, "Be kind and patient to one another cause each of us are either beginning something, in the middle of something or coming out of something." 

Well said.  May it also be well lived.

Word Up!

I'm loud.

I could just end this post right now.  Fact shared. Truth known.

My mother would often say to me, "do you know how your voice carries?!!??"  I often was given the task to call the family in for supper --- this fit perfectly with my skill set. I'm loud enogh it's a wonder that families miles away didn't gather around our dinner table.

Several years ago, I was at  local event for women leaders who worked in various areas in the field of health justice. We were in a medium sized room on the campus of the University of Pittsburgh.   Gathered eight at a table we were sharing responses to the opening question. I don't recall the question, yet, I do remember the woman sitting on the other side of the room who made it a point to exclaim to me, "We can hear you way over here! Do you even have an inside voice?"   The comment was not made in a laughing way. The comment was made to intimidate me, to quiet me.  It worked.

Being in this gathering of women leaders in my field, her comment had its desired impact, I was embarrassed and felt small.  The chortles and chuckles of others throughout the room added to it.  I stopped speaking.  

During a refreshment break, Andrea, my agency's former board chair, made a direct line to me and said, "Don't you EVER let anyone silence you. You're loud for a reason."   

I'd like to tell you that after Andrea's affirmation I walked over to the person who labored to silence me and told her to suck it, yet, I didn't.  I pondered.  I listened as much to myself and what was brewing inside as much as to the convdersatons happening around me.

One of the greatest and needed gifts we can give to another is to listen, to notice and give one's full attnetion to another.  We each have a story.  Whose have you listened to lately?  What did you learn?

This brief treatise came from a quote I read duing my morning quiet time. The words are wise and speak to what can be, if lived....

"Each of us is a word of God spoken only once". ~ Sister Peg Dolan

Open up.....

 

"Read me Wacky Witch..." That was my refrain the majority of the bedtimes of my early childhood. Each night my mother would ask, "What book do you want me to read?"  Without a second thought, I would say, "Wacky Witch."  My mother tried...she'd say, "How about Dr. Seuss? Pippi Longstocking?"......I was having none of that...I was defiant ---- it was going to be "Wacky Witch" or nothing.  

In these times of book banning, I am confident my bedtime read would have been placed on the discard pile.  A witch??!!!  A witch with mental illness??? Hey, the witch is wearing a red hat with a yellow crecent moon, is this a Muslim witch??!!!?

What ridiculousness......

In my opinion, foundational to the banning of anything be it books, films, goods, persons.....central to these actions are arrogance and fear on the part of those who seek to ban. 

I was tuning my spiritual attennae to answering in the affirmative my call to ministry when the film THE LAST TEMPTATION OF CHRIST hit the theaters.  No surprise there was a major reaction from several faith communities --- protests, fiery sermons, marking director Martin Scocese as demonic.  At one meeting of menacing Methodists frothing over this film, I asked if anyone had seen the movie.  Pause. No one had. Someone actually shared she was afraid to see it. How can we know and then speak to what we have not bothered to see or read or learn?

Our nation is changing. Many are clutching and clinging to what is familiar and wanting to be in the "good ol' days."  Good for whom? We've progressed in our understanding, our inclusion, our diversilty. Going back is not possible nor healthy. Growing is painful, yet necessary.

When we are afraid we constrict and close in, we defend and fend off.  Conversely, to learn is to be open, to read and seek to understand a new story, to labor to understand a new perspective.

My Methodist roots were builders of the first Sunday Schools, we are big on education, study, learning.  There are a million examples, yet one of my mother's strongest attributes was that she kept learning, she studied, she taught, she read, she reflected.  

The film, CHOCOLAT, featueres a chocolatier new to a town where the leadership wants to remain guarded and closed by seeking to place limitations on what one can eat, where one can go and who is welcomed.  On Easter Sunday, the local priest, opens his sermon with these words:  

"Why do we choose to measure our goodness as to what we give up and who we exclude?

Why? When we shold measure our goodness by what we do and who we include."

Moral compass

 My ears have been tuned into the frequent use of the metaphor "one's moral compass."  This is not a new metaphor, yet, recently I took pause to ponder it.

I worked two summers as Program Staff for the WPA Annual Conference Camping Program.  Prior to the start of the summer camping season, all program staff gathered at Wesley Woods for several days of training; instruction on the structure of the campig program and how a typical week would run were fine.  However, the majority of the training focused on outdoor skill sets in efforts to make us some kind of Wesleyan Wildnerness Scouts. I was fine with this having spent much time in the woods hiking, cooking out and camping.   

Then, the bar was raised and instruction focused on specifics such as orienteering and how to use a compass.  Seriously?  We weren't taking a group of elementary age children to the back woods where we'd need to build our own shelter, find clean water to drink, forage for berries and track, hunt and kill our own food.  Besides, my assignment was Camp Jumonville the largest of the three camps and the one often referred to as "the pavement palace."  

I paid close attention to the presentation on orienteering, that a compass is a magnet directed by the eath's poles...yadda, yadda, yadda.  Of course, this instruction was not concluded by a written test. Nope. We were asked to show our orienterring skill set by using a compass. 

We each were handed a compass and a series of coordinates and in static starts were sent out. 

After ten minutes of intense focus on my compass and following the provided coordinates, I stopped to look around.  No one....absolutely not one person...was anywhere near me. I looked further and off in the distance I saw the other counselors either gathered at the camp's chapel building (made sense the coordinates would lead there) or in various stages of soon to be arrived and with the others.

Not me. I was in the far reaches at the back of the camp, on the very border where the grabage was collected and the trash was thrown out. I was in the throw away zone.

At first, I took this as a negative and I was filled with self doubt and questioned my being selected for this job. The Program Staff interview process had over 150 applicants for 15 positions. I was in the last interview group on a long day of interviews. I knew not one person seated at the table who interviewed me. I thought it went OK, yet, also figured it was one of those "who you know" deals. Yet, I was hired. I was chosen.

At the first meeting of the Program Staff Trainig, the conference Camping Director said to us, "You may think you chose this. You may think your skills and charm put you here. I want you to know God has a reason for each of you being here."

I've remembered and held those words since they were first spoken. It was during my work as a Program Staff Camp Counselor that I receved the call to ministry. 

Thinking back on that orienteering lesson, I've come to see that my "moral compass" has always been directed to those on the margins, outside of the norm.  I am called to be with those on the edge of things, the easily labeled, the ignored, the thrown out and tossed away.