Light it up

 

The last couple of days have brought a bit of a weather warm up....not balmy, yet, enough to be able to be comfortably outside to decorate for the holidays.  A drive through the neighborhood last evening revealed several houses now fully lit. One particular residence evidently purchased mulitple strands of red, green, blue and purple lights and then strung them around trees, on the porch, around every available railing, up on the roof and for that needed extra touch lined them on the ground (!).  True, it was a Griswold-ian effort -- yet, it did look good and left me thankful they do not live right next door...yowzers!

Advent is the church season when we most look upward and outward; may we also in all the silent nights look inward.  A favorite line found in the Benedictine Sisters daily liturgy is "and in Your light, we see light."  It speaks of our incarnate-ed-ness, the Divine spark dwells within each of us and in our being present and showing up we bring the light.

If you have a toddler on your gift list, I suggest a flash light. Kids are as fascinated by lights as they are also intrigued by darkness. A flashlight provides the great opportunity to bring light into the darkness and watch all the cool stuff that happens --- the shadows, the reflections, the patterns. A kid with a flashlight will shine it all the time and everywhere.  Kids anticipate nightfall so they can break out their flashlight; no need to flick the lightswitch the kid is armed with their trusty flashlight and enjoy being needed to bring the light. 

I believe we each are needed to bring the light. We too should enjoy it.  When you have a flashlight and good batteries you want to be outside in the nighttime; the darker the night, the deeper the woods, the better!  Get out there!  You got a working flashlight!

When times are the darkest is when we need the brightest of lights. Shine! Light it up!

Pondering

 There is so much ritual, roles and responsibiliites to Thanksgiving.  As a child, I remember the ritual of breaking the wishbone with my father and the responsibility I had to read the "Dear Abby" prayer which my mother put beside my place setting.

As my siblings and I got older we took on different responsibilitiies for the dinner. One brother agreed to bring dinner rolls and make vegetables, another brown-nosed and made a homemade pie; me?  Mom asked me to bring the dinner mints.  She knew her daughter. 

I stand incredulous at the time and preparation and work that goes into preparing Thanksgiving dinner for a family. For the majority of her life, my mother did so every Thanksgiving; she was awake at 5 am to get the turkey ready and in the oven and was a dinner dynamo making the stuffing (really wish someone would've paid attention as to how she made it....), the vegetables, putting together the fruit cup comprised of the fruits of summer which she would freeze for just such an occasion; mashing the potatoes, stirring the homemade gravy and the years she went a little wild and served flaming peaches. Yet with precision, annually. we would sit down at table at 2:30 pm. 

When Mum finally got to catch a break and rest she smiled at the raucousness of the board games being played; every trip into the kitchen for a drink of the Women's Temperence Union cocktail: cranberry juice and ginger ale, she would ask if the person was hungry and could she get them anything. !!!???!!! Seriously.....     

Yet, I wonder if when everyone had gone home or scooted off to bed what she pondered. Another successful Thanksgiving dinner has passed; we all ate too much; we are all safe; the board games got a bit heated; we are very loud; the stories shared were familiar and also new; how many years in this house, around this table have members of the Beale line gathered? We have much for which to be thankful. The line holds strong;

LESSONS

 Mark 12:38-44

12:38 As he taught, he said, "Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces,

12:39 and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets!

12:40 They devour widows' houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation."

12:41 He sat down opposite the treasury, and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums.

12:42 A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny.

12:43 Then he called his disciples and said to them, "Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury.

12:44 For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on."

I am guilty of comparing and competing.  

Maybe it is characteristic of the yougest child....I notice and compare and then if need be it's game on.  

Both comparing and competing are disruptive to maintenance of the harmony of a community. Either one notices the wrongs of another and arrogantly proclaims, "Well, at least I didn't do that!  I'm not that bad."  Or, we notice and compete --- "I can do that and do that soooooo much better...."

I think one's insecurity is foundational to both behaviors. My seminary experience was a journey to find myself, know myself and be consistent in being myself. To my mother's horror on my first dull day of seminary classes I wore a Freeport Volleyball sweathshirt with the words "KILL" (a term for a spike) emblazoned on the front. Admittedly this was not a wise fashion decision. Clearly, I did not put in a lot of thought to my wardrobe; I wanted to be comfortable and signify where I was from. My intimidation of starting seminary (You sure you called the right one???) lead me to fall back on the familiar...my hometown, blue jeans and a sweatshirt. 

Before the start of every class, the seminary president would ask a different student to open with prayer.  It was random, one could not prepare for it...just pray when asked. There were classmates who when called  upon to pray used a deeper and louder voice than normal and intoned multi-syllabic words that would warrant major point totals in Scrabble. It were the more grounded and self-assured students whose prayers were simple, heartfelt, real. 

In the early 1990's my first appointment to a church as an Associate Pastor provided
me the opportunity to journey with a congregation through a church building campaign. We hired a consultant to offer guidance and direction. He suggested finding major donors who would be willing to purchase a sound system or several pews or the construction costs for building a new class room. When those donors and their dollars came in "recognize them, honor them!" he directed.

I am one who is much more comfortable with the "Joe and Jane Bag-of-Donuts" types of people...the blue jean wearing, shower-after-work, have a beer and a hot dog and swear freely if the occassion warrants. Pat was a faithful member of the congregation who helped out with Rally Day and the children's ministry program. Her husband was disabled and they lived on a very limited income. One Sunday following worship Pat pulled me aside and handed me an envelope. "Open it now," she said. Pat beamed as I opened the envelope. Inside was a personal check for $25. "I love this church. You all have helped me through so much. I want the church to have this to help with the new buidling."

Knowing Pat's story, I knew for her this was a lot of money.  She gave from the foundation of her love for her church.  A couple of weeks later at a meeting of the building committee the consultant asked us to name donors who had stepped up and whose stories should be recognized.  The senior pastor named a couple of families who donated significant sums of money. When those donations were shared there was the "ooohs" and "ahhhs" from the committee. I sat quietly.  I shared Pat's story. The reaction was a few smiles and head nods. "So, let's recognize a different big giver family each of the next several Sundays," said the consultant, "and I'm confident other wealthy families will step up as well. Call it, good ol' capitalism competition." 

Troubled by this, I said, "I think we should recognize and honor Pat. She'd love it! She never gets the recognition. And, her gift embodies the widow's mite, that's the spirit of giving we should be highlighting."

Pat was not recognized. I was disillusioned. I would leave that church for another appointment before the building project was completed.